• This is the 11th in the Just Between ... series.

• This story was written in November, and posted around the first of December, 1998. It occurs after the events of  Timeless and Infinite Regress in the show's fifth season. Just Between Lovers
G. L. Dartt

The captain of USS Voyager glanced up from the padd she was working on, her concentration interrupted by the soft chime to her ready room sounded. A small, compact woman with auburn hair and level blue-grey eyes, Kathryn Janeway possessed an aura of command and authority, an energy which surrounded her immediate vicinity with a vibrant vitality. She shifted in her high backed chair, turning it so that it faced the door.

"Come," she said.

The door slid back with a muted hiss, admitting the ship's astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine. Late of the Borg Collective, she was a physically imposing figure, standing six feet tall in a skintight blue-grey outfit revealing a curvaceous body. Her blonde hair, a few strands escaping to fall about the narrow, full-lipped features, was pulled back into an austere bun, and her eyes were a chilling ice-blue. The left was framed by a gray metallic eyepiece while on her right cheek, where jawline met the bottom of her ear, a starburst implant gave stark testimony to her time as a cybernetic drone.

Despite that, Janeway thought Seven was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, an appreciation tempered only lightly by the fact that she was completely in love with the young woman. She smiled and stood up, moving toward her partner with distinct pleasure. "Annika," she greeted, using Seven's real name; Annika Hansen, the human designation given her prior to her assimilation at age six.

"Captain," Seven returned coolly, and Janeway hesitated, knowing that the use of her rank, rather than her name by the young woman, meant it was ship's business which had brought Seven to her ready room.

Janeway sighed and leaned back against her desk, folding her arms across her chest. "Go ahead," she said, raising her chin.

A week or so earlier, the ship had been caught in the wake of a quantum slipstream conduit, sustaining heavy damage to its structure and many systems. Voyager's chief engineer, Lt. B'Elanna Torres, and operations officer, Lt. Harry Kim, had both been in sickbay, recovering from the toxic effects of a poison administered by the same fugitive who had stolen the runabout and utilized the slipstream drive. As a result, Seven had been forced to take over many of their tasks, working double and triple shifts, utilizing her Borg enhanced stamina and endurance to work round the clock on the repairs. Borg enhancements notwithstanding, however, Janeway could see the shadows staining the young woman's cheeks, the hint of strain around her pale eyes.

"We have managed to restore all engineering room systems," Seven reported in her cool, precise voice. "However, the replicator system will take much longer to repair." She handed Janeway a padd, and the captain frowned as she studied the readings.

"I guess this means Neelix is back to being our cook full time again," Janeway said without enthusiasm. "I'll inform him as to his duties, as well as send out instructions maintaining our rationing protocols. It's a good thing we had food supplies on hand, but I doubt they'll last long. We're going to have to look for more very quickly." She read over the rest of the report, made a few notations, then glanced up at Seven who was waiting patiently, hands linked behind her back, standing at easy attention. "What about the deflector array?"

"It only requires a few more adjustments," Seven told her. "It will be fully functional by the end of the day, at which time, we can once again activate the warp drive."

"Excellent," Janeway said approvingly. She placed the padd on her desk, and tilted her head slightly as she regarded her partner closely.

"You didn't wake me this morning when you left," she said, gentling her voice, making it less professional, and a great deal more personal.

"I was required in the engine room," Seven responded evenly, though her eyes warmed slightly. "I saw no reason to disturb you. You required sleep."

"Since I slept for fifteen hours straight, I guess I can't argue with you," Janeway told her with a half smile. "However, you need your sleep as well, Annika. I've just been informed that both B'Elanna and Harry have been released from sickbay, and are ready to resume their duties, so you can now consider yourself relieved. I want you to return to our quarters, and get some rest."

"That is not necessary," Seven protested mildly.

"That is an order," Janeway replied, injecting a touch of steel into her tone

Seven's eyebrow raised slightly. "Yes, Captain," she said, faint surprise tinging her tone.

Janeway's lips twitched, and she reached out her hand. Seven hesitated, then accepted it, allowing the captain to pull her into an embrace, where she wrapped her arms around the slender waist, her face pressed against the smooth silk of Seven's throat.

"I'm sorry if that sounded short, darling," Janeway murmured apologetically. "I just want you alert and rested when I come home."

There was a pause. "For what purpose?" Seven said. The captain smiled as she heard the hint of humor in the Borg's tone, feeling it warm her all the way through.

Though Janeway and the Borg had shared a personal relationship for almost a year, a recent explosion had robbed the captain of her memory, leaving a blank stretching back three years to a time before she had even met the young woman, let alone fallen in love with her. The captain had been forced to rely on ship's mission logs, as well as her own personal entries, to fill in the missing gaps while she and Seven tried to rebuild their previous closeness. It was a slow process, but eventually they had managed to nurture the fragile bond which formed between them into a very real, and very deep, love. As of yet, however, they had not resumed their physical intimacy, mostly due to lack of opportunity. Now that this latest crisis had passed, Janeway had every intention of solidifying their emotional connection with a physical union.

"I think you know," Janeway said quietly, leaning back to look up into the fine features.

Seven bent down, her lips brushing over the captain's. "I believe I do," she murmured before kissing her.

Janeway deepened the kiss, her lips parting, and she explored Seven's mouth hungrily, tasting the desire and devotion awaiting her. When they finally separated, Janeway laughed shakily. "This is neither the time nor place," she said huskily. "But soon. In the meantime, please get some sleep, darling."

"I will comply," the Borg promised. They kissed once more, then Seven smiled faintly at her, turned and left the ready room.

Janeway leaned back against her desk, her lips quirked in a half grin, staring at the door which had closed in her partner's wake. It was hard to be both captain and woman, to maintain a personal relationship along with a professional one but somehow she was managing, due in no little part, to the remarkable woman she had found herself involved with. She wondered what would have happened had she never made the decision to strand Voyager here in the Delta Quadrant, 75,000 light years from the Federation. It had been a long journey these past five years, with still a long way to go, but in one way, the whole experience had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. To have met Seven of Nine, to have fallen in love with her, to have the young woman return that love ... sometimes Janeway thought that fate had some plan for her, and part of that destiny was to be with Annika.

Janeway shook her head slightly, as she always did when she allowed herself to grow introspective, an occurrence which seemed to be increasing lately. It appeared to be one of the side effects of her injury, the captain forced to relearn a great many things, not only about the history she was missing, but about herself and the person she was now. Though some of her memories had returned, they were mere fragments, detached and frequently without context, and she had found that the person she was becoming was a great deal more complex than she had ever believed herself capable. More thoughtful and yet, at the same time, more emotional it seemed, as if she now carried her feelings much closer to the surface, not as willing to suppress them as she had before. It was an interesting experience, and she counted herself fortunate that she had someone like Seven to share it with.

She took a breath, and settled back behind her desk. There was still a lot of work to be done before she could log off duty.

Before she could go home.

"The time is 1600 hours," the computer said in its defined feminine tones.

Seven's eyes flew open as she woke, fully alert and functional, an effect of her Borg enhancements. She had been asleep for six hours, more than sufficient for her unique physiology to refresh and restore her equilibrium. As she sat up, she listened for a brief second, hearing nothing beyond the steady hum of the warp drive, the subtle currents of the life support system, sensing no presence in the quarters beyond the bedroom door. Kathryn had yet to return.

Slipping from between the sheets, she quickly remade the bed, stripping away the linens and replacing them with silken bedding, non-Starfleet issue and designed for a specific purpose. The thought of that purpose made Seven flush, and she had to take a second to compose herself, forcing down on the anticipation and desire which threatened to get the better of her. Moving into the ensuite, she activated the sonic shower, programming it to the highest intensity. The sonic waves tended to give the captain headaches, even at the lowest register, so Seven usually saved the full setting for when she was alone, delighting in the heavy vibration which disintegrated dirt and dust from both flesh and implant, leaving her clean and tingling slightly.

Hesitating over her wardrobe which took up only the smallest percentage of the closet she shared with the captain, she frowned, trying to choose something to wear. She possessed four biometric outfits, the traditional brown mesh, a blue-grey suit which was her personal favorite because of how its color resembled a certain Starfleet Captain's eyes, a silver biotech suit which she hated for what it represented, and a black workout outfit she used for playing Velocity. For the first time in her life, the young woman wished she had something more ... delicate, more feminine, fashionable rather than functional. She eyed the civilian clothing hanging next to the dress uniforms on Kathryn's side of the closet with a touch of envy. Though the captain did not have many dresses, the ones she kept as a permanent part of her wardrobe were both elegant and attractive. Seven knew that Kathryn would probably not object to her wearing any of those clothes, but the difference in their size and body mass made such an attempt impossible.

Abruptly, Seven's eye was caught by the stack of pyjamas sitting on the shelf at the top of the closet. They had been a gift presented her by Kathryn during their enstrangement, intended to replace the staid, iron grey Starfleet-issued nightwear she traditionally wore. Boasting a variety of colors and materials, they were the most feminine things the young woman possessed, and it occurred to her that perhaps one of those garments would be an acceptable alternative to her normal outfits fo what she hoped would be a most special occasion.

She selected a red pair made of a silk, a deep crimson shade which granted her pale skin a rosy tinge, and moved wonderfully smooth against her skin. She took a few moments to brush out her long, blonde hair, leaving it free to fall about her shoulders and spill down her back. She wondered what she should wear on her feet since most of her outfits had the footwear attached as part of the suit, while the heavy soled Velocity boots were very inappropriate for the silky outfit she now had on. She glanced at the replicator. As a result of the damage to Voyager, the crew was back to strictly rationed use of the devices, limited to small single-serving food items for which they were issued five replication access strips a day. Absolute necessities could be replicated with the proper authorization, but she did not think a new pair of footwear to complement her outfit would be considered an acceptable necessity.

She would just have to go without, she decided, and left the ensuite. She was sorry that their puppy, Jake, an Irish Setter they had received on a mission some months before, was not currently in their quarters. She would have been enjoyed spending time with him before Kathryn's arrival, but with the recent crisis which had kept both Seven and Janeway occupied almost continually, it had seemed best that he be temporarily housed with Naomi Wildman, the ship's only child. The two young creatures seemed to enjoy being together, and Seven was content to know that the pup was being well taken care of until things returned to normal, and he could once again return home.

She glanced around the outer living area with a certain amount of dismay, realizing that their quarters had acquired a distinctly dingy tinge in the wake of their neglect the past few weeks. Taking some time to tidy the place, she used a specialized cleaning device that removed the dust from the furniture, and also cleaned the floor, leaving the rug spotless. She wondered what she should do about dinner, checking to see what remained of her supply of ration strips. Unfortunately, she had used two for her breakfast drink, and she could not make even the simplest of her recipes with only three ingredients. She regarded her small kitchenette dolefully, afraid that it was something which she would not have the opportunity to use in the near future, truly regretful because she had found the preparation of food a wonderfully creative and relaxing process.

Still, she did have wine and some candles. If she used her imagination, limited as it was, perhaps even her few remaining rations would provide a meal of sorts so that she and the captain would not have to go to the messhall this evening with the rest of the crew. She set the table, then placed the candles about the room so that it was illuminated with a soft glow. She was contemplating the replicator thoughtfully when she heard the door hiss, and turned, smiling as she saw the captain enter.

"Annika, you look spectacular," Janeway said with a pleased smile, immediately coming over to the young woman to be embraced.

"I am glad you think so," Seven said, hugging her tightly. "I have no shoes, however."

Startled, Janeway glanced down, raising an amused eyebrow as she regarded Seven's bare feet. "So I see," she said. "We'll have to replicate you some."

Seven shook her head. "I do not think that would be appropriate," she reminded the captain, who smiled at her gravity. "Also, I have only three replicator rations left. It is difficult to come up with something for dinner which uses so few ingredients."

Janeway squeezed her. "I have three left myself, so surely if we pool them, we can come up with something acceptable," she assured her. "Enough for both of us. Let me think about it while I change."

"Very well," Seven said as the captain pulled away, and disappeared into the ensuite. She drew a bottle of wine from a compartment in the kitchenette, disappointed to see that there were only two bottles remaining. They would have to start rationing that as well, she thought unhappily. The couple enjoyed a glass with dinner, as well as one afterward while relaxing. Perhaps, Seven considered, I can give up my share, allowing Kathryn to have more. She used her Borg-enhanced left hand to pry out the cork, setting the bottle on the counter to 'breathe'.

It wasn't long before Janeway joined her, dressed in a simple navy sheathe, one of her older outfits, but a personal favorite of Seven's. It was a garment which could be removed with remarkable ease, the Borg remembered with anticipation, and she smiled warmly at her partner.

"You are lovely," she said softly.

"I think I remember you telling me something to that effect before," Janeway said dryly, wrapping her arm around the Borg's waist. "I never get tired of hearing it, however."

Seven noticed that the captain had added perfume to her pulse points, the delicate scent wafting into her nostrils, seming to raise her body temperature as she inhaled the provocative scent. She took a deep breath, and steadied herself, forcing her mind to concentrate on the matter at hand. "Do you have any recommendations for dinner?" she asked.

Janeway regarded her. "You still have spices on hand, don't you?" she asked.

Seven nodded. Her spices and sauces were kept separate from the rest, replicated several ounces at a time rather than a little for each meal. Several of the more common ones were stored in various compartments in her kitchenette. "I have ginger, oregano, garlic powder, onion powder, and Italian seasoning," she listed. "Also salt and pepper, two types of sugar, one container of oyster sauce, and another of steak sauce."

"All right, let's replicate two helpings of pasta, two helpings of tomato sauce, a pepper and one really large mushroom," Janeway suggested. "What can you do with that?"

Seven thought. "I can make spaghetti," she said. "Without the meatballs, or the cheese."

"We'll have to survive the lack," Janeway said dryly.

Seven hesitated. "We would not have any garlic bread either," she added.

Janeway sighed. "You're right," she grumbled. "Damn, I'd forgotten how hard this is."

"We could avoid the pepper and mushroom," Seven suggested. "That would allow us rations for a half loaf of bread, and a pat of butter to which I can add garlic powder before toasting. Again, no cheese however."

"All right, let's do it that way," Janeway agreed. She sat up on the stool at the kitchen counter, and watched as Seven assembled her ingredients. She poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle, then seemed to realize how little remained and carefully poured half of it back. "We've been spoiled," she added, frowning.

"Was it like this the first year Voyager was lost?" Seven asked, replicating the simple tomato sauce which was devoid of seasonings or spices. Those she added in careful measurements before placed the container in a heating unit to simmer.

"Oh no, that was much worse," Janeway said, sipping her wine. "We were limited to three rations a day, and Neelix had no idea about Human taste buds at all. It's a wonder I didn't have a mutiny on my hands the first month." She smiled faintly, in bittersweet remembrance. "I hope we don't have to wait four years for the replicators to be fully restored this time."

Seven shook her head. "I do not think that will happen," she said. "The upgrades which were installed after the incursion to the Alpha Quadrant are more resilient than the original specifications, nor was the damage as severe. I anticipate it taking only two months."

Janeway did not seem appreciative of this time projection. "Is ther any way to finish it earlier?" she asked.

"Not the food units," Seven reminded her. "It is too important to restore the engineering replicators first."

"Of course," Janeway said, waving her hand. She looked vaguely depressed, and Seven took a moment to reach across the table to touch her hand.

"We are alive, we are together," she said softly. "Nothing else matters."

Janeway looked at her and smiled briefly. "You're absolutely right, my love," she allowed, entwining her fingers with Seven's. "I have to remember what to be thankful for."

"There is still a great deal," Seven agreed. She brought Janeway's palm up to her lips, kissing it gently, her eyes meeting the intent gaze of her partner. She was surprised at how passionate her partner's expression was, wanton as her fingers flexed to trace over the Borg's lips, and the young woman drew back uncertainly. "I must finish preparing dinner," she said, abruptly finding it difficult to think.

Janeway didn't take her eyes off her. "Of course," she agreed, her voice low with sensuality. "We certainly don't want to waste those rations, do we?"

Seven wavered. "Anticipation can enhance an experience," she insisted weakly.

"It certainly can," Janeway allowed readily. "I've been anticipating this evening for as long as I can remember."

"I had planned for a romantic dinner," Seven offered, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. "Perhaps with dancing afterward?"

Janeway nodded gravely. "Whatever you want to do, my darling," she said quietly. "I'm completely yours tonight."

Seven hesitated, very conscious of how her body was reacting. "I think ... it would be wise off the heating unit for the time being," she allowed finally. "There is no point in preparing and eating a meal if we are too distracted by other things to appreciate the food."

Janeway smiled, a slow, smoldering, seductive smile and held out her hand. "That's what I love about you, darling," she said. "You're so practical." Janeway led Seven into the inner room by her hand, releasing her only when they were beside the bed. Picking up a device which had been left on the night stand, she used it to light the candles scattered over the shelf which ran along the wall. With a brief word, she brought down the lights so that the room was illuminated only by the tiny flames which gave everything a cozy, intimate glow. As she did, she was astonished and amused to find she was exceptionally nervous, actually trembling while she made these preparations, as if this was her first time engaging in a sexual experience, yet it wasn't even her first time with Seven.

Except of course, it was. She realized that as she turned to look up into those pale eyes which reflected love and arousal ... and a trace of fear as well.

This is our first time, Janeway thought to herself, the first since we almost lost everything, the first I will remember for the rest of my life.

She swallowed hard, and rested her hands on Seven's arms, feeling the hard ridges of an implant on the Borg's right bicep through the thin material, the warmth of flesh on the left. She realized suddenly that she didn't even know what Seven looked like without clothes, what other implants lay beneath the silk pyjamas.

There was no clear memory of any of their previous times, and the one time they had slept together in the nude ... the previous evening ... she had been far too exhausted to notice details. Seven had been gone long before the captain awoke, and she wondered if the young woman had spent any time looking at her sleeping form before she left. That thought sent chills of desire down her spine, and she felt her hands tightened convulsively on the young woman's arms.

She laughed, and forced herself to ease her grip. "I'm scared," she said softly.

Seven seemed to relax slightly at the admission. "I am, as well," she said. "I do not know why. We have made love many times."

"Not like this," Janeway pointed out quietly.

Seven regarded her with dark eyes. "No, not like this," she agreed.

They looked at each other for a long moment, then Seven gently enfolded Janeway into her arms, holding her affectionately rather than with passion. "I believe in our love, Kathryn," she told her softly in her ear. "I believe in you."

Janeway closed her eyes, hugging her gently. "Oh darling, so do I," she whispered. "I love you."

They held each other tightly, as if by unspoken agreement, not attempting anything further, just hanging on until the edge of fear had dissipated and their hearts had quieted somewhat.  Janeway felt Seven nuzzle her hair, and she took a long, deep breath, calming herself.

"Too much anticipation, I think," Janeway said ruefully.

"Perhaps," Seven agreed quietly.   She began to rub the captain's back gently, soothingly.

Janeway let herself relax into that caress, and when it finally slowed, became lingering, more sensual, she allowed herself to respond, raising her face to feel the brush of Seven's lips over her forehead, trailing down her nose, finally reaching her mouth. The kiss was tender, sweet, but when it became gently demanding, Janeway melted into it, accepting the moist warmth of Seven's mouth, surrendering to it. She could feel the play of Seven's shoulder blades beneath her palms, and she pulled the young woman closer, delighting in the warmth of the embrace, the gentleness of her partner's touch. Heat rose within her once more, never really having left, building slower, more contained yet somehow stronger. She so wanted to appreciate this moment, wanted this first time to be special, to be everything it could be, especially for Seven who had stood by her refusal to rush their intimacy even when it hurt, and even when Janeway had been irritated with her. The captain wanted to show her partner that it was good they had waited, that now was the absolute perfect time, and that the young woman had been right all along.

I could get lost in these kisses, Janeway thought suddenly, marveling at their profound emotion, the concentrated intensity which absorbed her, leaving her completely submerged in Seven's tenderness. She smiled as Seven left her mouth briefly to trace a delicate line along her jaw, nibbling her earlobe.

"You're such a marvelous kisser," she whispered.

Seven drew back to look down at her, an amused look in the narrow features. "I had a very good teacher," she said.

Janeway shook her head. "No darling, I may have got you started, but the rest is sheer natural ability," she said. She looked up at her, studying the pale eyes full of love, the generous mouth and full lips which were moist, so inviting. "You are absolutely my heart," she added. "Do you know that?"

"I do," Seven replied quietly. "I have loved only you, Kathryn. I do not believe I shall ever love another. I do not believe I am capable of it."

Touched, the captain pressed against her partner, and found herself swept up in another of those kisses, aware of Seven's hands sliding from her back up to her neck where the young woman slipped her fingers beneath the thin straps of Janeway's dress, easing them over the shoulders. Janeway felt them fall away, and aware that the only thing keeping the garment up at this point was the fact that she was pressed so tightly against Seven, she swallowed hard, and deliberately stepped back a pace. The dress slipped easily down to puddle about her feet, almost as if it were designed to be removed that way.

Perhaps it was, she thought, the blood rising in her face as she stood before Seven, garbed only in the most frilly of lace underwear, a brief triangle of cloth covering the more natural one beneath. She slipped out of her shoes, her feet hidden in the crumpled dress, then moved closer to Seven, looking deep into the eyes which were roaming over her with honest appreciation.

"Do you like what you see?" she asked quietly.

"I love what I see," Seven corrected promptly.

Janeway laughed softly, and found the top button of Seven's silk pyjama shirt. She was so glad she had given the young woman these delicate things, aware that Seven had truly appreciated them, but not nearly so much as Janeway did by the sight of her partner in them. Ironically, their very looseness gave Seven an erotic quality that her normal skintight outfits did not. Nor did it hurt that the young woman's hair was down, flowing gloriously about her face, making her appear so incredibly young and desirable.

The Borg stood quietly, eyes shining as Janeway carefully undid each button, pausing at times to kiss Seven's neck, her chin, lingering on the full mouth, resisting the immediate lure of the shadowed hints of the full breasts, and the flat plane of stomach. Finally, Janeway opened the shirt, pushing it off Seven's shoulders and arms where it dropped to the floor, revealing the full length of lovely torso in one motion.

"Exquisite," the captain murmured quietly, sliding gentle fingertips over Seven's arms, her shoulders, then down over the smooth slope of breasts to the rosy nipples which hardened as she passed. She continued her lazy exploration under and to the top of the soft swell of abdomen, over Seven's belly and hips, then up the bumpy ridge of spine before retracing the path once again; slowly, carefully, as if they had all the time in the universe, as if she had not been dreaming and fantasizing about this moment for weeks on end, as if the sensation was not threatening to immolate her with its heat this very second.

Seven shivered under that featherlight stroking, and Janeway smiled, her eyes warm as she looked into the serious face. "I need to relearn everything about you," she told the Borg quietly. "I have to discover your body all over again, particularly with what makes you feel good. You'll have to help me, darling."

"I shall," Seven promised in a low tone.

Janeway reached up and kissed her again, needing her with an incredible hunger, but determined to take her time, wanting to make it absolutely right for both of them. She found the waistband of the pyjama bottoms, slipping her fingers under them to push the silken pants down over the generous hips, letting them fall away. Six feet of beautiful blonde Borg stood before her, naked to her gaze, utterly magnificent and seeming to glow in the candlelight with a purity and perfection that the assorted implants still adorning her body could not detract from in the slightest.

Janeway caught her breath, and embraced Seven, tracing each metallic device with loving fingers, the starburst under the left collarbone, the mesh down the right leg, the twin implants set in the small of Seven's back, embedded in each dimple where the curve of her buttocks began. Janeway leaned forward and kissed the soft hollow of Seven's throat, then down the chest to the warm valley between the breasts, immersing herself in the warm fragrance, feeling the soft mounds of flesh envelope her face. She ran her hands down the smooth sides, resting them on Seven's hips, then along the legs, and felt the Borg tremble as she rested her fingertips lightly on the strong upper thighs, the muscled flesh quivering beneath her touch.

Seven swallowed hard. "I am ... having great difficulty standing," she whispered hesitantly.

"Then, perhaps you should sit down," Janeway advised, looking up with glowing eyes. She smiled and captured Seven's hands in her own, nudging her over to the bed where the young woman sat on the edge, looking up at her with complete and utter devotion.

"Or maybe it would be better for you to lie down," the captain amended gently, putting the flat of her hand against Seven's chest and pushing her down onto the bed. Seven did not resist, reclining on the mattress without protest. Janeway conscientiously dropped a pillow on the floor next to the bed, then leaned over the supine woman, smiling faintly as she braced herself with her arms on either side of Seven's torso.

She kissed the young woman, openly, hotly, letting her tongue and lips explore the sweet texture of its interior as she felt a silent moan from Seven vibrate through her. She absorbed herself in these kisses, intoxicated by their warmth and desire, and it took considerable effort before she was able to leave the wonderful mouth to move down to where the proud swell of Seven's left breast waited invitingly. She kissed the rosy tip gently, flicking it ever so lightly with her tongue before going over to repeat the caress with the other, careful not to be too aggressive or abrupt, intending only to pleasure the young woman, wanting to show her how much she adored her, how much she cared for her.

She reached down and found Seven's hands, linking them with her own in a grip that was oddly more intimate than that of her mouth, which continued to trace over the velvet soft nipples, circling the rosy areolas.  She tasted the mild flavor of the Borg's skin with a deep sort of happiness, a sense of coming back to a warm, familiar, much loved place.  She felt the tips grow firmer beneath her lips, and she moved joyously back and forth between them, teasing them carefully, so very tenderly before smiling at the young woman, aware that Seven was watching her intently.  She reached up and kissed Seven's mouth again, then moved back to the silky skin of Seven's stomach, intrigued by the faint lines she found there, the fading traces of what could only be scars.

Seven had once boasted an implant here, Janeway remembered from both her personal logs and a vague sense of memory. Hard edged ridges over abdomen and sides, up the back almost to the shoulder blades. Now it was gone, and there was only smoothly muscled flesh, firm but yielding beneath her. Janeway traced a scar briefly along its path, then continued her journey down to where the thin strands of fine blonde hair tickled her face and cheeks, the defined thatch covering burnished skin that felt so smooth beneath her lips as she pressed them against the swell. She kissed over the top of Seven's thighs, then gently nudged the long legs apart with her body, kneeling between them as the pillow cushioned her knees against the hard deck. She decided that she had planned that move rather perfectly, aware that there were some things one just shouldn't forget.

Nuzzling the tender skin of Seven's inner thighs, Janeway was amazed at how soft they were, how very silky smooth. At this point, Seven carefully disengaged her left hand from the captain's grasp, making sure the mesh covered implant was removed from any contact with her lover. Janeway remembered something the Doctor had said, about Seven sometimes losing control of it, unable to temper the raw power of the Borg mechanism as passion overwhelmed her.

Apparently, Seven was taking no chances, and judging from her increased respiration, the way the pulse fluttered in her femoral artery beneath Janeway's lips, the captain decided that the Borg was probably being wise. Smiling faintly, Janeway kissed along the inside of the long leg to the juncture where she took a moment to deeply inhale Seven's scent, aware that it was only slightly muskier than the young woman's normal fragrance which was fairly light to begin with, fresh, oddly perfumed with a faint metallic tinge.

However, she certainly did not suffer from any lack of moisture, Janeway noted, feeling the wetness beneath her mouth as she brushed against the tender outer lips of the Borg's intimate flesh. Seven was positively drenched, unquestionably ready for whatever her lover was planning. Janeway hesitated, then deliberately licked a bit of that moisture, letting it rest on her tongue as she would a fine wine, evaluating both texture and bouquet.

She heard a sound from Seven then, the first she had made since Janeway had begun, an inadvertent half sob, and the captain tightened her grasp on the young woman with her left hand, trying to communicate all her love, her affection through that connection.  She brought her right down to push the legs farther apart, opening Seven up to her gaze. The Borg was lovely, refined, like the most fragile of flowers in the flickering candlelight, a most delectable shade of pink, and with a tenderness born of both adoration and awe, Janeway carefully kissed the firm bundle of nerves at the top, then covered the sensitive nodule, sucking on it gently. She felt an immediate surge ripple through Seven, the wave of pleasure making the young woman shudder.  She heard a quiet, heartfelt moan, then, a whispered "Kathryn" which was filled with such emotion, such love, that it brought tears to the captain's eyes.

Janeway nuzzled her partner for long moments, feeling the corresponding tremors shake Seven, then she dared to move lower, circling the moist opening with the tip of her tongue, savoring the pool of wetness she found there. She discovered that Seven tasted very mild, almost without any definite quality, just a faint trace of salt-sweetness, due no doubt to the fact that Seven had few bodily functions to speak of. The implants took care of all Seven's gastronomic byproducts, the Borg nanoprobes looking after any other bacteria which would cause odor or strong taste. Janeway wondered briefly how many of the microscopic nanoprobes she had just swallowed, then realized that this was hardly the time for a scientific analysis of such things. If the Borg element was harmful to her, she certainly would have known it by now. Still, the knowledge did make her more adventurous, attempting something she wouldn't ordinarily do without more preparation, moving her mouth down even lower to the small, wrinkled orifice which she probed with the tip of her tongue.

She heard a startled "oh" from Seven, and suspected that this was something she hadn't done before though the 'why not' escaped her entirely. Again, there was no strong flavor or odor, but Seven reacted keenly to the captain's every touch, quivering every time Janeway prodded her, opening her gently with her tongue. The Borg bent her knees, drawing her thighs back against her body, opening herself up fully to the unexpected, but obviously welcomed sensation. Janeway adjusted her grip on Seven's hand, moving her arm under Seven's leg, then began a long, slow sweep from the puckered opening all the way up to the sensitive nodule and back again, stroking the tender flesh with varying degrees of firmness and gentleness, finding a rhythm that Seven's nerve endings responded to with acute pleasure. Janeway paused to push her tongue deep into Seven's wetness, sudden pulsations dragging at it, drawing her deeper inside as spasms abruptly overwhelmed the young woman. The captain felt her hand seized in a bruising grip, and she bathed her face in the soft rush of moisture that resulted, hearing the joyful cry echo in her ears.

When the shudders had eased somewhat, Janeway began again, slow and thorough, bringing in her hand into the careful caresses, stroking and penetrating gently both orifices, exploring the sensations and textures beyond her mouth's reach. She was aware that she was going where no one else ever had and perhaps ever would, profoundly moved as she lifted the young woman to ecstatic heights again and again until Seven simply could not respond any further.

Janeway eased off, and with a cocky sort of satisfaction, she crawled onto the bed, amazed to find Seven's arm across her eyes, tears leaking from beneath tightly closed lids. Gently, Janeway removed the concealing limb, kissing the inside of Seven's wrist through the mesh, along her arm, then she drew it up around her neckm and lowered her body onto Seven's, finding the wonderful full mouth and kissing her sweetly, tenderly. Lovingly.

"Darling ... you tasted so wonderful ..." she murmured between kisses. "Oh, love ... you were so perfect ... my love ... it's all right ..." Seven's tears, she noted, were saltier than any of the other fluids the young woman gave off, and the captain caught them avidly on her tongue, knowing she had overwhelmed Seven with pleasure and emotion.

She felt Seven's other arm go around her in a tight embrace, and she pressed closer, her own desire and deep need a burning conflagration within her, one she had trouble controlling now. She lost herself in Seven's kisses, found herself rolled over until the powerful weight was on top of her, pressing down on her with strong intent.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered, sliding over her wantonly. "You were amazing."

Janeway arched against her, feeling desire fill her with a need that no longer had to be denied, lips drawn back over teeth that was more snarl than smile. "Then, reward me," she demanded huskily.

Seven did not hesitate, her hands moving over her with a skill born of long practice, and Janeway noted that one of the things that hadn't changed was that the same spots which she remembered driving her wild before still did. Seven knew every one, how to touch them, when to touch them, and how long to touch them, with body and fingertips, with lips and tongue, and once with her teeth raking over tender flesh with precise delicacy. Janeway sighed and moaned and cried out, not at all passive as Seven had been, demanding her due and receiving it in spades, thinking herself the one in command only to find instead that she was the one commanded, tamed, captured and brought under control with astonishing ease, then sent out of control again with even more grace and dexterity.

When it was all over, when the last tremors had died away, when there was nothing but limp muscles and a body slick with perspiration and the couple's shared essence, she lay quiescent in Seven's arms, drained of all desire and passion, fully and completely sated, knowing she was home in a way she had never felt before, exactly where she belonged, which nothing else, not Voyager or the Alpha Quadrant or even Earth, could ever hope to match.

Seven reclined against the pillows, propped up against the head of the bed in a half seated position, Kathryn draped across her torso, her head resting on the Borg's shoulder. The captain was not sleeping but simply resting in the young woman's arms, cradled and safe. Seven nuzzled the auburn hair lovingly, kissing Kathryn's forehead as she wondered how it was possible to be this happy after what had seemed an eternity of confusion and misery.

"I have missed this," Seven said finally, in a soft voice. "I have missed you."

Janeway signed and raised her face slightly, kissing Seven on the side of her neck. "I've missed you too, my love," she responded huskily. "It seems like I've been waiting my whole life for this."

"I should have ... we should have made love sooner," Seven said, regret coloring her voice.

"No," Janeway said firmly. She drew back a little so that Seven could look into her face, reaching up to touch the young woman's cheek lightly with her fingertips. "Darling, you weren't ready before now. You were absolutely right to wait ... and I was completely wrong to try to rush you. Believe that. Good lovemaking takes trust, and until you could trust me completely, it could never be what it should be, could never be as wonderful as it was tonight."

Seven searched those eyes, seeing nothing but conviction and truth in them. "Thank you," she said finally. "Thank you for your patience."

"Thank you for loving me," Janeway replied, smiling gently.

"That is something you never need thank me for," Seven said seriously. "It is a part of me. You may as well thank me for breathing."

"Oh, I am very thankful you are breathing," Janeway said, her smile widening as she leaned forward, kissing Seven softly.

Seven enjoyed the play of lips over hers, the gentle movement of pressure and taste. She would never tired of this, she thought, never tire of being with this woman, of holding her in her arms, of feeling her body, warm and so utterly perfect against her own. She closed her eyes as they parted, and Janeway settled down once more, her head tucked soft into the warm hollow of Seven's shoulder and neck.

"Are you hungry?" the Borg asked after a long pause where they simply enjoyed a state of being together, simply enjoyed this period of existence.

Janeway laughed quietly. "For you?" she responded, playfully nibbling on Seven's collarbone.

Seven smiled. "In truth, I was thinking of dinner," she said. "I can complete its preparation."

Janeway snuggled closer. "I don't think I want to move," she murmured in a drowsy sort of voice. "I'm perfectly happy right where I am, nor do I think I want you to move either."

Seven tightened her grip. "Then I shall not," she agreed.

She wasn't tired however, feeling energized in an odd sort of way, acutely aware of the woman in her arms. She thought about how Kathryn had made love to her, how familiar it had been in some ways, yet different in others. Kathryn had done certain things to her that the captain had never attempted before, providing many new sensations, and Seven had responded to many different touches. She liked these new things, though she wondered why Janeway had waited until now to try them. Was it another facet of the different person the captain had become, one who was more conscious of Seven's body and all the various nerve endings it contained? She wanted to ask her, but was unsure how to phrase the question.

"What?" Janeway asked quietly.

Startled, Seven glanced down at her. "I did not say anything," she said, puzzled.

"I know, but you were going to," Janeway said. "Your body tensed."

Seven was impressed. "I did want to ask you about something," she admitted. "However, I am uncertain how to ask it."

"In what way?" Janeway said, reaching up to kiss Seven's jaw. "You can ask me anything, darling. Don't ever be afraid of that."

"I am not afraid of asking," Seven corrected. "I do not know how to explain it so that you will understand what I am asking."

"Just try, darling," Janeway told her, amusement coloring her tone. "If it's not clear initially, I'm sure we can eventually figure it out together."

Seven nodded briefly. "Tonight, you touched me in places you have not before," she said. "At least not often, and never with your mouth. They are places that when I touch you, you do not react favorably to it and request that I refrain."

Janeway's hand moved, slid down between the couple's bodies to where Seven was referring. "Here?" she asked, pressing against the young woman gently with her fingertips.

"Yes," Seven said, reacting a little to the touch even though it had been meant for clarification rather than as a caress. "I find that pleasurable. I like when you touch me there. I do not understand why you find it unpleasant."

Janeway smiled. "Seven, we're different people and we're going to react differently to different things," she said. "And I don't find being touched there unpleasant exactly, it's more a matter of hygiene."

Seven hesitated. "Explain," she requested.

Janeway took a breath. "Seven, because of your lack of bodily functions, you are remarkably ... pristine ... in areas that the normal human is not," she said. "Thanks to your nanoprobes, you don't have the same risk of infection that I do. I believe that before, when you attempted to touch me like this, it was probably at times of intense passion, where I didn't want to take the time to explain exactly why you had to be careful. It was probably easier for me to simply pull away, and indicate that I didn't want to be touched there. For you to touch me in this manner, you have to be extremely careful about not touching me elsewhere until you've washed your hands. The transference of bacteria from there to any other part of me can have unfortunate consequences."

Seven considered that with surprise. "How ... inefficient," she said finally. "Are all Humans like that?"

Janeway made an amused sound. "Yes," she said. "Obviously we've never talked about this, and I suppose that's my fault. Perhaps I just assumed you knew things that you didn't."

"I did not," Seven admitted. "I have researched Human sexuality, but my discoveries have been very concise and clinical. I had no indication how good different things feel, or what can be done to stimulate certain nerve endings. There is so much I learn just being with you."

"I think that's just the way it is, Annika," Janeway said. "When I grew up, courses on human anatomy and sexuality were part of my schooling, but it was very dry stuff ... rather like the doctor's graphic seminars. The actual art of making love, of being intimate with someone, of learning all about another's bodies as well as your own, can still be a process of trial and error, unfortunately. Or maybe that's fortunate because the discovery can be so wonderful in itself. In any event, I learned how risky being careless can be in my first affair, and it was very inconvenient to have to deal with it."

"During your time with Cheb Packer, you mean," Seven said, her voice taking on a disapproving tone.

Janeway blinked. "I didn't realize you knew him," she said with surprise.

"When we were assimilated, I 'experienced' your first sexual encounter," Seven replied. "He was very incompetent."

Janeway started to laugh. "Darling, so was I," she said.

"However, he hurt you that first time," Seven said darkly. "I do not believe you hurt him."

Janeway looked at her, startled. "I suppose," she said slowly. "But it wasn't anything that he meant to do, darling. We were both young and inexperienced, and perhaps we didn't take the time that should be taken in a first encounter, but that happens when you're a teenager. The fact is, I learned a lot being with him, what I liked, what I didn't, as I'm sure he did as well. In truth, towards the end, the physical interaction was actually better than the emotional relationship ever was."

Seven shook her head. "I do not understand," she said.

Janeway shook her head. "No, I don't suppose you do," she agreed. She smiled wistfully at her. "You've never been with anyone but me, have you?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "No," she replied. "You have always been very gentle and loving with me. I have never experienced physical discomfort with you."

"I'm very glad, darling," Janeway said gently. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to have their first time be with someone they love and who loves them, nor be with someone who is experienced enough to make it completely pleasurable." She grinned suddenly. "In fact, I'll bet if you think about it, our very first time was not all it could have been either."

"It was wonderful," Seven objected immediately.

"I'm sure it was," Janeway agreed diplomatically, and Seven felt a pang deep inside as she realized that it was something Janeway did not remember at all. "But honestly, Annika, how did it compare to, say ... tonight?"

Seven hesitated, thinking about it. "Tonight was wonderful," she said gravely.

"Better?" Janeway prodded.

Seven dipped her head slightly. "Yes," she admitted finally. "Much better."

"Because you know me now," Janeway remarked. "I think, my body also knew you in its own way. There were times when I touched you where I knew it was absolutely right. Darling, sex is always better when you love the person and trust them absolutely."

Seven thought about it. "You did not love me our first time," she said slowly, though it was a difficult thing for her to admit, especially to herself. "I believe you cared about me, and were attracted to me. You wanted to please me and be intimate with me, but I do not think you loved me. Not completely. That came later."

"That's entirely possible," Janeway said, and her voice became very dry. "According to the personal logs I read, I was just considering the whole idea when you popped up unexpectedly in my bed one night."

Seven hesitated. "You did not object," she noted, somewhat defensively.

Janeway laughed and kissed her. "I'd have been a fool if I had," she said. "Honestly, it was a good thing you did catch me unawares, my love. I'd have waited forever before daring to approach you."

"Why?" Seven asked.

"My rank," Janeway explained easily. "The ship, the crew, the difficulties in such a relationship..."

"Yes, you told me these reasons before," Seven said. "However, I still do not understand why you would let them keep you from being in love. Keep you from being happy."

Janeway was silent for a long moment, and Seven waited patiently. When the captain spoke, it was in a very thoughtful voice. "I think," she said slowly, "it all boils down to simple fear, Annika."

"Fear?"

Janeway nodded. "The fear of getting hurt," she said. "Whether professionally or personally. No one in the universe can hurt me so completely, darling. That is a power I have granted to only you."

Seven took a breath. "I never want to hurt you," she said with difficulty.

"I know, but you have, and you probably will again," Janeway explained carefully. "Just as I have hurt you, and probably will again. All without intent or malice. It is such a great responsibility to hold someone's heart, so easy to be careless with it, or forget the importance of it. Things that affect you, affect me and vice versa. There is so much to adjust to, so much to consider when being with someone else. Yet, there is no greater thing than to love and be loved." She shook her head. "Yet, I know that's something I haven't always recognized in my life."

"And now?" Seven prompted curiously.

"Now, I understand it with every fibre of my being," Janeway said. She nuzzled Seven gently. "However, I also know that there will be times when we shall both forget such a simple truth, that duty or circumstance will make us less aware of exactly what matters, just as it has in the past. I can only hope that you'll forgive any inadvertent pain I might bring you, just as I hope I will be able to forgive any you might bring me. That somehow we will continue to adapt and adjust and carry on, growing old together until we ultimately reach that final frontier."

For just a moment, Seven saw their lives stretching out behind and before them, able to imagine their two wildly divergent paths which had somehow intersected to become one, irrevocable entwined, until that unified, infinitely complex path disappeared into the hidden mists that lay beyond life's end. The young woman was profoundly moved, and shaken by what she could only identify as a vision of some sort.

"Are you all right?" Janeway asked gently, studying her face with concern.

Seven nodded, hugging the captain tightly. "I am fine," she said. "I love you, Kathryn Janeway. I am so happy you fell in love with me again."

"Annika," Janeway said softly. "I am going to fall in love with you all over again, every day for the rest of my life. You are my heart, and discovering it exists is a joy I shall never grow tired of."

Seven lacked the words to respond to that as the captain found her lips, feeling the warm, sensitive hands move over her body with a deliberate intent that she welcomed eagerly. Knowing only that her heart was so full, it seemed impossible for it to contain any more, yet somehow it managed to with every passing second.

Janeway leaned over Tom Paris's shoulder as she studied the planetary readings coming from the system detected on the ship's long range sensors. They did not seem promising, and with a sigh, she nodded, signifying he should go on to the next system. On the upper level, working with Harry Kim at his operations station, Chakotay went over the ship's diagnostics, determining which areas could be bypassed in the event of a failure, and which ones needed immediate shoring up.

"This one looks good," Tom said quietly.

Janeway frowned as she observed the data. "It does," she agreed. She glanced behind her. "Commander?"

Chakotay left operations and trotted down the stairs to the lowest level of the bridge where the helm was located. At Janeway's gesture, he studied the readings on Tom's monitor. "Three Class-M planets," he noted. "The middle one with a temperate climate, atmosphere 98% Earth norm. The vegetation scans look promising. At least from this distance." He glanced at the captain. "I think we should go for it."

"I agree," Janeway said. "Set a course, Tom." She walked back to her command chair, and sat down, activating her monitor as Chakotay joined her, taking a position in the seat next to her. "No signs of civilization?"

"None so far," Chakotay said, studying his own screen. "Wait."

Startled, she glanced at him and he frowned, his dark eyes somber as studied his data. "Harry, are you picking up anything?" he asked, looking back at the young Lt. Kim, whose handsome features were serious as he worked.

"No sir," Kim responded.

"I thought I saw an energy flux," Chakotay said.

Janeway went back to her screen, waiting for the next sweep of the planet. She blinked. "I see it too," she said even as Harry added, "I have it now, Commander."

Janeway grinned, and glanced over at her executive officer. "Nice catch," she complimented.

He returned her grin. "The eyes aren't too old yet," he said.

She sobered. "What is it?"

"I think it's a beacon of some sort," Kim said slowly. He hesitated, then took a breath. "It's a warning, Captain. The Universal Translator is decoding it now." He waited. "This planet is claimed by the Tikanniti Empire. Do not land upon pain of death."

"Welcoming sorts, aren't they?" Chakotay muttered. He looked over at the Vulcan who was manning the tactical station. "Tuvok?"

Tuvok raised an elegant eyebrow. "There are indications of weapon presence," he said. "However, the signatures are weak and unsteady." He raised his head, his dark eyes seeking out the captain's. "The sensors estimate the probable age of the installation at 300 years. There are no life signs in the vicinity."

The captain's pursed her lips slightly. "No sign of any other habitation?"

"None," Tuvok confirmed. "Apparently, only the beacon was placed here. There is no sign of a colonization attempt, mining or other industrial use. The metal content of the planet's crust is high, and the readings are well within habitable standards."

"Of course," Janeway reminded them. "There's no way of knowing what these Tikanniti determined was habitable, or what they might have wanted the planet for."

"Do we chance it?" Chakotay asked.

She hesitated. Starfleet protocols for landing on planets, which had clearly and blatantly claimed by other civilizations, were quite straight forward. On the other hand, Starfleet was a long way from here, and Voyager's food supplies were in dire shape.

"Any indication of how long it's been since the installation was last visited?" she asked idly to the bridge at large. She didn't know who would answer, but she knew someone would as she saw all their heads bend conscientiously to their boards.

Harry got it first. "Sensors indicate that there are elements in the installation which are only 150 years old."

"No sign of anything more recent?"

"No, Captain," Harry replied.

"They built well," Janeway said quietly. "However, it seems abandoned now."

"We can check it out," Chakotay offered. "If it is just neglected rather than abandoned, we should be able to find out soon enough."

"That's what worries me," Janeway said. "The finding out might include lethal force." She paused. "In fact, it's a possibility that it isn't a display of force at all, but some sort of warning about a hazard on the planet itself, a disease or bacteria. Perhaps this is a form of quarantine."

"We can try one of the other planets, or go on to the next system," Chakotay offered. He was not indicating what he would prefer, only giving her all the options he could think of.

"Can we afford that?" Janeway said in a low tone.

"It's tight, Captain," he told her honestly. "Supplies are lean, and according to engineering, the food replicators aren't going to be up anytime soon. This planet's vegetation is compatible to us, and it could be awhile before we find another as good."

She nodded. "We need more information," she said. She glanced up at Tom who was half turned in his chair, his boyish face inquisitive as he awaited her decision. "Put us in orbit, Tom," she said. "Yellow alert, raise shields. Set up a continual scan of the biosphere. Let's see what we have here."

The lights dimmed on the bridge, casting an amber glow over them as they waited with anticipation and controlled excitement. The door hissed open and Janeway glanced back to see Seven enter the bridge, taking up a position at the tactical station aft of the command chairs when she saw the alert status.

"Seven, have you have heard of the Tikanniti?" the captain asked.

"Species 632," Seven said promptly. "The Borg added their biological and technological distinctiveness 87 years ago. They originated in a system 600 light years from here, and used a propulsion system that required the expenditure of great amounts of energy. Though their ships rivaled Voyager in size, frequently they only carried a crew of six or seven individuals, able to travel huge distances, but at prohibitive cost. They made a habit of claiming every uninhabited planet they encountered during their explorations in the hope that, one day, they would be able to colonize and exploit them."

There was an immediate easing of tension on the bridge, and Janeway cast a rueful glance at Chakotay who grinned at her. "Next time, let's just ask Seven," he suggested.

"It would save time ... and adrenalin," Janeway agreed. She glanced back at her partner. "Did they ever utilize any of these claimed planets?"

"Their technology was flawed, and never achieved the ability to move large amounts of cargo or people," Seven responded. She paused. "The Collective did not gain a great deal by assimilating them," she added thoughtfully.

"I'm sure the Tikanniti thought the same thing," Tom said dryly.

Seven glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, obviously catching the sarcasm, before returning her attention to the captain. "Sensors indicate a Tikanniti installation," she said.

"Yes," Janeway agreed. "Is it dangerous?"

"It will contain a weapons system," Seven explained. "However, it will have decayed significantly. It is likely that it is no longer operational."

"Still, we don't need to take unnecessary chances," Janeway said. She looked forward. "Tom, keep the planet between us and the installation. We can use this side for gathering our supplies. Make sure any flight path of the shuttles remain well clear of its range."

"Aye, Captain," he said, keying in the controls.

"In the meantime," she added, glancing at Chakotay, "I still want those sensor sweeps. I don't want any surprises for the away team. I also want a list of who you intend to send down on my desk within the hour."

"Understood," he said.

She glanced back at Seven, aware that there was no real reason for the young woman to be on the bridge right now. She raised a quizzical eyebrow, to which Seven tilted her head slightly in the general direction of the ready room, indicating that she wished to speak with the captain privately. Janeway raised her eyebrow again, asking if it was professional or personal. The slight dip to Seven's head, along with a soft expression in her eyes, told the captain it was personal, but not urgent, and that it could wait until the captain was free. Janeway nodded briefly, indicating that now was acceptable.

This silent communication took no more than a few seconds, and Janeway looked back at Chakotay who was completely oblivious of it. "Until then, I'll be in my ready room," she said.

He nodded as Janeway stood, and motioned with her chin to Seven, who obligingly followed her as the captain strode briskly off the bridge. If anyone thought this was unusual, they did not mention it, and Janeway was struck by the sudden thought that she had no idea when and where she had developed all these subtle, nonverbal signals with Seven.

The captain mounted the short flight of stairs to the upper level of her ready room where large windows of transparent aluminum loomed over a blue couch and matching chairs. In front of the sofa was a coffee table with a glass top on which rested a silver serving tray. A tall thermos stood starkly upright, the purely functional cylinder looking out of place against the delicate lines of the tea set sharing the tray with it. Janeway opened the thermos, and poured the liquid it contained into an elegant white teacup, banded by gold around the rim, the rich aroma of coffee rising into her nostrils with the steam. With pleasure, she picked it up and sipped it, savoring the deep roast flavor before turning to look at Seven who was standing patiently behind her, hands linked behind her back, regarding the captain with an indulgent expression.

Janeway flicked an eyebrow. "It's only my second cup," she said, somewhat defensively.

"I am impressed with your restraint," Seven responded deadpan. "It is already 1400 hours."

Janeway made an amused face at her, and sank down onto the couch. "What's going on?" she asked.

Seven took a seat in one of the chairs, her posture absolutely perfect, hands folded neatly on her lap. Janeway wondered if her partner would ever learn to slouch ... or if she even wanted her to.

"It is Jake," Seven said.

Janeway felt her lips twitch. Seven had been planning to retrieve the puppy and his things from Ensign Wildman's quarters earlier in the day. "Go on," she said cautiously.

Seven took a deep breath. "Naomi seemed very dismayed at returning him," she said. "She cried a great deal." Not only had that surprised Seven, it was obvious from her expression that it had also disturbed her deeply. She looked anxiously at the captain. "Additionally, he has destroyed a pair of Ensign Wildman's boots by chewing on them. I told her you would arrange to replace them, but she was ... not pleased. Jake is very disturbed as well. He howled all the way back to our quarters, and has not stopped. He does not want to live with us anymore, Kathryn."

"Oh dear," Janeway said, trying to hide her smile.

Seven stared at her. "You are amused," Seven said in tones of outrage. "You believe this is humorous."

Caught, Janeway shook her head, holding up a hand in mute apology. "Not really, darling," she said gently. "However, after everything else that's been happening, this seems positively ... minor ... in comparison."

"Everyone is upset," Seven responded. "Especially Jake."

"They'll get over it," Janeway assured her. "Including Jake. He just misses Naomi because she played with him all the time."

Seven looked very unhappy. "Perhaps..." Then she stopped, not finishing her thought. That was very unusual, and Janeway frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"Perhaps Jake would be better off with Naomi," Seven said slowly. "We cannot give him the attention she can. He seems happier with her."

Janeway clamped down on her immediate response, which was a tart one. Instead, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to remember that Seven adored Jake as much as she did despite her occasional pretense to the contrary. This was not a matter of the Borg wanting to get rid of him, it simply meant that Seven loved Jake enough to want him to be happy, even if it meant that she would not be. Seven had a much gentler heart than the captain, something Janeway had suspected for some time, though she didn't think anyone else on the ship was aware of it.

"Annika, Naomi is not capable of taking care of a growing puppy, which means Ensign Wildman would have to. That's not a fair thing to ask of her," Janeway explained carefully. "Also, while I suspect you're correct in saying that Jake would enjoy being with the child more, we can manage that without giving him up. We'll just have to make some sort of visitation arrangement through the day when we're on duty, and Naomi isn't in school."

Seven nodded with relief. "That is a better solution," she said. She frowned. "I should have thought of that, and not bothered you."

Janeway put down her cup and leaned forward, reaching out to put her hand on Seven's, entwining their fingers. "You never bother me," she said softly, looking into her eyes intently. "Except in the way I love to be bothered."

Uncertainly, Seven looked at her, then blushed faintly. "Still," she noted. "You are on duty now."

"Maybe," Janeway agreed. "But if there's one thing I've learned about children and dogs, they don't care about duty. Who knows, maybe they have the right set of priorities." She smiled. "Seven, if I couldn't speak with you now, I'd have let you know. I want you to come to me with these things. We're still partners, regardless of the command structure we happen to find ourselves in at any given moment."

Seven took a breath. "Before, you would not have said that," she said softly. "You are indeed a different person now."

Janeway tilted her head. "Does that still bother you?" she asked.

"No," Seven said thoughtfully. "I think I like it ... and you ... a great deal better."

Janeway blinked. "Oh," she said, not knowing whether to be flattered or insulted by that, then decided for her own peace of mind to be neither. "All right." She brought Seven's hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles gently. "However, I do have duties to attend."

"As do I," Seven remarked. "I will arrange a schedule for Naomi to see Jake.  Then I must report to astrometrics."

She abruptly stood up in preparation of leaving, pausing in mild surprise as Janeway reached out and caught her hands, restraining her gently.

"I do expect a kiss before you go, however," the captain said huskily. "That's an order."

Seven smiled then, her wonderful rare smile. "That is an order I shall always obey willingly," she said, taking Janeway into her arms.

They kissed gently, then when that went well, they kissed again, more passionately this time. Then, a third kiss, deeper still, open and lingering, and Janeway felt herself falling easily into the warmth and tenderness of their embrace.

"I must go," Seven murmured finally against the captain's lips. "I have duty now."

"Yes, you do," Janeway agreed, holding the young woman even tighter.

"It is difficult," Seven whispered. "To let you go."

Janeway nuzzled her, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I know," she responded. "I think we're in our honeymoon period, darling."

"'Honeymoon'?"

Janeway smiled. "It's a period of time when two people first become lovers, and they can't keep away from each other," she explained. She pressed against the young woman, stroking Seven's body through the thin material of the Borg's outfit, cupping the full breast, and feeling delightfully wicked as the nipple suddenly protruded beneath her fingertips. "I know I'm having an impossible time keeping my hands off you."

Seven allowed a brief smile to warm her ice blue eyes, and with gentle determination, she grasped the captain's wrists, pushing her away. "Then I must be strong," she said quietly. "I will see you in our quarters after our shifts are complete."

"I'll be waiting," Janeway told her, grinning at her impertinently.

Seven eyed her briefly, then turned and descended the short flight of stairs. The captain crossed her arms over her chest and watched as her partner walked away from her, lustful appreciation lighting her eyes as she greedily drank in the undulations of the firm buttocks and long legs. Then, as the door slid shut behind the Borg,  Janeway shook her head, amused at how she was acting, smiling wryly to herself as she retrieved her coffee.

Forcing herself to get back to work.

Seven of Nine finished the chart for a nebula some 20 light-years away, using the long range sensors to pinpoint its composition. Lying directly in their path back to the Alpha Quadrant, it was not large as these things went, but it was significant enough that they would have to use up a lot of time to go around. Yet, it seemed that going through it would be unwise since it contained an excessive amount of radiation.

Seven did not think that they would be able to try the same trick they had used previously where the crew were placed in stasis tubes, and she had flown the ship through by herself. For one thing, it would take longer than a month to cross, and for another, she no longer had the same resistance to radiation that she had then. The loss of her abdominal implant had decreased her immunity to a lot of things, though truth be told, she much preferred being without it. Kathryn did as well, Seven was sure.

Despite her best efforts to concentrate on work, she found her thoughts increasingly occupied with her partner. The captain seemed far more amorous now than she had prior to her injury, and while some of that was no doubt due to their recent deprivation, it seemed out of character for Kathryn. On the other hand, Seven was still learning about the woman she now loved. Perhaps this was just another layer she had uncovered, another facet to the personality that Kathryn was allowing her to understand.

Seven sighed quietly, reaching out to touch the soft petals of a single red rose which sat on her console, contained in a crystal vase. She knew that Janeway was expending one of her replication slips every day, just so Seven could have a fresh flower waiting for her when she came into her lab. Oddly enough, the captain persisted in denying it, scoffing at the thought she would give up an extra cup of coffee for such a thing, but the protests were completely unconvincing. So Seven could only hug her tightly, and thank her anyway.

She turned as the soft hiss of the opening door heralded the arrival of someone, identifying the ship's chief engineer. "B'Elanna Torres," she said. She tilted her head slightly. "Is something wrong?"

While Voyager was in orbit around the planet, and several away teams had transported down to gather foodstuffs, B'Elanna had been taking the opportunity to refine all the repairs Seven had overseen. The Borg hoped they had met with the chief engineer's approval.

The dark, compact female, with the distinctive Klingon ridges on her forehead, frowned at Seven. "What makes you think anything's wrong?" she growled.

Seven hesitated. "Nothing," she said finally, after discarding an entire list of obvious clues which she had learned would only serve to further aggravate the other woman. Normally, she would indulge in that, prodding the Klingon into annoyance for the sheer sake of seeing how B'Elanna would react, but she decided not to this day. For some reason, she sensed the engineer was already far more edgy than she should be, and not in an amusing fashion, either. "May I assist you?"

"I want to know what you did with the plasma intake relay," B'Elanna said, slapping a padd down on Seven's astrometrics console.

Seven blinked. "Why?" she asked. "Is it malfunctioning?"

"No, it's improved efficiency by eight percent," B'Elanna snapped.

Seven raised an eyebrow. Why the engineer was so clearly upset about an improvement in efficiency was beyond her comprehension.

"I recalibrated the vent transfers," she said cautiously. "Realigning them allowed for a quicker flow."

B'Elanna punched the console with a resounding thud, making Seven jump. "Dammit, Seven, why didn't you come to me with this?" she said loudly.

"Is that why you are upset? Because I did not obtain your authorization?" Seven asked, puzzled. "You were still incapacitated by the poison."

"No, because this should have been done a year ago," B'Elanna responded, and to Seven's astonishment, she was shouting now. "Why did you wait this long?"

"A year ago you would not allow me to do such an adjustment," Seven pointed out honestly, completely confused. "Nor did you agree with me when I suggested it. I believe you mentioned something about me being unable to grasp the finer points of Starfleet technology."

"Why the hell did you listen to me?"

Seven took a breath. This conversation was bordering on the absurd, and it occurred to her that possibly there was something else causing this strong emotion in her friend. She hesitated, then took a wild stab at it.

"How are you and Chakotay progressing?" she asked.

B'Elanna stared at her, mouth open as if unable to believe what Seven had just said, then her face crumpled and she turned away. Seven gathered that meant her guess had been very close to accurate, and she allowed herself a certain amount of pride for being so astute. Belatedly, she became aware that the Klingon was actually weeping.

"B'Elanna?" Seven said, with a certain amount of trepidation.

She did not have a lot of experience with crying females, other than her spouse, and B'Elanna was the last person she would have expected to react in such a way. In fact, the engineer was the strongest person Seven knew ... after Kathryn, of course. She carefully put her hand on B'Elanna's shoulders, amazed at how fragile it suddenly seemed. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right," B'Elanna snuffled. "Do I damned well look all right?"

"No, you do not," Seven said honestly. "That is why I inquired." She gently pulled the smaller woman around, looking worriedly into her friend's face which was flushed and tear stained. "Please tell me what is wrong, B'Elanna."

"Chakotay and I broke up," the Klingon whispered.

Seven was startled. "When?" she asked.

"Last night," the Klingon said, and burst into tears once more.

The young woman threw her arms around a horrified Seven, and buried her face on the young woman's chest. The Borg felt unmistakable dampness spread rapidly through her outfit, similar to when Jake had been much younger and had an 'accident'. That had been equally as unpleasant, and awkwardly, Seven patted B'Elanna on the back, feeling very uncomfortable. It occurred to her, that except for Janeway, she had never actually touched anyone else for very long, certainly not in a comforting mode. Holding B'Elanna was not at all reminiscent of holding Kathryn. The Klingon was all hard edges and solid bone, heavy in Seven's arms, particularly when compared to the delicate form of the captain.

"B'Elanna," she said helplessly. "Would you like me to call Kathryn?"

"No," B'Elanna said, abruptly stepping away, and pulling a big white cloth from her sleeve, which she used to wipe her face and blow her nose. Loudly. "She'd just take his side."

"His side?"

B'Elanna looked at Seven, betrayal and outrage dominant in her eyes. "He blames me for his ex-girlfriend going psycho," she said. "Can you believe that?"

Seven considered that. "No," she answered honestly. "Lt. James was already emotionally disturbed before you threatened to kill her."

"Exactly!" B'Elanna said. She began to pace. "I mean, it's not like he knows what the hell he's doing when it comes to women anyway. Seska was a damned Cardassian for crying out loud."

Seven wondered if she should ask who Seska was, and decided she shouldn't complicate matters which were already confusing enough. "Have you told him this?" she tried.

"He doesn't listen," B'Elanna stormed. "Men never do. They always think they're right, and you can't change their minds." She stopped and stared at Seven. "Tell me something, why is it when every other couple on this ship has a crisis, they fall apart, but when you and the captain go through hell, you come out of it stronger than ever?"

Seven did not know what to say. "We love each other," she said finally.

"That can't be all there is to it," B'Elanna objected. She stalked around the room, glaring furiously at nothing in particular. Seven was actually glad to see this. A furious Torres was a great deal easier to comprehend than a distraught Torres. "I love him. I thought he loved me. Why the hell did he blame me for something his old girlfriend did? I loved Tom, I thought he loved me, but the second he thinks I'm dead, he goes and sleeps with Jennifer Delaney." She stopped and glared at Seven who flinched slightly. "It's because you're both women, isn't it?" she accused loudly.

"I do not know," Seven offered honestly, startled by the question.

B'Elanna nodded, obviously convinced by her conclusion. "Men and women were never meant to be together," she said. "Take out the reproductive aspect, and the whole concept is just totally incomprehensible." She took a deep breath, then nodded her head as if coming to a conclusion. "That's it," she said. "Men and women have nothing in common. Women do. I'm going to have to find myself a woman." She slapped Seven soundly on the arm. "Thanks Seven, I really appreciate your help."

She turned, and left the astrometrics lab as Seven stared after her with both confusion and apprehension. Wondering what exactly she had done to help B'Elanna.

Not to mention how much trouble it could potentially cause.

Captain Janeway entered her quarters and stopped, regarding her dog curiously. Jake lay in the middle of the floor, ears down, eyes moist and sad. He glanced briefly over at her, sighed, then stared straight ahead again, obviously depressed. She felt her lips twitch, and she strolled over to him, kneeling down next to the hairy ball of red.

"What's wrong, boy," she said quietly, patting him gently on his ribs. "You've been moping around for a week.  You really don't like Naomi leaving you here, do you?"

He whimpered and looked pathetic. She rolled her eyes, and with a resigned sigh, she picked him up, noting that it wasn't as easy as it once was, the pup rapidly increasing in size every day. He suddenly seemed to be all legs, ungainly and hard to hold as she carried him over to the couch and sat down with him on her lap, a bit relieved to be rid of the weight.

"That's a good boy," she crooned. "It's going to be all right.  Seven and I aren't so bad to live with, are we?"

She patted him lavishly, and eventually the tip of his tail quivered briefly. She scratched his ears, then rolled him over on his back, rubbing his belly gently. The tail thumped once, then again. Finally, he rolled over and jumped up on her, trying to lick her face.

Janeway guessed this meant he had forgiven them for not allowing him to live with his child. Or what would surely be better in his opinion, the child allowed to live here with him.

"I promise to play with you more," she told him, thumping him soundly on the ribs, even as she knew that was a promise she was unlikely to keep.

She pushed him onto the deck, and smiled as she got up, glad to see his natural exuberant manner had returned. He gamboled around her as she went to the replicator, and spent a ration to make his supper. She realized she still had to make up for his board the weeks he had been away, so she made a note in her padd, authorizing Ensign Wildman to receive double ration strips for the next two weeks, as well as signing a request to stores for a new pair of boots, taking it out of her and Seven's allotment. She took it over to the work area, uploaded the memo into the main computer where it would be recorded by the program which kept track of supplies and equipment, as well as the rationing system.

She hoped when Ensign Wildman got back from the planet's surface where she had joined Neelix's team, she would be pleasantly surprised, and not still so annoyed that she couldn't be utilized as a dog sitter in the future.

She glanced up as Seven entered, smiling warmly at the Borg. She did note that her partner's expression was downcast, but the young woman did not hesitate in coming over to be embraced. Janeway hugged her waist tightly, and looked up into the narrow features.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Seven appeared startled, and Janeway wondered briefly if she had been somewhat less conscious of her partner's moods before her injury. Certainly, Seven gave indications that what should be normal concern on Janeway's part was something she did not always expect.

Hey, remember your logs? her little voice prodded acidly. You forgot her birthday. Of course you were oblivious to her needs.

Janeway hoped her current awareness of Seven's subtle expressions was something that would stay with her.

"I am experiencing regret," the young woman explained, bending her head to rest her cheek against the captain's temple. "Chakotay and B'Elanna have 'broken up'."

Janeway frowned. "That's too bad, darling," she said. "I know I can't remember it very well, but I sensed they got along well."

"Chakotay blames her for Lt. James's actions," Seven said. She looked at her captain. "Will you speak with him?"

Janeway blinked, startled. "Annika, it's hardly a captain's place to interfere in the romantic lives of her crew," she said.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "That has never stopped you before," she said with astonishment. "You tried very hard to reunite B'Elanna and Tom when they 'broke up'." She paused, then regarded Janeway with sudden suspicion. "Are you going to make the attempt again, now that B'Elanna and Chakotay are no longer together?"

Janeway didn't quite know what to say. "Uh, darling I don't think that's the right thing to do," she said slowly. "It's better to stay out of other people's love lives altogether."

Seven stared at her, looking very confused. Then she sighed. "Sometimes it is more difficult than others to understand the changes you have gone through," she said finally. "They seem so ... random."

Seven sounded so disgruntled, that Janeway was hard pressed not to laugh. "I know," she said, schooling her voice to a more sympathetic tone. "It's hard for me too."

Seven suddenly tightened her grip. "I did not mean to indicate I disliked the changes," she said in a more subdued tone.

"Annika, it's all right," Janeway soothed. "My memory, or lack thereof, is a fact of life. It's not anything we need to dance around, or tread lightly upon. Nor is it something I'm sensitive about, all right?"

"Very well," Seven agreed. She sighed. "What are we going to do about B'Elanna?"

"We're not going to do anything about B'Elanna," Janeway told her firmly. "The only thing you can do is be a friend, and listen when she needs to talk."

"But she is so unhappy," Seven insisted.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Janeway allowed. "However, this is something she needs to work out for herself."

"She says she is going to find herself a woman," Seven said. "She no longer believes men and women are meant to be together." She paused. "Is that a sound theory?" she asked curiously.

Janeway swallowed her smile. "It sounds a little misguided," she admitted. "It's not about gender, darling, it's about who the person is inside, if you're compatible, if the emotion between you is strong enough to withstand any obstacle. It's about who is right for you."

Seven nodded thoughtfully, then glanced into the captain's eyes and smiled briefly. "You are the right one for me," she said.

Janeway reached up and kissed her gently. "I'm glad you feel that way, because you are imminently suitable for me," she noted in a low murmur. They shared several more kisses, light, gentle, very sweet gradually deepening and becoming more insistent. Janeway was shaky when she finally pulled away. "Oh my."

Seven took a breath. "It has been difficult to control myself lately," she admitted.

"Oh love, I know exactly what you mean," Janeway agreed. She kissed Seven's chin, nibbling along the jawline. "Perhaps we're just making up for lost time. Were we like this originally?"

"I do not believe so," Seven replied slowly.

"Perhaps this attraction between us is much stronger now," Janeway explained. "I just want to be with you all the time, Annika."

Seven seemed surprised, but accepting. "I want to be with you," she said. She tugged at Janeway's uniform. "Let us be together, then."

Janeway laughed. "I'm not arguing," she said, shrugging out of her tunic.

She reached up to the back of Seven's neck where the Borg's outfit fastened, her fingers fumbling a little as she managed to undo it, and she pulled off the skintight mesh material, peeling it down Seven's torso and over her hips. In the meantime, Seven was loosening the Starfleet uniform, removing the sweater, helping the captain out of her trousers and boots, both tossing aside the restrictive garments without regard in their haste to be together.

They sank to the floor, too eager to take the extra steps to the bedroom or, for that matter, even to the couch across the room. However, this romantic idea displayed its impracticality immediately as Jake tore across the room, and jumped on Seven's back, thinking this must be a fun sort of game indeed. Janeway let out a muted 'oof' as Seven was flattened onto her, feeling the weave of the carpet imprint itself onto her back.

"We cannot make love like this," the Borg complained, shrugging the puppy away as she took her weight off Janeway, allowing her to breathe once more. "It is inefficient."

Janeway gulped, swallowing her outburst of laughter, eyes bright as she looked up at her lover. "Now I know the real reason you want to give him to Naomi," she said.

Seven looked at her, startled, then sighed as she saw the captain was not being serious. "I do remember when we used to be able to make love out here," she said. "Without his input." She abruptly picked the captain up, lifting her easily much to Janeway's surprise and gratification, and carried her into the bedroom where the captain found herself laid gently down on the mattress. "You were right not to allow him to sleep with us or we would never be able to make love at all."

"And that would be very, very bad," Janeway said sincerely. She thought her partner looked absolutely adorable standing over her naked, long hair mussed, hands resting on her luscious hips. Janeway's eyes widened. "Come here," she commanded in a suddenly husky voice.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Is that an order, Captain?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Janeway responded. "Consider yourself on very active duty for the foreseeable future, serving a command detail of the most intensive kind."

Seven blinked. "Indeed," she said dryly. "What might that entail?"

Janeway reached out for her. "Let me show you," she said, smiling broadly.

Seven of Nine stared up at the ceiling, swallowing hard against a mouth gone dry from panting, trying to dredge up some remnants of saliva. She felt Kathryn's body slide over hers, incredibly warm, slick with perspiration and other, more earthy fluids, sighing as the captain began to nibble at her breasts once more.

"We are required to sleep sometime," she noted feebly.

"What happened to all that Borg stamina?" Kathryn asked, pausing in her attentions to look mischievously at her. "It's not even midnight."

"We have been making love since 1800," Seven pointed out. "That was five hours ago ... without pause for rest or nutritional supplements."

"This is a bad thing?" Kathryn asked curiously.

"No," Seven said slowly. "However, it is very unusual."

Kathryn hesitated. "It is?" she said, staring at her. "Have I never showed you the real me?"

"If the 'real you' is insatiable," Seven said dryly. "Then, I would have to say 'no'."

Kathryn looked thoughtful, idly fingering a nipple. "Annika, honestly, I've always liked sex, and one of my favorite discoveries about being with you is that, unlike my male lovers, you don't have to stop to recover."

"I do right now," Seven protested.

Kathryn seemed to concede the point. "I suppose five hours is a bit much," she allowed somewhat insincerely. "Darling, have we never indulged like this?"

Seven thought about it. "Sometimes," she said slowly. "Only at my initiation, however, and never for this long. Sometimes I even felt as if I was too ... interested in physical intimacy. I sensed that you were ... being tolerant of a weakness within me."

Kathryn blinked, suddenly sobering. "Then I did you a great disservice, my darling," she said quietly. "I absolutely love being with you, Annika. I love how you feel, how you taste, how you smell. I feel as if I can't get enough of you."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "You have said that before," she said. "However, until now, I do not think I really believed you meant it."

"More fear," Kathryn said softly, shaking her head ruefully. "I was so afraid of showing you who I was, with all my wants and needs and desires, afraid they might be perceived as a weakness. I must have wanted to display only strength and discipline."

Seven considered that. "Why?"

Kathryn shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "Perhaps because you're female. Perhaps because you're a crewmember under my command. Perhaps because I was afraid that if you saw the real me, how much I desire you, how possessive and aggressive I can be, it would scare you away."

Seven took a breath. "You would never scare me away," she said.

"I'm glad," Kathryn said quietly. She smiled suddenly, and flicked Seven's nipple with a fingertip. "Was that enough of a time out? Are you recovered yet?"

Seven whimpered, doing her best to sound pitiful. "I require liquid," she said weakly. "I am becoming dehydrated."

"I think we're doing wonderfully in the wetness department," Kathryn said.

Seven eyed her uncertainly, then realized she was being facetious. "I require fluids I can metabolize," she insisted. "To restore my electrolytes."

Janeway grinned at her, but obligingly hopped up to get water from the ensuite. While the captain attended to the refreshments, Seven contemplated her body and wondered if she could muster enough energy for another bout. The ironic thing was, she knew that if she still had her abdominal implant, there would be no question about her endurance. However, since the implant's removal, she did not have the same ability to go without sleep or nutrients with no adverse affect as she had before. Still, it seemed impossible to her that the small, compact Kathryn, who was almost twenty years older, possessed more stamina and vitality than Seven did. She wondered if this was the secret behind the captain's undefeated streak in Velocity ... an inhuman, unnatural ability to go beyond the body's normal limitations.

Or perhaps there was something wrong with Seven herself. A lack of some amino acid or vitamin perhaps. She would have to speak to the Doctor about it.

She glanced up as Kathryn joined her, carrying a tall pitcher of water in which ice cubes clinked mutely. The captain poured a glass for her partner, and offered it to the young woman. Seven sat up and drank eagerly, grateful for the cold fluid filling her, holding it out for a refill which the captain immediately obeyed. After two more glasses, Seven's thirst finally quenched, Kathryn took the glass, filled it with ice and hopped up on the bed, straddling the Borg who found herself abruptly flattened against the mattress.

"Let me teach you the difference between hot and cold, darling," Kathryn said huskily.

"I know the difference between hot and cold," Seven responded warily, looking up at her.

Kathryn leered gently at her. "Not like this," she said.

She began to stroke Seven's nipple with her left hand, and despite her weariness, Seven could not help but be aroused. She considered Kathryn's caress for a moment. "Your fingers are warm," she noted, in case that was what Kathryn was getting at. "Not overly warm, however."

"The lesson's just beginning," Kathryn said, leaning down to kiss her. The captain's mouth seemed very hot, and Seven wondered if this was what she had meant. She was vaguely aware of the captain fishing an ice cube out of the glass with her fingers, but when Kathryn suddenly pulled away from the kiss, popped the cube in her mouth, bent down and covered Seven's breast with it, the Borg was immediately enlightened.

"Oh ... ahh," Seven exclaimed. "Kathryn!"

She paused, swallowing hard at the sensation of ice against her already stimulated breast, the mixture of tongue and cube swirling around her nipple.

"This is ... an interesting lesson," she added unsteadily.

Seven could feel the bright edge of teeth as Kathryn smiled around the nipple, which were so hard now it ached, and the Borg let her breath out slowly. She never would have imagined that cold could be so stimulating, or was it just the contrast to the warmth of Kathryn? She could not decide. She only knew it felt wonderful and exciting, and extemely arousing.

The captain explored every inch of Seven's body, alternating the warmth of her mouth and hands to the sudden chill of ice at just the right moment to inspire the most intense sensations. Seven wondered how Kathryn knew where to touch her, then she lost some of her analytical ability as her lover finally reached the juncture of her legs, and started doing the most amazing things with the little cubes of frozen water. When Kathryn gently inserted a small cube into Seven as she covered the hard little ridge with the searing heat of her mouth, the Borg lost the ability to think much at all.

It took some time before Seven came back to herself, to her reality, shivering as the sensations died away, leaving her weak and a little cold. Kathryn drew the blankets up around them, and wrapped herself around Seven, her body a comforting and welcome warmth.

"How do you formulate these ideas?" Seven asked huskily, after they had relaxed for long moments in the dim illumination.

"I believe I'm gifted," Kathryn said calmly.

Seven blinked, thought about it, and finally realized it was an attempt at humor. "I am glad you are sharing that gift with me," she said.

Kathryn laughed. "I thought I was being too much for you," she said slyly, shifting so that she was now propped up on the Borg's chest, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Do you like being ravished?"

"'Ravished'?"

"Making love until you can't, anymore," Kathryn clarified.

Seven frowned briefly. "I can still make love," she said, her pride finally piqued. "The water has restored my energy level."

Kathryn grinned. "Oh, really," she murmured, bending down to kiss Seven gently. "We'll have to see about that."

Seven wondered what that meant, then Kathryn showed her ... more times than the young woman could keep track of.

Janeway woke late the next day in gloriously tangled sheets, and the weight of an arm draped heavily across her body, sideways in the bed rather than in the traditional north to south position. She stretched, wincing a bit at the stiffness and the tender parts of her which set up a clamor of protest.

Dear god, what was I thinking?

It had almost been a compulsion, a driving need to prove to Seven that she loved her utterly, that she could not get enough of her physically. Janeway glanced over at her partner who was lying on her belly, sound asleep, not stirring even when the captain shifted position, easing from beneath the slender arm and out of bed.

Well, I guess I proved it, Janeway thought, grinning wryly as she looked down on the young woman sprawled across the bed, completely unconscious. Poor darling, I've worn her out.

She leaned down, and kissed Seven gently on the temple, pulling the sheet up around her, tucking her in. Then she walked somewhat gingerly to the ensuite where she programmed the tub for a bath, feeling every one of her forty-three years plus a few more besides.

Sometimes I'm too damned enterprising for my own good, she decided somewhat ruefully.

She poured her favorite oils into the tub, then got in, sinking down into the smooth, silky water with a sigh of utter bliss. The lingering soreness seeped out of her, leaving behind a pleasant lassitude and she smiled, head back, closing her eyes as she soaked. Time became meaningless. and it was finally the scent of Columbian Gold coffee which drew her out of her floating contentment. She opened her eyes partway to see a mug offered only inches from her face, steam rising from its deep black surface, wafting towards her nostrils which quivered at the rich aroma.

"Have I ever told you how absolutely perfect you are, my darling?" she said lazily in a deeply seductive voice as she accepted the mug.

"Not recently, sweetheart," the Doctor remarked. "It's always nice to hear, however."

Janeway started abruptly, barely able to keep from spilling her mug into her bath as water sloshed over the sides. She turned her head, glaring daggers at the neatly uniformed hologram kneeling next to the tub. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. There was no point in trying to cover up. It wasn't a bubble bath, and besides, her hands were full with the coffee mug.

He raised an eyebrow. "You had an appointment last night at 1900," he reminded her pointedly. "So I stopped by to see if anything was the matter. Seven let me in and instructed me to take that to you." He frowned as he tilted his head and stared pointedly at the coffee mug. "She seemed to think you could not start your day without it. Have I ever mentioned that you drink far too much of the stuff?"

"Don't bother," she said, sipping her drink, relieved to see that it was indeed Seven's special brew, and not something the doctor had come up with. She eyed him and made a face. "I forgot about the appointment," she added, somewhat contritely.

He sighed. "Captain, your short term memory is perfectly fine," he said. "If you do not remember your checkups, I have to believe it's on purpose."

Janeway dipped her head slightly, not willing to concede the point but perfectly aware that it was accurate. "If I'm fine," she said silkily. "Then why do I need to see you?"

"Just to be sure," he said frowning. He drew out his medical tricorder, removed a probe and began to run it over her. "Stay still, will you?"

"Must you do that here?" she asked with annoyance.

"I wanted to do it last night in sickbay," he said, frowning at his screen. He flicked a glance at her. "Honestly, captain, I'm a hologram, not a peeping Tom. It's not as if I haven't seen it all before." His voice gave the indication that he was infinitely weary of what he had to see regarding her body, piquing her vanity. It took an effort to hold back her initial tart rejoinder.

"Will this take long?" she asked, when she finally allowed herself to speak.

"No longer than it would have last night," he replied unhelpfully. "Hmm, neural pathways are all healthy, no sign of scar tissue. Synapses seem to be firing on all nodes." He sniffed, then regarded her gravely. "You have not regained any more memory since our last checkup, have you?"

She sighed. "Bits and pieces continue to pop up," she admitted. "Nothing of significance, however."

He nodded, a compassionate expression suddenly coloring his dark eyes. "I believe that is all there is going to be, Captain," he said with uncharacteristic gentleness. "The occasional fragment. I had held out hopes for a full recovery but now ..." He trailed off, looking at her unhappily.

She nodded. "I had arrived at that conclusion myself," she said evenly. "I'm doing fine, Doctor. In fact, I count myself fortunate in a lot of ways."

He nodded, then seemed to straighten, the gentle moment passing. He looked at the tricorder screen and made a dissatisfied sound. "Captain, you have several minor contusions and bruises," he said. "What were you doing? Wrestling with your dog?"

"Not exactly," Janeway said dryly. She glanced down at her chest, noting the marks which were turning yellowish and forced herself not to blush. "Is that everything?"

He glanced at her, seemed to realize he had pushed his chief medical officer authority as far as he could, and nodded. "Do try to remember our next appointment," he said, though it was clear he did not have any expectation for such an outcome. He looked very resigned. "Have a good day, Captain."

"You too," she said with more graciousnous than she felt, watching as he went out. A few moments passed, then Seven appeared in the doorway.

"Do you wish to eat breakfast here or on the table?" the tall blond asked. She was dressed in the short black robe which always served to inspire lustful thoughts in the captain. Janeway was amused to see it still maintained its power, even after a night of unrelenting passion.

"I'm getting out," she replied. "Annika?"

"Yes Kathryn?" Seven paused, looked back.

"Don't let the Doctor come in here, again," Janeway requested. "Not unless I'm severely injured, and there's no other option."

"Very well," Seven said agreeably, obviously unaware that it was not seemly for just anyone to stroll into the captain's bath.

Janeway sighed again. and rose from the water, satisfied that the bath had eased most of her stiffness, and she was once more moving easily. She pinned up her hair, and drew on a sedate, peach colored robe, strolling out into the living area where Seven was already sitting at the table. She found her pips and comm badge next to her place setting, and she realized that Seven had done some tidying up. The last time the captain had seen them, they had been attached to her uniform which had landed in very separate parts of the room, the tunic on the couch, her sweater over a desk in the work area. Now the room was immaculate, breakfast prepared and waiting. It occurred to Janeway as she removed the stasis lid from her dish, that Seven made for the perfect Starfleet officer's wife.

She raised an eyebrow as she regarded her breakfast, then glanced Seven. "Oatmeal?" she said, in the exact same tone she would use for saying 'Kazon'.

"It only requires one ration strip each," Seven explained. "I already had the brown sugar. It seemed the most efficient and nutritional choice."

Janeway sighed and picked up her spoon. "Honestly, Seven, we need to get the food replicators back on line," she said. "I realize that it may seem frivolous when we have the option of Neelix's cooking, but the fact is, we're not in our first year of being lost in the Delta Quadrant, we're almost into our sixth, and I don't know if the crew can take this ongoing hardship after all we've been through. They say an army travels on its stomach? Well, I think that's true of Starfleet as well."

"Or at least, of Starfleet captains," Seven noted dryly. Janeway made a face at her ,and the Borg seemed to relent. "Very well, I will talk with B'Elanna, and see if we can work on both sets of replicators at the same time," she added.

"That would be best," Janeway said. "I am loath to interfere with my crew and their work, but I find I am far less tolerant of rationing now than I was the first time. Certainly, if I feel that way, I think the rest of the crew must as well."

"The crew does seem somewhat more irritable on the whole," Seven allowed quietly. "I think if Lt. James had not been killed in the runabout explosion, then there are several who would volunteer to do the job now."

"I might be one of them," Janeway grumbled, poking at her oatmeal without enthusiasm, then suddenly grinned at Seven's startled look. "That doesn't leave this room, Seven."

"No, Captain," Seven said obediently, eyeing her oddly.

Janeway forced herself to finish her breakfast, then went into the bedroom and dressed in a fresh uniform. She stopped briefly to kiss Seven who handed her the thermos, and fully armed for what remained of the day, the captain headed for the bridge.

Tom Paris leaped up as she entered Voyager's command center, and she took the conn from him, placing the silvery cylinder on the shelf by her chair. A quick scan of the logs, and Tom's report, updated her on what she had missed while she and Seven had been ... indisposed. She lowered her head, feeling her face grow hot at the memory. On the other hand, she decided, I need these memories. If she couldn't have the ones she had lost, then she and Seven would just have to make so many new remembrances, the old ones would never be missed by either of them.

With that thought warming her insides, she set to work, going over the supplies which were already on board, and calculating the time it would take to fill the remaining cargo holds. She did hope Seven and B'Elanna would be able to get the replicators up and running, not just for her sake, or the crew's, but for Neelix who had moved beyond his role as a cook, and had become a security officer. Returning to the messhall full time seemed a step back for him, and she could see that, although he tried to maintain a cheerful front, he chafed under what to many considered a demotion.

She glanced up as Tuvok entered the bridge. Though he did not show it, the Vulcan was assuming some of the blame for Voyager's current predicament. He felt that his security precautions regarding Lt. James had been inadequate, and Janeway's long friendship with him allowed her to see through the impassiveness to know he was having a hard time. The problem was, she didn't really know what she could do to bring him out of it. It wasn't as if she could 'cheer' him up the same way she would a Human.

She wondered if he would enjoy having dinner in her quarters with her and Seven? She could not remember if he had ever been invited over before, or if such a thing would be appealing to him. She would have to ask Seven about it.

"The away team is hailing us, Captain," Susan Nicoletti said from her position at ops. With Harry Kim down on the planet, the dark haired woman had taken over his duties.

"On screen," Janeway said, looking toward the fore viewscreen.

The image of Chakotay appeared, his dark hair tousled from the wind, the view of an expanse of green meadow and a large forest behind him. Janeway thought that the man looked far more relaxed and comfortable in the natural setting than he ever did on the bridge. She wondered if he ever felt confined by Voyager, despite his inclination to go into space.

"Go ahead, Commander," she said.

"Captain, we've discovered some ruins," he told her. "They're concealed by the vegetation, and we missed them on our first scan, but they're definitely ancient. I was wondering if you wanted to send a science and research team down since we still have a week before we finish our primary mission."

She nodded thoughtfully. "For what reason?" she said. "Do you think they're Tikanniti remains?"

"No, our tricorder readings indicate they're far older, a few thousand years," he replied. "I just thought that it's been a while since the archaeology team had anything to play with, this would be ideal."

"You have a point," she allowed, smiling faintly.

One of the hardest things for her people on Voyager to bear was the inability to exploit their skills and talents to the utmost. Those who entered Starfleet through astrophysics were in heaven as they traversed a quadrant no scientist from the Federation had ever been, but those in other fields, such as alien archeology, were rarely able to pursue their studies, constrained by both time and opportunity. A week for them to explore this pile of rubble would be like a vacation, though she knew she would have to pry them out of the area with a tractor beam afterward.

"That's a good idea, Chakotay," she decided. "I'll send down a team."

He nodded and cut the channel, the screen altering to display the brown and green planet they were orbiting. Janeway contacted the science department, seeking out the head of alien archaeology, Dr. William Jamison. He was an older lieutenant, bearded with brown eyes and a receding hairline. As expected, he leaped at the chance to do a little planetside digging, though the captain hesitated briefly when he requested that Seven of Nine accompany them because of the Borg's knowledge of the species in this area. Dr. Jamison indicated that her Collective memories might have information pertaining to the ruins which would help in their investigation, saving a great deal of time which they obviously did not have. Despite the fact it would take Seven away from her for a few days, Janeway found that she had to agree to the request.

Sometimes, the well being of her crew came first, no matter how much it inconvenienced her.

However, she was not surprised when Seven contacted her in the ready room some time later to confirm her orders. "I'm sorry, Seven," she told her over the computer console on her desk. "They feel your input would be invaluable on this away mission, and I have to agree with them. There's no one else I can send."

"Very well," Seven said with little enthusiasm. "I will comply."

Janeway smiled faintly. "It won't be for long, darling," she added in a lower voice. "Just know that I love you and will be thinking about you the entire time."

Seven dipped her head and glanced sideways, which meant she wasn't alone. Janeway hoped that whoever was in the astrometrics lab with Seven had not heard her, not because she was embarrassed by what she felt for her partner or even that it might show a softer, gentler side of her to her crew, but because those words were meant for Seven's ears alone, a personal, private endearment.

Seven looked back at her, the Borg's pale eyes warming perceptively. "I know," she said. "I will, as well."

The communication ended, and Janeway rested her elbows on her desk, linking her fingers before her as she stared thoughtfully at the screen where her partner's image had been. She was amazed at how dismayed she felt at the prospect of spending the next few nights alone. A rather immature feeling, she thought, and one that was hardly practical in the situation she and Seven were in, both highly placed members of a crew on a starship trying to survive in the Delta Quadrant.

But still, she was going to miss Seven, and would no doubt count the minutes until her return.

Seven of Nine examined the relic Ensign Wildman offered her. It was of a deep jade material, hard, dense, with decorative markings on it which were worn to an almost imperceptible level. She searched her memories, tapping into the vast stores of knowledge her time with the Borg Collective afforded her.

"Does it help?" Samantha asked. She was a sturdy blond woman with level eyes, and a winning smile. Seven rarely interacted with her, knowing her a little better than others in the crew only because she was Naomi's mother ... and the fact that Jake had chewed up her boots.

"It does not," Seven said finally, and managed not to sigh. "Nothing the team has uncovered has indicated any species that the Borg is familiar with."

"Well, maybe the next artifact," Samantha said philosophically. The woman looked over the dusty, cleared area where the rest of Voyager's team was working. "In any event, this is a phenomenal find. This species was remarkably civilized, but the indication is that they died out suddenly. It could have been any number of things that destroyed them."

"It was not the Borg," Seven said.

Samantha looked at her strangely, then smiled. "I think these ruins predate the Borg," she said. "However, it is interesting that of all the species the Borg has assimilated in this quadrant, none have any recollection of this one."

"If they died out before achieving space travel, there is no reason to know of them," Seven pointed out.

"True," Samantha agreed. She regarded Seven for a few more minutes out of the corner of her eyes, obviously ill at ease but not leaving to return to her duties. "Naomi seems a lot more cheerful since you and the captain arranged for her and Jake to get together on a regular basis," she offered finally. Seven realized that Wildman was as uncomfortable with her as the Borg was with the science officer. This was 'small talk' she knew.

"I regret that she was upset at any time," Seven replied. "That was never my intention when I asked Neelix to take care of Jake."

"I know," Samantha said. "Kids and dogs just manage to find each other." She paused, concentrating on the dig. "Seven, I wanted to tell you," she added in a quieter voice. "I was a trifle ... apprehensive when you and Naomi began your relationship, but you've been very good for her. It's hard for a little girl to grow up on a ship where she is the only child. I wanted to thank you for your kindness."

Seven considered this. "It was not a 'kindness' on my part," she said honestly. "I like Naomi. She is very intelligent, and I comprehend her ... 'loneliness'. "

Wildman glanced at her. "I suppose you do," she said in an oddly gentle voice. "Do you and the captain intend to ... " She stopped, flustered. "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous."

Seven blinked. "What is?" she asked.

Samantha studied her boots. "I was wondering if you and the captain were intending to have children yourselves, sometime in the future, of course," she said.

Seven looked at her. "We have discussed it," she responded honestly. She hesitated. "However, that was before her injury. I do not believe she remembers the conversations. However, I do wish to have children one day."

Samantha smiled. "Well, if your relationship with Naomi is any indication," she said. "You'll make a fine mother."

Seven felt pleased at the assessment. Since Ensign Wildman was the only mother she knew, her opinion somehow carried more weight in that area, even more than Kathryn's, she discovered.

"Thank you," she said. There was a chirp on her comm badge and she touched it, activating the channel. "Go ahead."

"Chakotay here," the first officer's voice said. "We're finishing up the final supply shipments, Seven. You might want to begin shutting down the dig."

"Understood, Commander," Seven said. "We will contact you when it is time for us to beam up."

She glanced at Samantha, surprised when the woman grinned at her. "Is something amusing, Ensign?" she asked.

Wildman swallowed her grin. "I'm just interested in seeing how you'll get the team off the dig," she said. "Somehow, I'm not surprised that Chakotay handed that job to you."

Seven did not understand. At least not then. Several hours later, after arguing futilely with the lead archaeologist, she understood a great deal better. At first, they had flatly refused to leave at all. Then, she finally managed to get them down to a month which she agreed to ask the captain about, though she knew Janeway would be completely opposed to it.

Still wondering how she had been talked into such a ridiculous request, Seven keyed her comm badge. "Seven to Voyager."

"Go ahead," Chakotay answered immediately. Seven realized uneasily that his team must have already beamed back on board long ago.

"I need to speak with the captain," she said.

"I'm here, Seven," the beloved voice responded. "What is it?"

"The archaeology team has requested an additional month for their research," Seven said reluctantly. She wondered if Janeway would be angry. Instead, however, the captain's voice was laden with amusement.

"Only a month? I am impressed, Seven," Janeway said. "I was expecting at least a year. Tell Dr. Jamison that he and his team have one hour to pick up the stuff they simply can't leave behind, then I'm beaming up everyone the ship can detect."

Seven got the idea that there was something going on here that she was unaware of. "I will comply," she agreed with a certain amount of disgruntlement.

She conveyed the message to the team leader, and after a limited amount of blustering and a rather offensive reference to the captain's lack of intelligence and appreciation for the importance of scientific discovery, he and his team did as they were told. In exactly one hour, Seven felt herself dematerialize in a burst of sparkles before the confines of transporter room two appeared before her. She left the archaeological team behind with a definite sense of relief as they argued happily over their assorted boxes and containers, which would hopefully keep them occupied for months. Returning to the Astrometrics lab, she filled out her mission report in more familiar surroundings, hoping she would not be required to pull away mission duty again in the near future.

It was a difficult report to write, and she found herself changing it several times, adding things here and there, removing others which at first she found relevant but later seemed unimportant. Finally, she filed it, logged formally off duty, then headed for her quarters, realizing only as she entered how late it was. Jake did not even rise from his position on the couch, though he did lift his head and wag his tail briefly. She made him get down and go to his doggy bed, which he did with every indication of disbelief and outrage; a futile gesture on her part since she knew that he would be immediately back on the couch as soon as she went to bed.

She paused for a moment in the doorway leading to the bedroom, looking at the huddled form of the captain who was curled up on her side of the bed. Seven leaned against the doorframe, drinking in the way the auburn hair fell softly about the elegant cheek, the delicate shadows of the eyelashes against the porcelain skin. Seven remembered how it had been just after Janeway's injury, when she had been sleeping on the couch, when everything seemed so wrong and she had felt so helpless. She would return to their quarters late and stand here, watching the captain sleep, feeling an ache inside her that she thought she would never be able to survive.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming to bed?" Janeway's husky voice asked softly, the captain not opening her eyes. Startled, Seven felt her heart catch.

"I did not know you were awake," she said softly as she went into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Janeway who stretched and rolled onto her back, blinking sleepily. Seven's enhanced night vision allowed her to see Janeway quite clearly in the lowered illumination. She did not think the captain could see her at all, yet those blue-grey eyes were fastened directly on the Borg's face. "Can you see me?" she added curiously.

Janeway smiled as the computer, on hearing the audible conversation in the room, automatically brought the lights up to a comfortable setting for human visibility, not too bright, rather like a single, low wattage lamp. "I don't need to see you," the captain said lazily. "I know when you're around. You used to stand there and look at me a lot just after I was hurt."

Seven took a deep breath. "I did not realize," she said. "You were awake every time?"

"Maybe not every time, but certainly enough to know you were watching over me," Janeway replied gently. She reached up and ran her knuckles along Seven's cheek. "It was a rough time for both of us, darling, but it made me feel warm and safe knowing you were there."

"If I had known ..." Seven trailed off uncertainly.

"You would have joined me?" Janeway asked. "Or would you have stopped watching me?"

Seven considered it. "I think, the latter," she admitted.

"So now you know why I never let on I was awake," Janeway said dryly.

Seven did not know what to say, or for that matter what to feel exactly. That time had been so difficult for her, as if it would never end, that there was nothing beyond the confusion and pain she had felt. She bent her head and felt Kathryn's hand reach around her neck, squeezing gently.

"Come to bed, love," the captain requested softly. "It's been a long day."

"I shall," Seven agreed.

She stood up and went into the ensuite, taking time to shower quickly to rid herself of any lingering remains of the dig, then she brushed out her hair and cleaned her teeth. When she returned to the bedroom, the lights had once more lowered, leaving only the faint glow of starlight coming in through the window at the head of the bed as she slipped between the sheets, carefully wrapping herself around the recumbent form.

It was warm here, the captain's body heat a welcome change from the cold sleeping bag Seven had been using the past few nights in a solitary habitat on the planet's surface. She snuggled against Janeway's back, delighting in how the smooth skin and spine felt against her breasts and abdomen, the way the soft buttocks fit snugly into her groin.

Janeway stirred briefly and found Seven's hand, bringing it up to her breast so that the palm rested warmly over it. However, she went no further, and the nipple did not respond beneath Seven's light touch so the young woman knew it had been an entirely unconscious gesture on the captain's part, Janeway having fallen asleep while Seven had been in the bathroom.

Seven smiled briefly as she buried her face in the auburn hair, tucking her knees up under Kathryn's, spooning against her in one of her most favorite positions. Finally, she allowed herself to follow her partner into slumber, knowing that tomorrow was another day.

And that best of all, she was home.

Janeway woke sometime in the night, feeling the warmth of her lover surrounding her, the delicate pressure of Seven's palm on her breast. Her nipple hardened, and she pushed into the grasp which tightened automatically around it, squeezing gently. She sighed softly and snuggled back, pleased that Seven was home. It had been a difficult week for the captain, and she had found the cold and lonely expanse of sheets every time she went to bed almost unbearable. To wake up like this, wrapped up in loving arms, the soft breath on the back of her neck, was pure and absolute heaven.

"Mmm, darling, are you awake?" she whispered, reaching her hand back to stroke the younger woman's hip.

"I am," Seven replied softly, her lips nuzzling Janeway's neck, finding her ear which she nibbled gently. She rasped her palm gently back and forth, stimulating the nipple which ached with acute sensitivity.

Janeway caught her breath, feeling Seven's hand  roam from breast to breast, gently rolling the points between her forefinger and thumb. Seven's lips sought her out in the dark, the captain turning her head so that Seven could kiss her, gently, deeply; warm moist kisses that moved over her mouth with sweet intensity, and she reached back with her hand to touch the young woman's cheek.

"Have I ever told you how much I love waking up in your arms?" Janeway murmured, her head falling forward as Seven went back to mouthing the back of her neck, along the line of her shoulders before running up the line of throat to her earlobe.  Janeway loved the sound of her lover's deep breathing whispering into her ear. "Even when we weren't making love, it was so good to be able to reach out and feel your body next to mine."

"I enjoy waking up with you, as well," Seven told her in a low voice.

"Mmm, I'm glad, because this is exactly where you belong," Janeway whispered.

Seven's caresses slowed, gentled, became almost lazy as her hand explored Janeway's body, slipping down to the abdomen, stroking gently over her belly before sliding back up to renew its devotion to the captain's breasts. She seemed to sense that Janeway needed tenderness rather than passion this night, and the captain wondered how a Borg, without any emotional context growing up in the Collective, had ever evolved into such a sensitive and considerate lover. In fact, that was the thing Janeway thought she liked most about Seven's lovemaking, the incredible gentleness that communicated itself in every encounter, no matter how passionate they both got.

She reached up and linked her fingers with Seven's left hand which was resting by the captain's face, the Borg's arm supporting the captain's head, and Janeway squeezed the mesh lightly.

"I missed you," she whispered. "It seemed like you would never return to me."

"I missed you," Seven responded softly. She ran her tongue over the captain's ear, and Janeway inhaled sharply at the delicate touch. "I shall always return to you." A promise uttered with such conviction, it might as well be set in stone.

Seven ran her hand down Janeway's stomach, teasing the navel with light fingertips, stopping as the captain squirmed under her touch, apparently knowing that her lover was ticklish there, and how much she could take before the mood was broken. Swallowing hard as the fingers danced lower, tangling briefly in the thatch of auburn, Janeway pushed her buttocks back into Seven's groin, clutching at her hand spastically.

"Easy, Kathryn," Seven said softly, waiting until Janeway had relaxed a little. "There is no hurry."

"Try lying here and saying that," Janeway responded, laughter threading her voice. She sensed rather than actually felt Seven's brief smile against her cheek.

Seven's hand drifted lower, over the tops of the captain's thighs, then pressed between, parting them gently, raising her leg up so that it was almost at right angles. Janeway's heart pounded in her chest as the fingertips moved lightly over the inside of her thigh, and she moaned deep in her chest, feeling the warm touch slide easily along her tender labia, slipping into the moisture welling from her center. She gasped as Seven found the sensitive nodule, and slowly fondled it, sending chills through Janeway's loins and lower abdomen.

"Oh god, Annika," Janeway breathed as Seven kissed her jaw, her throat, the long lanky warmth of that tall body pressing against her back. "I love you so much."

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven whispered huskily. "Always and forever."

"Oh ... darling," Janeway began, then bit off a cry as she felt the long fingers penetrate her, sliding deep inside, a gentle probe of pleasure and desire. "Oh ... Annika ... god ... "

She fought for breath, her hips moving softly against the hand which was giving her such delight, clasping tight around the gently stroking digits while Seven's palm rubbed back and forth over the sensitive nubbin, pressing against it. Seven's hips moved with hers with easy rhythm, cradling her from behind, and she moaned into the night as the Borg's long fingers found the spot inside Janeway which cast all coherent thought out of the captain's head, sending her into a gentle spasm that left her fulfilled and completely relaxed.

She sighed and settled back against the mattress, reaching down to cover Seven's hand with her own, keeping the Borg's fingers still inside her for long moments just so she could enjoy the sensation. Seven remained quiet, kissing her without demand, allowing Janeway to simply experience the afterglow, the sense of peace and love that surrounded her.

"Mmm, my darling," she said finally, releasing her hold so that Seven's fingers could withdraw slowly. She captured them in her own hand and brought them up to her face, kissing the tips gently, tasting the musky flavor of herself which was far more piquant than Seven's was. "You are simply amazing."

"You inspire me," Seven said with gentle humor.

Janeway smiled. "I am certainly glad of that," she asked, her voice a husky purr of satisfaction. Seven's body curled around hers was like a blessing, a comforting shield against the cold universe.  "I would hate to think anyone else would."

"No one could," Seven replied sincerely.

"You are," the captain noted, "the most incredible lover of all time."

"I believe," Seven said dryly at this point. "That you exaggerate greatly."

"Perhaps," Janeway told her with a laugh, rolling over so that she could lie on her back, looking up at Seven though she was unable to see much in the low light. "But not by much." She found her partner's mouth, kissing her gently but with passion, feeling Seven's tongue move against her own sweetly. "Tell me what you want, love," she said softly when they had parted. "How can I pleasure you tonight, my darling?"

"Will you scratch my back?"

Surprised, Janeway drew back, staring at her in the darkness, barely able to make out the lighter area which was Seven's face, let alone recognize any expression that might be on it. "Scratch your back?" she echoed in disbelief. She felt Seven's flinch and she suddenly felt bad, hugging Seven closer in mute apology. "Scratch your back?" she repeated, altering the tone to a gentler one of inquiry.

"It has been so long since you have done that," Seven said in a soft, uncertain voice. "Sometimes that is all I want."

"My love, if that's what you want, I will scratch your back until morning,"  Janeway said promptly.

"I do not think it will take so long," Seven corrected in a relieved sort of tone. Her arms tightened around Janeway as she kissed her. "I do love you," she added intently. "I am just not..."

"Shh," Janeway said, placing her fingertips against the full lips. "I know, sometimes you just need different things at different times. Thank you for making love to me, darling. I didn't even think to ask if you were in the mood."

"I am always 'in the mood' to make love to you, Kathryn," Seven said somberly. "Please, never doubt that. However, I do not always require that you make love to me." She hesitated again and Janeway knew she was having difficulty presenting her thoughts. "This does not mean that I do not want you ..."

The captain kissed her sweetly. "I understand, darling," she assured her lovingly. "It's alright. Sometimes I want different things too, but please, even if I seem uninterested, tell me if you ever want me to make love to you. I need to know so that we can at least discuss it."

"You do?" Seven sounded surprised.

Janeway sighed. "Have I given the impression otherwise, darling?" she asked regretfully. "Annika, we're partners. We're there for each other. In fact, I want you to know how much it means to me that you trust me enough to be honest with me tonight."

Seven was quiet for a long time. "I feel like I can now," she admitted finally. "I was never ... dishonest with you before, but sometimes I did not always feel like you wanted to hear what I needed."

Janeway hugged her. "Darling, I can't say what I was thinking before I lost my memories," she said quietly. "Yet, I have to believe I always wanted to know what you needed. Maybe I just didn't get that across to you, however. I fear communication has not always been my best asset."

"I should have told you what I needed," Seven said unhappily.

Janeway sighed. "Darling, there's no question we made mistakes the first time around," she said. "We'll probably make a set of all new ones now. Let's just be happy we have this second chance at love, and remember we can always talk to each other about everything."

"I will try," Seven said gravely.

Janeway smiled and nuzzled her. "Now, why don't you lay on your belly," she murmured. "I'll give you a fully guaranteed, 100 percent authentic Starfleet-issued back scratch, provided by a starship captain, no less. Not just anyone is entitled to one of those, you know."

Janeway could sense the wonderful rare smile radiate from the young woman, and obediently Seven rolled over onto her stomach. Janeway got up and straddled her hips, giving her full attention to the young woman as she scratched the long sinuous back, alternating with smooth, strong strokes along the spine and sides and short, brisk ones over the shoulders, making sure she discovered every spot that required it. Seven squirmed luxuriously beneath her, soft, happy sounds of delight issuing from her lips.

"You really do enjoy this, don't you?" Janeway murmured softly, smiling.

"It feels so good," Seven responded, voice muffled in the pillow. "It is not something you could do when I still had my implant. When it was temporarily restored, I believe I missed this more than anything else. We could still make love, but you could not scratch through the mesh with any success."

Janeway leaned down and kissed Seven's ear. "Then I'm glad I can do it for you, now," she told her lovingly. "Any time you want, darling."

Eventually, she lessened the pressure on her nails, changing the scratching to a gentle massage that soothed the Borg into sleep. Smiling fondly, she kissed the young woman on the shoulder blade, then snuggled against her lover's back and followed her into slumber.

Seven woke before Janeway, and with a joyful sort of stealthiness, she slipped from the bed and pulled on her robe, tiptoing into the outer quarters. She fed Jake, then made up a tray of all of Kathryn's favorite breakfast items, recklessly spending her replicator rations in one shot. She took the tray into the bedroom, and placed it on the night stand before leaning down to kiss Kathryn gently on the mouth.

The captain stirred, opening her eyes sleepily. She smiled as she saw her partner bent over her. "Good morning," she said with a languid smile.

"Good morning," Seven responded. "I made you 'breakfast in bed'."

Kathryn got that soft look, the one Seven so adored, of shy pleasure showing she was genuinely touched. "You didn't have to do that," she said.

"I know," Seven replied. "I wanted to."

As the captain sat up, piling the pillows at the head of the bed so she could recline against them, Seven picked up the tray and placed it on her partner's lap. Janeway removed the lids, looking at the feast with surprise, then looked at Seven. The Borg prepared herself to be scolded for spending her rations so carelessly, but Kathryn only smiled tremulously.

"Thank you darling," she said softly. "This is wonderful."

Vastly pleased with herself, Seven removed her robe, and slipped between the sheets once more, curling up beside Janeway to watch her eat. Kathryn kept feeding her bites, then finally insisted she go out with the captain's rations for another breakfast so that they could both enjoy a full meal, though it meant they would be at the mercy of Neelix's cooking for the rest of the day.

"You must tell me, darling," Janeway said as she chewed reflectively on her toast. "What did you say to Dr. Jamison to get him down to only wanting to stay a month?"

"I merely presented the logistics of them staying behind in a reasonable manner," Seven said with some confusion. "That not only would they probably perish, that there was no way any of their results would be published."

"Ah, the publishing card," Janeway mumbled. "Don't think many have tried that."

Seven eyed her a moment. "You are being facetious," she decided. She shook her head. "You expected him to be difficult as did Commander Chakotay. I do not understand."

"Different people are passionate about different things," Janeway explained. "Jamison is an alien archeologist trapped on a ship which has little time to research alien sites. Granting him a week was hardly enough time for him to really get into a dig. Everyone who knows him guessed that he would not be willing to leave it easily." The captain smiled at her and patted her arm. "You handled it very well, Seven. I'm proud of you."

"It was only an away mission," Seven said. "I still do not see why he was so adamant about not leaving."

"Imagine if I were the dig," Janeway said. "And you had only one week to spend with me before you had to leave me behind, never to see me again. That's how Jamison feels about his dig."

Seven stared at her, trying to absorb that concept. "That is not an accurate comparison," she said finally.

"No?" Janeway grinned at her lazily, sipping at her orange juice.

"No," Seven said firmly. "Nothing and no one would have been capable of making me leave you behind."

Janeway leaned forward, and kissed her gently. "Then, I guess you love me more than he does his career," she said.

"Yes," Seven agreed readily.

Janeway chuckled throatily, and finished the last bites of her omelet. "By the way, darling," she said casually. "I was looking for something while you were gone, and couldn't find it. Do you know where the necklace is that Daddy gave me? It's a small gold chain with a red stone on it."

Seven felt her heart give a painful thump, then sank deep within her, all the happiness she had been feeling only seconds before disappearing without a trace. Her blueberry waffle was suddenly as tasteless as cardboard in her mouth, and she dropped her fork onto the plate, shoving the tray aside without appetite. She bent her head, staring at the bedding.

"You gave the necklace to me as a gift," she said quietly.

"Oh," Janeway said. She sounded surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "I guess that's another thing I forgot. Where is it?"

"It is gone," Seven admitted. This next was the hardest part. The first time she had to tell Kathryn that she had lost the necklace, the captain had gone very quiet for a very long time. Seven remembered the starkness she saw in the blue-grey eyes, the terrible disappointment. Seven had hoped she would never have to feel that way again, but here she was, forced to repeat the same story. "I was wearing it when I was assimilated the second time," she said softly. She felt empty, lost. "I ... discarded it as being irrelevant when I became One of Many. It was destroyed when the cube was."

There was a silence, and Seven did not look up. She did not want to see that look in her partner's eyes again. It hurt too much.

"It was only a chain, Annika," Janeway said finally.

Seven shook her head. "No, it was a gift from your father to you," she said in a choked voice. "It was the first thing you ever gave me. I am so sorry I lost it, Kathryn. It was unforgivable." She blinked hard against the tears stinging her eyes.

"Hey," Janeway said, putting both trays on the floor and reaching out to place a finger beneath Seven's chin, raising her head up. "Darling, I'm sorry it's gone, but it's not the end of the world.  Why are you so upset?"

Unwillingly, Seven raised her eyes to meet Kathryn's, seeing only love and concern for her in them, and she was unable to hold back the tears she had not shed the first time, the knowledge that she had disappointed Kathryn, had lost something so precious to them both, a tearing pain inside.

"I am sorry," she sobbed.

"Come here," Janeway said, gathering her up in her arms, rocking her gently. "Oh, my love, it's all right. Annika, it's just a necklace.  Please, don't cry."

But Seven was unable to comply, unable to stop the weeping which she had not allowed herself the first time, and Janeway finally gave up trying to say anything to comfort her. She simply held her tightly, rubbing her back and nuzzling her lovingly. Finally, Seven was able to catch her breath, face buried in the warm hollow of Janeway's shoulder.

"You've been holding that in for a long time," Janeway guessed softly after a while. "I don't think it's entirely about the necklace, either."

Seven merely gulped and nodded. Janeway kissed her forehead gently, then brought her face up so that the young woman was looking into her eyes.

"Darling, if I ever made you feel like that piece of jewelry meant more to me than you did, then I'm the one who should be apologizing," she said sincerely. "Annika, I can lose everything I have, my command, my ship, the uniform off my back. As long as I have you, I have the entire universe. Don't ever doubt that."

Seven hugged her. "I shall not," she said softly. She paused, swallowing hard. "Thank you."

"Shh, don't thank me for loving you," Janeway said. "That's something I'm privileged to do." She kissed Seven gently. "I'm sorry, darling. I find myself discovering so many good times when I look to the past with you, but sometimes there are unfortunate situations I shouldn't put you through again. Perhaps I should stop trying to dig out memories that are no longer relevant."

"No," Seven responded, shaking her head. "You must do what you have to while adapting to the consequences of your injuries, Kathryn. I love you, and I want to share it all with you, no matter how difficult the various memories might be."

Janeway smiled. "They couldn't have been that bad," she said softly. "Not if you were part of them." She studied Seven's face for a long time, then grinned crookedly. "Now I'm a little afraid to ask you about what I did find while I was looking for the necklace."

Seven blinked, confused. "What?" she asked.

Janeway got a strange look on her face, then leaned over and opened a compartment in the night stand, bringing out a plain brown, rectangular box. Seven felt an odd sensation inside as the captain opened it up to display the contents cradled in velvet.

"Do you recognize this?" Janeway asked in a even tone, carefully devoid of expression.

Seven swallowed hard. "It is an 'accessory'," she said honestly.

"I see," Janeway said slowly. She regarded Seven closely. "Do we ... use it often?"

"We have never used it," Seven explained. "We were going to experiment with it, but ... you were injured before we had the opportunity."

"Oh," Janeway said. Her lips twitched as she glanced at it, then at Seven, then back at the realistic looking 'toy' lying in the box. "It's rather large."

"It can be fully adjusted," Seven said, and reached for it. "It is called the 'Wonder Wand 9000' which comes with a remote access. It's size can be increased or decreased, according to preference."

Holding it up as she would a club, she found the small remote control which fit snugly in her hand, making the proper alterations. The greyish phallus, as well as the simulated testicles, immediately shrank from the formidable seventy-five centemeter dimensions to a more modest eight centemeters, not only decreasing in length, but in girth. Seven presented the much reduced apparatus to Janeway who accepted it gingerly, dangling it between her forefinger and thumb, examining it with a keen eye from all angles.

"That's nifty," Janeway remarked in that same odd tone. "How does it work?"

Seven blinked. "You do not know?" she asked with a certain amount of disbelief. "It is intended to mimic humanoid male genitalia."

"That much I understand," Janeway admitted. She took a closer look. "I meant, how does one ... uh, wear it?"

"That end attaches to the person assuming the 'male' position," Seven said.

She took it from the captain and parted her legs, stretching out on the bed as she pressed the flat part of the accessory against the juncture of her thighs. An orifice opened, surrounded her protruding if somewhat limited ridge of flesh with a solid suction, while tendrils extended from the base of the phallus to surround her hips and legs, securing it firmly to her. Sensors inside began transmitting messages to the little nubbin, as if it were now an extension of her own body, giving Seven the appearance of boasting a fairly realistic representation of male genitalia in an aroused, if somewhat unimpressive state.

"It is structured to stimulate my nerve endings where it is attached," Seven added, leaning back on both elbows so that her groin was now in clear view.  "I understand it is supposed to provide the wielder with as much pleasure as the one who it is used on."

"Probably more, I'd say," Janeway said in a choked sort of tone, staring at Seven's loins as she chewed on her bottom lip. "Which should not surprise me. What else?"

"It vibrates," Seven said proudly. "As well as change color while displaying a variety of patterns. The 'tiger-striped' orange and black is particularly attractive, but I prefer the blue which glows in the dark." She touched the controls, demonstrating the function.

Janeway raised those eyes to Seven's, her lips a thin white line against a face growing dark with suppressed emotion. Uncomprehendingly, Seven stared back, starting abruptly when the captain suddenly burst into screaming fits of laughter, rolling about the bed, absolutely helpless as she held onto her ribs with her arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks and mucus ran from her nose as she gasped and choked and gurgled, unable to look directly at her partner for more than a few seconds before the mirth would take control of her again.

Seven thought Janeway was not adopting the proper attitude toward the situation at all.

The Borg regarded the small, electric-blue phallus thrusting up from her groin with a bit of sadness. Did this mean she would never get the chance to use it? Even it seemed to droop a little in disappointment, the eight centimeter protrusion developing a decided list to starboard.

"Oh god," Janeway begged between her howls of merriment. "Take it off."

Disgruntled, Seven pressed the proper controls on the remote, the tendrils obediently withdrawing as the the construct released itself from its grip on her. She placed the whole apparatus back in the box, shut it, then sat cross-legged as she regarded her partner with forced patience, waiting for her to stop laughing.

It took some time.

"Am I to infer that you are not interested in experimentation?" she said coolly, when Janeway had finally subsided, lying weakly on her side, gasping for breath.

Janeway snorted, but managed to contain herself with obvious effort. "No, that's not it at all," she replied. "However, Annika, you have to accept that there is a certain inherent humor in things like this."

"I was unaware you would find such a thing humorous," Seven noted.  "Originally you seemed concerned that it would hurt me."

"That's probably before I knew you could change the size," Janeway said.  "Or for that matter, the color."  She started to laugh again, and Seven sighed.  She raised an eyebrow as the captain eventually rose to her knees and crossed the bed, wrapping her arms around the Borg's neck, and pressing against her.  "Be sure to let me handle those settings from now on, all right?"

"Very well," Seven agreed.   "But I will be unable to perform with any adeptness if you insist on laughing every time I put it on."

Janeway swallowed hard, eyes bright.  "Sweetheart, I promise to restrain myself if you ever want to use it," she said with a sincerity that Seven thought was highly suspect.

However, she did not have time to argue the issue further, because Kathryn started kissing her quite thoroughly, her hands doing incredible things that made Seven forget all about toys or accessories or anything else for that matter. The box fell to the floor as they made love, the lid falling open as the accesory fell out onto the carpet.  Neither of them noticed its abscence at all.

Until much later when they found Jake chewing placidly on it in the living area.  Seven was concerned that it would no longer work with the array of distinct toothmarks imbedded all over it.

Janeway was laughing much too hard for her to offer her opinion.

Epilogue

Janeway strolled onto the bridge, noting that Tuvok had already arrived for his shift, and made a detour to his tactical station. "Tuvok," she greeted.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Captain?"

"Are you doing anything this evening?" she asked.

"No, Captain," he responded evenly.

"Come by for dinner tonight," she said. "Seven's going to try for plomeek soup. If you dare, of course."

He raised an eyebrow. "It could not be worse than the attempts made by Mr. Neelix," he allowed. "I shall be happy to attend, Captain."

"1900 hours," she said. She favored him with a smile, and strode down to her command chair. Chakotay looked at her curiously as she sat down.

"You seem unusually cheerful this morning," he noted.

"I had a very good off day," she responded evenly, managing to keep her lips from twitching. She glanced at him. "Seven assures me that the food replicators are being brought back to full function. We can up the ration slips to ten a day, and hopefully, in another week, we'll have unlimited access once more."

He grinned. "That is good news," he said.

She nodded. "We're fortunate that we had so many spare replicator components," she said. "I must make a note to commend both you and B'Elanna for choosing to be generous with those parts to the exclusion of others when you were stocking the Mississippi prior to your return from the Alpha Quadrant."

"We just figured that a lot of things in life are a great deal more tolerable when your belly is full," he said. "I learned that in the Maquis."

"It applies equally well in Starfleet," she said with a certain satisfaction. She leaned back in her chair. "I have to admit, I'll be glad to put the last of this whole affair behind us."

He nodded. "It was a tough couple of months," he agreed. He hesitated, glanced around at the bridge which was functioning with quiet efficiency and lowered his voice. "I know you and Seven were having a bit of a rough time there," he added. "How are things?"

She glanced at him in surprise, not only because he was asking while they were on duty, but that he would be interested at all. "Things are going very well with us," she said, nodding. She hesitated herself, then added, just to be polite, of course. "I understand you and B'Elanna are having problems?"

He shook his head, sighing a bit. "She really has to learn to control her temper," he said. "It caused a lot of trouble this time."

Janeway regarded the back of Tom Paris's head idly. "It seems to me, that it was Lt. James who caused the problems. B'Elanna was being who she always was." She paused. "Perhaps you should re-evaluate what it was that attracted you to her in the first place. In the meantime, I'll be in my ready room," she added, gathering up her thermos and favoring him with an impertinent eyebrow.

He looked thoughtful as she left him and went into her ready room. As she poured herself a cup of coffee, she assured herself that he had started the conversation. That what she had said could, in no way, be considered 'interfering' in any manner. He had simply asked for her opinion on his love life and she had given it. End of story.

He had asked for her opinion, hadn't he?

Smiling, she sat down at her desk and called up her departmental reports, feeling an unmistakable sensation in her bones that the ship was starting to assume a more comfortable rhythm, that the events of the last month or so had finally dissipated.  Granted, deep wounds had been inflicted, yes, but they were now healing as the entity that was Voyager and her crew slowly returned to normal.

With Seven at her side, whatever lay ahead would be completely manageable, which was really, all she could ask for out here in the Delta Quadrant.

The End

•  This is the 12th in the Just Between series.

• To all my readers, a heartfelt thank you for all your kind comments, encouragement and plot lines.

• This is dedicated to a reader who wanted to see Seven 'cut loose' and I kept promising, "Uh, not this story, but definitely next."  Of course, that was four or five stories ago.  But here it finally is and I hope it was what the reader was looking for.

• Be aware, this is a little more brutal than I normally write. The story line just required it in this instance.

• This story was written and posted towards the latter part of December, 1998, after the events in Nothing Human.
Just Between Species
G. L. Dartt

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager rolled over on the filthy metal deck and tried not to vomit. Grasping her arms tightly over aching ribs, she crawled to the nearest wall and put her back to it, glancing around warily. Her face was bruised, lips split and she was forced to spit out blood along with a molar she could ill afford to lose.

Damn, she thought. At least, I kept my uniform.

The emptied food tray lay discarded on the deck a few feet away and she noticed that there were a few remains left stuck to it. Ignoring the dirt, she snatched it up eagerly and licked the fragments off, doing little to assuage her gnawing hunger but just maybe acquiring one or two nutrients that might keep her alive a little longer. Once it was clean, she tossed it aside, feeling it disintegrate even as she did so, the soft metal trays lasting only an hour before they dissipated into useless goo.

She staggered to her feet and looked around, wanting nothing more than to find some place where she could remain unobserved, away from the roving bands of alien prisoners whose main purpose for existing seemed to be preying on the loners.

Loner. That's what she was, an individual representation of her species, dumped here without the protection of a larger group of Humans and unlikely to get any considering she was some 40,000 light years away from the Federation and Earth. And having no idea where her ship was, or her crew or even where here was exactly. All she knew was that she had been imprisoned, charged with interference of the local police force, tried and convicted in a hasty trial which barely took an hour. She had been unable to contact Voyager or any of the rest of the away teams who had been on the planet, and then was drugged and transported here to some sort of maximum security prison contained deep within an asteroid in the heart of what they called the Xenth Belt.

Every prisoner was entitled to three trays of food a day but getting to a dispenser and keeping the food after it materialized was an ongoing battle. Various groupings of alien species lurked in the immediate vicinity of the devices and would surround any loner, taking the food as well as anything else that might be valuable. So far, she had been lucky, her Starfleet conditioning able to keep her alive even though she hadn't managed to grab more than a few mouthfuls of food in over four days. This last encounter had been bad, the group numbering five and she had barely been able to protect herself from the beating they administered, needing all her self defense training to make it too costly for them to try for her clothes or anything beyond the food tray. The next time, she knew they would probably be more aggressive because she would be correspondingly less able to fight back.

Her diplomacy skills were of absolute no use, of course. Universal translators did not work here and the individual species could not or would not find a common language with which to communicate. Nor did any seem interested in pausing in their own fight for survival to listen to any of her abortive attempts at negotiation.

And why would they? Here, power was measured in the strength of one's arm and in the numbers of those arms. She didn't have any numbers to back her up and her arms were skilled but not particularly strong.

She limped into the shadows of a dank corridor, judging it to be empty and found an obscure corner in which to sit. She didn't dare sleep and the chill air made hypothermia a very real threat. She would have to move again in a little while, never staying in one place, avoiding everyone, aware that members of that species could be lurking just out of sight. That lesson was the first she had learned here.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them tightly, trying not to shiver. She was growing progressively weaker, she knew. There was a good chance she wouldn't make it past the next few days and it was sheer Midwestern cussedness keeping her going at this point. She refused to give up, to curl up and die though so many had, even in the short time she had been here. Overcrowding did not seem to be a problem in this prison.

She noticed a sign above and across from her, unable to read it. All the markings throughout the installation were in some unknown alien language and what little she had learned, how food was dispensed and how unlikely it was she would keep any, was from pure observation and the three separate beatings she had sustained. Twelve distinct alien groupings held sway over this bottom level, comprised of five members each as well as several three and four member groups, all vying for supremacy in an environment which did not comprehend the concept of cooperation or cross-species understanding. That did not comprehend the very principles that Starfleet and the Federation was based on. She could only hope that by staying on the move, she could somehow leave this level and be free of their oppression.

On the other hand, that would only put her up into the next level which would be even more dangerous, held by more powerful species with greater numbers. Here, the small groups kept her alive if battered so she would be entitled to her tray which they could then steal. In another sector, they might just kill her out of hand, not needing her pitiful ration and resenting her trespassing.

She brought her head up with a jerk, realizing that she had almost dozed off. That would be a fatal mistake. Along with the various groupings of prisoners, there were less intelligent creatures roaming the endless corridors, vicious rat-like scavengers she had tagged 'breen' which would fall on a supine prisoner in a moment, not fussy about whether their meal was entirely dead or not.

Here, being independent was very bad for one's health.

She shivered again and knew she had to get moving. Using the wall as a brace, she slowly got to her feet and stumbled out into the outer hall where the lights burned dimly with an uncomfortable radiance, giving no indication of the passage of time in these endless subterranean corridors.  Trying not to think about how futile it all was or that sooner or later, she would have to give up, would have to surrender to lack of sleep or lack of food.

Would have to surrender to the inevitable death that awaited her.

Seven of Nine, formerly Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01 in the Borg Collective, now the Astrometrics officer for USS Voyager regarded the short stocky alien with distaste. She was standing in a small shop which was set off from the main marketplace; a cluttered, stuffy room filled with knickknacks and items that a less charitable person might refer to as pure, unnecessary trash. The only useful thing in the whole place was the item she held in her hand. An item she knew did not belong here.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, holding up the jade relic with the faint alien markings on its surface.

"From a trader who passes through here only once every ten years," he said oily, his hands spread in an emphatic gesture. "He found it in the forbidden swamps of Goethe, fighting the deadly tristanks to acquire but a mere artifact of the fabulous ruins hidden there."

She stared at him. "That is incorrect," she said flatly. "This item was discovered by a member of our crew on a planet three light years from here. Our captain was comparing this to artifacts which were found in this market just before she disappeared. Again, I ask, where did you get it?"

The alien's features underwent an immediate shift, from smug salesman to infuriated alien.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," he growled, trying to shove her to door.

She did not budge.

"Answer my question and I shall not trouble you any longer," she said reasonably.

He snarled suddenly and reached behind the counter, whipping out a fairly respectable dagger with a keen edge which he used to swipe at Seven.

The Borg caught his wrist easily in her left hand and exerted a slight pressure. Bones cracked audibly and he screamed, the dagger falling from his hand as he slumped to his knees.

"Where did you get it?" she asked, her voice not altering.

"I bought it from Werris, okay," he hissed through lips that were narrow bands of pain. "He said he picked it up from the ground after an alien was arrested by the Guardians."

"Where?"

"I don't know," he spat.

She squeezed. "Try to remember," she suggested evenly.

He howled and turned even paler. "Five streets over, in the black market district," he said, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. "There was a scuffle and the alien tried to interfere with a lawful arrest of a merchant. They killed her companion before taking her."

Seven's breath caught. "Taking her where?"

"I don't know."

"Speculate," she requested, squeezing again.

"The prison," he gasped. "Xenth Penitentiary."

"And where can I find this place?"

"You can't," he said. "Only the Guardians know how to get to it. And no one ever escapes."

Seven's head tilted slightly. "Thank you," she said politely, and squeezed until he mercifully passed out.

She dropped him onto the floor and left the shop, eyes cold chips of ice as she went out into the heat of the street. A smaller woman stood at the end of the alley, dark haired with pronounced ridges on her forehead, obviously keeping watch. She glanced up as Seven joined her, raising an eyebrow speculatively.

"Did he know?" she asked. "Or do I get to talk to the next one?"

"He knew," Seven said shortly. "You were correct, B'Elanna. Klingon methods are a great deal more efficient in gathering information than traditional Starfleet protocols."

"You bet," Lt. Torres, Voyager's chief engineer, agreed. "Just remember not to mention it to anyone, particularly Chakotay." She touched her comm badge which was affixed to the left breast of her black and gold uniform. "Torres to Voyager. Two to beam up."

Fifteen minutes later, Seven and Torres were in the starship's conference room, informing Commander Chakotay and Lt. Commander Tuvok of their findings. Also present were the two lieutenants, Tom Paris and Harry Kim who had also been on the planet gathering information. In the other chairs, Neelix, the Delta Quadrant native, and the holographic Doctor had made up the third away team. Everyone was displaying expressions of great concern. The information they presented was not encouraging.

"We have to get her out of this prison," Tom said, his boyish face drawn in the conference room lights. He frowned as he leaned forward, his light blue eyes shadowed and unusually serious beneath his fair hair.

"We do not know where the prison is," Tuvok noted logically.

Seven knew that although the Vulcan Security chief's voice was cold and his dark skinned features displayed total impassiveness to the room, he was as worried as everyone else about the captain. Everyone, but Seven. She was beyond worried. She had moved into a state which she could not seem to identify.

"We must not give up," she insisted.

"Even if we do manage to find its exact location, it's supposedly surrounded by the best security devices the Barellans have to offer," Chakotay said, his dark eyes trying to convey compassion as well as authority. "Breaking in to rescue one prisoner would be suicide, even if we knew where she was in the installation itself."

It was clear he didn't like saying this and in normal circumstances, he might have been arguing the other side. But now he was acting captain, his responsibilities to the ship and its crew increased immeasurably. He had to act as the captain would ... as Janeway would. Seven knew that no matter how much it hurt, Janeway would not hesitate to sacrifice one person for the good of the many. She would avoid it where she could, do her best to find a way to get around it, but if push came to shove, no one member of the crew could be more important than the well being of the ship itself. Not even when she was the one in question.  Especially if she was the one in question. Chakotay was expected to act the same way.

Of course, Seven did not agree with the concept at all. To her, Kathryn Janeway was the only one that mattered and if saving her meant that both Voyager and every crewmember had to be spent in the process including herself, she'd do it in a heartbeat. Which was probably why she would never be captain, she noted idly.

"We might be able to sneak close enough to beam her out through any shields," Harry noted. "We can enhance the sensors to get a skeletal lock through her comm badge and use a Borg modulation on the transporter to enhance the pattern buffer."

"But we still have to find the prison first," Tom objected. "Maybe we can scan for it somehow using the long range sensors. It must put out some sort of energy signal."

"Inefficient," Seven said.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow, his Vulcanoid features angling toward her.

"Do you have a suggestion, Seven?" he asked. Aside from B'Elanna, he probably knew her better than anyone.

"I will be arrested and taken there. Voyager can trace a specified energy signal from my Borg implants, which will lead us to the prison," Seven said. "Once inside, I can find the captain and get her to a spot where we can be beamed out."

"Waitaminute," Chakotay said, holding up his hands. "What's with all this 'I' stuff? What makes you think I'll allow this?"

"You cannot stop me," she said with unmovable determination.

Tuvok leaned forward. "It is a logical plan," he said calmly. "And one that can be implemented on short notice. If what we know of the conditions of the prison are accurate, then time is of the essence. However, I think I should be the one to go in."

Seven stared at him as B'Elanna snorted. "If anyone's going in," the Klingon said. "It should be me. Any place as brutal as that, it makes sense that I'm one of the few who can survive there."

Seven lowered her head. "I am returning to the planet in order to facilitate my arrest," she said, disregarding the offers even as she was warmed by them. "I will not leave Kathryn alone any longer."

"What if we send all three down there?" Harry said. "One's bound to find the captain. Plus, there's safety in numbers."

Chakotay looked unconvinced. "That's assuming I'm going to risk three lives for the sake of one," he said. "The captain would never agree to that and I don't see where I can either."

"Do you have another suggestion?" B'Elanna asked challengingly. "Or do we just leave her there and go about our merry way?"

Chakotay stared at her, frowning, then seemed to relax suddenly.

"We're not leaving her there," he said positively. "As Tuvok says, time is of the essence. But we also have to be aware of the fact that the captain might no longer be alive."

"She is still alive," Seven said. She was convinced of that. To think anything else would mean that she would have to stop functioning. Immediately.

Chakotay nodded, then looked at Tuvok and B'Elanna "We're only going to risk one crewmember in this. And we'll only make the one attempt," he said. "The captain wouldn't tolerate any more and the truth is, if this shot doesn't work, it's all moot anyway." He glanced over at the Doctor. The Emergency Medical Hologram was looking considerably disgruntled by all this but was not about to interfere. "Doctor, you and Lt. Torres work together to find a way to adjust Seven's implants to emit a signal that we can trace but no one else can detect. You have one hour."

"Understood," he said. The Doctor glanced at Seven. "What exactly do you plan to do to get arrested, anyway?"

Seven regarded him. "It will not be difficult," she said. "I shall simply return to the planet and interfere with a Guardian. They do not seem to like that much."

Janeway opened her eyes, feeling pain throb through her head. With an effort that required a great deal of concentration, she touched the back of her skull gingerly, bringing her hand away sticky with blood. She hadn't even seen the blow, just felt the impact which had sent her into a deep dark pit which she had only now pulled herself out of.

She swallowed, gagging on her own saliva and tried to get to her knees. She couldn't afford too many of those kind of hits, she thought dazedly. A recent injury on Voyager had cost her most of her memories stretching back almost three years. It had taken her months to heal, to regain some measure of her own history as provided by the ship's logs, both mission based and the personal ones. She would hate to lose the few fragments she had so painstakingly acquired to a casual blow to the head.

She noted that her uniform jacket was gone, leaving only the thin, high-necked t-shirt covering her torso. The planet had boasted a very warm, sticky climate and she had gone without the long sleeved sweater that normally went under the black and red tunic. She regretted that now. Dirt and grime streaked her bare arms and she winced at what had to be broken bones in her left wrist. Cradling the injured appendage gingerly in her other hand, she tried to rise to her feet, grateful that for whatever reason, she still had her boots and trousers. Her attackers had apparently not needed them, but since they had been covered in thick fur from the waist down, their feet ending in cloven hoofs, she supposed that was mere happenstance. Otherwise, she probably would have been left naked to the chill air.

She staggered briefly across the corridor, slamming into the wall and for a second she leaned there, sobbing for breath.

This is so hard, she thought. Why do I keep trying?

Unbidden, a face swam into her mind, rising from her subconscious like a beacon. Glorious blonde hair and ice blue eyes with love radiating from every perfect pore of smooth, silky skin. Janeway could almost see the full lips move, framing each word.

Do not give up. Do not give up on me. Do not give up on yourself.

There was no reason to believe she should listen to that, no reason to think anyone was coming for her, would help her. No reason to think they even knew where she was. Yet despite all that, a small flame flickered within, a tiny belief that she could not surrender. Not yet. Not until the last breath left her body.

Multicolored lights swam before her eyes as she tottered onward, no destination in mind, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, refusing to go down.

Refusing to be defeated.

Seven of Nine sat erect on the bench lining one side of the stripped down shuttle. Pain radiated from her left temple and ribs where the Guardians had 'subdued' her during her capture and subsequent trial. Since she had not resisted in the slightest, it had seemed an unnecessary expenditure of energy but for whatever reason, it had seemed to cheer the black clad law enforcers tremendously so she supposed it had served some purpose.

She glanced around the small vessel. It was painted a dirty grey and had no indication of any exit other than the one guarded by two Guardians standing sentinel at one end. She was the only prisoner on this run and she wondered if they were making a special trip just for her. It had only taken a few hours after disguising herself and beaming down to another area of the planet so as not to alert the authorities that the alien picked up bore any relationship to the alien which had been taken four days earlier that she found a group of Guardians and struck several of them in rapid succession. They obligingly arrested her, after getting a little bit of their own back in the process and she had been impressed by the swiftness of the Barellan justice system which tried and convicted her all in the space of another hour. Certainly it was much faster and far more efficient than a Starfleet court marital.

She felt the eyes of one of the Barellan guards on her and she looked at him. He shifted the toothpick around in his mouth and grinned with jagged teeth.

"So what the hell are you supposed to be?" he asked conversationally.

"I am Borg," she said evenly.

"Never had your kind before," he said.

She raised her eyebrow. She suspected not. Otherwise, this entire sector would now be part of the Collective.

Barellan was a remote stretch of space, far off the beaten track of the rest of the Delta Quadrant. A faint trace of tachyon particles on Voyager's long range sensors had raised the possibility of a wormhole, a strong enough possibility that they had diverted from their course to the Alpha Quadrant and followed the lure of the signal to this isolated group of systems which were surrounded by a band of disguising dust particles imitating a class two nebula. As it turned out, the tachyon signal came from an unusual dwarf star set in the middle of the systems and Voyager was forced to swallow yet another disappointment. The other stars nearby boasted a variety of inhabited, space going civilizations united in a roughshod union held together by mutual greed and distrust. Voyager, however, was short of supplies so they had taken the opportunity to pick up more, sending down an away team to barter in the local market of the most populous planet, Barella.

One of the initial away team had seen items in the market which had appeared similar to artifacts they had picked up a month earlier on another planet and made a point of informing the captain. Janeway had been intrigued enough to beam down herself with a few of those fragments to make the comparison. That's when she disappeared while her security escort, Ensign Canexel had been killed. The Barellan authorities were remarkably uncooperative, indicating that lost aliens were not anything they were responsible for. They had not even bothered to mention that she seemed to have been arrested by some of their own law enforcement agents.

"And since we don't have any other 'Borg', you'll be a 'loner'," the Guardian added, seeming quite pleased by the thought.

There was enough emphases on the last word to pique Seven's interest. "Explain," Seven remarked.

"Loners are what we throw to the lower populace to keep them busy," the garrulous guard said. "The only way to survive down there is to find others of your own kind. That's out of the question for you."

Seven did not point out that as a Borg who still maintained functional assimilation tubules, she could make the entire prison population 'her kind' if she so desired. As could any Borg drone, ex or otherwise. Perhaps these beings were too unintelligent to be assimilated.

"What of Humans?" she asked.

"Never heard of them either," he said. "But considering the fact that we seem to be sending down more and more aliens lately, who the hell knows." He glanced at his companion who had been ignoring the conversation. "Still it's a good idea to keep the groups down in number. We don't want any of the alien species to get too powerful in there. So maybe all these newcomers are a good thing to dump into the mix."

Seven considered that. "Why do the groups not merge into a unified front?"

He laughed. "Because they can't talk to each other," he said. He grinned at her. "Enjoy these last bits of conversation. Once we send you down, no kind of translator will work. You'll only be able to talk to your own kind."

Seven felt a bit ill. She was well aware of Janeway's formidable diplomatic skills, but if there was no common language and no technology which would serve to facilitate that, then the captain would be at a decided disadvantage. Seven knew that beings caught up in a fight for survival were rarely willing to negotiate, especially if they had to learn a language first. Suddenly the prospects for finding Janeway unscathed took a decidedly downward spiral.

She swallowed hard and stared at her hands. The guard, assuming he had crushed the last bit of hope in the prisoner, spat out his toothpick and went over to her. She deliberately did not resist when he injected her with a drug. It had no effect on her system but she feigned unconsciousness anyway. She did not consider herself a particularly good actor but the attempt must have been sufficient because he left her slumped on the bench and did not attempt to otherwise restrain her.

Two other guards entered from outside and picked her up, carrying her through the guarded hatch. For a brief second, she wondered if they were simply going to throw her into space but as it turned out, there was a crude sort of cylinder behind the door. She had not noted it when she had been escorted onto the shuttle. She was stuffed into it and for the next half hour spent a very unpleasant and discomforting trip in the cramped passenger pod as it descended to the surface of a huge asteroid.

Little wonder the prisoners were drugged before being transported, she thought uncharitably as the cylinder bounced a few times on the asteroid's surface before it was snagged by a Guardian in some kind of transport. The thick metal arms picked up the pod and bore it into a small installation where she was unceremoniously removed from it by yet more black clad Barellans. She was dragged over to an opening in the floor where she was hurled down an antigrav shaft. It took quite some time before she finally drifted to the bottom, landing with a soft thud, then the antigrav beam was shut off, the opening immediately above her sealing in the ceiling with a solid sound of finality.

For a brief period of time, she lay on the cold floor, keeping her eyes closed as she took in her surroundings with her other senses. There was the sound of someone approaching and she decided that it was no longer efficient for her to pretend she was unconscious. In one smooth motion, she uncoiled from the floor, rising to her feet to face the group approaching her.

The beings were a short species, but stocky with ridges running down both cheeks.  A third eye appeared in the center of their foreheads between the other two which were lower and set off to either side of the ridges. They apparently had a wide range of visual acuity, having no problem seeing that the newcomer which they expected to still be unconscious was instead standing upright and looking very alert.

The five slowed, surrounding her.

"(Take it from behind)," the middle one, apparently the leader said.

That was another thing Seven had neglected to mention to the guard on the shuttle. She did not use any form of technology to understand various languages. The Borg assimilated language along with the rest and while she was no walking natural translator as Arturis's people had been ... or as Seven liked to refer to them, Species 116, creators of the slipstream drive ... the wealth of knowledge in her brain from her time with the Collective allowed her to understand most alien tongues, provided their species had been assimilated at one time or another. Of course, on Voyager, she had the same translator utilized in her comm badge that others did but more often than not, she didn't have to use it, not only because the crew of Voyager spoke Human for the most part ... a North American English courtesy of Zefram Cochrane, the first Human to meet the Vulcans who together, formed the original Federation ... but because the Borg had pretty much acquired a sample from all the various languages in the Alpha Quadrant.

This language, however, was pure Delta Quadrant, from Species 993 and one she could handle with relative adeptness with her somewhat limited vocal apparatus.

"(Do not attack)," she said, applying the proper, emphatic hand gesture and head movement. "(Or I will defend myself)."

The aliens stopped dead in shock. After glancing at each other uneasily, the leader lowered his head. "(You are not one of us)," he said.

"(I am Borg)," she said, holding up her left hand to display the mesh, allowing her assimilation tubules to slide out for good measure, the silver tubes wiggling gently in the dim illumination.

The very fact they had a word in their language to describe her was enough. While the Barellans might not be aware of what the Borg were, this species knew exactly what it meant. They turned tail and ran for their lives which, although significant, made it difficult for her to question them about the whereabouts of an arrival four days earlier.

Frowning, she stared after their departing forms, then started hastily after them. After all, she badly needed answers.

And if she had to use the patented B'Elanna Torres Klingon method of questioning, she was more than prepared to do so.

Janeway curled up in a ball beneath a brief overhang. She was hot with fever, body drenched with sweat and she knew she needed water desperately to replace the fluid she was losing. The water fountains were far more plentiful than the food dispensers and while it was possible to be attacked while drinking or more daringly, trying to wash up a bit, the chances of being unobserved there were also greater. There was a fountain not too far from her tiny refuge, a few hundred feet down the dank corridor she found herself in but with the condition she was in, it might as well be kilometers.

Still, she knew she had to get to it and reluctantly, she left her shadowed patch of floor, getting to her feet in a series of movements that seemed to sap what little energy she had left. For long moments, she leaned against the wall, her breath a harsh stab of agony in her chest. Carefully using the cold metal surface as a brace, she shuffled toward the water fountain, stopping every few feet to rest and listen for the approach of anyone else. By now, six days after her arrival in this hell hole, it was highly unlikely she could fight off another loner, let along a grouping of any sort.

She coughed suddenly, the spasms tearing through her and she almost sank to the floor. Weakly she clutched at a small protrusion which kept her on her feet, knowing that if she went down, it would take more than she had at the moment to get back up again. She had to stay still for several moments after she stopped choking, trying to dredge up a little more energy from reserves which were sadly depleted.

It took her two hours to make the two hundred feet to the fountain, two hours of labored progress that was measured in pain rather than distance. She was barely able to push the controls which sent a clear stream of tepid water out of the nozzle but she managed, forcing herself to bend over, placing her mouth under the trickle. She was beyond thirst now which she knew in a distant sort of way was some indication of how sick she was, but she had to have water so she drank as much as she could, filling her belly and trying desperately to keep it down.

When she finished, she drew back, wiping her mouth shakily with the back of her hand, her breathing harsh in the still air as she held onto the lip of the basin for support. Gingerly she turned around, starting abruptly as she saw five beings surrounding her, the adrenaline flooding her with cold fear. She hadn't even heard their approach and they appeared like wraiths before her, thin streaks of charcoal wrapped in rags with glowing yellow eyes.

"(&*%$^*)" the middle one said, the largest one.

She, of course, had no clue what that meant but since the gleaming eyes were fixed on her boots, she had a pretty good idea what they wanted. She resisted feebly as the nearest two grabbed her and slammed her against the wall and as she watched the fist of the leader draw back, she tried desperately to brace herself for the impact.

Aware that this time, such a blow would most likely finish her.

Seven of Nine's eyes widened as she saw the figure pass by, the unmistakable red and black of a uniform tunic being worn by an individual moving through a juncture up ahead and she sprinted through the corridor, reaching out to grab the slender shoulder and spinning the alien around. Features that appeared more tentacle than face stared/smelled/goggled back at her.

"Where did you get this?" she demanded.

He gave every impression of alien incomprehension.

"(What the *unknown* do you think you're doing?)" he rattled off in his own language, shaking off her hand. Around her, four others of his species slipped into position around her, in immediate preparation for an attack.

This language was a bit tricky, requiring certain motions of tentacles to supplement the vocal sounds. Since she didn't have any of the wiggling appendages, she was forced to rely on a more primitive form of communication to get her meaning across. She seized the alien by the neck and lifted him off the ground, slamming him against the wall. She tugged on the tunic and glared into his optical organs.

"(Clothing. Where)?" she spat.

She felt another of the species bring their fists down across her shoulders and with a slowly forming anger which rose deep within her like the inexorable motion of the tide, she shrugged off the blows, dropping the one wearing the Starfleet tunic to the deck where he wheezed for breath. She whirled, grabbing her nearest attacker by the waistband, picking him up and tossing him a good fifty feet down the corridor. That gave the rest sufficient pause and they slowed their approach which was not the wisest move. A command from Seven's cranial implant triggered the mesh incasing her left hand, reshaping the bands of metal which ran down the inside of each finger into sharp-edged cutting blades which protruded beyond her fingertips with clawlike ends. With one swipe, she opened the throats of the two nearest aliens, blood spurting as they immediately collapsed on the floor.

The remaining two stopped, glanced once at their leader who was crawling away in the other direction past the gory bodies of their now rapidly cooling comrades, and apparently decided that self-preservation took precedence over species preservation, even in this prison. They abruptly turned and departed the area as quickly as it was possible for them to move.

Seven reached down and snagged the final alien by the scruff of his neck before he got too far and he whimpered as she lifted him up and slammed him into the wall again, then a second time just because she felt like it. She was not the sort to indulge in emotional displays but her concern for the captain was taking her over, filling her with feelings she did not necessarily understand but welcomed nonetheless. They flooded her, giving her strength and a power which would have been frightening if she had thought about it for very long.

"(Clothing. Where)?" she repeated, tugging on the tunic and wrestling it off him.

He shook his head either unable to understand or not willing to.

She held up her hand so he could see the razor sharp blades adorning the inside of each finger, the blackish blood staining the serrated edges, then nicked him once along the side of his face.

"(When you get this)?" she demanded, holding the tunic up before his bleeding features. "(How)?"

"(From Loner)," he gurgled. "(Day ago)."

"(Who)," she demanded.

"(Not know)," he said. "(Dead. Killed by Breen. Got off body.)."

Seven felt a faintness come over her. "(Show me)."

He certainly did not wish to comply but another look at his fallen brethren made him stagger down the corridor, away from where the rest of his group had disappeared. She followed him, her right hand on his shoulder, keeping her other well displayed. He led her through a confused mass of corridors where the sight of two differing species together was odd enough to attract attention, particularly when they saw that the taller loner apparently had a weapon of sorts, something which, for all intensive purposes, was impossible to acquire here and extremely valuable.

But the few larger groupings who tried to approach learned quickly what a high cost it would require of them to take it, far more than they could afford as their powerful groupings were suddenly reduced in number by a few, well placed swipes of the deadly hand.

Not that they could utilize her even if they somehow had managed to overwhelm her, Seven noted impassively as she dismembered a member of Species 758 while the single remaining member of the once impressive four member grouping scuttled away. Once dead, her implant would go off line and become nothing more than inert bands of metal. It was only her conscious control over the implant which kept the mesh formed into the cutting tool.

The alien, on whom she had maintained an immovable grip throughout all her battles, was literally faint with sheer terror when he was finally able to show her the small corridor which ended in a cul-de-sac. The stench of decomposition was strong and foul, wafting from it in an almost visible cloud. Her heart aching, Seven went in, no longer interested in the alien who took the opportunity to stumble away, no doubt hoping he could catch up with the remaining members of his species before he too was judged a loner and easy prey for others. She heard the scurrying of numerous tiny feet as she knelt down beside the small form, turning it over gently, recoiling at the rotted tissue which had been gnawed on by the breen which skittered just beyond her range. They remained in the shadows, waiting for her to leave, aware that her scent indicated she was far too strong and alert for them to make a meal of her but that the initial meal would probably remain. Seven steeled herself, looking for something recognizable, and only then noticed the fact that the bottom half of the corpse was covered in a thick grey hair, the feet ending in cloven hoofs.

She wanted to gasp in relief but the smell was too much and she stumbled from the area, finding a wall to lean against as she drew one shuddering breath after another. She noted that she was suddenly being left alone, her arrival in this larger, more central corridor sending the inhabitants in other directions, deciding they needed to be elsewhere for the moment.

Some things just defied the language barrier, she thought. A trail of alien corpses in her wake apparently spoke for itself.

She slowed her breathing and leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling where an alien light burned dimly. It shaded into a range of light and color that her human eye found uncomfortable and she was forced to blink rapidly, her Borg optical implant compensating for the infra spectrum, giving her a faintly blurred view when she used both.

A sound reached her ear and she angled her head, jaw dropping slightly as she tried to distinguish the noise. A scuffle she identified, someone preying on another. A common occurrence here but for lack of anything better to do, she followed the noise, wrapping the discarded Starfleet tunic around her waist, tying it by the sleeves.

She turned a corner and discovered five beings standing near a water dispersal unit. She did not see what was occupying their attention at first, then the middle one drew his arm back and she glimpsed the battered form which was shoved against the wall, being held by two others.

The sound that tore from her throat then was not entirely Human. Or Borg.

But it was all fury.

Janeway tried to brace herself for the blow when a cry of such rage filled her ears that she flinched. She blinked once and had the impression of a dark form crashing into the alien about to strike her, then the whole situation disintegrated into chaos. She collapsed on the floor as the grip on her arms was suddenly released and she drew a breath which made her start coughing. Weakly she fell against the wall, hoping that whatever was attacking would overlook her, the convulsions making it impossible for her to slink away from the titanic battle which was going on around her. The thick layer of dust and grime which covered the floor was stirred up, filling the air and creating a grim sort of fog.

Something spun through the murky air and she recoiled as a charcoal colored head with rapidly dimming golden eyes thudded to the floor mere inches  from her hands. She had no idea where the rest of the body was and she scrabbled weakly away from the gruesome remains. Finally she was able to control her coughing and she clawed at the wall, trying desperately to get to her knees, peering haplessly through the dust to see what was going on.

Only three figures remained standing, blurred outlines in the haze. Two slender charcoal strips that undulated around a taller, more solid one who matched the unnatural quickness of its attackers who kept trying to dart in with their clawlike hands. But the figure also sported its own claws and with a wicked slash, one of the charcoal figures went down to join its already fallen brethren, spurting grey blood from four parallel wounds across its chest, keening once in a chilling, inhuman wail before going permanently silent.

The final wraith leaped on top of the statuesque figure and with a snarl of annoyance, the figure reached behind and plucked the charcoal wraith off its back, holding it up briefly above its head before dashing it to the ground with stunning force and the crunch of snapping bone. The charcoal being did not move again and Janeway cowered in the dirt as the tall being approached her.

"Kathryn?"

The voice, the word was so familiar and so out of place in this environment of terror that she could only gape stupidly at the woman kneeling down before her. Janeway blinked hard, staring at the cool, narrow features, the lanky, six foot body dressed in an unfamiliar black outfit, the white blond hair which was astoundingly clipped short, close to the base of her skull, a single lock falling over the smooth forehead into ice blue eyes which were dark with concern. A metallic grey piece framed the left eye while a small starburst implant adorned the right cheek where jaw met earlobe.

"An--- Annika," Janeway whispered.

Seven seemed afraid to touch her and Janeway was suddenly aware of how she must look, at how her bruised and battered appearance must seem to her crewmember. Who was also her friend, her lover and her partner. She shuddered against the wall, unable to believe this was really happening, quivering in sheer disbelief.

"It will be all right, Kathryn," Seven said then in an impossibly gentle voice.

She reached out slowly and Janeway flinched away as the warm hand touched her cheek. But she did not resist as the tall woman carefully gathered her up in her arms and carried her away from the area of death and destruction. Deep in shock, Janeway could only huddle within the strong embrace and bury her face into the warm hollow of shoulder and neck. She didn't know if this was reality, if she was somehow fantasizing it or not, but she was content to shut everything else out, existing only in the moment, in the protective arms holding her, cradling her, keeping her safe.

She cried out as she was lowered to the floor, the Borg easing her from the embrace and she reached out in nameless dread.

"I will be right back," Seven assured her. "Stay here."

Dismayed, Janeway watched as the woman walked away but Seven did not go far, only to a food dispenser set in the wall. She placed her hand against the plate and a tray materialized on the shelf, a small chime sounding which would no doubt draw in every group within earshot, knowing that food had been dispensed and was available. Seven picked up the tray with her right hand and returned with it to where Janeway was sitting. The captain felt a flood of saliva fill her mouth as the odor of food hit her nostrils and she stared stupidly as the tray was laid on her lap. Patiently, Seven removed the utensils from the envelope and placed a fork in Janeway's right hand.

"Slowly," she instructed. "Eat now."

Shaking, Janeway took a bite, the white pasty gruel laying on her tongue with little taste or texture. She thought it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten and she swallowed, savoring the sensation of solid food going down her throat.

Seven stood over her, facing out, glaring at the few who had gathered at the chime. No one came any closer. The Borg was clearly not weak and the dangerous way she held herself, displaying her hands, letting the muted light glint of the serrated metal of the left spoke volumes, conveying a significance that transcended the language barrier. It did not take long for them to drift away, aware that there was nothing here for them, believing that they would be able to take her another time.  After all, there was only one of her.  With no one other than her obviously pitiful companion to cover her back as she ate, with no one to watch out while she slept, sooner or later, she would weaken and fall before a superior grouping, no matter how strong she was at the moment.

Janeway managed to swallow a few more bites, her shrunken stomach allowing no room for any more. She fumbled with the bulb which lay on the side of the tray, a small globe filled with liquid and brought it to her mouth, sucking on the small nipple. The fluid was tart and tangy, cold and harsh on her taste buds but it contained much needed nutrients and her body accepted it eagerly.

Finished, she pushed the tray away, unable to look at the remaining food suddenly, nausea filling her though she was grimly determined not to lose what little she had gained. Seven knelt down beside her and once again picked her up.

"We must find a place for you to rest," she said. "Where I can treat you."

Janeway wanted to tell her there was no such place, but she was strangely incapable of speech and she could only make a soft sigh of protest. But Seven seemed to understand and she hugged her tighter.

"It will be all right," she said again.

Janeway believed her. Because she was suddenly too tired to fight anymore, too tired to do anything but rest helplessly in these arms which were carrying her as easily as a child through the corridors. Seven finally stopped before a circular grill midway up the wall, a heavy, metal object through which, warm air wafted gently. It was a vent of some kind, the cover supposedly unmoveable, impenetrable, the area behind hidden and unknown. This stretch of corridor was considered prime territory, belonging to whoever could hold it, the slight increase in temperature making it extremely valuable. Janeway was shocked to see that no one was visible at the moment and she wondered if this area had belonged to the charcoal beings. In any event, though it was clear for the moment, Janeway did not know how Seven intended to maintain her possession of it. She was still only one person and it wasn't as if Janeway could do anything to help against the groups that were bound to be lured to the prime real estate.

Seven lowered the captain to the floor, propping her against the wall, then ran the fingers of her mesh covered left hand along the seam bordering the large, circular panel. She paused at one spot and Janeway heard the soft sound of a click, a subtle sort of release. The heavy door swung open without so much as a squeak and Janeway was struck dumb in astonishment as Seven picked her up again and lifted her into the tube which had been concealed behind the panel. The interior was a smooth tunnel which was warm and dry, surprisingly clean, illuminated by a line of dimmer lights in the ceiling above them. Dazedly, Janeway managed to crawl a little further into this refuge, glancing back to see Seven climb in after her. The Borg pulled the vent cover closed, securing them inside with the solid sound of the door sealing itself to the frame.

For the first time since this had all began, Janeway felt a flicker of hope, felt a sense that perhaps there would be some future beyond the next moment. She stared at Seven, drinking in the sight of her with confused gratitude.

"How?" she croaked.

"I shall explain later," Seven said quietly.

She crouched beside the captain, gently taking Janeway's left arm and holding it up so that she could see the wrist, staring at the band of black and blue streaked with red, the hand swollen and stiff.

"I must repair this," she said. She looked into the captain's eyes and Janeway saw the love and concern in the eyes, warming her, comforting her. She barely noticed the pain from her wrist. "This will hurt."

Janeway nodded briefly to indicate she understood. Seven laid the captain's arm carefully down on her lap and shrugged out of the heavy black vest she was wearing. It would be a prized possession for anyone in this prison. The fact that she still was wearing it, that people were avoiding Seven rather than being attracted to the wealth it represented told Janeway a great deal about how strong her partner truly was, something she had only been slightly aware of prior to seeing her totally annihilate those five aliens.

From a concealed pocket in the shoulder, Seven removed a strand of multicolored ampules, comprised of soft plastic rather than glass. Janeway wondered how Seven had gotten them in but then realized that the Guardians had also left her with pretty much everything she had arrived with including her communicator and the pips on her collar. She had not had a tricorder or a phaser with her on the away mission, an oversight that Tuvok had protested but a protocol she had insisted was undiplomatic. She didn't know if it would have made any difference at all, if possibly she would have been able to help Ensign Canexel as he fought off the Guardians before being killed or if they simply would have killed her as well instead of just arresting her.

Obviously, Seven's implants were considered part of the woman, just another display of her alien anatomy, and the Barellans were unaware of just how they could be altered into useful tools or weapons. But then, Janeway had also been unaware of how they could be altered and she had lived with the woman for almost a year.

Or was it something she had known before and had forgotten?

Seven was studying the strand of ampules carefully before finally choosing six of the vials, three green, two red and a pale blue, breaking them off from the collection which she then replaced in the pocket. She snapped off the tops and handed them to Janeway one at a time.

"Take them," Seven instructed gently, as if to a child.

Janeway held her breath and swallowed the various liquids obediently, trying not to gag at the strong, medicinal flavor sliding down her throat. The fluids alternately burned and chilled as they went and she wondered if that was good or bad, though it seemed she felt marginally better almost immediately.

Seven took the captain's wrist again and Janeway marveled when she saw it cradled in the mesh covered left hand, held with such delicacy and gentleness by the very same implant which had wreaked such havoc only a short time before. Seven dipped her head until she captured the captain's gaze.

"I must set the bones," she said quietly. "It would be more efficient if you were unconscious."

Janeway managed a brief grin with her split and sore lips. "Any ideas?" she rasped.

"I shall utilize the Vulcan nerve pinch," Seven informed her.

And before Janeway could say a word or otherwise object, she felt the slender fingers reach the juncture of her neck and shoulder, experiencing a gentle squeeze that plunged her into complete and utter blackness.

Seven held Janeway's wrist tenderly and carefully pressed all the small bones back into place, her enhanced hearing detecting each muffled click as they reset. After that was done, she dug a bandage from another of her vest pockets and wrapped the wrist tightly. Voyager's crew had not had a lot of time to gather supplies for her to take that would not only get by the inspection for weapons but would also be immune to whatever dampening field was being used in the prison to deactivate all energy devices, but they had done their best. B'Elanna and Neelix had dressed her in this combat outfit which included the vest which was festooned with concealed pockets disguised as padding. She didn't yet know what all she carried besides the medical supplies the Doctor had shoved in after the fact, but she hoped whatever B'Elanna had included would prove to be useful.

She eased Janeway down from her slumped position against the wall and straightened her out on the floor. She removed the captain's boots, then the frayed trousers, checking Janeway's hips and legs thoroughly, making a note that the heavy uniform pants had seemed more protective than the rest of her outfit. She managed to redress the captain in the trousers without too much difficulty then made a quick pass over the woman's torso, lifting up the t-shirt. She was dismayed at all the damage Janeway had sustained on her body, concerned especially by the dark, spongy area on her left side.  Still, Janeway seemed to be breathing with relative ease so the Borg hoped that if the ribs were damaged, they were cracked rather than just broken.  She hauled out more bandages and strapped up the captain's rib cage, grateful for the few emergency medical courses she had taken at the Doctor's suggestion, having read all the reference material though she had never really been forced to utilize her knowledge before now.

She would have given her life for it not to be Kathryn she was applying the knowledge to.

Seven lowered the shirt, smoothing it back over the battered torso gently, wishing she had a bone knitter, or at least, a dermal regenerator.  She paused suddenly as she heard something from further down the tunnel. She glanced up, gazing at the far end of the tube which was hidden in shadow, noticing the glint of metal for the first time. She removed the Starfleet tunic from her waist and rolled it up, slipped it beneath Janeway's head. Then she covered the captain with the vest before crawling deeper into the tunnel to investigate the sounds she heard.

She was surprised to discover a thick metal grate through which the warm air raising the temperature of the tube flowed freely. She pressed her face against the openings and peered through them, trying to see what lay beyond. She sensed a much larger space, concealed in a darkness that even her Borg vision could not penetrate, filled with sounds of trickling liquid along with various other hums and swishes of some unknown origin that for some reason, sounded mechanical. She gingerly slipped her arm through the grate and waved it about, trying to feel something, anything. Moisture splashed on her hand and she jerked it back, gazing at the clear liquid running down her wrist. She examined it closely, then tasted it gingerly, evaluating it . It was similar to the tepid fluid dispensed by the hydro units and she realized that there must be a pipe running above that fed  into those units and that it was leaking.

Grateful for such a fortunate happenstance, Seven searched her outfit, finally ripping a strip of cloth from the bottom of her turtleneck sweater. She wet the cloth thoroughly, soaking it in the steady trickle and returned to Janeway, gently wiping away the blood and dirt from the captain's face, cleaning the multitude of cuts, then made several more trips to do what she could for the torso beneath the tattered shirt.

She was just finishing when Janeway stirred, moaning softly. Seven reached down and stroked the cheek softly, saddened at the confusion and fear that filled the blue-grey eyes as they opened, searching the dim illumination about her wildly. The Borg did not think the captain even saw her at first.

"My boots," Janeway cried, trying to get up.

Seven held Janeway's shoulders comfortingly, keeping her from rising.

"They're close by, Kathryn," she said calmly. She reached over and picked up the pair of boots, showing them to the captain.

Janeway relaxed when she saw them and some of the panic left her eyes.

"Annika?" she whispered.

"I am right here, Kathryn," Seven soothed, dropping the boots back on the floor.

Janeway took a breath. "I wasn't hallucinating then," she said.

"No," Seven offered quietly. "I am not a figment of your imagination."

Janeway swallowed hard and closed her eyes again. Two tears slid out from under her lids, tracking moist streaks down her cheeks. Carefully, Seven slipped her arm beneath the smaller woman's shoulders and drew her up onto her lap, leaning back against the curved wall as she held her partner close to her. She was oblivious to the grime of the captain's uniform, the ripe odor of a body which had not seen a shower or a bath for several days. With a sigh of relief, she drew the heavy vest over them both.

"Here, take this," she instructed, fishing out another vial for the captain, a yellowish one this time.

Obediently Janeway took it, swallowing the contents in a sudden gulp before handing the emptied ampule back to Seven who crushed it into powder between the forefinger and thumb of her left hand.

"You cut your hair," Janeway mumbled as she snuggled down against Seven.

Seven raised a surprised eyebrow. "Yes," she said. She hesitated. "There was a great deal of confusion while arranging this plan. It was B'Elanna's idea to shorten the length of my hair, in a belief that it would make me look ... 'tougher', more like a criminal. I do not know if I agree, but in any event, she cut it."

"It looks good on you," Janeway murmured.

Seven blinked. "Indeed," she said slowly. "Then I shall maintain it."

"What's this plan you mentioned?" Janeway asked, and Seven was gratified to hear a tiny yet definable trace of command creep back into the weak voice.

"I was to be arrested and taken to this prison," Seven said. "Then I was to track you down. which fortunately did not take long."

"How did you find me?" Janeway asked.

"I followed the sounds of an altercation," Seven told her. Her voice took on a dryly amused note. "Somehow I knew you would be in the middle of it."

"And not doing too damned well," Janeway agreed. She took a breath, deep and slow, and changed the subject. "My chest doesn't hurt anymore. I was afraid I was getting pneumonia."

"You probably were," Seven said logically. "The vials I gave you were a broad spectrum antibiotic, the strongest the Doctor could give me. He told me to administer several immediately, then future doses at specified intervals. He said it would stop any infection you might have. Apparently, he was correct."

"Where is Voyager now?" Janeway asked anxiously.

"I am not sure," Seven admitted. "They were to trace the signal being emitted by my Borg implants in order to find the prison. After that, they were to standby in a concealed position until I could get you to a location where we can be beamed out of here. Once their sensors pick up my locator signal, they will contact me and offer further instructions."

"So we do have a way out," Janeway said slowly.

"I believe so," Seven agreed. "However, I also suspect we are in the deepest, most inaccessible section of the prison which will no doubt interfere with Voyager's communication and transporter technology."

"We are," Janeway agreed. "We're in a big asteroid, inside a kilometer of solid rock. The outermost layer is administrative, then another layer of rock before the first level of prison cells."

"Cells?" Seven echoed.

"The Barellans," Janeway explained. "They have the most prisoners so they have the most power and the best area. Then the next largest group has the next level and so on until this bottom level which is little more than a maze of corridors which go no where."  There was an uncharacteristic bitterness to her voice, a hatred threading through her words which caught Seven's attention, making her frown.

"Then we must reach the administrative level in order to facilitate our beam out," Seven suggested.

Janeway shook her head. "It's not that simple," she said. "The higher you go, the more powerful the groupings of each species. You may be a great deal stronger than I had realized but you're still only one person, Seven. And I don't think I'll be much help." Her voice trailed off at the end, with a touch of ... contempt at her weakened state? Seven hugged her closer.

"Then we shall have to find another way," Seven said, thinking about that dark emptiness beyond the grate ... and where it might lead.

There was a pause and Seven felt Janeway trembling. "Tell me," she said softly.

Janeway did not respond right away and Seven waited patiently, holding her tight.

"You shouldn't have risked yourself to save me," the captain said finally, tightly, her shoulders hunched. "Nor should Chakotay have risked the ship. It was foolish."

"Perhaps," Seven said. "But I will never leave you behind, Kathryn. You cannot ask that of me."

Janeway began to shake more violently. "I was so scared Annika," she admitted in a tiny voice, choking on the sobs rising in her throat. "I was so very scared."

"I know," Seven told her, cuddling her, pressing her cheek to the damp forehead, trying to comfort her partner. She knew that this was the 'reaction', the overwhelming emotion that came in the aftermath of an extremely stressful time. She had experienced it herself on more than a few occasions and had even seen Kathryn display it once or twice before. She stroked the tangled auburn locks gently, frowning as her fingertips felt the bump on the back of the skull, the caked blood matting the hair together, castigating herself for having missed it on her initial inspection.

"Kathryn, it is all right to feel fear," she whispered as the captain started to weep, great shuddering sobs that tore at her frail form. "I swear to you, I will not let anything or anyone hurt you again, not as long as there is breath in my body." She held Janeway as close as she could without hurting her tender rib cage. "I love you, Kathryn," she told her again and again. "We are together. It will be all right."

Finally the sobs died away and Janeway was quiet in the embrace, no longer clinging so tightly to the Borg. Seven kissed her gently on the forehead, then brushed her lips down the elegant nose, found the cut lips which she kissed with the utmost tenderness. Then again, slower, lingeringly, trying to communicate how very much she adored her.

"Oh god, I must taste terrible," Janeway said, managing a half laugh when they finally parted.

"You taste wonderful," Seven said with great sincerity.

Janeway took a deep breath and buried her face into Seven's shoulder. "You are biased," she mumbled drowsily, the outpouring of emotion having drained her of what little reserve she had.

"Always," Seven agreed. She pulled the vest up around them and rested her palm warmly on Janeway's cheek. "Go to sleep now, Kathryn. You must rest and regain your strength."

"We need to stay alert," Janeway murmured.

"I will keep watch, Kathryn," Seven assured her. "Sleep."

And as the captain finally surrendered to her weariness, Seven remained awake, her eyes keen in the dim light, staring at the darkness that lay beyond the grate.

Pondering. Janeway stumbled around in the dark, feeling the sharp sting of claws rake her body. They were after her and she fell beneath their pounding fists, the blows falling again and again on her cowering body and she curled up in a fetal position, crying out.

"Kathryn."

Janeway came awake, her heart pounding in her ears, sweat dampening her t-shirt. She pushed against the confining arms holding her, trying to escape. It took a few seconds to recognize Seven, to realize the arms that held her were comforting rather than restraining, loving rather than hurtful. She drew deep shuddering breaths, one after another, trying to regain some sense of equilibrium, some kind of control.

"It was just a dream, Kathryn," Seven said softly, stroking her hair. "Nothing will harm you."

"Oh god," Janeway moaned and clung to the lanky body next to her, holding on for dear life. "Oh god, Annika."

"Shh, it is all right, Kathryn," the Borg told her. "I am here. We are together."

Janeway gulped audibly and pressed her face against Seven's chest, hearing the powerful beat of the Borg's heart beneath her ear, feeling it comfort her, its steady throb surrounding her with the young woman's strength and courage. She closed her eyes and concentrated on it, bringing her own racing pulse under control, taking from her partner what was freely offered.

Finally Seven loosened the embrace and Janeway sat up, wiping at her eyes.

"I'm in a bad way," she said shakily, bending her head to her clenched fists.

"You will improve," Seven told her firmly.

Janeway found herself rocking slightly, unable to stop. "I don't know if that's true, Annika," she said shakily. "I've never been in this kind of situation before. Not one where I've been so ... physically abused again and again. Not even when I was captured by the Cardassians. These ... aliens beat me when I fought back, they beat me when I didn't resist, they beat me every chance they got." Her respiration was increasing again and she clenched her fists tighter. "I couldn't stop them, Annika."

Seven carefully put her hand on Janeway's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You survived," she said quietly, dipping her head to catch the captain's gaze. "Even though you were greatly outnumbered." Her pale blue eyes were intent, honest, trying hard to communicate her love and belief. "Kathryn, it will be intelligence that allows us to escape this prison, not brute force. And you are the most intelligent person I know."

Janeway tried to take comfort in the words spoken so sincerely, tried to believe them as much as her partner seemed to. One part of her took heart, convinced that Seven was absolutely correct, that as long as there was life, there was hope and together, little could deny them. But there was another part of her, a lonely, isolated, terrified part which wanted only to curl up and die, to hide away where nothing could hurt her anymore. She forced herself to breathe slowly as gradually, in small increments, she relaxed and leaned into her partner, feeling the Borg embrace her, the slender arms enveloping her, lending her their strength.

"I'm still afraid, Annika," she said finally in a muffled voice. "But I won't let it rule me."

"I believe you," Seven said softly. "You cannot be defeated, Kathryn. There is nothing strong enough to do that. Not the Borg, not the Delta Quadrant, and certainly not this prison."

Janeway swallowed hard and by sheer force of will, pulled away from the embrace, sitting upright. She looked at the Borg with what she hoped was firm resolve. "What's the plan?" she said, proud that her voice no longer shook.

Seven stared intently at her a moment as if to judge whether she were feigning or not, then motioned with her chin. "Take a look at this," she said.

Janeway followed Seven as her partner crawled deeper into the tube, stopping before a solid metal grate. Janeway examined it, trying to penetrate the darkness beyond.

"Where does it lead?" she asked.

"I do not know," Seven said. "But the fact that the door at the other end was so heavily sealed indicates that the prison authorities do not want anyone to enter these tunnels. Perhaps because they are a possible escape route. There is a steady current of air flowing through here."

"If only we had a light," Janeway said fretfully.

"Perhaps we do," Seven said. "I have not yet checked all the pockets of my clothes. There are many concealed ones."

"Let's see what we have to work with, then," Janeway ordered, sitting down cross legged as Seven started to go through the vest as well as her pants.

This was the first time, Janeway had been able to get a clear look at Seven's outfit. It differed greatly from the normal, skin tight outfits which she regularly wore on Voyager. It was heavy, a combat outfit with black trousers, sweater and heavy boots tied up the front. The pants concealed many pockets and from them, Seven hauled an assortment of treasures that the hasty preparation had managed from ship's stores, all made of natural materials which would not set off any sensor array. Janeway stared at them in amazement, wondering why her ship had such things on hand, and who in her crew would be stocking them. There were candles made of beeswax, wooden sulphur matches, an antique canteen made of some unidentifiable skin, a hundred yard roll of Vulcan silkworm microfilament, Starfleet issued ration bars ... Janeway couldn't help herself at this last. She pounced on them, snatching one up and tearing the foil from it.

She crammed the tan colored square into her mouth, and flushed hotly as she saw Seven staring at her while she chewed avidly, crumbs spilling over her chin. "Didn't remember them being this good," she mumbled in a low voice, humiliated at being so obvious in her need.

"Hunger is the best spice for any meal," Seven said gently in understanding. She handed Janeway another one. "You need to eat, Kathryn. Do not be embarrassed by that."

"We need to conserve them," Janeway countered though she looked longingly at the second one. "You have to eat as well. We can't afford to let you get weak."

Seven nodded and opened the bar, breaking off about a quarter of it. The rest she pressed into Janeway's hand. "This is sufficient for my nutritional requirements," she said. "The rest will not keep out of the foil. Finish it."

Janeway hesitated, then obediently ate it, though she was slower this time, lingering over the dry, crumbling, sweetish flavor of it. It wasn't that it tasted good. In ordinary circumstances, she found the things revolting but it tasted familiar, of Starfleet and home, and she savored every morsel. She could have eaten ten more if they had been available. For a moment, she had a mental image of Jake, her Irish Setter puppy who vacuumed up his assorted meals with little pause to chew. She thought she had him beat at the moment.

"What?" Seven asked.

Startled, Janeway looked at her. "What?" she responded.

"You were smiling," Seven said, tilting her head. "Just a little."

Janeway took a breath. "I was just thinking that if Jake were here, I'd still be quicker in finishing my bar before he did," she said.

Seven matched the small smile and reached out, entwining her fingers with Janeway's. "Nothing is faster than Jake," she assured her.

Janeway regarded her for a long moment, then felt the corners of her mouth twitch once more. "I know," she said.

Seven squeezed her hand lovingly, then they went back to assessing their supplies. The vest was crammed full of medical items including some needles and thin thread which Seven regarded uncertainly. Janeway had to explain about stitches, then when Seven pulled out a small plastic bottle that smelled strongly of whiskey, about primitive forms of anesthesia and sterilization.

"I cannot believe he neglected to include leeches," Seven said with distaste.

Janeway raised a wry eyebrow. "I'm sure we can find some," she said, and then shuddered as she realized how accurate a prediction that might be.

Seven eyed her briefly, then began to gather up the various items and replace them in the pockets of her vest and pants. Janeway frowned as she looked at her partner.

"You're a walking treasure trove, Annika," she said worriedly. "I'm surprised you didn't have more trouble while you were looking for me."

"I was attacked many times," Seven said without concern. "They failed. There are many four and five member groupings of species which now must be considered loners."

Janeway took a few moments to consider that. Consider the fact that Seven had killed wantonly and without hesitation on her behalf. And that instead of upsetting her, it made the captain feel safe and protected.

"You've certainly managed to upset the status quo down here," she said finally.

Seven paused in her motion. "Don't I always?" she remarked, somewhat dryly.

Despite their predicament, Janeway laughed. "You certainly do," she said warmly. She glanced back and noticed for the first time the red and black tunic laying on the floor. Her eyes widened and she looked back at Seven. "Where did you find my tunic?"

Seven hesitated. "The alien wearing it had no further need of it," she said. "He had taken it off yet another alien who had been killed by something called the breen. That alien was covered with hair from the waist down and had cloven hooves. Is that the one who took it from you?"

Janeway was disquieted by the vengeful glee that filled her at the information, knowing the being who had beat her so badly was dead. "Yes," she said faintly. "I lost it three days ago."

"Now you have it back," Seven said gently.

The Borg leaned over and picked it up, shaking it out thoroughly and presenting it to Janeway who accepted it uncertainly. She looked at it for a moment, then slowly, she pulled it on, squaring her shoulders beneath the band of command red. The gold comm badge glittered briefly in the dim lighting and she had to take a few seconds to compose herself.

"Do not forget your boots," Seven reminded her.

Janeway flicked a glance at her, flushed a bit, then obligingly retrieved them and put them on. The uniform was grungy and dusty, permeated with several smells that were alien and strange as well as her own rather ripe odor. But it was hers and she felt considerably better now that she was dressed in it once more.

Seven struck a match, lighting a candle, and then began to examine the grate more closely.

Janeway studied the other side. "What about alarms?" she noted.

Seven shook her head minutely. "They were all in the outer vent covering," she said.

"You deactivated them?" Janeway asked anxiously.

Seven glanced at her. "No," she said. "That might have alerted the administrators. I simply inserted a probe through the seam and released the lock from the inside. That bypassed the necessity for any alarms to be activated."

"Oh," Janeway responded, then smiled. "Remind me to take you along every time I need to break out of jail."

"I will remind you to take me along every time you leave the ship," Seven said somewhat testily.

Janeway pursed her lips. "Maybe you should," she agreed sorrowfully. "Lt. Canexel died trying to protect me. You might have stood a better chance looking after me."

Seven frowned, clearly disturbed at Janeway's harsh self evaluation at what had merely been a bit of a sarcastic comment, one the captain normally would have ignored or matched with equal sarcasm. "Why were you arrested?" she asked quietly after a few moments. "What did you do?"

Janeway took a long, slow breath. "The Guardians were taking a merchant into custody, and I didn't like how they were arresting him," she said. "I didn't realize at the time that the brutality was their tradition method of 'subduing' a prisoner. I tried to intervene and they turned on me. Canexel tried to get me out, but they shot him down with a disruptor." Her eyes were bleak as she stared unseeingly at the grate. "Because I didn't mind my own business, a crewmember died, another risks her life to find me, and my entire ship is endangered trying to rescue me. All my lectures about the prime directive, about respecting differing cultures even if we don't agree with them. I expect my crew to follow Starfleet protocols to the letter. Then ignore them myself." She shook her head, furious with herself. "I'm such a hypocrite."

Seven carefully did not look at her, testing the grate at various points with her left hand as her right held the candle. "Your compassion for others is part of what makes you a great captain," she said softly. "I would not want to see you lose that. Especially when it was your compassion for a Borg drone which allowed me to remain on Voyager. Which gave me the opportunity to love you."

Janeway was silent for long moments, torn between her self-disgust and the warm feeling Seven's reminder had given her. "Still, I have to learn to pick my spots better," she muttered finally.

"With that," Seven remarked as there was a muted click and the grate suddenly swung open into the darkness beyond. "I have to agree." She lit a second candle and passed it back to Janeway. "Ready?"

Janeway nodded.

"Let's see what's out there," the captain said. Seven crawled cautiously through the grate, groping around with her toe until she found footing a few feet below the opening. It was not artificial, but natural stone, hard and uneven beneath her boots. She knelt to examine it as Janeway followed her, leaving the grate ajar in case they had to return. Seven wondered if this was a part of the asteroid itself, the rock a deep, metallic black which seemed almost shiny in the dim illumination. Water glistened in tiny streams which snaked over the floor, fed by the drips falling steadily from above. She sniffed carefully at the air, noting that it was actually much cleaner than was within the prison proper, with less dust and better circulation and she tried to sense the dimensions of the area around her. For some reason, though the light from her candle did not encounter walls beyond where she was standing, she did not get the impression of a vast space.

Janeway held her candle high as she examined the area above her, studying the tangle of pipes which were illuminated in the flickering flame, streaked with rust, caked with a greenish corrosion, leaking at several points. She held out her hand and caught some of the moisture, studying it for a moment before catching more in her palm which she carefully tasted. Determining it was indeed water from a pipe that fed the various drinking units on this level, she leaned beneath one of the larger trickles, drinking deeply. Then she carefully set her candle down nearby and put her whole head under the steady flow, soaking her hair and cleaning some of the dirt and caked blood from it, an expression of relief on her face.

Seven kept an eye on the captain as she searched the rest of their immediate area, making sure Janeway did not over exert herself. Kathryn looked a great deal better than she had when the Borg had found her, the rations and antibiotics clearly doing wonders in restoring her metabolism, but her movements were still stiff, very labored for the woman who normally moved with a brisk, athletic litheness.

"If these are any indication," Seven remarked when Janeway had finished, squeezing the excess water from her hair. "This level can expect a failure in their water distribution in the near future." Her voice echoed slightly, causing her to lower it immediately.

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, there's no way of knowing the rate of corrosion here," she replied softly. "For all we know, these pipes are replaced every two months."

Seven regarded the conglomeration of pipes. "I do not believe so," she said. "I believe they are the original installation and have never been maintained properly."

Janeway did not answer, apparently willing to concede the point, retrieving her candle and stepping deeper into the cavern, careful of her footing. Seven was quick to move after her, easing past her, wanting to be in front. She was aware of a wry grin ghosting over the captain's lips as she did so, but Janeway did not object, apparently content to allow Seven to take point.

They followed the wall from the grate, conscious of the air moving about them steadily. It was warm, originating from some unknown source and they angled toward the direction in which it was originating. Their candles did not give them a lot of light but the tiny flames were better than nothing and Seven's Borg-enhanced night vision allowed her to see a great deal further than Janeway could. There was a large opening in the far wall, a tunnel cut through the solid rock face. The pipes organized themselves into several parallel conduits that ran along the roof of the tunnel. They were also leaking in spots, though they appeared much less corroded than those in the cavern.

"They have to lead somewhere," Janeway said as they regarded them thoughtfully. "And so does the tunnel."

"It might not be to the surface," Seven warned gently.

"No, but we have to start somewhere," Janeway said with a sigh. She glanced at Seven. "Has Voyager managed to contact you yet?"

Seven shook her head. "No," she replied. "I believe our fears were correct. We are too deep to receive a signal."

Janeway sighed. "Hopefully, this will get us up a few levels," she said. "Let's go."

This time she let Seven take the lead from the start and the Borg felt the captain's hand grope for hers as they entered the tunnel even though she was still unable to flex the fingers. Seven was glad of the physical connection, warmed by the way Janeway trusted her injured hand in her grasp. They traveled in silence, the incessant dripping of water a constant companion, underlaid by the soft rush of warm air around them. When it suddenly stopped, so did Seven, freezing in her tracks.

Janeway also paused and they both listened intently. Seven heard it first, the slither of scales over rock and she put her hand back, pushing Janeway against the wall, imposing her body between her and whatever was approaching. At first, she thought it was some form of eyeless snake she was seeing, then realized dispassionately that it was actually a tentacle, sent out by something much larger, large enough to block the current of warm air coming from beyond the darkness. They could smell it too, a damp, musty odor, sharp and repelling.

"Hold this," Seven said calmly, handing the candle back to Janeway.

"I can't," Janeway reminded her tersely.

Seven frowned and placed the candle on the floor, intending to pick it up after the fact, its tiny flame flickering fretfully. She altered her hand implant again to the cutting blades, adding two spikes which shot out from where the assimilation tubules were stored. She had briefly considered simply assimilating the creature but since she had not really assimilated anything outside of the Collective, she had no idea what the result would be. Nor was she anxious to have the mind of whatever it was added to the mass of identities already floating around her subconscious.

"Be careful," Janeway said in a barely audible whisper.

"That is my intention," Seven remarked in her normal voice.

The reverberating roar that surrounded them startled her and made Janeway almost drop her candle. Seven made a note of the fact that since there were loud creatures already roaming this subterranean caverns that the Barellans would hardly have alarms keyed to sound. That was one less thing to worry about.

Which was good because this seemed quite formidable a challenge in itself. More tentacles snaked forward, writhing on the floor but they did not come any nearer, remaining just beyond the circle of illumination.

"Bring the light forward," Seven requested.

Cautiously they both stepped closer. Contrary to Seven's preliminary theory, however, the tentacles did not retreat as the light hit them. Instead, they grew more agitated, reaching for them but not quite touching them.

"I believe we are just beyond the limit of its reach," Seven suggested.

"I think you're right," Janeway said tightly. "Should we go back?"

"Let us see if I can convince it that we are not prey," Seven said. "I have practiced that technique quite a lot recently."

She dashed forward and swiped hard at the withering tentacles, severing several. However, before she could leap back out of range, another shot forward, wrapping around her ankle and sending her crashing to the ground. She felt herself being dragged toward the darkness, another tentacle snagging her other foot as she struggled to free herself.

"No," Janeway screamed and she leaped forward, using the only weapon she had, the tiny candle flame which she brought down across the tentacle. To Seven's disbelief and considerable gratitude, there was a scream of agony from the creature and the tentacles immediately released her, withdrawing back into the darkness. There was the sound of something large moving hastily away and the rush of air suddenly resumed.

Profoundly surprised, the two Voyager crewmembers looked at each other.

"That seemed somewhat easier than one would expect," Seven noted, rising up on her elbows.

Janeway's face was drawn in the dim candle light. "I know," she said. Then she looked down. "Annika, look."

Seven rolled to her feet and turned her gaze to what Janeway was indicating, to the candle the Borg had earlier placed on the floor. It had fallen over in the attack and was now lying on its side, still lit. To their amazement, there was also a small band of flame around it, slowly spreading in an ever increasing circle.

"The rock is flammable," Seven noted with surprise. "That is why the creature retreated. It would have a natural instinct to avoid even the smallest indication of fire which could rapidly spread out of control here."

"And that's also why there's absolutely nothing flammable in the prison, either," Janeway said, picking up the candle and passed it to Seven before carefully stomping out the rest of the flame. It left a fine, powdery ash where it had burned and she examined it closer. "It's not the rock, Annika. It's some kind of moisture, a very thin fluid which seems to be oozing from it."

Seven joined her. "This would allow us to make a torch," she said. "That would afford us increased illumination, and would also proved to be a formidable weapon if we encounter any more of the creatures."

Janeway nodded. "Good idea," she said. She eyed Seven wryly and the Borg was glad to see some of her partner's vitality sparkling in the blue-grey eyes. "Your shirt or mine?"

"This vest has no fastenings," Seven said evenly. "It is designed to hang open."

Janeway's lips twitched but she didn't hesitate. She began to strip off her tunic, and with Seven's help, pulled off her t-shirt before pulling the tunic back on, closing it up to her neck. She carefully removed the four pips from the shirt collar which she handed to Seven who stored them in a pocket for safekeeping, then knelt, rubbing the shirt over the rock, picking up as much of the oily residue as she could.

"Any idea how we'll carry it?" she asked, looking at the Borg.

Seven frowned, then spotted one of the severed tentacles laying nearby in a pool of gore, the white edge of bone protruding from one end. She realized the tentacles had actually been segmented, made up of individual bones like links in a chain rather than cartilage as was the case in other creatures such as the Terran octopus or giant squid. She picked up one of the larger segments and with a rather casual left handed swipe, she cleared most of the tissue from it, aware of Janeway making a most peculiar face. Seven offered the slender bone to the captain who accepted it distastefully.

"Thank you," Janeway said in a voice devoid of inflection. Seven tried not to smile.

The captain wrapped the shirt tightly around one end of the bone, securing it with some of the Vulcan silkworm microfilament. Then holding it away from her, the captain used Seven's candle to light it. At first it gave off a pungent smoke, then it caught and burned with a clean, steady yellow flame, granting them a brighter and more natural light than they had experienced for some time.

Its illumination revealed that the tunnel ran another twenty meters, giving them a greater concept of the creature's size. The forbidding hole of darkness at the end indicated a much larger area laying beyond. They glanced at each other, then blew out the candles, sticking them back in Seven's pocket. Together, they moved cautiously towards the opening as Janeway kept the torch so that Seven would not have both hands occupied. The captain already had the right one, resting her injured hand in its gentle grasp.

They hesitated at the mouth of the tunnel, staring about in wonder. This was a huge, natural cavern, too high for the torch to illuminate fully, festooned with stalagmites. They looked up and saw the pipes they had been following ran straight up along the rock face, disappearing high into the gloom above them.

Seven heard Janeway sigh. "Annika, have I ever taught you to rock climb?" she asked.

"No," Seven replied. "It was something you indicated that you would teach me, but we never had the opportunity."

Janeway looked at her.

"Well, we do now," she said. Janeway watched as Seven made her third attempt to scale the rock face. The oily residue had made it difficult for the Borg and practically impossible for Janeway to climb. The captain could just barely see the lower half of her partner who was using her hand implant to spike into the rock, securing her hold as she went while she used the pipes to support her other side. Janeway frowned as the Borg hesitated above her, then she raised an eyebrow as the Borg began to descend.

"What's wrong?" she asked when Seven finally reached the bottom.

"The pipes enter a small opening cut in the ceiling," Seven explained. "It is only big enough for the passage of the pipes and there is no way to cut away the rock around it."

Janeway suppressed a sigh and found a nearby boulder to sit on, suddenly made very weary by this new obstacle. Seven sat beside her and despite the captain's desire to give the appearance of being strong, Janeway found herself leaning against her crewmember weakly.

"This is silly," the captain muttered fretfully. "You were the one doing all the climbing."

"Yes, but my reserves are fresh," Seven said, sliding her arm around the captain's shoulders and hugging her. "Yours are not. We should eat, and rest. Then we will try exploring the cavern. Perhaps there is another way to the next level."

Janeway didn't answer, didn't want to sound pessimistic about such an idea. After all, what other choice did they have? She took a breath and accepted the ration bar Seven handed her. Nearby, the torch which had been stuck in some rocks burned with a steady, clean light. Janeway thought that whatever the oil was oozing from the rocks, it was a remarkably pure and long lasting fossil fuel. In the twentieth century on Earth, such a thing would be exceptionally valuable. It actually lay in motionless pools about the cavern, looking very similar to water and had no real odor.

She chewed numbly at her bar and then accepted the canteen Seven offered, sipping at it.

"Drink as much as you require," Seven recommended. "I will fill it again before we leave the pipes. The time to conserve will come later."

Janeway heeded her advice, taking larger swallows, washing down the dry nutrient bar. She noted that the ration bars no longer held the same appeal they did such a very short time ago. Seven nudged her gently and handed her another red vial. The captain regarded it unenthusiastically, then flicked off the plastic top and drank down the contents quickly, followed by several more large drinks of water to disperse the sharp, medicinal taste.

"I wish I knew why medicine has to taste bad," she complained.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "The Doctor told me it was so Humans would believe in its effect," she said. "It is entirely possible to flavor medicine in any manner but if it tastes acceptable or even appealing, then there is a subconscious belief that it is not strong enough to work which would actually counteract its function."

Janeway stared at her skeptically. "Really?"

"That is what he told me," Seven said without opinion.

Janeway's lips quirked. "Maybe he's right," she said thoughtfully.

"And it is working," Seven said. Janeway gave her a 'how do you know?' glance and the Borg added promptly, "You are complaining. You weren't strong enough to offer complaints on minor matters before."

Janeway smiled. "You got me," she admitted. She rested her head on Seven's shoulder and closed her eyes. "I'm going to take such a long bath when we get back," she murmured drowsily. "Will you join me?"

She felt Seven's lips press against her forehead. "I would be honored," the Borg agreed with gentle humor.

Janeway smiled and settled closer, dismayed at the weariness that permeated her body. She felt herself drift off and she brought herself awake with an abrupt jerk. Seven rubbed her back gently.

"Rest for a bit," the Borg instructed quietly. "It will do us little good if you exhaust yourself trying to do more than your body will allow."

Janeway exhaled softly. "You're probably right," she said.

She allowed herself to sink back into the warmth of her partner's embrace, letting herself doze off this time, secure in the knowledge that Seven would remain alert. She woke some time later, not knowing how long she had been out, only aware that she felt much more alert and rested.

"Now you," she said softly.

Seven hesitated. "I do not need sleep," she tried.

"That's an order," Janeway said and was proud to hear the firm crack of command in her voice. She had missed it.

Seven eyed her uncertainly, then obligingly slid down onto the ground, leaning against the boulder and closing her eyes. While the Borg took her nap, the captain kept watch, one hand holding the torch, her sore hand resting on Seven's shoulder. Much later, when Seven finally did awake, the young woman had the grace to look abashed.

"You were correct," she said. "I did require rest."

"Let's go," Janeway suggested, smiling.

They rose from their rocky seats, and Seven made a quick trip into the access tunnel to refill the canteen while Janeway took care of a few biological functions. Then they began to explore the cavern, discovering several other openings in the rock face but only one which seemed to have any incline in the slope of the ground. They did not need to debate it. Seven simply walked into it and Janeway followed, accepting that this was their best option to date. It was a gradual slope, but Janeway's smooth soled boots had trouble with the slick surface, and she had to lean heavily on Seven in several spots. Seven's treaded footwear handled the slippery ground much better and she kept her left hand touching the rock surface as she moved, ready to dig in at a second's notice.

They had been traveling for only an hour when they came across another set of pipes which came up from the ground and continued up the rock face where they disappeared into the ceiling above. Several of them branched off and ran into the dark hole of another tunnel. Janeway held the torch as Seven knelt to examine them.

"I believe they are the same as the ones we have already encountered," the Borg said.

Janeway was elated but she tried to keep her voice calm.

"I think so too," she said. "You realize what this means, Annika?"

Seven nodded. "We have been traveling in a circle, probably on a circuit around the prison itself," she responded. She nodded at the other tunnel. "That probably leads to a vent in the next level up from where we were imprisoned."

"So if we continue to follow this tunnel," Janeway said. "We're going to reach the surface, sooner or later."

Seven glanced at her. "Or hopefully to a level where Voyager can contact us," she said. Her voice was without much inflection but Janeway could see that her eyes were shining.

Janeway heaved a silent sigh of relief. "Lead on," she said, smiling.

Seven returned the smile briefly and, taking the captain's elbow gently, she started off. They checked off each circuit by the pipes and access tunnel, stopping on one occasion to refill the canteen. The pipes improved in condition the further they ascended, but Seven was still able to puncture a hole in one of them to give them more water. They were on their fifth circuit when they heard noises ahead of them, the sounds of alien voices and heavy footsteps. Alarmed, they exchanged glances, then with a quick jerk of her head, Seven indicated they should return to the access tunnel they had just passed.

Moving as quietly as they could, Seven shielding the torch with her body, they turned around and slipped and slid their way back down the incline, aware of the sounds getting progressively closer. There was dancing shadows appearing in their wake from artificial lanterns just as they reached the access tunnel and they plunged into it eagerly. Seven quickly extinguished the torch and they pressed against the wall, holding their breaths as a large group of Barellan Guardians passed, carrying several pieces of heavy equipment.

When the last sounds of their passage had died away, Seven dug a match out of her jacket and lit it, the bright flare of the small stick bright in the deep blackness which had fallen over them with the extinguishing of the torch. She was frowning, eyes dark as the small flame flickered and danced, shadows ghosting over her face.

Janeway was equally somber.

"I guess the dampening field isn't active out here," the captain said. "I understood what they were saying."

Seven looked at her. "Then you know what they are going to do," she said.

Janeway nodded. "I know," she responded grimly. "Someone must have informed them exactly what Borg are. They think you might have assimilated the entire level and they're going to fill it with poison gas. They'll kill everyone in an effort to get to you."

She did not look at Seven as she made her next pronouncement.

"We have to stop them."

Seven stared at her, knowing her mouth had fallen open and unable to do much about it. She wondered if the captain's mental facilities had somehow become damaged during her ordeal.

The captain caught her expression and frowned, jaw firming. "It's the right thing to do," she added firmly.

"It is the tactically unsound thing to do," Seven objected. "I cannot believe you are suggesting it."

Janeway took a breath. "Seven," she began and the younger woman restrained a wince. "We have to make the attempt."

Once Janeway started using her Borg name rather than Seven's Human one, that meant she was in full captain mode, extremely difficult to counter. It is a sad thing when the designation one has known most of one's existence becomes nothing more than a toll of doom, the Borg thought irritably as she lit the torch with the match which was getting perilously close to her fingers.

"Captain," she said flatly, her voice firm and devoid of emotion. "It is highly unlikely we would be successful in such an endeavor. We will most certainly perish."

"Seven," Janeway tried again. "This whole situation is my fault. If I hadn't interfered with their culture, you wouldn't be here and they wouldn't now be purging the lower level to eliminate the Borg threat. I have to do this."

Seven stared at her for a long moment. She felt a little uncomfortable at utilizing personal emotions in what should be a professional discussion but she could not allow their long standing, unspoken agreement to stop her here. She had no intention of losing this argument. "You have no right to do this, Captain," she said. "You owe your crew more than this. You owe me more than this."

Janeway looked startled. "What do you mean?" she said slowly.

"I could refuse this order," Seven said quietly but forcefully. "I could render you unconscious and carry you the rest of the way to the surface. However, that would damage what we have between us in such a way that I fear we would never repair it. So instead, I will make my best attempt to succeed at what you ask of me. But I will fail because they are in full armor and carry disruptors, outnumbering me twenty to one. After they kill me, they will go ahead and gas the lower level anyway to make sure no assimilation had taken place. Eventually, Voyager will proceed on its way, assuming it is not discovered, never knowing what happened to us." She took a step closer. "Be sure of exactly what you're asking of us, Captain."

Janeway held her eyes for a long moment, then looked away, unable to maintain it.

"You don't understand," she said in a low voice.

Seven gentled her tone. "On the contrary, I understand very well," she said. "You feel you've made an error that has cost the life of Lt. Canexel and now may cost the lives of other innocent bystanders. As always, when you make a mistake, you do your best to correct it. And in this case, as in others, you overcompensate, determined to make some form of restitution you can live with. But it will be a futile attempt."

Janeway took several deep breaths, staring at the ground. Then she raised her eyes to Seven's level gaze. "I have to do something," she said in a pleading tone.

"I am aware of that," Seven responded. "But pick your spot wisely, Captain. This is not it."

After a long moment, Janeway finally nodded. "All right," she said. "Let's go. The sooner we get back to Voyager, the sooner I'll be in a position to do something positive."

Seven refused to display the relief which flooded so strongly through her. Instead, she merely hefted the torch and after checking to make sure the coast was clear, led the way out of the access tunnel. She felt Janeway's hand seek out hers and she took it gently in her grasp, considerably gratified that not only had she finally managed to win an argument with the captain, there were no repercussions to them personally. This was definitely one she would have to put in her personal logs since it was not something she thought would happen again any time soon.

They moved with more purpose now, their steps quickening. Janeway was filled with a certain resolve which seemed to lend her strength. She slipped less and was far more flexible than she had been. Of course, Seven noted, the tunnel on the upper levels had seen more use and were better maintained, leaving less oily residue on the rocks which made thier passage considerably easier. They grew more cautious as their surroundings became more manufactured. When the tunnel abruptly shifted from rock to metal which had the uncomfortable illumination of lights on the ceiling, Seven doused the torch and discarded it, glad to be rid of the bone which was starting to give off an unpleasantly burnt and putrid odor.

She and Janeway rested briefly in the first access tunnel they came across, the hum of machinery and air circulation much louder here. Keeping an eye out for alarms and sensors, they finally left their refuge and walked up the final slope, knowing that this must be the top level of the prison itself. They came to a room which held an elevator of sorts, manned by two Guardians.

Seven eased back around the corner when she saw them, hoping they hadn't spotted her. When there was no alarm raised, she used hand signals to indicate that they should take a moment to regroup. Janeway gave a sharp nod and together, they hid in the shadows of a large conduit which appeared to be the main water pipe, about four meters across, leaving space for them to crouch under it.

"Suggestions?" Janeway whispered, her lips barely moving.

Seven peeked out at the two Guardians. "According to what you said earlier, there must be a layer of rock between us and the Administrative level," she said in a low voice. "It continues to block our communications. We have to get past it. But unlike the prison area, it will be a secure area, fully manned with Guardians."

"I'll bet the lift will take us up there, however," Janeway said. "And there's only two guards manning it down here. If we can just get by them and activate the lift, we might be able to contact Voyager and be beamed out before we actually reach the administrative level."

"Perhaps," Seven agreed without enthusiasm. She frowned. "There is little cover and the last ten feet to the elevator is clear. I do not think I can move fast enough to get to them before they shoot me down."

"Then we need a distraction," Janeway said.

"Such as?"

Janeway smiled. "Give me a match," she demanded.

Confused, Seven did so and before she could object, the captain made a motion for her to stay and disappeared back down the tunnel. Fuming, the Borg waited as patiently as she could, feeling several eternities go by before Janeway finally rejoined her.

"What did you do?" Seven whispered.

"Started a distraction," Janeway responded rather smugly.

Seven frowned, then caught the sight of smoke drifting towards her along the ceiling.

"You set the rock on fire?" she asked in astonishment.

"It should bring them running," Janeway told her.

And it did, the two leaving their posts to investigate. Seven thought it must be a fairly common occurrence since they did not seem unduly alarmed, merely curious.

"One of those damned fools must've sparked something on the way down," the taller one grumbled as they approached.

"Serve 'em right to get trapped by a back flame," the other agreed sourly. "We should inform the base."

He reached for what must have been his communicator, a square device clipped to his belt. He had barely put his fingers on it, when Seven walloped him across the back of the head with a solid left hook. The other gaped stupidly at her and the captain who had recovered enough of her strength, kicked him soundly in what normally would be the area of Human male genitalia. Apparently, Barellans were similarly constructed and he let out a high pitched squeak before crashing to the floor, vomiting.

Seven put a stop to this rather disgusting result by clubbing him soundly on the side of the head, then gingerly removed his weapon, a heavy disruptor rifle which she kicked under the conduit. The other, she hefted grimly and looked at Janeway.

The captain, who was unable to weld such a heavy weapon with her injured hand, instead grabbed the other devices off the Guardian's belts and headed for the elevator. It took some experimentation but she was finally able to figure out how to open the door. Seven hoped she had not set off any silent alarms in the process.

They plunged into the open elevator and Janeway hit the buttons on the panel inside. There were only two and even in an alien script, the up arrow seemed self-explanatory. Then she and Seven pressed against the wall, just inside the door, hopefully hidden from anyone once the door opened, giving them that extra second of advantage.

"Anything yet?" Janeway asked worriedly.

"Nothing," Seven said. "I would ask you to try your communicator, but any transmission may set off their sensors."

"Voyager to Seven."

Seven pursed her lips. Apparently Voyager was not equally concerned about their transmission being detected.

"Seven here," the Borg replied. She noted that there was no signal over Janeway's badge and both women realized that the captain's communicator must have been damaged sometime in the past week. Voyager had no way of knowing that the captain was standing next to Seven. She took off her comm badge and stuck it on Janeway's right breast. She knew the ship could track her by her implants. "Two to beam up."

There was elation in the voice then but concern as well. "We're trying, Seven," Chakotay said. "We can tell you're ascending. You need to get a little closer to the surface."

"Do your best," Janeway said. She looked up as the elevator suddenly jolted to a stop and the doors began to open. "Quickly," she added.

Seven took a swift glance outward, jerked her face back as disruptor fire splashed into the elevator, her nose burning at the near miss. She slid down to the floor and fired back without looking, the beam slicing at ground level and apparently taking a few Guardians off at the knees judging by the screams. She rolled to the other side, taking the opportunity to see what was facing them as she did so, catching her breath at the array of armed Guardians out there.

She heard the hum of a transporter, glanced over at Janeway who was surrounded by sparkles. Apparently Voyager could only take one of them at a time and not very well at that, the figure of the captain fluxuating as the beam strained to dematerialize her.

They needed more time to solidify the beam and the disruptor fire was not helping, interfering with the signal. She had to draw it away somehow. She took a breath. Kathryn would be safe. In the end, that was all that truly mattered.

She rose to her feet and exploded out of the elevator, firing steadily as she ran and dodged, not knowing where she was going, only knowing that somehow she had to give Voyager the time it needed to get the captain home.

Seven did not actually feel the energy discharge that hit her. She only knew that she was suddenly falling through space and time, to a dark place that seemed beyond blackness.

Beyond pain. Janeway jumped off the transporter dais and rushed over to the console where Tuvok and B'Elanna were working the controls. Tuvok merely raised an eyebrow in her direction as he continued to intently reset the board. B'Elanna was less composed, the Klingon staring in open astonishment at the captain's wild and filthy appearance.

"Have you retrieved Seven?" Janeway asked anxiously, trying to ignore her chief engineer's expression. Obviously she looked bad enough that B'Elanna was literally speechless, a condition that rarely occurred.

"Attempting to do so, Captain," Tuvok responded smoothly. His hands moved lightly over the board. "She continues to move ... ah, we have her now. Sensors are detecting disruptor fire. She may have been hit which is why she stopped moving."

Dry mouthed, Janeway turned to look at the dais where a figure was materializing in fits and starts amongst the sparkle and hum of the transporter beam. Finally it solidified, a bloody and shattered figure sprawled lifelessly on the pad. Janeway felt dizziness threaten to overwhelm her as she saw the gaping wound in Seven's side, the gleam of white bone and metal which was immediately obscured by a crimson rush which spread around the still body, sending rivulets to cascade over the edge of the dais. She took an abortive step toward Seven, her knees seemingly made of jelly.

But Tuvok had already reacted. "Transporting directly to sickbay," he said, changing the settings. As he did, he activated his comm badge. "Doctor, Seven of Nine is being beamed to sickbay. She has been severely injured."

"Understood," the Doctor responded. There was a brief pause. "The captain?"

"Here, Doctor," Janeway said faintly. "I'm on my way."

Just then, the ship rocked, sending the three staggering to one side. Janeway looked inquiringly at the security chief when she regained her equilibrium. He had left the console, B'Elanna on his heels, heading for the exit. "The Barellan are not ... pleased with our intrusion," he explained as they left the transporter room, dashing down the corridor. "Now that we have what we came for from their prison, we still need to escape their security fleet."

There was a brief hesitation, a tearing within the captain as they headed for the turbolift. Janeway felt like she was being ripped in half but the sudden, cold discipline which abruptly fell over her shoved aside her fear and despair over her partner, buried the emotions deep within an impenetrable shell of command. Logically, she could do nothing for Seven as much as she would have wished otherwise. It was completely in the Doctor's hands, now. Meanwhile, her ship was in danger. She had her own job to do and she took a breath, stepping into the turbolift with both Tuvok and B'Elanna.

"Bridge," she snapped.

Tuvok looked vaguely approving, as if appreciating the choice she had made in that split second of indecision. B'Elanna looked profoundly outraged, but that easily could have been from the captain's distinct body odor. The Klingon's nose was wrinkling as the lift traveled swiftly up to the bridge, and Janeway was very aware that as horrible as she smelled, she probably looked much worse, though there was little she could do about either situation at the moment. Adrenalin rushed through her, granting her the much needed strength and sudden, sharp clarity that appeared whenever it was required ... whenever her ship and crew were threatened.

The reaction of the bridge crew substantiated what B'Elanna was probably thinking as the trio stepped out into the bridge which was awash with the red alert of battle stations. Harry Kim looked as if he barely recognized the captain, and while Tom Paris could spare no more than a glance behind him as he worked the helm, that brief look spoke absolute volumes. Tuvok accepted his tactical position from Susan Nicoletti who stepped aside absently, astounded eyes focused on the captain, no doubt thinking that Janeway looked like something the cat had just dragged in. And threw up.

As Janeway gingerly descended the stairs leading to the lower level, Chakotay rose to his feet, gaping at her as if she had just returned from the dead, his shock something that Voyager could ill afford in the middle of a battle.

"Report," she snapped, breaking through his horror.

He shook himself like a big bear. "There are five Barellan ships out there," he replied crisply as they both sat down, the first officer moving over to give up the command chair to her. "We had been concealed in a nearby asteroid but when the sensors picked up Seven's comm badge, we were forced to come into the open to make the transport. Shields are holding for now but they do outnumber us."

"Can we go to warp?" she asked. "Outrun them?"

"We're still deep in the asteroid belt," he said. "Tom's trying to get us clear in order to engage warp drive. We're still five minutes away."

Janeway nodded, sitting alertly as her keen eyes took in the fore viewscreen, the image of the five vessels in pursuit, and beyond them, the large asteroid where she had gone through such an abusive ordeal. She had an overwhelming urge to turn back, to face these aliens and smash them into a pulp, then destroy the asteroid itself, leaving nothing but clean, clear vacuum.

She knew that she would have to deal with all these wildly conflicting emotions eventually, but now she had to prioritize, make the right decision for Voyager and not allow emotion to color her judgement. It was a harsh reality of command, something that could, on occasion, be cruel to both herself and others, but it had to be done. The fact she was still able to take command this way, even after all she had been through, was a source of profound amazement to her, but she refused to dwell on that either.

"Ready photon torpedoes," she instructed. "Make it look like we're damaged and venting plasma. Then lay them out like mines."

She no longer thought about the Barellans on the surface who were in the process of gassing the prison population, terrified that the Borg had somehow assimilated them. She could not even think of Seven herself, her mind sliding away from that image of Seven rushing to face the disruptor fire, from the helpless feeling of being caught in the transporter beam, unable to do anything but watch Seven's suicidal dash to draw their fire. Janeway was vaguely aware that she was terrified beyond measure, that an internal part of her continued to scream insanely at the memory of Seven's bloody body on the transporter dais. The steel core of command running through her refused to allow her to indulge in such things right now. There was only the present, the overpowering need to get her people and ship to safety.

"Torpedoes away," Tuvok said.

Janeway waited until the Barellan ships were almost on them, savagely gleeful that the pursuing vessels seemed to be unaware that those were live mines Voyager had dropped rather than just debris.

"Detonate," she snapped.

Tuvok did and the screen was suddenly filled with explosions. Two of the Barellan ships were destroyed totally, the first's death throes reaching out to trigger the second. The other three veered off frantically before resuming their pursuit but at a position much farther back, their disruptor fire no longer hammering at Voyager's shields.

"Two minutes to the border of the asteroid field," Tom reported.

"They can still intercept," Tuvok warned. "They are gaining."

"Open a channel," Janeway said.

Harry Kim glanced at her uncertainly as she stood and looked at him expectantly but he did as she ordered.

"On screen," he responded.

She turned to face the infuriated features of the Barellan security commander. "Break off or I will destroy you," she said coldly. "The authorities of Xenth Penitentiary are in the process of gassing the prison population which have been assimilated by the Borg. If you don't return, you might not have a prison left to protect."

There was no reason that morass of half truths and outright lies should have worked but for some reason it did. Perhaps because of her appearance or the crazed look in her eyes. The transmission abruptly ended, altering to show the Barellan ships breaking off and turning around, heading back into the asteroid field in the general direction of the prison. She didn't know how the Barellans would deal with it from here, but she realized that she had no more influence on it. She had to pick her spots to make a difference in the Delta Quadrant. Today was not going to be one of them despite what she might have hoped earlier.

She felt strangely distanced as they finally cleared the asteroid field and the stars began to streak as Tom Paris threw Voyager into warp, the viewscreen altering the image from the aft view to one fore of the hull. Janeway's pulse pounded in her ears as she turned to Chakotay.

"Thank you for coming after me," she said simply, loud enough for the entire bridge to hear.

"There was no other choice," he responded quietly as at the other stations, the others nodded in agreement. "Not really."

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you anyway," she said. She took a breath, attempting to speak clearly and distinctly. "I need to be in sickbay now. You have the bridge. Resume course to the Alpha Quadrant."

He took a step forward, raising his hand as if to assist her but she ignored it as she turned and walked unsteadily to the turbolift. The doors slid shut behind her and she had to lean against the wall as it accelerated downward in obedient response to her weakly croaked "Sickbay".

She tried not to think, tried to keep going on sheer will and no conscious effort at all, afraid if she let herself speculate on Seven's present condition or even her own, she wouldn't be able to move at all. As it was, she had to support herself against the bulkhead with her good hand as she left the turbolift and staggered toward sickbay. Passing crewmembers made horrified attempts to help her but she waved them off, leaving astonishment and shock in her wake though they did follow at a distance, perhaps to make sure she would actually make it through the doors. She didn't quite understand why she was doing this, or even why she had to, driven by some undefinable part of her to make this journey on her own two feet, unassisted.

Someone must have warned the medical staff she was coming however, because she was met by Sek just inside the door. The holographic medical assistant with light hair and eyes, still vaguely resembling Kes, the Ocampa her matrix had been based on, though more Human in features, caught the captain as she began to fall and hustled her to the nearest biobed.

Janeway tried to resist as she saw the Doctor running towards her.

"You need to look after Seven," she protested weakly. "Where is she?"

"Seven is fine," he said gently as he ran a medical probe over her while Sek used scissors to cut away her tattered and filthy clothes. Janeway felt a pang as the uniform which had been such a symbol of Starfleet and home the last few days was removed without hesitation, the entire thing discarded in the nearest disposal immediately.

"The wound looked a lot worse than it was," he explained further as he studied his tricorder. "Seven's vest absorbed most of the blast and what leaked through merely sheared off a large section of epidermis. In fact, her skeletal structure is what really protected her. When I removed the abdominal implant, I had to reinforce her rib cage with duranium which caused the disruptor beam to literally deflect off. Of course, the shock of being hit knocked her for a loop and I had to place her under sedation while she recovers. She'll be out for a few hours and by the time she regains consciousness, a regenerative gel pack will have replaced the flesh she lost."

Janeway leaned back on the bed, relief and exhaustion slamming over her like a huge wave. Then she had a sudden suspicion that the Doctor was talking far too much.  Attempting to distract her from what he was doing to her. Or about to do to her.

"Don't sedate me," she ordered belatedly as she felt the hiss of a hypospray press against her neck. "I need to debrief the crew."

"Too late," the Doctor informed her cheerfully.

That was the last thing she heard as darkness overwhelmed her.

Seven regained consciousness with a sudden, sharp intake of breath. Her eyes flew open and for an instant, she didn't know where she was or what had happened. Then it all came back to her as she recognized the ceiling of sickbay. She had, in the past, become intimately familiar with it, having spent several days on her back, completely immobile on two separate occasions while recovering from the removal of her abdominal implant.

She flexed cautiously. Except for a bit of tightness at her side, everything seemed to be functioning properly. She did wince at the memory of how she had been damaged. She wondered what had possessed her to do such a foolish thing as dash into a blast of disruptor fire. Surely if she had taken a few extra seconds and used her intellect, a more efficient method of protecting the captain would have resulted.

She realized she had been acting quite irrationally lately ... ever since the captain had gone missing, consumed by strong emotions which dictated her actions rather than her normal, calm, reasonable consideration of each problem.  She hoped that it was a temporary aberration and not one that indicated how she would be in the future.

She glanced sideways and saw Janeway laying on a biobed not too far away. It was obvious from the lowered lights that sickbay was in the middle of the night watch and the Borg could see Sek in the lighted office, totally absorbed in whatever she was doing at the console. Surreptitiously, Seven slipped from her bed and moved stealthily over to where her partner lay.

Janeway looked considerably better than she had before, all the scabbed over nicks and cuts having been treated and healed as well as the bruises which had discolored her face and made it swell around the eyes and jaw. Seven could also tell that the medical staff had cleaned the captain up, the scent rising from her skin almost harsh in its medicinal odor compared to Janeway's normal warm fragrance or even the pungent, musky, unwashed redolence she had been radiating the past few days. Seven thought she preferred even the latter to the chemical stench of sickbay cleansers and antiseptics.

It did not, however, stop her from bending down and gently kissing Janeway on the healed lips, brushing over them lightly.

Janeway stirred, blinking with a certain amount of confusion and lingering fear shadowing her eyes. A small sound of anxiety issued from her throat and Seven leaned closer.

"Shh, Kathryn," she said very softly. "It is just me."

Janeway's gaze cleared and she focused on Seven's face. "Annika," she whispered.

"Yes," Seven said. "Are you all right?"

Janeway just stared at her. "Yes," she managed finally. "You?"

Seven nodded. "I am functioning," she responded. "My side is healed now."

That seemed to focus the captain even more and Seven was startled by the intense anger that abruptly filled the blue-grey eyes. The Borg had a sudden, sinking sensation that perhaps she should have stayed in her own biobed and she tried not to jump as Janeway seized her arms in a fierce grip, rising from the bed into a half sitting position, her face thrust into the young Borg's startled features.

"What the hell were you thinking?" the captain hissed. "You could have been killed rushing the Barellan's position. It was completely insane."

Seven would have argued but for the fact she totally agreed. Plus she realized the anger Janeway was displaying was based on her fear for Seven's safety. She too, became very angry with the captain when Janeway did things that seemed dangerous so Seven knew well how powerful an emotion it could be.

"I am sorry, Kathryn," she replied humbly. "You are correct. I acted imprudently. I should have come up with a better plan for drawing their fire away from your location so that it would not interfere with the transporter signal."

Janeway was silent, breathing heavily and Seven realized the captain was truly furious which meant of course, that she had been absolutely terrified. The Borg thought that it must have appeared worse than she had imagined and of course, it probably did not help that she had actually been injured in the course of carrying out her rather impetuous decision.

"I am sorry I worried you," she apologized again.

Gradually Janeway seemed to calm and she released her grip on Seven's arm, still propped up on her elbows. "Don't ever do that again," she ordered in a low voice that shook with intensity.

"I will not," Seven promised. The fact that she could not imagine a similar set of circumstances taking place which would require it of her, she decided was not something she should point out. She reached up and gently brushed a stray lock of auburn hair from Janeway's brow. "How do you feel?"

Janeway blinked and settled back against the bed. "I don't know," she said honestly.

Seven frowned at the unexpected response, then glanced at the office. "Do you want me to call the Doctor?" she asked worriedly.

"No, it's not like that," Janeway said, then paused as if not knowing how to explain it. She was silent for a moment. "I want to go home," she added in a smaller voice.

Seven took a breath, disturbed at her partner's obvious discomfort. "Then I shall take you," she decided abruptly, gathering the captain up in her arms, cradling her as she started for the door.

"Annika," Janeway said in that patient tone she took on when Seven had committed what the captain called a faux pas. She slipped her arms around Seven's neck and looked at her intently.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven said, pausing in the center of the medical bay.

"You have no clothes on," Janeway pointed out. "And neither do I."

Seven considered that. It did not bother her unduly to walk around naked but she understood that Humans had a very strong nudity taboo. Even though Kathryn still had a sheet wrapped around her, it was unlikely that the captain would wish to be seen by any of the crew in such attire. Seven also noted at this point that Sek had finally realized her patients were acting in livelier fashion than they probably should have been and she rushed out of the office at a fair clip.

"Computer, activate Emergency Medical Program," the medical assistant said in an urgent tone.

The Doctor suddenly appeared. "Please state the nature of the med---," he began, then stopped, frowning as he took in the sight of the nude six foot blonde Borg, the captain held easily in her arms. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Returning to our quarters," Seven said reasonably.

Janeway looked at her with a raised brow, then glanced at the doctor expectantly, clearly waiting for his response.

"I haven't released you," the Doctor said in outrage. "Either of you."

"I am functioning acceptably," Seven said. "And the captain wishes to return to her own bed."

Janeway looked back at the Doctor with a bemused expression, as if to say she really had nothing to do with this whole thing beyond simply being there. He did not seem convinced.

"Captain, you have undergone severe physical trauma," he began grimly.

Janeway sighed. "Doctor, I feel perfectly fine," she interrupted before he got on a roll. "Is this anything I can't recover from in my own bed?"

He hesitated, then exhaled audibly in frustration. Seven knew that the Doctor was very aware that keeping Kathryn in sickbay if she wanted to leave was doomed to failure. Not unless he could prove that her physical well being depended on remaining here. Seven did not believe that was the case in this instance.

"No, you'll be sore, but you'd probably recover better in more familiar surroundings," he admitted grouchily. "Seven already had you on the road to recovery from your pneumonia with the antibiotics and serums I sent down and she did a fine job of setting your wrist. That along with your contusions and other wounds were easily healed by a bone knitter and a dermal regenerator. All you really need now is lots of rest and good food. But, Captain, you are notorious for not following such a prescription."

"I will, this time," Janeway said with great sincerity. "What about Seven? Has she healed enough to be released?"

"Obviously, she has if she's hauling you around like a sack of corn," he replied with some asperity. Seven's eyebrow quirked and he regarded her sourly. "Do you intend to walk through the ship like that?"

Seven was more than willing but she realized that Janeway would probably not agree. She looked at the captain hesitantly. Janeway smiled faintly at her.

"Computer, this is the captain," Kathryn said quietly. "Site-to-site transport on my mark. Two to beam from sickbay to the living area in my quarters."

"Transporter activated," the computer replied evenly. It had no opinion of utilizing an expenditure of energy for what ever reason. If it could do it, it would, particularly at the captain's request.

The captain looked at the Doctor. "Thank you for your fine work, Doctor," she said in a gentler voice. "Yours, as well, Sek."

Spurred by the captain's manners, Seven also added her thanks before Janeway activated the transporter. The next thing the Borg knew, they were in the familiar and comforting surroundings of their quarters, materializing in front of the low couch. The lights were down, and there was no sound, meaning that Jake was still being housed at Naomi's, the ship's only child who was quartered with her mother, Ensign Samantha Wildman. Seven hoped the pup was okay and had been behaving himself during his mistresses' abscence. She regarded her partner closely.

"Are you really all right?" she asked with concern.

Janeway hugged her gently. "I'm a little stiff," she said. "But it's nothing a long hot bath won't cure."

"Then we shall have a bath," Seven agreed and started for the bedroom and the ensuite. Janeway did not object or make any attempt to be released from this embrace which actually worried Seven a little. Normally the captain would not allow herself to be coddled in such a manner. But perhaps, Seven thought, Kathryn had been through so much the past few days that she requires this pampering. Seven knew she was certainly glad to indulge her.

She entered the bathroom and lowered Janeway to the floor beside the large tub. The captain swayed briefly as she placed her feet on the cold tiles and Seven supported her until she had managed to regain her balance.

"You are weaker than you pretended in sickbay," Seven said with a touch of annoyance.

Janeway slipped her arms around her neck and held onto her, looking up into her face with a serious expression. "Annika, I'm not comfortable showing how vulnerable I am," she said. "To anyone besides you. Please allow me that privacy."

Seven considered that and dipped her head in recognition, flattered by Janeway's trust despite her concern for her health. "All right," she said finally. "But you must rest and recuperate. Otherwise, I will carry you back to sickbay myself, regardless of how you are dressed."

"Then I promise to look after myself," Janeway allowed quietly, her lips twitching. "Or, at least, let you look after me."

"Very well," Seven said. "Then we are in agreement."

She set the controls for the bath, then looked the captain over carefully, removing the sheet. The slim body had no visible damage beyond a thinness that could only be cured with food. Still, there was a frailty to Janeway that disturbed Seven and made her even more tender than her normal loving attitude toward her. She realized she was frowning when Janeway suddenly reached up and placed her hand against Seven's cheek, her fingertips smoothing over the Borg's brow.

"Annika, I'll be fine," she assured. "I'm just a little unsteady. That will pass."

Seven gazed into her eyes. "There is something more," she said, gently taking her in her arms.

Janeway went very still and Seven waited patiently for the response. "Yes," the captain said finally. "There is, but I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I can't. I need more distance between me and what happened down there. Can you understand that?"

Seven hesitated, then nodded. "I think so," she said slowly. "But Kathryn, I do not want you to keep things hidden. Not like you did before your memory loss."

"As soon as I'm ready to talk about this," Janeway said quietly. "I promise, it will be to you."

"That is not exactly what I mean," Seven said. "You sometimes refuse to speak to anyone at all. I do not think that would be a good thing in this case. You should not bury this, Kathryn. Please, if you cannot speak with me, then speak with someone. Do not hold it in."

Janeway considered that. "Is that what you think I do?" she asked.

"It is what you have done before," Seven explained. "During our time in the void, you isolated yourself in your quarters and did not speak to anyone. I do not think you ever dealt with whatever it was that was bothering you. You just put it in a dark place inside yourself and never mentioned it again. I am still not sure why you remained in your quarters for so long or what drove you there."

Janeway took a deep breath. "Sometimes there are things that should be kept to one's self," she said. "Especially when you are a captain."

Seven rested her forehead against the captain's. "Kathryn," she said softly. "If it were me who had gone through what you had, would you want me to keep what I was feeling in the aftermath to myself?"

Janeway closed her eyes. "No, I wouldn't," she said quietly.  She paused.  "I don't believe you fight fair."

"If I do not, it is from your example," Seven said gently.

"Then I taught you too well," Janeway whispered, a small smile on her face. She leaned her head back, looking up into Seven's concerned face. "All right. Maybe you have a point. I'll try."

"That is all I can ask," Seven said with a sense of relief.

She noted that the tub had finally finished filling and she picked Kathryn up again, lowering her into the water, hesitating as Janeway yelped a bit, allowing the captain to get used to the heat of the bath, lowering her the rest of the way only when she finally nodded. Then the Borg slipped in behind her, arranging herself around the captain's body. She picked up a sponge and began washing Janeway's shoulders and spine but Janeway pressed back against her instead, forestalling the soaping.

"Hold me, Annika," she whispered. "Please."

Seven promptly tossed the sponge aside and did so, wrapping her arms tightly around the smaller woman, kissing her temple gently. For long moments, they sat in the warm water which swirled about them, holding on and being held.

Slowly beginning to repair the wounds inside that the Doctor simply could not find, let alone heal.

Janeway woke in pitch darkness, her breath rasping in her ears, her heart pounding in her chest. She sat up abruptly, wondering where her clothes were, where she was, whether some loner was nearby. The presence of another next to her made her cry out and she flailed to escape, almost falling out of the bed.

"Lights, one quarter," Seven's concerned voice came from the dark. "Kathryn, it is all right. It was only a dream."

Janeway blinked in the sudden illumination, shivering as she hugged herself, trying to stop the panic which had risen in her like a wildfire. Seven was sitting on her side of the mattress, waiting until the captain had calmed a bit. A few nights earlier, Janeway had tagged the young woman with a solid right cross to the jaw during her nocturnal flailing and since then, Seven tended to keep her distance until she was sure Janeway was completely awake. The young woman placed her hand on the small of the captain's back, the warmth penetrating through Janeway's body with comforting familiarity.

"This is the fourth night in a row," Janeway rasped when she had finally regained her composure.

"The fifth," Seven corrected softly. "I do not know how to help you, Kathryn."

"I don't know that I can be helped," Janeway said, folding her arms on her drawn up knees and resting her chin on them, scared and uncertain. She took a breath. "If this was the Alpha Quadrant, I'd see a counselor. That's not possible here."

"And talking to me does not seem to help," Seven agreed quietly. She paused, searching for words. "Perhaps you were right."

Janeway glanced at her. "How so?"

Seven looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you do need distance," she said. "You spent the first three days debriefing the crew on what happened down in the prison, all your observations about the culture which has evolved there, then the past two have been spent discussing ways with Tuvok to make sure such a thing will not happen to any crewmember again. Every evening, after dinner, you also make an effort to talk to me about how you felt during your incarceration."

"You wanted me to," Janeway said in mild protest.

"I know," Seven said contritely. "Perhaps that was wrong. I appreciate you being so open with me, Kathryn, but it is possible that not discussing it any longer may also be the right thing to do. At the very least, it might allow you to sleep at night."

Janeway sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes. "I don't know what to think, anymore," she said.

"Then forget about this," Seven said. "For a time." She slid her hand up the captain's spine and rubbed her neck gently. "It hurts me to see you like this," she added.

"I know," Janeway said softly. Then her lips quirked and she favored Seven with a tiny grin. "You're the one taking all the punches."

"That was not what I was referring to," Seven replied primly but Janeway knew that the Borg had understood the attempt at humor.

Janeway shook her head ruefully and settled back into the bed, pressing against Seven who obligingly curled around her, her body warm and now a source of comfort rather than fear. The Borg brought the lights down once more and put her arm carefully across the captain's chest, resting her mesh covered hand lightly on Janeway's far shoulder.

Janeway felt the younger woman nuzzle her hair and she sighed, snuggling closer. "So what will we talk about instead, my love?" she asked idly in a low voice.

"Anything you wish," Seven told her, hugging her closely. "I hear Jake moving around in the outer room. Shall I bring him in?"

"No," Janeway said. "We've gotten in the habit of keeping him out there whenever we're in here at night. I think that's the way it should be. You know how he gets when we try to make love."

Seven started to say something, then seemed to think better of it and merely kissed her temple again.

Janeway sighed. "I know, we haven't for almost two weeks," she said. "Not since before it happened." She paused. "Does that bother you?"

"Only in the sense that it is indicative of your unease," Seven told her gently. "I know that you enjoy sexual interaction with me, that you find it pleasurable and 'fun'. We have not done anything that is 'fun' recently."

"No, we haven't," Janeway said with a touch of surprise. "We haven't played velocity, we haven't gone for a walk on the beach, we haven't gone on a picnic, we haven't made love. I just haven't ... well, felt like it. But maybe it's time I stopped letting this control my life and return to a normal existence."

"Can you do that?" Seven asked curiously. "It was a very difficult experience for you."

"Well, moping over it, wallowing in regret and misery about it happening in the first place certainly isn't doing any good," Janeway said. She rubbed her cheek against Seven's chin. "I know I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you," Seven assured her. She paused, then kissed the captain's temple. "But we can wait until you are ready. There is no rush."

"I'd rather you'd say my very presence is driving you insane and you can't wait for me any longer," Janeway said dryly.

"Your very presence is driving me insane and I cannot wait for you any longer," Seven said obediently. She paused. "If I cannot wait, what am I supposed to do?" she added in a puzzled tone.

Janeway laughed, feeling the corresponding smile against her cheek. "Well, there are quite a few people on the ship who would be willing to take my place," she noted.

"Perhaps," Seven allowed warmly. "But I would not be willing to accept anyone 'in your place'."

Janeway exhaled slowly, smiling, listing to the soft rhythm of her partner's respiration in her ear, soothing, warm. "I'm glad," she said softly. She reached up and hugged Seven's arm to her chest, pleased when the young woman slipped her long leg over her thighs, making her feel more secure and safe. "Make love to me," she added in a whisper, suddenly needing more than just to be held.

Seven brushed her lips over her brow. "I am on the wrong side," she noted.  "I must move over."

Janeway's smile faded. "You can use your left hand," she said quietly.

"That would be ... unwise," Seven said slowly.

Janeway held her breath. Was it? Was that really what she was afraid of, of this powerful being who had conquered where she had failed so utterly, that had slashed through the powerful alien groupings without remorse or hesitation? Was she afraid of this implant which turned so easily into a weapon at a mere thought? Would it ever been turned on her? Is this what she had to know before she could put this whole thing behind her?

All these questions flashed through her mind in an instant and she turned her face to look at her partner.  "You wouldn't hurt me," she said, taking a rein on her fear, grasping for the conviction she needed to bring an inner peace.

"I would not wish to," Seven responded. "But the structure of the mesh could damage any fragile tissue. It is metallic and completely unyielding."

"All right," Janeway said, understanding finally what Seven was saying. "But I do need to see your hand."

Seven sounded puzzled. "Why?"

"I just do," Janeway said with a sudden urgency. She reached over and took the hand in her own. "Lights, full," she requested as she sat up once more. She studied it intently in the sudden illumination. "Show me your assimilation tubules."

Seven hesitated, then suddenly two silvery tubes erupted from the back of her hand, wiggling obscenely like blind worms. Janeway forced herself not to cringe, feeling fear shoot through her though she knew it was irrational.

"May I touch them?" she asked in a suddenly shaky voice.

"If you wish," Seven said evenly. Clearly she did not understand what was happening but she was willing to go along with her partner.

Janeway caught the tubules in her palm, feeling them slither over her skin, then was startled when they curled around her hand and lay still. They were warm and to her surprise, quite dry, though very smooth. She examined them closely, looking at the ends in particular, chilled by the delicate boring drill bit that lay just inside, ready to operate once they were placed against the skin.

"All right," she said with forced calm. She shook them off and watched how they withdrew into the back of Seven's hand, leaving no trace of their existence. "Now show me the weapon you used in the prison."

The mesh along the inside of each of Seven's fingers suddenly blurred and raised, thinning to a fine edge which was serrated.

"It is not a weapon," Seven said quietly. She was propped up on her elbow, lying on her side, watching the captain with dark eyes.

"No?" Janeway said with disbelief.

"No, it is a tool designed to cut through cable and metal pipe," Seven explained. "I had not perceived its possible use as a weapon until recently. Until I became more Human than Borg."

Janeway nodded. "Point taken," she said, a muscle in her jaw twitching. She ran her thumb along the edge of Seven's index finger, feeling how sharp it was, how easily it could cut through flesh and bone if so desired. She swallowed hard and touched the inside of the palm where Seven's skin was smooth. "I know the flesh around your implants is numb. Can you feel me touching you?"

"My hand is different from my other implants," Seven explained as the blades altered once more, returning to the passive, metal bands. "The mesh is full of sensors and nodes which feeds into the nerve endings. It is, in its own way, more sensitive than my real hand."

Janeway stroked the palm. "Did I know that?" she asked, looking into her eyes.

"I do not know," Seven said. "I cannot remember ever discussing it with you." She raised an eyebrow. "Or you ever showing such an interest in it before."

Janeway nodded slowly. "I think that sometimes I take your Borg implants for granted, Annika," she said. "I forget how they make you different."

"Is that why you want me to be more Human?" Seven asked. "So I will no longer be 'different'?"

Janeway was startled. "Is that what I said?" she asked. "That's not what I meant. I love your differences."

Seven dropped her eyes. "I do not feel 'loved' at the moment," she said softly.

Janeway flushed, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said, bringing Seven's hand up so she could kiss the palm. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way, Annika." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "I was ... intimidated by the person who came to rescue me. I felt weak and helpless next to you."

Seven raised her eyes, surprise widening them. "You do not like to feel helpless," she said.

"No," Janeway admitted. "I don't. It frightens me."

"Do I ... frighten you?" Seven asked hesitantly.

"No, not you," Janeway said slowly but positively, thinking hard. "But I have a need to understand the things around me, Annika. It's why I followed the path of science and engineering in the beginning. Needing to comprehend and control technology is a part of me, but your implants are something I can never control or really understand. I can only trust in them. Sometimes that's hard for me. It's hard to trust that much."

Seven was silent for awhile. "When you saw the different things the implant could do," she said finally. "That reminded you of how different I am. Sometimes I believe that my implants are viewed as just artificial things that I will eventually shed the more Human I become, but some of them I can never lose, Kathryn. They are an integrated part of me. The mesh is not the implant, it is just a part of the entire structure which includes the biogenetic material attached to my wrist. My original hand was severed long ago."

"Oh my god," Janeway said, horror stricken. "I never realized ..."

"I understand that now," Seven said, sorrowfully. "Do you still want me to use it to make love to you?"

Janeway stared at her, suddenly aware of how much she did not know about her partner, and how much she had probably just hurt her with her ignorance. She blinked several times, feeling the tears sting the back of her eyes.

"Of course I do," she said huskily. "If it's part of you, Annika, then it's a part of who I love."

Seven glanced down at the implant cradled in Janeway's hands. "It could still hurt you," she reminded her softly.

"Then just switch hands when you get to any really fragile areas," Janeway whispered, bringing the implant up to her breast, pressing into it, feeling the nipple harden as it rasped against the smooth palm between the bands of metal. "I love you, Annika. All of you. I know you would never hurt me."

There was a sudden release within the captain, as if a band across her chest that she had not even known existed abruptly snapped, as if this was all she needed to realize, to understand. She bowed her head, realizing what she had lost sight of in all her trauma.

This hand could only protect and love her. It would never harm her.

Seven was drawn out of the warm cloud of slumber by fingertips roaming over her sides and belly, stroking her lovingly, by the moist warmth of a mouth feasting on her breasts. She lay suspended between dreams and reality, knowing who and what was causing such delightful sensations, but reluctant to wake fully. Kathryn was not in the habit of waking her this way often and Seven wanted it to last for as long as possible. But the captain must have sensed she was conscious, easing up to find the Borg's mouth, kissing her passionately, parting her lips with a flick of her tongue, then invading her with sweet intensity.

Seven made a soft sound in her throat, one of desire and pleasure, of open longing. When they had made love the night before, discovering just how far Seven could go with her implant, it had been more of a clinical exploration rather than an intimate one despite Janeway finally achieving orgasm. But afterward, the captain had fallen asleep and not stirred the rest of the night, resting easily in Seven's arms for the first time since her imprisonment.

"Mmm, what time is it exactly?" Seven murmured against the captain's lips.

"0700 hrs. I thought you had some sort of internal clock," Kathryn responded playfully and the Borg was charmed by the warm humor in the voice.

"Where would I keep one?" Seven asked.

"Here?" Kathryn laughed huskily, reaching down to flex her fingers intimately against her. "Or maybe here?"

"Neither," Seven told her primly. "But by all means, do continue to look for one."

Kathryn nipped playfully at her nose, then kissed her again, hotly. "Thank you for last night," she muttered. "I needed to do that. I know it wasn't that ... pleasurable for you."

It had been painful for Seven to realize that the captain had been frightened by the Borg's actions on the asteroid, that she had come to look at Seven differently than she had. Their discussion and experimental lovemaking had served to clear the air between them, however. Seven had noticed that since the injury which had cost her memories, Kathryn was far more open with her emotions and feelings, willing to discuss them in a way she had not before. That could be difficult to handle on occasion but it always turned out to be very rewarding in the long run. Seven felt that they had achieved a deeper level of trust and closeness, a new understanding of each other by peeling off yet another layer of their perception of each other.

"I understand, Kathryn," Seven responded softly. "I know that healing is not always physical."

Janeway smiled warmly at her. "Still," she said, returning to her lover's breasts, smoothing over them with her fingertips, kissing the nipples gently. "Let me make it up to you."

"What about our duty shift?" Seven whispered, finding it difficult to think clearly.

"I've logged us off today," Janeway explained. "Why, did you have someplace you need to be?"

"I was working on enhancing the shield harmonics before all this happened," Seven said. She jumped as Janeway tweaked her nipple gently but still hard enough to get her attention. She looked down to see the captain eyeing her with a touch of exasperation and Seven blinked at her. "But perhaps I can fit you in," she allowed with a wry smile.

"Fit me in?" Kathryn questioned. She raised an eyebrow and reached down between their bodies to where Seven was flooded with moisture, slipping easily inside the younger woman who gasped at the penetration. "Like this?"

"Oh yes, exactly like that," Seven replied breathlessly, her hips undulating as she pushed against the hand between her legs.

It felt so incredibly good to have Kathryn touch her so intimately, to feel those long, elegant fingers stroking her internally, finding the spots which generated such pleasure. Then Seven felt the captain's other hand worm its way down between them, and she caught her breath as she felt the fingertips brush over her anus, the captain carefully probing the puckered orifice. Seven spread her legs wider, allowing Kathryn greater access, moaning softly as the tip of Janeway's index finger slipped inside her, making her feel completely filled by her lover.

"Please, Kathryn," she begged shamelessly, her left hand groping for the metal bar fixed at the head of their bed. Her implant closed over it and it began to bend under her assault. "Use your mouth."

Seven felt her partner obligingly move from her breasts, trailing her lips over the younger woman's abdomen to her groin where the captain covered the hard little erection of flesh awaiting her. It throbbed, aching with desire and Seven cried out as Kathryn began to suck gently on it, using the tip of her tongue to flick the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth. At the same time, she felt Kathryn push even deeper inside, sliding into her with a gentle pressure as she stroked and flexed. It was not long before Seven felt the tremors that preceded orgasm though she tried hard to hold them off, tried to prolong the pleasure for as long as she could. It was an impossible task and she had to surrender, spasming helplessly as she arched beneath the loving caresses.

The pulsations ended far too quickly but she maintained a tight grip with her internal muscles, not wanting her partner to escape just yet. Kathryn seemed to understand and she kept her fingers still, gently kissing the swollen ridge of flesh which seemed suddenly too sensitive, causing Seven to jerk with every brush of the captain's lips. It took time before Seven could finally relax completely and Janeway lovingly withdrew from her, lingering over the process.

"Kathryn," Seven murmured. She opened her eyes to meet the amused and adoring gaze of her partner who had crawled up on top over her, covering her body with her soft weight. "You are so wonderful."

"You always say that," Kathryn responded though Seven could tell she was pleased by the assessment.

"You are always wonderful," Seven pointed out in a practical tone which pleased her partner even more.

Janeway smiled and leaned down, kissing her sweetly. "And you, my love, make my life worth living," she said softly. "You are my heart."

Seven hugged her, wrapping her arms around the slender form, wishing they could stay this way forever. She studied her partner's face, aware Kathryn was returning her scrutiny, a bemused expression on her face. "What?" she asked.

Janeway smiled a bit ruefully. "I guess I'm still getting used to your new hairstyle," she said.

"You said you liked it," Seven remarked. "Have you altered your opinion?"

Janeway frowned. "I'm not sure," she said honestly. "It really looks good when you're in uniform. In fact, I was never quite sure why you had long hair in the first place. It seemed so inefficient for you to have to put it up every day. But when we're like this, together in bed, I guess I'm used to seeing your hair spread over the pillow. I think I miss that."

"Then I shall request that the Doctor stimulate the follicles to regrow," Seven said promptly. "It should only take a day or two to return them to their previous length."

Janeway shook her head. "Darling, it doesn't matter what I think," she said. "It's what you prefer."

Seven considered that. "I have no opinion regarding it," she said. "The length of my hair is completely irrelevant to me."

"But isn't it easier to care for when it's short?" Janeway insisted.

"It is," Seven said, then paused, making sure she said this correctly so that Janeway would comprehend what she meant. "However, how I feel about the ease of its care is not adequately balanced by the pleasure I experience knowing you like my hair long. In that event, I would prefer to have long hair. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think I do," Janeway said softly. She kissed her gently on the nose. "How did I get so fortunate as to have someone like you in my life?"

"Is that a rhetorical question or does it require a response?" Seven asked.

Janeway smiled. "I don't think you can answer it," she said. "It just means that we both know I'm a lucky woman."

Seven hugged Janeway closer. "I will speak with the Doctor today," she said.

"There's no need to do anything immediately," Janeway objected softly. "Let's give it a week or so. Who knows, it may grow on me before it has to grow on you."

Seven paused, then pushed her up so she could stare at her. "Please tell me that was not intentional," she said.

Janeway smiled widely. "What, the pun?" she asked, completely unrepentant. "Would I do that?"

"Yes," Seven replied immediately which made Janeway laugh.

The captain's eyes were sparkling their warmest blue, something Seven had despaired of seeing again. It made the young woman's heart feel as if it would explode from sheer happiness and she reached up to capture Janeway's mouth, kissing her deeply. Janeway returned the kiss, surrendering to the passion Seven was feeling for her.

"Now, I believe it is my turn," the Borg told her in a low voice.

"Mmm, by all means, darling," Janeway whispered back against her lips. "I'm all yours, now and forever."

And Seven did, slowly, lovingly, with the utmost of tenderness, mindful of just how narrow this latest escape had been yet also knowing that somehow, some way, they had made it through again. And that they could put yet another challenge to their love in the past, looking eagerly to the future once more.

Together

Epilogue

Janeway lay on a towel in the soft sand, the warm sun beating down on her bare back which was covered only by the thin strings holding together the top of her slate-blue bikini. She wore dark glasses, tinted to shade her eyes from the brilliance of the sparkles off the azure water and her head was tilted slightly as she took in the sights and sounds of the oceanfront. She was propped up on her elbows, watching her partner splashing among the waves with B'Elanna. Seven was attempting to teach the Klingon how to body surf and not having a particularly successful time with it. Perhaps because the Klingon physiology was denser and heavier than Human so Torres tended to sink more times than she floated. Janeway tried not to laugh as Seven was forced for the fifth time to fish around below the surface to haul the sputtering, choking engineer out of the sea.

Further down the beach, other crewmembers were taking advantage of the captain's holo-program as well as her designation of this day for R&R. While Tuvok supervised the bridge, the rest of the senior staff had gathered here to play.  She had realized that it wasn't only Seven and herself that had needed to recover from their ordeal, that the ship and crew had also been under a great deal of stress and now that they had reached a more peaceful area of space, it was the perfect time for them all to kick back and relax a little.

She glanced over and saw a sand castle being constructed by Neelix and Naomi as Samantha looked on fondly. Jake was romping around them, preventing them from making much progress, crashing through their work at regular intervals. Janeway wondered if she would ever get used to the sight of the Talaxian in swim trunks.

Beyond them, Tom Paris and Harry Kim were chatting up the Delaney sisters, both young men looking lean and tanned, all four talking and laughing easily, reflecting the mood of the crew, the sense that the ship was once more on course and intact.  On some rocks in the distance, she could see the solitary form which was her first officer, no doubt brooding on the events of the past month, including his recent breakup with Lt. Torres.  The captain decided she was going to have to do something about that.

Janeway drew a deep breath and felt a thread of happiness weave itself through her, strengthening and firming her sense of self. It had been difficult, but somehow she and Seven had found a way through. They always seemed to and for now, she was more than content to rely on that sense of assurance, to feel as if nothing in the universe could stop them as long as they were together.

Smiling, she got to her feet, dropping the glasses on the towel and striding for the water's edge. Perhaps a command presence would help B'Elanna realize that the board she was using was suppose to go below her rather than be held in front of her like a shield to battle the waves.

And that Seven was not really attempting to drown her.

The End

•  This is the 13th in the Just Between series.  I have no idea how many more will show up in this series but honestly, I don't see any end in the foreseeable future.  Thanks to all my readers for their thoughtful comments, feedback and encouragement.  Not to mention their titles. ; )

• This story was written and posted around the last of January, 1999. After Nothing Human.

Just Between Dreams
G. L. Dartt

The rock face was rough against her back, jabbing through the layers of sweater and tunic as beneath her feet, the ledge barely supported her. A wind, chill and damp, whipped through her like the sharp edge of a knife, penetrating her body, weakening her desperate grip on the precarious handholds. She took a breath and tried to press closer to the cliff side as she looked up, blinking against the icy rain that drove into her upturned face.

The cliff rose perpendicular to her, disappearing into the grey mists of cloud looming above which flashed with hidden lightning. A glance down saw sheer rock plunge to unseen depths which glowed with an eerie crimson tinge. Directly across from her, too far to jump, there was another ledge, and a wooden door, framed by stone carvings, alien and unrecognizable. She knew she had to get over there, knew she had to get through the door somehow though the why was an absolute mystery to her.

There was the sound of moving rock and she looked down, horrified to see the ledge starting to crumble beneath her. Pebbles and fragments dropped off, disappearing into the glowing depths without any sound to indicate they ever landed. Her footing began to give and she scrabbled helplessly against the unforgiving stone, splintering her nails on the granite, crying out as she began to fall.

Spiraling down to a horror that seemed far worse than death.

Captain Kathryn Janeway woke abruptly, heart racing as the sweat suddenly dried on her body, chilling her as she rose onto her elbows, staring blankly into the night. She swallowed hard, trying to understand where she was, listening breathlessly to the sounds around her, the steady hum of her ship's warp drive, the whisper of the air recycle system, the soft respiration of the body lying in the bed next to her. She felt the pounding of her pulse gradually slow, and she looked over at her peacefully sleeping companion, seeking out the beloved features of her partner in the shadowed illumination of the night watch lights lining the window which loomed over the head of the bed.

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, was a imposing young woman with blonde hair and eyes the color of bluish ice. Formidable when she was at her full six foot height, she seemed somewhat more innocent and childlike when lost in slumber. A metallic grey implant framed her left eye while a small starburst adorned her right cheek, stark reminders of her time as a drone. She was laying on her back, her face turned slightly away from Janeway, her right hand laying palm up by her head, elbow at right angles to her body while her left hand, covered in a mechanical mesh, rested on top of the blankets, across her abdomen. Her lean, lanky body sprawled the length of the bed, taking up a good portion of the mattress.

Janeway had read somewhere that this was called the 'royal' position, that the person who slept in such a way was strong and unafraid, with a sense of self assurance bordering on the arrogant ... as a king or queen might, hence the name. That described her partner quite well, though it left out the gentle and loving nature or the warm heart that lay beneath the cool exterior.

The captain wondered why Seven had not woke when she had, especially when she considered the Borg's enhanced senses which tended to alert the young woman to the slightest unusual sound. Then the captain realized that her nightmares had become such a regular occurrence over the last little while, happening with such frequency, that Seven had apparently adapted to Janeway's nocturnal struggles and now slept through them. Sighing soundlessly, Janeway moved closer and lay her head down carefully on the young woman's shoulder, snuggling lightly against the warm body. She didn't know if she should feel gratified or guilty when Seven suddenly stirred, gathering herself in as she slid her left arm beneath the captain's torso and turning her head to rest her cheek on top of the captain's auburn hair. Janeway hadn't meant to disturb her partner but she could not deny that the embrace was a soothing source of comfort, making it easier to push the nightmare away.

She huddled against Seven, pressing her face into the soft hollow of the young woman's neck, smelling the Borg's delightful fragrance while she rested her hand on the smooth slope of her chest. Janeway slipped her leg across the younger woman's groin, feeling the tickle of the thin thatch of blonde hair against her inner thigh as she brushed over it. Seven's body heat was like a fire in a hearth, welcoming her in from a winter's night, chasing away the chill and loneliness, surrounding her with a sense of home and belonging.

"Kathryn?" Seven murmured softly.

"Mmm, bad dream," Janeway whispered back, not wanting to go into it. "Sorry I woke you."

"S' right," Seven said and the captain knew the young woman must be drowsy indeed to be speaking in such a slurred manner; totally unlike her normal, crisp, defined tones where each word was precisely enunciated.

Janeway closed her eyes and tried to reclaim some sleep before morning watch, annoyed by these constant nightmares which had plagued her the past few weeks. She knew they were most likely a result of her recent imprisonment, the aftermath of being brutalized in an alien penitentiary before Seven had managed to rescue her. She also knew that the subconscious disturbances were probably very much a part of her healing process, but she regretted profoundly the sleep she was missing. It was hard enough for a starship captain to get enough rest at the best of times, let alone a captain in the position she was in, with her ship stranded in the Delta Quadrant, 40,000 light years away from the Federation and Starfleet. 40 years at high warp away from home.

She found she was pressing closer to Seven, profoundly grateful for the sensation of the young woman's body against her. It occurred to the captain that to be able to reach out in the dead of night for this beloved form, to feel the comfort of its arms drawing her into their sheltering embrace, made the difficulties in her life a whole lot easier to bear. Janeway could not remember what it had been like in those early years before Seven's arrival, before she had developed a relationship with the young woman, nor was this was not entirely due to the fact that an injury a few months earlier had cost her  memories stretching back three years. It was just that she could no longer imagine how she had ever coped with all the challenges and problems of command without Seven being right there beside her, without the young woman being such an integral part of her life. Janeway rubbed her cheek gently against the silk smooth skin, and felt a peacefulness seep over her, forcing aside the uneasiness the nightmare had generated.

She felt Seven's right hand quietly slip beneath the covers to reach down to the captain's leg, lightly rubbing her fingertips back and forth along the outside muscle without any particular intent. Janeway's lips twitched, a sleepy smile curling the corners of her mouth. It was not entirely serious on Seven's part, the captain knew. If she did not respond, or if she surrendered to the slumber which had seemed so desirable only a few moments earlier, the caress would eventually slow and stop as Seven herself fell asleep once more. Instead however, Janeway pressed her leg gently down against the Borg's groin, letting her partner know that while she wasn't all that enthusiastic about where these caresses could lead, she wasn't entirely adverse to them continuing either.

Janeway felt the metal tips of Seven's left hand press into the small of her back, circling gently in a soothing manner that nonetheless, pulled the captain ever closer to her. Janeway shifted a little, pressing her mound against Seven's hip, the tender inner lips parting to allow her moist flesh to press silkily against the protrusion of bone and warm skin. Seven responded by running her right hand along Janeway's buttock, then up along her side and rib cage, still very slow and lazy; not passionate exactly, but very gentle and loving.

Janeway slipped her left hand beneath the blankets, resting it on the muscled plane of the Borg's stomach. Her thumb stroked lightly along the faint trace of scars, the only reminder of Seven's abdominal implant which had been removed after being assimilated not so long ago.  She loved the feel of Seven's silky smooth skin and she suckled at her lover's neck, biting gently against the vein that throbbed beneath her lips

Seven's lips brushed across her forehead, the tender touch moving along her hairline and Janeway raised her face to it, seeking out the kiss that trailed down her nose, accepting the connection of Seven's mouth over her own with a profound sort of gratitude.  The full, expressive lips pressed against hers and the captain made a soft sound in her throat, loving, happy. She shivered as the hand on her rib cage slipped fingertips along the underside of her breast, stroking the side casually. Janeway pulled back a little to grant greater access, a ripple of pleasure going through her as Seven idly rubbed the back of her knuckles over the nipple which reacted to the caress with small tingles of delight.

It was still so wonderfully lazy, still halfway between desire and relaxation, between the escalation to physical joining or the slide into welcoming slumber. It could so easily go either way at this point. Rest or restoration ... such a difficult decision yet both so incredibly healing in their own way.

"Kathryn," came the whisper out of the darkness. A name, but a benediction as well, the word uttered with such love that Janeway felt her heart thump almost painfully in her chest.

Questioning.

"Darling," the captain replied quietly, the soft acknowledgment of her lover, her voice a throaty trill. "Oh, yes."

Seven turned her hand, taking the velvet soft nipple between her forefinger and thumb, rolling it gently between them, the flesh hardening sweetly in response and Janeway knew she had made the right choice. She smiled and she let her breath out in a slow exhalation, pressing tighter to Seven, feeling the hip grow slippery beneath her and knowing it was her moisture causing it. So much moisture and Janeway laughed deep and low, too warm all of a sudden, the last lingering coldness from the nightmare dissipating without a trace.

More kisses now, so deep, shattering, openly desiring, and incredibly intense while Seven's hand firmly massaged the captain's breast, squeezing it gently. Janeway gladly lost herself in the sensation, absorbed herself in the touch and taste of her partner, the silky sweetness of her, the utter devotion and passion from her. Seven shifted to her side to roll them both over and the captain found herself being pressed down against the mattress, the weight of the younger woman covering her, making her feel loved and secure.

Janeway ran her hands restlessly over the smooth skin of Seven's back and shoulder blades, stroking the bumpy ridges of spine, aware of the full breasts falling over hers while Seven positioned herself to allow her hand to caress the captain freely. Janeway's head fell back as Seven tangled her fingers in the auburn triangle at the juncture of her thighs while the Borg kissed along her neck, her lips against her throat then up over her jaw to her ear.

"Spread your legs," Seven requested softly, in a whisper that thrilled all the way through Janeway, making her tremble weakly as she obeyed.

The captain caught her breath as she felt the gentle touch of Seven's fingertips slide along the crease, dipping into the wetness before finding the sensitive ridge of flesh, fondling it with tender insistence. She spread her legs wider, bringing her knee up to allow Seven in, the Borg's fingers slipping into her so very easily.

"I'm so wet," Janeway murmured.

"You are," Seven whispered. "An indication of arousal."

"Oh yes," Janeway hissed. "You do that to me, love. I want you so much."

She gasped for breath as her hips began to move against the hand which had penetrated her, touching inside so deeply now, as far as Seven's fingers could reach before the young woman withdrew, searching for the spot.

"Uh ... no, love ... wait ..." Janeway protested, swallowing hard. "I want you all the way in."

Seven hesitated, then pushed her two long fingers inside once more, flexing against the smooth walls as her thumb rasped over Janeway's tender nodule, slippery with lubrication, allowing Janeway the time to savor and appreciate the pleasure. Both were keenly aware that once Seven found that particular spot just an inch or so inside Kathryn and began to caress it, the whole experience would be over rather quickly.

Quite wonderfully, mind you, but very quickly.

Janeway didn't want it to be so fast and intense this particular instance, she wanted to enjoy the sensation of Seven inside her, to linger over the fingers which pressed inside her, which stroked ever deeper to touch her most intimate and internal places.

Janeway's head fell back as she squeezed, setting up a regular pulsation with her interior muscles which Seven fell into with a countering flex which increased the pleasure steadily and slowly. The captain's breath came in abrupt pants, little choked sounds of delight, loving what the young woman was doing to her, how Seven was finding exactly the right rhythm to draw the experience out.

This was slower, but in its own way, a much hotter experience for the captain ... and certainly required more physical expenditure. Janeway  trembled, driving her hips against the gentle hand, undulating with an effort that brought beads of sweat to her brow, covered her entire body with a slick sheen of perspiration. Then, finally, she was there, hovering for a timeless instant on the brink before gladly leaping off this ledge, tumbling into the orgasm with a joyful cry.

Seven held her tightly, kissing her as the spasms finally ceased and Janeway relaxed under the weight of her lover, needing that strength on top of her.

"Oh Annika," Janeway whispered, feeling drained and completely sated. "You are so good to me."

"I love pleasuring you, Kathryn," Seven replied softly, moving over her. "Now lie back."

Seven straddled her partner, opening herself up to press against Janeway's leg and the captain raised it in response, feeling the damp, hot flesh skid over the top of her thigh with delicious pressure. She was grateful that Seven seemed willing to do all the work tonight though she did feel a tinge of guilt as well as she looked up at Seven move energetically back and forth over her. She rested her hands on Seven's hips, helping her push until the Borg braced herself with her arms to either side of Janeway's body and threw her head back, gasping for air, rocking steadily, then quicker, harder, surging against the captain's leg. Janeway stroked the muscled thighs, encouraging her with her fingertips, with her eyes, trying to communicate her love and desire.

"Yes, my darling," she said, deliberately making her voice as deep and throaty as possible. "Come for me."

Seven did, her own cry catching in her throat as she arched and shuddered, then finally relaxed, sinking down onto Janeway who kissed her lovingly, soothingly. For an instant, Seven's entire weight rested on the captain, then she managed to get her elbows under her to support her much denser mass. They remained where they were for long moments as Seven tried to catch her breath and Janeway gently stoked her back, idly wondering how such a lazy beginning had turned into such a physical encounter.

"Kathryn," Seven said finally, quietly, intently. "I love you."

"Oh darling, you are my heart," Janeway replied sincerely, nuzzling her.

The ritual, but still heartfelt words spoken, Janeway clung to Seven as the younger woman settled onto her side, carrying the captain with her until they were lying side by side, face to face, snuggled together in the center of the bed. Janeway smiled with sleepy satisfaction as she cuddled within the embrace, feeling very loved and secure, drowsiness stealing over her with an irresistible lure. Then she groaned as the lights went up to signify morning watch and the computer's even feminine tones recited the time.

"No," she muttered. "Not yet..."

"We still have thirty minutes," Seven reminded her quietly. That had been a recent addition at Janeway's request, altering the computer to wake them at 0530 rather than 0600, giving them an extra bit of time to cuddle in the morning.

"I know," Janeway replied. "But it's not long enough to go back to sleep."

"No, it is not," Seven agreed. She reached up and stroked her partner's cheek. "Are you really so tired?" she asked with concern.

Janeway buried her face against Seven's neck, snuggling into that warm hollow. "I'm just going to have to make a point of going to bed earlier," she mumbled fretfully.

"No, what you are going to do is make an appointment to see the Doctor," Seven said firmly.

That woke up the captain and Janeway drew back, eyeing her narrowly. "Excuse me?"

Seven did not back down. "You promised me that you would take care of yourself," she said sternly. "You have been going to bed at a regular time, more than early enough to afford you a proper period of sleep. Since you are not rested, clearly something is wrong. Therefore, a appointment with the Doctor is in order."

Janeway tried not to sigh. "Darling, I feel perfectly fine," she began.

"Then you would be rested," Seven countered stubbornly. "Now will you make an appointment voluntarily, or shall I make one for you, pick you up and carry you through the ship to sickbay?"

Janeway's eyes widened and she regarded Seven closely, trying to judge how serious the young woman was. Unfortunately, from the love and concern in her eyes, it was quite apparent Seven was more than willing to carry out such a threat. To the Borg, this clearly was a matter involving their relationship as opposed to their interaction as captain and crew. Janeway held a lot less authority in that dynamic, much to her great chagrin.

"All right," Janeway agreed, rather crankily. "I'll see the Doctor."

"Good," Seven said softly. She lowered her eyes. "I worry about you."

Abashed, Janeway kissed her. "I know," she said in a gentler tone. "Even though I don't think anything is wrong."

She rested her head on Seven's shoulder, hugging the lanky torso.

"It was just a dream, sweetheart. I have them all the time."

The ledge crumbled and she fell, screaming defiance all the way, arms and legs twisting, attempting to strike out at this unseen foe who had brought her here. The air was cold and the wind battered at her body then the mist cleared and she was able to see what caused the eerie red glow, what awaited her plummeting body.

She screamed once more ... this time with fear.

B'Elanna Torres woke in a panic, thrashing in the bedcovers, sending the sheets scattering across her bedroom. For a moment, she didn't know where she was and she sat upright, heart pounding, the sweat beading on her forehead, running down the Klingon ridges to slip off the end of her rather pert nose to drip onto her cleavage.

She took several deep breaths and checked the time. 0500. Too early for morning watch, too late to try to go back to sleep. She rolled out of bed with a muffled curse and went into her ensuite, programming the sonic shower to high, slipping out of her nightgown before stepping irritably into the vibration. Once she was finished, she dressed in a fresh uniform, the black and gold of Starfleet covering her stocky form in a way that lent it stature and granted her a self assurance she did not always feel outside of her engine room.

Restless, she left her quarters and headed for the messhall. Though the ship's replicator system was now fully back on line and Neelix tended to spend more time in security than in his kitchen, it still remained the main gathering area for the crew, a place to relax and share food, regardless of whether it was some alien dish prepared in the kitchen or something more familiar from the large replicators. B'Elanna did not want to be alone at the moment, feeling a need to be with others. And an unmistakable craving for her grandmother's banana pancakes.

However, the messhall was mostly empty at this time of the morning and she had to search the room before seeing Lt. Harry Kim sitting in a shadowed corner, working over several padds and a big mug of coffee.

"Hey Starfleet," she greeted after retrieving her breakfast from the replicator and a mug of coffee for herself from the ever present pot perking in the kitchen. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure, B'Elanna," he said, eyeing her uncertainly.

The Klingon couldn't figure out why he was looking at her so strangely, then remembered that she had been less than approachable to him recently ... ever since he had defended Angela James in a court martial. B'Elanna had not spoken to him for weeks afterward and then, only when she had to. But she was lonely and the fact was, prior to his accepting the saboteur's case, they had been pretty good friends.

"Can't you sleep?" she asked awkwardly.

He shrugged. "Just restless I guess," he admitted. He seemed to be having a certain amount of difficulty looking her in the eye.

She wondered if he wanted her to apologize for her ignoring him which was something she was not quite prepared to do. After all, he was the one who chose to defend a woman whose crimes included trying to murder the Chief Engineer on several occasions, as well as setting the explosive which had cost the captain her memories. Not to mention stealing a runabout with Voyager's latest experimental slipstream drive. The subsequent destruction of the Mississippi had set back considerably their research and progress in finding a propulsion system that would shorten their return journey. If Voyager shooting down the runabout hadn't killed the woman, B'Elanna thought she most certainly would have.

Though she tried not to say those sort of things out loud anymore.

"What are you doing?" she asked instead.

"I was working on the slipstream drive," he said, and pushed over a padd. "I think if we can just alter the shield harmonics enough, we can coast on the slipstream wave rather than try to fly inside the conduit."

She studied the small screen. "You mean like surfing?" she said.

He tried to control the grin that appeared. It was well known on the ship that the Klingon had been attempting to learn body surfing recently and having very poor results. Not that it was noteworthy other than the fact that she had accused Seven of trying to drown her on three separate occasions in loud outrage well within earshot of the engineering crew. Those sort of comments tended to take on a life of their own in the lower decks where the tedium was only sporadically broken by periods of sheer terror and the crew was having a humorous time deciding what would finally take precedence, Seven's ability to teach or B'Elanna's inability to learn. Actual bets had been laid on the outcome.

"Something like that," he said. "I think that would take away the damage we're getting in the integrity fields."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It could work," she allowed. "We'll have to run simulations."

He paused. "I was going to run some this morning in Holodeck two," he admitted.

"Want some company?" she asked.

He blinked. "Of course," he said, somewhat eagerly and B'Elanna realized that he had been feeling isolated from the crew recently, aware that she wasn't the only one who had been less than thrilled with his choices. Now she found she was regretting her rather harsh attitude.

"Listen, I have a departmental meeting first thing, but we can meet around 1100," she offered.

"All right," he agreed. There was another pause and he seemed to be searching for something to say. "Uh, so what got you up so early?" he asked.

She frowned, a little reluctant to explain, feeling as if she was being silly and overreacting. But before she knew it, she was explaining the dream to him, of being stuck on the rock ledge, of the cliff and the door.

"So what do you think is behind the door?" he asked, regarding her seriously.

She shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "I only know I have to get over to it somehow."

"Well, if you dream it again, take some rope along," he suggested. Then at her expression, added, "I mean, if you recognize the situation, you'll know you're dreaming and you'll be able to control it, right?"

Uncharacteristically, B'Elanna felt a shiver go down her back.

"I don't want to dream it again," she said honestly.

He seemed startled by her intensity and he studied her quizzically. "It was just a dream, wasn't it?" he asked keenly.

She took a breath. "Sure," she said grimly, picking up her fork to finish the pancakes that she really didn't want anymore for some reason.

"It was only a dream." Tuvok sat cross-legged on the deck of his quarters, his slim form held perfectly erect as his dark eyes centered on the tiny flame flickering from the gilded meditation lamp.  He was utilizing strict Vulcan mental regimes to resume control over his swirling thoughts, to regain discipline over his emotions.

It was a fallacy that Vulcans did not have emotions. In truth, their emotions were firmly repressed, channeled into logical paths from a very early age. So, after having existed over a hundred years with Vulcan disciplines controlling his life, it was fairly disturbing for him to suddenly require the most elementary of lessons to regain his composure.

To his great displeasure, he discovered he was now as uncertain as he had been as a youth, embarking on his first mental exercises. He supposed this was a result of the past few months, of his dissatisfaction with his recent performance as Voyager's security chief. On his watch not only had the captain been seriously injured, but the perpetrator had managed to escape, stealing a runabout from a supposedly secure hanger deck. Not to mention Lt. Harry Kim's spirited defense in a court martial that Tuvok, as prosecution, should have dominated. Had Angela James not pre-empted the eventual outcome by making a break for it, the dark-skinned Vulcan with the elegantly pointed ears would have been hard pressed to postulate a favorable outcome on his behalf.

Were the security chief Human, he would have been tremendously humiliated. As it was, he found it increasingly disconcerting to think about the events, unable to view them with his customary dispassionate manner. He certainly knew he was having difficulty being in the captain's presence, aware that he had let her down in the most profound of ways despite the fact that she made every indication that she had forgiven him any mistakes he might have made, any flaws that he had displayed.

Which embarrassed him even further. Mortified at his lapse, he had initially reacted by trying to control all the external influences, increasing training and drills for all his security teams, lengthening his own sessions of physical workouts and martial art programs considerably, driving himself as hard as he did his people. He had gone over the computer security protocols with level five diagnostics and had generally made it known that any further lapses in diligence within his department would be severely dealt with.

Yet, despite all that, he felt it wasn't enough, that he had not achieved a proper level of adequacy.

After all, a mere dream should not have shredded his emotional discipline so easily. Should not have left him feeling so afraid. Should not have made him bolt out of his slumber with a terrified cry.

Clearly, he required more work, more meditation, more discipline.

More control. Captain Janeway glanced up from her computer console as the door hissed open. She had returned to her cabin after her checkup with the doctor, deciding to serve out her shift at her work station in her own quarters.  The dual desks set back to back against the wall opposite the hull windows afforded her a sense of Seven's presence that her ready room did not.  It bothered her that the Doctor could find nothing physically wrong with Janeway, nor could he explain away the dream, other than suggesting that it was just one more nightmare in the host of others that she had to face in order to regain her sense of self after her ordeal in the alien prison.  The captain was irritated by the fact that she was not recovering quicker but she knew she would just have to adjust, and not let it affect her too much.  At the same time, however, Janeway felt a need to be in more secure surroundings, needed to be home where the feeling of Seven wrapped around her like the scented waters of a warm bath.

The captain's chair was positioned to give her a clear view of the door, though anyone walking in would not see her immediately. The ship's only child, Naomi Wildman, certainly did not as she entered after her daily play session with the captain's Irish Setter puppy, Jake.  It afforded the captain  the opportunity to study the youngster for a moment or so before Naomi became aware that she wasn't alone.

The youngling was a Katarian on her father's side, small bone flares running down the middle of her forehead to the bridge of her nose. Other than that, however, she favored her mother, with Ensign Samantha Wildman's Human looks in the long, strawberry hair and bright blue eyes. She had been born during Voyager's first year of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, her conception having occurred on Deep Space Nine just prior to their mission to the Badlands but though she was only five, Katarians matured quicker than Humans and as a result, she appeared and acted almost eight.

A shy expression crossed her face when she saw Janeway sitting at her desk and she tried to stand very straight, hands linked behind her back, very reminiscent of a certain Borg astrometrics officer. Janeway carefully hid her smile.

"Miss Wildman," she said formally.

"Captain," Naomi replied respectfully. "I apologize for disturbing you. I did not realize you would be home or I would have requested admittance."

The little girl had always presented a fairly confident manner around the captain, less intimidated by the woman who commanded the starship where she lived than others in the crew.  However, recently Janeway had become aware that the child's intention was to become her bridge assistant and to that end, Naomi had enlisted Seven's help. Despite the Borg's initial uncertainty, the pair had ended up developing a remarkably close friendship, one that alternately surprised and amused the captain. Janeway had also been truly impressed by the little girl's discipline in tackling all the tasks and studies Seven had given her, occasionally wishing that some of her real Starfleet officers would display such an utter dedication to duty.  Certainly it seemed to have made the child a lot more self confident around the captain.

"Normally, I wouldn't be home at this time," Janeway assured her. She patted Jake who had promptly loped over to her, pushing his head onto her lap as she scratched him lavishly behind the ears. "Did this guy behave himself today?"

"He conducted himself adequately," Naomi replied smartly.

Janeway kept her attention centered on the dog until she was sure she wasn't going to laugh. The child was so completely serious that it would not do for the captain to let on she found Naomi's attitude lately ... well, absolutely adorable. Possible because it was Seven being imitated so well with the child's lack of contractions, and the advanced vocabulary she was beginning to display.

"I'm glad," Janeway murmured finally. She looked up, regarding the child with an interested expression. "So how have your studies been coming?"

Naomi brightened and moved closer, apparently thrilled that the captain was engaging her in conversation rather than dismissing her immediately. "Very well, Captain," she said, eyeing the desk covertly as well as Janeway's computer console, obviously trying to see what the older female was up to. "May I ask what you're working on? Is it a tactical program?"

Janeway allowed herself a small smile as she turned the screen to the child's view. "Nothing so exciting I'm afraid," she told her. "A captain's life includes a lot of paper work. These are departmental reports from Engineering. "

"I see," Naomi said seriously, studying the screen intently as if she actually understood what she was looking at.

Janeway's lips twitched. Perhaps she did, she told herself in amusement. After all, Seven is a remarkably patient teacher, and the child is very bright. The captain leaned back in her chair and picked up her coffee mug, taking a sip. She noted that Naomi's eyes followed her avidly, carefully absorbing all the captain's mannerisms and Janeway had to fight the sudden urge to straighten up and appear more dignified, aware that she had her tunic unfastened to hang negligently open, revealing the somewhat wrinkled slate-blue sweater.  Which, horror of horrors, wasn't even tucked in.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Is that coffee?" Naomi asked eagerly. "I'll have some of that."

Janeway's eyebrow quirked. "Yes, it is coffee," she said dryly. "But I doubt that your mother would approve of me giving you any."

"But you're the captain," Naomi noted guilelessly. "If you wanted to share ..."

Janeway laughed as she got up to go to the replicator. "When it comes to things like this, mothers always outrank captains," she told her, programming in some instructions. "How about some fruit juice instead?"

"Thank you, captain," the child responded dutifully though it was clear she was disappointed that she wouldn't be allowed to participate in the captain's most well known vice. "Mango, cherry and grapefruit, please."

Janeway managed to stifle her wince at the combination and keyed in the flavors, picking up the small glass full of the reddish juice which materialized on the small tray. She carried it over and gave it to the child who accepted it with polite thanks.

"Actually, Miss Wildman," the captain said as she resumed her seat. "I've been meaning to speak with you."

"You have?" Naomi said, surprised and a little apprehensive suddenly.

"Yes," Janeway replied. "It's come to my attention that you've been training for the position of my bridge assistant."

"Seven says that no such position exists," Naomi said honestly, if a bit reluctant to bring that to the captain's attention. She very carefully placed her glass on Seven's work station and granted Janeway her full attention.

"She's absolutely correct," Janeway replied, clamping down on her amusement. "However, in the Delta Quadrant, we've been forced to adapt and create a great many positions as required by Voyager. After all, most ships do not carry cooks or native guides, yet Neelix has admirably fulfilled both roles prior to his becoming a security officer."

"That's true," Naomi agreed eagerly.

Janeway assumed a properly serious expression. "I'm curious, Naomi," she said. "What do you expect to be doing as my bridge assistant?"

"I would look after any tasks that you're too busy to do," Naomi said promptly.

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, you could," she allowed. "There's the matter of getting reports to the department heads, handling any memos from them, seeing that my ready room is always ready and that my dog is properly exercised." She paused. "You're already performing that last duty."

"Yes, captain," Naomi said proudly. Then she looked a little anxious. "I have been acceptable, haven't I?"

Janeway honestly did not know how she was keeping a straight face through all this. "You have been most exceptionable," she assured her gravely. "Obviously, it's time for us to make your role a little more official." She leaned forward, removing a pip from her own collar and affixing it to the child's. "Naomi Wildman, I am assigning you to the position of Captain's Bridge Assistant. There will be a list of duties placed in your personal computer during a regular rotation of duty shift. Are you ready for this responsibility?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Naomi said smartly, straightening to her best parade attention.

Janeway stifled her grin and relaxed in her chair, linking her fingers across her abdomen as the child beamed at her, feeling absurdly pleased with herself for having indulged the youngster this way.

"As you were," Janeway said smoothly. "Now, why don't you have a seat and explain where exactly you are in your studies. If you're free at the moment, of course."

"I am at the captain's discretion," Naomi replied promptly.

Janeway wondered where she had gotten that particular phrase from. It certainly wasn't from Seven, she though wryly, considering her partner's occasional rebellious attitude to the command structure.

"Then please, have a seat," Janeway said, motioning her to the chair in the living area. She took her coffee along as she positioned herself comfortably on the couch. Jake took the opportunity to leap up beside her and plop his head on her lap, sighing gustily and she favored him with an indulgent expression as she rested her hand on his silky fur.

Naomi proceeded to explain her most recent lessons in biology, astrometrics and mathematics with precise and extensive detail while Janeway listened attentively. She made a mental note that the child was not mentioning any literary or art courses and that the lack should be addressed. The captain remembered that she herself, had not been particularly interested in those subjects when she had been Naomi's age, but she had been forced by her parents to broaden her horizons nonetheless, and had been suitably grateful for it as an adult. She realized that there were few people on her ship who were more skilled in the arts rather than the sciences ... it was a starship after all ... but she would have to find someone to teach Naomi in the non-scientific areas. Perhaps Leonardo from her da Vinci holo-program.

Naomi paused briefly, looking at the captain closely. "I think Seven was incorrect," she said suddenly.

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," she said, not knowing where this was going.

"Yes, she said that you were uncomfortable with children," Naomi said with disarming honesty. "But you don't seem that way at all."

Janeway wondered how and when Seven had come to such a conclusion ... not that it was entirely inaccurate. The captain got along with children quite nicely, but only by treating the child in question as an alien lifeform with its own set of protocols, utilizing her diplomatic skills as much as possible.

"I don't have much opportunity to interact with children," she admitted, matching the child's openness. "So it's a skill I've not really developed."

"You'll have to learn," Naomi went on, blithely unaware that this was probably not the sort of conversation she should be engaging in with the captain. "I heard Mom telling Neelix that Seven wants to have children. How can you and Seven make a baby?" she asked innocently.

Janeway blinked. Suddenly this had gotten very awkward. "Uh, well," she temporized.

However, Naomi was continuing on without a pause and Janeway suddenly understood that what she thought the child was asking was in fact, far too limited for this very intellectually gifted daughter of a science officer like Samantha Wildman.

"Obviously genetic material will have to be removed from one of you and placed into an egg in the other," the young girl explained. "However, without the XY chromosome to trigger conception, isn't that actually cloning? Or are you going to get a donor from one of the male members of the crew to add their genetic matrix to the egg? If not, you'll only be limited to female children since you would only have the XX chromosomes to work with. And which of you intend to carry the fetus to term? Or are you going to germinate it in a generation tube?"

Janeway tried to remember if she had been at this level in reproductive biology at Naomi's age. Come to think of it, she was barely at that level now, being woefully uninformed regarding any future plans of marriage and children that she and Seven may have decided on. She understood that they had probably discussed such things at one time or another but she was unable to remember any conversations pertaining to it. It was times like this when she felt the loss of her memories most keenly.

She took a breath. "I'm sure the Doctor will be able to solve any possible problems," she said, as noncommittedly as possible.

Naomi nodded cheerfully. "You're right, I'll ask him," she said.

Janeway wished she could listen in on that conversation. Then she thought about it and decided that she would rather be left in the dark about it. It was bad enough that she had just been left in the dust by a five year old, and she'd be prostrate with embarrassment if she wasn't so damned amused. There was no doubt in her mind that it was time to change the subject.

"Have you seen Flotter recently?" she asked, deliberately ignoring how inept that was.

Naomi blinked, but took the alteration of topic in stride. "I played one of his holo stories yesterday," she said. She frowned, a dark shadow crossing her bright eyes. "I thought he could help me with my bad dreams, but he couldn't."

Janeway was immediately sympathetic, knowing all too well how uncomfortable bad dreams could be. "Nightmares?" she asked.

"Yes," Naomi said, and it was clear to Janeway suddenly that the child was actually quite disturbed. "I don't like them. I always fall at the end. I can never get through the door."

A chill abruptly shot through Janeway, but she forced herself to stay calm. "The door?" she prodded gently.

"Yes, on the other side of the canyon," Naomi responded in a subdued tone. "I know I have to get over there to where the door is, but the ledge always breaks before I can figure out how. Then I fall and fall and I get really scared. Then I wake up. Mom says that I've been reading too many scarey stories lately. I think it's because I can't find Critter."

"Critter?"

"My bear," she said.

"Ah," Janeway said with understanding. "I had a teddy bear when I was young as well. His name was Bobo."

Naomi stared at her in disbelief, either because the captain supposedly had a teddy bear at one point, or at the entire concept that Janeway had actually been young once. Janeway didn't know which was the case, and wasn't sure she should find out. She also wasn't sure if she should try to pursue this. On one hand, she didn't want to scare the child any further but on the other, how could the pair of them be sharing the same dream? And was anyone else on the ship also experiencing this?

The door to her quarters suddenly swished open, and Janeway glanced at the time, startled to realize that she had whiled away the duration of her duty shift talking to Naomi. Seven looked vaguely surprised to see her partner and the girl together, but she smiled faintly when Naomi bounded over to her, very much the young child once more.

"Seven, look what the captain gave me," she exclaimed, showing the pip on her collar to the Borg. "I'm really going to be her bridge assistant!"

"Indeed," Seven said with a tinge of amusement. She darted a glance at Janeway and the captain was abashed by the emotion there, the warm glow of approval. "I am sure you will be wonderful in the position."

"I start tomorrow," Naomi said. She seemed to notice suddenly that if Seven was off duty, then so was her mother. "I gotta go." She looked at the captain and nodded with a formality that made Janeway smile. "Thank you, Captain."

Janeway inclined her head graciously, then Naomi waved a quick good-bye to Seven and dashed out of their quarters. The room seemed a little too still suddenly, as if an energy had gone out of it and Janeway felt the eyes of her partner caressing her.

"I am surprised," Seven said, coming over to sit in the chair that Naomi had just vacated. Jake slide off the couch to greet his other mistress, his tail wagging as she patted him.

Janeway relaxed against the cushions of the sofa, stretching out her arms along the back. "What about?"

"I did not think you were entirely comfortable with the idea of interacting with Naomi."

Janeway eyed her briefly, her lips twitching. "Well, I suppose I should get used to doing so," she offered gently. "Especially if you're intending to have children." Seven looked at the captain, coloring beneath the faintly sardonic look. "Do you remember our previous discussions regarding that?" she asked.

Her partner shook her head, and Seven was disappointed, forcing herself not to show it. Unfortunately, the captain's memory loss was a reality they both had to deal with.

"No," Janeway replied. "However, according to Naomi, we have discussed having children before. Perhaps you should catch me up on that ... and on the current status of our relationship. I know we were engaged before my injury, but we really haven't established that we're at that same level now. Are we?"

Seven hesitated. "I had assumed we were still engaged," she said with a certain amount of dismay. It had not occurred to her that they were not, even after all they had been through.

"Good," Janeway said reassuringly, favoring her with an affection gaze. "I like being engaged to you, and I'm perfectly content to accept that as our current status. As for children, though, I do think that's something we need to discuss further."

"I agree," Seven replied. "Ever since I increased my interaction with Naomi, and also since we acquired Jake, I have been thinking about increasing our family collective even further. However, I was unsure how much you remembered of our previous discussions, and I found it difficult to approach you about it."

Janeway looked perplexed. "Why?"

Seven frowned. "I am not sure," she allowed. "I never got the impression that you wanted to discuss such things. As if you did not wish to concern yourself with such things."

Janeway took a breath. "Why does that not surprise me?" she allowed, looking a bit embarrassed. She regarded Seven, her eyes darkening perceptively. "I really can't say why I didn't want to discuss it before, Seven, but I do think we should talk about it now. I will say that having children is not something that has ever been a primary goal of mine. My first two relationships never reached that stage, and though Mark and I talked about it once or twice during our engagement, it was only in the vaguest of terms. Nothing was ever really settled. You do understand that for you and me to even have children in the first place, a great deal of genetic manipulation is required. Unless we have some sort of male donor, and I have no real genetic input at all."

"I do want you to have input," Seven said quickly. "I would have expressed that previously, but you always changed the subject as quickly as possible."

Janeway flushed. "However did you tolerate me, Annika?" she murmured, lowering her eyes. "I was so determined to keep you at arm's length."

Seven found she was mildly amused. "It was not always easy," Seven admitted dryly. She paused. "I believe that I always assumed that we would have children after we were married. Since we had decided that we would be married once we returned to the Alpha Quadrant, it was not an immediate concern that needed to be addressed."

"I see," Janeway allowed. She studied her intently. "That's changed now?"

"Yes," Seven agreed, somewhat surprised by the captain's perceptiveness. The Borg folded her hands on her lap and studied them pensively. "I find that I regret I agreed to wait, even though it had been my idea to be married in the Alpha Quadrant originally."

Janeway pursed her lips. "Why?"

"I ... I wish to be married sooner," Seven said, raising her eyes to meet Janeway's squarely.

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "In order to have children?" she asked keenly.

"No," Seven responded, startled by the assumption. "I just ... I feel I need a stronger commitment than the one we have now. More ... binding. When you lost your memory, a formally stated union between us would have been reassuring to me while I was dealing with ... everything."

"Ah," Janeway said with sudden understanding. "I could have ignored our former relationship, could have easily decided that being involved with you, regardless of what had already happened between us, was simply too impossible. With a formal binding legal agreement between us, however, I would have been forced to address the relationship, would have been forced to accept the consequences of having a spouse regardless of how my emotions eventually worked themselves out."

Seven nodded, a little ashamed that she had thought that way. Then, as if sensing her unease, Janeway leaned over, reaching out her hand which Seven accepted, allowing the captain to pull her over to the couch beside her. Seven gratefully slipped her arm around her partner's shoulders, hugging her gently.

"Aren't you lucky I fell for you anyway?" Janeway murmured into the Borg's ear. "Without the legal tie."

"I am," Seven agreed, turning her head to find the captain's lips, kissing her tenderly.  "Very fortunate."

The Borg was still getting used to this new Janeway, still adapting to how open and honest this woman was in discussing her feelings and viewpoints, as well as the unexpected affection she displayed constantly. Seven had not realized how much her partner had held back in their previous relationship until she had been exposed to this more receptive woman. Sometimes, in her deepest, darkest thoughts, Seven was glad that Janeway had been injured in such a way that she had lost her memories ... but it was not something she was ever going to admit out loud. To anyone.

"So," Janeway said, shifting so that she was sitting more against Seven, leaning back against the Borg as she stretched her booted feet onto coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. "You want us to be married sooner. Let's talk about that first."

"All right," Seven responded ,with a bit of wonder as she wrapped her arms warmly around the smaller woman beside her. Janeway actually sounded interested, intrigued by the idea rather than the somewhat evasive attitude she usually took when Seven tried making concrete plans of this nature. "Do you have a preference of ceremonies?"

Janeway took Seven's Borg-enhanced hand between hers, caressing it idly as she thought. "I'm not really partial to any in particular," she admitted. "I guess I always thought I'd be married in a similar ceremony to my parent's wedding."

"The mid-western, North American civil ceremony," Seven noted, having researched it.

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds a little dry," Janeway said, leaning her head back with a smile. "I think we could dress it up a little. The problem is, the only person on the ship who can perform wedding ceremonies is the captain. I really don't like the idea of playing both bride and minister."

"Could we utilize a hologram?" Seven asked.

"I don't think that's legal," Janeway said. "Frankly, we've made so many precedent setting procedures on Voyager that I'm hesitant to try for one more when we don't have to."

"Perhaps Commander Chakotay could be made captain for a day," Seven suggested. "Or for even a few days. There is the matter of the honeymoon, after all."

"My favorite part," Janeway said dryly. She took a breath. "Prixin will be here soon."

Seven hesitated. "The Talaxian holiday for family," she noted, unsure as to why the captain had suddenly brought that up. "It occurs within the next three months."

Janeway nodded. "It would be an easy wedding anniversary to remember," she ventured gently.  "Certainly, an appropriately significant one."

It actually took a few moments for Seven to understand what Janeway was saying. "You want us to be married that soon?" she said with surprise.

Janeway turned her head to look back at her. "You don't want to?" she asked, seeming a little uncertain suddenly.

"Yes, I want to," Seven responded, finding it hard to breathe suddenly. It was if her chest was suddenly full, her stomach rippling with curiously odd flutters. She hugged Janeway tightly. "I will be happy to marry you during the Prixin celebration."

"Then we should start making the arrangements now," Janeway said. She held up her hand and began to tick off the requirements on her fingers. "What should we wear, where will we hold it, what sort of reception should we have, what will we exchange, that sort of thing. There's a lot to plan. Are you prepared for the added responsibility we'll have over the next three months?"

"Of course," Seven said promptly. She hugged the captain tightly. "I am very excited," she informed her partner in a very somber tone.

Janeway laughed.

"So am I, darling. So am I." The news spread around the ship faster than an antimatter reaction which meant, Janeway supposed, that Seven had told B'Elanna, and the Chief Engineer took it upon herself to inform everyone else. Janeway wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that but since the crew would have found out sooner or later, she guessed she could live with it ... as well as all the good wishes and genuinely favorable comments directed her way. It surprised her how people were altering the way they were treating both her and Seven, almost as if the two were being viewed in a different light though Janeway could not understand why. After all, she and Seven had been formally engaged for almost a year, loss of memory and assorted other adventures notwithstanding.

She idly regarded the wall directly opposite where she was sitting as the Doctor hovered over her, running a medi-probe over her head, the tip glowing a cheerful golden yellow. She was in his office, positioned in front of the large desk as he carried out her regularly scheduled examination and she noticed that he made little sounds in his throat as he worked, a soft humming which she finally identified as a piece from a Vulcan opera. She was amused to find that she was surprised by that. After all, she had certified the Emergency Medical Hologram as a sentient being. Why should it be unexpected to her when he insisted on acting like one?

"You seem fine, captain," he said, studying the readings from his tricorder.

"That is what I keep telling everyone," she said dryly.

"Hmpf," he responded, his level dark eyes frowning at her. "But until I say it, it's not official."

His bald head gleamed beneath the harsh, incandescent glow of the sickbay lights and she had to resist the urge to run her hand over it just to find out what it would feel like. She always had that impulse around bald men, and she had no idea where it sprang from. She wondered briefly what Seven would look like bald, and then wondered if she was losing her mind. It seemed her thought processes were becoming more erratic the closer her wedding day approached.

"What about the dreams?" she asked, trying not to think about the upcoming event because every time she did, her palms became incredibly sweaty for some reason.

"I did a follow up on that," he said, putting down his tricorder as he regarded her evenly. "As well as yourself and Naomi, Ensign Hickman has mentioned having similar dreams. And as in your case, the dreams have lessened in intensity and frequency though they are still occurring every four or five days apart. But that's the only correlation I've found. None of the patients have anything in common with each other physically, nor in terms of a shared trauma specific to this group of people. Of course, there may be more crewmembers having these dreams but without asking everyone on the ship, there's no way of knowing.  The symbols in the dream, the cliff, the fall, the door, these are all fairly common.  We may just be assuming the dreams are the same rather than merely using the same elements."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "I still think we should pursue this," she said. "We have to know if this is a coincidence, some minor incident, or the portent of something major and quite dangerous.  I would like you to ask all your patients if they've experienced any disturbing dreams recently.  If the same symbols continue to recur, common or not, it would be a significant similarity."

"That's probably a good idea," the Doctor agreed. He regarded the captain for a moment, raising an eyebrow. "So," he added casually. "How are the wedding plans coming along?"

Janeway stifled a sigh. For some reason, that was a question she got asked a lot recently despite the fact that her only real input lately was to agree to whatever Seven proposed. She didn't quite know how the planning stage had been taken out of her hands so neatly but the fact was, Seven had gone into an immediate consultation with Ensign Wildman, B'Elanna Torres and Sek, leaving her completely out of it. Not that the captain objected to that exactly ... she was not the sort to go into spasms over dresses and flowers and lace for anyone, least of all herself ... but Janeway wondered occasionally if she was missing out. Seven seemed quite satisfied with all her plans, however.

No, more than satisfied, Janeway amended hastily. Seven is as deliriously happy as I have ever seen her.  Hardly the normal attitude for the serious, cool young woman.

Just to be sure of that assessment, a discrete question to Tuvok had informed her that he had never seen the young woman so constantly upbeat either, and since he remembered Seven from the time she arrived, the Vulcan's acknowledgment of the Borg's joyful manner seemed quite significant. Janeway decided she was not going to begrudge the young woman the chance to indulge herself completely. After all, the captain would rather just show up and have it over with as quickly and efficiently as possible.  Perferably with just her, Seven, and some form of legal authority though she doubted that was how it was going to happen.

"The plans seem to be coming along quite well," she said, making a guess. "We've decided that I'll wear one of the new style dress uniforms they brought back from the Alpha Quadrant. Seven, on the other hand, is intending to wear a full length gown, though where she got it, I have no idea. It is quite lovely and she looks absolutely exquisite in it."

The Doctor frowned. "Isn't it bad luck for ..." he trailed off uncertainly.

Janeway grinned. "For the groom to see the bride in the dress before the ceremony?" she finished impishly. "Doctor, I'm not a groom."

"Ah, yes," he said, smiling a little himself. "I forgot. Different set of traditions in your case."

"Somewhat," Janeway allowed. "Of course, like everything else in the Delta Quadrant, we're tending to make up our own set of traditions as we go along. Apparently, there is to be a certain amount of Klingon ritual involved in the ceremony as well as some Vulcan and Bajoran input. It's becoming quite the combination of cultures which I believe can be considered appropriate since Voyager's crew is basically our family. In the meantime, Commander Chakotay and I have been going over all the regulations required for making him a temporary captain for those few days even though I'll still be aboard Voyager and perfectly capable of commanding. It's been difficult to cover all the necessary legal requirements."

"Perhaps you won't have to, Captain," the Doctor said. He smiled at her sharply raised eyebrow. "In the absence of a captain, the Chief Medical Officer or the Ship's Counselor can also perform weddings since we've replaced the function of the ship's chaplain from the Earth naval traditions. We were given the authorization to perform marriages two decades ago."

Janeway considered that. "I never thought about that," she lied carefully. In truth, they had overlooked that idea because of the holographic angle. Now she realized that was being unfair to the Doctor. "You do have all the rights and privileges of any Starfleet member which should include all the responsibilities. If you don't mind the extra work."

"I'd prefer to think of it as an extension of my duties," he offered dryly. "But in any event, I'll be more than glad to perform any ceremony you might choose."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said with honest gratification. That was one obstacle put to rest and the more that were taken care of ahead of time, the more she and Seven could relax and actually enjoy their big day rather than be caught up with all the confusion that generally accompanied such an event.

Janeway glanced at the Doctor and saw that he seemed to have completed all his poking and prodding for this appointment, having crossed behind the desk and taken his seat across from her. "Am I done?" she asked, a little more eagerly than she had intended.

"More or less," he agreed sardonically. "I will want to keep an eye on these dreams." He tilted his head slightly. "May I ask you a question, Captain?"

Janeway felt a certain trepidation. For the blunt, less than diplomatic hologram to suddenly request permission must mean that the question was probably something she didn't want to answer.

"Go ahead," she replied with wary resignation.

"Why the sudden decision to get married?" he said and there was none of his usual sarcastic tone in his voice. Instead, it was honestly puzzled. "Everyone assumed that you two would take your time with your engagement."

"It has been almost a year, Doctor," Janeway reminded him. "In fact, it will be a year two weeks before the wedding day itself."

"A year since you and Seven originally became ... uh, an official couple," the Doctor agreed. "However, it's only been a few months since you lost your memory and in effect, had to get to know Seven all over again. Perhaps I should not be commenting on this, but on the other hand, I am your personal physician. Captain, you were engaged to Mark Johnson for three years with no established wedding date. As a result, I had developed the impression that your natural tendency is to avoid intimate personal commitments whenever possible. This sudden decision to be married seems quite unlike you."

Janeway would have bristled at such a blatant assessment of her character as well as the invasion of her privacy, but for the fact that his tone was honestly curious and actually quite gentle, as if he were truly concerned about this. And for all she knew, she mused, he might be. Hadn't she determined that sentience and life was more than just being organic?

"Doctor, as I think we both can acknowledge, I'm not really the same person I was before my injury," she said quietly. "The loss of my memories forced me to look at things quite differently than at any other time in my life, and it taught me what truly matters. I will have to say that Annika is the most important thing to me, more so than even my command and career in Starfleet."

He seemed astonished by her words, even a little shocked. "I have to admit, Captain," he said slowly. "I never thought I'd ever hear you say something like that."

"Well, Doctor," Janeway said with wry amusement. "I never thought I'd ever say it. I guess the older we get, the more we learn." She folded her hands neatly on her lap and looked pensively at them. "I know that both Seven and I need this formal commitment between us. With her desire to have children, I want us to be completely settled and totally comfortable as a family ourselves before that happens."

"But Seven can't---" the Doctor began, then stopped abruptly and stared at the captain. His face grew very still, and Janeway got a distinct chill as she looked into those impassive features.

"What is it?" she said, her voice going deadly quiet.

He was unable to hold her gaze, developing a intense interest in his instruments on his desk.

"Captain," he said carefully. "It is imperative that you and Seven make an appointment to see me together, as a couple, as soon as possible."

"What's this about, Doctor?" she said, unaware that she had stood up and was now looming over him as she rested her weight on her hands which were placed flat on the desk. "What's wrong?"

He looked up somberly, meeting her eyes squarely. "This concerns both you and Seven. I need to see you together," he said. He softened. "I'm sorry, Captain, I just can't say any more until Seven is also present."

Janeway felt a little faint. Whatever it was, from his expression, she knew it wasn't good.

"I'll contact Seven now," she said, reaching for her comm badge.

Knowing without a doubt that the joy which had been so present recently in the young woman's eyes and manner was about to disappear. Seven of Nine thought that this must be one of the nightmares Janeway was constantly having, that she had somehow been drawn into this most horrible of scenarios from an outside reality. This could not possibly be happening. Not now. Suddenly, the young woman was acutely aware of her pulse throbbing in her temples, of her fingers feeling chilled, like leaden lumps of ice.

"Are you sure?"

She didn't quite recognize Kathryn's voice. It sounded oddly distant and strangely calm, but with an underlying tremor that Seven thought only her Borg enhanced hearing was able to discern. From the corner of Seven's eye, she could see the captain's expression, a briefly displayed distress and sorrow before the command mask slid down over it, making her face impassive and firmly controlled. She could barely feel Kathryn reach over and grasp her right hand, entwining her fingers in hers, gripping them tightly, the Borg's extremities so numb that she was unable to sense much beyond the mere pressure of the captain's touch.

The Doctor regarded them both gravely, looking as unhappy as Seven could ever remember seeing him.

"I'm sorry, Seven," he said. "I am positive. The Borg removed all your internal reproductive organs when they installed your abdominal implant. From the scarring, I'd have to say it was done shortly after you had achieved puberty. If it had been more recent, or they had left just a fragment of any of the organs, I might have been able to regenerate at least enough DNA to provide what would be needed. But without it ... I'm sorry, not only can you not carry a fetus, you don't have the necessary genetic material for implanting into the egg of another female.  Without that kind of material, it would be too close to cloning, including the accompanying problems like genetic drift and the possibility of mutation."

He took a deep breath, more for the time it afforded him to prepare for these next words than any physical requirement to breathe. "You and Captain Janeway cannot produce a genetic offspring together," he stated with a quiet finality.  "Not naturally or legally under Federation law."

Seven thought that this must be shock. Beyond shock. She didn't know what she felt.

"I think that Seven and I need to discuss this," Janeway said in a carefully tempered tone. "Before we go any further."

"I understand," he said. He looked at the Borg. "I'm truly sorry, Seven."

Seven didn't know how she was standing or even walking. She was surrounded by a cloud of some undefinable fog, and it was only the captain's hand on her elbow that kept her moving. As she walked through the corridors to their quarters, she thought that she must be giving some indication of her internal devastation just from the expressions of the crewmembers they passed, but no one said or did anything to impede their progress.

The next thing Seven knew, she was standing in the middle of their living area, looking around uncertainly as if she did not know where 'here' was exactly. Jake, she saw, had been sent to his bed by a stern command from Janeway and now he had his head propped over the edge of it, regarding her with warm brown eyes. He seemed worried about her but he obediently remained on his belly in the doggy bed, not coming over to her as would be his normal inclination despite the captain's order.

"Here, drink this."

Janeway was standing by her suddenly, offering her a glass of some smokey, golden liquid. Obeying woodenly, like some construct, or even the drone she had once been, Seven took the glass, choking as the whiskey neatly burned a path down her throat. It impacted on her belly like an explosive device, and the shock of its ingestion along with the effect of its alcoholic properties, spread a heat through her, loosening the icy chill that had gripped her so thoroughly. She gulped down the rest, then handed the glass to Janeway who set it down on the coffee table.

Seven was aware of the captain's concerned expression as she nudged the Borg over to the couch, urging her to sit down. Seven did, collapsing rather than actually descending to the cushions in any sort of controlled manner.

"Annika, can you hear me?"

Seven turned her gaze to where her partner knelt before her, her hands resting on her legs, leaning forward to stare with concern into the young woman's dazed eyes.

"Yes," she responded dully. "I can hear you."

Janeway put her hand against Seven's cheek, and the Borg felt the warmth of it penetrate a little more of the cold that seemed to permeate her entire body. The captain hesitated, as if not knowing the proper words. It took a few moments before she spoke.

"Annika, darling," she said softly. "There's nothing I can do or say right now that can make this all right. I wish with all my heart that I could."

"Kathryn?"

"Yes, darling." Janeway's voice was as gentle and compassionate as Seven could ever remember hearing. But it did not make a difference. It did not make her feel better.

"Kathryn, I cannot ... we will never be able to have children," she said and saying the words themselves gave them a reality that she did not think she could bear.

Janeway took a breath. "Darling, we can discuss this further," she said quietly. "But for now, you need to adapt to this bit of news before we explore any other options."

Helpless anger rose in Seven, replacing the last of the chill with a burning heat that grew hotter with every breath. "I do not want to adapt to this," she said sharply. She stood abruptly, shaking off the captain's hand as she walked away, putting a distance between her and her partner. "This is not right. It is not fair."

"No, it isn't," Janeway agreed quietly, standing in the center of the room as she regarded Seven gravely.

Seven turned to her, suddenly needing to hurt someone else as much as she was suddenly hurting, no matter who it was. "You are glad," she screamed. "You never wanted children."

Janeway opened her mouth to speak, stopped, obviously struggling to control her initial response. "Annika," she said in a tone so quiet that Seven almost had to strain to hear it. "You know that's not true."

"It is true," Seven accused her raggedly. "You never wanted children with me. That is why you would never speak of them with me. You are happy we cannot have children." She turned abruptly, heading for the door. "Leave me alone," she threw over her shoulder bitterly.

She stumbled through the corridors, wanting only to be by herself, to be alone, not noticing where she was going, knowing only that she had to get away from this somehow, had to escape this awful reality. When her turmoil led her to the cargo bay, and the Borg alcoves still stored there, she did not wonder why or question it. The angular, stark construction, the greenish illumination given off by the sickly lights, gave focus to her churning emotions, and she attacked the technology with a mindless rage, smashing conduits and consoles, shattering the panels and lights, shredding cables and her own hands in the process.

When the paroxysm of fury had finally subsided, when she stood still in the middle of the destruction which littered the deck around her, clenching her bleeding hands into fists, she she screamed until her voice was raw, until she was unable to make any other sound than the steady, uncomprehending keening. She wrapped her arms around herself as the sobs of grief and agony shook her, the tears running unchecked down her cheeks.

Mourning the loss of the children she would never be allowed to know. Janeway stood in her quarters, staring at the deck, crossing her arms across her chest in almost a hug to help stave off the almost overwhelming feelings of distress and unhappiness flooding her.

"Damn," she said. "Oh, damn."

It was a woefully inadequate appraisal of the situation but it was the best she could come up with at the moment.

Jake, who had apparently decided he could take all of this that he could stand, got up and padded over to her uncertainly, tentatively nudging his nose into her leg and whimpering pitifully. She glanced at him, then dropped her hand to his head, scratching his silky red fur, unable to deny that the contact gave her comfort. She knelt and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him gently.

"Oh, Jake," she said sadly. "Annika is hurting so much."

He whined and nosed her face, licking her comfortingly. She hugged him a final time, then stood up, looking around the quarters, feeling a little lost at what to do next.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she said.

"Seven of Nine is in cargo bay two," the even feminine tones of the ship's main computer stated.

Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Tuvok," she said.

"Go ahead, Captain," he replied immediately.

"Place cargo bay two off limits until Seven of Nine is finished in there," she requested and hoped he would not ask why.

"May I ask why, Captain?" he said.

It appeared nothing was going to go right this day.

"Just carry out my order, Tuvok," she said wearily.

"Yes, Captain," he said, obviously puzzled.

She could hear the confusion in his voice, but she knew he would obey. That was all she required at the moment. She realized that Seven needed her space, needed time to comprehend what had happened this day, but the captain didn't want her to be totally alone. She hoped that Tuvok would wait outside the cargo bay and provide the logical compassion that Seven could accept. Janeway wanted desperately to be with Seven, but she knew that until the young woman could let her partner in, the captain would only do more harm than good by trying to impose her presence on her.

She had to respect Seven's heartfelt cry. She had to leave her alone.

She checked the time, noting that it was only 1900 hours. Had it just been two hours since the end of her duty shift, and her appointment in sickbay? Two hours in which she had tracked down Seven, and the two of them had met with the Doctor where he had unloaded this news that completely changed their lives?

She shook her head. Time flies when you're having fun, she thought without humor. Yet stretches on interminably when you're not.

She went over to the replicator and keyed in a program for dinner. She wasn't hungry in the least but she knew that she had to eat. Or rather, she knew that she had to keep all her previous promises to Seven in a way she had never felt before, included that of eating regularly in a healthy manner. She took the salad which materialized and carried it over to the table, sitting down and forking into it without any enthusiasm at all.

She could not taste the food, content only that the solid nutrition was somehow getting down her throat, though how it was making it past the lump which seemed permanently lodged in it was beyond her. She listlessly finished her meal and took her plate over to the recycler, startled by the sudden clunk from the dog's dispenser as the internal timer went off, and spit out an exactly measured ration of puppy chow into Jake's bowl. The device had been designed and built by Seven and Janeway thought that if they ever did return to the Alpha Quadrant, her partner would make quite a tidy living from all the little gadgets she was continually inventing and building to make having a pet a more efficient experience.

Janeway eyed the replicator briefly for a moment, the thought of taking the edge off her unhappiness with alcohol disturbing her with the strength of its appeal.  It took an effort to walk away without replicating herself the entire bottle of whiskey she was desiring so strongly at the moment.

She sat on the couch, staring blankly into the greyness of the room. She was acutely aware of her partner's absence, even though the past few weeks had seen the young Borg busy with wedding plans and away from their quarters until late each night. However, this was entirely different.

Janeway wondered suddenly how this would affect the wedding. Should they postpone it? Call it off altogether? She realized she was occupying her thoughts with minutiae to avoid thinking about what was really going on. She forced herself to contemplate what she really didn't want to, forced herself to think about Seven being unable to have children, or even contribute to anyone else conceiving them.

Seven had not been entirely inaccurate when she had said that the captain had been ambivilant about the concept of children, but now that the option had been taken away, Janeway felt completely distraught. She discovered that she had been getting used to the idea; had, in fact, been looking forward to their conceiving and raising a child. She had no doubt that Seven would make a remarkable mother, and if Janeway, herself, was unable to be the parent her mother, Gretchen, had been, then the captain was convinced that at least she would not be the sort her father had turned out to be. Admiral Edward Janeway had dedicated his life to Starfleet, to protecting the Federation, and while he had been a good man and Kathryn adored him utterly, there was no question that she had resented his choices over the years. His wife and children had paid the price for his dedication, and Kathryn never wanted to be like him ... even though it seemed like that was exactly who she had been turning into.

Until Seven.

Janeway thought that Seven had done more than just love her. The Borg had given Janeway back her humanity, had made her see what was truly important. The captain thought it mattered little what she accomplished as either a starship commander, or a scientist, if she spent her life unloved, or if she let the people she loved down. She would always owe the young woman for that understanding which had come to her in this, her fourth decade. Not exactly late in life but certainly it was an understanding she hadn't possessed in all her previous relationships.

Janeway bowed her head, feeling tears sting her eyes as she thought how the remarkable person that Seven had become was being rewarded in such a shabby way. Her partner deserved so much better than this, she thought. She had so much love, had such a gentle and kind nature beneath that Borg exterior. Janeway thought about the offspring that would never be, the child who would not have Seven's eyes or her narrow good looks or that natural brilliance. Who would, in fact, never exist.

Unquestionably, there were other options, but for now, Janeway wept for what would never be. Wept for her partner and herself and for what they would never know.

Hours later, she found herself curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown about her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around her knees and looked at the stars out the huge window of transparent aluminum, their gleam distorted by the ship's warp bubble into passing streaks of light. She was dressed in a silken, navy blue nightgown, the lights having been lowered for the ship's midnight watch. She had tried going to bed earlier, tossing and turning restlessly, but succeeded only in twisting the sheets into a wrinkled mess before surrendering to the unavoidable and coming out here.

To wait.

The door to her quarters hissed open and she turned her head, watching as Seven entered. The young woman was contained in a way Janeway had never seen before, her face shadowed with a maturity that comes only from traumatic pain and harsh tribulation; as if she was a blade of metal, tempered in the searing heat of disappointment and pain. Her eyes were reddened, swollen as if every tear in the universe had been cried and there were simply none left to find.

"Annika," Janeway said huskily. She wanted to ask her if she was all right, what had happened, but she sensed that anything she could say right now would be so inadequate to express either her own feelings, or draw out Seven's, that she didn't even want to make the attempt.

"Kathryn."

The voice was raw, shredded, and Janeway had to force herself to remain still as the young woman crossed the room to sit in the chair facing the captain. Seven seemed unable to formulate anything further, head bowed as she stared at the floor, her hands resting palm up on her lap, limp and curled. Janeway's breath caught as she saw the damage the young woman had done to herself.

"Annika, your hands," she exclaimed, shaking off the blanket and sitting up, leaning forward to take the injured appendages into her own. "We have to get you to sickbay."

"No!" It was sharp, angrily defined, and concerned, Janeway looked at her. Seven hesitated, and in a softer voice, added, "I do not want to go there.  I do not wish to see the Doctor."

Janeway thought she understood. "All right," she said gently. "Let me get the dermal regenerator at least."

The captain rose, going into the bedroom to fish out the medical device from a drawer in her night stand. The item had been added to their personal effects early on in their relationship after an inadvertent spasm by Seven, in the throes of passion, had drawn blood from Janeway's bicep which the Borg had been gripping tightly, the mesh tearing the skin and flesh. It had never been needed after another incident had seen Seven's fingers dig into Janeway's back muscles, slicing her to the bone. After that, Seven took the most exquisite care to keep her left hand well away from Janeway whenever the Borg felt the slightest loss of control over it, but they had kept the regenerator nonetheless, and Janeway was grateful for that happenstance now.

The captain returned to the living area and sat down on the coffee table, taking Seven's hands gently onto her lap, and using the medical device to repair the damage. Seven sat quietly, passively watching as her partner healed the torn and bloody flesh, seeming uninterested in what was surely a painful process.

"What happened?" Janeway asked softly as she worked.

At first, she thought the young woman wouldn't answer, but finally Seven spoke in a low, guttural voice.

"I went to cargo bay two," she said. "I destroyed the alcoves."

Janeway swallowed hard. "I see," she said.

"The Borg did this to me," Seven said, face bleak. "They took away our children. Why would they do that?"

"It is probably standard procedure," Janeway said carefully. A logical, technical response might be one of the few things Seven could comprehend at a time like this. "Since the Borg have no need to reproduce by single cell fertilization, the organs were discarded as being ... irrelevant."

"I hate them," Seven said bitterly, an uncharacteristic viciousness threading through her words. "I hate the Borg."

Janeway finished the last of her repairs, and placed the regenerator beside her on the coffee table's transparent surface. She took the newly healed hands into her own, squeezing them gently, hesitating as she found herself in the unexpected position of having to somehow explain and defend the Collective to Seven.

"Annika, I completely understand you feeling that way," she said compassionately. "Certainly, I'm not going to defend what they did to you, but the Borg Collective is part of you, darling. It is part of what makes you who you are. I don't want you to hate that part of yourself."

Seven's breathing was ragged, harsh. Then she bowed her head. "I am very angry," she said hoarsely.

"I know," Janeway said quietly.

Seven raised her eyes to meet the captain's, full of hurt and a soul-deep sadness. "I was angry at you," she said regretfully. "I am sorry for that.  I am especially sorry for what I said, for trying to hurt you with my words."

"It's already forgiven and forgotten, darling," Janeway told her softly. "I understand your anger, I do.  I'm so very angry myself at the sheer injustice of it, but I also know that there's nowhere to direct this anger."

"What will we do?" Seven sounded so young, so uncertain.

"I don't know," Janeway admitted honestly. "I only know we should try to find a way to deal with it, together."

Seven closed her eyes and leaned forward. Janeway put her hand on the back of the young woman's neck, allowing the head to fall forward onto her shoulder, brushing back the stray strands of  hair. Her fingers fumbled at the clip which held up the rest of Seven's white-blond tresses, freeing it so that it fell over the Borg's back. Seven had let it grow long again after a brief exploration into a severely shorn and clipped look which Janeway had also liked, but had not appreciated as much as these gloriously long, thick locks. The captain buried her face into them and held the woman close.

"I love you, Annika," she said softly. "We'll make it through this."

"I want to believe you," Seven replied in a small voice. "But I cannot."

Janeway kissed her tenderly. "You will," she told her. "I know that you are having difficulty accepting that right now, but eventually you will."

She hugged Seven tightly, resting her chin on top of the blond head, tears stinging her eyes.

"Just have faith in me, my darling," she whispered. "I'll see you through this."

Seven wasn't sure how she made it into the bedroom. Just that Kathryn was taking care of her, undressing her with tender compassion, guiding her between the sheets which the captain first had to straighten out. The young woman wondered what had caused the bedding to become so tangled, but soon lost track of that thought. It seemed as if she existed in a sort of dazed limbo, unable to concentrate on anything for very long.

She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling and the mirror there, suddenly wishing it was gone, not wanting to see herself or the way her face looked, so lost and bleak. She closed her eyes.

"Can we remove the mirror?" she asked flatly.

Kathryn paused as she was slipping off her nightgown. "If you wish," she responded evenly. "I'll have maintenance take care of it in the morning."

Seven felt the bed sink as the captain got in beside her, then opened her eyes when the expected body did not touch her, glancing over. Kathryn was on her side, half raised as she propped herself up on her elbow.

"Can I touch you?" the captain asked gently. "I don't want to intrude."

Seven felt sudden tears well in her eyes and a sob tore at her throat as she reached out blindly to her partner. Kathryn gathered her up in her arms, holding her tightly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Janeway said quietly.

Seven buried her face into the beloved warmth of Kathryn, clinging to her as if she were afraid that if she didn't, the captain would suddenly disappear. She thought she had cried all the tears she had inside while in the cargo bay, but apparently that was not the case. She had never experienced such a blow, not even when Kathryn had lost her memories and could not remember her. Then at least, she still had contact with her, was still able to be a part of her life until the captain fell in love with her once more.

This was a permanent loss, as One's had been. Seven supposed that was when her maternal instincts had first stirred, when a transporter accident involving her and the Doctor had resulted in the creation of a new drone. One had looked to her for guidance and in turn, taught Seven how it felt to love someone else. When he died, it was if her heart had been ripped out of her chest. Yet this, somehow, was so much worse.

Kathryn did not try to say anything. She just held her, smoothing her hair, rubbing her back and kissing her gently. It took some time before Seven was able to regain some measure of composure, some sense of control over her emotions. She lay with her head resting on the captain's chest, her arm across her torso, hugging her tightly.

"This is hurting me," she whispered.

"I know, my love," Kathryn responded quietly, stroking Seven's back lightly. "I'd give anything if I could somehow make it stop. Yet, at the same time, I'd be a lot more worried if you felt nothing. Darling, you may never be able to think of this without pain, but I promise you, it won't always hurt this much."

"I find that ... difficult to believe," Seven said. She sniffed and closed her eyes, swallowing hard. "I wanted so much to have children with you. To have a family."

"You and I can have a family, Annika," Kathryn told her carefully. "It might not happen the way you had planned, but there are other options for us."

Seven was silent for long moments, torn between wanting to know those options and not yet ready to think about anything but the pain she was feeling. It was only the fact that Kathryn waited for her to request the information, rather than forcing it upon her, that allowed her to finally ask.

"What options?"

"Adoption, for one," Kathryn explained gently. "There are many children without parents in the Alpha Quadrant at the best of times, and with the Federation fighting a war with the Dominion, there has to be even more now. I think we could easily give the same love and attention we were going to give our genetic offspring to another child who needed it, don't you?"

Seven had never considered such a thing. She tried to imagine what would happen if Ensign Wildman died and Naomi was left alone. Would she be able to accept the girl as her own child and do her best to love her? Seven thought she could. After all, she already cared for her just by being her friend and she thought that she could do that for any child ... once she got to know them, of course.

"Besides, as far as I know, my reproductive organs are fully functional," Kathryn added, a wry note in her voice. "I could possibly conceive and carry a fetus to term."

Seven rose up, staring down at the captain, searching her face. "You would do that for me?" she said wonderingly. She took a breath, hesitating. "That is why I wanted us to have children so that no matter what happened, there would always be a part of you left with me."

Kathryn blinked as she absorbed that. "I see," she said slowly. "I hadn't thought about it from that angle." She paused. "Are you so worried about losing me, Annika?"

"It is something I think about now," she said. She lowered her eyes. "I had thought I had conquered this fear, but when you lost your memories, it returned, stronger than ever. I could lose you forever, Kathryn. I know you once told me that I must find some way to survive without you, but if you were to die, I think that I must as well. I can see no other way for me to obey your request unless I was responsible for taking care of someone else. Someone that was a part of us, a part of you."

A muscle in Kathryn's jaw twitched and her eyes grew dark, very sad and very loving at the same time. "Annika," she said huskily. "I think that is the most wonderful ... and terrifying thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm not even sure how I feel about it let alone how I should respond to it." She slipped her arms around Seven's neck and hugged her fiercely. "I love you, Annika. I promise you, I'll always be with you, one way or another.  I don't want you to give up just because I'm not physically present."

Seven relaxed in the embrace, not knowing exactly what Kathryn meant, but content that the captain did mean it with all her heart. It seemed that the hurt inside her had lessened ever so slightly, that she no longer felt such a tearing agony within herself, and she was able to contemplate the alternatives that her partner had just presented.

"You would become pregnant?" Seven asked after a long moment. "For me?"

Kathryn hesitated, then kissed Seven sweetly. "Annika," she said softly. "I want to be a full time parent, not one that just stops by once in a blue moon while you keep the home fires burning. I hated that as a child, and I won't have it as a parent. I'm getting the impression that you want this child to replace me while I go off and leave you behind. That's not how I view us having a family. I'm sorry if that hurts you, especially now."

Seven shook her head. "No," she replied quietly. "It does not hurt me. It does surprise me. I always thought that, if we were to have children, I would be the primary care giver while you returned to being a captain, just as Gretchen was for you while your father was away. You have told me that being a captain is very important to you, and I accept it as being very much who you are. I would never want you to deny that part of yourself for any reason, Kathryn. Not even to be with me and our children."

Kathryn made a small sound of disagreement in her throat. "I wouldn't be denying myself anything, Annika," she said. "A family means being together, you, me and however many children we add to the mix. Be it on a planet or in space on a ship.  I will not leave you behind, darling.  You cannot ask or expect that of me."

Seven seemed unable to adjust to this new picture of their future. So instead, she hugged the captain tightly. "I love you, Kathryn," Seven said quietly.

Kathryn kissed her gently. "I love you too, Annika," she said, raising Seven's head once more so that she could look in her eyes. "We'll work this out together." She paused, then added quietly, "Unless you've changed your mind about getting married to me. Have you?"

"I haven't changed my mind," Seven responded quickly. "I still want to marry you." She hesitated. "Do you still want to marry me even though I can't contribute to our having a child?"

Kathryn caught her breath, looking almost angry. "Annika, bearing a child and caring for a child are two separate things," she said in such a serious tone that Seven was startled. "You will be a terrific mother. Don't ever doubt that."

Seven was confused. It seemed like Kathryn was trying to tell her something more than what her words were actually saying but the turmoil and outpouring of emotions had left her exhausted and she found she was unable to concentrate on it. Wearily, she let her head fall back down to the captain's chest and she felt Kathryn cup her cheek warmly in the palm of her hand.

"Go to sleep, love," Kathryn suggested gently. "Tomorrow is another day and with any luck, it won't be anywhere near as bad as today was."

Obediently, Seven closed her eyes, sinking into the warm peace being with her partner usually granted her.

She did not know where she was or what was happening.  As the ledge beneath crumbled, she fell, screaming Kathryn's name the entire way.  Reaching out for a saving hand that could not catch her.

Janeway stood in the cargo bay, her hands on her hips, surveying the damage with a frown. Beside her, Tuvok waited patiently for her to speak.

"Seven said she had destroyed them," Janeway said ruefully. "I hadn't realized she had been so ... untidy while doing so, however. She's usually a lot more efficient in carrying out any destructive tendencies."

"I do not believe she felt efficient at the moment," Tuvok noted. He hesitated, then glanced at the captain surreptitiously. "Captain, I am sorry for her loss ... and for yours."

Janeway took a breath, raising her head. "She told you," she said, a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," he replied. "After exiting. I made a point of waiting to speak with her because I wished to understand what was happening. She explained her reasoning behind her actions, so I sealed the cargo bay until I could get your decision regarding the disposal of the Borg technology." He paused. "What do you intend to do?"

Janeway sighed. "We'll have to salvage what we can," she said. "This is Seven's doing and like it or not, she needs to take a certain amount of responsibility for it." A muscle twitched in her jaw and her eyes grew dark. "I'll send her down to clean this up and repair what she can. I would ask that you keep this off limits until she's finished."

"I will," he said. He tilted his head as he regarded her. "You must also be affected by this," he offered gently, a great deal more compassionately than at any other time before.

Her eyes dropped. "I am, Tuvok," she admitted. "I've never had much in the way of maternal instincts, but I can't deny that to suddenly have this avenue in our future closed off ... it does hurt in a way I never would have expected."

"There are other options," he pointed out.

"Yes," Janeway agreed. "We've discussed them, but I'm not sure we've fully adjusted to the idea. Maybe I was just assuming Seven was going to bear the children, as well, and now we both have to look at things differently. Change, particularly in one's attitude, always takes time."

He looked pensive. "Captain, before my wife and I were able to conceive our first child," he said slowly and she realized he was sharing something very personal with her in order to make her feel better. "We required certain fertilization techniques. I do understand the difficulty you are experiencing."

"Indeed," Janeway said with a certain amount of surprise. It warmed her that he would make such an attempt, but then he always did try to make allowances with her in a way that he wouldn't with any other Human. It was only now, after years of being his friend, that she realized how much he had let her in, or for that matter, how much he had allowed himself to be a part of her life. "Thank you, Tuvok."

He nodded, apparently content to leave the conversation there. She left him standing in the cargo bay regarding the spilled conduit fluids and scattered debris while she took the turbolift to the deck containing astrometrics. Seven was at work in her lab, going over the long range sensors when Janeway walked in.

The captain noted the single red rose in the crystal vase sitting proudly on the top of Seven's console, and realized that she had not told Neelix that the gesture was no longer necessary. Clearly, the Talaxian was continuing to carry out her request that Seven receive a fresh bloom every morning, waiting for her when she began her day.  Janeway wondered if she should contact the Delta Quadrant native, and cancel the request.

Or maybe I should just let it continue, Janeway told herself. Perhaps such a gesture is needed now, more than ever.

"Kathryn," Seven greeted, her pale eyes lighting up as they always did when she saw her partner.

"Seven," Janeway returned the greeting formally, her use of the Borg designation letting the young woman know this was not a personal call.

Seven straightened obligingly, giving Janeway her complete attention, and the captain was struck suddenly by the image of Naomi's imitation of that motion. The child really did have the Borg's mannerisms down to a 'T'.

"How may I help you, Captain?" Seven asked.

Janeway hesitated, putting her hands on the top of the console, looking at Seven from beneath lowered brows. "Seven, I was just in the cargo bay," she said calmly. "You need to clean that up, and any remaining technology that is still functioning must be salvaged."

Seven's face assumed an expression which was a combination of betrayal and hurt outrage.

"You cannot ask that of me," she protested.

"I'm not asking it of you," Janeway said firmly. "I'm ordering it." Then she softened. "Seven, I understand completely what prompted such actions, but although I sympathize, such behavior is unacceptable. Uncontrolled anger needs to be taken to the holodeck where there will be no permanent damage. I just can't excuse this."

"You did last night," Seven responded sullenly.

"Last night, I was your partner," Janeway reminded her sharply. "Today, I am the captain of a ship which cannot afford to have its crewmembers engage in such destructive activity. Not to mention the fact that what remains of those alcoves could prove to be dangerous to any crewmember trying to dispose of it. Only you have the necessary knowledge and skill to handle the technology safely." She paused, waiting until Seven's gaze had met hers. "You know this, Seven."

Reluctantly, Seven nodded. "I do," she agreed in a subdued tone. She looked away, and for the moment, Janeway let the captain slip aside, stepping around the console to touch her partner. She wouldn't do this if they hadn't been alone in the lab so she supposed she should be glad they were.

"Annika, I'm not trying to punish you," she said softly.

Seven swallowed. "I know," she said and reached out for Janeway, enfolding her into an embrace. "I should not have destroyed them."

Janeway sighed. "Darling, I'm not arguing with your actions. I'm just telling you that you are responsible for them, as well as for any repercussions," she said quietly. She leaned back her head, capturing the Borg's gaze. "As you told me once, you have to pick your spots. This was not one of them."

"Very well," Seven said. She buried her face in Janeway's hair, taking full advantage of this opportunity to hold the captain. "I promise I will be more careful in the future."

"That's all I ask," Janeway murmured, snuggling against Seven. She discovered she needed this embrace, almost as much as Seven apparently did. She was shocked when Seven abruptly pushed her away a few moments later.

She barely had a chance to regain her equilibrium before the door slid open, and B'Elanna Torres entered. The captain took a breath and regarded Seven with a new respect. Apparently the Borg's enhanced hearing was a bit better than she realized, the young woman having detected the engineer's approach in the corridor. She had reacted before the door had even opened, and thus prevented Torres from catching them in a fairly unprofessional position. Not that Janeway would be embarrassed to be seen snuggling with her partner, but there was a time and a place for such things, and the astrometrics lab, while they were both on duty, was not necessarily either.

"Captain," Torres said. She was frowning. "I just tried to get into cargo bay two, and Tuvok wouldn't let me. What's going on?"

"The Borg alcoves suffered some damage," the captain responded evenly. "I was just about to send Seven down to take care of it."

B'Elanna stared blankly at her. "What kind of damage?" she asked.

Seven took the Klingon's arm, nudging her toward the door. "I shall explain on the way," she said. "Perhaps you could assist in the cleanup."

"Sure," B'Elanna responded, then blinked, looking at the captain. "If that's all right?" she added belatedly.

The young Klingon had undergone a decided alteration in her attitude towards Janeway lately, and though the captain could not remember what she had done to prompt it, she had been told that the engineer had needed disciplinary action. Certainly, the way Torres acted now was a great deal more respectful than how Janeway originally remembered her being. The captain wasn't entirely sure she liked the change, but she didn't know how to restore it to what it was three years ago, or even if she should. They'd both been through a lot in the past whether she remembered it or not, and the captain supposed that if they were interacting this way now, that was how it should be.

"Actually, I was just about to suggest that myself," Janeway said. She frowned thoughtfully at the engineer, not sure why she asked the next question, but going with the gut instinct which suddenly stirred. "Lt. Torres, have you experienced any recurring dreams recently?"

Janeway knew the answer immediately, just from the expression that crossed B'Elanna's face.

"Actually I have," Torres said, staring at the captain with great surprise. "I'm standing on a cliff side while the ledge I'm standing on crumbles." It was clear she had been disturbed by these dreams.

"There is a door across the canyon which I must get to," Seven interjected, staring at them both oddly. "However, I fall before I can discover a way across."

Janeway looked at her. "I didn't know you were having them as well, Seven," she said with concern. "You never told me."

"I did not have them until last night," Seven said. "That same dream kept waking me." She hesitated. "You have also dreamed this?"

"Me and a few others," Janeway admitted, "for a month or so now." She looked at B'Elanna. "I don't want to make more of this than it is, but clearly, something's going on. I want you to ask, discreetly, if anyone else has been having these dreams ... when they started, and how often they've been having them. Get back to me before the end of your duty shift."

B'Elanna looked thoughtful. "Can it wait until tomorrow morning, Captain?" she asked. "That way I can tackle people in the messhall during dinner this evening. It would make for a more casual setting in which to bring it up."

"You're right, of course," Janeway said, annoyed with herself that she hadn't thought of that. "Tomorrow will be fine."

B'Elanna nodded formally, then she headed for the door, Seven on her heels. Janeway was left alone in the astrometrics lab, drumming her fingers pensively on the smooth top of the console.

Wondering what the hell was going on.

"Kahless's beard, what the hell happened here?" B'Elanna said, staring at the demolished Borg alcoves in utter disbelief.

Seven was unable to look at her friend, somewhat ashamed now that she was taking a second look at the damage in the cool light of clarity. Somehow, it hadn't seemed this bad when she had walked out of here the night before.

"I destroyed them," she said quietly.

Silence, and the Borg looked over to see B'Elanna regarding her strangely.

"You did this?" the engineer said. "What the hell for?"

Taking a deep breath, Seven told her everything that had occurred the day before, of the discovery of her inability to bear children, at how she had lashed out in her anger at the Borg who had done this to her by destroying their technology.

B'Elanna's face was stricken when Seven had finished dispassionately reciting her story. "Oh god, Seven," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't ... I didn't even know you wanted children that much."

Seven lowered her head. "Neither did I," she said. "It always seemed the next logical step, a natural progression to undertake in my life with Kathryn. Now, however, I realize that I had anticipated having a child like Ensign Wildman had Naomi. Now, that shall never be. Kathryn has offered to provide a child for me and I shall love it but ... it will not be mine."

Seven was caught off guard as B'Elanna suddenly jerked her around, pushing her face into the startled Borg's. "Now you listen to me, Annika Hansen," Torres said with furious intent, eyes glaring. "Children aren't something you own, or something you bring in to fix things in your life. They're separate individuals, completely helpless at first, who are going to depend on you to do everything for them. It doesn't matter if they came out of your body, or you found it under a warp core containment field as long as you love it and protect it and teach everything it needs to know to be a good person. Dammit, you're their parent, and you'd better stop thinking in terms of 'mine', or you'll do that child more harm than good."

Seven opened her mouth to respond, then realized she was absolutely speechless. She had never seen B'Elanna so serious. Angry yes, but not like this. This was a cold anger, springing from something long ago.

"I ... I do not think I understand," she said slowly.

"Seven, it doesn't matter where the child comes from as long as you raise it with love," B'Elanna insisted. "Wanting genetic input, 'my child' vs 'her child'... that's just pure ego and frankly, absolutely no reason to have a kid. The only reason to want a child is because you and the captain have so much love that it's just going to waste without someone else to share it. Then, and only then ... no matter how you do it, whether biologically, accidently, or deliberately ... should you allow another being into your family."

Seven thought hard about what B'Elanna had said. "Very well," she said slowly. "I shall consider your words."

"You do that," B'Elanna said shortly, and released her grip, which truth be told, had been starting to hurt the Borg's arm.

Seven eyed the Klingon uncertainly, and took a breath. Obviously B'Elanna felt very strongly about this, and she realized that perhaps she had been making assumptions on why she should do things without looking at all the ramifications. She decided that she and Kathryn needed to speak further on this. B'Elanna's impassioned speech opened up new areas that she had not considered before.

It took them the rest of their duty shifts to sift through the mess, salvaging what they could, and disposing of what could not be repaired. When Seven returned to her quarters, she was still feeling considerably uncertain and confused. She sat down on the deck in the living area, wrapping her arms around her knees as she leaned back against the couch. Jake promptly leaped up on the cushions behind her ,and rested his snout by her head, his breath ruffling her hair. That was how the captain found them when she finally completed her day on the bridge.

"What's wrong with this picture?" Janeway said wryly as she stood, hands on her hips, looking down at them. Seven glanced up at her inquiringly, and Janeway smiled. "The dog is supposed to be on the floor," the captain elaborated. "You're supposed to be up on the furniture."

Seven smiled faintly, and Janeway bent down, kissing the corner of that smile gently. Then the captain went over, and aquired a glass of wine before returning to displace Jake from the couch much to the puppy's obvious displeasure. He ungraciously curled up next to Seven, resting his head on her leg, grumbling imprecations at his other mistress. Janeway ignored him, stretching out luxuriously on her back as she reached out for the back of Seven's head, releasing the pins that held up the long, white-blond hair, letting it spill down over the Borg's shoulders. Seven wondered, if the captain preferred the Borg's hair down so much, why she was not expected to wear it down during her duty shift. It did not occur to her that Janeway might derive some form of pleasure from being able to let loose the young woman's hair after the day's work was complete.

"Are you still upset over having to clean up cargo bay two?" Janeway asked quietly after a period of silence.

Seven shook her head. "No," she responded. "It was my responsibility."

Janeway nodded briefly, stroking her partner's tresses idly. "So what's making you so unhappy? Besides the obvious, I mean."

Seven turned slightly so that she was facing Janeway, her side pressed against the couch. She took a breath, searching for the words. "I have been thinking about why I wanted to have children so much," she said slowly. "I knew my reasons, but now I wonder if they were the right ones."

"I see," Janeway said, and her eyes took on a light grey shade. "What brought that on?"

"I was speaking with B'Elanna, and she said that it was wrong for me to want children for any other reason than because I had so much love to share," Seven said. "The way she explained it made me realize that perhaps she was right. I believe I was viewing any children we had as being sub-units, as being nothing more than extensions of ourselves. Yet, Naomi is not merely a sub-unit of Ensign Wildman. She is an individual, separate and distinct. The desire to have children who 'belonged' to me or even you, seems selfish now."

Janeway took a sip of her wine, clearly buying herself some time to come up with a response to this. "Seven, I don't think it's that simple," she said slowly. "There are many reasons for having children, good, honest reasons other than the one B'Elanna offered. However, I will agree that why and how you have children is not nearly as important as how you treat and raise them after they're born. Does that make sense?"

Seven nodded. "I believe so," she said. "I think I was concentrating so much on the concept of creating something that would be a part of both you and me that I neglected to consider how it would be beyond that." She paused and looked at Janeway, her eyes widened. "Having a child, whether biologically or from other circumstances, would significantly alter our lives ... far more than when you and I fell in love, and began living together."

Janeway looked amused and Seven frowned. The captain caught it and reached out, tracing the dimple in Seven's chin with her thumb.

"I'm sorry, Annika," she said in a somewhat apologetic tone. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just that you've realized something that too many parents don't get until after the fact ... even when they think they have everything prepared."

Seven was curious. "Have you always known it?" she asked. "Is that why you were so reluctant to have children?"

Janeway shook her head. "Not really, Annika," she said. "Not in those terms. I did know that having a child is a great responsibility, and while I was actively pursuing a career in Starfleet, I simply didn't have time for that sort of thing. However, it was an abstract sort of realization, not something that I sat down, and actually decided upon. As for us, however, I often think about what it would be like to expand our family, to bring in other beings to love, and who would love us. Certainly, I'm looking forward to that someday, but I also think it is something we shouldn't rush into."

Seven leaned her head against Janeway's side, feeling the warmth of the captain's body through the uniform tunic and sweater. The captain ran her fingers down Seven's cheek, and the young woman closed her eyes. "It involves so much more than what I anticipated," the Borg said softly. "I do not understand why I did not realize it when the concept first came to me. The necessary information has always been there, but until B'Elanna spoke with me ... loudly ... I did not comprehend all that was involved."

"Couldn't see the forest for the trees," Janeway said unhelpfully, and when Seven looked at her with confusion, the captain smiled. "Seven, we all do that from time to time. We're so busy working out the details, we never stop to look at the big picture."

Seven took a breath. "I am not ready to be a parent," she said, a tremor in her voice.

"Annika," Janeway said gently, dipping her head to catch her eyes. "No one is, no matter how much preparation we think we have. Let me tell you this, there's no question in my mind that if a child were to suddenly appear in our lives, you would instantly adapt, and be an absolutely wonderful mother. Don't ever doubt that. To plan for a child, however ... no, it wouldn't hurt us to take some time doing that. We're still getting used to us being a family ourselves, let alone how three or four of us together would interact."

Seven nodded, thinking about this, trying to understand it all. Janeway regarded her affectionately, patiently waiting as the young woman worked out her thoughts. Finally, Seven took a breath.

"Sometimes I feel very ... inept," she admitted.

Janeway leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Welcome to Humanity, darling," she assured her.

Seven eyed her uncertainly. Was that all that was required to becoming fully Human?

"It seems a most precarious state of existence," she noted. "I thought I had everything under control at one point. Now it seems nothing in my life is certain."

Janeway tilted her head. "How I feel for you is, darling," she reminded her. "Always."

Seven shook her head. "Even that is uncertain," she explained sadly. "When you lost your memory, I discovered that what I thought would never change, suddenly did. It is improbable that it could ever happen again, but it is possible."

Janeway ran her finger over the rim of her glass, creating a thin hum that Seven suspected she heard a great deal better than the captain did. Otherwise, Kathryn would not persist in making such an annoying sound.

"Annika," Janeway said finally. "You're absolutely right. Nothing in this life is guaranteed. Yet, at the same time, you have to believe in certain things. How we feel about each other is one of them. Can you be content with that?"

Seven nodded. "I believe so," she said. "I want to be."

"I'm sure that will be all you need to get through the rest," the captain told her.

"It is still difficult," Seven said. "Even when I believe in us. Even when I believe in you."

"Yes, it is," Janeway agreed softly. "However, it's a lot better than the alternative."

Silence stretched between them again, each lost in their own thoughts. Seven rested her head on Janeway's abdomen, listening to the soft gurgles that went on beneath her ear.

"You are hungry," she noted after a while.

"A little," Janeway agreed. "How about you?"

Seven frowned. "Not particularly," she said.

"We have to eat," Janeway reminded her, catching Seven's chin between her forefinger and thumb, studying her intently. "Did you have lunch?"

Seven hesitated, then realized by doing so, she had given Janeway all the answer she required. "No," she admitted in a low voice.

"I didn't think so," Janeway said with a faintly indulgent tone. "Darling, I let you get away with no breakfast this morning, but you are going to eat now."

Seven sighed. "I do not feel like eating," she said.

"I know," Janeway responded. "But darling, if I have to look after myself, then you have to grant me that same courtesy. All right?"

Seven nodded. "Very well," she agreed.

Ungraciously. Janeway replicated a platter of vegetables, cheeses and crackers surrounding a bowl of a light dip. She believed the finger foods would either take care of their nutritional needs, or stimulate their hunger for something more substantial. As she refilled her wine, and poured Seven a glass, she wondered what she could do or say to make what they were going through a little easier for Seven. Why couldn't things go smoothly for us, she thought, somewhat crankily. Just once.

She carried the platter and the glasses back to the living area, placing the dishes on the coffee table. Jake perked up, an interested expression on his face, but a sharp word from her kept him on the other end, resting his head on the smooth surface as he eyed the platter and her with his most pleading look. Completely unmoved, Janeway stretched out on the couch once more, reaching over to retrieve a carrot stick, which she speared into the dip before offering it to Seven.

"Eat," she demanded.

Seven eyed her briefly, but obligingly opened her mouth, and took the carrot stick carefully between her teeth. That accomplished, Janeway gathered some vegetables for herself and munched on them, watching her partner approvingly as Seven started demolishing the mushrooms and the broccoli, which were always her favorites on such a platter.

"Did you get the cargo bay finished?" Janeway asked.

Seven nodded. "Yes," she said. "Not everything was destroyed. We were able to repair two of the alcoves using the remaining parts from the others."

Janeway nodded. "Good. I'd hate to be caught without a functioning alcove," she said.

Seven looked at her curiously. "Why?" she asked. "No one requires them."

"Isn't that what you thought the first time you had your abdominal implant removed?" Janeway asked pointedly.

Seven flushed a little. "I did," she allowed. "Then I was assimilated again."

"Believe me, I don't want that to happen, but we should have all our bases covered," Janeway said. Then at Seven's odd look at the simile, clarified. "We should be prepared for any event."

"You are correct," Seven said. She looked embarrassed. "That had not occurred to me when I ... when I went to the cargo bay."

"You weren't thinking clearly," Janeway said. "That happens. Fortunately, there was no harm done that we couldn't repair."

"I have never been so angry," Seven said slowly. "Not even when I was in that prison, and those aliens were hurting you. I do not understand why."

Janeway sipped at her wine. "I'm not sure, Annika," she allowed. "Perhaps it was because in the prison, you could do something to stop me from being hurt. This is something you can do nothing about."

"So I feel helpless," Seven said with an expression of dawning realization. "I do not believe I have ever really felt helpless before. Not like this." She glanced at Janeway. "Is this the same type of anger you get when you feel completely helpless?"

"Probably," Janeway allowed contemplatively. "There's a fine line between frustration and helplessness, and I think until now, you've only experienced the former. The latter is a lot rougher to deal with, at least for me. Like you, I just want to smash things. And like you, I had to learn what was acceptable behavior in dealing with that anger."

"I felt only frustration in my dream," Seven revealed. "I want to get to the door and I believe that if I can only be clever enough, I can find a way."

Janeway thought about that. "Originally I was frightened," she said thoughtfully. "Then I began to get frustrated, too, but now, I'm finding it all somewhat tedious. Even when I recognize it as a dream, and imagine myself as having what I consider necessary equipment, such as ropes and pitons, I only delay the inevitable."

She did not tell Seven about the time she managed to get a rope across to snag on a projection just above the door, and swung over. Unfortunately, it seemed she misjudged the distance, and the result reminded her uncomfortably of an animated 2D film she saw in a museum once when she was a child; of a coyote in eternal pursuit of a roadrunner, of how much she probably resembled him when she slammed face first into the cliff, and slid ignominiously down the rock before waking up.

"Now," she added, munching a celery stick. "I just jump off the ledge as soon as I realize I'm in the dream. Once I started doing that, the dreams lessened in both frequency and intensity."

"Is that what you suggest I do?" Seven asked.

Janeway considered it. "I don't know, Annika," she said. "Obviously, the fact that so many people are having the same dream is significant, but I haven't figured out why. As time goes by, I wonder how important it is. Certainly, the dreams don't seem to be causing any real harm beyond the initial disturbance, and now I believe that's more a result of having the same dream over and over, as well as the experience of the first few falls. The dream itself, isn't really all that frightening. It does bother me however, that you've suddenly started to have them."

"Something changed for me to begin having them long after you and the others did," Seven agreed. She sipped her wine, her eyes distant as she thought. "The only thing I can think of is that I discovered I could not conceive offspring."

Janeway studied her closely, wanting to know how much that was still affecting her partner. Seven seemed a lot easier with it this day, and Janeway knew the young woman was a remarkably adaptable being. Even the strongest of blows were something she seemed to rebound from relatively quickly. However, the captain was not going to allow herself to accept such an easy a conclusion, and promised herself she would continue to keep an eye on her lover, making sure to be there if the slightest hint of distress was indicated.

"That was a loss," Janeway said slowly. "I wonder ... I lost my memories. B'Elanna has lost Chakotay. Naomi lost her teddy bear."

Seven looked at her. "Do you think that is the trigger?" she asked curiously. "A loss of some sort?"

Janeway shook her head briefly. "I don't know," she said. "I'm just thinking out loud, darling. Not everyone is having the dream, so those that are must have something in common. I'm just trying to guess what, and once we have more information, we'll be able to come up with better conclusions."

"Indeed," Seven noted, and acquired some more cheese and crackers.

Her face grew still, distant as she tangled mentally with the problem, and Janeway eased back on the cushions, enjoying this exchange of ideas between them. She thought suddenly that this was one of the primary reasons she loved Seven so much. She truly liked her as a person, liked being with her. There was a deep friendship, a comfort level between them that the captain had never experienced with anyone else. Even in the most mundane of circumstances, such as relaxing here in their quarters, snacking on finger food, and quietly talking, was something that gave her great joy. There was a sense of belonging in being with Seven, a warmth that permeated the very air around them.

"Hey," she said softly.

Seven glanced at her, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

"I adore you."

The smile then, wide and rich and so very rare, one only the captain seemed able to draw from the young woman, spreading across the stern features to give them a glow of happiness that reached out and grabbed Janeway's heart in a grip that was almost painful in its intensity. Seven got up, moving closer and Janeway shifted over against the back of the couch to allow her partner to stretch out beside her, the pair of them snuggling together on the somewhat narrow cushions.

"I love you," Seven assured her once they had settled themselves. She searched the captain's face, then Janeway was granted another of those glowing smiles. "I am going to enjoy being married to you."

"Do you think things will change all that much?" Janeway asked curiously.

Seven's brows drew down a little. "I believe the perception of us will," she responded. "Have you noticed that people are already treating us in a different manner?"

Janeway's eyes widened. "I have," she said. "I thought I was imagining it."

Seven tried to press closer against the captain, being perched somewhat precariously on the edge of the cushions. "I believe that this ceremony is very important," the young woman said. "More than we realized. Everyone is affected by the formality of it ... the permanence it implies. I think that as long as we were only engaged, everyone carried with them the possibility that we would not remain together."

"A marriage certificate is no guarantee of anything," Janeway pointed out.

"No, but it signifies that we believe in the permanence of our relationship," Seven said. "So they will, as well. I do not think I understood that until I began planning this." She hesitated, then looked apologetic. "I know I have been leaving you out of some of those plans. I am sorry. It was never my intention."

Janeway kissed her gently. "Annika, you just continue to explain to me everything that you're doing, all right?" she said. "I'll let you know if I want to add or remove anything."

"I shall," the Borg promised. She glanced over her shoulder. "I am going to fall."

Janeway pulled her closer. "I won't let you fall," she promised warmly. "Never." She smiled and kissed her gently. "Of course, this sort of thing would be a trifle easier in the bedroom."

Seven's eyebrow quirked. "What 'sort of thing'?"

Janeway regarded her oddly, wondering if she was being teased, then suddenly they were slipping off the couch, landing on the deck with a muted thud. Jake yelped as he had to make a quick exit from beneath their falling bodies, skittering across the room before looking back at them admonishingly. The captain started to laugh, struggling to escape the tangle, getting to her feet breathlessly.

Seven, lying on her back, made a half hearted grab for her. "You said you would not let me fall," she pointed out in a vaguely accusing tone.

Janeway grinned, looking down at her with her hands on her hips. "I guess what I meant was that I wouldn't let you fall alone," she amended.

"Ah, a misrepresentation," Seven remarked. She made another swipe for the smaller woman which the captain neatly avoided. "I do believe I deserve some compensation for such falsehood."

Janeway looked down at her, hands on her hips, tilting her head slightly.

"Oh, you do?" she responded archly. "I guess you'd have to catch me first."

She abruptly sprinted for the bedroom, delighted when Seven abruptly sprang from the floor and pelted eagerly after her, catching her just as they entered the other room, their momentum carrying them through the air to land heavily on the mattress. Janeway was considerably gratified that the bed seemed to be made of sturdy materials. She wiggled beneath her partner, testing the grip the young woman had on her wrists, pinning her down.

"Now, about my compensation," Seven noted evenly, looking down at her captive with pale eyes that warmed Janeway through.

The captain lowered her brows. "I think that Ferengi from your subconscious is starting to show up again," she murmured, trying to raise her head up high enough to grab a kiss.

Seven drew back, forestalling the attempt. It was clear she was in command here, and rather liking it.

"He would require latinum and oomax," she noted sternly. "I require so much more than merely having my ears caressed."

Janeway smiled widely. "Then I guess I'll have to see what I can come up with," she allowed.

Seven considered that.

"Allow me," she said. Seven regarded the ceiling contemplatively, feeling her heartbeat finally slow its rapid pace, her breathing becoming more even as Janeway slumped against her, the captain's perspiration covering them both, drying in the cool air. Janeway shivered and Seven reached down to pull the bedding up around them, making a warm little nest for them both before resuming her inspection of the ceiling.

"What happened to the mirror?" she asked, puzzled.

Janeway raised her head off Seven's chest. "You told me you wanted it removed," she said with surprise. "I had maintenance come and take it away this morning."

"Oh," Seven said. She vaguely remembered having that thought the previous evening, but she didn't think she had said it out loud. Apparently she had, and the captain had acted on the wish immediately. That was something that Janeway was prone to do ever since they had fallen in love a second time.  This new Janeway was an incredibly thoughtful and loving person.

Seven hesitated, then her innate honesty forced her to correct that thought. It was easy to conclude that the captain was much nicer and warmer since losing her memories, but the truth was, prior to that, there had also been a gentleness and caring displayed toward Seven that perhaps the young woman was not giving Janeway credit for. After all, Kathryn had seen fit to install the mirror in the first place after Seven had requested it, had done little things like having Neelix hold dances rather than talent nights, had found a multitude of presents for Seven's birthday. Perhaps it had been a matter of Janeway not being as comfortable or as easy in showing her love, but Seven had no doubt that Kathryn Janeway had loved her as completely then, as she did now.

Perhaps the loss of her memories had simply allowed Janeway to suddenly be the person she wanted to be, rather than the one she had been struggling to evolve into. Seven thought about that for a long moment, decided she rather liked that perception, and hugged her partner close.

"Kathryn?"

"Hmm?" Janeway murmured, having settled closer to Seven, and on the verge of drowsing off.

"I love you," Seven said. She paused. "I wish I had more words. Why do Humans have so many words for aggression, and so few for love?"

Janeway yawned. "I don't know, darling," she replied. "Maybe it's easier to describe hating than it is to express how incredibly wonderful it is to love someone and to be loved by them."

"Perhaps I shall create a new word for how I feel for you," Seven said. "One beyond love."

"What's beyond love?" Janeway asked sleepily.

"How I feel for you," Seven responded promptly.

Janeway laughed. "Circular argument, my dear," she said. "Not good mathematics."

"No," Seven agreed. "However, it is a concept I shall think about nonetheless." She paused. "I wonder if this is what B'Elanna meant. To have so much love that it just goes on and on without end, so that others must be brought in to share in it."

"Perhaps," Janeway mumbled. She shifted so that she was more to Seven's side, tucked neatly into the embrace of the Borg's left arm.

"You are going to sleep," Seven accused lightly.

"Doing my best," Janeway muttered agreement. "Is there some reason I shouldn't?"

Seven considered it. "No," she allowed in a gentler tone. "No reason."

She smiled as she felt Janeway snuggle closer against her, her breathing smoothing out almost immediately. The captain had almost recovered completely from her ordeal in the prison, and now tended to sleep through the night without pause. The Doctor had explained that most of Janeway's wounds were psychological rather than physical, but time and Seven's love would heal them quickly. She was gratified that he had been correct, though she was less pleased with him that he had not told her about her reproductive system sooner.

She supposed that he had his reasons, and that she should not be annoyed with him, that it was counterproductive and hardly made things better, but she did not know how to resolve this anger toward the hologram. She knew that she would have to eventually, for Kathryn's sake if not her own. The captain was uncomfortable when her crew did not get along, and would expect her to work it out with the Doctor.

Seven took a breath and looked back up at the ceiling. She decided that she did not really miss the reflection above her that much. In the beginning it had been exciting to watch Kathryn make love to her, but over time, it had become commonplace, and eventually she stopped watching altogether, finding more pleasure in concentrating on her partner rather than on the visual aid. Perhaps it was something that should have only been used infrequently, on special occasions to stimulate their love life, rather than as a constant complement. In that event, the large mirror in the ensuite was more than suitable, and she felt a tingle as she thought about it. After all, though she still remembered how it had been making love standing in front of it, Kathryn most likely did not. It would be enjoyable to introduce her partner to that experience.

She heard Jake shift around in the outer room, and she noted that she could hear each of his individual claws rasp over the carpet. It seemed that all her senses were becoming more acute as time passed, and she wondered if she should mention that to Kathryn. Then she decided that Kathryn would then insist that she see the Doctor about it, and Seven simply wasn't ready for that yet.

She would wait until she settled things with him.

Her thoughts grew more disjointed, scattering as she mused over her upcoming nuptials, sleep drawing her into dreams without her being aware of it. She drifted through visions of weddings and children, not sure when the dream suddenly altered, only aware of the cold, driving rain suddenly battering her face.

I am dreaming, she thought, with a sudden clarity she had never experienced before in this state. Perhaps because she had discussed it so much with Kathryn before going to bed.

She concentrated, and there was a rope in her hand, just as her partner had managed. She attached it to the rock above her head, unconcerned by the fact that there was now a projection there that had never existed before. The other end, she tied into a loop, ignoring the ledge that was steadily crumbling beneath her, or that her footing was growing progressively more unstable. She tossed the loop across the gorge with unerring accuracy, catching it on the protrusion set just above the door. She reached up and grabbed onto the outstretched rope just as the last of the rock disintegrated beneath her feet, leaving her dangling over nothing.

Calmly, she propelled herself hand over hand across the chasm, ending up on the ledge on the other side. She did not stop to study the engravings, the urge to enter the door much stronger here than on the other side. She reached out and grasped the metal handle, pushing against it. The door swung open easily, and she stepped into the darkness beyond.

There was a flicker of light and she waited patiently as it approached, coalescing into a figure, tall, slender, pale, dressed in long robes. The features were long and narrow, the eyes a solid sapphire blue while silver hair flowed from a single knot at the apex of the skull down the being's back. When it spoke, its voice was like music, flowing around Seven like water.

"Welcome. We have been waiting for you."

Seven tilted her head. "For me?" she said with surprise.

The being nodded. "For someone who has lost as we have," it responded. "Only you could know our story. Only you would understand it, and be able to pass it on. We touch so many minds as they pass by, but only someone like you would maintain your interest, or continue to try to reach us."

"What is it that grants me this ability?" Seven asked.

"Come with me," the being said, gesturing down what Seven now saw was a tunnel. "We shall explain. You shall be told all."

Seven followed the being down the short tunnel to where it opened into a gigantic cavern, so huge that its far boundary was lost in the distance. There were row upon row of tables upon which snowy white sheets covered small, unidentifiable lumps.

Seven glanced at the being, noting the huge crystalline tears that ran from the glowing eyes. "See this," it said. "Know our story."

As it told her, Seven understood and wept too, for herself and for these people and all they had lost.

She woke up crying, much to the concern of her partner who was holding her close, staring at her in the illumination of morning watch.

"Annika, are you all right?" Janeway said with dismay. "What's wrong?"

Seven fought to compose herself, clinging to the captain tightly.

"I understand now," she told her. "I know what the dreams mean."

She stifled a sob. "Oh, Kathryn, it is so terrible," she said. Captain Janeway sat at the head of the table in the conference room, observing her senior staff with impassive interest. She took note of how and where they were all sitting, assessing their demeanor, and judging how the information she was about to reveal to them would affect them. She knew it had certainly affected her. Her insides were still all twisted up, and it took an effort to keep her eyes level, her face calm and unaffected.

Chakotay entered the room, and he handed her a padd before taking a seat on her left. On her right, Tuvok raised an eyebrow, faintly inquiring as she perused it. She knew the Vulcan must be as curious as everyone else, though he hid it much better. Beyond Chakotay, Neelix and the Doctor waited quietly for the meeting to begin, while across from them, B'Elanna and Harry Kim were deep in conversation. Tom Paris sat beyond them and Seven sat in her customary spot at the far end of the table, directly facing the captain.

Janeway made a mental note of how Seven kept looking away, and unconsciously leaning to the side every time the Doctor glanced in her direction. Seven had been avoiding the Doctor ever since that day, and it was clear that she did not want to sit so close to him. Despite having been the bearer of bad tidings, Janeway knew the Doctor truly cared for Seven, having acted as her mentor in the beginning, and all of this had to be causing him some difficulty now. She thought she would have to speak to them both before long.

"I do not know how many of you are aware that members of the crew have been experiencing a certain recurring dream," she said, taking control of the staff meeting just that easily, simply by starting to speak. "The images begin with the dreamer finding themselves standing on a ledge on the side of the cliff, unable to cross a chasm which prevents the dreamer from opening a door on the other side. Yet the dreamer feels impelled to open it, with a need that is almost painful in its intensity. The ledge proceeds to crumble, the dreamer falls, and the person inevitably awakes. We have discovered that 15 people on Voyager have been going through this, including myself, B'Elanna, and Seven."

Tuvok cleared his throat slightly and she eyed him, raising an eyebrow.

"Sixteen people, Captain," he said shortly. "I too, have been experiencing such a dream."

Janeway nodded briefly, wondering what it was that he had lost. From what she could gather from B'Elanna's report, and from those she had spoken with, an emotional loss did seem to be the recurring theme; even if on occasion, the loss seemed insignificant such as Naomi having lost her favorite toy. Though Janeway supposed, it had been quite distressing to the child until Neelix had finally been able to find it in a corner of holodeck two. She sought out the eyes of her partner who was looking back at her, a shadow drifting across those pale irises.

"Three nights ago, Seven of Nine discovered what was behind the dreams," she added delicately.

Intrigued, startled, everyone focused their attention on Seven who, at Janeway's encouraging nod, began to speak.

"They are called the Qurelinin," Seven said quietly. "The last of their kind died out in this sector some two thousand years ago, but they left behind a message to those who would pass through, wanting to tell their story in an attempt to warn others of following in their path of destruction. The transmission arrived in the form of electrical impulses which matched certain of the REM patterns of specific humanoid species, appearing to many as a dream, or a vision. However, unless the dreamer was motivated or was properly prepared to accept and understand the message, they would not receive the full transmission."

"I'm not sure I follow," Tom Paris interrupted at this point. "'Prepared'?"

"The people who experienced the dreams had all suffered a loss of some sort in the recent past," Janeway said. "In my case, it was my memories, my sense of who I was. Other people had lost cherished items or had just ended romances." She very carefully did not look at either B'Elanna or Chakotay at this point. The fact that B'Elanna had experienced the dream, and Chakotay apparently had not, was clear indication that while the Klingon had considered their breakup a true loss, the first officer didn't. Or perhaps he had just made peace with it quicker. It was not for the captain to say.

"Is that why you requested we check out that planet two days ago?" Harry asked suddenly.

Janeway nodded. "Yes, it was our belief that it had been their home planet at one time," she explained. "The artifact you scanned was indeed, a transmitter of sorts."

The morning after Seven's revelation, Janeway had the ship's long range sensors scan for anything in the vicinity, coming up with a system a few light years back which Voyager had passed a couple of weeks before. Janeway supposed that in another week, they would have been beyond its range altogether, and the dreams would have died out altogether, with them never having known why their sleep had been interrupted. The Delta Flyer with Harry Kim, B'Elanna, Tom and Seven had been dispatched to back track their course, and a quick scan of the planet had revealed a cavern deep inside a mountain.  There had been nothing inside other than dust, and the strange mechanism which closer examination revealed was the dream transmitter. Seven had recognized the interior as the place she had been in her dream, the cavern which had contained row upon row of small, dead bodies. The Delta Flyer had returned with their report only that morning, and now the captain was using this staff meeting to bring her people up to date.

"The Qurelinin were a relatively long lived species, but it was not enough for them," Seven went on softly. "They wished to live longer, to effectively become immortal, and in this pursuit, they devoted most of their scientific resources to discovering a method to cease the aging process. They succeeded."

"At an awful price," Janeway said quietly when Seven paused, drawing the staff's attention to the captain so that they would not see the brief struggle that her partner briefly underwent in order to compose herself.

"They discovered that they could absorb the energy of others, increasing their life span the corresponding amount of years that the other had remaining," the Borg continued. "It did not take them long to realize that the younger the being the energy was drawn from, the longer the life span of the one absorbing it."

"They became a form of parasite," the Doctor noted.

"More like a vampire," Harry commented, looking a little ill.

"Their children became their primary source of life energy, so much so that offspring were being conceived and borne simply to extend the life of their parents," Seven explained, and the true horror of where this was going finally dawned on the rest.

"Oh god," B'Elanna said, looking at Seven compassionately, and Janeway knew that the engineer realized why Seven had been the one 'chosen' to uncover the secret behind the Qurelinin dream message.

"Eventually, the adults aged beyond their ability to have children, and they fell upon each other until finally, only a few survivors who had come to realize the consequences of their actions, remained," Janeway said. "They put together this message in the hopes that others would be warned. However, they believed that only one who had experienced a similar loss could truly understand the folly of what they had done, and could explain it to others."

"That was Seven?" Chakotay said, looking at the Borg uncertainly. "You've experienced this sort of loss?"

Seven took a breath, and Janeway was about to interfere, change the subject, divert the topic but the Borg looked directly at the first officer.

"Yes," she said evenly. "I too, believed I had lost my children." She glanced at Janeway. "However, unlike them, I have come to realize that the Qurelinin's real loss was not in destroying themselves, but in having forgotten the true reasons for having children. To love and to cherish them. They did not understand that it was not their immortality they had lost, but their future."

Seven shook her head sorrowfully. "Even in the end, they still mourned the loss of their own lives, and not the children they had sacrificed. I can translate their message, but I shall never truly understand it."

"All the reports of this, including those of the away team are contained the padds in front of you," Captain Janeway said, bringing the incident to a close. She supposed she should be grateful that it had all turned out so ... well, unthreatening in the end, though she knew it would take some time before her partner was over the emotional fallout of the past few days. "Please assure anyone in your respective departments that it is unlikely there will be any further dreams of this nature." She paused, regarding them a few seconds. "If there's nothing further, then you're all dismissed."

"A moment, Captain," Chakotay interjected.

Since no one had stirred at her dismissal, Janeway knew that her crew had been expecting this, and she experienced a mild sort of annoyance. She hated it when other people seemed to know what was going on and she didn't.

"Go ahead," she said evenly.

"There's been a lot of rumors and talk and speculation the past few weeks regarding a certain upcoming event, but absolutely nothing official," her first officer said in a serious tone. "Don't you think it's time to fill in the crew?"

Startled, Janeway looked at Seven, and was surprised to find the Borg was smiling faintly. Belatedly, she realized that Chakotay's eyes had taken on an amused glow, and she took a breath, regarding her senior staff with slight exasperation.

"If you insist," she said, attempting to look more blasé than she really felt. "During the Prixin celebration, Seven ... Annika ... and I shall be solidifying our union with a formal ceremony binding us as a couple." She paused, regarding them sardonically. "Yes, you're all invited. Neelix, if you would be so kind as to tender some sort of formal announcement?"

"Actually, Captain," he said, pulling a white rectangle from his jacket. "We are prepared to send out the invitations to every crewmember immediately. Pending your approval of the final version, of course."

He handed her the envelope, and feeling every eye in the room on her, she slid out the card, opening it up to read the interior.

"Out loud," the Doctor suggested cheerfully.

She shot him a look, but obliged him as well as her partner who was regarding her with bright, expectant eyes. Well, Janeway supposed, it certainly wasn't anything she was ashamed of, so in a proud voice, she recited:

"You are cordially invited
to attend the commitment ceremony
of
Kathryn Anne,
daughter of
Admiral Edward and Gretchen
Janeway
to
Annika Katrine,
daughter of
Doctors Magnus and Erin
Hansen
on the first night of the
3456th Prixin Celebration."

She found herself looking at Seven, grinning rather foolishly before realizing what she was doing, and had to take a few seconds to compose her features into a more serious expression. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, and knew she must be blushing.

"Why Captain, you're all aglow," the Doctor noted helpfully.

"Thank you," she said in a tone of deep irony. "I was concerned not everyone would notice."

Chakotay was leaning back in his chair, his eyes bright with humor, though he kept his lips firmly pressed together. Tom Paris and Harry Kim however, were grinning openly as was B'Elanna. Neelix looked very excited and Seven ... Seven looked as she always did, calm, cool but with the unmistakable warmth in her eyes that it seemed only the captain ever saw.

"Now, if I'm quite done entertaining you all, I do have some duties to attend to," Janeway said dryly.

Taking the hint, there was a rustle as they started to their feet, heading for the door. A quiet word to Tuvok and Chakotay kept the two men lingering in the conference room, and they looked at her expectantly once the door had shut on the others.

"Gentlemen, apparently I am expected to have two or three of my closest friends stand with me during the ceremony," she said briskly, trying to make this as professional as possible. "I would be honored if you would fulfill that requirement."

She was surprised when Chakotay swept her up in a big hug. "You bet, Kathryn," he said warmly. He smiled down at her. "I understand it's a Klingon tradition to make sure we're either there to keep you from running, or if necessary, clear the way if you need to run."

"Ah," she said, flustered. "I had wondered."

Tuvok nodded, his dark eyes glowing slightly. "I would honored to stand by you, Captain," he said.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," Janeway said. She eyed them both as they stood there, looking at her. "You can go now. I promise I won't try to run."

Chakotay smiled. "Why would you, Kathryn?" he asked impishly.

"After all, where could you run to?"

"Oh dear," Janeway said.

Suddenly, this had gotten much more real ... and very imminent.

Epilogue

Seven of Nine sat in her quarters, toying with the padds that were scattered over the coffee table in front of her. She knew she was supposed to be resting, but she had been too restless, coming out here to work. However, her thoughts kept drifting away to a species that was so self absorbed, they had sacrificed their own children for themselves. She wondered if that was what she had been doing, sacrificing a child of Kathryn and herself on the alter of her own survival, requiring a part of Kathryn to live on in order to give her reason to live, as well.

There was so much she did not understand about some things, she thought. So much she had to learn about herself, Kathryn, and all the other people that made up the pattern of their lives ... and would perhaps make up that pattern in the future.

"Annika?"

She looked up to see a robed Janeway standing in the doorway to their bedroom, hair mussed, a sleepy expression on her face, rubbing her eyes like a child herself, and the Borg felt a wave of tenderness sweep through her.

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"Are you coming to bed?" her partner asked, regarding her with concern.

"I shall," Seven promised.

"Are you afraid of going to sleep?" Janeway asked bluntly. "I don't think there are going to be any more nightmares."

Seven smiled a bit wryly. "At least, not of the Qurelinin," she agreed.

Janeway hesitated, then came over and took the Borg's hands, tugging her off the couch. "Come to bed," she said softly, looking up into her face with sincere intent. "I promise I'll protect you from all the bad dreams."

Seven smiled sadly at the words, knowing it was a promise that could not be kept, not even by Kathryn, but wanting to believe in it anyway. She allowed herself to be led into the bedroom, warmed by the feeling of Janeway's arm wrapped tightly around her waist as she rested her own across the smaller woman's shoulders.

"Can you protect me from the bad reality?" she asked idly as she began to remove her outfit.

Janeway paused, her robe tossed onto the foot of the bed, already halfway between the sheets. She turned around, reaching out for Seven, enfolding her into an warm embrace.

"Annika, darling, sometimes you just have to get through the reality until it becomes nothing more than a bad dream," the captain told her partner quietly. "And other times, you work like hell to make wonderful dreams become an even better reality." She kissed her gently on the chin. "In one week, you and I shall be married. I can't imagine a better reality than that."

Seven bent her head, resting her cheek against the captain's temple, loving her utterly.

"Neither can I, Kathryn," she admitted, smiling into the dark.

"Neither can I."

The End

Our couple's middle names are my speculation only and of course, are subject to change should the show ever reveal a little more about our ladies.

•  This is the 14th installment in the series that refuses to die.  This is what I call the wedding episode and took a great deal of evil pleasure with the details.

• Please be warned, the saccharin level in this one is such that anyone with high blood sugar should perhaps steer clear.

• Also please note there is a love scene in here that is quite explicit.  Not that I haven't written explicit love scenes before, but a definite male element crept into this one.  Sort of.  Not everyone might be comfortable with that.

• Appreciation goes out to Shaych who provided the title.

• This story was written and posted around the first of February, 1999 ... in time for Valentine's Day *evil grin*.

Just Between Promises
G. L. Dartt

The dress was a snowy white, long and sleek with lace scattered over the front and shoulders. It hung gracefully within the closet, patiently waiting to fulfill its destiny; to be worn by a bride who would not necessarily be blushing but certainly would be fully aware of the significance of the situation. Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, regarded it somberly, feeling tiny flutters ripple through her stomach and wondered, if she felt this way the day before, how she would ever survive the actual ceremony itself.

Seven was a formidable figure, standing six feet tall in her heels with white-blond hair done up in an austere bun and pale eyes the color of blue ice. Metallic gray implants framing the left eye and adorning the right cheek just in front of her ear gave stark reminder of her time in the Borg Collective while the brown mesh outfit covering her curvaceous form made her appear imposing and severe. The young woman glanced at her reflection in the huge mirror hanging over the sink counter and tried to understand how she could look so calm and collected on the outside when she felt like she was going to projectile vomit at any second.

When the idea had been introduced a few months previously by her partner that they get married during Prixin, the Talaxian holiday celebrating family, Seven had been immediate in her agreement. She had thrown herself eagerly in all the preparations such a ceremony required, collaborating with others in the crew; B'Elanna Torres, Samantha Wildman and her daughter Naomi as well as the ship's medical assistant, Sek, all of whom either had some experience with the situation, or were full of ideas and eager to help. In her zeal, Seven had left the captain somewhat out of the planning stage, but Janeway did not appear to mind and in fact, actually seemed relieved that Seven was looking after everything. Now, however, the planning and preparation was complete, and all Seven had to do now was wait. And anticipate.

With anticipation, came the unusual queasiness.

Seven wondered if this was what was known as nervousness. Having been assimilated by the Collective at age six and spending eighteen years as a Borg drone before being isolated and cut off from the unified mind by Janeway whom she had subsequently fallen in love with, there was still much about being Human that Seven did not quite comprehend. Participating in a wedding, about to begin her life in what apparently was a new state of existence, made her quite uncertain about everything she was feeling now.

"Seven?"

Seven was startled by the sudden appearance of her partner in the ensuite doorway. She had not even heard the woman come into their quarters, a decided abnormality considering the fact that her senses, particularly her hearing, were greatly enhanced by the Borg implants and nanoprobes still infesting her body.

"Kathryn," she responded, a little more faintly than she intended. "I did not realize your duty shift had ended."

Captain Kathryn Janeway, though smaller and more compact than her partner, was quite formidable herself, radiating an authority and presence that impressed her peers and intimidated everyone else. Her level blue-grey eyes were perplexed as she regarded her partner, then she tilted her head slightly, her voice softening.

"Is something wrong, Annika?" she asked.

That was Seven's Human name, the one designated her by her parents all those years ago. Though Seven had allowed others to call her by that unfamiliar name ... B'Elanna, the ship's security chief, Tuvok, and Naomi ... the captain was the only one who used it on a regular basis. And then, because it was only when they were both off duty or alone, it seemed more a term of endearment than a designation.

Seven swallowed. "I believe I am ... nervous," she said honestly.

A faint smile ghosted over Janeway's lips. "About tomorrow?" she asked.

Mutely, Seven nodded and Janeway moved into the room, sliding her arms around the tall blonde's waist. "There's no need to be," the captain said gently, looking up at her with the warm glow of adoration in her eyes. "I love you and you love me. That will never change. All tomorrow does is make our relationship a formal declaration."

"I know," Seven allowed as she pulled the smaller woman closer to her. "I am aware that we have lived as a couple and a family unit for several months and that we shall continue to do so after tomorrow. I know that nothing shall really change between us yet ... I still feel as if it will. And I am ... apprehensive." She frowned. "I do not know why."

"Jitters," Janeway said, the corner of her mouth curled in amusement. "I would have thought your Borg background would have made you immune, but apparently you're going to be like every other bride in the course of human history."

Seven took a breath. "It is not pleasant," she complained. She looked down into her lover's face curiously. "Are you nervous?"

Janeway eased away from the embrace and went over to the sink, looking at herself in the mirror as she adjusted her hair and straightened the red and black tunic with a quick tug on the hem. "I've faced Borg, Species 8472, and the Hirogen. I've stood before Review Boards and explained my actions before more admirals than I'd care to think about," she said casually. "What would I have to be nervous about?"

Which did not necessarily answer her question, Seven noted. Indeed, the very act of Janeway fussing with her hair and uniform was not something the Borg was accustomed to seeing from her partner, but she chose not to point that out. Instead, she moved closer to the captain, coming up behind her to capture the blue-grey glance with her own in their combined reflection.

"I must go out this evening," Seven told her, feeling a sense of unease steal over her. "B'Elanna has planned something called a 'bridal shower'. I am not sure what that is, but it is supposedly a tradition of sorts, and for some reason, you cannot attend even though you are also a bride."

Janeway smiled at her in the mirror. "Darling, that's perfectly fine with me," she replied easily. "I'm quite content to spend a quiet evening here. There are a few reports I should wrap up before tomorrow, especially if I'm not returning to duty for a full week."

Seven nodded. The captain seemed sincere in her relief not to be attending the party, but it still bothered the young woman. She did not like being separated from Kathryn, even in this sort of situation. Carefully, she leaned down and kissed Janeway on the back of her neck, brushing back the rich auburn hair to press her lips against the soft skin.

"There is a part of me that wishes that we could spend this last evening together," she murmured. "Just you and I."

Janeway shivered a little, and Seven could see the captain close her eyes, a tiny grin curling the corner of her mouth. "That would be wonderful," Janeway responded in the low, husky tone which never failed to thrill the Borg thoroughly. "However, there are all kinds of traditions surrounding this event, and I suppose, since we only intend to go through it once, we should celebrate them all. Besides, we do have the honeymoon for this sort of thing."

"I am looking forward to it," Seven whispered and gently pulled Janeway around so that she was facing her directly. Bending her head, she kissed her partner, slowly, deeply, lingering over the wine shaded lips with a quiet pleasure. Janeway returned the kiss, pressing her body against her as Seven lost herself in their embrace.

The sound of the chime to their quarters interrupted the moment and regretfully, Seven released the captain.

"Was B'Elanna meeting you here?" Janeway asked quizzically as they exited the ensuite and the bedroom to the main room of their quarters.

Their Irish Setter, Jake, was standing before the entrance, his tail waving gently as he eyed the door expectantly and Seven had to nudge him aside as she answered it.

Chakotay stood there with a large vegetable platter in his arms while behind him, the ship's navigator, Tom Paris, operations officer, Harry Kim, the security chief, Tuvok, and assorted other members of the crew also waited expectantly, burdened with additional items of food and bottles of various colored liquids.

Seven glanced back at the captain, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe it is for you," she said.

Janeway stared in astonishment as Seven made her exit and a good portion of her crew filed in. Laughing, chattering, making a big fuss over Jake, they took over the captain's quarters before she could object, quickly and professionally removing all the statues and knickknacks off the tables and shelves, storing them neatly in one corner of the room before refilling the cleared surfaces with a huge variety of food and liquor. Tom Paris shoved a large glass brimming with some sort of golden liquid into her hand and smiled widely at her.

"Don't worry, Captain," he promised her. "We'll clean it all up before we leave."

Stunned, she automatically raised the glass to her lips, choking a little as the whiskey and soda hit her tonsils, burning its way down her throat. She hadn't even known that her crew was aware of the combination she preferred when indulging. She eyed Chakotay who drifted over to her, raising an eyebrow at the impertinent grin creasing his dark, handsome features. His tribal tattoo crinkled as he put a companionable hand on her shoulder.

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is," she said to him in a warning tone.

His grin grew bigger. "Honestly, you don't think we could have let you get married without a bachelor party, did you?" he asked.

"When did I get to be the 'bachelor'?" Janeway asked testily.

"I think it's because you're the captain, Captain," Harry Kim said without thinking. "Seven has always been more ... well ... I mean, Seven's more ..."

He faltered, stumbling as he heard what was coming out of his mouth. The boyish Paris took pity on his friend, slapping him on the back.

"Take another drink, Harry," he said and looked at Janeway. "Honestly Captain, it's only because Seven's wearing the dress and you're wearing the uniform. Otherwise, you could easily have been at the bridal shower B'Elanna's throwing down the hall and Seven could be here, at the stag bash. But don't worry, I suspect most of the crew will attend both at one point or another throughout the evening. And it's not like we're having exotic dancers or anything."

"Glad to hear it," she said with honest relief. She glared at Chakotay. "If I had known you were going to do this, I would have requested that only Tuvok stand with me."

"Actually Captain," the dark skinned Vulcan in question interjected at that moment, suddenly appearing at her side. "I suspect that I shall find this tradition quite fascinating."

"Et tu, Tuvok?" Janeway said, looking up at him. "You're in on this?."

"It is your last night of being unmarried," he said evenly, the tips of his pointed ears catching the light as he tilted his head slightly. "While I spent this time in solitary meditation, you are hardly the sort to do so."

"I don't think I'm the sort to party with wild abandon either," she objected, taking another sip of her whiskey and soda. "And I hope B'Elanna has no intention of getting Seven intoxicated the night before the ceremony."

"I don't believe B'Elanna has any intention of doing that," Chakotay assured her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Besides, Seven's a big girl, Kathryn. She wouldn't do anything that you wouldn't." He raised his glass and projected his voice. "So here's to our resident Borg. May you and Seven of Nine both be forever happy in your life together."

"Here, here," Tom echoed and obligingly, everyone in the room drank up.

Janeway smiled charmingly at them. "I'll get you for this," she promised sweetly.

"Counting on it," Chakotay grinned, completely unconcerned and moved off.

Music began playing over the intercom, overlying the roar of the many conversations with a beat that made it difficult to hear. Some of Tom's 'rock and roll' no doubt, Janeway thought and wondered who was minding the ship. She debated trying to slip out and check on the bridge but the amount of well-wishers between her and the door stymied that idea. Besides, she thought, there were people here she rarely had a chance to interact with and it was apparent that the entire ship was choosing to celebrate her upcoming nuptials. It would be ungracious of her in the extreme to sneak out of her own party.

Resigning herself to the inevitable, she began to circulate through the crowd, accepting congratulations and the various compliments on her choice of life partner, none of which she felt she could argue with. She was careful to keep her drink close by, sipping from it slowly, determined not to let herself go over her limit.

She did not notice in all the crush and confusion that the level of liquid in the tall glass never seemed to go down much, distracted by various conversations as others made a point of keeping her constantly topped off. After all, it was a party and it would not do for the one being honored to find herself with an empty glass.

The crowd was boisterous, raising their glasses often as she and Seven were saluted in a multitude of ways, the couple's various features singled out and praised extravagantly. Starting off with the women's intellect, their various engineering and scientific accomplishments and their professional abilities, it did not take that long before they were reduced to the baser and less lofty attributes such as Seven's chest. However, by that time, Janeway was well past noticing how much she had drank and more than amenable to raising her glass in agreement to each and every toast.

She noticed Tuvok in a corner at one point, how he seemed so isolated from everyone even in the middle of a crowd. She wormed her way through the seething mass and drew him aside with a firm hand on his elbow.

"Tuvok," she said, her words slurring slightly. "I've been meaning to speak with you."

"Indeed, captain," he said, raising an delicately angled eyebrow at her. "For what purpose?"

"It's come to my attention that you've been a little down in the dumps recently," she said.

"'Down in the dumps'?" he echoed.

"Depressed," she clarified though sometimes she was not entirely sure that the Vulcan was as ignorant of Terran expressions as he liked to put on.

"I am Vulcan, Captain," he said firmly. "I do not get depressed."

"Bull," she retorted, wagging her finger at him. "You've been all bent out of shape because you think you let me and the ship down with that mess with Angela James. And I'm here to tell you that you're being silly. The fact is, you're the best Starfleet Security Chief in the Delta Quadrant."

"I am the only Starfleet Security Chief in the Delta Quadrant," he pointed out, rather ungraciously she thought.

"Don't be so picky," she told him sharply. "You're a damned fine officer, and you know it. Not to mention the best friend I've ever had ... next to Annika, of course."

"Of course," he said, unperturbed.

"So I want you to snap out of your funk," she said and briefly hiccoughed. "That's an order."

"I ... see," he said slowly. He eyed her carefully. "Are you aware that you appear unsteady, Captain? Perhaps you have imbibed more than you should have?"

"Nonsense," she said, brushing off such an idea with an elegant wave that barely missed the tip of his nose. "I've only had the one glass." She patted Tuvok on his chest, not noticing that she was also using it to maintain her balance as she swayed precariously. "Tuvok, I adore you. It's just killing me that you're so unhappy. I want you to cheer up. That's another order."

Tuvok's lips twitched, very slightly. Only someone very observant would have seen or noted the brief gleam of ... something in his eyes. Not amusement, because after all, Vulcans did not experience amusement, but definitely something that made his eyes glow a little darker.

"Very well, Captain," he agreed. "I shall do my best to obey."

She slapped him soundly on the shoulder. "Excellent," she said. "That's the Tuvok I know and love." Her attention was abruptly taken by Chakotay who was standing with another group of Voyager crew, talking and gesturing animatedly. She leaned against the Vulcan heavily, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial manner. "You know, Tuvok," she said. "I think Chakotay was ... shall we say, 'interested in me' at one point."

"Ah," Tuvok replied noncommittally.

"Oh yes," Janeway continued doggedly. "On New Earth, he built me a bathtub. Told me a whole story about this warrior who finds this female leader he feels compelled to follow. I think he was leading up to something but then Voyager returned and the whole idea was forgotten.  Well, not forgotten exactly but he never mentioned it again."

"Apparently, three months was not sufficient enough time for him to make his intentions clear," Tuvok noted dryly.

"He is a little slow," she agreed with a gusty sigh. "Of course, he didn't stand a chance once Annika came along."

"I suspect no one did, Captain," Tuvok noted.

Janeway was unaware of the large and rather becoming smile that crossed her face just then. "No, they didn't," she said wistfully. "She's so incredible, Tuvok. If you only knew." She paused, thinking about that. "Of course, no one else will either. I'm the only one who's ever gotten to the promised land with her."

"'Promised land'?" Tuvok couldn't resist.

Janeway blinked at him. "You know, Tuvok, got her out of her clothes and taught her how to..." she started to explain.

"I see, Captain," he said hastily. "So glad you made that clear."

She nudged him, hard enough to splash a little of his drink ... a non-alcoholic Vulcan juice ... and grinned winningly at him. "You know, I never imagined myself with a woman, old friend, but she really is a remarkable lover."

"Captain, I suspect this is veering into an area that I need not know about," he told her with great sincerity. Ignoring her disappointed expression ... Janeway rarely got to discuss the baser facts of life with anyone but Seven ... he took her arm and steered her over to the table loaded with snacks. "Perhaps it would be in your best interest to eat something."

"Oh, wonderful, I love these," she exclaimed happily, pouncing on the baby quiche tray.

Relieved, Tuvok made his way over to Chakotay, talking intently into the first officer's ear. Janeway was surprised when the party abruptly started to break up a few minutes later and she objected strenuously though they ignored her as they neatly and thoroughly cleaned the cabin. She refused to give up her tray of quiches and they were forced to leave it behind as they made their escape. Janeway was left standing in the middle of her living area, frowning mightily, hands perched sloppily on her hips as she swayed a little, looking about herself in confusion.

The door hissed open and she blinked as Seven came in, looking at her with an odd expression on her face. Janeway noted the expression and held up an admonishing finger.

"I only had one glass," Janeway objected.

And pitched forward into Seven's arms.

Seven was not comfortable in these situations, was not comfortable being surrounded by such a large group of people all talking and laughing at once. But she did appreciate that this party was in her honor and the many compliments about Kathryn as well as the congratulations that flowed her way were something she knew she should accept with gratitude. So many people were happy for her and Janeway, even people she rarely interacted with and she was pleasantly astonished by how each one would stop by and share some anecdote about themselves and the captain. It was giving her a whole new education as to her partner's image in the eyes of her crew and allowed her to get a sense of history that had been denied her before.

Though she had been a member of Voyager for quite some time, there was no question that many people had been intimidated and frightened by her link to the Borg. Eventually, she had made a few friends but while she had not been avoided exactly, she had been left alone for the most part by the larger percentage of the crew. Once she began her relationship with Janeway, however, her circle of acquaintances had increased dramatically but only now did she finally feel part of the whole, truly part of the collective that made up Voyager. It was as if, by getting married, she was being brought into the family in a way she had not experienced before, and she was profoundly moved by it.

She took a breath as she watched the Doctor thread his way through the crowd toward her. Though the Chief Medical Officer had acted as her mentor and guide to humanity when she first arrived on the ship, a recent incident where he had been forced to give her some bad news had caused an estrangement between them. She knew that Kathryn wanted her to make peace with the Emergency Medical Hologram but it was difficult for her to forget that he was the one who had killed her dreams of bearing children. Of course, it had been the Borg who had actually removed her reproductive organs, but since he had been the one to explain it to her, irrationally she blamed him for her loss.

"Seven, are you all set for your big day?" he asked cheerfully.

"Yes," she responded shortly. She was aware of the shadow which passed over his dark eyes at her abruptness. Even though he was supposedly just a hologram, being forced to remain constantly active for five years had granted him definite kind of sentience. He felt just as much as the human which he resembled and she discovered she was sorry her manner had hurt him.

"Doctor, we must talk," she added. "Privately."

He hesitated, then nodded. "That's probably a good idea," he agreed. "But this is hardly the time or place."

"It is not the place," Seven said. She took his arm and nudged him toward B'Elanna's bedroom. "But it is the time. You shall perform our marriage ceremony tomorrow and it will not do for us to be at odds with each other."

She urged him into the bathroom, the closing of the door shutting out the better part of noise and crush of the people, almost deafening then with the sudden silence. He looked around and smiled wryly.

"Somehow, I don't think anyone's going to appreciate the fact that the only two beings on the ship without the need for certain biological functions have just taken over the facilities," he noted dryly.

"I do not believe this shall take long," Seven said

He nodded, appearing quite serious suddenly.

"I know you and I have ... a problem, Seven," he said slowly.

"I have been very uncomfortable around you recently," she admitted honestly. "I have been avoiding you."

"Because I was the one who told you that you couldn't have children," he allowed.

"Yes," she agreed. She looked at him, linking her hands behind her back. "I know that the situation was not of your doing, but I still blame you for it. It is not rational or logical, but it is how I feel."

He bent his head, the bald pate catching the light. "Seven, I realize that there were times that you and I had our disagreements, but I've developed a rather large soft spot for you. I'd hate to think that this would damage that," he said softly. "I never wanted to cause you any harm whatsoever."

She firmed her jaw. "I do not understand why you did not tell me earlier," she said. "Why did you allow me to believe for so long that I would have children?"

"Seven, I honestly thought you understood all the Borg had done to you," he said with great sincerity. "Including the ... removal of those organs when they installed your abdominal implant. Until the captain mentioned it, I had no idea you didn't realize you couldn't bear offspring. And, I suppose, I've always looked at you as somewhat of a technical being, like me. It never occurred to me that you would want children in the first place."

"I was always more concerned with the Borg systems I had remaining," Seven admitted thoughtfully. "Rather than any human systems that might have been damaged or destroyed by them. I had also assumed that you could reconstruct anything that had been removed by the Borg. As you did with my ... 'belly button'."

"Seven," he said seriously. "I wish with everything I am that I could somehow regenerate the areas of your reproductive system which have been destroyed."

She considered that. "I believe you, Doctor," she said finally. She granted him a brief smile. "I am pleased you are performing our wedding ceremony."

"I am honored to do it," he said with what seemed great relief.

A pounding on the door indicated that their stay had reached its limit and without further words, not that any were necessary between them, the pair hastily vacated the premises under the annoyed and confused eyes of those waiting to use the facility. Seven drifted over to where B'Elanna and Ensign Samantha Wildman were discussing the ceremony along with Wildman's young daughter, Naomi.

As the only child on Voyager, born in their first year of being stranded, Naomi had been forced to grow up in the adult world of the starship yet while she customarily displayed a manner far more mature than her years, she somehow never lost touch with her youth and innocence. It was that quality which had first drawn the Borg to her, Seven having been denied the larger portion of her childhood and the two improbably became the best of friends. Now, Naomi was absolutely bubbling with excitement, not only because she had been invited by Seven to participate in the ceremony but also because she was getting to stay up late to be at this grown up party.

Her eyes lit up as she saw Seven's approach and she rushed over to take her hand.

"Seven, are you excited about tomorrow?" she asked, her bright blue eyes sparkling.

"I am very excited," she told the child gravely, but with a hint of humor dancing across her eyes. "Are you prepared to stand with me?"

"I am," Naomi said, obviously very pleased at having been granted such a responsibility.

Seven had few close friends on the ship, with Kathryn being her closest so when it was explained that she required others to stand with her, she had a fairly limited amount of choices. With the Doctor performing the ceremony and Tuvok standing with Janeway, B'Elanna, Sek and Naomi were the only ones Seven could think of. Any objections to the child's age or the fact that Sek was a hologram had been quickly and thoroughly squashed by her. After all, this was her and the captain's ceremony and she would hold it her way. Kathryn certainly had no objection to either Sek or the child's inclusion in the proceedings.

Holding the little girl's hand, Seven joined B'Elanna and Samantha, noting that she no longer found it so difficult to 'mingle'. After so long, perhaps she was closer to being Human than she thought.

The rest of the evening went by quickly and Seven thought she saw Tom Paris and Harry Kim drop by on a few occasions. Indeed, there seemed to be a steady stream back and forth between the parties and she was pleased to overhear that apparently Kathryn was also having what seemed to be a good time. However, when she caught the words 'captain's party' and 'all over', she realized the lateness of the hour, knowing that it was time to get back to her partner. Tomorrow would be a full day and despite the fact she did not think she would sleep at all this night, she felt she should at least make the attempt. She took her leave, suspecting that the party would continue on long after she had made her way back to her quarters.

Kathryn was standing in the middle of the living area, a decided sway to her usually neat and compact posture. Seven met the muddled blue gray eyes quizzically and the captain lifted a long index finger in an approximation of what would be her normal gesture of disagreement.

"I only had one glass," she declared firmly.

Then toppled forward.

Only Seven's Borg enhanced reflexes allowed her to leap across the distance between them and catch her partner before she hit the floor. Janeway looked up at her, slumped bonelessly in her arms, a somewhat crooked smile on her face.

"Hello darlin'," she slurred. "Did you have a good time?"

"I did," Seven said as she hefted the captain awkwardly upright as she tried to get a more secure hold on her. "Did you?"

"Oh yes, it was a wunner ... a wonderful time," Janeway replied, enunciating carefully. Then she burped rather loudly and chuckled throatily. Seven raised a shocked eyebrow. She had never heard her partner burp before.

"You are intoxicated," she accused.

"Nonsense," Janeway said dismissively. "How would I get drunk?"

"Possibly by drinking?" Seven suggested, nudging her toward the bedroom.

Janeway staggered through the door, showing a distinct tendency to lurch to her left and Seven had a hard time keeping her on course.

"I never drink that much," the captain stated positively.

"Apparently you have this evening," Seven said evenly, turning her around and trying to lower her to the bed.

Janeway slipped out of her grasp and collapsed onto the mattress, arms flung out, looking at the Borg with a most peculiar expression, midway between affection and confusion, as if she didn't quite know who Seven was.

"You're some god awful sexy woman, Annika," Janeway informed her seriously as if it were a sudden discovery on her part and made an abrupt swipe at her with her arm.

Seven dodged the clumsy grab easily and began to peel off the captain's boots and uniform trousers. Janeway obligingly sat up and began to help, taking off her tunic. She tossed aside the red and black top but quickly ran into problems as she was pulling the sweater off over her head.

"Help me," she demanded crankily in a muffled tone and Seven looked up to discover that Janeway had her arms tangled up in the neck of her sweater, the whole thing wrapped around her head, obscuring her vision. She was struggling weakly, the sleeves completely immobilizing her.

Seven felt a wave of amusement flood through her and she tried not to smile as she stood up, requiring a few moments and some inventive curses on Janeway's part before she was finally able to free her partner.

Naked, Janeway immediately threw herself back onto the bed and looked up at Seven, a leer etching itself onto her features. Seven had discovered that while no one leered quite so elegantly as her partner, it was without question, a trifle sloppy this night.

"Sit on my face," Janeway requested huskily.

Seven raised an eyebrow. Usually the captain was so much more ... delicate when making remarks of that sort. The Borg wondered why it mattered how such a thing was said if the intention was the same but she decided that it did. And she wasn't entirely sure she liked the manner of this phrasing at all regardless that it was her beloved Kathryn who was saying it.

"I think you should go to sleep," Seven countered reprovingly as she began to remove her own outfit.

"Afterward," Janeway told her sternly. She looked down at her chest peevishly. "Do you think I'm too small?"

Confused by the shift in topic, Seven looked at her, clarification dawning as the captain abruptly cupped her breasts as if offering them to the Borg.

"No," Seven responded, quite honestly. "They are perfect."

Janeway eyed her narrowly as if suspecting Seven was being less than sincere, then smiled blissfully. "They would like it very much if you were to kiss them," she said coyly, apparently realizing she had been a bit too forward in her previous request.

Seven suspected that the mammary glands, as attractive as they were, were hardly as sentient as the captain was implying.

"Perhaps later," Seven offered.

"No," Janeway demanded imperiously. "Kiss them now."

Seven regarded her impassively for a moment, then slowly smiled.

"Very well," she said in apparent agreement and got into the bed next to her partner who happily settled back onto the pillows.

The Borg leaned over the reclining captain and began to kiss the small breasts lovingly, gently, using her mouth in such a way as to soothe rather than arouse the other woman. Sure enough, within a few minutes, Janeway's breathing had deepened and a rather reverberating snore erupted from her mouth which had dropped open as her head fell back.

Seven winced at the sound as she drew the blankets up around her partner and with a sigh of relief, curled up around her and attempted to go to sleep.

Trying not to think about the next day and all that would happen.

"Oh my god," Janeway moaned, holding onto her head, afraid it would fly off her shoulders at any moment. Her mouth tasted like the Vulcan desert at high noon in the dead of summer and the clanging in her skull threatened to deafen her permanently.

"Oh my god," she whimpered again, just in case no one had heard her.

She was vaguely aware of Seven coming into the bedroom from the ensuite, carrying the wedding dress over her shoulder. The tall Borg stopped by the bed, looking down at the prostrate captain with cool impartiality.

"I'm dying," the captain muttered plaintively, hoping she looked as miserable as she felt.

"You will survive," Seven said, apparently unmoved by her lover's suffering. "It is a 'hangover' and something you are required to experience when you have overindulged with alcohol."

"Who told you that?" Janeway whispered with dismay.

"You did," Seven replied promptly. She regarded the captain measuringly. "It is now 1300 hours. I must prepare for the ceremony. I shall be at B'Elanna's if you require anything further."

Janeway was aghast when Seven simply left without any further attempt at conversation or comfort. The captain wondered where her partner had developed such a callous streak and why the hell she was marrying her if that was the sort of wife she was going to be. Groaning softly, the captain cautiously rolled over and dropped onto the floor, crawling on her hands and knees to the bathroom where she vigorously threw up whatever had been taken into her stomach the night before. So much of her memory was foggy and all she could really remember was talking to Tuvok briefly about ... something.

Can't blame sabotage on that bit of amnesia, she thought gloomily, regarding the unidentified remains swirling around in the waste disposal unit.

Somehow, she managed to get to her feet and turn on the shower, stepping tentatively under the chill spray with the sort of determination that she hadn't required since her late high school days. Honestly, what had happened the night before and what had she been thinking? She was sure that she had placed a limit on herself and she couldn't imagine what would make her ignore it. Perhaps the liquor she imbibed was much stronger than what she normally drank.

She closed her eyes, leaning heavily against the shower wall, the rush of water peppering her with needle fineness. She kept filling her mouth with the cool liquid and spitting, trying to get rid of both the taste and the dryness she was experiencing. She started abruptly when she sensed a presence in the room with her and she recoiled against the wall as she looked over to see the Doctor standing there with a hypospray, regarding her patiently.

"Goddamn it, what the hell are you doing?" she yelled and wished she hadn't when her own voice rattled through her head like a Betazed gong. She pressed her palms to her eyes painfully, waiting for the echoes to stop.

He raised an eyebrow. "I was informed that you would be in need of certain treatment," he said, waving the hypospray for emphasis. He eyed her sardonically as she stumbled out of the shower and grabbed for the towel hanging on the wall, wrapping it around her with wounded dignity. "Unless you'd prefer to have your ... what was it again ... 'hangover' during the ceremony?"

She glared at him. Clearly he was enjoying this whole situation far too much but she did not object further and with a narrow smile, he pressed the tip of the device to her neck, the soft hiss immediately accompanied by the sweet relief of her headache and nausea disappearing.

"Doctor, I really don't like it when you suddenly appear in my bathroom," she said tightly.

"I'm sure you don't," he said agreeably. "But a 'house call' is a little better than treating this sort of thing in sickbay, don't you think? Besides, Seven seemed to think it was something of an emergency."

Janeway's lips thinned as she considered that. She supposed she should be grateful that her partner had been so thoughtful as to provide for her care, especially since she had gotten the impression that Seven was completely unsympathetic to her pain.

As well she should be, Janeway was forced to admit to herself. She still couldn't believe she would be so careless as to become intoxicated the night before her wedding. She wondered if there hadn't been some nerves involved there after all and if Seven would forgive such inappropriate behavior.

"Very well, Doctor," she said, trying for a more gracious tone. "Thank you."

"Glad to be of service," he said cheerfully. He smiled at her. "See you at the altar."

He dematerialized, transporting his matrix back to sickbay and she let out a mingled sigh of exasperation and relief. She tossed her towel over the rack and programmed the tub for a bath, adding certain oils and salts. While it was filling, she padded naked out to the living area and replicated some fruit, knowing she needed to replenish her body's fluids. Feeling extremely fragile, she carried the plate back into the bathroom and ate her meal while soaking in the tub. The combination of food and hot water on top of the Doctor's magic hypospray served to make her feel a lot more Human and by the time she had risen from the bath and dried herself off, she was actually starting to anticipate what the afternoon would bring.

She took a lot of time to prepare, dabbing perfume in certain areas and making sure she felt as gorgeous as possible before turning to the dress uniform hanging in the closet. Several months earlier, an artifact had sent Chakotay, B'Elanna and Seven to Deep Space Nine where they gathered a host of supplies and data before choosing to return to share in Voyager's exile. Included were the replicator patterns for the new issue of Starfleet uniforms, much different than the older versions the crew had been wearing when first lost in the Delta Quadrant. The senior staff had discussed changing over to the new versions but the fact that every replicator would require reprogramming in the pattern buffer, a task that was not only tedious but expended a significant amount of the ship's store of energy, made them decide to stay with what they already had.

The dress uniforms were a different matter. When Janeway had been presented with an image of the new pattern, she thought that finally, someone in Starfleet Command had developed some taste. She had always loathed the old version, heavy black and red tunics which hung to her knees and with her coloring, made her look as dumpy and unattractive as possible. She believed the new version could make any Starfleet officer look presentable and immediately had one made up. When this ceremony had been planned, she demanded that the rest in the  wedding party be fitted for the new dress whites as well.  It had been her only stipulation and Seven was apparently happy to comply to the request.

The captain regarded herself in the mirror with satisfaction, appreciating how the uniform set off the rich auburn in her hair and lent dignity to her stature. The jacket's lines were crisp and refined while the gold braid gave a militaristic touch she felt was appropriate for her in a way it might not be for other line officers. The ebony pants were elegantly cut and the high waist gave her the illusion of height. She raised her jaw proudly, a sudden image streaking across her mind ... a similar sort of white jacket, a bistro in France, aliens dressed in the uniforms of the Nazi regime. She shook it off, wondering where that memory had came from and left the ensuite just as the door chime sounded.

Chakotay and Tuvok stood resplendent in their new dress uniforms, wearing slate-blue blouses beneath the short jackets as opposed to the white she had on. They entered her quarters and spent a few seconds regarding her with open admiration.

"Maybe we should change over to the new uniforms after all," Chakotay suggested a little wistfully.

Janeway smiled. "I don't know," she said, settling her shoulders beneath the unfamiliar fabric. "If we return only to find Starfleet has changed the design yet again, we would have to consider it a complete waste of energy."

"You have a point," her first officer allowed. He put his hands on his hips. "You ready?"

All of a sudden, the reality of what was about to happen slammed down on her like a phaser blast. Her face grew pale and she stared at him.

"Captain, are you all right?" Tuvok asked with sudden concern. "Your face has just assumed a rather odd shade."

She swallowed hard. "Excuse me," she mumbled and made a beeline for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, after having lost most of her meal and utilizing all her mouth freshening applications in the medicine cabinet, she tottered unsteadily back out to where her officers were waiting. Both Chakotay and Tuvok seemed eager to concentrate on anything but her and Janeway could swear there was a smile playing about her first officer's mouth.

"If you laugh," she hissed at him. "I swear, I'll kill you where you stand."

A movement appeared on his cheek where he was clearly biting the inside of it.

"Understood, Captain," he managed. "Shall we go?" He offered his arm, making a gesture to the door with the other.

Taking a deep breath, she linked her elbows with them and flanked by her friends, she sailed out into the corridor toward Holodeck One where the ceremony would take place.

To where the future waited.

Seven thought that her friends were far more agitated than they needed to be and she observed their actions with a combination of confusion and surprise. After all, she was the one getting married and if she was no longer nervous about it, it did not make sense that they were. Now that the ceremony was only a few hours away, Seven had felt a sudden peace settle over her, the sense that everything was perfect and that there was no where else in the universe that she needed or wanted to be.

Even when she was dispatched to B'Elanna's bathroom where she was instructed to scrub to within an inch of her life. She did not understand why a wedding required the same preparation that major surgery did but she obeyed, utilizing both the sonic setting at its highest level and that of a hydro burst.

Clean, skin flushed a delicate pink from the heat of the water, her fine blonde hair limp and dripping, she exited the ensuite where B'Elanna and Sek pounced on her with all the delicacy of a pack of hyena attacking a water buffalo. Seven was thrust into the center of the room and made to stand on a small platform as she was dressed by her friends who ran about with much enthusiasm and little organization.

Seven discovered that each item she donned was supposed to have great significance. The lace underwear with the silver threads were a symbol of chastity and virginal purity; concepts which could be considered irrelevant in her case but since she was not asked her opinion about that, she supposed it didn't matter. The long, sheer stockings were held up by garters decorated with the tiniest of blue flowers. When Seven was informed that they were supposed to be removed by the captain at the reception and flung into the crowd, she did not try to argue with B'Elanna about how highly unlikely that event was sure to be. She simply remained silent and put them on, fully confident that the captain would no more try to undress her in front of the crew that she would abruptly sprout wings and fly.

Finally, the dress was lowered over her head, the length falling smoothly over her body and legs and as she saw her reflection in the mirror, Seven felt a certain satisfaction with her appearance. The dress was based on a design that she had seen in a holo-image during her time in the Alpha Quadrant. It was a recording of Gretchen and Edward Janeway's wedding and when Kathryn's mother had showed it to her, Seven's eidetic memory stored it away, allowing her to reproduce it once she knew she was about to be married. Kathryn had not been aware of the significance of the design at first but when informed of it, the captain had assumed the softest, sweetest expression on her face that Seven had ever seen. The Borg felt very comfortable in the dress and decided that as garments went, it suited her well.

Her satisfaction in her appearance changed rapidly when the Ordeal of the Hair commenced. Much discussion regarding the placement and display of what had otherwise been mere follicles spouting from her head was conducted loudly by B'Elanna, Sek and Naomi while Seven sat uncomprehendingly in a chair in front of the mirror. Sek wanted it long, falling as she put it, "gracefully down her back like a golden waterfall." Naomi agreed. For a young child, she was remarkably forthcoming with her opinion regarding her friend's appearance.

B'Elanna objected ... unsurprisingly ... and demanded that Seven's hair be pinned up, not in the customary bun she normally wore, but piled on her head as high as it could reach and secured by some sort of adhesive spray. Seven wondered if this was a Klingon custom or a Human one. With B'Elanna, it was hard to tell sometimes.

The resulting disagreement grew somewhat heated and when phrases like "looking like cheap trailer trash" started to be tossed around ... though Seven had no idea what that implied ... Seven decided that enough was enough. She allowed in her most precise voice that she would wear her hair down, but that she would also wear the silver Klingon headband to hold her bangs off her forehead and out of her eyes.

That settled, she was forced to hold still as Sek and B'Elanna created the hairstyle, then applied what they referred to as 'makeup'. Seven had never before worn any and she did not think she was pleased to have to be wearing it now. But the Borg realized that she would be attempting many new and different things this day so she remained silent as the various powders, glosses and pigments were applied.

Fortunately, B'Elanna possessed a more delicate restraint in this area and before Seven quite realized what was happening, she was staring at a most unfamiliar reflection in the mirror. She tilted her head slightly, trying to discover what had been done to alter her appearance in such a manner. It was undoubtedly her ... only more so. Where once there had been an angular sternness, now there was softness, where once there had been impassive coldness, now there was warmth and gentleness radiating from her narrow features. Even the grey metallic implants had been altered somehow to give her the appearance of fresh youthfulness, of innocence and soulful yearning.

Seven was profoundly astonished.

"Now sit there and don't move," B'Elanna ordered sternly. "Thank god you don't sweat."

Bemused by that, Seven obediently remained still in her chair as chaos ran rampart around her, the other three attempting to get ready themselves even as they helped each other. The Borg wondered idly if this was also a tradition associated with being married and found it all very inefficient and quite lacking in percision. Not to mention how everyone's nerves were apparently on edge. A misplaced hair clip set up a clamor that threatened to cause a ship wide red alert before the missing object was finally found under the Klingon's bed.

Finally, the four were ready, powdered, primped and processed ... a half hour early.

"Damn, I thought you had this timed, Sek," B'Elanna grumbled as she settled on the bed, sitting gingerly in an attempt not to wrinkle her dress uniform. She slid a finger inside her collar and tugged uncomfortably. "I'm gonna drown."

"Lower the room temperature," Sek suggested crisply.

Though her originally matrix had been based on Kes, a former crewmember of Voyager, the holographic medical assistant had altered her skin and hair tones from the Ocampa's fair coloring to a warm brown of cafe au lait skin with dark, curly hair cut close to her scalp. The bone structure and voice was still the empath's, but the personality, some of which was owed to the chief engineer's programming, was a great deal more feisty and less forgiving of humanoid weaknesses than Kes had been. Seven had discovered that as the hologram learned and evolved, she had developed into this new entity that the Borg honestly liked as a person rather than simply viewing the hologram as a mere technical being.

Naomi was not in a uniform. She was wearing a pretty white dress which brought out the tints in her strawberry blond hair. A row of Katarian bone flares bisected her forehead but otherwise, she looked like a very Human young girl dressed in her Sunday best. She also seemed to be sharing in the Klingon's discomfort at having prepared so early and Seven took pity on her.

"Come with me, Naomi," Seven instructed. "We should check on Kathryn to see if she is prepared."

The objections were immediate and loud.

"You can't do that," B'Elanna yelled. "It's bad luck."

"Seven, you shouldn't be seen by the Captain before the ceremony," Sek agreed seriously. "It will ruin the effect."

"They're right, Seven," Naomi said with remarkable maturity. "You don't want to keep the captain from seeing you walk down the aisle for the first time."

Seven blinked. "But you are uncomfortable waiting," she said with confusion. "Performing a task will make the time pass quicker."

"We'll lower the temperature," B'Elanna stated firmly. "And play charades if we have to."

"'Charades'?"

"Never mind," the Klingon said. "Computer, lower the temperature in my quarters fifteen degrees." She looked at Seven and took a breath of what seemed relief as the air grew perceptively cooler. "Seven, why aren't you nervous?"

"I do not know," Seven replied, somewhat defensively at the accusing tone. "I was last night, but since then, I have not been disturbed by the idea. After all, I do love Kathryn and being married to her is the next logical progression of our relationship."

"Still, you'd think you'd be a wreck by now," B'Elanna said, sounding somewhat disgruntled.

"Don't give her ideas," Sek noted briefly as she picked a piece of lint off her arm. "I would hate to have to deal with a nervous Borg."

Seven eyed her. Since Sek was a hologram, so was her uniform, and therefore so was any lint. She wondered if this was a display of nervousness on the medical assistant's part.

"Are you ready for the honeymoon, Seven?" Naomi piped up then.

B'Elanna nudged her. "What do you know about honeymoons, Sprout?" she asked condescendingly.

"I know that it's considered a vacation for the couple who have just been married," Naomi answered innocently. "And that much sexual interaction takes place. I was conceived on my parents' honeymoon," she added brightly.

Seven was intrigued. She had never seen B'Elanna turn that particular shade of crimson before.

"Does your mother know you talk like that?" B'Elanna sputtered finally.

Naomi stared at her oddly. "Of course," she replied. "She is a biometrics officer."

"I think we should go to the holodeck," Sek suggested then.

Something B'Elanna was only too quick to agree with.

Janeway stood with Tuvok and Chakotay in the vestibule of the tiny church, looking through the window to the rose garden where all the non-denominational ceremonies took place. This tiny building had been a center of community in the Indiana agricultural park where she had grown up. Her parents themselves had been married here and she remembered other weddings she had attended  in the years prior to being lost in the Delta Quadrant. In fact, the last time she had stood in this vestibule, it had been for the wedding of her childhood friend to a young Starfleet medical officer. Janeway had attended Mary's ceremony with Justin Tighe, believing that one day they would be married here as well; something that would certainly have occurred soon afterward had not a tragic accident killed both he and her father on the ice sheet of Tau Ceti Prime.

Through the stained glass, she could see the sun shining brightly down on the chairs set up on the emerald green lawn, the clear blue of an Indiana sky dotted with a few clouds which drifted big and puffy, mounds of soft white in the distance which would not threaten rain or for that matter, even pass overhead to obscure the sun. That was the advantage of being married in the holodeck. Weather was simply not a factor.

Of course, the captain allowed to herself silently, the disadvantage is that it isn't real either.

On some basic level, she would have sensed that even if she hadn't already known it was a complete and utter illusion. For a moment her heart ached in her, feeling so far away from home, wishing that she could be in that rural community on Earth rather than in this facsimile. That out there in the garden behind the church where the trellis festooned with roses arched over the stone paved dais, her mother and sister would be waiting patiently in the audience to see her be married.

Janeway did not regret choosing to be married now, knowing that both she and Annika needed this commitment as did the ship in some strange way, but there was still a part of her that very much mourned the absence of her family. She sent a stray bequest out to the universe, a rush of love and the wistful hope that in some way, Gretchen and Phoebe knew what was happening at this moment. That somehow they would feel some sort of connection, would perhaps look up from whatever they were doing as the echo of her joy touched them briefly.

Tuvok cleared his throat softly. "I believe it is time," he said.

She nodded briefly. "Let's do it," she replied curtly.

Chakotay laughed. "It's a wedding, Kathryn," he told her. "Not a commando raid."

"Just remember that when it's your turn," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I'm never going to do this," he told her placidly, taking her arm as they left the hall and walked out into the sunshine. "So you don't have to concern yourself with that."

The three strode in tandem down the pebbled walk leading to the dais and took their position on the paving stones. In neat rows of chairs lining the path, all the members of the crew who were either off duty or had swapped with others, were personally in attendance while over a variety of monitors throughout the ship, those who remained at their posts also kept an eye on the proceedings even as they maintained their watch on their stations. After all, it wasn't every day the ship's captain was married.

The Doctor, who looked extremely dignified in his snow white uniform, smiled briefly at her as they took up their position beneath the trellis, the pavement beneath their feet worn by all the betrothed which had stood there before her. Janeway could smell the fragrance from the roses winding through the wooden frame arching above her and for now, allowed herself to accept the illusion for what it was intended to be. At the very least, Annika deserved that much and Janeway supposed, she did as well. She intended to be married only once and if there had been other relationships before this one, relationships that she thought would last forever, she was still determined that the person she would spend the rest of her life with would be Seven of Nine. And that this ceremony would be all she ever needed to establish that in the eyes of Federation law.

She caught her breath as the music from the string quartet began, her heart thumping in her chest as she looked back to the door of the church, a different one from where she and her escorts had exited. Seven stood strong and tall, a vision of exquisite loveliness and everyone stood as the soloist from biometrics started to sing in a clear, melodic voice, the song which had been chosen to accompany Seven on her walk down the aisle. The Borg moved with measured precision toward the dais, holding a bouquet of baby's breath and white roses before her. In her wake, Naomi carried a silver box, preceding B'Elanna and Sek who were amazingly feminine and lovely in their dress uniforms; all of whom were approaching the altar with fixed smiles and glazed expressions in their faces. Only Seven seemed alert and ready for what was about to happen.

Janeway swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes as she watched Seven, looking like a fantasy in silver and white, so incredibly beautiful that the captain wondered how she could ever survive the sheer wonder of this moment. She dimly felt Chakotay or Tuvok ... she was never sure who and she never asked afterward ... nudge her forward and she took a step, accepting the hand that Seven reached out, tucking it neatly under her arm as she helped the young woman step up onto the platform though surely the Borg needed no assistance.

Indeed, the captain was convinced that were it not for the firm grip Seven had on her that Janeway herself would promptly collapse in a heap on the ground. Her head felt oddly detached from her body and as they stood in front of the Doctor, the captain's knees seemed made of jelly, completely unsuitable for holding her upright. Her mind went blank and for a brief eternity of total panic, Janeway had no idea what the hell she was doing here or what she was supposed to do next.

Seven squeezed her hand comfortingly as if sensing the captain's anxiety and the suffocating terror receded slightly, allowing Janeway to take a breath, the lightheadedness indicating that it had been some time since she had taken her last one.

"Friends, family, honored crew of Voyager," the Doctor began once the music had stopped and the crowd had once more settled back into their seats. His voice had taken on a rich timbre that Janeway had never heard from him before; deep, dignified, and refined. "We are gathered here today to share in the joining of Kathryn Janeway, and Annika Hansen, women who's lives have touched ours in so many ways. We bore witness to their initial meeting, watched their relationship grow, developing first into friendship, then into so much more until finally, on this, the first eve of Prixin, we are called upon to witness the formal and binding declaration of their love and commitment to each other."

He smiled warmly at both of them and Janeway felt a little more of her panic subside. She could actually feel Seven's fingers entwined with her own now.

"Annika, I believe you have certain words to say to Kathryn before your shipmates and whatever deities they choose to believe in," he added gently.

Seven carefully handed her bouquet to B'Elanna and turned to Janeway, gripping her hands tightly.

"Kathryn," she said in a clear, distinct voice that rang out over the crowd. "I was once part of a vast consciousness; billions of minds working together. A harmony of purpose and thought; no indecisions, no doubts; the security and strength of a unified will. Then you came and took me from that purpose. I felt small, alone, one voice, one mind. You told me that I was not alone; that I was part of a human community now; a Human Collective. That we may all be individuals but that we can live and work together. You promised that I could find some of the unity I required right here on Voyager. I did not understand then, what you meant. I do now. With you I have found harmony and purpose, with you I have found love and belonging. With you, I have found a greater unification than the Collective could ever offer."

She took a breath. "Before all of our friends, before all of our family, I swear by whatever any individual holds supreme, I shall always love you. I promise to walk at your side wherever our path may lead, to support you if that road grows difficult, and to allow you to support me in return. Kathryn Janeway, I pledge my life to be with you always; for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for good times and in bad, until death and beyond."

Janeway hoped she would be able to remember those words so intently and sincerely spoken, that she would be able to call them up later and truly appreciate their meaning and the love which had inspired them. But right now it felt like her brain was leaking out her ears and she was very much afraid she was going to faint. She knew she was supposed to say something in return but her voice box had just taken a sudden leave of absence and the only sound she could make was a tiny whimper when she parted her lips.

Seven regarded her with warm blue eyes and seemed to smile. "I believe in you, Kathryn," she whispered, so soft that not even the Doctor heard.

But Janeway did.

Drawing on every reserve that had stood her in such good stead through the years of rising through the ranks of Starfleet, through war and peace, through tragedy and triumph, of her father's death and of being lost here in the Delta Quadrant when she had let her crew down so badly, Kathryn somehow found her voice and the words that she had prepared for this moment, praying that they conveyed everything that she needed them to.

"When I first met you, I believed that I could return your humanity to you, that I could somehow give you back all that you were missing in your existence. It was only later that I discovered it was you who returned my humanity to me, that it was you who taught me how to live again and how to love. You taught me what was missing in my life and offered it back to me without hesitation or reserve. You are my heart, Annika Hansen, my Seven of Nine, and I swear before God and all others that I shall always love you. I promise to give to you every part of me, holding nothing back, to be at your side now and forever. All I am, I pledge to you; for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, until death and beyond."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Even the holograms blinked rapidly at suspicious moisture and the Doctor actually had to clear his throat before he could go on.

"Annika and Kathryn have chosen as a symbol of their love and devotion, matching pendants which will be worn next to their hearts from this day forward," he proclaimed, turning to Naomi who obligingly stepped forward, opening the box.

Inside, cradled on a bed of silver velvet, suspended by whisper thin silver chains were two perfectly formed crystals, deep green in color. The Doctor removed them carefully from the box, holding them up to catch the light from the sun. They sparkled with an emerald fire though no one knew what sort of stones they were or even what they represented. Janeway and Seven, however, were very aware of where they had originated.

One day, not so long ago, amidst turmoil and destruction, a Starfleet Captain trying to get her ship and crew home braved a Borg Cube, demanding and receiving a liaison to allow her and the Collective to work together. From a cubicle, a drone stepped forward, designated the Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01 and neither of their lives, Human nor Borg, would ever be the same again.

From that same cubicle, which along with three other alcoves had survived the cube's destruction by Species 8472, Seven had removed the power flow nodules, transmitter stones which could only be found on the Borg homeworld itself. With careful precision, Seven had shaped them into faceted crystals before attaching them to the chains made from the silver refined from Janeway's first Starfleet Medal of Honor. Janeway had thought they were a most appropriate symbol of their relationship.

Weird. But appropriate.

Seven accepted one of the necklaces from the Doctor and turned to Janeway. She carefully placed the chain about the captain's neck as the Doctor recited formally, "Annika Hansen, do you take this woman to be your spouse from this day forward?"

"I do," she said firmly and clearly, securing the clasp.

Janeway shakily took the other necklace from him and put it on Seven.

"Kathryn Janeway, do you take this woman to be your spouse from this day forward?" he repeated, a hint of humor in his tone.

"I do," Janeway husked, her fingers trembling so much that she was scared she couldn't work the fastening, gratified when somehow, she managed to close it.

The Doctor took a breath and straightened, looking out over the crowd.

"By the authority vested in me by Starfleet regulations and Federation law, I now pronounce you legally and officially married." He smiled. "You may both kiss the bride."

And Voyager reverberated with cheers as Janeway felt Seven's mouth cover hers, kissing her softly, gently, with complete and utter love. Their first kiss as a married couple.

Seven regarded Janeway out of the corner of her eye, reassuring herself that her partner ... her wife, she corrected instantly, the thought jolting along her brain paths with a golden fire ... was fully recovered from her bout of nerves. Indeed, at one point the Borg had been afraid the captain was actually going to pass out, Janeway's porcelain skin had been such a pale grey. And the way Kathryn's fingers had held onto hers with a death grip had made Seven realize that the formidable captain of Voyager did indeed have certain irrational fears. But since it was highly unlikely Janeway would ever have to repeat the experience, Seven supposed it was not anything to worry about.

She smiled faintly as she saw Naomi at the table on the main floor with Neelix and Samantha Wildman, explaining excitedly to her mother all that she had been doing during the ceremony. The child had conducted herself well and Seven thought that she would have to come up with a special way to thank her for it.

"So, now the real fun begins," a voice beside her said idly.

Seven glanced over, regarding B'Elanna who had loosened her collar and was leaning back in her chair, lips pursed as she regarded the crowd. The holodeck had been reprogrammed into a simulation of a huge hall, filled with tables and chairs bordering a respectably sized dance floor. Seven and B'Elanna, along with the rest of the wedding party, were sitting at the head table while holographic waiters circulated through the crowd, dropping off very real meals to the hungry crew as the event was now well into the early evening. The Doctor was busy snapping images of everyone and everything he saw, trotting here and there and obviously having the time of his programmed existence.

This was what was known as the 'reception', Seven knew. Another form of celebration. The Borg thought that the wedding itself, which had basically taken only twenty minutes in the afternoon, was not something that necessarily required all this extraneous pageantry but she had promised to go along with it. She was aware there were still certain rituals expected of her and Kathryn though she did not quite understand most of them. In fact, some of them seemed so ludicrous that Seven was convinced that B'Elanna had just been making them up as she went along. However, she was also determined that she and Kathryn should experience all a wedding entailed so she had agreed to everything. Now she was a little sorry about having been so accommodating and she hoped she had remembered to mention all the little requirements to Kathryn.

Chakotay, on Janeway's other side, stood up, tapping on the side of his glass with his knife. The buzz of the crowd lessened and died and he smiled.

"I'm going to make this brief," he said, raising his champagne. "To Kathryn and Annika. May their happiness grow exponentially from this moment forward."

Seven was impressed by the mathematical projection of the sentiment and obligingly drank from her glass. She rather liked champagne, enjoying how the bubbles rose to tickle her nose but she was careful only to sip it. She knew that its flavor masked its intoxicating effect. She was disconcerted when everyone continued to tap their utensils after the toast and startled when she felt Janeway's hand on her arm, urging her around. Confused, she turned and was profoundly shocked when the captain kissed her, right there in front of what was essentially, the entire crew. She had known they were expected to kiss once at the ceremony, to signify the sealing of the covenant as it were, but she had no idea they were allowed to continue to do so at random intervals afterward.

She decided she rather liked this tradition and promptly kissed Kathryn back resoundingly.

"Only one per toast," the captain murmured affectionately against her lips, smiling. "Otherwise, we'll be here all night."

"Ah," Seven said, filing that one away.

She was gratified when, one by one, the rest of the wedding party stood up and formally toasted them. These were different from the salutes at the parties the night before. They seemed much more restrained and people only sipped at their drinks rather than gulped them down as so many had at those other celebrations. After every toast, she and Janeway kissed to the great applause and cheers of the crowd.

Seven had not known kissing was such a spectator sport.

After dinner, there was a gigantic, multi-layered cake adorned with two tiny female figures, a redhead and a blond, garbed respectively in what approximated a red and black Starfleet uniform and a silver body suit. It was wheeled out by Neelix and Samantha Wildman and together, Seven and Kathryn wielded the knife which made the first cut into the pastry, slicing off small pieces which they then fed to each other. Seven found the confection far too sweet for her liking and was glad that Janeway had only made her eat a tiny portion. Some people looked disappointed as if they expected the captain to have offered her a much larger piece, but Seven could not determine why.

Then there was the matter of the bouquet.

"Now Seven, I want you to turn around and throw the flowers over your shoulder," B'Elanna instructed.

"Uh, lieutenant," Janeway began.

"It's all right, Captain," B'Elanna interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall the captain. "I know it's sort of archaic and a trifle gender based, but Seven agreed to do it."

"But B'Elanna ..." Janeway tried again.

"Throw it, Seven," the engineer said and glanced at the captain with what would have been annoyance toward anyone else. "Please, Captain, it'll be fine."

"But you didn't ... " Janeway started, trailed off as Seven flung the bouquet over her shoulder, the flowers sailing some two meters over the heads of the waiting crewmembers before slamming into the wall at the far end of the holodeck with such force, the blossoms exploded into tiny bits of white and green. "Explain how hard to throw it," the captain completed dryly.

"Seven," B'Elanna protested, appalled.

A few feet away, Chakotay and Tom were bent over, laughing so hard they could barely remain on their feet. They didn't seem to notice they were leaning on each other, a definite aberration for the two men who had always maintained an antagonistic relationship.

"I did not do it correctly," Seven said shamefully.

"Don't worry, Annika," Janeway assured the Borg. "They'll get over it." She put her arm around Seven's waist and squeezed as she grinned at B'Elanna who was regarding them both with exasperation, hands on her hips.

"Well then, you have to do the garters, at least," B'Elanna protested.

"All right," Janeway remarked calmly, shocking both the engineer and the Borg. "Have a seat, Seven."

This pronouncement was met with great glee by all concerned and hesitantly, Seven sat on the chair hastily provided by Harry Kim who, along with Chakotay and Tom, scurried to join the much larger crowd forming on the dance floor.

Seven leaned forward, putting her head next to the captain's. "Are you sure, Kathryn?" Seven whispered. "You have to reach under my dress to retrieve the garters. It seems somewhat ... intimate."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "I promise not to touch anything I shouldn't," she said rakishly, which did not reassure the young woman at all.

Bemused, Seven removed her shoes and sat still as the captain knelt before her to the noisy approval of the crew, reaching under the long skirt. Seven bit her bottom lip as she felt the warm fingers of her partner run up the inside of her legs to the garters encircling her thighs. Her eyes met Kathryn's, recognizing the humor in the blue-grey depths and she tried not to jump as the captain carefully removed the bands along with the stockings, sliding them off.

Seven watched in astonishment as the captain drew back the elasticized straps and shot the garters into the crowd, then repeated the act with the stockings. She didn't see who ended up with what thought she thought she glimpsed Harry briefly hoist a garter triumphedly above his head in the melee that followed.

Kathryn laughed heartily and offered her hand to Seven who was replacing her shoes.

"We're up," she said.

Seven did not quite comprehend that until she heard the music start. This was the beginning of the wedding ball and she realized they were expected to dance first. She swallowed hard and took the hand, grasping it tightly as they moved out onto the floor.

Janeway caught her breath as she moved into Seven's embrace, holding onto her partner tightly as they swayed to the music generated by the holographic band at the far end of the dance floor.

"Did you choose this song?" she asked quietly.

"We chose this song," Seven corrected her. "Do you remember the night I offered you a selection of various songs and you said you preferred this one above all the rest?"

"Ah," Janeway said, the memory coming back to her now. She listened briefly to the words. "It's appropriate."

"I'm glad you think so," Seven said softly. "I like it very much as well."

Janeway wondered if she should be leading since she was wearing the uniform then decided that she was concentrating too much on the incidentals. She had been glad to go along with most of the customs demanded of them, no matter how silly or inane she thought them, knowing that this event wasn't just for her and Seven but for the entire Voyager family. At this point, however, the evening was starting to lag and she felt the beginnings of a headache touch her temples. She decided that celebrating was harder on the system than fighting off an entire Hirogen hunting pack.

"How much longer must we remain?" Seven whispered then, almost as if she had been reading the captain's mind.

Janeway smiled and brushed her lips over the bottom of Seven's chin. "Not much longer," she said softly. "There are only a few dances, then we can take our leave." She squeezed the Borg lightly. "Are you getting tired?"

"It is starting to become more a sense of obligation than celebration," Seven admitted.

"Just hang in there, love," Janeway said comfortingly. "Only a while longer."

"I will comply," Seven said in such a resigned tone that Janeway laughed and pulled her close, nuzzling her throat lovingly.

They finished out the song then, as another began, they separated to choose other partners, Seven finding the Doctor, her mentor, while Janeway drew out Chakotay. With that signal, others joined them and soon the floor was filled. Song followed song as Chakotay found B'Elanna who hesitated but stepped out onto the floor with him before Tom Paris later cut in and left Chakotay dancing with Seven. It was like a battle, Janeway thought as she was propelled around the floor by a skilled but unenthusiastic Tuvok. So many levels and so ritualistic, the different ebb and flow of the music a counterpoint to the various pairings going on.

She smiled a bit sadly as she saw Neelix and Samantha dancing cheek to cheek in the corner of the floor, aware that the couple was growing closer every single day. Not that it was necessarily her problem or business but the captain was still very aware that Ensign Wildman was married and had a husband waiting for her in the Alpha Quadrant. She noted that Harry and B'Elanna had found each other on the floor and for the first time, the engineer seemed to relax as the dark haired lieutenant danced with her. There was a little something there, Janeway thought but what exactly, she wasn't sure.

She found she was looking for her partner, eyes searching the crowd and it was with a definite sense of relief that she was able to disengage from a crewmember from astrophysics with  a charming smile.  She immediately cut in on the somewhat inebriated young man from biometrics who was showing far too much interest in Seven's cleavage.

"Ready to leave?" she asked the young woman with a gentle smile as she swept her away.

"I was prepared an hour ago," Seven told her.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. There were farewells and comments of gratitude to various people before they managed to make their way to the door. And of course, a group of high spirited partiers insisted on escorting them to their destination. Once there, they refused to leave until someone carried the other over the threshold. Technically, Janeway supposed it should have been her carrying Seven but the impossibility of that was readily apparent and no one complained when Seven obligingly swept the captain up in her arms and carried her through the holodeck doors.

But there was no question that when those doors to holodeck two finally closed behind them, the sudden privacy afforded them was like the peace after a turbulent storm. Seven carefully lowered Janeway to her feet and the pair of them took matching deep breaths, exhaling slowly as they looked around.

This was the crew's gift to the couple, the honeymoon cottage. Many had given up their holodeck privileges while still others assisted in the programming of what was hoped would be the perfect romantic location. Certain of the crew were pulling double duty to cover for the captain and the astrometrics officer for the next seven days while the holodeck itself was locked from the inside with a high security seal that only the captain or Seven could countermand.

They were standing in the woodsy decor of a log cabin, a cheerful fire crackling in a huge fieldstone hearth, casting a golden glow over a huge, four-posted bed in the corner. Through the glass doors at one end of the room, the silvery light of the moon illuminated the soothing and steady rush of an ocean and through another door, Janeway could see a huge whirlpool tub dominating the ensuite.

She took another long breath, this one of quiet pleasure and glanced at her partner who was still looking a bit flustered.

"Should I change first?" Seven asked uncertainly.

Janeway nodded but before Seven could go, the captain reached out and snagged her hand, forestalling her movement.

"I almost forgot to tell you," Janeway said quietly, staring into her eyes. "You were so exquisitely beautiful today. I don't even have the words to tell you how much it meant to me to see you walking toward me in that dress or how you looked standing next to me at the altar."

Seven glanced down, blushing. "I am glad you liked how I appeared," she said softly. "I hoped that you would."

"I did," Janeway assured her. "Very much so." She smiled and brushed a lock of the Borg's hair from her forehead, her fingers lingering on Seven's cheek. "I love you, my darling. I'm so pleased and honored to be married to you."

Seven hugged her tightly, at a complete loss for words. "I love you, Kathryn," she whispered fiercely. "Forever."

Janeway kissed her gently, then watched as the Borg disappeared into the bathroom. She shrugged out of her tunic and found another bottle of champagne already chilling in an ice bucket. She poured two more glasses, then looked up as Seven rejoined her, showered, face scrubbed clean, dressed in silken, silver pyjamas. Her feet were bare and the captain thought she had never seen the Borg looking so young and alluring.

She handed Seven the glass and clinked her own against it. "To us," she said with another smile, both of them very aware that of all the toasts, this one meant the most.

"To us," Seven responded, her eyes glowing as she looked at her partner, sipping at the golden liquid.

Janeway felt a rush of anticipation skitter down her back. "Now, you relax," she instructed softly. "I'll be right back,"

She smiled seductively at the young woman, put the glass down on the table and headed for the bathroom. As the captain expected, the suitcase she had packed and brought to the holodeck the day before was sitting on the floor next to Seven's. On the wall, the wedding dress hung neatly from a hook and Janeway smiled wistfully as she saw it. She wondered if perhaps one day, someone else would wear it. Their offspring perhaps or possibly Naomi if they didn't make it back to the Alpha Quadrant as soon as they hoped.

Janeway stripped off her uniform and took a quick shower before pulling out the new, wickedly designed ebony nightgown she had replicated especially for tonight. She quickly dabbed perfume at her various pulse points, then brushed out her hair until it shone. She turned off the light and went into the bedroom, feeling tingles of desire reverberate through her.

Seven was asleep.

Stretched out across the bed on her back, eyes closed, hands folded neatly on her stomach, completely and totally oblivious to the rest of the universe.

Janeway stared at her in utter disbelief then with a rueful shake of her head, she glanced down at the gown she had so carefully picked out, smiling softly to herself. She returned to the bathroom where she removed the gown, folding it neatly for another time. She pulled on a robe and returned to the bedroom, digging out some spare blankets from the chest at the foot of the bed. Tenderly, she covered her partner up before slipping out of the robe and crawling into bed next to Seven, curling up around her. Her head had barely hit the pillow before she too was fast asleep.

And thus did they spend their first night as married women ... completely chaste.

Seven blinked, not knowing where she was. It took a few minutes to realize she was in the 'honeymoon cottage' and that she had fallen asleep the night before without performing the most important ritual ... the consummation of the marriage. Stricken, she glanced down to see Janeway pressed against her, eyes closed, breathing evenly and peacefully through the elegantly structured nose.

Seven couldn't believe it. She never fell asleep accidentally, only when she intended to. To have missed the most important night of her life ... at least, those were B'Elanna's words ... was something she did not think she could ever forgive herself for. She felt tears sting her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying to force them back before they spilled over.

She was not successful.

"Annika?"

Kathryn had awoken, had risen up on an elbow to look down at her with concern. Seven regarded her unhappily.

"I have failed," the Borg said.

Janeway looked confused. "How so?" she asked.

"I did not consummate our wedding properly," Seven responded in a shame filled voice. "I fell asleep."

To Seven's surprise, the captain chuckled and bent down, kissing her lips sweetly.

"Don't even think like that," Kathryn told her gently. She tilted her head slightly as she looked at Seven with warm blue eyes. "Annika, yesterday was probably the most emotionally demanding day we will ever experience in our entire lives. I admit, I felt a little disappointed when I came out and saw that you were asleep, but truthfully, the second I lay down next to you, I was unconscious, too. Obviously we were completely exhausted and we both know that's hardly the time to try to make love."

Seven considered that. "But is it not a tradition to do so the night of the wedding?" she asked uncertainly.

"Believe me," Janeway told her intently. "I'd much rather make love with you this morning and enjoy it thoroughly, than make an attempt last night that neither of us would have been able to fully appreciate. Don't ever let expectations or a tradition get in the way of happiness, Annika."

Seven felt great relief. "I am glad," she said honestly. "I was concerned."

Janeway smiled at her, brushing away Seven's few tears with gentle fingertips. "Don't be," she advised softly. Her eyes searched the young woman's face for a moment, then her smile widened. "We're married."

Seven felt her breath catch in her throat. "Yes," she agreed, her voice low so that she could control the quaver in it.

"Any regrets?"

"No," Seven responded instantly in a shocked tone, eyes wide.

Janeway kissed her lightly. "Me either," she said reassuringly. "In fact, it's the smartest thing I shall ever do in my life."

Since Janeway was probably the most intelligent person Seven had ever met, that was a profound assessment indeed. Seven wrapped her arms around the small woman and hugged her tightly, suddenly aware that the captain wore nothing while the Borg still had her pyjamas on. For some reason, this made her feel shy though that made no logical sense.

"Would you like me to remove my garments?" she asked tentatively.

Janeway's eyes took on an amused sparkle. "Why Annika," she said coyly. "Whatever did you have in mind?"

The playful tone served to relax Seven and she smiled back at the captain. "I think I would like to be as comfortable as you appear to be," she said.

"Then by all means," Janeway said, moving away slightly. "I'd hate to think you weren't comfortable."

Seven sat up and pulled off her pyjama top, then wiggled out of the pants, tossing them toward the foot of the bed. She snuggled back down in the warm spot beside Kathryn, gathering up the captain in her arms, the delicious sensation of bare warm flesh on her own like a homecoming.

"I am confused," she admitted into the captain's ear as she pressed against her. "I want to make love to you so much. Yet at the same time, I want to just lie here and hold you close to me."

Janeway made a quiet sound of agreement, nuzzling Seven's neck. "I know exactly what you mean," she responded in a murmur. "It's so nice to be together like this. As if the worst is over and now there's only the future stretching before us." She raised her head and softly brushed her lips over Seven's. "There's no rush, my darling. Time is something we have plenty of this week."

"That is the gift that Voyager's crew has given us," Seven allowed thoughtfully. "This time together. I had not realized what a wonderful thing it was going to be."

"Hmm, we must remember to write each and every one of them a really nice 'thank you' note," Janeway remarked, humor threading through her voice.

Seven kissed her gently. "I shall be sure to remind you," she said, filing it away in her eidetic memory.

Janeway kissed her back. "You do that," she replied.

They kissed again. Then again. It was wonderfully cozy, snuggled together in the warm nest of brightly patterned blankets and pillows, holding each other close. The kisses increased in duration but not in intensity, gentle kisses which held desire at bay for the moment though it lurked just outside, waiting its chance to sweep them away. Seven could not remember ever feeling this happy or secure, nor so comfortable at just being with her partner. There was no sense of urgency or demand ... just love, simple and easy.

Perhaps because we have no other demands upon us, Seven thought idly.  She knew that could make a difference.

Not so long ago but before Janeway's injury which cost her memories, a disaster involving a shuttle undergoing a slip stream drive experiment resulted in Seven and Janeway's being stranded on a planet for three weeks. The captain had tried to look at it positively, had called it a 'vacation' but while Seven had enjoyed their time together, there had always been an underlying edginess between them. Not necessarily because of the fact they were required to survive the elements ... that had turned out to be relatively simple ... but the fact that Janeway had been away from her ship. The captain had tried extremely hard to hide it, had appeared outwardly relaxed and composed, but Seven had sensed her partner's unease on some subconscious level. She recognized it now in retrospect because of how effortless this was; the captain was completely assured that her vessel was safe yet was not required to be responsible for it the next seven days.

"You know," Janeway said idly, between kisses. "I don't think I've ever made love in a holodeck."

Seven hesitated. "Actually, you have," she said.

Janeway blinked, drawing back to look at Seven. "I have?" she queried.

Seven smiled faintly. "We spent one evening in the holodeck," she told her. "Exploring our 'fantasies'. Yours was to make love on the bridge in your command chair."

"Oh my god," Janeway muttered. "I can't believe I ever told anyone that. Anywhere else?"

"No," Seven said. "Why?"

"I just have a mental image of you undressing by the couch in my Ready Room," the captain said, looking thoughtful. "I was wondering if we had ever been intimate in there."

Seven considered it, finally remembered what Kathryn was referring to. "No, we were not intimate," she explained. "It was a ... misunderstanding on my part very early in our relationship."

"Ah," Janeway said. She nibbled at Seven's bottom lip. "Have you ever wanted to make love anyplace other than our quarters?" she asked, an intrigued note in her voice.

"That was why we spent the evening in the holodeck," Seven told her honestly. "Making love on the conference table before the senior bridge crew during a staff meeting is not a practical thing to do in reality."

Plainly startled, Janeway regarded her with a crooked grin. "I should say not," she said, humor lacing her tone. She tilted her head. "I hadn't realized you were such an exhibitionist."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I am not," she said evenly. " I was merely curious. However, I believe that if you had the opportunity, you would actually make love in the real command chair."

Janeway stared at her a moment, then her lips twitched and she lowered her eyes, a pink flush tinting her cheeks. "I'm taking the fifth on that," she said dryly.

Seven nuzzled her. "Perhaps that is wise," she agreed, understanding the phrase because she had been involved in a court martial. "Because I would do my best to make your fantasies a reality."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Janeway allowed, eyes bright with mirth. She paused, then assumed that expression that Seven had learned to be somewhat wary of, as if the captain had accomplished something she thought particularly clever though not necessarily beneficial to all involved. "You know, I brought it along."

Seven stared at her blankly.  "Brought what along?"

Janeway wiggled her eyebrows.  "You know ... 'it'," she murmured slyly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "You did?" she said. She glanced around as if expecting the object in question to suddenly leap out at her from a place of concealment. "Where is it?"

"At the bottom of my suitcase," Janeway revealed. She crooked an eyebrow at Seven rakishly. "I was thinking that we could try it out ... seeing as we're on our honeymoon and all."

Seven blinked. "That would be ... acceptable," she allowed. Then she frowned faintly, regarding her spouse suspiciously. "You will not laugh when I use it?" she added warningly.

Janeway smiled widely. "I'll try to restrain myself," she said. "But even if I can't, isn't that part of the fun?"

Seven tried to understand that. "Sometimes I am still not sure why you find things amusing," she admitted.

Janeway studied her a moment, then hugged her tightly. "Annika, love, if I do laugh, it is never at you," she assured her. "But sometimes I would like you to learn how to laugh with me at various things."

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said. "I will try." She ran her hands lightly down the captain's back, feeling each little ridge of bone beneath her fingertips. Gently she kissed Janeway again, lingering a bit this time. "Would you like to try it now?" she offered huskily.

"Mmm, that would require one of us to go retrieve it," Janeway pointed out, smiling briefly. "I don't think I want to leave this nice warm spot and I know for a fact that I don't want you to leave me for a second either."

"Perhaps at a later time then," Seven noted and nibbled briefly on the captain's earlobe.

Janeway purred deep in her throat. "Good plan," she said.

They kissed again, deeply now, slow, openly tasting each other with quiet pleasure.

"Besides," Janeway murmured. "I think we're just about to get very busy."

Seven kissed her again.

"You are absolutely correct," she said.

The water was a crystal blue while below, the bottom was vibrant with a multitude of colors and textures. Janeway swam lithly through the blood warm sea, breathing easily through the respirator as she passed over the reef below. To her right, Seven's slim form knifed silver through the water, pacing her as they slipped through the gold and red fish schooling about them.

Janeway knew that they could easily do this without the diving equipment since the holodeck would not let them drown but the real key to enjoying this honeymoon was for them to accept it totally, believing as hard as they could that they were actually spending a week in the Caribbean islands. To that end, the crew had made the simulation as realistic as possible. There had even been a rude waiter the previous evening in the local nightclub which was located about a kilometer down the beach from their cottage. Seven had been appalled but Janeway accepted it for the clever bit of programming it was and merely laughed it off.

The captain discovered that she was truly enjoying herself. A discrete and very brief call to Chakotay every morning while Seven was otherwise occupied assured Janeway that her ship was functioning perfectly. That allowed her to concentrate completely on being with her spouse the rest of the time as they swam and played in the warm sea, took long walks on the beach, and sunned themselves on the spacious deck. The evenings found them enjoying a variety of dinner experiences at the nightclub which never seemed to serve the same type of food twice. Janeway did not think she would ever get over the sight of Seven attempting to eat lobster from the shell.

And of course, they made love. A lot.

A shadow darkened the water suddenly and Janeway looked up, startled as the deadly, torpedo shape of a tiger shark went over them. She hesitated, floating as the predator circled back, easing lazily around them before it abruptly turned and rushed toward her. Paralyzed, her eyes wide behind the mask, she could only stare helplessly as its rounded head with its huge mouth gaped open, the rows of razor teeth ready to slash at her.

Then Seven was in front of her, slamming her mesh covered left hand down across its skull. Dazed, it drifted to the bottom before shaking itself briefly and swimming hurriedly away.

Janeway was amazed to find she was chilled, trembling and when Seven motioned with her thumb, jerking it upward to indicate they should surface, the captain was hard pressed to ascend in a collected manner rather than the panicked thrashing she wanted to do.

She spat out her mouthpiece and gulped in lungfuls of the salt sweet air, blinking as Seven treaded water a few feet away, observing her curiously.

"What the hell was that?" the captain yelped.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "A tiger shark," she replied calmly. "No doubt B'Elanna's contribution. I believe she feels that R&R without a certain amount of risk is not worth the effort." She drifted closer. "It would not really have hurt you, you know."

Janeway felt her heart finally slow its rapid thumping. "I know," she said, embarrassed. She had actually managed to forget it was a simulation for those few terrified moments. "I just ... I was diving off Australia's Barrier Reef one summer during my Academy days and had a similar experience with a great white," she explained. "If I hadn't been in a cage ... well, let's just say it was very real, and very frightening. This took me back suddenly."

"I do not believe it was B'Elanna's intention to frighten you," Seven said. "It was just to enhance the program."

"I'm sure it was," Janeway said. "Remind me to 'enhance' her duty shift once we're finished our honeymoon."

Seven eyed her briefly, apparently decided she was being facetious and smiled faintly. "I will do that," she said. "Do you wish to resume our dive?"

"No, I've had enough excitement for one day," Janeway said. "Let's go in."

They swam toward the beach, allowing the waves to carry them onto the shore where they removed their equipment. Carrying their flippers and respirators, they crossed the expanse of white sand and emerald lawn to the cottage, entering through the glass doors off the deck.

"I'm going to take a shower," Janeway said over her shoulder as she dumped her diving equipment on a chair and headed for the ensuite.

She stood for a long time under the warm spray, getting rid of the accumulation of salt and sand though a quick request to the computer would have accomplished the same thing in a fraction of the time. When she came out, toweling her hair dry, Seven had built a fire in the stone hearth and the sun was setting magnificently over the ocean, the last rays illuminating the gleams in the oak stained wooden floor.

"Shall we stay in this evening?" Janeway asked as she settled onto the thick, bearskin rug beside Seven, accepting the glass of Chardonnay the Borg offered.

"I would like that," Seven responded, favoring her with an approving glance. "I'm sure we can replicate something."

The young woman had changed out of her swimsuit and was now garbed in a short black robe, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders as she reclined against several throw pillows propped up against the bear's head. The fire crackled cozily, casting flickering shadows over the long lean legs which were golden in the flame's glow. Janeway felt her heart start to pound again, this time for a much more pleasant reason, and wondered if it were permissible for a Starfleet captain to be this happy. Somehow, she thought, someone must have written a regulation against running a ship from the holodeck while in the company of an exquisitely gorgeous woman.

Seven seemed lost in thought, her pale eyes reflecting the fire as she stared into it. The full lips were far too inviting for Janeway and the captain leaned over, pulling Seven's face to her, kissing her spouse gently.

"A penny," she murmured.

"Kathryn?" Seven responded in a puzzled tone.

Janeway smiled. "A penny for your thoughts," she clarified. "What were you thinking just now?"

Seven turned the rest of her body so that she was angled more to her partner, raising a hand to gently stroke Janeway's cheek. "Many things," she admitted as her pale eyes searched Janeway's face. "How wonderful it is to be here with you. How much I enjoyed being with you today. I think that if I could spend the rest of my life just existing in your presence, I would never need for anything else."

Janeway put her glass of wine down and bent closer, leaning against the Borg as she looked deep into the young woman's gaze.

"Annika, you say the most wonderful things to me," she said softly. "And what is even more incredible is that you mean every single word."

Seven blinked, confusion shading her eyes. "Of course I mean every word," she said. "Why else would I say them?"

Janeway shook her head, smiling ruefully. "I hope you never find out," she said softly and kissed her, slowly, lingering over the lips with a complete and utter pleasure.

Seven made a soft sound in her throat and Janeway felt the strong arms encircle her, drawing her down until they were both stretched out on the rug, the captain resting on top of the lanky blond. Gentle hands began to caress Janeway through her robe, and they kissed again. Janeway thought there could be no better sensation than this, the warmth of this body against her, the love and caring that surrounded her palpably, the perfect taste of her partner's mouth on her own, the sense of sweet desire and slowly rising anticipation.

She opened her eyes, drawing back for a moment so she could look at the beloved features which regarded her with devotion and a quiet longing. Then, from the corner of her eye, the captain glimpsed a box sitting innocuously on the coffee table a few feet away.

"Oh dear," Janeway murmured, smiling. "Is tonight the night?"

Seven followed her gaze and blushed faintly. "If you would like," she responded in such a completely noncommital voice that Janeway was forced to grin, feeling a playful wickedness dance up her spine.

"Well, why not?" she said. She stretched out her arm, reaching over to the table, barely able to get her fingertips on the plain wooden box. She inched it toward her, finally able to grasp it firmly and bring it over to her. She placed it on the floor and used her fingernail to undo the clasp, lifting up the cover.

Inside lay the Wonder Wand 9000™.

Nestled in a bed of midnight blue velvet, the adult toy displayed its full length of thirty inches, looking far more formidable than it actually was, shaded a flat metallic grey and resembling humanoid male genitalia, devoid of any particular species characteristic or trait. The devices were constructed by the Ferengi's novelty manufacturing sector as an all purpose sexual aid, purchased by Starfleet to stock on their ships as part of the continuing effort to keep their officers content and happy on those long, deep space journeys. It boasted a variety of features and abilities intended to make anyone who selected it from the recreational data bank acceptably satisfied with its performance.

Janeway felt a snicker rise in her throat and she clamped down on it, having promised herself she wouldn't laugh. Not with her partner so close by, observing her with a vaguely wary expression.

"You will note that I had all of Jake's teeth marks removed," Seven offered helpfully.

The laughter exploded out of Janeway and she collapsed on top of her partner helplessly. She heard Seven sigh gustily which only increased the captain's consuming mirth until finally, weakly, Janeway subsided.

"Are you quite finished?" Seven remarked.

"I think so," Janeway said, before muffling another round of chuckles into the Borg's chest.

Seven stared at her, then shook her head briefly as if filing this away as just another idiosyncrasy of her partner's personality. She rose to her elbow, looking into the box with interest.

"Is there a particular method by which you would like to attempt this?" she asked.

Janeway shook her head. "I think we'll just have to wing it," she suggested. She eyed the simulated phallus judiciously and then glanced at Seven. "Let's get undressed and you can try it on first." She hesitated. "For size." Then snickered audibly.

Seven pointedly ignored her and sat up, shrugging out of her robe as Janeway followed suit. Nude, the captain sat cross-legged and watched as Seven removed the artificial penis and testicles from the box and placed the larger end of the device against herself. Janeway knew there was an orifice there which would surround the young woman's clitoris, the sensors within transmitting sensation to the little bundle of nerves, allowing the wearer to experience the impression that she had been ... extended considerably. Tendrils erupted from the base, encircling Seven's hips and connecting to the construct beneath. Once secured, the device could not be removed other than by a command from the external transmitter.

Janeway fished that out from the box, the remote control fitting neatly into the palm of her hand. She looked at the huge phallus towering over Seven's groin, caught between another bout of laughter and being impressed in spite of herself.

"First thing's first," she said, swallowing her grin. "Let's adjust this to something that won't give me nightmares."

Seven raised an eyebrow, reclining against the pillows as she split her attention between her partner and the artificial penis which was now attached to her. Janeway examined the controls, noting that the species setting was currently set on Horath mode, the hulking aliens from the high gravity planets which lay not too far from the Romulan Neutral zone. She knew they were big but she hadn't realized just how 'big' the males truly were.  So the rumors shared after hours in the Starfleet Academy dorms had been accurate after all.  She keyed in the Human option, the phallus immediately reducing in size by almost two and a half feet. A selection of parameters within the Human mode appeared in the tiny viewscreen, allowing the device to be further altered in order that a perfect fit could be achieved, and she amused herself for several minutes increasing and decreasing the length and thickness with keen precision.

"Will this take much longer?" Seven offered finally with forced patience, having been forced to lay there as the phallus expanded and contracted with what appeared to be random intent.

"Sorry," Janeway mumbled and hastily made her final adjustment so that the fleshy cylinder was now approximately six inches long and about an inch and a quarter in diameter.

Seven regarded it contemplatively.

"Is that large enough?" she asked doubtfully.

"You've been listening too much to B'Elanna," Janeway said dryly. "Believe me, it'll do for starters. It's been a while." She examined the controls again, looking at the other features. "Now I have to set the color."

"I really like blue," Seven said hopefully.

Janeway eyed her briefly. "I think not," she remarked evenly.

The captain altered the shade by miniscule degrees until she had achieved a Caucasian flesh tone approximating Seven's skin color. Janeway glanced at it, then was forced to stare, startled by how that simple adjustment abruptly made everything seem very accurate in its appearance. The captain felt a shiver of desire ripple through her, a fine sheen of perspiration breaking out over her entire body as her nipples hardened in the air which seemed far too warm all of a sudden.

As amusing as all this was, it was also serving to excite her. There was something wantonly appealing about Seven lying there with what appeared to be quite natural, fully aroused male genitalia sprouting from the thatch of fine blond hair which made up her very feminine triangle. Not to mention the incongruity of the firm, shapely breasts which rose so proudly from her chest.

No one can say that human sexuality doesn't take one into some odd situations, Janeway thought wryly as she regarded her partner.

"How does that feel?" she said asked, unaware that her voice had just dropped into a husky trill.

Seven blinked. "I don't know," she said uncertainly. She tentatively reached out and touched the tip of it, jerking a little. "Oh!"

Intrigued, Janeway also reached out and wrapped her fingers around the head. It felt quite warm and very real ... if her memories of previous lovers served her correctly ... and she could swear she could almost feel the throb of pulse within.

"I ... that feels very good," Seven said in an odd tone. "More than good."

"Does it?" Janeway said idly, running her fingertips down the length, tracing the ragged line beneath the penis to the soft sac of simulated testicles, prodding them carefully. It was, she noted, very well constructed and extremely realistic.

"Oh," Seven said again. "Kathryn."

Janeway glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as she saw how much Seven's respiration had increased, the full breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The Borg was in a full state of arousal, very close to an actual orgasm if Janeway could read the signs correctly. Bemused, she eyed the controls again.

"Ah," she said with sudden understanding. "There's a way to moderate the sensitivity. Right now it's at the highest setting." She grinned at Seven. "I don't believe you'd be paying much attention to me at that level."

"Indeed," Seven remarked, swallowing hard.

Janeway adjusted the setting, testing each level by fondling the firm fleshy rod. Seven climaxed three times before the captain finally found one that she thought would be suitable.

"Are you ready?" Janeway asked, tilting her head as she looked at Seven who was sprawled on her back, limp and sated even as the phallus stood firm.

"I am finished," Seven noted weakly.

"Oh darling," Janeway protested. "Not yet."

She lay down next to her, wrapping her arms around the lanky torso and kissing the young woman passionately. Seven perked up almost immediately and returned the kisses with steadily increasing interest. Janeway shivered as she felt the warm length of Seven press against her, the sensation of the phallus trapped between their bodies, prodding her in the navel, sending chills of anticipation through her even as the sensation felt very odd in this most familiar of embraces.

Loving hands moved over her skin with accomplished skill and when Seven bent her head to mouth the captain's breasts, licking and sucking on the nipples tenderly, Janeway responded with a cry and a sudden flood of moisture between her legs. Seven pulled her closer and began to roll them over.

"Uh, no, sweetheart," Janeway said, pushing Seven back. "Not like that. Not yet, anyway."

Obligingly, Seven settled onto her back once more, propping herself upright on her elbows.

"Stay still," the captain ordered in a low voice as she threw her leg over the Borg, straddling the young woman's hips as she rested her weight on her knees.

Janeway reached down between them and found the warm, simulated flesh, guiding it to the opening between her legs. She gasped as she felt the mushroom top press against her wetness, and she dipped the tip into that pool of moisture before sliding it up to rub against her sensitive ridge of flesh, moving it back and forth, swirling around her nub with delicious pressure.

"Oh, Kathryn," Seven moaned. She shuddered and Janeway knew her partner had just climaxed once more. The captain laughed huskily, feeling the undeniable need ripple through her.

"Darling," she murmured. "If you were male, you'd be completely useless to me by now."

Seven didn't answer, she just looked up at her lover with eyes which were full of desire and eager anticipation for the next new sensation.

Janeway returned the head of the phallus back to her opening, anointing it with her moisture, glad that lubrication did not seem to be a problem. She eased down onto it, gasping as it pressed against her and she wondered if she had made it too big after all when it abruptly penetrated past the first restrictive band of muscle, pushing smoothly into her, filling her with its hardness.

"Don't move," she muttered, feeling Seven stir beneath her. "Not yet."

Seven went completely rigid, every muscle tense. "It is difficult to obey," she replied, her voice strained. "I want to ... I want to push upward. It feels so good."

"You'll get your chance," Janeway promised, biting her lip as she sank downward until the full length of it was finally inside. Her head had fallen back and she swallowed, opening her eyes to look down at Seven who was shivering. She smiled sensually, breathing hard. "You like that?"

"It feels like I am inside you, Kathryn," Seven said, trying to explain. "As if your vagina is surrounding my clitoris."

Janeway laughed again. "Damn, these things are always built for the male perspective, aren't they?" she said. She began to ascend slowly. "Don't move," she reminded in a throaty voice. "Not until I tell you."

"I will comply," Seven whispered.

Janeway rose until just the tip remained inside her before lowering herself once more. Gradually she increased the motion, rocking on Seven as she got used to the feel of it, adjusting her angle until she found one that suited her. She groaned deeply when Seven slid her hand down to where they were joined, her fingertips seeking out Janeway's little nubbin of flesh, rubbing it back and forth.

"Oh god, yes, Annika," she moaned. "Now you can move."

She felt Seven's hips began to push against her, the narrow loins lifting her before they managed to find a complimentary rhythm, Seven drawing back as Janeway rose, then thrusting upward as the captain settled down. Janeway panted, letting out a little cry every time Seven's groin met hers, the sensation of their copulation becoming extremely real, as if it were indeed her partner inside as opposed to some replication. She rested her hands on Seven's chest, over the Borg's generous breasts, her palms unable to cover them completely, the combined feel of the feminine and masculine attributes wildly confusing but incredibly erotic and intense. She felt her heart pound as Seven's fingers steadily increased their rapid fondling, swirling around her nub with delicate precision. Janeway felt the desire build and build, sweeping her up, the experience overwhelming her with the sheer physicality of it all.

Then Seven was rolling them over and this time Janeway did not protest. She spread her legs wide around Seven's driving hips and felt the center of herself open to the remarkably controlled and even motion. And it was no longer a matter of male or female, it was just Annika, the person she utterly adored, making love to her with passion and joy, the body covering her, hot and slick from Janeway's sweat. Seven grunted softly as she thrust, seeming to reach a little deeper inside with every stroke as Janeway encouraged her, the words spilling from her lips, guttural and unquestionably profane, urging her lover on harder and faster until abruptly, Janeway was there, her orgasm catching her like a wave. She dug her nails into the sinuous back without restraint, clawing at Seven as she spasmed and cried out.

And she came again as Seven continued to thrust into her until finally, the young woman climaxed one final time, this one leaving her slumped bonelessly on Kathryn who fought to catch her own breath.

Cradling her lover in her arms.

"Darling, it's perfectly all right," Kathryn murmured, her body pressed against Seven's as she rested on her, her tousled auburn hair falling over her forehead into her eyes. "It's not for everyone."

Seven swallowed hard, feeling confused and disheveled. The firelight sent odd shadows across the ceiling and she watched them chase each other through the heavy wooden beams.

"But ..." Seven hesitated. She took a breath. "You have been with men and enjoyed it. B'Elanna boasts of how good it feels to have a large erection inside her. What is wrong with me?"

"There is nothing wrong with you, darling," Janeway insisted. "And I can assure you; while I enjoyed being with men and B'Elanna may brag about size, we both had to ... adjust to being penetrated. Obviously when you care about the man, and he cares about you, you learn to enjoy it a lot quicker but it still takes time and patience." She bent her head closer for emphasis, resting her forehead on Seven's. "In any event, Annika, I am not a man."

Seven was silent. "I would still love you," she offered finally. "If you were, I mean."

Janeway smiled. "I'm glad," she said. "I know I would love you too." She paused, thinking hard. "Darling, we're all individuals, and we all like different things. It can be fun to try new sensations but nowhere does it say we have to enjoy everything we attempt."

"If you were a man..." Seven began.

"If I were a man, I doubt very much we would be having this conversation," Kathryn interjected smoothly. "There would have been a certain motivation for you to adjust because male/female lovemaking generally includes penile penetration on a regular basis. That's not the issue here. Regardless of whether or not you use the device on me in the future, clearly you don't enjoy being penetrated in the same way. I do know that you are remarkably ... tight. Two fingers are usually all I can get in you so it's not surprising you wouldn't want anything larger than that. Unfortunately, the device simply cannot be made that narrow and while I know we could replicate a more specialized device, or that through time and patience, you could adapt and be able to accept penetration without pain using this one, there's no reason for you to make that effort with me. It's simply not necessary."

"But if you enjoy using the device, then I should learn how to accept it," Seven said slowly.

"No," Kathryn said firmly in a voice that did not invite debate. She frowned and paused, searching for the proper words. "Darling, if you're not experiencing pleasure, then neither am I. Forget the device for a moment. Do you honestly think I would enjoy you making love to me if I thought you disliked the sensation? Or conversely, would you want me to make love to you if you thought I hated how it felt?"

Seven thought about that. "I cannot even imagine that," she said honestly.

"Exactly," Kathryn said. "Darling, I enjoyed this experience, not only because the sensation of being penetrated feels good to me but also because I knew you were feeling a great deal of pleasure as well. When we reversed position, I was curious as to how it would feel to be inside you, especially after having witnessed your responses, but darling, only because I thought you would like it. As soon as I saw you turn your head away while I was trying to enter you, all the pleasure I was experiencing immediately stopped."

"I thought I could ... adapt," Seven admitted quietly. "But it was very uncomfortable."

"I could tell," Kathryn said. "That's why I asked you what was wrong. And darling, I shouldn't have had to ask you. The second you find you're not enjoying something, you have to tell me. I need to know."

Seven hugged her and rested her cheek against Kathryn's, closing her eyes. "Until tonight, nothing we did while making love ever made me uncomfortable," she told her. "But I promise to be more forthcoming in the future."

"Please," Kathryn whispered into her ear. "I only want you to have pleasure, Annika. Never pain. Never."

She kissed her gently and Seven accepted the caring and concern from her partner through that most loving of connections.

"What do you want to do now?" Seven asked softly, after they had parted.

"First, I'm going to take this thing off," Janeway said and Seven smiled faintly, feeling the device prodding into her side as the captain shifted uncomfortably. "Then we're going to take a long, lovely bath together before we scrounge up dinner. After that, I'm going to take you to bed and absolutely feast on you, my darling. I want to wake up in the morning with your taste in my mouth, with it painted across my lips, with your flavor residing on my tongue like a kiss."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes you say the most wonderful things to me as well," she noted dryly.

Janeway laughed. "I try," she responded.

She eased away from Seven's embrace and sat up, settling cross-legged on the rug as the phallus jutted up from between her legs. Her body was glistening red and gold in the firelight, slickly silken with bodily fluids and Seven thought that only Kathryn could look so completely composed and elegant while sitting naked in such a fashion. The Borg felt desire stir in her again.

"Will you let me sit on your face?" Seven asked hopefully.

Janeway glanced up, making a small twitch of distaste with her mouth. "Darling, please don't say it like that," she said.

Seven blinked. "But..." she began.

"I know it shouldn't matter," Janeway went on in a lecturing tone, "but there are more ... romantic ways to talk about sexual positions. Saying it like that gives it a crassness and that detracts from the experience."

"But..." Seven tried again.

"Honestly," Janeway added, her eyes roving over the floor as she looked around. "I think sometimes you pick up too many expressions from B'Elanna."

"I did not get that expression from B'Elanna," Seven protested.

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No, you used it with me during the night you were intoxicated," Seven said.

Janeway stared at her. "Oh," she said finally. She resumed her visual scan of the floor, obviously not wanting to pursue that particular line of conversation and abruptly changed the subject. "Where the hell is it?"

Seven sat up. "What are you looking for?" she asked.

"The remote," the captain replied. "This thing won't come off without it."

Seven considered that for a moment. She wondered if this was a situation where she was required to share amusement with Kathryn. However, Janeway did not seem particularly amused and Seven decided that perhaps she should not be either.

"That would be ... awkward," she offered finally.

"Yes it would," Janeway agreed. At this point she was up on her hands and knees, crawling about the floor as she looked for the elusive control. The phallus dangled ludicrously from her groin, waving back and forth like some form of sensing probe.

Seven bit her bottom lip. Suddenly she understood a little of the captain's mirthful attitude toward the device.

"Where the hell did it get to?" Janeway snapped with a touch of annoyance, looking under the sofa.

"Where did you last have it?" Seven asked as she also rose to her hands and knees, hoping that joining in the search would keep her from saying something that would reveal her amusement at the captain's predicament. She had to keep swallowing the snicker that insisted on rising in her throat, suspecting that Janeway would not appreciate it.

"If I knew that," Janeway noted, a trifle acerbic, "I would know where to look now. I know I had it just after I put this thing on. After all, I had to adjust it to your liking." She glanced down at herself, assuming an expression of disgust. "I really wish you hadn't insisted on the tiger striped pattern."

"I thought it would make it more ... attractive," Seven protested mildly.  "You would not let me make it the blue which glows in the dark."

"It would have looked like I had a nuclear cooling rod attached to myself," Janeway said grouchily.

They searched for a few more minutes as Janeway grew increasingly more agitated, and finally, Seven sent a mental signal to her cranial implant, adjusting her ocular orb to scan for transmitters emitting a certain frequency. She found the small device under the rug and handed it to Janeway who hastily removed the Wonder Wand 9000™ with a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"Annika, I don't think we'll be using this too often," the captain noted as she carried it along with its case to the ensuite. "It's just too inconvenient."

Seven followed her. "Perhaps we could attach a chain to the remote which would bind it to the accessory," she offered. "That way, it would never again become lost."

She did not understand why Janeway thought that was an unreasonable suggestion.

The sun through the french doors woke Janeway as it tumbled across her eyelids and she sighed quietly, turning her face away from the intrusive light. She debated commanding the computer to turn the simulation back to night again but they had made it this long without altering anything in the program and she hated to change that on their last day.

She opened her eyes as that thought sank in and she found herself staring forlornly at the ocean outside their cottage. It had been such a wonderful honeymoon, relaxing, loving, and best of all, totally uninterrupted. She wondered what time they were expected to 'check out' of the holodeck and how long she could delay the inevitable.

Seven stirred beside her and Janeway felt the tender arms encircle her, pulling her close.

"We must return to our quarters today," the Borg murmured against the captain's hair.

"I was just thinking that," Janeway responded softly, snuggling against her. "I could easily take another week of this ... or another year."

Seven hesitated as if about to argue, then she must have realized that her partner was not being serious and kissed her forehead instead. "I too, could remain here for another year," she said.

Janeway smiled and closed her eyes, nuzzling her face into the warm hollow of Seven's neck and shoulder. She could feel the younger woman's pulse flutter beneath her cheek, steady and strong and she kissed it as Seven's hands started to move over her, stroking her with gentle passion. They began each day now with long, leisurely lovemaking and the captain hoped that it was a tradition that would continue.

The sudden jolt sent the bed skidding across the room to slam into the wall and the couple instinctively flattened against the mattress.  The force of the collision sent Seven tumbling into the bulkhead with a muted thud and an expulsion of breath as the captain tumbled into her. Dazedly, Janeway struggled to free herself from the bedding even as Seven tried to do the same. There was another lurch as they stumbled out of bed and the captain was hard pressed not to fall, saved only by the strong hand which snaked out and grabbed her elbow.

"What is happening?" Seven asked as they ran for the ensuite where the closet held all their garments.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Janeway said shortly.

The simulation suddenly ended, flickering at first before disappearing to leave Janeway and Seven standing naked in the stark holo-grid. Fortunately, most of what they had worn the past week was real, brought in from their own wardrobes and they scrambled to gather up some clothes from the piles of bathing suits, burmuda shorts and short sleeved shirts which were scattered over the deck.

"Damn," Janeway muttered, grabbing some underwear and the only uniform she had brought ... the full dress whites she had been married in. "So much for the honeymoon."

"At least the crisis waited until it was almost over," Seven noted.

Janeway was astonished and somewhat chagrined to see that her partner had already pulled on her brown mesh bodysuit and was now doing up her hair. The captain hastily pulled on her trousers and threw on the uniform jacket over the snowy under tunic. Her boots took a little longer and by the time she was done, Seven was already at the door which was refusing to open.

Seven quickly pried off the panel and looked at the circuitry. "There appears to be a short," she said and started to work.

Janeway waited impatiently, curbing the urge to push her partner aside and tackle the job herself, well aware that the Borg was quicker and more adept at this sort of thing. Seven cross-linked some power relays and with grudging reluctance, the large doors parted enough for them to get through.

The corridor was awash with the sickly gold of a yellow alert status, crewmembers scurrying for their stations and Janeway wondered why Chakotay had not contacted her. Firming her jaw, she strode briskly down the hall, heading for the turbo lift.

"Do you want me in Astrometrics?" Seven asked, flanking her right.

"No, you're with me," Janeway barked as they plunged into the lift. "Bridge." She tapped her comm badge. "Captain to the bridge. Report."

"Captain, we're under attack," Tuvok's voice came over the communicator. "Commander Chakotay and Lt. Paris were out in the Delta Flyer when they ran into an ambush. When we attempted a rescue, the alien vessels turned on us."

Janeway frowned, annoyed that the security chief hadn't thought to call her at the first encounter, especially with the first officer off the ship.

"Perhaps communications could not get through to the holodeck," Seven said then, as if reading her mind. "The short that froze the doors appeared to have occurred with the initial attack. The power couplings involved also control the comm system."

"That may be the only thing that keeps me from yelling at someone," Janeway muttered. She was glad when Seven did not point out that Tuvok would be totally impervious to the captain's ire in any event.  Yelling at Vulcans was a very good way to look idiotic.

The captain tried not to fidget as the lift seemed to take forever to ascend then the doors were opening and they both plunged onto the bridge. On the viewscreen at the front of the command center, a star-dusted backdrop highlighted several small, maneuverable vessels which darted and flew at the Federation starship, green bursts of light shooting from them to impact on Voyager's screens with minor results. Seven immediately took up a position aft of the command chairs, accessing the auxiliary tactical/operations station. The captain remained standing, frowning as she looked at Tuvok who was replacing an ensign at his customary tactical post.

"Why didn't you contact me?" she asked.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "The level of the alien technology poses no real danger," he noted calmly. "It was entirely unnecessary to 'interrupt' you."

"I'll be the judge of that, Tuvok," Janeway said. "Besides, when the bed starts flying across the room and slamming into walls, the honeymoon is definitely over."

"Funny, I thought that meant it was just beginning," Harry mumbled at his post at Ops, then quailed immediately as the Captain turned and favored him with a look that registered at the medium heat level on the Janeway intensity scale. "Sorry," he said quickly, his face reddening.

Janeway turned her back to him before allowing the grin to ghost across her lips. She didn't have to look back to know Seven was regarding her with an indulgently tolerant expression. She didn't mean to pick on Harry, really she didn't but the young lieutenant just made it too easy sometimes.

"Have you tried hailing them?" she asked, even as she knew it was unnecessary. Her crew was good, they wouldn't overlook something so basic.

"No response," Harry said crisply.

"Where's the Delta Flyer now?" she asked.

"It is standing by, ready to return to the hanger bay at the first opportunity," Tuvok responded promptly. "Voyager is maintaining a position that keeps us between the shuttle and the aliens. Although their weapons can do no more than cause minor interruptions in the ship's integrity field, we are unable to lower our shields in order to facilitate docking."

"Why were Chakotay and Tom out there?"

There was a hesitation and she had to look over at him before he answered.

"Apparently," he said slowly. "There was disagreement on the respective piloting abilities of the two men."

She considered that and stifled the urge to roll her eyes. "Are we invading someone else's territory?" she said, almost to herself. She lifted her head. "Seven, do you recognize any of those vessels?"

"Negative, Captain," Seven responded. "They are not anything the Borg have encountered before.  I would point out however, that the profiles of the ships appear to be a combination of several different technologies."

"A joining of cultures?" Janeway said thoughtfully. "So it's unlikely they couldn't translate our messages. Why shoot first then?"

"Perhaps it is not a matter of having inadvertently invaded their space," Tuvok speculated. "Perhaps they are conducting an ... illegal foray."

Janeway looked intrigued. "Pirates?"

"Possibly, Captain," Tuvok said. "If that is the case, then they received more than they bargained for when they attacked the Delta Flyer though there would be no way for them to understand that it was merely a shuttle from a larger vessel rather than an independent vessel."

"You haven't fired back yet?" the Captain asked.

"We were preparing to when you arrived," Tuvok said. "We had exhausted all attempts at a peaceful solution to this."

"Ah, well, then by all means," she allowed, waving her hand. "Target their engines, Tuvok. Let them know that we'll put up with this foolishness for only so long."

The security chief moved his hands lightly over his board and on the viewscreen, Janeway saw the red phaser fire erupt from her ship, intercepting one of the swiftly moving vessels. It impacted hard, a spout of gases and flame spouting from the side of the targeted vessel as it was sent tumbling end over end. A second shot took out another of the small ships and suddenly, the rest of the pack seemed to find themselves late for other appointments, scattering in different directions as they fled the scene even as the two damaged ships limped away at a much reduced pace.

"Lower the aft shields," Janeway said. "Bring the Delta Flyer home."

"Delta Flyer is now docking," Harry said, studying his board. "Shuttle has landed, hanger bay is secured."

"Resume course for the Alpha Quadrant, ensign," Janeway said to the dark haired helms woman who had been covering Paris's station. "Warp six."

"Aye captain."

Janeway turned to Tuvok. "You have the bridge," she said. "I'm returning to my quarters to change. In the meantime, inform Mr. Paris and Mr. Chakotay that I wish to see them in my ready room at 1100 hours."

"Understood," he said. He seemed to have no opinion on what that portended though Janeway thought she saw Harry wince a bit from the corner of her eye.

She smiled faintly and headed for the turbo lift. Seven was already there and the captain waited until the doors were sealed and the lift was descending before eyeing her curiously, nudging her slightly with her shoulder.

"Are you upset that we cut short our final day?" she asked.

Seven shook her head. "It was time," she said. She raised an eyebrow. "However, it would be prudent for us to return to the holodeck now to retrieve our belongings."

Janeway took a breath. "Good god, you're right," she said. "We certainly don't need someone to go in there and start picking up our clothes. They might find that box and open it."

"I can't imagine what would happen if I let the Wonder Wand 9000™ fall into the wrong hands."

Epilogue

Their quarters looked exactly the same as the last time they had been in them but for some reason, Seven felt oddly different upon entering. She did not think that just being married would make such a change but she could think of nothing else that would cause this alteration of her perceptions. She carried the suitcases into the bedroom and placed them on the bed as Kathryn disappeared into the ensuite. Seven unpacked the two containers, placing their worn clothing into the recycler to be cleaned before placing the plain wooden box into a drawer in the night stand.

She dealt with the wedding dress last, holding it up before her as she stared at it. Memories of the ceremony, of how she had felt, of how Kathryn had been so nervous, crossed her mind and she was unaware that a fond smile had curved her lips. She smoothed her fingertips over the lace, tracing the bodice and her eyes grew distant.

The captain exited from the ensuite, having replaced the dress uniform with her tradition red and black outfit. Seven discovered she was there only when Janeway slipped her arms about her waist from behind and hugged her.

"Remembering?" Janeway asked softly.

"Yes," Seven said. "This shall always be associated with such good memories for me. But the tradition is that I am not supposed to wear it ever again.  I find I am ... disappointed by that.  I felt so happy when I wore it."

"Well, you might get another chance," Janeway told her. "I was thinking that when we return to the Alpha Quadrant, I would like for us to renew our vows ... in front of mother and Phoebe at the actual church. How would you feel about that?"

"I would like it," Seven said, enchanted by the idea. "Is it permissible?"

"Oh yes," Janeway said with a gentle laugh. "And I think in this case, practically required. How can I deny Phoebe the chance to see how terrified I get at the altar?"

Seven put down the dress and turned, taking the captain into her arms. "Hopefully, you will not be so nervous the second time," she murmured, resting her chin on top of the auburn hair.

"No," Janeway disagreed thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure I'll be just as frightened." She drew back a little and favored Seven with a soft, shy look. "But I know you'll get me through it, just as you did this time."

Seven kissed her forehead. "I would," she promised. She hesitated. "Do you feel differently?"

"How so?" Janeway asked, tilting her head as she gazed up into the taller woman's features.

"It is just ... I feel differently than I did before," Seven said, struggling to find words to describe her feelings. "That I am no longer the same as before we were married."

"Ah," Janeway said, understanding dawning in her blue-grey gaze. She mulled it over. "I think I do as well. I didn't think it would make suce a difference, but you're right, it has.  It's as if our relationship has achieved a more solid foundation somehow, yet still remains very precious, very delicate. We must take care to remember this feeling, Annika. To know that our love and our life together is never something we can take for granted, that we must always cherish and nurture it."

"I agree," Seven said, pleased that Janeway had understood her so well. Perhaps that was a side effect of the vows they had shared. Somehow, the captain knew her even better now as she knew Janeway better though how the understanding had come to them was still a mystery.

She closed her eyes and hugged her spouse tightly, secure in the knowledge that whatever lay ahead, this bond they had fashioned between them could not be broken.

Not by anything.

The End

•  This is the 15th installment in the Just Between series.  It is in a little different format than I would normally write so I'm not entirely sure I pulled it off. But it was challenging to try.

• To Kate who helped me figure out what was bothering me about it. And to E. C. Marks for the title.

• This story was written and posted around the last of February, 1999, after the events of the show's season five up until The Disease.

Just Between Dusk & Dawn
G. L. Dartt

1900 Hours (Dusk)

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and currently the astrometrics officer for the starship Voyager, glanced up as the door to her quarters hissed opened. She was preparing a batch of caramel brownies and she was surprised when she saw her partner, and spouse of less than a month, enter. Captain Kathryn Janeway's expression was blank, a mask of command and infinite control, something the smaller, more compact woman generally discarded immediately upon walking through that door.

However, Seven knew why she did not this particular evening.

Janeway stared at her briefly, as if not clear exactly on who the young woman was or what she was doing here. Then her blue-grey gaze dropped, and she abruptly went into the bedroom. Seven returned her attention to her food preparation, her heart aching, wishing she could do something ... anything ... knowing that it was probably beyond her abilities.

Earlier in the day, Voyager had encountered a spatial abnormality which had resulted in a hull breach on deck seven. The gravimetric forces had sucked two Voyager crewmembers, Ensign Val Wallace, a Starfleet officer and Lt. Jona Antor, a Bajoran Maquis, into the unforgiving vacuum of space. They had been beamed back as soon as possible but it had been too late, both men instantly killed by the explosive decompression. Seven had known the two fairly well, having been in the same department, but at the moment, she was far less concerned with their loss, and infinitely more worried by how Kathryn was reacting to the tragedy.

There was no way to predict what exactly would trigger it, but Seven had seen the captain react badly to unexpected setbacks before, including a few times during their romantic relationship. One had occurred shortly after they had become intimately involved and Seven had been unprepared for how Janeway had responded to the demise of a group of refugee aliens she had escorted to what Voyager had believed was a safe haven only to find out later that a natural disaster had wiped out the small colony. The captain had rebuffed all the young Borg's attempts at comfort; had in fact, been quite abrupt and cold to her during the entire difficult week afterward. In some ways, it had seemed that Janeway treated Seven with a great deal more harshness, and was far more bitter in her manner when speaking to her than with anyone else. It was only in retrospect that the young Borg realized the captain had not so much been striking out at her, but at the unfeeling universe, and it was only Seven she allowed through the impassive command mask to witness her deep anger and heartfelt sorrow.

However, understanding it did not make the misdirected anger easier to accept, and it had taken a while to mend the rift which had developed between them. In some ways, it had never really been repaired, manifesting itself in a lot of small, fierce quarrels blamed on other things before the Borg Collective suddenly returned to assimilate Seven a second time. The subsequent trauma of Janeway also being assimilated pushed the earlier friction completely aside, and it was never again touched on by either of them.

Seven could only hope that she would be able to handle the situation much better now. She was aware that Kathryn felt the life of every crewmember was hers to protect, and keep safe To have two young people die on her watch in such a senseless way ... Seven knew that Kathryn was in her own personal hell at the moment. She just didn't know how to help her out of it.

Seven smoothed down the gooey caramel and chocolate flavored batter, preparing it for baking. She knew that Kathryn would not wish to eat or drink nor would she sleep well, if at all, for days, but the Borg still hoped that this special treat could possibly tempt the captain from her self imposed misery. Even it if was only a minor distraction.

Seven raised an eyebrow as Janeway returned to the living area and took a seat on the couch, staring darkly into the rest of the room as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs, her hands dangling limp and unresponsive between her knees. She had dressed in the baggy blue t-shirt and black trousers that Seven abhorred, knowing that Janeway only wore that outfit when she was upset or depressed. It was like a huge flashing sign, indicating that her beloved was unhappy and symbolizing Seven's utter failure to help her.

From the corner of her eye, Seven picked up on a stealthy motion from the other inhabitant of their quarters. The couple's Irish Setter, Jake, slowly crept across the room on his haunches, inching closer and closer to the couch every second. Despite the situation, Seven felt her lips quirk in amusement, and she lowered her face to hide her brief smile as the long legged pup gently eased his head onto the captain's boot and exhaled with a gusty sigh.

When that did not seem to crack his mistress's shell of despondence, Jake carefully stood up and pushed his head gently between Janeway's hands. That caught the captain's attention and for a moment, human and dog regarded each other uncertainly. Then slowly, Janeway's fingers gently stroked the rusty haired head, scratching behind the floppy ears. Jake's tail began to wag, a gentle sweep back and forth over the coffee table and Seven was glad that they no longer kept ornaments on the transparent surface. It hadn't taken long after Jake had reached this height for the pair to realize his tail was a massively destructive weapon. All the various knickknacks the couple had collected were immediately raised to higher shelves ... those that had survived.

Seven popped the brownies into the heating unit and began to clean up her work area, keeping an eye on the captain as she did, granting Janeway the space Seven knew she required at such a time, but still wanting to be nearby.

It was possible, however, she considered suddenly, that Janeway would prefer that Seven find another place to be this evening. Seven understood that this was as much her home as it was Kathryn's but the Borg also recognized the need for solitude when one was upset. Perhaps after dinner, Seven would make a point of spending some time in astrometrics, or go visit B'Elanna Torres, the ship's chief engineer, and her closest friend on the ship after her partner.

"What's for dinner?"

Janeway's voice was a surprise, not only because Seven had not anticipated that the captain would speak to her this evening, but the rustiness in it, as if Kathryn had not used her voice for a long time. Janeway had rushed to sickbay, arriving in time to see the Doctor fighting with all he had in the frantic attempt to bring back the crewmembers, but it had been too late. Seven had already been there on a routine maintenance of her implants, and remained to assist when the medical emergency had occurred. She did not think she would ever forget the expression that crossed Janeway's face when the Doctor relayed the bad news, though it had been quickly and completely covered by the command mask.

The captain had then returned to the bridge to organize the repair teams while Seven had set about determining the complete extent of the damage to Astrophysics, as well as to the rest of that immediate section. Voyager was forced to cordon off that area of the ship where some of the bulkheads had been structurally weakened, but none of the sections were particularly crucial to the ship's functionality. Seven was able to return to her quarters at the end of her shift despite her vague sense of disapproval at not immediately throwing all Voyager's resources into complete repairs.

However, Seven also knew that while the captain wouldn't want her crew to exhaust themselves, Janeway was much harder on herself, and would most likely attempt to overwork regardless of future considerations. The Borg had not expected to see her at all this evening, and as a result, she had not planned anything for their dinner.

"Do you have a preference?" Seven asked evenly, regarding her compassionately.

Janeway slipped onto the stool on the other side of the counter, resting her chin wearily in the palm of her hand, her elbow propped on the counter's smooth surface.

"Not really," she said quietly. "I'm not even hungry." She paused, looking at Seven sadly. "But I promised you I would take care of myself. Maybe I can keep at least one of my promises."

Seven looked at her, wanting so much to reach out and enfold the captain in her arms, and sensing that it was not yet time. She knew the 'promise' Janeway had made to herself was to get every member of her crew back to the Alpha Quadrant safe and sound. The captain had broken that vow today ... at least, in her own mind.

"I shall make something light," Seven said gently. "I am not that hungry, either."

She went over to the replicator and keyed in a program for a variety of vegetables and mushrooms as well as the captain's favorite dressing. She took the large tray which materialized and placed it on the counter, separating the food items as the captain observed with a distant air. Seven hoped that by watching her prepare dinner, Kathryn would be soothed somehow. The Borg knew that she herself felt better for engaging in the repetitive motion of chopping and slicing, of tossing the assorted vegetables into the wooden bowl.

She was heartened when the captain reached out and snagged a few slices of cucumber, crunching on them idly.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Seven asked quietly.

Janeway shook her head. "No," she replied shortly. "I don't like to drink when I'm ... I just shouldn't drink right now."

Seven considered that carefully, wondering what it implied exactly, then decided not to worry about it. She was just so gratified that, unlike before, the captain was not attempting to shut herself off from contact, was making a concentrated effort to retain a connection to her partner.

The salad was thrown together quickly and covered liberally with the dressing, then Seven replicated a container full of juice, a blend of cranberries and apples that she particularly liked, before carrying the salad bowl and pitcher over to the table. Janeway seemed to realize that she was being a little lax suddenly, and rose quickly to set the table. Seven helped her and it wasn't long before they sat down to dinner.

The meal was eaten in silence, not exactly terse, but not entirely comfortable either. When they were finished, Janeway assisted in clearing the table, then retired back to the sofa where she resumed her previous pose, one of infinite weariness and defeat. Seven checked the brownies, found that they were done and placed them on the counter for frosting. She slid the flat utensil over the surface of the dessert, smoothing out the top layer of melted chocolate, then ran a thread of golden caramel in a wavy pattern for decoration. She did not offer the captain any of the sweets, but made it very clear that they were available, the warm aroma of the baked goods filling the air with what she hoped would provide an irresistible lure, before covering them with a stasis wrap, leaving them to sit visibly on the counter.

She walked over to where the captain was sitting and perched gingerly on the coffee table, looking at Janeway, waiting patiently until the level eyes, far more gray than blue at the moment, finally rose to meet hers.

"I was planning to go out to speak with B'Elanna for a little while," she explained softly. "However, it is nothing that cannot wait. Would you prefer I stay? Or do you wish to have some time to yourself?"

Janeway gazed at her for a moment, almost as if she couldn't quite understand what the young woman was saying, then she nodded slowly.

"I think that's probably a good idea," she said in that same rusty tone. "I'll see you later."

Seven hesitated, then leaned forward and gently kissed the captain. She lingered, giving Janeway the opportunity to change her mind with a physical gesture if a verbal one could not be found but the captain did not take it, drawing away.

Seven took a breath and got up. She tried not to look back as she exited the cabin.

2000 Hours

B'Elanna Torres was lounging on her couch with her feet up, a mug of Klingon ale propped on her belly, unwinding from what had been a very difficult day. The chime to her door sounded and with an inaudible growl, she glared at it.

"Who is it?" she snapped.

"Seven of Nine," came the immediate response.

B'Elanna sighed. Seven was one of the few people she could tolerate seeing at such a time, even as she wondered why the Borg was at her door. She would have thought Seven would be with the captain. Though when the captain was in a mood ... the Klingon did not exactly blame the blonde for wanting to be somewhere else.

"Come in," she said.

The tall woman walked in, pausing as she observed B'Elanna's pose. Seven was an imposing figure with light hair held back in a severe bun, and frosty blue eyes which could impale with the force of a grade six laser beam. Her curvaceous form was covered in a blue and grey outfit, spike heels giving her even more stature, and a grace which occasionally made the smaller, more compact engineer feel awkward and clumsy ... though B'Elanna tried not to let it affect her attitude toward the Borg.

Anymore.

B'Elanna gestured lazily to the chair opposite hers. "Have a seat, 'Nik," she said, utilizing the shortened version of Seven's Human designation. "Want a beer?"

Seven hesitated. "Is that anything like 'mead'?" she asked coolly, but the Klingon could see the hint of humor warm the pale eyes.

B'Elanna grinned crookedly. "Doesn't taste as good," she admitted. "Maybe something else?"

Seven shook her head. "I do not require anything at the moment," she said as she took a seat in the offered chair. She sat primly, knees precisely aligned, hands folded neatly on her lap. Her back was straight even as she settled against the cushions of the chair.

"What's up?" B'Elanna asked, tilting her head as she regarded her friend.

"Kathryn requires some ... space," Seven explained. "So I told her that I had to speak with you."

"Ah," B'Elanna said and took a long swallow of beer.

That was the thing with Seven. You could ask her anything and she would tell you honestly, flat out, regardless of how inappropriate or excessive or even plain rude it was. It was a trait that B'Elanna had not always appreciated, but had gradually learned to respect. The dark-haired woman took note of the hint of strain around Seven's full lipped mouth, which was about all anyone could ever detect with the other woman as an indication that things were not all right. B'Elanna supposed that the captain could probably read Seven better than anyone, an ability which had existed from the very first moment Janeway had laid eyes on the Borg. Perhaps that was why the captain insisted on keeping her on board even when many thought that was a fairly bad idea.

B'Elanna had been one of the more vocal objectors, and it had taken a long time before she had found some common ground on which to maintain a civil relationship with Seven. From such a shaky beginning, however, they had managed to form a unique sort of friendship.

"What about you?" B'Elanna asked slowly. "Jona and Wallace were in your department. Their deaths must be hellishly inconvenient."

With anyone else, she would have tempered her words, found a more delicate way to phrase that, something that very much went against her Klingon nature. After a lifetime of trying to follow Human standards and ideals, recently ... specifically after her break up with the ship's helmsman, Tom Paris ... B'Elanna had allowed her other, more forthright half freer rein. She still had to control it with most of the people she encountered but with Seven she could say exactly what was on her mind. B'Elanna found it wonderfully relaxing.

"Their contributions shall be missed," Seven allowed. She hesitated. "I did not know them as I do you or my other friends, but I find that just the concept of their deaths is troubling to me. It is not something I entirely understand."

B'Elanna considered that, staring into the golden depths of her mug. "Maybe you're just becoming more Human," she suggested. "Fear of death, regret at a lost life; those things are particularly hard for you. It's not like being Klingon where, though we know it will always defeat us in the end, death is an enemy to be fought honorably. The challenge is not that you must die, but how well you die."

Seven regarded her evenly. "You are not entirely Klingon," she pointed out calmly. "I suspect that the deaths of these crewmembers bothers you more than you are willing to admit as well."

B'Elanna eyed her, then let out a snort of laughter which held little humor. "Got me there, 'Nik," she said. "Can't say as today left me feeling particularly good." She raised her mug. "Hence the liquid dinner."

Seven tilted her head slightly as she regarded her. "Do you feel responsible in some way?" she asked curiously.

B'Elanna considered it. "Maybe indirectly," she admitted finally. "The ship and how it runs is my responsibility. I can't help thinking that if only I had done something here or another thing there, maybe the sensors would have picked up the anomaly ahead of time, or maybe the integrity field in that section could have been stronger." She sighed and shook her head. "Yet, sometimes things like this just happen. They're no one's fault, but we all feel a little responsible anyway."

Seven nodded thoughtfully, and a hush fell upon them as they pondered the mysteries of life and death, B'Elanna sipping her drink quietly.

"Kathryn is especially disturbed," Seven noted after awhile.

B'Elanna took a breath. "Yeah, she would be," she agreed. "The captain always takes this sort of thing hard." She uncoiled from the cushions, her muscular, compact body springing from the couch to the replicator where she refilled her mug. She glanced back at Seven. "Sure I can't get you anything?"

Seven considered it. "I will have a glass of champagne," she decided finally.

B'Elanna stared at her, raising an eyebrow. "Celebrating?" she said sardonically.

Seven blinked. "No, I merely like how it tastes," she said. "Is celebrating a requirement for drinking it?"

B'Elanna was forced to think about that for a moment. "It is traditional," she allowed finally. "But hell, since when have I been a stickler for tradition?"

"As recently as my wedding," Seven pointed out, frowning faintly.

The Klingon grinned and keyed in the commands, replicating a tall, flute glass of bubbly, bringing it over to the Borg who accepted it politely. B'Elanna then slumped back down on her couch and took a long pull from her beer.

"So the captain's in a mood, is she?" B'Elanna asked. She could see that the Borg needed a minute to work that out, and another one to decide whether to answer it or not. Originally, Seven had been honest to the point of being wildly indiscreet but time ... and a few hard lessons ... had taught the blonde that while she did not have to alter her approach of complete truth, she was not always required to volunteer it either.

"Kathryn shows one aspect of her grief to the crew," Seven said finally, "and another to me. Although she seems to become even more cold and professional, in truth, she is in great distress."

"So what are you doing here?" B'Elanna asked plainly.

Seven blinked. "I asked her if I should leave, and she told me that it was probably a good idea," she said with a touch of confusion.

"Ah, but what someone says is not always what's best for them," B'Elanna allowed. "In fact, the harder someone tries to drive you away, the more they actually want you to stay."

"They do?" Seven was clearly astonished.

"You know, Janeway's good at that sort of thing," B'Elanna added thoughtfully. "It's as if when presented with two ways to do something, an easy way and a hard way, she'll always take the more difficult road. On the other hand, maybe she really doesn't want to see anyone."

"How does one decide which is the case?" Seven asked, disturbed.

"Take a guess," B'Elanna told her, aware of just how unhelpful that was. She sighed. "Honestly, Seven, it's a crap shoot. You take your chances."

"Indeed," Seven said unhappily.

"Tell you what, give yourselves a couple of hours and then go home," B'Elanna said, soothingly. "That way you've given her a little time to herself, but haven't been gone so long as to give her the impression you've abandoned her."

She wondered why she was giving advice to Seven since the Borg's relationship with the captain was highly successful whereas all of the Klingon's affairs tended to self-destruct, particularly in the last five years, beginning with Tom Paris, the ship's helmsman to her most recent fling with the ship's first officer, Chakotay. Still, the Klingon thought, her advice was always sound. Her biggest problem was that she failed to follow it in her own dealings with romance.

Seven nodded pensively. "I accept that as a reasonable compromise," she allowed. She raised an eyebrow and offered her now empty glass. "In which case, I believe I have time for another."

"You sucked that back a little quick," B'Elanna protested even as she got up to replicate another champagne though she made a point of keying in the non-alcoholic variety. If Seven noticed, B'Elanna would point out that they both had to be on duty the next day. Her own beer still contained a certain percentage however.

After all, it was a proven fact that she could hold her liquor much better than Seven.

Seven sipped at the bubbly beverage, shot a sharp look at the engineer but apparently decided to let it pass. "How do you deal with losing people under your command?" she asked softly.

B'Elanna took a breath. "'Nik, the men were in astrophysics, but you're only the department head of astrometrics," she said. "They weren't really under your command. I appreciate that you might feel that way, but trust me, they were more my people than yours."

Seven looked vaguely confused. "I was not asking in regards to me," she explained.

"Oh," the engineer mumbled. "Sorry." She studied the golden depths of her malt. "I mourn them, I try to make sure what killed them couldn't happen again, and then ... I get on with my life."

Seven lowered her eyes. "I am not entirely sure it is that easy," she noted.

B'Elanna eyed her sardonically. "I didn't say it was easy," she said. "Just that it's how I deal with it."

"Is there nothing you can do to make the adjustment to the loss easier?" Seven asked.

B'Elanna glanced at her mug. "The liquid dinner," she reminded pointedly.

"Ah," Seven said quietly. "I believe I understand. Certain drugs have the ability to soothe sorrow, or assist in altering one's perception," she said.

B'Elanna's lips twitched. "You could say that," she said dryly. "But that sort of perception is only temporary. It can't be relied on."

Seven's eyes grew darker.

"Perhaps temporary assistance is all I require," she said thoughtfully, as she stared into her glass.

2100 Hours

After Seven left, Janeway found herself missing the young woman, even as she was grateful for the solitude. She had promised herself that she would not take what she was feeling out on her partner, but she had to admit that she had greeted the young woman's suggestion that she find someplace else to be with relief. She was torn, a part of her wanting urgently for Seven to stay so that she could curl up in the Borg's lap and lose herself in the loving embrace, shutting out the universe and all its heartache. The other part of her, however, the captain part, demanded that she accept the weight of these deaths by herself, to accept the responsibility of having let those crewmen down. That was her constant burden, the onus she had accepted years earlier when she was granted that fourth pip, when she took command of the ship named Voyager.

When she lost it in the Delta Quadrant.

She rested her forehead on her palms, closing her eyes as she felt the all too familiar despair and depression seep through her. I can't let myself fall into this hole again, she thought desperately. Not like I did when Daddy and Justin died. Not like I have so many other times. Seven doesn't deserve this. My crew doesn't need this. I have to get this under control.

She remembered the long months wallowing in grief after the loss of her father and fiance, and it had taken a concentrated effort by her younger sister, Phoebe to drag her out of bed and get her back to some semblance of living again. Perhaps even that attempt would have failed had not a little pup come across her path, half frozen, damned near dead, in dire need of care. Accepting responsibility for the dog she eventually named Petunia, had helped her resume her life and career.

Her knowledge of what happened more recently in the void, just before she lost her memories, was even more disturbing to her. From her logs, she knew she had first greeted the stretch of open space with eagerness and gratitude, the lessened demand of ship's business coming as a welcome relief. She and Seven had spent several days just enjoying their opportunity to be together, the captain delighting in the sense that for just a while, she wasn't needed to shoulder the constant burden of command. It turned out to be a deceptive freedom, however. Eventually, Janeway's thoughts turned inward, becoming introspective, the command part of her agonizing over her selfish and arrogant decision four years earlier, the knowledge that she had chosen to strand 150 people in the Delta Quadrant, condemning her crew to possibly never seeing their home again. The guilt had all but consumed her, and she had withdrawn into herself, spending long hours in bed, not wanting to rise, and refusing to talk to anyone, even Seven for long periods of time, much to the young woman's confusion and hurt. If it hadn't been for Voyager encountering a threat two months into the void, endangering her people, and forcing the captain to once more assume the mantle of command, Janeway could only imagine how it would have ended.

She was honest enough with herself to know she had never really dealt with the guilt which caused her depression, that the danger to her ship had merely allowed her to put it aside and not have to think about it directly. It still lay there, festering just below the surface, a constant ache in the core of herself.

She took a shuddering breath and stood up, turning to stare emptily out the large windows where the stars streaked by. Though she didn't remember it clearly, as with the void, she was very aware that she had struggled with another, even stronger trial during this long journey home, the most powerful she had ever faced and even now, she wasn't entirely sure how she survived it. The logs had recounted Seven's supposed death, and how Janeway had managed to keep functioning despite the crushing despondency still surprised her. When the young Borg had returned, healthy and whole, the relief and renewed sense of hope must have been like a release, and perhaps the return had come just in the nick of time for the captain's sanity.

Now, here Janeway was again, perched on the edge of that black spiral of hopelessness, and the frightened woman didn't know how to control it in such a way that it would not affect Seven even more profoundly this time.

The captain tried to think of other things, tried to pull back from the brink. Her mind drifted to her recent wedding. That day had been the happiest she could ever remember experiencing in her life though, as always, it had been touched by the sense of sadness at being so far away from the Federation and her family. Perhaps that was why this was hitting her so hard. She had found a sort of home on Voyager, a place here in the Delta Quadrant with a young woman who filled her life with joy and love. What had happened today was a harsh reminder that they were not home, that others were not happy and fulfilled, that the situation the rest of her crew found themselves in was ultimately of her doing.

What right did she have to be happy?

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath, glancing around blankly in search of something ... anything to help her focus. Over in the corner, Jake had long since given up trying to cheer his despondent mistress and was flopped onto his doggy bed, chewing on a replicated beef flavored bone. Janeway thought that this was the first time in a long time the pup had contented himself with his cushion rather than the couch where he had staked a very aggressive claim. She observed him bleakly. While he had been a puppy, these living arrangements had been fine but as he grew in size and mass, it was becoming increasingly clear that their living quarters were becoming correspondingly smaller and more crowded.

Voyager was not equipped with family quarters. The captain's cabin was probably the largest abode on the ship, and if she and Seven wished to expand, there were only two ways to go, either by displacing Chaotay to the port side, or taking over the guest quarters to starboard. Janeway did not think either was viable. The ship's normal crew compliment was 141 and that was when the ship was fully manned. The ten extra bodies which had resulted when the Starfleet crew and the crew of Chakotay's Maquis cell merged had put a strain on the resources which they were only now adjusting to comfortably; requiring a side trip to the Beta Quadrant as well as all the equipment which Seven, B'Elanna and Chakotay had brought back with them from the Alpha Quadrant to make it that way.

A recent wrenching in the wake of a slip-stream propulsion system had weakened the ship and this latest encounter with a spatial anomaly had reminded everyone of just how marginal everything was out here. There were no friendly space stations to provide an opportunity to overhaul the vessel, no backup by other Starfleet ships to lessen the threats and challenges that came their way, no way to send a cry for help when they needed it.

The work they had done in applying the slip stream drive to the ship had offered the hope that they would return home much sooner than the originally projected 50 or so years, but it was a tentative hope, one that came and went with each new test, each new discovery, each new adaptation.

Now, of course, there were two more crewmembers who would never see the Federation again.

Janeway thought that if only she could cry, perhaps the sense of unrelenting pressure inside her would somehow go away, but she also suspected that it was a futile hope. Crying had rarely helped her before and besides, she really hated to cry. It felt defeatist and weak when she most needed to be strong.

She wondered where the hell her spouse had disappeared, and how much longer she would be away from their quarters. Janeway needed to concentrate on something else for awhile and that was much easier when Seven was around. The captain felt a definite sort of annoyance, the sense of being abandoned, completely ignoring the fact that Seven had given Janeway every opportunity to ask her to stay. After all, if Seven were truly her soul mate, the captain noted grumpily, she would understand instinctually what her partner needed.

Janeway recognized the last as being completely unreasonable but she wasn't in a very reasonable mood at the moment. She trusted that Seven would understand that when she gave her a piece of her mind whenever the young woman finally wandered home.

2200 Hours

Sickbay was quiet and Seven looked around curiously, discovering the Doctor and his medical assistant, Sek, in the CMO's office, spotting them through the transparency that looked out into the rest of the medical facilities. Through another door, from the corner of her eye, Seven spotted the glitter of stasis fields and she only had to take an additional step to see the sheet covered forms laid out on two tables. The corpses were awaiting final disposal, which would most likely involve interring them in torpedo casings and firing them into the closest star. There would have to be some form of memorial service, and Seven did not look forward to how that would further harm the captain. She took a breath, straightening her shoulders, then headed for the office. Both the Doctor and Sek looked up as she entered and it seemed that there was honest pleasure in their eyes at her arrival.

That was not as simple as it sounded. Both beings were actually holograms, constructs of light and gravimetric forces produced by emitters controlled by computer programs. The Doctor had the ability to tap into the ship's main database, and the enhanced programming of being able to learn from experience ... something the Starfleet computer experts thought would make the matrix far more efficient. What they had not anticipated was the program remaining activated continually for five years as he replaced the ship's chief medical officer who had died on Voyager's arrival in the Delta Quadrant. Over the course of that time, the Doctor had achieved sentience though it was not something formally recognized in the ship's logs until his medical assistant, Sek, was created. The crew had been forced to address the touchy issue then.

"Are you all right, Seven?" the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow. A sparse, trim man, his matrix had been based on the appearance of a Dr. Zimmerman who had a balding pate, and slightly crooked eyes, though the hologram's personality was a combination of six of the greatest doctors in Federation history, not the least of which was one Dr. Leonard McCoy of the 23rd century USS Enterprise.

"I am functioning acceptably," Seven said. She hesitated, then looked straight at him. "I wish to know if there is any medical solution to reverse the way Kathryn is feeling?"

She saw she had startled them both and she wondered if she should have come here. The Doctor settled back on his chair behind the desk and motioned for her to take the empty one across from him, beside where Sek was sitting.

"Do you feel that the captain needs medical treatment, Seven?" Sek asked gently.

Sek was based on the personality profile of a crewmember named Kes. A Delta Quadrant native, Kes's people, the Ocampa, were the main reason for Janeway to have made the decision she had all those years ago. Had the captain taken advantage of the alien array which had transported them all those light years from home and returned to the Federation, she would have left the alien artifact in the hands of the Kazon, a hostile species which threatened to destroy the gentle, subterranean dwelling aliens. In what Seven knew had been a most difficult decision, Voyager had destroyed the array rather than let it be used against the Ocampa and hence, lost their only chance to get home. Kes had chosen to remain on board the vessel, and over the better part of her life span ... the Ocampa were extremely short lived ... she was able to tap into her psychic abilities and evolve into a higher life form.

Her leaving had corresponded with Seven's arrival, and though the Borg never really had the chance to know her, Seven understood the female's absence had left a large hole in some of the crewmember's lives, particularly that of the Doctor. Kes had been both student in medical matters and teacher in that of being alive, and her leaving had left the Doctor in the unexpected position of being lonely. For a brief time, Seven had filled that void somewhat but when the necessity for a medical assistant had become paramount in order to perform a very delicate operation on Seven, the Doctor was quick to offer Kes's profile for the personality matrix.

"She is very upset," Seven replied. "Though she attempts not to show it. It is similar to the way she has behaved before." She turned to the Doctor. "Do you remember how she was during the period of time the ship was traversing the void? And how she acted when she believed I was dead? I believe she is experiencing those same characteristics now."

The Doctor regarded her gravely. "Seven, I am quite hesitant to discuss this with you," he said. "There is the question of patient confidentiality regarding the captain. Yet at the same time, I have to admit, in both the cases you cited, Captain Janeway displayed many symptoms of acute clinical depression. However, unless it affects her ability to command or she personally requests help, I am not authorized to do anything for her."

"I am requesting it," Seven replied. "I know there are drugs which can be used to treat depression."

He looked sympathetically at her. "There are, Seven," he said gently. "However, the captain is not medically unfit to conduct her own affairs. It would be wrong of me to interfere or try to administer a medical solution which truthfully, should only be considered if all other options have failed. Not to mention the fact that it would go completely against her wishes. I could speak with her if you think it would help, but I suspect it will do little good. She's never listened to me before and I will tell you, I'm not about to barge into her quarters and confront her about this. It would only do more harm than good."

"Are you afraid of her?" Seven asked in a challenging tone.

He paused, then smiled thinly. "Frankly, yes," he said. "Besides, Seven, how can I demand to be treated like an individual by her, and then refuse her that same courtesy? I can't do anything, Seven, not now, but I assure you, I am keeping an eye on the situation."

"I wish to help her now," Seven said plaintively. She knew that this had been somewhat of a long shot but she had hoped that the Doctor could perhaps come up with an immediate medical solution to Kathryn's unhappiness. Despite B'Elanna's advice, the Borg was hesitant about returning to her quarters, not anxious to compound the captain's agitation with her presence

"You can listen, Seven," Sek offered gently. "Sometimes that can make all the difference. She knows you love her. It will help for you just to be there for her."

"She did not want me around this evening," Seven protested. "I asked." She paused. "B'Elanna says that sometimes what is said is not always what is meant."

"I would not be taking either romantic or medical advice from Lt. Torres," the Doctor said dryly. "However, it is a rather astute assumption by our chief engineer. It's entirely possible that just as the captain refuses ... or at least, did at one time ... to eat correctly or get enough rest, she could be refusing to have you around her even though that's exactly what she requires at the moment."

"So you are in agreement with B'Elanna," Seven said and raised a brow as the Doctor winced slightly.

"Apparently," he allowed reluctantly. "In any event, I do think if you make yourself available to the captain, you might be able to offer her a way to help herself."

"Yes, Seven," Sek added gently. "Try to understand, at times like this, people strike out occasionally. You just have to remember that it isn't you she's angry with, but at the universe in general."

"I do understand that," Seven said. She lowered her head. "However, it is sometimes hard not to take it personally when she is displaying anger toward me," she added in a softer voice.

"She loves you, Seven," Sek said compassionately. "Don't forget that. It's just that she takes any death of her crew very hard."

"Yes," the Doctor interjected. "She would have made an admirable medical officer."

Seven looked at him. "Is that how you look at death?" she asked curiously.

The question seemed to catch the hologram off guard. He took a moment to consider it. "I suppose I do," he allowed with a certain amount of surprise. "Perhaps that's why my program was disrupted when I was required to make a choice between who was going to live and who was going to die."

"But you got through it," Sek noted, smiling warmly at him. "And the captain will get through this." She looked at Seven. "With your help."

Seven nodded. "You are correct," she allowed finally. She stood up abruptly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Anytime, Seven," the Doctor said.

Seven left sickbay and headed back to her quarters. Now that she had gotten a second opinion, she was better prepared to face whatever came her way with this evening. She would do everything in her power to help Kathryn through this ordeal, something she had been unable to accomplish the previous time.

Though she sensed it was going to be a long night.

2300 Hours

By the time the doors to the quarters had hissed open to admit her wayward spouse, the captain had managed to work herself into quite a lather. The sight of her partner gave focus to all the negative emotions which had been roiling inside her, and she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Seven with all the intensity of a force ten Janeway 'Look'.

"You have duty tomorrow, you know," she snapped. "I thought you were only going to be gone a few minutes. It's been three hours."

On a purely subconscious level, she expected Seven to respond in that infuriatingly cool manner she had, noting that she had not specified exactly how long she would be gone, and even if she had, she was an individual and fully entitled to be gone as long as she wanted. Marriage did not mean one owned another, and for Kathryn to believe that was both illogical and presumptuous. Then Janeway would reply that marriage was a series of compromises, and that if Seven was not prepared to make the simplest of allowances in their relationship, then the captain simply didn't know why she had married her. Which would, of course, make Seven feel as bad as Janeway, and thus proved the contention that misery, did indeed love company.

Instead, Seven came over to her and wrapped her up in her arms, hugging her tightly.

"I love you," she whispered fiercely into Janeway's ear. "I know that you are very angry right now even though I understand it is not really with me. I wish you to know that I will listen to whatever you must say."

She released her and stood patiently, her head tilted slightly, giving the captain her complete and undivided attention. Janeway opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, then stared stupidly at her partner.

"Damnit, you should have contacted me to tell me you were going to be late," she said finally in a gruff voice.

"Yes," Seven agreed readily.

"You have to tell me where you go," Janeway tried challengingly. "As well as exactly how long you'll be there."

Seven didn't bite. "I will from now on," she promised sincerely.

"At all times," Janeway insisted.

"Of course."

Janeway frowned, then looked away from the pale eyes, unable to hold their gaze. "Well, all right then," she said, feeling completely inane, and further annoyed with Seven for making her feel that way. She glanced at the closest chronometer and noted the time. "I guess it's time for bed," she added grumpily.

Seven regarded her curiously. "Do you wish to shout at me some more?" she asked in an encouraging tone.

"No," Janeway snapped and went into the bedroom.

Not able to believe how uncooperative the Borg was being, Janeway undressed grouchily and prepared for bed, slipping into a pair of grey pyjamas before crawling between the sheets. Normally she would take the middle of the mattress but tonight she huddled on her side near the edge, her back to the center of the bed, her body curled in on itself, protecting her middle from the outside.

She heard Seven come in, listened as the young woman also prepared for bed and then slipped in beside her. She felt the gentle lips brush over her temple, but stubbornly, she pretended to be asleep and Seven settled back against the mattress. Minutes passed, time stretching interminably as Janeway lay frozen, not wanting to toss and turn and disturb Seven whom she believed had finally fallen asleep, but completely unable to achieve any sort of relaxation for herself at all. She could not keep her mind from racing from one despairing thought to another, torn between wanting to roll over and hug Seven, never letting go, and resenting that warm presence which slumbered so easily in the bed beside her.

Finally, after what seemed hours but was probably only about thirty minutes, Janeway slipped out of bed once more, tiptoeing out to the living area in her bare feet. She stepped on one of Jake's toys, muffled a curse and limped over to the bookcase. She searched the lower shelves, finally finding a book of poetry, and curled up in the chair with it, opening it to a familiar and much loved passage. She tried to find some solace in the verse that lay on the page, tried to find consolation in the archaic black ink on paper, in the solid weight of the tome in her hands. Where it had once brought her a poignant sort of comfort, however, it did not reassure her this night. The words ran together, becoming an incomprehensible maze of phrases and thoughts that made no sense. Frustrated, she flung the book across the room, realizing only after it left her hand that Jake was curled up on the couch. The book slammed into the window and fell to the cushions, dropping onto his hindquarters which startled Jake awake. He yelped loudly and leaped off the couch, skittering across the room with his tail between his legs until he was cowering under the table by the entrance.

"Oh god," she said and got up quickly, crossing the room and kneeling by the table. "I'm sorry, boy. It's okay." She crooned softly, coaxing him out where she patted him lavishly. "My god, what's wrong with me."

She felt tears fill her eyes, her throat closing, and then there were loving arms around her, pulling her up and holding her as she turned into the warm embrace.

"Oh, Annika," she wept, burying her face into the younger woman's shoulder. "I think I'm going insane."

"No," Seven told her intently. "You are just unhappy, Kathryn. We will find a way to make it all right. I swear this to you."

Janeway allowed Seven to lead her over to the couch where they sat together, the young woman cradling the smaller woman on her lap as Janeway cried, very much afraid that she wouldn't be able to stop. Yet, she did eventually, and Seven held her close the entire time, stroking her, soothing her, comforting her, and even Jake came over, the unexpected fright apparently forgiven and forgotten, inserting himself in the impossibly small area remaining, snuggling his head onto her lap. Janeway felt surrounded by their love, by their support, and it seemed that whatever was crushing her finally eased ... ever so slightly.

"We are your family, Kathryn," Seven whispered. "We are always here for you. You just have to let us in."

"I don't know if you can," Janeway told her in a choked voice. "I don't know that anyone can. I just get like this."

"You 'get like this' because I have not been prepared to help you before," Seven said in a firm tone. "Now I am and we will find a way to resolve this. I saw what it did to you when you thought I was dead. I saw what it did to you when you were in the void. Phoebe told me what it did to you when your father died. It is not good for you to be so distressed that it affects your functionality, Kathryn."

"I know that," Janeway said softly. "I just don't know how to stop from feeling this way."

"Then we shall talk about it until we discover a solution," Seven promised. She hesitated. "Do you remember when all the personalities of the beings I assimilated began to take me over?"

"Yes," Janeway responded sadly.

Seven held her tighter. "You stayed with me for hours," she said evenly. "Talking to all the various personalities that manifested, encouraging me to be strong whenever I managed to regain some control. Can I do any less for you? Especially now that you are my wife?"

"I don't know that discussing it will help," Janeway warned wearily as she rested her head on Seven's shoulder, cuddling close despite herself. "It didn't in the void."

"You refused to speak with me, or anyone else, for that matter," Seven pointed out. "Just as you did when you believed I was dead. Tonight, however, we shall try to talk it through, no matter how long it requires."

"What  makes you think that will work?" the captain protested.

"Have you ever attempted intense discussion in an attempt to ease your sense of isolation?" Seven demanded.

Janeway hesitated. "Not that I can remember," she admitted.

"Then it is an option that must be explored," Seven pointed out.

Janeway closed her eyes. "I guess you're right," she said, wanting to reach out so badly for the assistance so freely offered but still unsure, still afraid to let someone else try to reduce this burden. "Maybe I never had anyone I could talk to before at times like this."

Seven stroked the captain's hair gently. "You do now," she told her sincerely.

"I wouldn't even know where to start," Janeway objected, her last weak defense against the unknown, the fear that perhaps this would not make it better either which would leave her with no hope at all.

Seven rested her lips against Janeway's temple. "We will start with today," she suggested quietly. "There have been other crewmembers who have died, but their loss did not send you into this spiral of despair. What makes this situation different?"

Janeway took a deep breath, leaning unhappily against her lover. "I don't know, Annika," she confessed. "Honestly I don't. It was just so unbelievably senseless ... usually I can keep it under control but today ... " She trailed off, trying to find the words to describe what she was feeling and completely unable to, a sense of helplessness starting to creep over her.

"Perhaps it was the two deaths at the same time," Seven ventured slowly.

"That didn't help," Janeway allowed. "One was bad enough..." She hugged Seven briefly about the neck and then pulled away. "I need some coffee," she murmured.

"Would you like me to brew some?" Seven asked, nodding toward her kitchenette. "I feel that we should not go to bed until we have managed some sort of resolution with this."

Janeway truly did not feel like talking but she was also very aware that she couldn't afford the depression which had gripped her so tightly on previous occasions. She had to get a handle on it, if not for her own sake, then for Seven who was now her wife. At the very least she'd get a pot of Seven's remarkable coffee out of it. She supposed that alone was worth the attempt.

The couple untangled from each other and rose from the couch, moving over to the kitchenette. Janeway perched on the stool as Seven began preparing the coffee beans in the small grinder, and the captain discovered she was eying greedily the caramel brownies which she had been steadfastly ignoring before. Carefully, she edged out three of the gooey squares from beneath the stasis wrap and bit into one, surprised at how much the familiar taste seemed to make her feel better, the combination of chocolate and caramel like a homecoming of sorts.

Seven glanced back at her, smiling faintly and not for the first time, Kathryn was reminded of her mother. She didn't know what it was about the Borg that was so reminiscent of Gretchen Janeway, but it was something that displayed itself when the captain least expected it. Perhaps it was the loving, caring nature of the young woman, or the way she tended to nurture those within her sphere of influence. In any event, it had provided the captain with a sense of contentment she had never experienced with anyone else.

"I realized recently that I still feel a certain amount of resentment toward my father," she said suddenly, surprising herself as much as she did Seven who looked up from what she was doing with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed?" Seven prompted.

Janeway examined her train of thought. "I think ... " she began slowly. "I always knew what it cost me to have him gone so much but we managed to resolve that before he died. However, until I was with you, I didn't really realize what he cost Mother." She stared at her brownie with the distinct bite mark, eyes distant. "She raised us, made a home for us, and never let on that she ever felt cheated or resentful of Father's position with Starfleet."

"Perhaps she did not feel cheated," Seven said quietly.

Janeway raised her eyes to meet Seven's. "Did she tell you that?" she asked keenly.

Seven blinked. "The matter of your father did not come up," she said. She hesitated. "However, I would not remain quiet if your position with Starfleet kept taking you away from me. I thought I could once, but not now, not once we had married. You belong to me, not to them."

Janeway felt a tiny grin quirk the corners of her mouth, the first she could remember experiencing in what seemed like days. Sometimes Seven displayed a ferocity that showed itself at the most unexpected times, a bellicose defense of the people she loved; in its own way, stronger than even Janeway's sense of protectiveness.

"You're not my mother," Kathryn pointed out quietly. "You and she might not look at things the same way."

"No, but I do not believe Gretchen would have accepted anything simply for the sake of accepting it either," Seven said as she finished grinding the beans and put them in the coffee maker, setting it to brew. "She is far too strong and self-assured for that."

Kathryn was startled. She realized that she had never truly considered her mother as 'strong' before, yet it occurred to her that Gretchen Janeway would indeed have to be strong to have raised two children primarily on her own, to sustain a marriage for years in a century when it was so easy not to renew a marriage contract, to have provided her children with a warm and loving home, all the while being a supportive and loving spouse without a harsh word directed to her husband ... at least, not in the girls' earshot. The captain found herself wondering what sort of marriage her mother and father had, how they had managed to keep it going. She had always assumed it was a happy one, but now she realized she had no real basis for that assumption other than the fact that her parents had never indicated anything different.

"Maybe she didn't love him as much as you love me," Janeway said softly, not wanting to contemplate that even as she accepted the possibility.

Seven eyed her. "Or perhaps she merely loved him more than he loved her," she suggested. At Janeway's expression, she clarified. "I am mindful that love is when you place the other person's happiness ahead of your own. Your father loved being in Starfleet more than he loved her ... otherwise I do not believe he would have allowed his job to take precedence over his family. Yet, she allowed him his choice by not objecting to his constant absences."

Janeway took a breath. "I don't know that it's that simple, Annika," she said, struggling with concepts about her parents she had never before considered. "There was a possible war brewing with the Cardassians, he was called on to do his best to help protect the Federation. That is the duty of every Starfleet officer."

"Perhaps," Seven said. "However, I doubt very much that he went to his death regretting that he did not do more for Starfleet. I do believe that, in his last moment, he probably regretted not having done more for his family." She looked at Janeway with serious eyes. "I know you adored him, Kathryn, but I believe he was not as good a parent or husband as he could have been. He gave Starfleet a priority above the people he loved."

Janeway needed to take a few seconds to absorb that and not overreact. "He was a great man," she said stiffly. Yet she could not forget that last evening they spent together talking, the way his face crumpled when she told him she had never known he was proud of her, his horrible distress as he admitted how his family had paid the price for his duty.

"I understand that," Seven replied evenly. "Yet, not all 'great' beings are people who are particularly happy, merely focused and driven."

"I've always considered myself to be very like my father," Janeway countered stubbornly, and had the presence of mind to realize she had just granted Seven's point somewhat. "My greatest strengths come from him," she added quietly.

"No doubt," Seven noted. "Tuvok, however, believes that your greatest strengths are also your greatest vulnerabilities. In fact, I think we are dealing with one now. Your compassion for others, your need to be responsible for them is what makes you a captain that many would follow into a quantum singularity itself. Yet, it is a sense of responsibility that is overdeveloped, just as I suspect it was in your father." She paused, searching for words. "You cannot be responsible for everyone's life, Kathryn. You can only really be responsible for your own."

Janeway frowned, watching as Seven poured her a cup of coffee. She regarded the smooth black surface, breathing in the rich aroma. "I can't agree with that," she said finally. "I am captain. Accepting that fourth pip makes me responsible for everyone under my command."

"Not like this," Seven insisted as she retrieved some fruit juice for herself, and leaned on the counter, searching her partner's face. "Kathryn, as captain, you are responsible for leading the crew, for protecting us, but you are not responsible for our happiness or for our emotional well-being. You presume too much."

Janeway picked up her cup and slipped off the stool, walking back into the living area, not wanting to look at Seven suddenly. "I am responsible," she said softly, staring out the windows lining the hull, watching the stars streaking by, distorted by the warp bubble around the ship. "It was my decision to stay here, it was my decision to strand us in the Delta Quadrant. It was selfish and it was wrong. I'd give my life to be able to go back and change it."

There was silence and she glanced back to see Seven standing there, looking absolutely devastated. Shocked, Janeway wondered what she had said to have so disturbed the young woman.

"I see," Seven said, with apparent difficulty. "You regret your decision."

"Very much so," Janeway said, confused at Seven's response. "I should have chosen differently."

"Then we would never have met," Seven noted unhappily, "and would not be married now. I would still be with the Collective, possibly dead now as a result of the war with Species 8472. I had not realized you regretted that so profoundly."

Janeway abruptly realized what true regret was. It was words that she would give her life to take back at this precise second.

0000 Hours

Seven dropped her eyes and stared at the counter, wondering at the ease and depth with which Kathryn could hurt her. With mere words, the captain had made her completely unhappy, and it was done so casually, without a thought. She was vaguely aware of Janeway coming closer, moving around the counter to stand by her as the mug of coffee was placed carefully on the counter, then Seven felt the captain's hand rest tentatively on her forearm.

"That's not what I meant," Janeway said gently. "Annika, I can never regret knowing you."

"You cannot have it both ways," Seven said miserably.

There was a silence as the Borg sensed her partner trying to find the right words.

"What I regret," Janeway offered finally. "Is that my crew does not know the happiness I have found. If it were just my life, if it had only been me lost in the Delta Quadrant, there would be absolutely no regrets, Annika, none at all. Please believe that. I love you with all my heart." She slipped her arm around the Borg's waist and rested her forehead on Seven's shoulder. "Annika, I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I'm so sorry I've been acting like such a bitch today. You deserve so much better. I promise to be different from now on," she added in a somewhat plaintive tone.

Seven took a breath, feeling that strike her to her heart. She was allowing her own vulnerabilities to overcome the point of this evening, which was to help Kathryn achieve resolution. Instead, the captain was being deflected again, taking responsibility for the Borg and distancing herself from her own problem. She turned and gathered Kathryn up in her arms.

"No, I am sorry," she said sincerely, hugging her tightly. "I know that you do not regret loving me. I just wanted you to understand that it hurt me to hear those words from you, and it is not the first time I have heard them. I had hoped you would have realized by now that while your decision five years ago may have harmed some people on this ship on a limited level, there are many others who are far better off for the choice you made. Not just myself."

Janeway squeezed her back, resting her forehead on Seven's chest. "Annika, I know you are trying to make me feel better but ..." she began in a muffled tone.

"No," Seven interrupted her. She drew back so she could stare at Janeway, really wanting the captain to hear her words and understand them. "I have been remiss. I believed that certain truths were self-evident to you and now I see they are not."

She took Janeway's hand firmly in her own and drew her toward the chair in the living area, pausing briefly as Janeway retrieved her coffee. She made sure Janeway was comfortable in the chair before perching on the footstool, resting her hands on the captain's knees.

"Kathryn, let us look at this logically," she said. "You are operating with the assumption that other than yourself, everyone else is worse off for your decision. That is untrue. First of all, 35% of the crew is Maquis. Had you returned to the Alpha Quadrant, they would have been imprisoned. Can you imagine how B'Elanna would be if she had gone to a Federation prison rather than having the opportunity to be your chief engineer? Or Chakotay's spirit locked away for years simply for following his own path?"

Janeway bent her head. "All right," she said quietly. "You've made a point there, but the fact is, they probably would have served only short terms."

Seven took a breath. "In which case, they would now be dead," she said flatly. At Janeway's startled glance, she squeezed the captain's knees lightly. "Kathryn, you know the Federation are at war with the Dominion, and one of the things that precipitated that was the fact that the Jem'Hadar tracked down and eliminated the Maquis. Not just made it difficult for them to operate or disrupted them by eliminating the key members ... they searched out and destroyed every single person who had been a member of the resistance group. So 35% of the people you know and see every day would now be dead or in prison had you not made the decision you did five years ago."

Janeway stared at her and Seven knew that now, she had truly made her point. However, she was not finished. "Let us also take individuals such as Neelix and Kes," Seven went on without mercy. "It is entirely possible that they would have died at the hands of the Kazon instead of finding a home here on Voyager. Kes most certainly would not have evolved into a higher existence had she not been exposed to all she had during her journey with you. Would you deny her that? What of Tom Paris? I have spoken with him, and he has freely admitted that if you had not given him the opportunity you did, he would most likely be 'lying in a gutter, drunk' somewhere. Is that a fate you would wish on him?"

Janeway seemed a little stunned, as if she had been broadsided. She took a deep breath. "What about those who have died here in the Delta Quadrant?" she said in a voice devoid of inflection. "You can't claim those people are better off for my decision. Certainly, not the Starfleet officers who lost their careers and families."

Seven was not stymied. "We have established that those who were Maquis would be dead in any event," she said. "As for those in Starfleet; the Dominion war, at the time we were on DS9, was killing over a thousand Starfleet officers a day. The odds are very good that many of those who have died here, as well as those who are still alive now, would also have perished at the hands of the Cardassians and the Jem'Hadar. It is difficult to pursue a career and family when one is no longer alive."

Janeway stared at her, then took a long pull from her coffee. "That is all speculation," she said finally.

"Yes," Seven said honestly, "but certainly no more than your assumption that Voyager's crew has been irrevocably damaged due to your decision, the very assumption on which your depression seems to be based. I, at least, have evidence upon which to base my speculation."

Janeway studied her mug intently. "Have I ever mentioned that you don't fight fair," she mumbled.

Seven rubbed her thumbs idly on the inside of Janeway's knees. "I wish we had fought about this before now," she said with great sincerity. "I assumed you were aware of these things, Kathryn. I am sorry."

"However, you're not responsible for me," Janeway said with a sudden spark of contrariness, tossing Seven's own words back at her.

"I chose to love you, Kathryn," Seven insisted quietly, not budging. "Loving you means doing my best to help you achieve happiness. I knew this bothered you, and I should have done what I could to present all the facts."

Janeway sighed. "It's not that simple, darling," she said, "though I certainly wish it was ... as I discovered while I was lost in the void."

"I did not fully understand what you were experiencing," Seven said, somewhat sadly. "I knew that you were acting abnormally, but I did not know how to help. I do not know if Chakotay's solution of formulating a 'mutiny' was the right one, but it occurs to me that he should have presented the same argument to you that I have, rather than confront your command authority."

"At the time, Annika," Janeway pointed out. "We didn't know exactly what was going on with the Federation and the Dominion."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed reluctantly. "However, I wish I had been able to speak with you in this manner then."

Janeway shook her head. "I would have just brushed you off, Seven," she said. "When I convince myself of something, it's extremely hard to change my mind." She hesitated. "I don't believe you had the same influence on me then, that you do now as my spouse."

"No?" Seven said in honest disbelief.

Janeway's lips twitched. "Did you think you had?" the captain asked with a hint of dry humor.

Seven blinked. "I know I have altered your opinon on many things since we became involved," she reminded her

Janeway considered that. "So you have," she said with an unfathomable expression. "Perhaps our talking would have changed things after all." A shadow of sadness crossed her eyes. "Perhaps I wouldn't have been so quick to abandon you and my crew by trying to remain behind in the void."

Seven regarded her. "You did not want to," she said quietly. "Not really. Otherwise, none of us could have stopped you from taking a shuttle and holding open the worm hole. Chakotay was gambling that our unified approach would show you how much we all cared for you ... how much we all needed you."

Janeway lowered her head. "Sometimes it's hard to be needed that much, Annika," she said softly.

"I need you," Seven said, not quite understanding. "I believe I always shall."

Janeway smiled faintly. "I'm glad about that," she said. She drained the last of her coffee and sat the empty cup down on the low table. "That isn't quite what I meant, however. When so many people rely on you all the time, it can become difficult to live up to the expectations you've set for yourself. Sometimes I just want to ... give up."

"Is that why you came up with the idea to remain behind in the void?" Seven asked. "To give up?"

Janeway frowned, obviously thinking about it seriously. "I don't know," she said finally and now her tone was one of frustration. "It's really hard to understand what I was thinking at the time. In retrospect, I can only guess at what brought me to that point, and to be honest, I didn't want to think about it much once it was behind me."

Seven pursed her lips. "If you thought about it now, what would you conclude about your emotions at the time?" she asked.

Janeway tilted her head, thinking about it, her eyes grey. "I think," she said slowly, "that after five years of being lost, of seeking a way home, encountering the void ... that large expanse of emptiness with no end in sight ... made me feel like a complete and utter failure as a commanding officer. I truly believed the crew of Voyager would be better off without me." She dropped her eyes. "I believed you would be better off without me."

Seven considered that on a purely objective level, rather than an emotional one, deciding that was what Janeway required at the moment. "It was an incorrect assumption," Seven said calmly. "On both levels. I do not believe that we, or the ship, would have survived for as long as we have without your leadership."

An expression crossed Janeway's face, soft and vulnerable.

"I don't get to hear that much," she admitted quietly. "Though I suspect you're biased."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Not in this," she said as emphatically as possible. "I would not have followed anyone less than you, Kathryn. No one else could have forged such a diverse crew into one that functions so well." She paused, searching for the proper words. "I know that it is not just I who feels this way. Long before we were involved romantically, I spoke with many about you and your abilities ... other times, I merely listened while others spoke in places such as the messhall. The overwhelming opinion is that you are a formidable leader and one that could be served without hesitation." She took Janeway's hand in her own, studying the long fingers, the nails cut squarely. "I am sorry I have not told you this before. It did not occur to me that just as I function better when my abilities are commented favorably upon, so would you. I think we all believe on some level that you are absolutely confident, that you do not need any encouragement or appreciation and that was wrong."

Janeway smiled tremulously and squeezed Seven's hands.

"Thank you for telling me now," she said sincerely.

Seven leaned forward and kissed her gently.

"You are welcome."

0100 Hours

Janeway lay on her back on the couch, resting quietly as she regarded the stars passing by the hull windows. Though this had turned into something of an extended discussion, she discovered that it was actually helping her achieve a sort of perspective. It was most definitely an improvement over the long and dreary hours she had spent alone fighting her demons so many times before. She glanced over to where Seven was retrieving some refreshment from the replicator, bringing both glasses over as she joined the captain. Janeway rose to let Seven sit down, then settled back across the Borg's lap, accepting the wine glass and resting it on her stomach. She wondered what Seven was celebrating, noting the flute glass of champagne with mild surprise.

"Do you miss your parents?" she asked suddenly, in an idle tone.

Seven hesitated and Janeway looked at her, glancing sideways to study the narrow features. Finally, Seven shook her head.

"I do not believe I know how to answer that," she said as she sipped her drink thoughtfully. "I know that I bear a certain amount of resentment towards them for their arrogance in underestimating the Borg. Sometimes when I consider it, I feel very angry; that by making the choices they did, they deprived me of growing up Human. Yet, at the same time, I think about being with you and know that if they had not made the decisions they had, that if you had not made the decisions you did, if I had not been exactly where I was at that particular time, you and I would never have met."

Janeway took a mouthful of wine, rolling it around on her tongue before swallowing. "But do you ever miss them?" she insisted.

Seven looked at her. "No," she said finally. "Not really. When I went over the files that were recovered from the Raven, I was ... saddened at what I read, but I did not feel a sense of connection that would dictate that I should miss my parents now. I remember them only faintly, my father a little better than my mother, for some reason, though I am not entirely certain why."

Janeway nodded. "I miss my mother terribly," she admitted. "It seems I spent my whole life missing my dad, but I always felt like Mother was right there, so close all the time. It wasn't until Voyager was lost that I understood what not having her around meant." She rubbed her cheek lightly against Seven's chin. "I wish I could tell her."

"I am sure she is aware of your feelings," Seven offered gently.

"Oh darling, I hope so," Janeway said sorrowfully. "So many wasted opportunities. Annika, Promise me you'll never let an opportunity to tell someone how you feel go by. Before you know it, it's too late and you can't anymore."

"I promise," Seven said. She leaned forward and kissed Janeway on the temple. "I love you, Kathryn."

Janeway sighed. "Thank you," she said gently. "I love you too, darling. I wasn't thinking so much about us, however, I was thinking more along the lines of other people you care about that you might not always tell."

"Like B'Elanna?" Seven suggested. She nodded. "You are correct. I have been remiss in telling people like her and the Doctor how much their friendship has meant to me. I shall rectify that as soon as possible."

Janeway leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "Before we left DS9 for the Badlands, it had been six months since I had spoken directly to Mom, rather than over a comm channel. I kept meaning to but I just never seemed to have the time to take a trip to Indiana," she said regretfully. "I'm sure she knows I love her, but I wish with all my heart that I had told her that face to face." She paused and swallowed convulsively. "One of my biggest fears is that we will finally return home and ... it will be too late."

Seven considered that. Then she ran her finger gently along the line of Janeway's jaw. "Kathryn, she is only 68," she noted. "With the average human life span lasting almost 150 years, you will have many decades with her yet."

"I hope so, darling," Janeway whispered. She sipped her wine and nodded at Seven's glass, deliberately changing the subject. "What are you celebrating?"

Seven sighed. "I like the taste," she revealed. "Is it really that terrible to appreciate champagne merely for its flavorful properties?"

Janeway blinked. "I suppose not," she said doubtfully. "Just don't enjoy it too much. It's easy to overindulge with that stuff."

"I am aware of its side effects," Seven allowed. "I like how the bubbles tickle my nose."

"Ah," Janeway said, amusement stirring in her at that.

She settled against her partner, feeling a sort of easy detachment steal over her, the same sense of alertness that occured whenever she had been awake for a long time, as if her body was no longer a consideration in how she functioned. She knew that she should be exhausted and in fact, probably was. She had simply moved into the level beyond tiredness ... she could go days like this though the severity of the eventual crash, when it came, was directly proportional to how long and hard she pushed herself.

She was also very aware that she could be taken to bed with just a word in Seven's ear, probably in a glorious fashion at this point, but she discovered that she was enjoying this time with her spouse, that the manner in which they were talking about everything and anything was in its own way, extremely healing. She was still having difficulty with certain topics and kept veering away from them but the more they talked, the easier it was for her to delve into what was truly bothering her.

"Do you remember the first time you drank champagne?" she asked idly.

Seven nodded. "It was the day we first attempted to utilize the slipstream drive," she said. "There was a celebration."

"Premature as it turned out," Janeway reminded. "We should have tried the experiment on a few more shuttles before actually trying it with the ship."

"Yes," Seven allowed. "In any event, I did become slightly intoxicated,"

Janeway blinked. "I never knew that," she said. "I thought you told me your only time was on the L'Borna planet?"

After the incident on the morning of their wedding when the captain had been experiencing the most exquisite agony of a hangover, Janeway had wanted to know why Seven had been so brusque with her. When she had asked Seven if she had ever suffered the repercussions of being intoxicated, the Borg had been very enlightening. Now the captain realized her partner had not been annoyed with her, she had simply been treating her in the manner which she had been taught ... without any sympathy or empathy whatsoever.

We reap what we sow, Janeway noted to herself dryly.

"That was shore leave," Seven explained. "The ship experience was accidental, however, and the Doctor forestalled most of the effects with a medical detoxification."

"That was nice of him," Janeway said. She regarded the ruby depths of her wine. "The first time I got a little snookered was with the gang in a 'haunted house'."

Seven was silent for a moment. "I did not understand any of what you just said," she admitted finally.

Janeway chuckled. "I mean, I got intoxicated with a group of friends in a historical house which was supposed to be inhabited by the spirits of the people who had lived there in the past," she elaborated. "It wasn't, of course, but it made the evening more ... spicy."

"That was part of the experience?"

"It enhanced it, yes," Janeway allowed with a smile. She turned serious for a moment. "Do you feel you've missed out on anything, Annika?"

Seven tilted her head. "How so?" she asked.

"Our discussion about drinking and the L'Borna prompted me to reread my personal logs of that time," Janeway said slowly, feeling her way through the conversation. "I'm not sure if you were aware of this, but I was feeling pretty vulnerable at that time. I thought that you were being deprived of certain things by being involved with me. You're almost twenty years younger than I am, Annika. That can make a difference."

"Only if we let it," Seven pointed out placidly. She stroked the captain's hair gently. "I realized at the time that you felt our being involved romantically was somehow detrimental for me. I believed I had reassured you about that." She hesitated. "Of course, you would have forgotten that. Kathryn, being with you makes me complete. What my life might have been had I not been assimilated is unimportant. I simply do not wish to be anywhere else in the universe than where I am at this moment. Though you may believe that I have missed a good part of my life, I do not feel the same. I have experienced things in the Collective, witnessed natural phenomena, encountered situations that others in the crew would require several lifetimes to achieve." She hesitated. "Sometimes I feel you are too young for me. "

Janeway laughed, a startled bark at the unexpected humor. "I guess I'll just have to accept that perspective," Janeway said wryly.

"Yes," Seven said plainly. "It is an accurate representation."

Janeway was silent for a long moment. "When the call came in this morning," she said in a very small voice. "All I could think about was that you work in that area of the ship."

Seven regarded her closely. "The astrometrics lab sustained damage but there was no danger for me," she said carefully. "I had an appointment in sickbay for implant maintenance."

"I didn't know that at the time," Janeway said softly. "When I discovered that it wasn't you who had been hurt, all I could feel ... was this great sense of relief. The fact that two other crewmembers had been caught in the destruction was almost ... irrelevant."

She had surprised Seven she saw, and she wondered if she should have spoken so plainly but now that the words were out, it was as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She wondered if that was why she had been so desperate in her desire to save the men ... to make up for her previous distinction between the worth of almost everyone else's life and that of her partner's.

Janeway took a breath. "It shocked me," she added slowly. "I've come to realize that I would give up my command for you, my ship, my career ... even my life .. but I never knew until that second that I'd gladly trade someone else's life for yours."

Seven blinked. "Is that so unusual?" she asked. "You are the most important person in the universe to me. I believed ... I hoped ... I was the same for you."

"You are," Janeway said slowly. "From the time I was very young, however, I was taught to look beyond my own needs, my own desires, to serve the greater good. This is not how I normally think."

"It bothers you?" Seven asked keenly.

"It ... worries me," Janeway said finally, after thinking about it very hard. "A captain has to put her crew first, not her own ... self interest."

Seven considered that. "I do not believe it is the same thing," she said. "Kathryn, I love you. I know you love me. You should not feel guilty because you were relieved and happy I was not harmed. You have always wanted me to be Human. Yet, sometimes, I think you wish not to be Human yourself, that you wish to be as detached and as unfeeling as I was as a Borg. To be above all Human needs and desires and weaknesses. I have never understood that about you."

Janeway shook her head. "I don't understand it either," she admitted quietly. "I demand that you cherish your Humanity even as I despair of it in myself."

"What you must do is accept your Humanity," Seven said. "Embrace it, in fact."

Janeway smiled briefly. "That simple?"

"Yes," Seven said plainly.

Janeway took a sip of wine. "Maybe you're right," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe it is just that simple."

0200 Hours

Seven slowly drew her fingertips along the instep of Janeway's sole, gently pushing into the pressure points she had learned about in her research into foot massage. She glanced up at her partner who was lounging in the chair, a blissful expression on her face, her eyes closed as her head lay back on the cushion. Seven smiled faintly and slowly massaged the base before moving up to rub the top just below the toes. Kathryn had the most elegant toes, slim, long, acutely responsive to the Borg's touch. Seven knew she could put her partner to sleep doing this, or arouse her greatly with just an alternate form of stroking, but for tonight, she was content only to relax Janeway ... to try to ease those lines which had appeared at each corner of the captain's mouth, to make the shadows staining beneath those blue-grey eyes disappear.

She wondered if their discussion was helping. It did seem that Janeway's shoulders set a little easier beneath the thin grey pyjamas.

"Annika," Janeway asked, raising her head to look at her partner fondly.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven replied softly, using her thumb to press against certain areas of sensitivity in the captain's sole.

"Do you ever wonder why we fell in love?"

"The first time, or the second?" Seven asked.

"Either," Janeway said. "I don't mean, why were we attracted to each other. The traits I love about you are something I've told you many times. I mean, do you think we were destined to be together?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "The Borg have no concept of fate or destiny," she said.

"What do you believe?" Janeway insisted, not letting her off that easy.

Seven considered it seriously. "Do you know of the incident where we entered an alternate reality?" she asked. She realized it was unlikely the captain could remember the actual event but she hoped Janeway recollected the logs regarding that time, and she suspected Janeway understood that.

"The reality where my counterpart had managed to return Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant a year earlier?" Janeway responded, nodding. "That 'Janeway' never interfered in the Borg/Species 8472 war."

"Yes," Seven said. "Theoretically, that should have meant that Kathryn and Annika would never have met."

"But they did," Janeway said.

"Because in that reality, my counterpart was never assimilated," Seven said slowly. "Yet, of all the paths her fully Human life could have taken her, she ended up working on Borg transwarp coils in a science facility commanded by ... your counterpart." She looked at Janeway with an arched brow. "So it would seem that no matter what path our lives could take, they seem destined to intersect. Granted, that is a very limited scientific sampling of only two universes but it is still ... intriguing."

Janeway smiled faintly. "It is," she agreed. She was silent for a moment, clearly thinking about it. "I think I like the idea that no matter what, we would have met. Though whether we would fall in love is another aspect of it altogether."

"I believe that in that reality, our counterparts would have eventually reached an understanding," Seven noted.

"Only because of our interference," Janeway noted dryly, apparently remembering at least, her own effort to unite the couple.

Seven gazed at her evenly. "Perhaps that was destiny as well."

Janeway's smile widened and she wiggled her toes under Seven's fingertips. "Good point," she said. She pulled her legs away from Seven and sat up. "Let me do your feet now."

"I would prefer you scratch my back," Seven admitted honestly.

Janeway smiled. "Of course, my love," she said indulgently. She gestured with her chin toward the couch. "After you."

Seven uncoiled from the footstool and opened her robe, shrugging it off her shoulders as she lay face down on the sofa, but only after displacing Jake who seemed very disgruntled at being disturbed from his nap. Seven sighed as she felt Kathryn straddle her hips, the blunt edges of the captain's nails running over her spine and shoulders with delicious pressure, relaxing under the pleasurable strokes.

"Have you noticed how small these quarters have become?" she asked after several long moments where she wallowed in the most absolute sybaritic delight.

"Definitely," Janeway responded dryly. "But what other choice do we have? Get rid of Jake?"

"We could move back to 'my place'," Seven suggested. "Sectioning off a certain amount of cargo bay two is an option that would grant us more area. I believe that if we utilize levels, expanding upward, we could create very spacious living quarters."

She listened to Janeway breathe in the silence that followed that suggestion, the soft skritching of fingernails over Seven's back a soothing sound as the captain took her time to seriously consider the idea. "It's too far away from the bridge," Kathryn decided finally. "Besides, it has no windows and there is always the fact that it would not be good for crew morale for us to expand when they can't."

Seven thought about it. "You are correct," she allowed, a little disappointed. She had already been designing the structure of the new living abode in her mind. She thought about what else Kathryn had said. "Do you think others also wish to expand?"

"Oh, darling, I know they do," Janeway said and Seven was disturbed to hear the sadness return to the tone.

She turned, rose to her elbows, looking over her shoulder at the captain. "Explain," she requested.

Janeway sighed and got off Seven who sat up, pulling her robe back on. The couple sat side by side on the couch, and the captain propped her feet up on the coffee table. "Annika, we're not the only married couple on the ship, you know," she said quietly. "Nor are we the only couple who have discussed children. More than a few have come to me requesting permission to have a family, and I've had to refuse. Voyager simply cannot support the facilities that a group of children would require."

Seven blinked. "I did not realize that," she said slowly.

"I doubt many people have," the captain said. "It was handled discreetly and so far, the couples in question have agreed." She paused. "I have no idea what will happen when a couple simply refuses to allow me to dictate what is essentially a basic human biological need ... to reproduce and grow. Then, some very hard decisions will have to be made on both sides. I do not look forward to it."

Seven tried to understand all the ramifications of what her partner had just said, and not for the first time, gained some vague sense of the pressure Janeway was constantly under. Not much wonder she occasionally fell to depression and self-doubt; in a way, it was amazing that she was not always locked away in her ready room. Once again, Seven was profoundly moved and astounded at the strength contained in that compact, seemingly fragile human form.

"Can I do anything to help?" she asked softly. "Could we utilize cargo bay two for the sort of facilities you're talking about?"

Janeway smiled faintly and shook her head. "If it becomes clear that we're not going to make it home anytime soon, then yes, I will consider that," she said. "With the slipstream drive offering a very good chance at getting back in the next couple of years, however, I think I'll stand by the idea of keeping Voyager an adult ship only ... other than Naomi, of course."

Seven took a breath. "I wonder if those people feel as bad about being unable to have children as I do," she said softly.

Janeway reached over and entwined her fingers with that of her partner. "I'm sure they do," she said gently. "However, like us, once we return home, children will become a very real option. Until then, we continue on."

Seven squeezed the hand carefully. "Are you still willing to bear our children?" she asked.

A tiny grin quirked the captain's mouth. "I am, darling," she said. "Though I suspect that I shall not be terribly gracious doing so. In fact, there may be times when I'll probably be noticeably cranky on occasion."

"That would differ from how you are when not pregnant in what way?" Seven asked innocently.

Janeway poked her in the side and laughed. "Touche," she said. "But let's see how gracious you are having to get up in the middle of the night to change dirty diapers."

Seven stared at her blankly. "'Diapers'?" she echoed.

Janeway laughed again. "Somehow, darling, I don't believe your research is as extensive as you think it is," she noted. "In fact, it's damned selective at times. Instead of just studying the bio-genetic aspects of producing offspring, you should start looking at the care and feeding of them afterward. They'll make taking care of Jake seem like a breeze." She paused. "I also think you'll have a better understanding of why Voyager is not a good place to raise a child."

"Ensign Wildman is raising her child here," Seven objected. "Naomi seems healthy and happy."

Janeway nodded. "Because of necessity," she pointed out. "Not by choice. Samantha had conceived before we left the Alpha Quadrant. Darling, if she had known she was going to be lost for five years, I sincerely doubt she would have even considered the thought of bringing a child into it."

Seven nodded. "Understood," she said, making a mental note to extend her research parameters. She always managed to gather extensive knowledge during her forays into the ship's databanks, but sometimes she did not always know what lines to pursue exactly. Until she ran into it in a conversation such as this one, she did not realize where she was lacking.

"Do you ever wonder what happens with the people we encounter on our journey?" Seven asked idly as she slipped her right arm around Janeway, the captain settling against her in the warm, comfortable way she had.

Janeway's lips twitched as she smiled briefly. "Sometimes," she said. "Most of the time, however, I have my hands full worrying about the people on the ship."

"What about beings like the Ocampa?" Seven asked carefully.

Janeway inhaled slowly. "Ah," she said. She looked thoughtful. "We bought them five years," she said. "For a species whose life span is only nine years, that might have been enough for them to prepare for having to leave their sanctuary." She hesitated. "I'm not sure if the decision I made those years ago really made any real difference."

"It did," Seven assured her. "If not for them, then certainly for a great many people in the Delta Quadrant. Just in the short time I have been with Voyager, I have seen that." She studied Janeway's hand held so gently in her own. "You truly miss Kes, don't you?"

"I do," Janeway said. "She was very dear to me, Annika. A good friend and an exceptional person."

"Did you love her?" Seven asked.

"Very much so," Janeway said. She tilted her head slightly. "Not the way you might think ... there was nothing physical there."

"I was not suggesting that," Seven said gently. "She had a great effect on people such as Tuvok, Neelix and the Doctor ... I was merely curious. I never really knew her."

Janeway glanced over at her, eyes soft. "I think," she said slowly. "You and she would have become great friends." She smiled with bittersweet regret. "You did miss out in that case."

"She is not dead," Seven offered. "Perhaps we shall encounter her again."

Janeway seemed cheered by that suggestion. "Perhaps we will," she said. She squeezed Seven's left hand gently, studying the Borg mesh with idle interest. "What about you? Have you encountered anyone that you think about now?"

Seven thought about all the various beings that she had come in contact with the past couple of years. Beings both hostile and friendly, species which were quickly forgotten and others who lingered in her mind long after the fact.

"Tazna Jade," Seven said finally, with a touch of mischievousness. "She was very much like you in a great many ways."

"Only better," Janeway said, a bit sourly. Seven did not think the captain really remembered the Confederation First from the Beta Quadrant but the Borg knew the captain's personal logs had been quite pointed in their opinion of the silver-haired female who had made an intensive romantic play for Seven. It was the first time either of the couple had realized how very jealous Janeway could be.

"No," Seven said gently. "Merely as formidable. I think if I had not been a factor, you and she would have been good friends as well."

"Perhaps," Janeway said in such a noncommittal tone that Seven glanced at her, a faint smile touching her full lips. "Or perhaps not. Anyone else?"

"I think of Gretchen and Phoebe all the time," Seven admitted quietly. "I am gratified that I had the chance to know them, yet, at the same time, it has given me a longing to be in the Alpha Quadrant that I believe would be easier to function without."

Janeway snuggled closer to Seven, her head falling back to rest on the Borg's shoulder. "It might be easier to not feel the sense of loneliness and distance," she agreed. "But darling, that sense of home is all that gets me through sometimes, the need to make it back to see them."

"I understand," Seven agreed. She hesitated, resting her cheek on top of the soft auburn hair. "I particularly miss Phoebe. She is very ... enthusiastic."

Janeway smiled. "How so?" she asked.

"Whatever she is concentrating on at the moment, she gives her whole attention to it," Seven tried to explain. "She grabs life as Jake grabs his food."

The captain blinked and glanced back at her, turning her head. "Nice simile," she complimented. "Phoebe has always been a wild spirit. Sometimes I've felt very envious of that trait in her. It seemed as if she always garnered the greater amount of attention from our parents, and was granted a freedom from discipline that I wasn't."

Seven frowned. "You ... disliked her?" she said. She was very uncomfortable with that thought.

Janeway shook her head. "No darling, I love her," she said, seeming to realize that she had confused her partner. "However, I am honest enough with myself to realize that I was jealous of her, and it was completely of my own doing. I always tried so hard to be perfect, to be better than those around me."

"That is an admirable goal," Seven noted. "The pursuit of perfection is one I have followed most of my existence."

"When that pursuit leaves you empty, however, when it prevents you from being happy, what then?" Janeway asked.

Seven considered that. "I understand," she allowed. "Being in love, caring for another, could be considered a flaw. It opens one up to be harmed in a way that nothing else can."

"It does," Janeway said. "As for the rest, I was so intent on trying to make my father proud, I never realized he already was. I tried so hard to be the best, that I hurt other people, including Phoebe, in that relentless pursuit. I was so self absorbed in being a complete Starfleet officer, I missed out on telling people I loved them, like my mother."

"It is similar to the Borg," Seven said thoughtfully. "Your goal of absolute perfection did not allow for emotion."

Janeway was silent for a moment. "Yes," she allowed. "Like the Borg. I hate to admit that, darling, but I think you're right, there. I have been so arrogant, Annika."

"Perhaps that is one aspect of your personality," Seven said, pulling Janeway closer to her. "But only a small part." She kissed her partner gently on her forehead. "I think that you have spent this evening going over your short-comings, Kathryn. Perhaps it is time we concentrate on what you really are; a wonderful, amazing, incredibly strong, competent and compassionate woman ... and the person I love completely."

"I know my strengths," Janeway said dryly, though it seemed she was pleased at the words, a faint blush touching her features. "As well as my weaknesses."

"As a Starfleet officer, perhaps," Seven said. "But as an individual? As a Human? I do not believe you understand what truly makes you strong."

"And you do," Janeway said wryly, a faint smile edging her lips.

"Of course," Seven replied evenly. "You care about others. That does not mean you are not occasionally abrupt or rude or even harsh, but at your core, at the center of all you are, you care more for others than for yourself. You believed in a Borg drone when many others in the crew, others who could be considered 'kinder' than you, would have gladly left me behind with the Collective. You liberated that drone not once, but twice. You have allowed a refugee Talaxian from the Delta Quadrant his pride, and made a place for him in your crew as a fully functional participant. You accepted a hologram as your chief medical officer, and granted him an official acknowledgment of his sentience."

"I had help with that," Janeway pointed out. "I had my own set of biases."

"Yes," Seven agreed. "However, you were strong enough to put them aside and help the Doctor when he needed you ... more than once. You call Voyager a family, Kathryn. It is, but only because you have made it that way, and only because you were strong enough to hold it all together. I believe that if you can be measured as a person, it is not by what you have done in terms of scientific, militaristic or even in command accomplishments. It is measured by the people whose existence is richer by your touching of their lives, not by being responsible for them, but by simply caring for them."

She glanced down at her partner and saw tears caught on the fine lashes, the hard swallow of the elegant throat. "You have become quite eloquent," Janeway said finally in a very husky voice.

"Another thing I owe to you," Seven said. "As I owe you everything else. You have given me my life, Kathryn."

"You have given me myself."

0300 Hours

Janeway rested her head on Seven's lap as they reclined on the floor, the Borg's back supported by the base of the couch as once more, Jake had taken possession of the cushions. His snout was positioned next to Seven's neck and his breathing stirred the long blond hair occasionally. Janeway smiled faintly as she looked up at her partner, opening her mouth to accept the small bit of fruit Seven offered.

"And then," she added, mumbling around the grape in her mouth. "Tuvok made that logical report to the board of admirals about my lack of tactical training for my crew. I can't say as it was appreciation at first sight. He really outraged me, as a matter of fact."

"I'm sure he was aware of that," Seven noted with humor threading her tone. "You have never told me how you and he met before." She paused. "He admires you very much."

"Vulcans do not 'admire', darling," Janeway corrected gently.

"Admiration is an acceptable Vulcan trait," Seven said, unperturbed. "Otherwise, there would be nothing for a younger Vulcan to aspire to. It is 'envy' that is illogical."

Janeway felt warmth spread through her, both at the way Seven so casually refused to back down, which was very good for both of them, and because of what the young Borg had said about Tuvok's attitude towards his commanding officer. The captain was actually starting to feel much better, though she normally disdained anything that smacked of praise regarding herself, believing it self indulgent and irrelevant to the job. The truth was, however, she needed approval and appreciation as much as the next person ... perhaps even more so at times like this since she so rarely heard any in the normal scheme of things. Certainly, the approval of her father and her mentors at Starfleet had been a driving force in her early life and career.

"I admire Tuvok greatly as well," Janeway said. "I can't imagine how hard it has been for him to be away from his family."

"Yet, with the Vulcanoid life span averaging well of 250 years, he is better able to survive being lost in the Delta Quadrant," Seven said. "He is not even middle aged."

"He'll never get these years back," Janeway said softly. "He's already missed so much ... like the birth of his first grandchild." She hesitated. "There may be other things to be concerned about with him."

"Pon farr," Seven noted succinctly.

Janeway exhaled audibly. "So you know,"she said, feeling a sort of relief.

"I am not sure I completely understand all the ramifications," Seven allowed slowly. "However, I am aware that there is a possibility of him dying if he is unable to mate."

"It can be delayed," Janeway revealed, "both by drugs and meditation, but only to a point. Then, if he has not achieved a psychic bond of sorts..." She trailed off unhappily.

"I will mate with him," Seven said placidly. "We have mind melded before quite successfully."

Janeway forced down the immediate reaction that statement generated, taking a moment to formulate the right words. It would not do to overreact to what had been an honestly sincere desire on Seven's part to help someone the Borg respected so much. Clearly, while Seven knew pon farr was a time of mating, she was not conversant with all it implied. It was entirely possible that she believed Vulcans mated as they lived ... logically.

"Darling," Janeway said in a very gentle voice, "I'm sure if he knew of your most generous offer, he would be properly appreciative, though I think it would be a bad idea to suggest it to him. However, it's not merely a matter of a psychic bond similar to the one you've experienced before. In fact, this is far more than that. Vulcans, during this time, lose all control of their emotions which can be far more powerful than Human ones, and it is those emotions which would come through such a link. Then there is the physical aspect of it."

"'Physical'?" Seven frowned faintly.

"Vulcan mating at this time could be considered ... violent," Janeway explained. "The average female could be in trouble simply because Vulcans are naturally much stronger than Humans. From what I understand, there is a complete loss of discipline and composure at this time as well. That is why Vulcans have made this such a private and personal thing. They don't like outsiders to know of it." She reached up and touched Seven's cheek. "Darling, you had difficulty with a loving spouse with an 'accessory'. Tuvok would not wish to hurt you, but he would, perhaps quite badly, at such a time. It would be completely beyond his control."

Seven looked very disturbed at this revelation. "B'Elanna told me that she was able to help Vorik at his time," she said.

"She beat him up," Janeway noted dryly. "Also, Vorik was not bonded, Annika. Even if I had the gall to order someone to act in a similar manner, simply defeating Tuvok in a physical contest would not be sufficient. His psychic bond would require either mating or dying. Annika. Unless he can find a partner who is physically capable of withstanding the denser musculature, as well as one who can maintain a highly disciplined mental bond at the same time just as a Vulcan female does, he will perish. While you could possibly do one, you would be overwhelmed by the other, I think."

"Is there no hope?" Seven looked devastated.

"There is always hope," Janeway noted firmly. "I'm still figuring it out, darling. I'm not going to let him down."

"Would a hologram suffice?" Seven asked worriedly.

"It didn't for Vorik," Janeway said. "I sincerely doubt it would for Tuvok, even if we were able to rig some sort of neural connection." She stoked Seven's face. "Darling, try not to let this occupy you. I will find a way."

"I believe you," Seven said, but her eyes were very unhappy. "Still, perhaps B'Elanna or myself could assist in this."

Janeway smiled faintly, deliberately changing the subject and hoping Seven would not notice it ... or if she did, would allow it for now.

"I thought B'Elanna was interested in finding a female lover," she said.

Seven stared at her, a little furrow between her sandy brows. "She has mentioned that," she ventured slowly. She raised an eyebrow. "Do you have someone in mind?"

Janeway smiled and shook her head. "Her choice in the possible males on the ship who could make her happy were fairly limited," she said. "I think the possibilities are even smaller in Voyager's female population. In fact, the only two whom I think could be suitable for her, are already spoken for." She looked at Seven and smiled gently, indicating which two she was talking about. "In any event, I think she and Tom should reunite."

"That will never happen," Seven responded quickly ... and automatically. Her face smoothed out as she thought. "Perhaps Susan Nicoletti," she suggested. "She is also an engineering officer."

Janeway had quite a definite opinion on this whole topic, but it had diverted Seven's mind from Tuvok for the moment so she was determined to keep it going. "What about Ensign Wildman?" the captain offered casually.

Seven looked vaguely offended by the suggestion. "Neelix and she are ... together," she said, hesitating over the choice of words. The Talaxian and the married Starfleet Officer were not engaging in an affair, but there was no question that the pair had become very good friends here in the Delta Quadrant so far away from Deep Space 9 ... and Samantha's husband. "Besides, I do not believe B'Elanna is a good influence on children. That would not be good for Naomi."

"She certainly wasn't a good influence on you," Janeway agreed dryly.

Seven eyed her narrowly, then raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I was the one influencing her," she offered blandly.

Janeway chuckled. "Don't think that hadn't crossed my mind either," she admitted.

Seven regarded her with a faint smile. The two younger women, Borg and Klingon, once they became friends, had engaged in a certain amount of what had to be considered juvenile behavior, such as chasing each other through the ship while on duty as well as taking advantage of away missions to indulge in non-regulation behavior like drinking, carousing and fishing, while generally acting like two teenagers let loose from parental authority. Janeway had tolerated it for a certain period of time before bringing the hammer down on her chief engineer. She probably would have done the same to her partner, but the explosion had taken the memory of it completely away. Since that incident also had a distinctly maturing effect on the Borg, the need to discipline the young woman had disappeared, but Janeway wondered occasionally if Seven missed the rebellious side of herself.

"She and Lt. Kim may come to an understanding," Seven said thoughtfully.

Surprised, Janeway raised her eyebrow. "You noticed that too?" she queried.

"At our wedding?" Seven responded. "Yes, and B'Elanna seems to have forgiven him for defending Lt. James at her court martial. I believe, that once she got over being angry, she was impressed by how competently he had conducted himself."

"He really has come along the past two years," Janeway noted. "Perhaps it's time to promote him once more."

"Then he will be a rank above Mr. Paris," Seven noted. "Not necessarily damaging in itself, but how would Paris react to that on top of seeing Lt. Kim and B'Elanna together?"

Janeway took a breath. "I think you're probably correct there," she said. She eyed her partner thoughtfully. "Maybe I should put you in charge of personnel. You seem to know them better than Chakotay."

Seven blinked. Then frowned briefly as she noted the expression in the captain's eyes and nudged her. "You are being facetious," she accused. "You will never replace Chakotay as your first officer."

Janeway grinned unrepentantly back at her. "Love, you've gotten too quick for me," she said. "I can't tease you at all anymore."

"Not in that manner," Seven agreed. She offered the captain another grape and then, when Janeway refused it, having had her fill, she ate it herself, chewing slowly. "Do you think he was really in love with B'Elanna?" she asked finally, after swallowing.

Janeway pursed her lips. "I don't know, Annika," she admitted. "Chakotay isn't really in the habit of truly confiding in me ... not about  his most innermost feelings."

"I was very jealous of him once," Seven confided, and Janeway had a sudden flash of her partner confined to the brig, ignominiously perched on the stark bunk, the memory connected somehow to another fragment of her first officer, bruised and bloodied, being attended to in sickbay.

"I think I remember that," the captain said wryly. "You struck him."

"Yes," Seven said, an odd expression on her face, midway between happiness at Janeway remembering something of that time, and shame at what the memory was about. "I believed that you and he were ... copulating. I know now that was not the case, but it is what I thought at the time."

"So you belted him," Janeway said, her voice carefully without inflection.

Seven lowered her eyes, a blush touching her cheeks. "Only once," she said.

Despite herself, Janeway could not contain the grin. "I'm sure he's very grateful for that," she said. She paused, thinking. "Chakotay's been a good friend to me, and to you ... but for some reason, I'm not entirely sure he considers us to be the same type of friends."

"I believe he looks to you as a friend," Seven argued mildly.

"Perhaps," Janeway allowed. "But there's a piece of himself he never lets anyone close to. At one time, when he introduced me to my spirit guide, I think we were exploring it but ... after we were trapped on that planet together, he never again tried to share his mystical beliefs with me. Not on that level."

"Do you believe you did something on the planet that made him withdraw?" Seven asked with great interest.

Janeway shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know if we ever talked about it or if I'm only recognizing that distance he put between us now." They were silent for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts as they considered the brooding man that was Voyager's first officer.

"I do know  that Chakotay was able to use his beliefs to help Neelix after he ... 'died', however," the captain said finally.  "It may have kept Neelix from wasting the second chance you had given him."

"I do not believe I completely understand the Talaxian's reaction to being restored," Seven said slowly. "Neelix apologized later but he was quite angry with me for my actions ... for saving his life."

Janeway blinked. "Did I know that?" she asked. "I mean, I knew about his 'death' and your use of Borg nanoprobes to bring him back, but did you tell me about his anger?"

"Yes," Seven said. "It was part of my report which resulted in the policy you established afterward."

Janeway went very still. "What policy?" she asked.

"Where I was not to use the nanoprobes to 'bring people back to life'," Seven said. "I made my report to you, Commander Chakotay and the Doctor and you three made the decision." She hesitated. "Otherwise, I would have used them today to restore the two crewmembers who were killed."

Janeway sat up abruptly, staring at her partner. "Are you telling me you can bring those two back to life?" she asked sharply, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Yes,"Seven said with a touch of confusion. "But they are not Talaxian."

Janeway opened her mouth, then stopped, a sense that she was missing something here curbing her outrage and the words which might prove imprudent. "What difference does it make whether they're Talaxian or not?" she asked finally.

"It was discovered that Talaxians can eventually expel the nanoprobes," Seven explained. "The rest of the Humanoid species on Voyager cannot. If a Borg cube comes within a certain distance, the nanoprobes could be activated by just a transmitted signal. That was why you determined that for the good of the ship, any crewmember who was killed should not be restored utilizing this technology. It could possibly stock the crew with too many drones should we encounter the Borg again."

"Assimilating at a distance?" Janeway said, eyes wide as she absorbed this. Clearly this had been something that had been stored in the classified logs ... she still had to go through all those. Then another thought struck her. "Annika, we both have nanoprobes in us," she said with great concern. "So does Harry Kim."

Seven regarded her evenly. "Yes, we do," she said. "Because you and I have been assimilated in the past, it is very possible that we both could be activated by little more than a passing signal." She paused. "Chakotay is aware of this and certain protocols have been put in place to deal with that eventuality."

Janeway took a deep breath. "I think maybe I need to go back over all my encounters with the Borg," she said. "A little closer this time. I missed that one completely."

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," Seven said, her features distressed. "I do not know what needs to be brought to your attention until you indicate ignorance of it."

Janeway leaned over and patted Seven's arm. "It's all right, Annika," she said. "It's an ongoing process. We just have to adapt as we go." She tried to still her racing pulse, settling next to her partner against the couch, leaning into the lanky form. She stared into the greyness of the room. "I need to know more about what I have floating in my veins. Annika, do you think they make a difference in my physiology right now?"

Seven hesitated, looking at her oddly. "You would not have survived as long as you had in the Barellan prison had the nanoprobes not continually repaired your internal injuries from the beatings," she said slowly. "Do you not remember how quickly you recovered once I was able to get to you?"

Janeway looked at her, the saliva drying instantly in her mouth. "I thought that was the medicine," she husked.

"That helped combat the illness, the pneumonia," Seven pointed out. "The traumatic injuries, however, the ruptured organs, the punctured heart and lungs from rib breakage, the fractured skull, the damaged spine ... the nanoprobes repaired those."

"My god, Annika," Janeway said slowly. "Why didn't the Doctor tell me when I was in sickbay?"

"He did not realize it at first," Seven noted. "When you were debriefing the crew on what happened in the prison later, he became aware that the conditions you were describing should have been far more damaging to you. That is why he went back over your scans, and discovered the nanoprobe-repaired injuries. He requested that I study the data and make a projection on the nanoprobes efficiency on your system as opposed to mine."

"You should have told me," Janeway repeated, anger a strong force rising within her.

Seven reached out and put her hand on Janeway's shoulder comfortingly. "Kathryn, we thought you were aware of this. After all, you know better than anyone how badly you were beaten. Why did you not ask?"

Janeway forced herself to calm down, feeling the pulse throb in her temples. She wondered why she hadn't asked about the medical records, then realized that perhaps deep down, she hadn't wanted to. That she had already known on some level that she shouldn't have survived most of those beatings, and didn't really want to understand how she had been able to walk away from most of them. She had told herself originally that they hadn't been that bad, but now that she forced herself to recall that time, she remembered the sickening sensation of bones snapping under alien fists, of burning pain inside which would subside after a few hours. Even her wrist and ribs which had been broken when Seven reached her were already mostly healed by the time she was beamed up to Voyager only a day or so later. The heat of her anger suddenly went cold, and she swallowed hard, a bit dizzy at the implications as she felt Seven reaching over to embrace her, concern etching the Borg's narrow features.

"Kathryn," she said softly as she wrapped her arms around her. "Without them, you would have died, and I would have lost you. The nanoprobes saved you. They have frequently saved me. They are a tool, nothing more."

Janeway hugged her back, still trying to assimilate the knowledge that she had acquired a certain type of invulnerability, and what exactly it meant for the future. However, she also knew that this was something she should not try to deal with right at the moment.  Her partner needed reassurance and love; certainly not any indication of revulsion or horror on her part. Janeway brushed her lips over the Borg's chin.

"I know, darling," she promised gently. "After all, they're a part of you. I guess I should count myself fortunate they're a part of me."

Even if she had to look at her reflection in the mirror every morning to make sure a new implant hadn't erupted sometime during the previous night.

0400 Hours

Seven eyed her partner worriedly. She could tell that the news had rocked Janeway and she wished she could have come up with a different way of telling her. A kinder, gentler way. If only she could be sure of what Janeway knew and what she didn't. When she assumed Kathryn was ignorant of certain things, the captain would quickly reveal that she was fully cognizant of what Seven was referring to ... and look annoyed that Seven would presume she did not. Yet at other times, when Seven was certain Janeway would know what she was talking about, she would gradually become aware of the puzzlement in the blue-grey eyes and a sick sensation would fill her.

Sometimes it was more difficult than at others to deal with Janeway's memory loss. Though, Seven noted to herself, this was not a case of memory loss. This was more a case of the Doctor and the Borg making assumptions about what the captain was aware of.

Seven promised herself that she would not do that any longer. Even if Janeway grew short tempered when the Borg elaborated when it wasn't needed, she would still make sure Kathryn understood completely what she was saying ... at all times.

"Kathryn," she offered gently. "It is hard sometimes for me to know what you remember. I am sorry for that, and for making assumptions that I should not."

Janeway sighed and patted her hand. "It's not your fault, Annika," she said. "I know that my need to be in control causes me to make mistakes. This pride of mine sometimes forces me to pretend I'm a lot more comfortable with my loss of memory than I really am. I'm counting on you to stand your ground and not let me be so foolish from now on."

"I will comply," Seven said gravely. She glanced at Janeway in time to see her glancing back at her and was warmed when the captain smiled suddenly.

"Darling, I know I'm hard to put up with," Janeway offered in a wistful tone.

Seven put her arm around the slender shoulders, pulling the compact body close. "It is worth it," she said sincerely. She kissed her spouse gently on the temple. "I shall always do my best to look out for you, Kathryn."

Janeway was silent for a moment. "It won't be easy," she said finally, choosing her words with difficulty. "I will rarely be grateful, or even gracious about it, but you're the only one I can count on to do this.  You are the only one I can allow to take care of me."

'It is a duty I officially accepted with joy the day we were married," Seven whispered.  "Certainly, it is one I always assumed from the moment I fell in love with you."

Janeway hugged her tightly and kissed the Borg's cheek. "I love you, my darling," she murmured. "I really needed tonight. Thank you for staying up with me."

"Are you feeling any better?" Seven asked anxiously.

Janeway nodded. "Yes, I am," she said softly. "I still feel very bad about Wallace and Jona, but I realize it was a horrible tragedy that was no one's fault, nor could I have done anything to prevent it." She hesitated. "I'm not going to be upset that I was happy it wasn't you. Not any more. Every day I spend with you, I'm going to treat like a gift, precious and new. That doesn't mean that I can't care just as strongly for my crew as I always have, just that I have my priorities straight when it comes to our marriage.  I have to realize that some things must transcend duty and responsibility."

Seven was considerably surprised that they had managed to accomplish so much in such a short span of one evening ... she had anticipated this taking days just as Janeway's depressions did ... but she was certainly not going to argue with success. She would merely be glad, and appreciative of the relaxed way Janeway was now settling against her. Seven noticed that her partner did not seem very tired; instead Janeway seemed quietly energized, just as she would be on the bridge in the middle of a battle watch, or waiting for a spatial phenomena to develop after having pulled a double shift, drawing on some unseen pool of stamina and deeply internal resource which never failed to impress and amaze Seven. The Borg leaned over and nuzzled the captain's ear, kissing it gently.

"I am glad," she said. "I was concerned in the beginning that I would not be able to help you."

"You were an incredible help, my darling," Janeway told her. "You were also absolutely right; tonight has done me a world of good. I've never tried talking about the things that bother me with anyone before. I've always tried to handle them myself ... I guess I considered it a weakness to indicate I wasn't in control or that I might need something or someone. Now, at 43, I'm begining to think that just maybe, if I get old enough, I'll eventually become an adult rather than what I think an adult should be."

"I love you the way you are, Kathryn," Seven told her softly.  Janeway turned to her, an expression of pleased shyness crossing her features and Seven reached out, running her fingertips along the elegant cheek.  "So much," she added as she leaned over and kissed her gently; lovingly, slowly, trying to show her how much she cared, how much she completely adored her, attempting through this physical connection to convey what limited words seem to fail at so often.

It seemed that she had as they finally parted, and Janeway looked up at her with marvelous blue eyes which were filled with a glow of warmth and happiness. "Mmm, as much as I enjoyed talking with you, my darling," she said wryly, "I think I like these non-verbal communications far more."

Seven smiled slightly. "I believe I do as well," she said and kissed her again. "Do you want to go to bed?"

Janeway eyed her briefly. "Darling, it's too late to try to get any sleep before morning watch," she murmured, drawing her hand down Seven's cheek lovingly. "We'd only end up more tired than when we started." She paused and favored Seven with a sensual look. "But if you have something else in mind ..."

Seven brushed her lips over the captain's. "I do," she whispered.

"Hmm, you know what I'd really like?" Janeway said as Seven pulled her up from the floor, the Borg's hands grasping her wrists gently. "Let's have a shower first. I still feel grungy from yesterday and frankly, I'd hate to inflict that on you."

"I never mind how you are," Seven told her honestly. "However, I would not object to washing your back."

"I certainly wouldn't say no to such a charming offer," Janeway responded with a smile.

Holding hands, they wandered into the ensuite where Seven tugged at Kathryn's pyjama top, peeling it off over her head. The captain slipped out of the bottoms as Seven took off her robe, hanging it neatly on the hook. Kathryn programmed in a temperate shower, and together, they stepped under the warm sprays which erupted from the three separate jets. Seven appropriated a sponge from the compartment containing the shower supplies, retrieved some soap from the dispenser and began to lather her partner's back. She admired the elegant line of it, the defined spine that bisected the firm musculature as she drew the textured cloth firmly along the silky flesh, scrubbing the skin as Kathryn sighed with luxurious pleasure.

The captain was leaning against the wall, her palms flat against it, head bowed with her eyes closed, and Seven did not have to look to know Kathryn was smiling faintly. While the captain did not share Seven's adoration for having her back scratched, she did have a great fondness for having it washed, and the Borg was more than willing to accommodate her in this. Seven ran the cloth briskly up and down until the skin was pink, then let the warm water wash the suds away, the foamy, skin-moistening lather slipping down over the curve of buttocks, and down the back of the thinly muscled legs to the drain. Seven followed their path with an aesthetically appreciative eye, and acquired some more soap from the dispenser, trading the sponge for a softer cloth.

She began to lather the captain's arms and shoulders, enjoying how the heat and moisture made the skin seem to glisten with a warm glow, swirling the cloth over the flesh with a gentle motion that made the captain sigh once more as she straightened, throwing her head back. Seven moved closer to her, feeling the smaller body press wetly against her own as she increased the circumference of the circles, slipping down the slope of Kathryn's chest, moving over the firm little breasts, then down between them to the soft swell of abdomen. Seven could feel Kathryn's buttocks flex against her thighs, and she felt desire rise within her yet she did not become carnal with her task, did not linger overlong on those areas where she knew Kathryn was most erotically sensitive. Instead, she merely soaped the captain all over as Kathryn moved against her, then helped her rinse off, moving with her beneath the cascade of warm water.

Once she was finished, Kathryn turned to her, taking the washcloth from Seven's hand. "My turn," she said huskily, looking up at her with soft blue eyes.

Seven gladly relinquished her possession of the fabric and raised her head, closing her eyes as she felt her partner move over her with the same care and loving attention she had given her. Kathryn did not linger at those places which gave Seven the most pleasure either, but the Borg's nipples still hardened as the captain passed over them, still felt a sensual thrill thread through her as Kathryn gently drew the cloth between her legs.

It was a game, Seven decided. They were both aware that this was arousing, knew exactly how it was going to end but for now, they contented themselves with the simple indulgence of soap and water rather than directly address the anticipation which was rising between them. Seven smiled, her lips drawing freely back over her teeth as Kathryn tossed the cloth back on the rack.

"All done," the captain said softly. "Will you wash my hair?"

"Of course," Seven replied easily. She dispensed some shampoo into her cupped palm, waiting until Kathryn had fully immersed her head beneath the nearest spray, then moved behind her once more, plunging both hands into the auburn locks with a distinct sort of joyful abandon.

Kathryn murmured soft sounds of inarticulate pleasure as Seven thoroughly massaged her scalp with strong fingers, moving them over and through the soft strands of hair. It was a sharing on both their parts; one being indulged, the other enjoying the tactile sensation of hair and skin as she provided the indulgence. When Seven finally nudged Kathryn over to the nearest nozzle, rinsing the shampoo from her head, the captain was completely relaxed from the soothing stimuli. Once her hair lay slick and tight to her skull, Kathryn turned and drew Seven's head down, the taller woman having to bend as the captain reciprocated the gift her partner had bestowed.

Seven tremendously enjoyed the feel of the captain's fingers on her skull, the way the fingertips swirled and prodded, stroking through the long, blonde strands of fine hair. She was almost saddened when Janeway finally guided her beneath the spray to wash out the thick shampoo, leaving her hair draped over her neck and down her back like a golden hood.

The Borg blinked the droplets from her eyes and looked down into the face of her partner, loving her utterly, basking in the sensual embrace as Kathryn wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed her body full length against hers. Seven kissed her, tasting water and a trace of soap and the unique, delicious, wonderfully absorbing flavor of her partner.

"Do you want to stay here?" Seven murmured quietly when they parted, the spray splashing steadily over them. "Or shall we dry off and go to bed?"

"Oh dear," Kathryn replied in her deep, smokey trill. "Such a decision. Why don't you kiss me while I try to make up my mind?"

Seven smiled and did so, pulling the captain closer to her, Janeway sliding against her wantonly, her body a slippery, sleek heat in her arms. Seven cupped the firm buttocks, lifting the smaller woman into the air, unsurprised when Kathryn immediately wrapped her legs around the taller woman's hips, her center pressing against the Borg's belly. Seven eased them over to the bulkhead, resting the captain against the shower wall which helped the Borg steady her and bear her weight. Seven tried to figure out the logistics of this as she occupied Kathryn with kisses, long, slow, openly sensual, tasting and teasing her with loving passion. She delighted in the touch of the smaller woman's tongue against hers, the way the elegant hands moved over her shoulders and back as she slipped her left arm under Kathryn's buttocks so that the captain was completely supported by the Borg enhanced forearm.

Seven wormed her right hand between their bodies, covering the captain's breast, feeling the nipple jab into her palm and she squeezed the soft weight gently, enjoying the sensation of it against her hand.

Kathryn laughed throatily. "Can you manage this, love?" she murmured between the deep kisses. "I'm no lightweight."

"Just keep your legs around my waist," Seven instructed huskily.

"Will do," Kathryn muttered before kissing her again, and the Borg palmed the breast firmly, concentrating on not dropping her spouse.

Seven played with the slippery nipple, fondling it between her fingers, the soft flesh hardening into a firm little knot and she felt a viscous moisture against her belly that she knew was not due to the shower. She breathed deeply and tried to determine how long she could hold this position, then decided that the captain's response was such that she wouldn't have to maintain it for long if she could just get her hand into the proper place.

"Oh god, Annika," Kathryn breathed hotly in her ear as Seven managed to slip her fingers between the captain's legs, rubbing against the moist flesh, seeking out the tender ridge that made the captain lurch against her when she touched it. "That feels so good ... oh darling ... please don't stop..."

"I will not," Seven promised quietly, feeling her shoulder muscles tense, trembling slightly.

Seven shifted her weight a little and lifted Kathryn higher, allowing her two fingers to find the moist opening where they slipped easily inside. Kathryn made a sound, high pitched, a keen of pleasure and Seven felt the slick walls close around her fingers tightly. She pushed deeper, inciting another moan and she could feel herself start to weaken. She decided that Borg strength was brute rather than one of endurance and she knew she should finish this quickly. She curled her fingers upward, finding that smooth little place and managed to bring her thumb into play over the captain's nodule. Kathryn's response was immediate, jerking against her, her fingertips digging into Seven's back as she tried to hang on. The Borg was hard pressed to hold her in place as the spasms overtook the captain, and Seven winced as Kathryn's head abruptly thudded into the shower wall. Her lover did not seem to notice any discomfort, however, gasping as the sensation shook her, a long, drawnout groan of utter pleasure erupting from her throat as she clung to Seven desperately.

Then her thighs gradually slipped off the Borg's hips, sliding down to the floor along Seven's legs though the young woman still had to support her until the captain had managed to regain her bearings ... and her feet.

"Are you all right?" Seven whispered, holding her close.

"I'm seeing stars," Kathryn laughed shakily.

"That may be from the blow to your head," Seven noted with concern. "Shall I contact the Doctor?"

"Oh no," Kathryn objected, looking up at her with amusement. "He's been in this bathroom far too much lately. Besides," she added huskily. "They weren't those sort of stars."

"Ah," Seven said and smiled as she felt Kathryn's hands move over her body. "I think we should dry off," she suggested. "I sincerely doubt you can provide the same sort of positioning for me."

Kathryn nipped her earlobe. "There are other ways to pleasure you in the shower, my darling," she murmured. "But let's save them for another time. I agree, the bed sounds really good right now for what I want to do with you."

0500 Hours

Janeway brushed the towel lightly over the lean, golden form of her spouse, soaking up the droplets of water which slipped delightfully down the smooth, firm skin. She paused to press her lips against the warm bone of Seven's chest, kissing it gently. She was still feeling a bit weak from the shower, but wonderfully aroused, wanting nothing more than to take her partner to bed, and show her how much she utterly desired and wanted her.

She caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror over the sink and she paused briefly, admiring the trim, sinuous body of her partner before Seven chose to step around her, slipping her arms about the captain's waist, hugging her from behind. The Borg covered Janeway's breast with her left hand, chaffing the nipple with the flesh of her palm between the metal fibers of her manipulative implant and she kissed the captain's neck, nipping at it gently.

"Do you like what you see?" Seven asked with quiet humor as she caught Janeway's gaze in her own. She cupped the captain's breast as if offering it to her reflection, the silver mesh a marked contrast to the warm skin still flushed pink from the water and steam.

"Very much so," Janeway murmured throatily, reaching up to put her fingertips against the younger woman's cheek. She looked into her partner's eyes through the mirror, smiling as she saw the passion in the ice blue orbs, the arousal in her lover's level gaze. Then she gasped as she both saw and felt Seven's right hand slide down over her stomach, tangling in the rich auburn thatch of hair.

"I thought it was my turn," the captain protested huskily.

"Eventually," Seven promised and kissed her ear, running her tongue along the curve of it which made her lover purr.

Mesmerized, Janeway watched in the mirror as her lover dipped lower, the long fingers fondling her with tantalizing slowness, swallowing hard as she saw how they began to glisten from the wetness which only served to heighten her excitement, producing yet more moisture.

"Oh, heavens, Annika," she whispered, feeling the sensation shiver through her, her thighs trembling, her legs growing weak.

She moaned as Seven penetrated her, her eyes pinned on the fingers slipping into her, then withdrawing, beginning a slow steady thrusting, disappearing, then reappearing, more of their length being taken with every stroke and Janeway spread her legs wider, leaning back against her lover who she knew with absolute surety would support her. It was oddly stimulating; on one level being somewhat detached, watching this as if it were an illicit entertainment program on a viewscreen, yet at the same time, so intimately involved, the pleasure of those fingers very immediate, penetrating her, filling her.  She gasped, the delight spreading within her, and before very long, she felt the familiar surge go through her, her knees turning to jelly as she peaked, only the firm arm of Seven keeping her from totally collapsing on the floor.

She fought for breath as the Borg set her back on her feet, and the captain leaned forward, bracing herself weakly on the sink counter. Her left fingers fell naturally into the indentations that had been imprinted in the duranium alloy, though the depressions were a little larger, and suddenly the mystery of what they were exactly and how they had gotten there was suddenly solved.

She laughed huskily and glanced back at Seven who was stroking Janeway's back and spine with sensual fingertips. "I believe this is not the first time we have made love in front of this mirror," the captain said.

Seven followed her glance to the indentations and smiled faintly. "No," she said. "It is not. For some reason, I find it far more stimulating than when we had a mirror above our bed. Perhaps because that became commonplace as opposed to making love in here which is more rare."

"Are you saying we should be more adventurous in our love life?" Janeway asked, turning around to surrender willingly to the loving embrace.

"Merely something I have been researching since our honeymoon," Seven said softly and kissed her. "It is a fascinating topic."

"Oh god," Janeway said. She could not even begin to envision her partner on a quest to discover the perfect place and way to make love.

Though, she added thoughtfully to herself, it sure as hell will be fun to assist in the attempt.

She ran her hands lightly over the young woman's torso, stroking gently with her fingertips in the manner she knew Seven enjoyed. "Is it my turn yet?" she asked.

Seven's respiration had deepened, her eyes smoldering as she looked at Janeway. "I believe so," she agreed.

Janeway kissed her, lingering on the full mouth, tracing the bottom lip with her tongue. "Would you be terribly disappointed if I chose an old fashioned method?" she muttered playfully. "On your back, in the bed?"

"That would depend on what I would be doing on my back in the bed," Seven responded evenly as Janeway drew away, taking her hand to lead her into the bedroom. They terminated the lights as they left the ensuite, entering the dim illumination of starlight through the window above the bed's headboard.

"Smiling," Janeway promised huskily, drawing down the rumpled blankets to leave the crisp, Starfleet issued linens exposed.

"Then I shall be glad to lie on my back in the bed," Seven replied promptly, crawling onto the queen-sized mattress, plumping up the pillows and arranging them so she could recline against them.

Janeway watched, a wry grin on her face, her hands on her hips as Seven made all her preparations. "Are you done?" she asked finally.

Seven blinked at her, lounging on her elbows. "Yes," she said.

"Are you sure?" Janeway said. "I wouldn't want to rush you."

"Come here," Seven demanded in an imperious tone, raising her chin arrogantly.

Janeway laughed and let her partner catch her hand, drawing her down onto the bed where she wrapped her arms around the lanky torso, finding the full lips and kissing her passionately. Then they rolled over and Janeway felt herself being pressed back against the mattress, Seven pinning her as she began kissing her way down the captain's body.

"Hey," Janeway objected. "It's supposed to be my turn." Though it was hard to protest as she felt that wonderful mouth on her breasts, nibbling and licking her nipples, then trailing down over her belly where the hot breath stirred the thin hair on her pelvis, making her quiver.

Obligingly, Seven turned around.

Janeway raised an eyebrow as she helped Seven position her knees on either side of her head. "So this is the way you prefer?" she asked. "Not on your back?"

"This is much better," Seven said and lowered her face between the captain's legs.

Kathryn gasped as she felt the mobile lips and skilled tongue seek out her intimate flesh, Seven's breasts pressing down on her stomach with delicious pressure. A pressure which could get remarkably heavy remarkably quickly if Seven forgot where she was; something she did whenever they pleasured each other in this manner.

"Wait," Janeway instructed. "Roll over."

Seconds later, Janeway was looking down at the blonde thatch, keenly aware that Seven had managed the entire maneuver without ever losing contact with her mouth. The captain caught her breath, arching as her lover tasted her, consuming her with avid appetite.

"You never wait for me when we do this," Janeway complained mildly, and put her hands on the inside of Seven's thighs, parting them to reveal the intimate flesh of her lover. She smiled briefly as she lowered her face to where Seven waited; warm, wet, and very willing.

Not to mention, exceptionally ready. Apparently all the action in the shower as well as in front of the ensuite mirror had aroused the young woman to a fever pitch, and she climaxed within seconds of Kathryn putting her tongue to the hard little nodule. Janeway drove her partner through it and continued on, using her lips to draw out the Borg's pleasure, and begin the ascent once more. The sensation of Seven's mouth on her was wonderful, but Janeway's edge had been dulled earlier and she was easily able to stave off the rising passion to send her lover over the edge one more time. Then once more Janeway started to pleasure her lover, slower, hotter, bringing her fingers to dip into the wet heat, then further down to circle insistently at the puckered opening as she swirled her tongue over Seven, knowing how much her lover liked this.

Seven tore her mouth away from Janeway, crying out briefly. "Oh, Kathryn," she moaned, arching as the captain tenderly prodded this most intimate of places.

"Join me, darling," Janeway murmured, drawing her mouth away briefly. "Let's try to make it together."

Immediately the captain felt the lovely mouth return to her once more, and she allowed the sensation rippling through her free rein this time, feeling the chills shiver through her even as she eased her fingertip into Seven so very gently, sliding two more into the opening above as she sucked tenderly at the nubbin, gauging the rising pleasure in her lover, trying to match it with her own. It was not easy to time this right, but the attempt was immensely gratifying in itself, and she shuddered as she felt Seven start to pulse around her fingers, her own desire sweeping her up, the ripples spreading through her from the sweet connection of Seven's lips. Somehow, they both managed to stay with it despite the astounding sensation which shook them, then Janeway was collapsing on Seven, breathing heavily, the young woman's unique flavor like a benediction upon her lips.

They lay for a moment, hugging each other tightly, then Seven moved out from beneath Janeway, pulling up the bedding as she turned, wrapping it around the both of them where they settled into the center of the bed, curled up in lazy happiness.

"Annika, my heart," she whispered as she felt Seven nuzzle her ear and she sought out her partner's lips, kissing her deeply, tasting her own flavor on her lover's mouth. She moaned softly, snuggling into the strong arms of her spouse. "You were absolutely wonderful."

Seven kissed her again. "No more than you," she replied. "Are you tired?"

"Mmm," Janeway murmured. "A little. What time is it?"

"Time enough for a nap," Seven said softly, persuasively. Janeway had a brief suspicion that there was something wrong with that, but she had lost track of the passing hours much earlier and she relaxed gratefully in the warmth of the tender embrace.

"Wake me at 0600," she whispered, feeling sleep creep over her irresistibly

Seven brushed her lips over her forehead. "Sleep, Kathryn," she said commandingly. "I will be here for you."

Janeway smiled. "You always are, my darling," she said softly and let herself drift off, safe and secure in the loving arms.

"You always are."

0600 Hours (Dawn)

There was a small control panel set near the head of the bed on the wall just over the night stand which could be used to manually override commands which would otherwise be given verbally. Seven carefully reached up and touched it, disabling the computer wake up call.  Then she sent a priority memo to the bridge that she and the captain would be unavailable for the rest of the day. She knew that the crew would suspect that Janeway was 'hiding' because of the previous days events so as not to impose her bad mood on them ... for which they would be suitably grateful. She, on the other hand, would be content that her spouse would be getting some much needed rest, and if Kathryn was angry at her afterward ... well, that was part and parcel of being married to her. Seven would find a way to explain it so that the captain understood her getting some sleep was the best thing for the ship.

She would take care of Kathryn. The captain's resistance to that idea was ... futile.

Seven smiled faintly as she looked down at the relaxed planes of her lover's features, the lines smoothed out, the shadows of stress gone, the strain of the past erased, granting harmony and an aching youthfulness to a face which all too often had to restrict itself to an impassive command mask. The whisper of Kathryn's breath from the elegantly sculpted nose was steady and regular, brushing over Seven's chest where the captain's head lay. Janeway's eyelids were still, no dreams plaguing her sleep and just a trace of a smile curved the wine shaded lips. The auburn hair fell soft across the smooth forehead, spreading around her head like an aura, her right hand, curled slightly, resting next to her face, just above Seven's heart.

Kathryn had managed to construct a sort of balance within herself finally and Seven was satisfied with the knowledge that she had been instrumental in helping her beloved with that difficult task. Carefully, she drew the compact body closer and closed her eyes, the last thing in her vision being the soothing and wonderful sight of her partner resting comfortably.

For now, at complete peace with herself and the universe.

The End

•  This is the 16th in the Just Between series.  Please read the accompanying note at the end if you wish to understand some of the reasoning for writing this story.

• This was posted the last part of March, 1999 as Voyager was moving into the latter part of the fifth season.

Just Between Futures
G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and currently Astrometrics Officer for USS Voyager, blinked in the glare of the red-orange sun shining down on the colorful and noisy festival. The immediate area was thronged with people, including several of her fellow crewmembers who were enjoying the last rotation of shore leave before having to leave this particular planet. The young woman found herself buffeted by the sounds, sights and smells, wondering how anyone managed to navigate through the crowds. She was forced to stop abruptly as several small offspring of the Cirrellian inhabitants darted through the crowd, barely avoiding a collision with her. Her companion was apparently not as agile.

"Oof." B'Elanna Torres let out her breath in a huff, stumbling back as she rebounded off the tall slender blond. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I did not wish to collide with the children," Seven responded evenly.

"Well, give a little more warning next time," the Klingon woman grumbled, rubbing her chest which had impacted with Seven's elbows. Shorter, more compact than the curvaceous Seven, the chief engineer shaded her dark eyes with her hand, trying to peer over the crowd. "Can you see a tavern?"

"Not as yet," Seven said, stifling a sigh. She wished to investigate the more colorful booths and displays provided by the planet's culture as they celebrated the Festival of Future, but it was clear B'Elanna was still intent on finding an establishment where she could sit down and enjoy a 'cold one'. Of course, the Borg could leave B'Elanna behind and go her own way, but she had agreed to spend shore leave with her friend in the absence of her partner. In addition, she was still not entirely comfortable at the idea of being on her own in a large group of strangers.

Her eye was caught by a flash of reddish hair and for a split second, she thought she recognized Voyager's captain, Kathryn Janeway. It turned out to be someone else entirely, however, and she sighed again. Seven knew it was not likely that Janeway would be out of her meetings with the local merchants so soon, where the captain was negotiating for various supplies that the ship needed. Though Janeway had offered a tentative hope that she might be able to spend some shore leave with Seven, it was not something either of them could expect.

Seven was surprised to find that despite the fact she and Kathryn had been married for a couple of months, she still wanted to be with her spouse almost all the time, still wanted to spend every spare moment with her, still wanted to simply be in her presence ... contrary to all B'Elanna's predictions that once one had married, all the 'magic' was lost. The Borg wondered if she should have asked to go with Kathryn. Even if she couldn't offer anything to the bargaining sessions, it would have been sufficient for her to merely sit quietly nearby and watch as the captain negotiated with the aliens who had been so accommodating to the lost Federation vessel.

"I think I see one," B'Elanna said suddenly, poking Seven in the ribs. "Over there. Come on."

Seven had little recourse but to follow as the dark haired woman began bulling her way through the seething mass of celebrants toward a structure. However, once they had gotten closer, Seven was amused to realize it was another of the many nutritional suppliers that dotted the fair grounds. Previous encounters had taught them that while the food was good if slightly bland, the restaurants did not provide fermented beverages. They had been informed that they would have to go to a specialized establishment for that, though the subsequent directions provided were much less precise and helpful.

As B'Elanna cursed, Seven drifted over to a nearby booth where a Cirrilean was offering the opportunity to acquire certain items in exchange for throwing projectiles. The Borg's attention was caught by a bright blue furry animal which was sitting on a stool, restrained by a leash attached to a small bejeweled collar. It was a tiny thing, with big dark eyes and tufts of silver on the oversized ears, and the young woman wondered if Naomi Wildman would like such a thing. In recent months, more and more of the animal lovers in the crew had requested time with the captain's Irish Setter, Jake, and in the interest of fairness, Janeway had agreed to set up a rotating schedule so that all those who wished could spend time with the dog.

That meant however, that the ship's only child who had been the pup's full time playmate had lost out.  Seven decided that a replacement of sorts would be perfect, allowing the child to have her own pet rather than having to share with everyone else, but until now, she had not found any likely candidates.  She knew that currently, the five year old was somewhere on the grounds with her mother, Ensign Samantha Wildman, and the vessel's resident Delta Quadrant native, Neelix. She thought that Naomi would greatly enjoy this surprise, particularly since her birthday was to occur within a few weeks. Seven had a great fondness for birthdays and their accompanying rituals.

"How much for the animal?" she asked the booth attendant.

"Seven, what are you doing?" B'Elanna asked as she joined her, a frown creasing her face.

"I am inquiring as to the purchase price of the creature," Seven informed her and turned back to the proprietor as she dug into her stash of local currency which had been provided by the ship prior to their beaming down.

"Seven, you can't take a biological entity onto the ship without authorization," B'Elanna protested. "It's against regulations."

Seven regarded her. "You are correct," she said, slightly embarrassed at having forgotten that in her enthusiasm to find a gift for Naomi. She drew out her tricorder and thoroughly scanned the creature, determining that it was not harmful to Humans ... or Katarians ... and would in turn, not be harmed by their environment. "It is compatible."

"You brought a tricorder on shore leave?" B'Elanna said with disbelief as she eyed the creature narrowly. "Why do you want this thing, anyway?"

"A pet for Naomi," Seven explained. "It is to be her birthday present."

B'Elanna regarded her as if she had lost her mind. "Seven, you don't even know if it is a pet," she said. "It could be their version of a ... a penguin, just some sort of oddity to show off."

Since Seven did not know what a penguin was, she ignored the engineer. "Tell me about the creature," she demanded.

The proprietor, who had been listening to the conversation keenly as well as greedily eyeing the handful of coins the Borg had pulled out of her pouch, grinned widely, revealing a mouth full of slightly pointed teeth. "It's called a B'Rethna," he said, his solid brown eyes glinting in the sunlight. "They do make lovely pets, especially for children. They are gentle, kind, loving, amazingly loyal to whomever bonds with it." Abruptly, he looked sad. "However, that one is not for sale."

Seven blinked. "No?" she said with disappointment. "You have bonded with it?" She wasn't exactly sure what bonding was, but it did sound like something permanent between the pet and the master.

"No, it's not bonded," he said. "But you can't buy it. You can only win it."

"Win it?" Seven echoed.

Beside her, B'Elanna looked disgusted. "It's a scam, Seven," she said.

The Cirrilean frowned at the engineer, lifting his head to toss back the lock of orange hair from his ridged forehead. "This is an honest game of chance," he said with wounded dignity before smiling at Seven charmingly. "Three balls for ten lenthra. Get one through the opening and the little one is yours."

"Ten lenthra?!?" B'Elanna yelped. "That's more than our whole meal."

"Surely the smile of a child is worth that," the Cirrilean said encouragingly.

Since Seven had no sense of commercial exchange, nor particularly cared, she was in complete agreement. "I will proceed," she said, counting out the required currency.

"Seven, the captain isn't going to let you take that thing on board," B'Elanna tried again.

Seven glanced at her. "I will explain it to her so that she will," she said with utter conviction. "It is not harmful." She paused, aware that B'Elanna, for all her bluster, had also developed a bit of a soft spot for the ship's only child. "It is difficult for Naomi to be so alone all the time. She requires someone or something to play with when the adults around her must be on duty."

B'Elanna glared darkly at her. "Fine," she said finally. "If you can win it and convince the captain to allow you to keep it, then I'll authorize it as your department head for it to be taken on board." It was apparent she didn't think Seven would be able to accomplish either.

Seven picked up the projectile the Cirrilean handed her and eyed the opening judiciously. She was vaguely aware of a crowd having gathered to watch, but she ignored them as her optical implant which framed her left eye analyzed the openings on the board at the far end of the structure, hefting the sphere gingerly in her right hand. She determined that none of the openings were quite large enough to allow the ball to pass through cleanly, though it was a very subtle difference in comparative sizes. She decided it was an error on the part of the manufacturers and she switched the projectile to her left hand. With unerring accuracy and Borg strength, she drilled the projectile at the opening in the center, the ball barely squeezing through ... though it had to widen the aperture by a slight margin in doing so.

"Oh, Kahless on a crutch," B'Elanna mumbled as Seven retrieved the creature from the shocked and astonished proprietor who could not object, particularly since the surrounding crowd which had been observing this with great interest, greeted the winning of the prize with loud glee and cheers at the Borg's prowess.

"The captain is not gonna like this," B'Elanna told her as they moved away. "We're supposed to stay out of trouble. In fact, that's the last thing she said to us before we beamed down."

"I remember," Seven responded. "However, acquiring the animal was no trouble. The ball was only slightly larger than the opening." She examined the creature intently, holding it up before her face. It regarded her back with wide gentle eyes. "It is very attractive."

B'Elanna eyed it briefly. "It is cute," she agreed grudgingly. "I suppose Naomi will just love it, but what the hell are you going to feed it until her birthday?"

"I'm sure we can utilize the ship's sensors to determine its nutritional requirements," Seven remarked. She turned her head as she spotted what she decided was an establishment that provided fermented beverages. "There is your 'tavern'," she added.

"About time," B'Elanna said and barreled through the crowd.

However, the pair were stopped at the door. "No pets," the large individual growled, a massive arm barring the door.

Originally, Seven thought that B'Elanna was going to punch him, but the respective size of the being who towered over Seven. who in her heels, reached almost six feet tall, must have given the engineer pause. Though, Seven reconsidered, it was entirely possible the real reason for the hesitation was that the Klingon simply didn't want to beat up the bouncer and end up being barred from entering anyway.

"I shall wait out here," Seven said, forestalling the argument as she nodded at the bench which was positioned just outside the entrance, beneath the shade of a nearby tree.

B'Elanna bit off a curse. Then she regarded Seven anxiously. "I'll only have one," she promised.

"I will wait," Seven told her and sat down patiently.

She quirked an eyebrow as B'Elanna cast her a final apologetic look before disappearing into the building and leaned back onto the hard bench. The creature had apparently decided that the Borg was not harmful and settled onto her lap, curling up into a small mound. Seven discovered that when she stroked the silky blue fur on its back, it vibrated pleasantly, giving off a faint hum ... rather like the sound the captain made when Seven kissed along the line of her throat. It was warm and soothing, and she decided she liked it a great deal.

She smiled faintly and looked up, observing the crowd with a detached interest, a sort of scientific curiosity which sharpened immeasurably when she spotted the Human across the street. The thin woman dressed in a long skirt and colorful shawl was not off Voyager, which made her out of place indeed. The only Humans in the Delta Quadrant, not counting those which had been assimilated by the Borg, were the ones brought here by entities known as Caretakers. Seven knew the captain was interested in such mysteries, and she stared keenly at the woman who was perusing the wares which were displayed in the window of a shop.

The woman seemed to sense the scrutiny and looked back at Seven, her large green eyes capturing the Borg with the intensity of their gaze. Seven's whole world shifted abruptly and became very small, completely centered on those eyes.

When B'Elanna Torres exited the tavern ten minutes later, the only thing she found on the bench was the blue, furry creature which was huddled there as if too terrified to move, shivering uncontrollably. Captain Kathryn Janeway glanced over at her security chief and raised an eyebrow, seeing it echoed by the dark-skinned Vulcan who was observing her in a faintly sardonic matter. She didn't blame him. The amount of lenthra the Cirrileans wanted was far more than she wanted to give, and she hadn't gone this far in the Delta Quadrant without knowing when someone was trying to take advantage of her. Hell, she hadn't gotten that far in the Alpha Quadrant before learning that. One couldn't say the Ferengi were not a useful species to have around when it came to acquiring an education in financial matters. Certainly, these aliens were no Ferengi.

She took a deep breath and smiled charmingly at the merchant, reportedly the only one on the planet who could provide the supplies she required. "Twenty lenthra per kilogram, no more," she said and put on the expression which said she would not be pushed any further.

The Cirrilean looked outraged but since he had done that plenty of times before, Janeway was unmoved. "We must have twenty-five," he said, waving his hands for emphasis. "Any less and I will go broke."

Janeway sincerely doubted that, just from the richness of his garments and the glitter of jewelry which hung in profusion from his four ears. She wondered if it was the ears which had the effect on a species' sense of avarice. After all, ears were pretty significant in the Ferengi culture as well.

"Twenty," she said in that firm tone that brokered no further opening for negotiation.

"Twenty-two and a half," he said, trying anyway.

"Twenty," Janeway said and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest and sticking her jaw out stubbornly.

The Cirrilean dotted his brow with a silken-like handkerchief. "You will steal the bread from my mouth," he said. "I agree, only because you are lost and alone in our space."

Janeway narrowed her eyes. Dammit, that was too easy, she thought. He probably would have agreed to fifteen. Indeed, the gleam of satisfaction in the solid brown eyes let her know that he felt he had gotten the bargain he wished as he stood up and reached over to shake her hand.

Disgruntled, she shook it and watched as he left the room. She felt a keen gaze concentrated on her, and she flicked an irritated glance at Tuvok. "What?"

"It is irrelevant how much the supplies are," the Vulcan said in his even tone. "The replicators can easily reproduce their form of currency without effort."

Janeway waggled her finger at him. "That's not the point," she said. "It's the principal of the thing. I'm not going to pay more than things are worth."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow slowly. "It has occurred to me that you have actually come to enjoy this," he said. "This negotiating."

Janeway felt her lips twitch. "Honestly, Tuvok," she said. "You're being silly. I will admit, however that while I know that the Federation has moved beyond commerce, I find that I'm rather good at it. It will certainly be a useful skill to take home with me the next time I ever run into a dispute with the Ferengi."

Tuvok folded his hands neatly on the table. "You are aware of what they call beings who believe they are able to negotiate successfully with the Ferengi," he said somberly.

Janeway blinked. "No, what?" she asked.

"Bankrupt," Tuvok said succinctly.

Janeway stared at him. "Was that a joke, Tuvok?" she accused.

"If you wish it to be," he replied placidly.

She grinned and looked back at the door which swished open to admit the merchant. He handed her a piece of a plastic-like parchment.

"Affix your genetic seal," he requested. "Take the receipt to the warehouse. They will provide what you need."

Feeling a bit self-conscious, Janeway leaned forward to spit on the parchment, her saliva instantly absorbed in the space provided. He detached the bottom of it, spat himself in the required place, and gave it to her. She accepted it gingerly between her forefinger and thumb, hoping she didn't look as squeamish as she felt. Every once in awhile, she came across a custom or tradition here in the Delta Quadrant that didn't necessarily repulse her so much as make her a little nauseous. This had been one of them, but since this was the last stop, she supposed the worst was over. Which was good because she was in dire need of something to drink to restore some of the moisture in her mouth.

"A pleasure doing business with you," she said, handing the receipt to Tuvok who accepted it without any apparent qualm, placing it in the pouch with all the rest they had collected that day.

"The pleasure was all mine, Captain Janeway," he said expansively.

Janeway and Tuvok left his office, the captain assuming a dark expression. "Damn, I knew I should have gone with fifteen," she muttered.

Tuvok merely eyed her briefly and continued on. They left the building and Janeway was pleased to discover that the sun was still rather high in the sky. With any luck, they could drop the receipts off at the respective warehouses, contact the ship, and beam up the supplies in time for her to spend the remainder of the day with Seven. Her partner had taken the last shift of shore leave for just that purpose, and Janeway looked forward to spending a little quality time with Seven away from Voyager. She picked up her pace and Tuvok matched it without question, not even asking why she was in such a hurry.

She was stopped abruptly by a soft sound against a window of the shop she was passing. A gentle ticking of claws against a smooth surface drew her over, and she stopped, gazing at the five furry little faces which were peering anxiously at her through the glass.

"What are you doing, Captain?" Tuvok asked with a faint hint of disapproval.

"I see something," she said. "Wait here."

He frowned, about to speak, but she did not waste time arguing with him. When she strode briskly into the shop, he was following close on her heels, and she crossed over to the window, examining the small creatures which were scampering about the box. They looked vaguely like a cross between a weasel and a kitten, their bodies elongated slightly with large rounded eyes, tufted ears and the silkiest hair the captain had ever seen, in various shades of blue and green. Janeway looked up at the proprietress who had perked up immediately at the entrance of possible customers.

"They're adorable," the captain said. "What are they?"

"They are called B'Rethna," the female Cirrilean said, scooping one of them out, a fuzzy bundle of greenish fur which she handed to the captain.

"Be careful, Captain," Tuvok warned, whipping out his tricorder and scanning the creature.

"They are not harmful," the Cirrilean said, frowning at him. "They are a great favorite of children since they are so patient, loving and very gentle."

"How much?" Janeway said, stroking the creature on its head with a fingertip, looking into its large dark eyes with total enchantment.

"Well, these ones have been here some time," the proprietress replied slowly, with apparent reluctance. "They are almost too old to bond and would have to be released back into the wild or destroyed in any event. Because of that, I will give it to you for five lenthra."

"Three," Janeway responded automatically.

"Done," the female said so promptly that for the second time in less than an hour, Janeway knew she had gotten the wrong end of the deal. She looked sour as the proprietress hustled off to get the receipt as well as a leash and collar.

The captain carried the little bundle in the crook of her arm as they exited the shop and she was keenly aware of Tuvok's scrutiny as they resumed their course for the warehouses. Stubbornly, she kept her mouth shut, waiting him out.

"I am curious, Captain," he said finally, no longer able to resist. "What is the purpose of acquiring this biological specimen?"

"They are compatible, right?" she said, a trifle anxiously. "To us and our environment?"

"My scans detected no harmful elements," he said. "That still does not explain your reason for purchasing it."

"It's for Naomi," Janeway allowed slowly, carefully not looking at him. "Her birthday is coming up." She lifted the creature and regarded it soberly. "She's been moping around ever since I installed that rotating schedule for Jake's play time. When she's unhappy ..."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Seven is unhappy," he finished for her. "I comprehend your reasoning now."

Janeway blushed and avoided his gaze. "Seven's been a little more sensitive to how things affect Naomi since we found out about ... well, her inability to have children. I just thought that if Naomi had a pet of her own ..." She trailed off, feeling inane though grateful that it was Tuvok with her and not Chakotay. The Vulcan would not mention it again once she had explained her reasoning. Her first officer would live off it for weeks at her expense with a series of well placed little needles when she least expected them.

"I find it to be a most ... logical solution," Tuvok said finally.

Janeway glanced at him. "I'm glad you think so," she said wryly. "Though I spent far too much."

"The shopkeeper did mention that they were almost too old to be 'bonded'," Tuvok said slowly. "What did she mean?"

He looked expectantly at the captain, and Janeway looked back at him blankly. "Heavens, I don't know," she said with a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized that she had been so caught up in the acquiring of Naomi's gift in the hopes it would put a smile back on her partner's face, she had neglected to get the details. She held the creature to her chest as she dug out the parchment the shopkeeper had given her, and examined the alien script in total bafflement. "There's a whole list of instructions here which I'm sure can be translated once we're back on Voyager. In the meantime, we'll keep it in containment until the Doctor can go over it throughly."

"Indeed," he said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow as the creature abruptly urinated down the front of the captain's tunic.

"I'm sure he will be appropriately grateful for the opportunity," he added.

"B'Elanna."

The chief engineer turned, cradling the small little blue bundle, anxiousness making her chest feel tight. Tom Paris, the ship's helmsman, and Harry Kim, the operation officer, were pushing their way through the crowd toward her. Though she was less than thrilled to see Paris, it was more than offset by the relief she found in knowing she wasn't alone in this.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, a frown on his dark, handsome features at the same time Paris pointed at the creature and asked, "What's that?"

"Seven's gone," she blurted, answering the first and ignoring the second.

"You mean, you two became separated?" Harry asked.

"No, I mean she promised to wait for me right here," B'Elanna explained, gesturing with her elbow at the bench, her hands full with the creature who had seemed to have gotten over its fright and was now crawling over her in an agitated fashion, emitting several high pitched squeaks.

"Maybe she just went off to look at something," Paris said, a lock of fair hair falling boyishly into his blue eyes.

"No, she promised," B'Elanna responded stubbornly, trapping the creature on her shoulder with both hands. "She doesn't promise something and just forget it. Besides, she left this behind unattended ... and she's not answering my hails."

"What is it?" Harry asked, eyeing it skeptically.

"It's called a 'bar breath' or something," B'Elanna said impatiently. "What counts is that it's Naomi's birthday present."

That focused both men's attention. It was no secret on the ship how Seven felt about the young girl. Even if the Borg was so inclined to wander away from the chief engineer, she would never leave behind the child's gift, particularly one that would potentially crawl away. Not unless she had no choice in the matter.

"How long ago?" Harry requested, looking worried now.

"I was only in the tavern a little while, no more than ten minutes," B'Elanna said and glared daggers at Tom. He abruptly closed his mouth, forestalling whatever he had been about to say. "That was about five minutes ago."

"So she couldn't have gone far," Harry said, trying for a soothing tone. He looked around and spotted a uniform. "Excuse me, ma'am."

The Cirrilean law enforcement agent who had been strolling by, stopped and regarded the aliens with a frown.

"Our friend has gone missing," the young lieutenant explained. "Is it possible for us to ask some of your civilians if they might have seen anything?"

Having a local authority might help them get answers quicker, and B'Elanna looked at Harry approvingly, wishing she had thought of it. Of course, the ex-Maquis wasn't used to thinking in terms of involving local law enforcement. Her form of questioning was usually more ... aggressive though she hadn't quite worked herself up to that stage before the two men had appeared.

The officer seemed agreeable, and with her help, the Voyager crew began to circulate through the crowd, asking questions, trying to find someone who might remember seeing an alien walk away from the B'Rethna.

It was a young child that finally responded. She had noticed the B'Rethna more than the alien, but she did see who the Borg had gone off with.

"It was a Seer," she said.

"A what?" B'Elanna asked.

"A Seer," the police officer explained. "This is the Festival of Future, and the Seers are out in force. A Seer can describe what lies in one's future." The officer hesitated. "Something very important must have been imminent for a Seer to have picked your friend out of the crowd and taken her for a reading."

B'Elanna stifled the snort of disbelief that hovered on her lips. Instead, she centered a dark look on the officer. "Where would this Seer take her?"

"They have set up their own area for the duration of the festival," the officer said. "In any event, your friend is well. She will most likely return here after the reading is complete."

"We'd like to find that out for ourselves," B'Elanna said.

The officer frowned. "You cannot interrupt a reading," she advised strongly. "It would be wiser for you to wait here."

"I think we'll just wait in the Seer's area," the Klingon countered stubbornly. She took a step toward the officer. The officer half raised her baton, almost to ward off the Klingon. "Where is it?" B'Elanna insisted.

"B'Elanna," Harry offered warningly which the engineer ignored. The Klingon didn't like not knowing where Seven was, and she didn't buy into this mystical mumbo jumbo at all. She knew for a fact that the Borg wouldn't either, which meant Seven simply wouldn't have gone off for this sort of thing. Not willingly. There had to be more here.

"You must wait here," the officer said, this time with a note of finality.

B'Elanna yelped as the creature she was holding against her shoulder abruptly dug its claws into her neck and bit her ear, causing her to stumble forward into the officer. The police agent, who had been becoming more agitated as B'Elanna had grown more aggressive in her stance, shoved her back with the baton.

"Settle down," the officer snapped.

B'Elanna, who was staggering around, trying to pry the creature's needle sharp teeth from her earlobe, trod heavily on a few of the crowd which had surrounded them, making them say words which were no doubt the local version of curses, and they too pushed her away into others. This seemed to set up a chain reaction as Harry and Tom tried to help B'Elanna, pushing forward to her, getting shoved around as the crowd grew thicker.

B'Elanna felt the gush of hot blood stream down her neck as she finally got the creature off her ear and she snarled, thrusting the nearby bodies away from herself. She didn't know who threw the first punch, she was only sure it wasn't her ... this time ... but she was certainly aware when the punches started being directed at her.

She growled when she saw Harry take a shot to the side of the head, and she bulled her way over there, tossing aside a few people in her path. It was turning into a typical brawl, half the people trying to vacate the scene even as more pushed forward, trying to see. B'Elanna supposed it didn't help that they were just outside a tavern. The people exiting were more than ready to jump in to what was happening even though they had no clue what was going on, which only increased the agitation.

The three Voyager crewmembers put their backs to each other in the best Starfleet manner, using their training to keep the Cirrileans at bay who seemed to feel this was all the aliens' fault.

"This is all your fault, B'Elanna," Tom snapped, spitting out blood as he ducked the second punch and knocked the Cirrilean back with a left hook. "You just had to start something."

"Shut up, Paris," B'Elanna snarled, trying not to dance. The creature, after biting her ear had darted down her tunic front and was now clinging to her sweater just below her breasts. She hoped with everything she had that it wouldn't take another chunk out of the nearest piece of available flesh.

She blocked a roundhouse swing at her head, and kicked the offender in the belly. She was pleased to discover that the Cirrileans folded just as quick as Humans did when she did that. Then she saw stars when someone from her right side got in a lucky shot, and she cursed at Paris who was supposed to be covering that side. More confusion occured as suddenly there were louder yells and whistles, and then a sea of Cirrilean uniforms appeared as the brawl magically melted away.

Breathing heavily, B'Elanna brought her hands down and stood passively as the law enforcement agents surrounded them. Putting a bridle on her fury, she allowed them to grab her, realizing that fun was fun, but there was a point where she was expected to cease and desist, and it had finally come to that. The crowd of uniforms parted, and her heart hit her boots as she watched the Captain and Lt. Commander Tuvok approach.

"Oh, you'd better have a good explanation for this," Paris muttered in an aside.

"Believe me, I have the one that will work," she mumbled back.

The captain stopped in front of her, her face like stone, her eyes glittering chips of granite, and B'Elanna took a deep breath.

"Did you start this trouble?" Janeway said, her voice chill, each word bitten off like a shattered icicle falling from the eaves.

"They did," B'Elanna responded crisply. "Seven's been taken."

She watched as the stony chips turned to dark clouds of thunder, sparking lightning, and B'Elanna had no doubt that the real trouble had just begun.

For the Cirrileans.

Seven blinked, looking around the room with confusion, unsure of how she had gotten here, thinking that she was forgetting something fairly important, but unable to put her finger on what exactly. Her mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton, and it took an effort to realize she was sitting in a chair, cushions that wrapped around her body with remarkable comfort. Across the table littered with candles, a Cirrilean woman regarded her with bright emerald eyes. The colorfully dressed female had a deck of oversized cards that filled her hands.
Seven swallowed. "Where am I?" she asked in a rusty voice.
"You are safe here," the woman said in melodic tones. "There is a great darkness which looms ahead. I saw it easily, hovering above you as you sat on the bench."
Seven frowned. The bench. There was something about that she needed to address, but it kept slipping away from her.
"Explain," she demanded.
"I shall reveal your futures to you," the woman said.
"'Futures'?" Seven echoed, quirking an eyebrow. "I was unaware there was more than one for me."
"There are many," the woman said. "But two of such significant difference diverging from a single moment that I could not help but see them in your aura."
She placed a card down on the table. Seven looked at it and saw at an image of some indecipherable being holding a set of what resembled scales.
"A decision," the woman said, her voice lowering, threading around the Borg. "One made soon which shall result ... how? Choose a card."
"I beg your pardon?" Seven raised an eyebrow.
"Choose a card," the woman snapped impatiently.
Unable to resist, Seven reached out, hesitated, then selected a card at random, flipping it over as she placed it on the table above the card already there. It was dark, black, a humanoid skeleton standing upright, a dark cloak wrapped about it as it held a long implement which had a blade which curved away, sharp and deadly.
Seven caught her breath, her heart pounding, fear flooding through her though she did not understand why.

And she was abruptly elsewhere.

The captain's blood spilt hot over her arms and hands as she carried Kathryn to sickbay. The transporter system was down, Voyager's bridge crew struggling to get the ship's integrity field restored. Seven's breath came in stabs of agony, her ribs aching from where she had been thrown into the aft tactical station, but she dared not let it slow her. She staggered through the doors into the medical bay which was chaos, the biobeds filled by casualties with more arriving every moment.

"Doctor," she cried as she carried her partner across the room.

He looked up from a patient and it seemed his face blanched when he saw who Seven bore in her arms.

"Here, Seven," he said urgently as Sek, his medical assistant, helped a less injured patient off the bed to a nearby chair. Seven laid Janeway down with exquisite care, feeling helpless and frightened beyond belief as she saw how Kathryn's head lolled impossibly limp on her neck.

"Step aside, Seven," the Doctor instructed, nudging the Borg away as he bent over Voyager's commander.

Seven stood with her hands clenched, watching as a sick fear rose in her throat like acid, her breath coming in pants. It seemed an eternity before the Doctor paused in his ministrations, shot her a look, then as if requiring an effort beyond measure, he straightened and shut off the machines.

"No," Seven said in a barely audible voice.

"I have other patients who need me," the Doctor said, able to spare only a few seconds. "I'm sorry Seven. More than you can know."

"But my nanoprobes," she began. "We can restore her---"

"There's too much damage, Seven," he said, reaching out to hold onto her arms tightly. "There's nothing to restore."

"No," she screamed as she struggled against his grip and it was only the fact that he was a hologram that her left hand was not ripping his right arm off at the shoulder. "I have to go to her. I have to save her."

"Sek," he cried.

Seven frantically tried to pull away from his grip, tried to lean away from the other hologram who pressed a hypospray against the Borg's neck. Then there was only darkness.

When she woke, the sickbay was quiet, the lights brought down to indicate night watch. Seven blinked and what had happened crashed in on her like a flood, agony as exquisite as a knife's edge slicing through her without mercy. She sat up, sweeping the sheet away from her as she got to her feet, ignoring it as it fell to the floor. She looked around, seeing only other sleeping patients and the shadowed forms of the Doctor and Sek in the office. They were not looking her way and she knew they had thought that she would remain unconscious much longer, underestimating the ability of the nanoprobes to purge her system of the drug.

She left the bed and walking as if asleep, she went into the auxiliary room where she knew what she would find. There were sheet covered forms here, the glitter of stasis fields around them, awaiting their final disposal after a respectful memorial service. There was also a stasis tube, the same type as those the crew had slept in during the ship's crossing of a nebula which was infused with deadly radiation. The inhabitant of this tube was not asleep, however.

Shivering, Seven touched the controls and the plexiglass window slid back, allowing her to look down into the still face of her partner. Unlike the others, Janeway's remains would not be shot into the nearest star. Instead, they would be carried reverently for the rest of Voyager's journey, returned to Earth no matter how long it would take to get home. The ship ... her crew ... owed the captain that much.

Seven's fingers trembled as she touched Kathryn's cheek, feeling not the warmth of smooth skin, but chill flesh, waxy, almost unreal. This was not Kathryn, not her partner. Not the woman Seven had loved with every fiber of her being, with every molecule that comprised who she was. That person was gone, leaving behind her partner without so much as a chance to say good-bye.

The Borg's heart shattered within her, into so many distinct and individual shards of pain that she knew that they would never be able to be reunited, would never again beat with any semblance of human feeling.

"Kathryn," she whispered, a breath of complete and utter despair passing through lips which would never again know her spouse's kiss, would never again say the three small words that had meant everything.

Janeway was gone, and Seven knew she would never hold her again, would never be a part of her life, would never have her be a part of hers. The mere contemplation of such a life was totally and completely unacceptable to Seven. She could not bear to exist with such a gaping wound in her soul, could not imagine existing another moment in this terrible reality.

Moving silently, barely able to think coherently, she left the sickbay through the aft exit into an auxiliary corridor, moving like a wraith through the ship until she reached the nearest airlock. Mechanically, she cycled the lock after disabling the alert to the bridge, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. Her fingers shook so hard that she could barely key in the commands to begin the decompression sequence, and the hiss of escaping air was like a blessed relief as she sank to the floor, leaning her head back against the hull. It would be over soon. The air would be completely removed, leaving a vacuum which would activate the outer seal, opening the interior to the emptiness of space. By that time, she would be unconscious from the lack of oxygen, and death would be quick.

"Annika, what are you doing?"

Seven raised her eyes with an effort, time stretching interminably as the air grew thin, her lungs instinctively sucking for every molecule of oxygen, unaware of the brain's conscious decision to stop the pain. Kathryn, whole and hearty stood there, looking down at her with a distinctly disturbed expression on her classic features. The analytical part of Seven's mind noted that the lack of air was not disturbing her partner at all, and the Borg decided that this must be a hallucination of sorts, the desperate illusion of an oxygen starved brain. It pleased her and she smiled, content that her last seconds would not be as lonely as she feared, that she would in fact, not die alone after all.

"You can't do this," Kathryn said, kneeling next to her, raising her chin with her fingers, looking into her face with those marvelous warm blue eyes touched with just a hint of grey. "You promised me, Annika. You can't give up now. I won't let you."

Seven found it difficult to speak, her throat thick and full.

"Do not ask this of me," she mumbled finally.

"I don't want you to do this, Annika," Kathryn said softly. "You have your whole life ahead of you."

Seven shook her head weakly, lolling on her neck. "Not without you," she said. Tears filled her eyes. "Please Kathryn. Don't make me live without you. Take me with you."

"You will be with me ... someday," Kathryn promised gently and it seemed her face took on a glow. "But not now, my darling. There is still too much for you to do, to see, to experience. Please don't do this."

Seven's eyes slid shut. "Too late," she whispered, hearing the clunk of the door, knowing her time was up.

They found her unconscious, barely able to override the decompression cycle in time, led by Lt. Torres who had staggered from her quarters where she had been sprawled in a drunken slumber. The chief engineer never told another living soul what had awakened her, that she had sat up abruptly with the words of the captain fresh in her ears: "She's in airlock twelve, B'Elanna. Save her from herself."

B'Elanna knew that was impossible because the captain was dead and Seven was in sickbay, sedated from the horrible shock, all of which had caused her drunken stupor in the first place. Yet, somehow the Klingon rose from her bed, tapping her communicator to alert the others as she raced through the corridors to arrive barely in time to save her friend.

Who was not the slightest bit grateful. Seven was kept in sickbay for a week, then tentatively released to resume her duties though she refused to go back to the cabin where she and Kathryn had lived. Every member of the crew kept her under surveillance, sensing that to lose her as well would be too much for Voyager to bear. However, the young woman did not attempt to commit suicide again.

She moved into cargo bay two where Neelix set up a cot for her without being asked. She did not feel anything, did not care that the crew was looking out for her. It was unnecessary for them to be so concerned. Kathryn did not want her to die. Seven would do her best not to disappoint the woman she loved just as she always had, though she was completely unable to understand what she had done so wrong to be condemned to such a horrible existence. Seven functioned, but as a machine functioned, hardly sleeping and eating, spending all her conscious hours at work at her console.

It was the cruelest of ironies that she made the final breakthrough in the slipstream drive less than three weeks later. In the dark of night, the equations she had been searching for so long suddenly became clear to her, and without emotion, she sent her findings to the bridge, then lay down on the cot and closed her eyes, surrendering to unconsciousness.

Voyager's return to Earth was a celebration tempered only slightly by the fact that the ship had returned without its captain. Seven was immediately claimed by Starfleet Command, kept in isolation by Starfleet Intelligence as they picked her brain clean about the Borg Collective. She did whatever was requested of her, ignoring the passing of time as the debriefings went on and on, and the rest of the universe moved on without her. Then one day, Harry Kim, now wearing three pips, two gold and one dark, came to her and told her that Voyager was being overhauled to be sent back into space, having been held in the Utopia Planetia shipyards until Starfleet decided its final fate. He also told her that if she did not finish cleaning out the captain's quarters, then Starfleet would have to, and perhaps Seven would come to regret that later even if she didn't yet feel ready to do it now.

Having acquired all the information her Borg brain could offer, Starfleet Command readily released Seven into Harry's custody, and she accompanied him out to where their old vessel orbited Mars, passively awaiting its next incarnation. Kim remained behind on the shuttle as she beamed on board, the corridors echoing with cold silence as she walked through them to the door of the captain's quarters which hissed open with unnatural loudness.

She faltered as she entered, unable to stop the memories from crashing down on her, the pain which she had walled away set free to spread through her without restraint. She put her hand on the kitchenette counter which was covered by a thin layer of dust, blinking back the tears with a supreme effort as she kept the sobs from escaping her chest, refusing to break down; afraid that once she did, she simply wouldn't be able to recover.

It took a few moments before she was able to look about, noting that the tables, the shelves, and the work desks had been cleared of ornamentation, and she realized that all the things she and Kathryn had acquired had been packed away. She discovered several shipping containers sitting in the corner where Jake had kept his toys, his bed and the personal device which she had so painstakingly trained him to use. It occurred to her suddenly that she wasn't even sure where the dog was now, and she tried to comprehend what had happened to him. She supposed finally that the Wildmans had taken him, or that one of the crew who had been assigned to take care of him had adopted him. She hoped he was happy where ever he had ended up, though there was a part of her that did not really care much.

She steeled herself and went into the bedroom, relieved to see the bed stripped of linens with only the bare mattress left. She doubted that it was even the mattress they had slept on since ship's stores was sure to have replaced it when she had moved out. The quarters were just so empty, devoid of all signs that she and the captain had ever been here, and she found that she was grateful, relieved that perhaps this would not be as difficult as she had anticipated.

After several long moments where she looked out the window above the bed at the stars, she drifted into the ensuite for a final check, just to make sure that nothing had been left. She was surprised to see the closet doors held open, then supremely horrified to find that not everything had been packed after all. She supposed that this was a measure of respect on the part of whoever had packed up, that no one had wanted to touch these, that perhaps they had wanted to leave them for her to deal with. As she stood there, however, staring at the long white wedding gown, and the white and black Starfleet dress uniform hanging limply from their respective hangers, both covered with a fine sprinkling of dust, it seemed the most unspeakable sort of cruelty instead.

The few remaining pieces of her heart which she hadn't even know were left, shriveled into tiny bits which were so small as to be nonexistent.

Tears spilt from her eyes as she blindly reached out, taking the Starfleet dress whites into her arms as she sank to the floor, curling up on the cold tiles, burying her face into the stiff cloth which still smelled of Kathryn even after all these months, still had the captain's fragrance clinging to the fabric. Seven sobbed until she ached, cried until she could not breathe, until there was nothing left inside but the terrible emptiness which was her only legacy of a love she thought would never end. She could not hug the garments close enough to her body, could not keep the reality from tearing her soul to shreds, could not control the terrible weeping until finally her body simply stopped on its own, too drained to feel any more emotion.

Much later, she was able to place the carefully folded outfits neatly into the top of a container which was filled with the rest of their clothing. Then she placed the Starfleet comm badge she had been given for just this purpose on the top of it, instructing Utopia Planetia control to beam the stack of containers away to a storage locker which had been arranged on Mars where she had been staying while undergoing her debriefings. Then she sat down on the chair and looked around with eyes that were as dark and still as a stagnant pond in the moonlight.

For just a second, she thought she could hear the echoes of another time, of a life where passion reigned and happiness was the norm, and she listened intently, straining to catch the slightest sense of what she had once had. But there was only silence and defeated, she dropped her eyes, looking at her hands folded neatly on her lap, realizing that she had no idea what she should do next. This was no longer her home, but she did not know where she could go to find a new one ... or even if she wanted to. She only knew that what she did want was denied her, that she was not allowed to carry it out because by doing so, she would let Kathryn down in some terrible, final way.

On the trip from Mars to the shipyards, Harry had filled her in on the rest of Voyager's crew, how they were now scattered about the quadrant, all finding some way to move on. While the Starfleet crewmembers picked up on careers interrupted by their diverted tour of the Delta Quadrant, the Maquis had been pardoned through a deal made with Chakotay. Those who wished to continue with Starfleet were commissioned and spread around a fleet severely depleted by the war against the Dominion. In the meantime, Voyager's former first officer served a short prison term, taking all the crimes his people had committed against the Federation on his shoulders. The Doctor and Sek were claimed by Starfleet Medical where their respective matrixes were being studied with fascination, and not a little revulsion. The last time Harry had seen Tom Paris, it was in a bar in Paris where the former helmsman was so drunk he could barely speak, and when he finally became abusive, Harry had left in disgust. Tuvok had returned to Vulcan and his family. Kim did not know where Neelix had gone after Samantha Wildman was reunited with her husband. B'Elanna disappeared not long after their return to the Federation, and no news of her existed at all.

Seven tried to find it in herself to care about this, but these people were just reminders of a life she could no longer have. She did not think she would be able to care about anything ever again. She swallowed hard and stood up, touching the communicator on her breast, signaling the shuttle. As the sparkles filled her eyes, the last thing she saw was the couch where she and Kathryn had spent so many evenings talking, drinking wine and being together, feeling the sense of empty finality creep over her like an inevitable tide, inexorable, unstoppable.

She asked Harry to take her to the huge space dock which orbited the northern hemisphere of Earth. There, a hundred ships left and departed for the outer reaches of the Federation every day, and she had some vague idea of finding one, of traveling as far and as long as she could in the hopes of one day being able to leave all the memories behind. Harry dropped her off at the outer ring and wished her well before heading for his new ship and his new posting. Seven spent several hours walking around the hangers and docking bays, looking at the various vessels and trying to make a decision as to where she should go.  It was so difficult to concentrate, however, her mind occupied with the memory of the story Kathryn had told her about coming here as a little girl on her very first trip off her home planet. In the early hours of night watch, the Borg found herself inevitably drawn to one of the huge windows which looked down on the blue and white sphere that her partner had called home.

She didn't know how long she watched the planet, standing silent and alone, only peripherally conscious of the various people passing by who took note of the solitary form, but did not approach. As the Earth slowly revolved, Seven found she was picking out the various landmarks that Kathryn has shown her so many times on the viewscreen in astrometrics. When the North American continent finally swam into view, her eyes centered on the area she knew was Indiana. Suddenly, for the immediate future, at least, she had a destination, needing desperately to make a final good-bye before taking the next transport out.

She did not question the fact that she could go anywhere by merely requesting it, unaware that the comm badge she had been issued had been coded by Admiral Nechayev who, despite her great distaste for the Borg in general, had been incredibly moved by the story told by the crew of Voyager about this young woman and her love for the doomed captain. For the time being, Seven was granted carte blanc, the Admiral content that the heartbroken young woman would hardly attempt to misuse it. Seven only knew that when she went to the transporter area, and asked to be beamed down to a specific set of coordinates on Earth, the technician merely checked her ID and carried out her request, keying in the controls to send her on her way.

Seven materialized by a small, white structure, the smell of summer and growing things strong in her nostrils as she took her first breath of Indiana air. A warm breeze danced over the emerald stocks of corn in the gently rolling hills around her, and she could hear the lazy hum of insects in the grass. It was late afternoon, the sun low in the azure sky, and she walked to the small cemetery on the other side of the building, steadfastly refusing to look to the rear of the church where a rose garden bloomed brightly in the summer sun. She strode among the various graves, finding a path which led up a low hill. Searching the stones intently, she finally found it beneath the statuesque trunk of an oak tree, shadowed in the cool shade of the overhanging limbs, standing not too far away from another which bore the Admiral's name.

Seven knelt down beside the squared grey stone, placing her hand against the cold granite, tracing the markings there. She had not come to the memorial service even though she had been granted permission to attend. Instead, she had spent the day answering questions and trying very hard not to think about anything at all.  That night, however, she had lay on her narrow bunk and dreamed images of a time and place which left her alone and aching the next morning when she awoke, clutching the pillow that, for one precious moment, had been Kathryn in her arms. Now, with blurred eyes, she read the inscription, simultaneously simple and profound, just as her partner had been.

Kathryn Anne Janeway
Devoted daughter,
Adored sister,
Beloved wife.
'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....'

Seven's fingers shook as she traced the fourth line, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cold stone. The sobs overwhelmed her though she had believed she had cried all there was to cry and only now realized that she had not even begun. She knew Kathryn was not here, not really, but her remains, that body which she had held so close to her, which contained the being Seven had loved so much, rested beneath the cool green turf and the small arch of lattice where the red roses bravely climbed. For the Borg, it was all she had left.

Seven could smell the sweet raspberry scent of the fading blooms and the scent triggered the memory of the single red rose which would wait for her every morning in astrometrics. Why did you make me promise, Kathryn, she asked voicelessly to the fragrant air, her face pressed against the smooth rock, her tears sliding silently down the grey surface. Why are you making me live like this?

"Annika."

The throaty voice was more than she thought she could bear, and she swallowed hard, gulping for air against the sobs. It took a few moments before she was composed enough to stand up, to turn around to face the level grey eyes of Phoebe Janeway.

"Father Davis saw you arrive and contacted the house," the tall, slender woman said softly, her long, curly hair a dark red in the setting sun. "We've been waiting for you, little sister."

Seven looked down at the ground. "She's not here," she said in an almost inaudible voice, her soul bleeding. "Not really. I hoped she would be somehow ... but she isn't." Her voice caught and she gasped, the severity of the pain stabbing through her catching her unprepared for its viciousness, having to wrap her arms around her ribs in the hopes it would keep her from flying completely apart.

"No," Phoebe said, her voice was impossibly gentle, her face warm with compassion. "But we are, Mother and I. Come home, Annika. Come home with me and heal."

Seven shook her head. "I cannot," she said. "It is not possible for me to heal."

"Then just come home," Phoebe said, her voice persuasive. "Come home to where she would have brought you if she had been able. Then we can decide what to do next."

Carefully she stretched out her hand and the Borg stared at it for a long moment.

Finally Seven of Nine stepped forward and accepted the grip which pulled her into a warm embrace, not able to see what lay ahead, knowing only that she was weary beyond belief and that perhaps for a little while, she could rest. She closed her eyes and lay her head on the shoulder of Kathryn's younger sister, holding onto Phoebe for dear life as the tears fell fast and thick once more.

Then together, hand in hand, they walked away from the small mound on the hill as the sun set red and gold on the flat, Indiana horizon. Seven jerked away from the hand holding hers, staring at the Seer with horror, the echoes of heartache and despair penetrating her chest like a dagger, making her heart pound and her head ache.
"That is my future?" she said, gasping hard for breath, grasping for some sense of control.
"One," the Seer said. "Choose another card. See the alternative."
"No," Seven said, cringing away. "I do not wish to see anymore."
The Seer's hand snaked out, grabbed the young woman's wrist and pulled her hand to the cards. "Choose," she hissed.
Despite her best effort to control them, Seven's fingers closed over the next card and she pulled it from the deck fanned out in the Seer's hand, turning it and laying next to the dark card. This card was almost obscene in its contrast, colorful, a brightly blooming tree with two small beings dancing about it.

And Seven was elsewhere.

"Dammit Annika, I can't take this anymore," Kathryn snarled. "You have gone too far. This time, I'm leaving you for good."

Seven did not bother to glance over at the rotund form of her partner, unimpressed by the threat as she worked on the data contained in her padd. For one thing, she had heard it several times over the past few months, increasing in frequency the closer Kathryn approached her due date. She understood that Kathryn did not really mean it ... after all, inevitably, within the next breath, Kathryn would be professing the most undying love. With her hormones in an uproar, the captain's moods were all over the place, and the Borg had finally just adapted. Of course, Seven also knew that Janeway was entirely incapable of going anywhere at the moment.

After a very long pause when she had heard nothing further from that direction other than a few, frustrated grunts, she finally raised her eyes to peer across the bedroom. She quirked an eyebrow, firmly pressed her lips together and drew her leg up underneath her, reclining against the pillows at the head of the bed as she regarded Kathryn, who was doing her level best to pry her oversized body out of her chair.

"Do you require some assistance?" she asked after a few more moments, with the greatest of politeness.

Kathryn just glared at her and redoubled her efforts. However, the chair was constructed so that it was far too low to get out of comfortably at the best of times, and Seven honestly had no idea why Kathryn insisted on sitting on it. The captain hadn't been able to get out of it on her own since her fourth month.

Finally, Kathryn settled back, exhausted, blowing a strand of auburn hair off her perspiration soaked forehead.

"Get over here," she snapped.

Seven gracefully uncoiled from the bed and strolled over to her partner, the soft whisper of breeze from the window by the chair stirring the curtains. She carefully reached down and put her hands beneath her partner's arms, pulling her from the low cushion and holding her upright as Janeway tottered uncertainly on splayed feet.

"Very well," the Borg said, trying not to show she was amused. "Tomorrow night, you may have some."

Startled, Kathryn looked at her. "What?" she said.

Seven nodded. "I spoke with the Doctor," she said. "He said that caffeine would not harm the babies at this point, so tomorrow night, during the party, Phoebe is going to make her own blend and you may have an entire cup."

"Oh, Annika," Kathryn breathed, all soft and yielding in the Borg's arms all of a sudden. "Really?"

"I promise," Seven said seriously.

Janeway offered her a tremulous smile, then it faded, becoming a frown suddenly. "Why not tonight?" she asked, her eyes growing steely.

Seven smiled faintly. "Because I removed all the coffee from the house two months ago," she said dryly. "Not to mention making a request to all the local shops not to deliver it here. Phoebe will have to bring the ingredients with her when she arrives tomorrow morning."

Kathryn sighed, and hugged Seven as best she could with the rounded belly between them. "I know I'm being a bitch, darling," she mumbled into Seven's shoulder.

"You are not," Seven said softly, hugging her back tenderly. "You are simply tired ... and lack agility which frustrates you."

"So I take it out on you," Kathryn said, a touch shamefully.

"Yes," Seven agreed softly. "But that is my role. I do not mind."

Kathryn smiled bashfully. "You shouldn't have to take my bad moods," she said. "I am sorry, Annika. I honestly thought I would handle ... all this, better than I have."

"It will not be for much longer," Seven soothed, rubbing her back gently.

Privately, she was very glad they had decided to go with a multiple birth to acquire their desired offspring rather than two separate pregnancies. Seven didn't think she could tolerate going through any more with her partner.

"It is late," she added quietly. "I will be helping Gretchen prepare for the celebration most of the day. You require your rest. We should go to bed."

Kathryn sighed and nodded, taking the offered hand as Seven led her into the bathroom where the Borg helped her prepare for bed, assisting Janeway into her nightgown even though the captain was not so awkward that she could not do this herself. It was just easier when Seven helped, and the younger woman was gratified by being able to contribute to her partner's comfort in this manner.

Though it had been a fairly easy pregnancy so far, the natural restrictions on the normally athletic Janeway were compounded greatly by her having to leave her command a month earlier than she had anticipated. Seven did not think she would ever forget the expression on the Doctor's face when he discovered that Janeway had been spacewalking while leading a rescue team to recover a crewmember who had gotten in trouble, her rounded belly protruding beneath the thick space suit. Seven had been equally appalled, but considering she was the crewmember in question, she hadn't been in a position to prevent it as she would have otherwise been.

"Do you think Chakotay will be able to make it?" Janeway asked wistfully as they returned to the bedroom. The next day would see the second anniversary of Voyager's triumphant return to the Alpha Quadrant through the Jarvis wormhole, and both of them were looking forward to seeing all their old friends. Janeway had hoped that she would be able to present her children to her old crew, rather than still hauling them around inside her huge belly, but it seemed her offspring had other plans. She was now one and a half weeks overdue.

"I believe so," Seven told her as she pulled back the blankets, and stood by protectively as Janeway eased into bed rather like an Excelsior class vessel sliding into a docking port. "My last information had the Yeager entering the Terran system this morning. Though his debriefings will keep him busy, he did contact Neelix to say he would definitely be here tomorrow night."

Janeway sighed and settled against the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. "It will be good to see him again," she said. "I miss having him as my first officer."

"I'll be sure to inform Tuvok," Seven said dryly as she slipped in next to her spouse.

Janeway poked her sharply in the side. "You'll do no such thing," she warned. "It's not nice to tease a pregnant woman. I'm very fragile."

Seven raised an eyebrow. It had taken the Doctor, the Borg and Janeway's Vulcan first officer combining their best arguments to convince Janeway to accept an earlier maternity leave rather than continuing to run courier missions for Starfleet Command while seven and a half months pregnant. The Borg supposed that even that wouldn't have worked had not Voyager been about to undergo a complete overhaul in order to install the new, fully modified transwarp drive. Future missions would see Federation vessels able to travel through the Delta Quadrant at will, this time as explorers rather than lost wanderers, and Janeway had been the first to volunteer herself and Voyager for the new technology. It was as if she needed to completely conquer the area of space which had been such a trial to her for so many years.

Seven reached over and gently hugged Kathryn around the neck, kissing her gently on the temple. "You are about as fragile as the duranium hull of Voyager," she told her wryly.

Janeway smiled. "Hmm," she murmured. "It seems to me that duranium sink counter wasn't too strong ... not in your hands."

"You are safe in my hands," Seven assured her, smiling at the shared memory.  Then she released her as Kathryn shifted, attempting to find her position. At this stage, it was hard for Janeway to find a comfortable way to sleep, and a lot of recent nights found the pair of them in a reclining position against the head of the bed, Seven supporting Janeway as she slumbered in her arms, watching her peaceful face as the soft sounds of the spring night wafting through the window, along with the smell of growing things.

After finally convincing Janeway to take off the full year of leave she was entitled to, the couple had returned to this small wood frame house in the Indiana agricultural park where Kathryn had grown up. Gretchen had been thrilled to have her daughter home, along with her as yet unborn grandchildren, and together with Seven, she had tried to make it as easy as possible for the captain who was missing her ship, and chaffing at her enforced inactivity.

Janeway struggled over onto her side, facing away from Seven which meant she wanted her partner to wrap herself around her as best she could, which Seven obligingly did. Janeway was considerably more than the armful she used to be, but Seven did not mind in the slightest. She placed her palm over the rounded tummy, her Borg enhanced left hand easily picking up the flutters within, the dual heartbeats, feeling the same sense of awe she always did.

"Annika," Kathryn whispered.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven responded.

"Do you think ... something's wrong?" The captain's voice was tiny in the night.

"Because you are almost two weeks overdue?" Seven said, snuggling close so that her lips were right next to her spouse's ear. "Not at all. The Doctor said that can happen in a first pregnancy." She smiled and nuzzled Kathryn's hair. "I do not blame them. I would not wish to leave your body either."

Janeway laughed sleepily. "Well, this crew had better disembark soon," she said with a touch of relief. "I'll need a complete overhaul myself before I return to Voyager." She hesitated. "Are you still certain you want to come with me so soon?"

Seven smiled. "Kathryn, we need to be together," she said. "Our children will thrive on Voyager, just as Naomi did. Better, because they will have each other to grow up with."

Janeway shifted uncomfortably. "Not if they're anything like Phoebe and I," she said dryly. "It'll be a battle zone. The Borg will be a breeze in comparison."

"I am sure they shall be fine," Seven assured.

They had gone over this discussion many times before, and from many directions. At first, Seven had thought Kathryn was trying to get out of their agreement to keep the family together, but gradually she had come to realize that Janeway was just very insecure when it came to her children, as well as her ability to make them happy. The captain needed to be repeatedly reassured that she wasn't making a mistake by taking her family along on her missions, even though she was determined not to be the sort of absentee parent her father was. She also worried that she was trying to have it all, when perhaps it wasn't possible; maintaining command of Voyager with her spouse at her side, leading an exciting life in Starfleet exploration while remaining in the loving arms of her family.

Perhaps they couldn't have it all, Seven thought privately, but that didn't mean they couldn't try. If it did prove to be too dangerous, then she would return here with the children to raise them until they were of an age to make their own decision about where they wanted to be.

Kathryn made a soft sound, jerking slightly, and Seven's arm tightened.

"Are you all right?" Seven asked.

"Mmm," Janeway said, snuggling back. "They're just a little lively tonight. They'll settle down eventually." She paused. "You know, coffee would make them quieter."

Seven snorted with derision at such a blatent falsehood, and felt Janeway elbow her admonishingly in the ribs. The matter of the coffee had caused some spirited arguments when Seven deemed the liquid potentially harmful to their offspring even as Janeway utilized every method she could come up with to acquire a cup ... only to see it snatched away at the last second by the Borg. Seven had not been able to keep Kathryn completely away from the noxious fluid, but she was content that she had cut Janeway's caffeine level way down, and the constant battle of wits provided the captain with something to concentrate on other than being away from her ship.

"Annika," Janeway murmured sleepily. "I love you."

Seven kissed her ear. "I love you too, Kathryn," she said. "Go to sleep if you can. Tomorrow will be a big day." Seven adored being in Gretchen Janeway's kitchen. It was large and filled with sunlight, the aromas of spice and warm food a constant presence in the air. The Borg thought that one could stand in the doorway and acquire a satisfying and delicious meal just from the fragrance. The spacious counters and cabinets contained every utensil and food preparation appliance which could be found, and Seven, from the first moment she set foot in it upon returning to Earth, had been in absolute heaven. Gretchen had been thrilled to have such an attentive and eager pupil, which had amused Kathryn greatly, the Starfleet captain suggesting that perhaps her mother had finally gotten the daughter she was meant to ... something to which the older woman totally agreed.

Seven was intently measuring out her ingredients, fully occupied with adding just the right amount of spice to the casseroles which were to provide the main course for the evenings festivities. This was the first time she had been allowed to prepare this particular dish after finally being granted the secret recipe by a suitably serious Gretchen, and the Borg was taking extreme care to be exact. She wanted to be absolutely perfect under the gentle gaze of her mentor, who also happened to be her mother-in-law.

Phoebe had finally arrived and was perched on a stool, dividing her time between teasing Seven unmercifully about her domestic skills ... an onus Seven was apparently expected to carry as the 'little sister' ... and needling Kathryn about her apparent inability to do something so simple as give birth in a timely and efficient manner. Kathryn, perched somewhat gingerly in a chair at the kitchen table, was giving back as good as she was getting, wondering when Phoebe was going to get a 'real job' within the next millennium, even as she continued to try to wheedle a cup of coffee out of her before the party.

Seven looked up briefly at one point as the two women burst into laughter, drawing their mother into it, and the vision of the three women together, all of them loving Seven without reservation, afforded the Borg the knowledge that there could be no better existence than this. Their love and happiness surrounded her, a palpable joy at being part of this family filling her; something that she had only dreamed of on Voyager, and could never have imagined as a drone.

"Honestly, Mother," Kathryn was saying, revisiting a very old argument. "I simply want to know why you and Annika are doing all this work. The replicator would take care of it with a fraction of the time and effort."

"But it wouldn't be as good," Gretchen insisted with gentle good humor. "Tell me, Kathryn, would your conclusions from your engineering experiments be as personally satisfying if you allowed automated drones to do it all?"

"That's different," Kathryn said stubbornly. "Science is hands on so that a researcher can get the proper perspective of the conclusion."

"Cooking is very scientific," Seven noted. She flicked a look at Phoebe. "As well as artistic.  It requires experimentation and care with the measurements, as well as a certain creativity in attempting to explore new avenues. In the end, I find the results are far more satisfying and fulfilling than mere scientific endeavors."

"Listen to Annika," Gretchen said firmly. "After all, she should know. She does have the knowledge of ten thousand species in her brain, after all."

Phoebe laughed, her free and easy spirit a direct contrast to her more sedate and composed older sister. "You should know better than to argue with Mom," she told the Starfleet captain.  "Especially now that she has Annika for backup."

"I'm not arguing," Kathryn protested mildly. "I'm just saying I don't understand the need for all this effort."

"It is purely a personal satisfaction," Seven told her, taking a moment from her work to lean over and nuzzle her spouse briefly.

Kathryn, who was still a bit embarrassed at such openly affectionate gestures in front of her mother and sister, though neither hardly minded, blushed faintly but smiled and managed to kiss her back before Seven returned to her task. "In any event," Seven added as she took the large dish and placed it in the heating unit, along with all the others. "This is the last. Now we can relax."

"Just in time," Gretchen noted, peering out the window. "Isn't that your engineer, Kathryn?"

Janeway eased off her chair and waddled over to the window. "So it is," she said, smiling happily. "I wonder how the upgrades are coming. She promised she'd come by early to fill me in."

Seven took the captain's elbow as they went out the screen door to the veranda which ran the back length of the house, moving over to where the porch swing sat facing the driveway where a hovercraft had just settled onto its landing struts. "Do not occupy all your time tonight with work," she requested gently as she helped her partner sit in the swing.

"I won't," Janeway promised, and smiled as Seven turned to meet the woman who had leaped lightly up the stairs, dressed in the grey and black of Starfleet Engineering.

"It's so good to see you two," Commander B'Elanna Torres greeted, grinning widely as she hugged Seven. "How are things?" She took a look at Janeway and laughed. "Haven't got the hangar doors open yet?" she added with tolerant amusement.

Janeway's lips pursed, and she favored her former chief engineer with a grimace. "They are steadfastly refusing to leave the ship," she said. "I hope it's not indicative of their general attitude. That's all I need; more insubordinate crew."

Even Seven smiled at that as she settled next to her partner while B'Elanna leaned casually against the wood railing, filling in the captain on all the modifications to her beloved ship which Torres was overseeing at the Utopia Planetia shipyards orbiting Mars. The Borg listened quietly, amused at the two officer's shared enthusiasm for the technical improvements being implemented. Then her eye was caught by two more figures walking up the driveway, and she felt the warm spot in her chest grow larger, infusing her with pleasure. The tall dark form of Voyager's current first officer matched its former first officer stride for stride as Tuvok and Chakotay, now sporting the four pips of command, quickened their pace as they saw the gathering on the deck.

A little later, a small ship swooped down with casual indifference as to how it might scare the horses, and landed on the back lawn. Commander Tom Paris leaped out, still dressed in the jumpsuit of the Starfleet flight test facility, preceding Lt. Commander Harry Kim who looked a little green around the edges from what must have been a rather exciting trip from his posting as Chief of Operations on Deep Space Four. The Doctor and Sek arrived simply by materializing onto the porch, transported from Starfleet Medical where they were using their leave to lecture the medical personnel there on the genetic scans of Species 8472. The living holograms, assigned to Janeway's command, were greeted enthusiastically by the rest, and were soon deep in a discussion with Phoebe about the new holographic form art being displayed at the local gallery.

Neelix, fresh off a successful tour of the Federation's Rigelan colonies in his ambassadorial role as representative of the Delta Quadrant, arrived with another group who had gathered from all over the Alpha Quadrant to help celebrate this second anniversary. Seven was kept busy greeting old faces, and catching up on all that had happened the last two years, more people arriving every minute until the entire former crew of Voyager was gathered around the farmhouse porch. They greedily partook of the generous repast of potato salad, corn on the cob, and Gretchen Janeway's special rice and pepper casserole with appropriate cries of appreciation, while Seven oversaw the simulated chicken and beef steaks sizzling on the barbeque. Later, they settled in with a variety of sweets and coffee as dusk fell, the soft peeps of frogs from the pond and the crickets in the meadow a pleasant counterpoint to their many conversations. The Borg made a point of being near Kathryn at that point, wanting to see her partner's face when Phoebe presented the captain with the first fully authorized cup of coffee she'd had in over six months.

Janeway's enforced abstinence from the brew was no secret, and the crowd regarded her with amused attentiveness as Janeway accepted the mug with appropriate dignity after getting awkwardly to her feet. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled as she raised it in a toast to these people, still considering them her crew regardless of where they might be posted now.

"It was a long journey," she said, the crowd respectfully hushed. "Sometimes a difficult one, certainly, but together, we made it back. To all of us, and especially to those who did not make it all the way home. May they never be forgotten."

They raised their glasses and with anticipation, Janeway raised the mug to her lips. A startled 'oh' and an astounded look crossed her face just before it touched them. Seven was instantly at her side.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously. Janeway looked down, and Seven followed her gaze to the spreading wetness puddling about the captain's feet. "Your water has broken!"

"It can wait," Janeway stated firmly, raising the mug quickly to her lips, but not quickly enough as Seven snatched the cup out of her hands and deposited it on the arm of the porch swing. Immediately, the Borg started urging her partner into the house. "Nooo," the captain protested despairingly, looking back over her shoulder at the steaming cup left abandoned as excitement swept the crowd, the Doctor and Sek shoving their way through the various Starfleet officers, snapping orders.

Seven and Gretchen got Janeway situated in the spare, ground-floor bedroom which they had set up for just this purpose a month earlier. The Borg noted suddenly that her partner was no longer concerned with the coffee she was missing, and was now fully occupied with the contractions that were suddenly overwhelming her.

"I was afraid of this," the Doctor remarked idly as they got the captain properly positioned. "They been hanging around for so long, they can hardly wait to get out now."

Seven sat behind her partner, supporting Kathryn's shoulders as the captain's hand gripped the Borg's tightly, in grave danger of crushing the young woman's implant. On the other side of the room, Phoebe recorded everything intently with a holo-imager, fascinated beyond all reason in this process her older, incredibly proper sister was undergoing.

"Ow," Kathryn said in a high voice. "This hurts!"

"Breathe, Kathryn," Seven instructed in a soothing voice despite the pain in her implant where Kathryn's nails were digging in with tremendous force. "Just as we practiced."

"God dammit, we didn't practice this," Kathryn yelped. "Get them out. Get them out!" Her voice rose with every word.

"Easy, Kathryn," Gretchen said softly, wiping her daughter's forehead with a soft, damp cloth. "Everything will be fine."

"Relax," the Doctor ordered firmly, placing himself between the captain's legs. "Don't worry, Captain. This isn't going to take long. They take after their mother after all; when they decide to do something, not much is going to slow them down."

"Will everyone stop telling me to relax?" Kathryn snapped, the firm whip of command in her voice severely undermined by the squeak of panic.  "Just beam these things out of me!"

"Kathryn, calm down," Seven said, hugging her chest gently. "Let it happen naturally. Do not resist."

"If you say 'resistance is futile'," Janeway warned through clenched teeth. "I swear I'll smack you."

Seven kissed her on the temple, forcing herself to be calm in the face of all this lack of cooperation. "It will be all right, Kathryn," she said firmly.

"Ow, dammit," Janeway replied.

"Push, Captain," the Doctor said.

"Ow, ow," Janeway said louder. "Damn."

"I see a head," the Doctor said. Over his shoulder, Sek hovered expectantly, ready to step in with the proper equipment if anything went amiss. "Here comes the first one."

"Ow, ow, ow." Janeway yipped. "Damn, damn, DAMN!"

Outside the door somewhere, the Irish Setter, Jake howled in response to his mistress's yelps of pain, and Seven heard the crowd try to hush him. She wondered how they were reacting to the sounds of their former captain giving birth behind the wooden door. They certainly weren't talking much ... her enhanced hearing would have picked up on that.

"It's a boy," the Doctor said as more howls filled the air, this time by a squirming, wet, wrinkled organism covered with blood which the hologram held up as he severed the cord.

Seven was appalled. "Is it supposed to look like that?" she asked in a quavery voice.

The Doctor shot her a disgusted look. "Do be quiet, Seven," he said.

The Borg wondered why something that looked so pristine and organized in the instructional programs was so incredibly messy and confused in actuality. Still a little aghast at the sight of the newborn, she looked down at Kathryn who was regarding her with eyes as wide and blue as she had ever seen.

"Is he all right?" Janeway asked anxiously.

"He's fine," Sek interrupted, having wiped him off, scanned him thoroughly and wrapped him in a clean, white blanket, bringing him close to the two parents. "He's perfect, in fact. Five pounds, six ounces. Say hello to your son."

The two women regarded the tiny bundle with mutual astonishment, apprehension and awed adoration.

"Captain," the Doctor reminded the mother from his position, looking faintly annoyed. "You're not done. I think you're going to have to push a little harder for this one. It's a little more reluctant."

The couple tore their eyes from their firstborn with difficulty and shifted their attention to the matter at hand,  As Seven coached encouragingly, the captain firmed her jaw and with great concentration, a steely glint appearing in her grey gaze, strands of auburn hair sticking to her forehead from the sweat, Janeway set about obeying the Doctor's demand, bearing down. Before long, though it seemed like forever for the participants, their second child was delivered, though it seemed to take a great deal more effort than the first.

"A girl, five pounds, ten ounces," the Doctor announced with satisfaction as the screams filled the air, seeming even louder than the other who had abruptly quieted, no doubt overwhelmed by the newcomer's lusty lung power.

"Well," Janeway noted as Sek deposited the two babies into her arms, staring down at the two little wrinkled faces with weary joy. From the reserve which had served her so many times before, Seven saw her partner draw up the energy to be completely alert and intent on the situation. "That was easy."

Seven, who could no longer flex the fingers of her left implant, considered that to be the second single most inaccurate thing the captain had ever said to her. But when she looked down at her spouse cradled in her arms, and the two tiny forms of her children, she forgot everything else, believing her heart must surely explode from all this emotion. Tentatively, she touched the little heads, too overcome to speak. Kathryn looked up at her and smiled in a way Seven had never seen before, and the Borg returned it, unaware that her entire face was lit up as if from some glow deep within.

The Doctor and Sek finished cleaning up as the parents, grandparent and new aunt examined the offspring intently, counting all the fingers and toes, cooing over the rest of the absurdly tiny body parts. Then the Doctor leaned over the captain. "Are you ready for a few visitors?" he asked quietly. "We've got some anxious people out there."

"Only a few," Seven said warningly, her eyes sparking as every protective instinct fiercely went on alert. "Perhaps B'Elanna and Tuvok."

"And Harry, Neelix, Tom and Chakotay," the captain added placidly. "They need to see this." She glanced up at Seven, smiling gently and Seven melted, unable to deny her anything she might want. "Tell them to bring in my coffee."

"No," Seven said, then softened instantly. "Later."

Janeway's brows came down, but she did not protest as the door opened and Voyager's prior senior staff crowded hesitantly into the room, their eyes wide and fearful as they took in the sight of their captain and her newest accomplishment.

"Hello my friends," Janeway said softly, smiling. "May I present the newest additions to our family." She looked down at the offspring cradled in each arm.

"On the left is Edward Magnus Janeway," she introduced huskily. "And on the right, Erin Gretchen Hansen."

Seven thought that this was the most supremely happy moment that she would ever experience in her life as she held her family in her arms, while all the people she loved in her life gathered round to help her celebrate. Captain Janeway glared at the Cirrilean officer, hands on her hips, her jaw set with stubborn ferocity. "I want to know where my crewmember is being held," she said in a voice that would have shattered granite. "And I want to know now!"

Apparently the Cirrileans were made from much stronger stuff than mere rock, or at least the head law enforcement officer was.

"Your crewmember is perfectly safe," he said in a bored tone. "She's with a Seer, having her future explained. She'll be back when she's done. I want to know who's going to pay for the damages your other crewmembers incurred."

"We didn't start anything," B'Elanna protested, then subsided immediately when Janeway shot her a look.

"If my people were at fault, we shall glad to make restitution," the captain said through clenched teeth. "In the meantime, I want to know where this Seer is."

"I've told you," the officer said. "The Seers are set up two blocks down, to the right. However, if your crewmember was picked out of the crowd as witnesses have stated, chances are she was taken to the Seer's personal space to have the reading done."

"Where would that be?" Janeway said with forced patience.

He shrugged. "Without knowing which Seer it was, it could be just about anywhere, couldn't it?" he said unhelpfully. "Now about these damages."

"Seven!" B'Elanna's voice cut thorough his demand.

Janeway turned, profoundly relieved to see the tall blond woman approaching the knot of people who were huddled in front of the tavern. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the disoriented expression in the pale face and the confusion in the gaze. She pushed people aside without ceremony, reaching out to take the young woman's hand in her own.

"Seven," she asked, schooling her voice into one of calm rationality, though it was difficult. "Are you all right?"

"I am ... functioning," Seven replied distantly. That was far from reassuring to her spouse. Seven only used such terminology when she wasn't entirely sure what she was experiencing or feeling.

"I think we need to get back to the ship," Janeway said firmly, touching her comm badge.

"What about these damages?" the officer yelped.

"We will address them with your government," Janeway said in a steely tone. "Commander Chakotay, six to beam up. Recall the rest of the crew on shore leave."

"Understood," her first officer responded immediately and Janeway released Seven's hand, feeling the sparkle and hum of the transporter sweep her up to deposit her in the confines of transporter room one.

"Tuvok, oversee the replication of the currency needed to pay for our purchases," she instructed as she stepped down off the dais. "Throw in some extra to cover any damages that might have occurred, along with our official apology for disturbing their peace." She shot a glance at B'Elanna, Tom and Harry who were doing their best to blend in with the hull. "You three are on report until I get this straightened out. Regardless of who started what, I expect better of my people than to find them brawling in the streets like common thugs." Her face softened as she regarded Seven who was standing at attention on the transporter pad. "I want you to go to sickbay, Seven. Get checked out. I'll meet you there as soon as I'm finished."

"I will comply," Seven responded coolly and stepped neatly off the dais, disappearing out the door without a backward glance.

Profoundly worried, Janeway looked after her until she was interrupted by the tentatively cleared voice of her chief engineer. She turned a force six level 'look' on B'Elanna, blinking as she saw the fuzzy blue creature in her hand.

"Uh, Seven got this for Naomi's birthday," the Klingon said hesitantly. "Where do you want it?"

"Bringing biological organisms on board without the proper clearance is against regulations," Janeway snapped.

"You may put it with the one the captain purchased," Tuvok said in the next breath, handing the greenish furball to B'Elanna who clearly did not know what to do with either of them.

With a supreme effort of will, Janeway kept the flush surrounding her neck from creeping up into her face. "Take them to sickbay as well," she said in a chill tone. "The Doctor needs to clear them before we release them to general confines of the ship."

"Yes, ma'am," B'Elanna said respectfully as she and her two cohorts made a hasty exit.

Janeway looked sardonically at her security chief. "You enjoyed that," she accused.

"Captain?" he responded blandly, an eyebrow raising slightly.

"Never mind," she said, heading for the door as he followed imperturbably. "Let's go to the bridge. I have some more negotiating to do."

An hour later, with the situation involving the Cirrileans finally settled and her ship once more on course for the Alpha Quadrant, Janeway made her way down to sickbay. She was amused and not a little relieved to find the Doctor and, apparently, a fully recovered Seven frowning over the box containing the B'Rethna. She quirked an eyebrow as she saw her partner pick one up, the green one, and stroke it gently, an oddly tender expression on her face.

"I see we had the same idea," she offered softly as she quietly joined the Borg next to the cage.. Seven looked over, blinking as if surprised by the captain's abrupt appearance.

"I thought Naomi would like one for her birthday," Seven explained.

"I did, too," Janeway said. "They are cute, aren't they?"

"They are vermin," the Doctor said succinctly.

"Doctor?" Janeway frowned at him and he raised an eyebrow.

"They can eat practically anything organic, breed quickly, and from what I understand, most Cirrileans can't give them away," he explained.

"I purchased it in a shop," the captain said slowly. "The proprietress said they make excellent pets."

"I'm sure they do," the Doctor said. "They're fairly nonaggressive as adults ... once they've bonded."

"Wait," Janeway said, holding up an elegant finger. "Start from the beginning. Why do you call them vermin?"

"Because they don't serve a purpose," he said. "Unlike cats and dogs which were initially domesticated to serve humanity, these are more like rats, some of which also make good pets, but normally have the reputation for carrying disease and overrunning an abode in short order." He quirked an eye. "I trust you didn't pay too much for them."

Janeway stubbornly remained silent, as Seven gently put the creature down in the box. "Are they truly harmful?" the Borg asked, disappointment coloring her tone.

"No," he said. "Keep them fed and bonded and they're very affectionate as a rule. Let 'em run loose to grow up unbonded, they'll become vicious, overpopulate, and feed off whatever they can find." He leaned over and eyed them narrowly. "You'll have to keep these two apart. The blue one's female. The green one's a male."

"Oh god," Janeway said, rubbing her forehead. "I don't think Naomi can look after both."

"She won't have to," the Doctor noted. "The blue one's already bonded to B'Elanna."

"How did that happen?" Janeway said, staring at him. "And what does it mean exactly?"

"Apparently, while they're still young, they can be imprinted onto another species," the Doctor said and when he realized that was not clear to the captain either, he sighed. "They form packs or herds, led by a head female. By tasting the leader's blood, they determine their group dynamics. It's something genetic, I'm sure, and any exobiologist could spend an entire career studying them, but the consensus is, if they're acquired at a young enough age, they can be induced to bite their owner whereupon they form a pack bond with that person. That is, apparently, what makes them such good pets." He nodded at the blue creature which was up on its hind legs, the front ones braced against the side of the box, its tiny nose quivering inquisitively as it regarded Seven. "That one bit B'Elanna down on the planet. It's hers now."

"Does B'Elanna know this?" Seven asked anxiously.

The Doctor looked faintly smug. "No, but I do want to be there when you tell her," he said.

"I don't know if I like the idea of something taking a bite out of Naomi, regardless of the reason," Janeway said. "That's hardly any way to celebrate a birthday."

"I have a sample of Naomi's blood on file," he said. "I can give it to the creature, and it will be bonded to her automatically ... provided that is what you want. We can always dispose of both of them before Naomi ever sees them."

Janeway saw the expression that came over Seven's face, and she held up a hand, forestalling the protest. "If it will make a good pet, and it's not harmful, then imprint it with Naomi's genetic pattern," she said. "The other one is apparently B'Elanna's to do with as she wishes." She paused. "Inform her that I really don't want to know if she decides not to keep it."

"Yes, Captain," he said. Then he frowned. "In any event, I wish to discuss with you this idea that I am now the ship's veterinarian, as well as the Chief Medical Officer. I don't remember applying for the position."

Janeway eyed him briefly. "You didn't apply for CMO either," she reminded him wryly with a bit of a shrug. "By the way, Jake's due for his shots. I'll bring him by tomorrow."

The Doctor looked disgruntled but did not say anything further, casting a final disgusted look on the pair of them before disappearing into his office where his assistant, Sek was busy at her desk. Janeway's grin faded as she looked at her partner who was idly observing the creatures as they scampered about the box. Moving closer to Seven, the captain slid her arm around the slender waist.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently.

Seven looked up at her blankly. Then, she blinked and nodded. "I am adequate," she said.

"What happened down there?" the captain asked.

Seven frowned slightly, shaking her head. "I ... spoke with a Seer," she said slowly. "She read my future."

Janeway took a breath. "You didn't tell anyone where you were going," she said. "B'Elanna was ... worried. I know you're an adult, but she seemed to think it was very uncharacteristic of you."

Seven nodded. "It was," she admitted. "I am still not entirely sure why I went with the female, but I was not harmed, and eventually returned to where I had left B'Elanna."

"I see," Janeway said. She tilted her head, studying her partner closely. Such imprecision was not at all like the young woman. "What did you talk about?"

"She predicted my future," Seven said quietly. "I shall make a decision soon, and there will be two possible outcomes, one beneficial, the other ... not."

Janeway considered that. "Oh," she said slowly. "Sounds like routine procedure when it comes to fortune telling. Do this, and something good happens, do something else and bad things happens. What was the decision?"

"I do not know," Seven replied, and for the first time, a hint of distress crept into the Borg's voice.

Janeway tightened her hold on her partner. "Darling, it's just a form of entertainment," she said comfortingly. "You can't take it seriously."

Seven looked at her anxiously, and Janeway felt a bit of a chill as she saw the bleakly hopeful expression. "Really?" the young woman asked in a small voice.

"Really," Janeway said firmly. Obviously this mystical mumbo jumbo had disturbed her spouse ... perhaps because it was so out of the realm of the Borg's knowledge. She was quick to cast the sharp light of logic on it to clear away Seven's misconceptions. "That's why she didn't tell you what the decision was going to be. It's deliberately kept vague, otherwise it would quickly be proven to be false. It's just a form of illusion, darling. It doesn't mean anything at all."

The captain thought Seven seemed profoundly relieved by this ... too relieved ... and Janeway wondered exactly what the fortune teller had told the young woman. However, she didn't have much time to think about it because there was a sudden jolt that shifted the deck beneath their feet, and she sprinted for the door, Seven at her heels, even as the call came over her comm badge.

"Captain Janeway to the bridge. We're under attack."

Seven took her position at the aft auxiliary tactical console, keying in the sensors to scan the immediate area around the ship. On the fore viewscreen, a multitudes of small vessels swooped about Voyager, firing at the shields.

"Pirates," Janeway said in a voice of utter disgust as she took her place in her command chair. This was not the first time the Federation vessel had run into a ragtag band of the bandits which infested this area of space. "Evasive maneuvers. Ready phaser banks. Get their attention, Tuvok."

At his tactical station, the Vulcan's dark hands moved over his board, sending beams of energy out to intersect the nearest ships, penetrating their makeshift shields and knocking them out of the battle. But unlike before when the display of firepower dissuaded the rest, it only seemed to enrage this band, increasing their attack. The returning fire jolted the ship, sent it heeling about.

"Hail them," Janeway snapped, her hair flying about her face. "Broad bandwidth. This is Captain Janeway of USS Voyager. Break off your attack or be destroyed."

"No response," Harry said from his ops post.

"They never learn," Paris muttered as he keyed in the course adjustments to avoid the worst of the barrage.

Seven heard her partner take a deep breath, knowing that Janeway really did not want to fire back at the pirates. Voyager had discovered that for these nomads raiding the space lanes, piracy was a normal way of life, and many of the vessels contained women and children, entire families living on each ship. Despite her threatening hail, Janeway would avoid destroying them if at all possible.

"Get us out of here, Tom," the captain said.

"Trying to," he said. "There's a lot of them. More than last time."

"Captain, sensors detect a nebula off the port bow," Seven noted. "We could lose them easily in there. Their sensors would be useless."

Janeway nodded. "Do it," she said. "Set a course, Mr. Paris."

Seven noted that the pirates melted away as Voyager leaped forward, heading for the nebula which was full of sensor blanking radiation and ... Seven frowned, running another sweep. There were anomalous readings, slight fluctuations which could indicate random bursts of harmless energy discharges ... or warp signatures. She hesitated, looking from her board to the captain. If she said anything, then Janeway would turn back into the oncoming path of the pursuing pirates, the known threat. If she kept quiet, they would enter the dust cloud in ten minutes to face ... the unknown.

A hard decision had to be made ... what would be the outcome? A sick sensation rose in her chest as Seven ran another scan. Still undetermined. She swallowed hard, looking at her board with quiet desperation. Kathryn had said the whole thing was a falsehood. Who should she believe? A strange female with prophecies of doom ... or her partner?

Seven cleared her throat. "Captain, I am picking up anomalous readings from the nebula," she said. "They may mean nothing ... or they may be warp signatures. I am unable to get a clear scan."

Janeway stood up, turning to face her. The blue-grey eyes narrowed as she stared at her, then she glanced over her shoulder at Tom. "Anyone between us and the nebula?" she asked.

Paris shook his head. "It's a clear shot," he told her.

"Almost as if they were herding us there," Janeway said slowly, thoughtfully. She nodded briefly. "Hard about. It's a trap."

Immediately, Paris threw Voyager into a 180 degree turn, flying back into the pursuing vessels who increased their firepower. A conduit near the front of the bridge exploded as the energy beams sent a backwash along the circuits. Janeway stood tall on lower deck and on the viewscreen, a tiny ship appeared, apparently unable to veer away in time. Seven grasped her console with white knuckles, willing Tom to maneuver around the laboring vessel, but the analytical part of her brain instantly calculated the necessary vectors and realized there simply wasn't enough room.

Suddenly it was as if everything was in slow motion with Seven unable to move fast enough. She wanted to scream at her partner, tell her to brace herself, to sit down, but there wasn't time. Voyager shuddered under the impact, the greater vessel simply demolishing the tiny pirate ship as it smashed through, and both the integrity field and shields flickered, briefly going down before surging back to a half of their former strength. The bridge crew were flung violently fore and starboard, Seven smashing into her tactical display so hard she felt her ribs, reinforced by Borg metal, creak under the blow. Harry slammed into the aft panel while Tuvok required all his Vulcan strength to hang onto his console. Tom Paris and Chakotay, sitting in chairs, were protected by the braces but Janeway, unsupported by anything, was catapulted across the lower level, crashing into the science station.

Chakotay was the first to reach her, hitting his comm badge. "Emergency inter-ship transport, bridge to sickbay."

"Unable to comply," the computer responded placidly. "Transporter systems are off line."

"I have her," Seven said in a voice completely unlike her own, shoving the first officer aside as she picked up her partner and sprinted for the turbolift.

Please no, she prayed over and over as the lift seemed to take forever. Don't let this happen.

Kathryn's blood spilt hot over Seven's arms and hands as she staggered into sickbay, her breath coming in stabs of agony, her ribs aching but she dared not let it slow her. The medical bay was chaos, the biobeds filled by casualties with more arriving all the time, and she carried her partner across the room.

"Doctor," she screamed.

He looked up from a patient, and his face blanched when he saw who Seven was carrying. "Here, Seven," he said urgently as Sek, his medical assistant, helped a less injured patient off the bed to a nearby chair. Seven lay Janeway down with exquisite care, feeling helpless and terrified as she saw how Kathryn's head lolled impossibly limp on her neck.

Just as it had in her vision.

"Step aside, Seven," the Doctor instructed, nudging the Borg away as he bent over Voyager's commander.

Seven stood with her hands clenched, watching as a sick fear rose in her throat like acid, her breath coming in pants. It seemed an eternity before the Doctor paused in his ministrations, shot her a look, then straightened and shut off his tricorder.

"No," Seven said in a barely audible voice.

"I have other patients who need me," the Doctor said.

"But my nanoprobes," she began. "We can restore her---"

"Seven, calm down," he said, reaching out to grip her arms tightly.

"No," she screamed as she struggled against his hold and it was only the fact that he was a hologram that her left hand was not ripping his right arm off at the shoulder. "I have to go to her. I have to save her."

"Sek," he cried.

Seven frantically tried to pull away from his grip, tried to lean away from the other hologram who pressed a hypospray against the Borg's neck. Then there was only darkness. Janeway struggled up through the cloying thickness of darkness, hearing screams and knowing they were her partner's. With an formidable effort, the captain opened her eyes, looking around dazedly to see the Doctor struggling with the Borg. Sek pressed a hypospray against the young woman's neck, and Seven slumped bonelessly into the Doctor's arms.

"What the hell's going on here?" Janeway said groggily, rolling off the bed unsteadily. She noted with vague interest that her uniform tunic was covered with blood, and she wondered whose it was.

"I don't know, Captain," the Doctor said worriedly as he and Sek got Seven onto the bed Janeway had just vacated. "She became hysterical. If I wasn't a hologram, she would have ripped me apart."

"Take it slow, Captain," Sek advised, steadying Janeway as she tottered. "You took a heavy blow."

"What am I doing here?" Janeway mumbled.

"You were injured on the bridge," the Doctor said impatiently. "Your nanoprobes repaired most of the damage before Seven brought you here, however. If you don't mind, I have patients who don't have that advantage." He strode off to help a crewmember from engineering who had just stumbled through the door, supported by two others who were also banged up.

Janeway hesitated, looking at her partner laying unconscious on the bed, crimson staining the Borg's arms and hands.

"Go," Sek said from the other side of the bunk. "The sedative I administered will keep her under for hours. You've recovered from your injuries, and they need you on the bridge."

Janeway took a breath, then nodded and hurried for the door. In the turbolift, she brushed ineffectually at the blood drying on her chest, and tried not to fidget as the lift seemed to take forever to rise to the command center.

I'm going to have to find a way to increase their speed, Janeway thought irritably. What a rotten day this is turning out to be ... and it had started out so well. She was trying very hard not to think about what had just happened in sickbay regarding the microscopic Borg nanoprobes she had picked up while assimilated several months back. Though she recognized the fact that they were apparently becoming more ... efficient ... the longer she had them in her body. She shuddered delicately and forced the foreboding thoughts to the back of her mind.

Chakotay barely flickered as she strode briskly from the bridge, apparently content to accept she was the indestructable sort. Of course, he had always had that attitude towards her, only contradicting her in extreme situations.

"Report," she demanded.

"We got through them," he said, eyeing the blood on her uniform narrowly. "There were ships in the nebula. They joined in on the attack when we blasted through the rear line, but they were too far away to catch us. It was a good call by Seven." He hesitated. "Speaking of which, how is it that she carried you to sickbay, but only you came back?"

"My injuries weren't as bad as everyone thought," she said shortly. She did not explain where Seven was at the moment. Unless he asked, she'd keep that to herself until she was better able to figure out what was going on. "Damage?"

"Transporters and communications have been disrupted," Tuvok said. "Repair teams are working on them now. A conduit on deck two was fused by an overload. Lt. Torres is working on it."

"Casualties?"

"Unknown as of yet," Chakotay replied. He glanced at her. "What did it look like in sickbay?"

"Busy," she responded succinctly. She regarded the monitor between their respective command chairs, scaning the rest of the damage reports now coming in. When the casualty report finally appeared, she knew things had eased enough for the Doctor or Sek to collect the data and send it to the bridge. She released a barely audible sigh of relief. "No fatalities."

Chakotay tapped the screen over the name. "Sedated?" He frowned as he regarded her.

Janeway shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted finally, "but I'm beginning to think that a lot more happened on that planet than just Seven having her fortune read. When she wakes up, she and I are going to have to have a long talk."

"That might be a good idea," he allowed as the pair of them set to work, taking inventory of the repair requirements, and channeling personnel and resources to those areas.

The hours passed, and it was shading into the gamma shift when the last of the immediate repairs were made. Janeway stretched wearily as the turbolift carried her down to sickbay, feeling exhaustion tug at her insistently. The lights were dim in the medical center as she walked in, signifying night watch though she noted that a few of the patients were still awake, reading quietly or just working from padds by the single illuminations over each biobed. She stopped at each crewmember still awake, offering an encouraging word here, a comforting pat there. Then she came to the bed where her partner lay under a single sheet.

Gently, she stroked her fingertips along the smooth cheek, looking down at the narrow features with concern, seeing that they did not seem peaceful, even while Seven was unconscious.

"We're keeping a monitor on her," Sek said softly, drifting out from the office. "Her nanoprobes are fighting off the sedative. She should regain consciousness sooner than we anticipated."

"They are tenacious little things, aren't they?" Janeway said with a rueful sigh. She raised an eyebrow as Seven stirred, a soft sound issuing from the full lips, and the captain leaned over her. "Annika, wake up."

Seven's eyelids fluttered, then opened, the pale blue confused and muddled, clearing to stare at the captain above her. She made another sound, one of fear and dismay, then shockingly, she started to cry. Horrified, Janeway gathered her up into her arms, rocking her gently. "Hey," she murmured, gratified when Sek drifted discretely away. She felt completely helpless, with no clue as to what this was all about. "It's okay, darling."

"I thought you were dead," Seven choked on her sobs, clinging to her partner.

"Well, I'm not," Janeway responded, mightily disturbed at Seven's emotional disarray. She hugged her spouse gingerly, wishing they were not in sickbay, though the alert patients had diplomatically turned so that they were looking away from the couple. "Are you ready to come home?" she asked, wanting to move this to a more private location.

With an effort, Seven composed herself and nodded, sniffing hard. Janeway helped her off the bed, and with a nod to Sek, they left sickbay. Janeway kept a comforting hand on Seven's elbow as they walked through the corridors, and once inside their quarters, she watched as Seven knelt to greet Jake who had rushed up to his mistresses, patting him sadly.

"I am so sorry, Jake," the Borg told him in a tone of despair. "I abandoned you."

Janeway had no idea what that meant, knowing only that her partner was acting completely unlike herself. "Talk to me, darling," she requested, putting her hands lightly on Seven's shoulders. "What's going on here?"

Seven inhaled, obviously fighting tears as she stood up. She turned, reaching out for Janeway, holding her tightly as she buried her face into the captain's hair. "It was horrible, Kathryn," she said in a choked voice. "I lost you. I had to live without you."

Janeway returned the hug, confused at the words, but aware that her partner was hurting. "It's all right, darling," she responded softly. "It's over." She stroked the young woman's back gently. "Does any of this relate to what happened to you on the planet?" She felt Seven nod in the hollow of her shoulder, and she pulled her closer. "Darling, we need to go over and sit down on the couch. We need to talk about this."

"Very well," Seven replied in a tiny voice.

Worried, Janeway took Seven's hands and drew her over to the sofa, sitting down with her. She was barely seated, however, before Seven had crawled onto her lap ... literally. The Borg turned so that she had her arms wrapped around the captain's neck, her torso resting across Janeway's, her knees tucked up against the captain's side. Janeway felt buried as Seven began to weep once more with helpless, hopeless sobs, apparently unable to stop.

"You died, Kathryn," Seven kept mumbling through her tears. "You died and I had to live. Please don't make me go on without you. Please don't ask that of me."

Mystified, Janeway wrapped her arms around her partner and held her as close as she could, pressing her cheek against Seven's, feeling the tears soak her face. "Shh," she murmured soothingly. "I'm right here, darling. I'm not going anywhere, it's all right, my love."

Yet, still Seven cried and Janeway was very much afraid that Seven was sliding into hysteria again. She did not at all relish the thought of having to deal with a hysterical Borg without a handy sedative around.

"Annika, listen to me," she said, firming her voice, bringing a touch of command discipline into it. "Listen to my heartbeat. Listen to me breathe. I'm right here. I'm alive. But I can't help you until you calm down."

Janeway kept repeating this over and over, rubbing the young woman's back and gradually, Seven began to quiet. The captain did not press for an explanation immediately; instead, she just continued to hold her, telling her how much she loved her, that she would never leave her. A promise, she knew that was truly beyond her power to make, but knowing it needed to be said anyway. Finally, Seven rested quietly in her arms, listening intently to Janeway's chest, her fingers pressed lightly against the pulse point at the captain's throat, her body still shaking with an occasional sob, but able to speak coherently.

"Take your time," Janeway instructed. "Tell me slowly."

"I saw a woman across the street," Seven whispered after a long moment. "She was Human."

Janeway savagely clamped down on the questions that immediately rose to her lips, knowing that now was not the time to ask them. "Go on," she said gently, encouragingly.

"She walked towards me and..." Seven faltered. "I do not know what happened. The next thing I remember is being in a room with her, and she was not Human anymore, she was Cirrilean. She put down a card, and said it signified a decision that I would make soon." Seven swallowed hard, and Janeway waited patiently, not rushing her. "Then she told me to choose a card to see the future which would result from making the decision. I turned over another card ... it was dark, frightening and suddenly I was on Voyager."

She paused and Janeway stroked the long blond hair tenderly, content to wait for her. After a moment, Seven continued.

"It was exactly what happened," Seven whispered. "Except you died. I wanted to die as well but no one would let me. You had made me promise not to ... so I tried to live." She began to cry again. "I tried so very hard, Kathryn, but it hurt so much. I cannot live without you. Please do not make me."

"Shh, it's all right," Janeway whispered. "I'm right here, darling."

Wondering how quickly she could turn Voyager around, beam down to Cirrilea, track this Seer down and personally eviscerate her. With a very dull knife.

"Annika, I'm not dead, I'm right here," she said again, hoping that repeating it enough would somehow make it possible for Seven to believe it because for some reason, her partner was having a lot of trouble with that concept at the moment. "Shh, darling, listen to my heartbeat."

Finally, Seven was able to go on. "I lived without you for months, Kathryn," she said, and now her voice was confused, lost. "It felt like months. It felt like it had really happened ... was really going to happen." She trailed off, obviously unable to come up with the words and tenses to explain it properly.

Janeway hugged her tightly. "It was an illusion, Annika," she said persuasively. "Some form of mental projection."

"You were injured, just as you were in the vision," Seven protested raggedly. "It was exactly what happened."

"But I'm not dead, darling," Janeway reminded her. She hesitated, then added dryly, "This Seer was apparently unaware of my nanoprobes."

Seven was silent, breathing harshly. "Or perhaps ... I made the right decision," she said finally. "This time."

Janeway frowned. She didn't like the way that sounded at all.

Seven started to get upset again. "I could have chosen incorrectly," she sobbed. "I could have killed you."

"Stop this!" Janeway said with a snap to her tone, her patience finally eroding. "Annika, it's over. I'm alive." Janeway took a breath, controlling her anger which wasn't really at Seven at all, but the unknown alien who had frightened the young woman so badly. She gentled her voice as she pulled her spouse closer. "Annika," she told her. "We make decisions all the time. You can't second guess yourself like this ... it will destroy you."

"I do not know what to do, Kathryn," Seven said finally, in a very small, terrified voice.

Neither did Janeway, at this point. This had been so unexpected, coming so far out of the blue that she wasn't entirely sure how to react as the young woman's partner. She did know how to react as a captain however, and she gently kissed Seven on the temple to soften what she had to say next.

"Annika, I need you to take the next few days off while we work this out," she ordered quietly.

Seven knew exactly what her lover was getting at. "You do not wish for me to be placed in a position where I must make a decision and hesitate, thereby endangering the ship," she noted, then bowed her head, adding sadly; "Perhaps that is for the best."

Janeway would have preferred it if Seven had been furious with her at giving her such an order. This defeated acceptance was a profoundly disturbing reaction. "We'll figure this out," she insisted, trying to convince herself as much as Seven. "It will just take some time."

"I am sorry, Kathryn," Seven whispered. "I am letting you down."

"No, my darling," Janeway said firmly. "You never let me down. You're just going through a rough patch. We'll get through this."

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven said softly. "That is why this is hurting me so much."

"I know, Annika," Janeway told her gently. "I love you too." She inhaled slowly and blinked, glancing at the large grandfather clock which sat against the wall by the bedroom door. An antique, it had been set to reflect the ship's time. "It's 0233," she suggested gently. "Let's turn in, and try for a fresh perspective tomorrow."

She was relieved when Seven agreed, and they untangled themselves from the couch, retiring to the bedroom. The captain kept a worried eye on her partner as they prepared for bed, but it did seem to her that Seven was a little less upset, if only because she wouldn't have to make any decisions for the next few days. Janeway climbed between the sheets, unsurprised when Seven immediately wrapped her up in her arms, holding on to her tightly.

"I did not tell you about the rest," the Borg said softly into the captain's ear.

Janeway winced. "Oh dear, there's more?" she said weakly, trying to steel herself.

"It was the other outcome of the decision, the future where you did not ... die," Seven explained. "We were on Earth, in your mother's house. You were pregnant and we were celebrating the second anniversary of Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant. Your water broke in the middle of the celebration."

Janeway took a moment to absorb that. "Sounds unforgettable," Janeway said dryly. She hesitated, then had to ask. "What did I have, a boy or a girl?"

"Yes," Seven said.

"Yes?" Janeway asked, raising an eyebrow. "Could you be a little more specific?"

Seven hesitated. "I was," she said, then relented at Janeway's expression. "You had a multiple birth, a boy and a girl." The Borg paused. "It was more effective to combine the two required offspring than have you conduct two separate pregnancies."

Janeway was silent. "Oh," she said finally. Then despite her best effort, she smiled. "I'm sorry, darling," she said finally. "You're just so damned efficient, even in your pursuit of mysticism."

Seven sighed. "It is interesting," she allowed, and Janeway saw the Borg smile ruefully. "I must inform you that I did not find you at all pleasant while you were giving birth."

"I'll bet," Janeway said. She took a breath and considered it. "Why did that other future affect you more than this one did? This one sounds wonderful."

Seven took a while before she responded. "I do not know," she said finally. "It just did."

"All right," Janeway said, leaving it for the time being.

There was another pause, longer this time. "Thank you, Kathryn," Seven said softly. "For helping me."

Janeway yawned sleepily. "That's the point, darling," she said, snuggling close. "I'm here for you, you're here for me. That's why they call it marriage."

"Oh," Seven said. Clearly she had not known that. "Good night, Kathryn," she added quietly.

"Good night, my love," Janeway responded. She brushed her lips over Seven's before settling against her, feeling the younger woman relax finally.

Hoping that whatever sleep they could get would grant them a greater clarity because at the moment, Janeway was totally stymied as to how to help her partner with this one. Commander Chakotay looked up from his book curiously as the chime to his door sounded. Though he was the ad hoc ship's counselor, people were not in the habit of visiting him in his quarters, tending to respect that as his own, perhaps because he made himself so available in the rest of the ship. Where the captain tended to eat in her cabin or ready room, Chakotay always ate in the messhall; where Janeway tended to limit her social interaction to a select few, he could be as easily found hanging out in a Jeffries tube with some of the maintenance crew as having dinner with the senior staff.

So he was very surprised to see the captain at his door.

"Please, have a seat," he invited, gesturing to the sofa beneath the windows lining the hull.

She did so, with a great deal more formality than he was used to seeing from her. It was almost as if she was uncomfortable being here in his quarters, and he realized that whatever had brought her here was of a personal nature.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "No, thank you," she said. Then hesitated. "I need some advice regarding Seven."

"How can I help?" he asked immediately, a compassionate expression on his face. He knew something had been up, first by that odd need to sedate Seven after that encounter with the pirates, then the fact that the Borg had yet to return to duty three days later. Perhaps now he'd find out why he had been forced to reroute personnel to cover astrometrics.

She favored him with a brief smile, clearly attempting to figure out the best way to broach the subject. Janeway did not usually come to him with personal problems. Ship's business, yes, but for any situations involving her love life, she inevitably took such discussions to Tuvok. In the beginning, Chakotay had been a little hurt by that, and could not for the life of him figure out why she suddenly considered the Vulcan to be more of an expert on Human relationships than he. He had come to realize finally that she just required a certain amount of logical distance when discussing  personal details, and certainly, she could not get that from him. Emotionless, he would never be. Not to mention the fact that he had teased her about her relationship at times which, although she returned with good natured jousts, may have made her a trifle hesitant about bringing any such problems to him.

"Seven's going through a bit of a crisis," she said slowly. She took several moments to explain what Seven had told her about her experience on the planet's surface. Her eyes were full of distress when she finished. "I know that you deal with this sort of ... mystical prophecy and visions in your private life. Do you have any suggestions on how I could make her more ... comfortable with these insights into the future? Which may or may not even be accurate."

He settled back in his chair, regarding her with a frown. "Honestly, Kathryn," he said. "I'm not entirely sure why she's upset by the thought of these two futures. Clearly it seems she made the correct decision and now you two will go on to a happy life together which includes children." He tried not to imagine the captain giving birth. Her details about that future were a trifle sketchy, but that only meant his imagination had been given free rein to roam ... and he had a very good imagination.

Janeway sighed. "I know," she explained. "But now she is so afraid that she could make a decision which could result in my death, that she can't make any decisions at all. She's stopped functioning. That's why she's been pulled from duty, and why she's remaining in our quarters. I don't know how to help her."

"I see," Chakotay said, considering this. "Maybe it's not the vision that's bothering her." When she looked at him, he tried to elaborate, thinking his way through it slowly. "This seems more about what the vision allowed her to experience."

"My death," Janeway said.

"No," he said carefully. "Her life after your death. She sounds terrified of that. Terrified enough that she doesn't even want to risk it."

"I'm not sure of the difference," she said, regarding him with puzzlement.

He spread his hands. "A big difference, Kathryn," he said. "We all live with death, particularly out here in space. That possibility is a constant reality where only the thickness of a ship's hull, and our own good judgement keep us from oblivion."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oblivion?" she repeated as if surprised. "You don't believe in an existence beyond death?"

He nodded. "Yes, I do," he said. "Do you?"

Janeway hesitated, considering it. "Not in any formal way," she said finally. "Not from making a conscious decision about it but yes, I do think there is an existence beyond death, though whether anyone truly has an honest idea of what that really is can be debated."

He nodded. "Does Seven?" he asked bluntly.

She took a breath. "I don't know," she admitted. "If we discussed it ... I don't remember it."

"Perhaps you should," he suggested gently. "It seems like Seven isn't so much afraid of death ... hers or yours ... as she is of living ... particularly living without you. I have the impression that you've made her promise to carry on should you die before her."

Janeway looked pensive. "I can't honestly say that I extracted any such agreement from her," she said. Her level grey eyes met his squarely. "But if I have, surely she knows it's because I only want what's best for her."

"Is it?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "Or is it just what you believe she should do? You're a pretty powerful influence on all of us, Kathryn. You must be even more of an influence on her, and if you indicate that she has to go on, then she would do her utmost not to disappoint you, but would it be the best thing for her? You're her whole existence, Kathryn. Take that away, and I don't know that she would have anything worth living for."

Janeway frowned, as if annoyed by such a conclusion. "She's more self assured than that, Chakotay," she said in a harder tone. "She's perfectly capable of surviving without me."

He made a face. "You think?" he said. "Or is that something you're just assuming, Kathryn because you haven't looked deep enough?"

She raised her chin, her eyes growing dark. "Would you care to elaborate on that?" she asked, and her voice had dropped a degree. "Obviously you have an opinion on this."

He rested his big hands on his knees. "Kathryn, you believe in life above all," he said. "Particularly for others, and you think that life is worth fighting for to the bitter end. I remember how disappointed you were when the Q who wished to be mortal just for the sake of being able to die, took just that path in the end."

Janeway exhaled slowly. "I do think life is worth fighting for," she said. "Otherwise, what's the point?"

"I can't argue with you," he said. "Yet what if life is empty, where it has no quality to it whatsoever? I think that I would like to die in that event. I know I would never give up my right to decide for myself to someone else, but then, I wasn't raised by the Borg where I followed the will of the Collective to the exclusion of all other concerns."

She shook her head, obviously keeping a rein on her temper. He could see the flash in her eyes which indicated she didn't agree with him at all, but when she spoke, it was with deceptive mildness. Never a good sign with her.

"I think you're underestimating Seven's individuality," she said. "You're not giving her credit for how far she has come from that Borg drone."

He sensed he was losing her willingness to listen, and he plowed forward insistently. "Kathryn, I realize that I was one of Seven's detractors in the beginning," he said. "That's not what's going on here. I know she's come a hell of a long way. I also know she's got a hell of a long way to go, which perhaps you don't see because you're in love with her. You only see her as the person she can be, see all the potential she has. You have always seen her that way. But I can see her as the damaged soul she still is, and when I say that you're her whole existence at this point in her life, I'm not disparaging her. It's just the truth."

He leaned forward, looking at her intently. "If you had been anyone else, Kathryn," he said. "Anyone less than who you are, not only would this relationship you have not work, I suspect Seven never would have made the strides she had in becoming a functioning Human being. You were the perfect person for her, just as, ironically enough, she was the perfect person for you. That doesn't change the fact, however, that who she is now is very much due to how she sees herself through your eyes. She will give you the right to take away her choices whether it's correct or not. I'm not saying she will a year from now or five years, or ten years, but right now, if you tell her that she is not allowed to kill herself if you die, then she'll do her damndest to obey. Even if it means she has to spend an existence of utter misery without you. And it would be utter misery for her, Kathryn. Don't kid yourself."

Janeway was silent, regarding him darkly. "I suspect that you are allowing yourself to be unduly influenced by romantic notions," she said finally. "The thought of killing one's self just because the person they love dies is not .... practical!" That was not the word she wanted, obviously, by the way she spat it out, but it was the closest she could come up with.

Chakotay stifled the humorless laugh.

"Life isn't practical," he said firmly. "Neither is love. If I remember correctly, you didn't exactly fight for life when you thought Seven had died that time we were transported to the Alpha Quadrant."

"But I carried on," Janeway insisted. "Not well, I admit. Losing people I love is hard for me, just as it is for everyone, but I knew deep down that if I had given up entirely, all possibilities for the future would have been lost. After all, I wouldn't have gotten Seven back if I had been so selfish as to promptly kill myself." She looked stubborn. "Seven will find a reason to live as well, especially if she gives herself the time to find it."

"But what if she doesn't?" Chakotay said. "What if she knows that being without you is so bleak and empty that to be condemned to it is nothing but a lifetime of torture?"

"You can't know that," she protested.

"But she does," he pointed out. "She lived it, Kathryn. She only imagined it in a vague sort of way before, but now she knows what it would really be like, and she considers it too much to bear."

"Killing herself is not the answer," Janeway said, standing up abruptly and pacing about the living area of his quarters. "It's never the answer. Even if it seems too much to bear at first, it can get better. She can't give up."

"But that's her choice, Kathryn," he insisted. He could be just as stubborn as she could when he wanted. "You're taking her choice away. Maybe you didn't do it consciously, but you've certainly done it by your attitude."

She looked at him angrily. "I've never considered you an advocate for suicide, Chakotay," she said.

"I'm not," he said simply. "But I do believe in quality of life. Like you, I think life is worth fighting for, but I also consider the alternative to be a valid choice in some cases. Sometimes death is better. It's her choice, Kathryn, not yours."

"This is insane," she cried, throwing up her hands. "I'm not even dead and you're saying that Seven should just kill herself in that event."

"I'm not saying that at all," he protested. "You just have to love her if she does decide that."

"But I'd be dead!" she shouted, and he realized how far out of control this had gotten, never knowing the captain to actually shout at him like that before.

He took several deep breaths as did Janeway, watching him. By mutual, unspoken consent they took a few moments to calm down; the captain slowly loosening each finger of her hands which had been balled into fists. Chakotay took the time to go over to the sink and splash some cold water on his face, looking at his reflection as he dried it with a towel, noting how high his color had become. When he turned, Janeway had reseated herself in the chair, composed, her hands linked on her lap.

"I don't want her to die, Chakotay," she said quietly. She hesitated. "I don't want her to suffer a lifetime of misery either, but I do believe that she can find a reason to appreciate life again after my death even though it may be difficult."

"Maybe she will," Chakotay said gently. "But you have to give her the chance to decide that on her own, Kathryn. You show her every moment of every day, just how wonderful life can be. Trust in that. Trust that if and when the time comes, that it will be enough to make her choose life. But don't force her into a promise that you have no right to ask her to make. Don't let her go on thinking her choices are not hers, that no matter what she does, she has no control over her future."

She looked at him bleakly. "Is that what I've done?" she said.

He sighed. "I know you never intended it," he said. "Honestly, you don't have that power ... not unless she gives it to you, but maybe she's not aware that she's passed the choice onto you. You're a pretty formidable lady, Kathryn. You just have to help her realize that whatever choice she makes, they will always be hers to make."

"I'm not sure I know how," she admitted softly.

"Just tell her you love her, Kathryn," he said. "Let her know that will never change, no matter what. Death be damned."

She regarded him evenly for a long time, then finally nodded. "All right," she said reluctantly. "I'll try."

"That's all one can ask anyone," he said gently. "To try." Seven stood in her living quarters, looking out at the stars which seemed to pass by. She knew the streaking lights were a distortion of the warp field surrounding the ship, but it seemed that if she could just reach out through the window, she could capture one of those little suns in the palm of her hand. Then perhaps she would offer it to her spouse for having let her down.

Seven didn't know why she was so frightened. She didn't know why the prospect of living without Kathryn was so immediate and so terrifying that her throat closed and her head pounded at just the thought. The knowledge that making a certain decision here, or a different one there, could possibly result in Janeway's death was absolutely crippling her, but she didn't know what to do. She only knew she couldn't go on this way.

The door hissed open and she tilted her head slightly. She did not have to look to recognize that it was her partner. She could feel Kathryn's presence surround her like a palpable thing, brushing against every millimeter of her flesh like a warm summer breeze. She had not asked where Janeway had been going, knowing only that the captain had needed to leave after yet another futile discussion on what the visions might actually have meant. Kathryn believed it all a form of illusion, a form a mental trickery, and that Seven was granting far too much importance to what was possibly just a coincidence. Seven, however, believed that what she had experienced was extremely real indeed, but very delicate, leaving her in a position where the slightest deviation would keep her from the bright future granting all her dreams, and leave her condemned to the dark future. The Borg had no real concept of hell, but then, Seven had no real concept of what being without Kathryn would really be like ... before Cirrilea.

Now she knew, and the knowledge was like a cancer, eating away at her. She did not react when Janeway wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling the captain rest her cheek against her back. She just closed her eyes, feeling very weary and not wanting to fight anymore.

"Forgive me," Kathryn said softly.

Seven opened her eyes in surprise. She had not expected an apology from her partner, only another attempt to convince her that she was being foolish. She took a breath and turned around, looking down into her lover's beloved features, seeing the soft grey of Janeway's eyes, the gentle look of regret about the sensitive mouth.

A muscle in Janeway's jaw twitched. "Annika, I was so busy trying to fix this, I didn't pay enough attention to what you were trying to tell me," she said quietly. "I'm truly sorry for that."

Seven lowered her eyes sadly. "I do not know what I was trying to tell you," she said. "I do not understand it myself."

"I know," Janeway responded. "But I shouldn't have assumed that I did." She drew back, bringing her hands down to take Seven's in her own. "Can we sit down and talk about this for a moment?"

Seven winced. "I do not wish to argue, Kathryn," she said.

"I don't either," Janeway responded sincerely, brushing her lips over Seven's cheek. "Please?"

Seven nodded reluctantly and they settled on the couch where Janeway turned towards the Borg, one leg tucked up under her thigh. The captain took a deep breath, and regarded her partner seriously.

"Annika, I love you and I won't lie to you," she said gently. "As hard as it would be to live without you, should you precede me in death, I'm going to choose to continue on. I might not do it particularly well, but I'll always try to keep functioning. That's just who I am. I realize, however, that perhaps I was forcing that choice on you when I didn't have that right."

Seven was silent, thinking about this very hard, trying to comprehend what her partner was telling her. It was certainly not about the visions, what they were, or what they might have really meant. This was something else entirely.

"Are you saying that I can ... follow you if you are to die first?" Seven asked finally.

"I'm saying that, while I hope you would choose life, it has to be your choice," Kathryn said softly. "We're all masters of our own fate, Annika. I do believe that. You have to choose what is best for you."

"You would be disappointed in me," Seven said sadly, but with absolute certainty. "If I chose not to live without you, I would fail you, fail your memory."

"Annika, if there's nothing beyond death," Kathryn said slowly, "then I would not be anything, least of all disappointed. If there is an existence beyond death, however, then I can't imagine that I would be doing anything in particular, but waiting for you ... however long it took. I would never be disappointed in you, no matter what you decide. Darling, I said that you've never let me down and I meant it. Even when I've been angry at you, even when I might not agree with you, or argued with you about them, in the end, I've always respected your choices. To do anything less would mean that I would not be worthy of being your partner." She hesitated. "I realize that maybe I haven't always made that clear to you, but it is the truth. I'll go on respecting your choices, even beyond death if there is such a thing."

Seven tried to wrap her mind around these concepts. "You do not accept death willingly," she said slowly, "for anyone except possibly yourself. Yet, even then, when you say you're willing to die for something, you do not. You find a way to survive." She took a deep breath. "That is a good way to be."

"Perhaps," Janeway said, observing her closely. "But I've never been in a position where I've literally had nothing left either. There was always something that kept me going; Phoebe, after Daddy died, the ship and crew after I thought you died. There will always be my career or family or even Jake ... because that's just who I am. Darling, I hope that somehow that you too would find something that enables you to choose life in the event that I should die, but if you can't, then you have to make the choice you have to make."

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Seven's neck, resting her forehead against hers. "Whatever that decision," she said with utter seriousness. "Know this with every fiber of your being. I love you. I always will, no matter what. I release you from any promise I may have demanded of you regarding this issue."

Seven closed her eyes, feeling tears sting her eyelids but even as they did, it seemed a dark weight lifted off her shoulders. Kathryn would not make her live without her, would not force her into that empty existence where there was nothing to live for.

It was a burden she would never have to assume, and for that reason, now she felt strong enough to face anything.

"Thank you," she whispered, reaching up to wrap her hand around her partner's elbow. She sniffed, managing a tremulous smile. "It means a great deal to me. Perhaps more than you will ever know."

"I'm glad, darling," Janeway said softly.

The captain hugged her tightly and for several moments, they snuggled together on the couch, Seven trying to accept that it was all right for her to begin healing from this. She scarcely dared to breathe, listening to Kathryn in her arms, to her respiration, to the captain's heartbeat, absorbing her life essence through her skin. Finally, in small increments, the Borg began to relax and allow herself to believe that things would be all right ... that no matter what happened, somehow Kathryn would be there for her on some level. She drew her spouse closer, nuzzling the warm auburn hair and loving the smaller woman with every atom of herself. Kathryn seemed to understand, simply holding her, not speaking.

"Do you think we shall have two children?" Seven asked after a long while. "Just as in my vision?"

Janeway's lips quirked and her eyes grew soft. "I think we shall have twenty-two children," she said. "If we want. It's completely our choice, darling. It always has been. The future is never going to be written in stone, Annika, but that's what makes life worth living. Not knowing what lies beyond the bend but needing to discover it anyway."

Seven regarded her oddly. "Twenty-two?"

Janeway smiled. "Too many?" she said, and a hint of impishness crept into her tone.

"Not children," Seven said firmly. "Just too many pregnancies." She paused. "You do not do well with pregnancy."

Janeway tilted her head. "I probably do fine being pregnant," she said, using that tone which Seven knew was a gentle attempt to tease her. "I think you just don't do well with me being pregnant."

Seven opened her mouth to respond, considered it, then pursed her lips. "Perhaps you are correct," she allowed. She smiled briefly and looked into Janeway's soft eyes. "I love you, Kathryn. I am very glad you are my wife."

Janeway kissed her gently. "That's good," she said. "Because if someone else was, I think I'd have a great problem with it."

Seven smiled again and settled back against the cushions, resting her cheek on the top of Janeway's head. "Kathryn?" she said.

"Yes, Annika?"

"I will not promise not to ... follow you," the Borg said quietly. "But I do promise that I will consider all my options first ... that I will not allow fear to dictate my actions anymore."

Kathryn nodded and turned her head, looking at her directly. "I'm not asking for anything else, darling," she said. She carefully kissed her on her chin. "I think, that's all I've ever wanted. As long as it's your decision."

"It is," Seven said firmly.

Janeway kissed her again, just above the dimple, then gently in the little hollow just below her mouth. Then the captain traced the Borg's full lower lip with the tip of her tongue, not wantonly, but delicately, carefully. Seven smiled again, feeling a gentle pleasure radiate through her. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be with her spouse, something that she had been less than enthusiastic about recently. Seven supposed that even if she did not resent the Cirrilean Seer for frightening her, she would never forgive the female for having played a part in creating the distance which had developed between her and Kathryn the previous three days.

She flicked a glance at the chronometer. "It is late," she noted softly.

Janeway tenderly brushed her lips over Seven's. "I noticed that," she said quietly.

"Would you like to go to bed?" Seven asked carefully. She didn't know why she felt so shy at the moment, but she did. It was almost as if she couldn't be sure that things were definitely all right between them.

"On one condition," Janeway murmured.

"What would that be?" Seven responded hesitantly.

"That before we go to sleep," Janeway said. "We make love ... very slowly."

"I like that condition," Seven said, a touch relieved.

"You do?" Janeway drew away, looking at her with dark eyes, and Seven realized that the captain had been feeling a bit uncertain herself.

"I do," Seven replied firmly. She hugged her partner. "I know we have not since before I took shore leave on Cirrilea."

Janeway nodded. "That's natural, I think," she said reassuringly. "When we're not happy out of the bedroom, it's hard to be happy in it."

Seven thought that was quite profound. "I wish I knew about things like you do," she said wistfully.

Janeway smiled. "Darling, I wish I knew as much as you sometimes think I do. Then maybe I wouldn't make as many mistakes with you as I have." She nuzzled her softly. "I also wish I had your patience. No matter how much I blunder about, you just stick with me until I figure it out. That means everything."

"You mean everything to me," Seven said sincerely.

Janeway hesitated.

"Yes," she said slowly. "I'm beginning to realize that."

And kissed her with the most love Seven had ever felt in a kiss before.

Janeway leaned on her elbow, looking down on her lover who was sleeping peacefully for the first time in four nights. A stray strand of  golden hair ran across Seven's face and with the greatest of care, the captain gently brushed it away so that it would not disturb the Borg. There had been entirely enough disturbing the young woman lately, Janeway thought somberly. If it were at all in her power, then she would make sure there would be nothing that would ever disturb her spouse ever again. It was too bad that was a totally unrealistic desire.

All she could really do, she decided, was try to be there when she was needed, and hope it would be enough.

She wondered how much of what Chakotay said had been accurate. Had she really been blind to how much farther Seven had yet to progress? Or was he simply not aware of how much lay beneath that exterior, how many layers to the young woman Janeway had found in their relationship and how many she had yet to discover?

Probably a little of both, she mused. Chakotay did not ... could not ... know Seven as she did, the gentle heart, the simple wisdom that seemed to transcend the astounding intelligence. Yet, by the same token, Janeway had to admit that she had always accepted and expected more from the young woman than anyone else. It was very possible that she missed things about Seven because she was just too close to see them.

She sure as hell had missed what was really bothering Seven this time. She supposed that she could indulge herself with a good bout of self castigation and guilt, but decided to forego it this time. Seven didn't need it at the moment, and frankly, Janeway was learning that it didn't really accomplish anything beyond make her depressed and by extension, Seven miserable. Janeway had to remember she was married now. She couldn't afford to waste precious moments on futile recriminations.

She smiled faintly, her eyes tracing the line of her partner's jaw before moving onto the full lips, along the distinctive nose, and the large eyes with the sleepy lines beneath them. Taken individually, Seven had oddly dissociative features. Taken together, they gave her character, and a delicate, narrow beauty which never failed to touch Janeway, and always made her heart beat a little faster when she saw them. If people only knew how very fragile that command mask could be at times, such as in the conference room during a staff meeting where Seven would be relating some new piece of data, and Janeway would be paying far more attention to the way the Borg's mouth was shaping the words rather than what she was actually saying.

She actually started a bit when the pale blue eyes abruptly opened. For an instant, there was confusion in their depths, then they immediately cleared and sharpened as they centered on Janeway. The full lips curved up at the corners and Janeway returned the smile.

"Good morning," she said softly.

"Is it?" Seven said lazily. "What does the time read?"

"Around 0430 hours," Janeway said. She'd had a new chronometer installed on the headboard so she would know exactly what time it was, particularly during these early morning hours. They had another hour before computer call ... an hour and a half before they actually had to get up and do something.

"Have you been awake long?"

Janeway shook her head. "Fifteen minutes," she said. "Maybe twenty." She paused, regarding her spouse fondly. "I like watching you sleep. I don't have much opportunity. You sleep far less than I do."

"I am Borg," Seven said as if that was all the explanation needed for that, and indeed, Janeway supposed, it was.

Janeway leaned down to kiss her softly. "You are adorable," she corrected gently.

"That, as well," Seven murmured agreeably and Janeway knew her partner was back to where she should be ... as if their lovemaking the night before hadn't affirmed that quite nicely.

Janeway eased closer, sliding her thigh across Seven's groin and resting her hand lightly on the upper part of the young woman's chest, feeling the flutter of heartbeat under her fingertips. She pressed her face against the warm line of Seven's neck, kissing along the soft skin, a small chuckle vibrating beneath her lips.

"You are not satisfied after last night?" The tone was amused, playful.

Janeway nibbled gently at the tender throat. "You always satisfy me," she muttered. "But it also doesn't take long for me to start wanting you again. I'm afraid it's going to be a lifetime onus on you."

"It is an onus I shall be delighted to carry," Seven responded, reaching up with her forefinger to place it beneath Janeway's chin, raising her face so she could kiss her.

Janeway accepted the kiss readily, parting her lips to accept the tentative touch of Seven's tongue along the inside of them, then gently, against her own. Joyfully, Janeway tasted Seven's sweetness, the wondrous flavor of her, enjoying utterly the loving movement of the young woman's mouth over hers. Seven's kiss never failed to stir her, never failed to send a tingle all the way from her lips to the tips of her toes which curled happily. Depending on how intense the kiss was ... and this was intense indeed ... sometimes she even felt a bit faint.

Her respiration had increased accordingly when they finally parted, and she gently drew her fingertips down the slope of Seven's chest, brushing lightly over the velvet soft nipples which were a delicate pink, contrasting against the captain's warm brown tips which hardened in empathetic response to the Borg's.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered, a pleased breath of sound against Janeway's temple.

"Do you enjoy that?" Janeway murmured, knowing full well that she did but wanting to hear Seven's response anyway.

"Yes," Seven responded in a purr. "It feels so good when you touch me, Kathryn."

"I like touching you," Janeway assured quietly, continuing to tease the firm little buds with her fingerstips. "Do you know how much I need to be with you? You consume me."

She felt Seven smile against her hair. "I want to consume you," the Borg responded in an amused tone.  "And I shall."

Janeway laughed out loud, with sheer delight, and slid over to straddle her lover, resting her weight on her heels, Seven's abdomen fitting nicely between her knees, the Borg's slim hips trapped between the captain's thighs. Janeway looked down at the woman laying beneath her and felt her heart skip a beat at her beauty. Seven smiled faintly, reaching up to cover Janeway's breasts with her hands, the palms warm against the captain's skin.

Janeway leaned into the loving caress and resumed her gentle stroking of her lover, both women thoroughly enjoying the mutual exploration. The captain's head fell forward, her lips parting so she could draw air into her lungs, and she felt a rush of moisture between her legs, dampening the thatch of wry blond hair that was tickling her most intimate flesh.

She moaned as she felt Seven's fingers trail down from her breasts, stroking her stomach, over the softly rounded tummy, running lightly over her navel to tease her briefly then along her sides, dancing over her ribs. She settled lower on Seven, her hips undulating briefly, just enough to tantalize her with the touch of the Borg's body against her. Then Seven's hands were sliding down warmly over the captain's hips, down the top of her thighs, moving inside to the baby soft skin inside.

"Like this?" Seven whispered questioningly.  "Not with my mouth?"

"Oh yes," Janeway gasped and rose, allowing Seven to slip her fingers up the tender line of inner leg to the junction where her touch was like an electric jolt, sizzling along her nerve endings.  "I want to be able to look at you."

She moaned as she felt Seven slowly enter her even as the Borg used the fingertips of her other hand to fondle her with the most exquisite care, the metal tips smooth and cool against the hot ridge of flesh.  The Borg's fingers were long, and moved deep within Janeway, stroking her with languid pleasure as the captain felt the desire build steadily, her hips moving restlessly against the hand and body beneath her.

She forced her eyes to stay open when she climaxed, staring down into the captivating and devoted gaze of her lover, connected to those pale blue eyes with a bond so incredibly intense, she could barely catch her breath.  She trembled, crying out, then finally smiled with satisfied joy, seeing the smile echoed on Seven's face, the narrow features soft with love and desire. Much later, Seven offered her lover a high pitched cry which afforded the captain almost as much pleasure as the young woman was experiencing. Janeway's mouth fastened firmly over Seven's moist and sensitive flesh, tasting her with unmerciful tenderness as the Borg arched helplessly beneath her. Janeway so adored giving pleasure to Seven, loving how she tasted, how she responded so keenly to her caresses. She pledged silently to always keep Seven's needs first in her heart.

When the chronometer finally ticked over to indicate it was time to start their day, neither woman wished to move, sprawled with sybaritic pleasure in the center of the bed.

"It occurs to me," Seven murmured, tickling Janeway lightly as the captain squirmed in her grasp,  "that we should not begin our morning this way. It can be detrimental to our dedication to duty."

"Think of it as inspiring, instead," Janeway threw over her shoulder as she wiggled away, and forced herself to roll out of bed, padding naked to the ensuite. Behind her, she heard a sigh, then the more enthusiastic sounds of her partner slipping out of bed and following her. The Borg caught up to the captain in the shower and the spray from the triple nozzles peppered them with needle fineness as Janeway laughed, fending off the younger woman's playful advances.

"Oh, no you don't," the captain warned in a good humored tone as she grabbed Seven's wrists. "Just because you've had the last few days off doesn't mean I can afford to be late for my shift."

Seven abruptly pulled her close, and Janeway felt the breath squeezed from her as the young woman hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Kathryn," the Borg said softly into her ear. "Thank you for loving me ... and for being there for me."

"I always will, darling," Janeway told her, drawing back to regard the pale eyes intently. "If it is at all within my power, my love, I always will."

With complete and utter devotion they kissed as the warm water cascaded over their bodies, washing away the last lingering shadows of the past few days.

Epilogue

"That was supposed to be for Naomi," Lt. B'Elanna Torres said, regarding Seven with horror. "I don't want it."

"It is yours," Seven insisted evenly as she held out the furry blue B'Rethna in her palms where it quivered slightly, no doubt at the prospect of now belonging to the chief engineer. "Now that Naomi has received her birthday present, it is no longer necessary to conceal them in sickbay."

"I think you've had entirely too much party," B'Elanna responded icily as she regarded the fuzzy animal with utter loathing. "All this celebrating has gone to your head."

"B'Elanna, " Seven said with forced patience. "The creature has bonded with you. It can love only you now."

"Since when?" B'Elanna responded in an outraged tone.

"I'm afraid Seven is correct," the Doctor added. "When the creature bit your ear, it imprinted your genetic code onto its natural instincts. It will now look to you as the lead ... bitch."

He said the last with far too much enjoyment, the Klingon noted. She felt a growl rise in her throat which she forced down, very aware she was in the middle of a birthday party for the ship's youngest crewmember who was regarding her with wide eyes.

"Oh, B'Elanna," Naomi said, hugging her new pet to her chest gently. "I love mine. You'll love yours too. They're so cute."

"I'm a Klingon, kid," B'Elanna grumbled. "I don't do 'cute'."

The engineer was very aware of Captain Janeway viewing all this with bright blue eyes and firmly compressed lips, knowing that her CO was doing her very best not to laugh. B'Elanna looked back at Seven who was cradling the small animal gently, her eyes narrowing.

"Why don't you keep it for me, Seven?" B'Elanna said with sudden inspiration, immensely gratified to see the humor abruptly flee from the captain's face. "I'll come by and visit it every so often."

Seven looked intrigued by this suggestion, and the captain immediately stepped forward. "B'Elanna, the creature is bonded to you," Janeway said with the unmistakable hint of command in her tone. "It will waste away being without you."

Since the little thing looked absolutely no different now as it did a few weeks ago on the planet, even after being isolated in sickbay away from B'Elanna, the engineer considered that highly suspect. She eyed the captain with blatant skepticism, and saw the auburn brows draw down.

"Plus, Jake would eat it," the captain added succinctly.

Seven glanced at her partner, obviously appalled but apparently not about to disagree, a dismayed expression coming over her face that indicated she considered that suggestion to be quite possible. B'Elanna felt her head start to hurt.

"I don't need a pet," she said firmly.

"It needs you," the Borg said insistently.

Seven handed it to her, forcing the creature into her hands. B'Elanna rolled her eyes as the furry creature immediately scampered up her arms, crawled up her front and on to her shoulder where it curled up, purring audibly.

"Kahless on a crutch," she cursed under the laughter and comments.

Content that the pet was now accepted, the crewmembers who had gathered to see the presents distributed to Naomi ... and the unpleasantly surprised B'Elanna ... turned back to the party, eagerly partaking of the chocolate cake and strawberry ice cream. B'Elanna regarded the plate handed to her, and gloomily wondered if she could add some chilli pepper for taste.

"This is very good," Seven said a few feet away with profound surprise as she took the first bite from her loaded plate. She nudged the captain who was standing beside her. "Why have you never offered this to me before?"

Janeway eyed the huge slab of cake and mound of pink ice cream the Borg had acquired. "Ask me again after you finish eating all that," she said dryly.

B'Elanna sensed the approach of Harry Kim and she stiffened, waiting for the expected sarcastic comment which did not come. Instead, he merely stroked the creature's little head gently with his fingertips

"Naomi's right, it is cute," the lieutenant said wistfully. "What are you going to name it? I have a couple of suggestions if you're interested."

B'Elanna shot him a sideways glance. "Want it?" she asked quickly. "Then you can name it whatever you want."

He frowned. "The Doctor said it was 'bonded'," he objected.

B'Elanna grinned, showing sharply pointed teeth. "Just keep it in your place," she suggested. Then paused, not knowing if she should say the next thing or not, but plunging in anyway. "I'll drop by to visit it enough to keep it ... uh, healthy."

Harry regarded her with dark eyes. "Yeah?" he said.

"Yeah," she replied in a softer tone. He smiled widely, and she knew that she was in trouble again.

Damn, she cursed and promised herself that this was the absolute last time she ever took shore leave with Seven of Nine.

The End

This story was written in response to all the noise Kate Mulgrew was making a few months back about leaving the show.  At one point, she mentioned that she'd like to see Janeway killed off in some heroic manner if she did leave.  Needless to say, I was not thrilled with that idea at all but I did start to imagine how I would approach the JB series in that event.  The scenes that popped into my head of the two different ways I would end the JB series are incorporated into this story as Seven's two alternative futures.  Of course, now that I've used them, I can't utilize either to end the series ... whenever that might be.

•  This is the 17th installment in the Just Between series.

• This story was posted around the first of April, 1999 as the show was moving toward the end of its fifth season.

• I have to dedicate this one to Marco because he never gave up hoping to see the return of a certain couple. So this one is for him.  He also assisted in the techno babble but I tend to go my own way with it so anything that doesn't work is my doing, not his.

• There is a Wonder Wand Warning up for this installment for those who are not comfortable with the use of 'accessories'.

Just Between Universes
G. L. Dartt

Feeling as if the weight of the universe was on her shoulders, as she entered her quarters, Kathryn raised an eyebrow as she saw the slender woman with the cropped blond hair curled up on her couch, the narrow features intent as she studied a padd from the large stack scattered randomly over the coffee table. Despite her discouragement, Kathryn felt her heart lighten, and she smiled warmly at her guest.

"Didn't forget dinner, I see," she offered.

Annika looked up as if just now realizing the other woman was present, her pale blue eyes brightening. "Yes," she replied warmly. "I let myself in."

Kathryn nodded, crossing over to the replicator where she requested a glass of whiskey and soda. She glanced back at the blonde. "Can I get you anything?"

Annika lifted her wine glass, still half full of ruby liquid. "I'm covered, thanks," she said.

Kathryn took a sip of her drink as she drifted back to the sofa, pushing aside some padds so she could sit next to her guest, feeling the warmth spread through her as the alcohol burned a trail down to her stomach. "How was your day?" she asked idly.

Annika smiled absently. "Same old," she murmured. "A step forward in one area, two steps back in another. I might see the end of this project in my lifetime."

Kathryn pursed her lips. "You'll have to see it sooner than that," she said wryly. "Starfleet won't tolerate supporting this much longer."

That provoked the younger woman's complete attention, and she turned, regarding her companion with a laser gaze from ice blue eyes. "Maybe you should explain that," she said slowly.

Kathryn sighed and took another sip of her drink. "Sorry, I probably made it sound worse than it was," she said. "It ... I understand that it wasn't a very good meeting with the brass. There are other projects demanding their share of the resources, and with only so much to go around ..."

"Unless we have a concrete breakthrough soon, they're gonna pull the plug," Annika finished for her flatly. Agitated, the tall blonde rose to her feet, and paced restlessly about the small living room. "Damn it, Kathryn, this is just the sort of short-sighted vision that makes me wonder why I got involved with this whole thing in the first place."

"You know what Starfleet expects," Kathryn said, keeping a rein on her temper with an effort. She was tired and less tolerant of her companion's standard party line than normal. "If you can't fulfill it, then they'll go to someone who can."

That one stung, she saw, and she regretted her sharp words when she saw Annika turn abruptly and stare at her, a hurt expression on her face. Kathryn held up her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, deliberately gentling her tone. "I'm frustrated, too."

Annika hesitated, then nodded. She remained standing for another moment, and Kathryn was very aware of the intense scrutiny she cast upon her. She tried not to show her feelings, hoping that her command mask was holding though she knew she hadn't had opportunity to utilize it much lately. Feeling weary, she drained the last of the whiskey from her glass, wanting another one desperately, and knowing she shouldn't for just that reason.

"Have you heard anything about your latest request for a transfer?" Annika asked gently.

Commodore Kathryn Johnson lowered her eyes. "I received a communiqué from Starfleet command this morning," she said with difficulty. "Apparently, I am considered to be ... too valuable here." She stared blankly at the now empty glass in her hands. "They're not going to give me a new ship. Or demote me back to captain."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Annika Hansen said finally, after a long pause.

Johnson raised her eyes to meet those of the other woman's squarely. "Are you?" she replied coldly, wanting to take the words back as soon as they left her mouth.

But Annika did not react to the tone. "Yes," she said quietly. "I am. You're not happy here and more than anything, I do want you to be happy ... even if it means we can't be together."

Johnson averted her face, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. "Maybe it's for the best," she said, controlling her voice with an effort.

"Hey," Hansen said softly as she returned to her previous seat, reaching over and taking Johnson's hand into her own. "It'll work out, Kathryn, I know it will. You'll get the posting you want."

Johnson forced a smile. "You know I'm trying for a science vessel," she said softly. "One where you can come along in a civilian capacity." She looked over at the other woman, feeling her heart catch. "I want you to be with me."

Hansen moved closer, slipping her arm about the smaller woman's shoulders. "Sweetheart, when I get this transwarp thing licked, they'll be falling all over themselves to get the new coils installed on the ships," she said with genuine enthusiasm. "As the only starship captain who knows about them, you'll have your pick of vessels." She paused, taking a second to kiss Johnson gently on the temple as her voice grew more thoughtful. "In fact, maybe that's why Starfleet is stalling you. They want you here to take command of the first vessel we modify."

Johnson felt a smile touch her lips. She didn't know if she believed the young scientist's optimistic take on the situation, but she couldn't deny that it made her feel better to hear it. She leaned closer to Hansen, settling against the lanky body, enjoying the brief sense of security the arms surrounding her granted her soul.

"I'm sorry for being so cranky," she said softly.

"I'm used to it," Hansen responded dryly. "You've been cranky from the first moment we met." She pulled Janeway's face to her, and kissed her soundly on the mouth. "It didn't stop me from falling in love with you," she said in gentle reminder against her lips. "It certainly doesn't keep me from being crazy about you now.

Johnson smiled and snuggled closer. "So what would you like for dinner?" she asked, changing the subject. "I understand that a new supply ship unloaded this morning with Alaskan crabs fresh from the coast. We can go out."

Located on the fourth planet in the Sol system, the Olympian facility was a high security installation under the aegis of Starfleet Command where Hansen and her group of civilian scientists were working on creating a transwarp propulsion system to be placed on current Federation starships. Limited to authorized personnel only, it was completely self-contained, and boasted a variety of recreational facilities for its people; including gymnasiums, live theater, shops and an eating establishment named Frisco's, providing the finest of Earth cuisine. The restaurant was a favorite of the couple, who had a table near the windows which looked out into the rusty rock formations of the stark landscape left pretty much as it had been before the extensive terra-forming Mars had undergone.

Hansen's tongue darted out and flicked Johnson's earlobe. "I was sort of hoping we could stay in tonight," she murmured suggestively, her voice dropping a note or two.

Johnson shivered as the sensation traveled through her. "I can live with that," she responded huskily.

A chime from her communications console interrupted what was developing into a very nice mood, and with a sigh, the commodore rose, moving over to her console where she activated in the viewscreen. "Go ahead," she said, schooling the irritation from her voice.

The stern Slavic features of Admiral Alynna Nechayev appeared, the Starfleet sector administrator regarding the Commodore with dark eyes. Behind her, Johnson could see the window which looked out over the sun dappled sparkles of San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate bridge, indicating that the call was originating from Starfleet Command Headquarters on Earth.

"Kathryn," the Admiral said, not wasting time. "I'm sending the latest results of the nanoprobe experiments to you. The teams on Phobos are having a lot of problems, and it's hoped that your people can offer a new perspective."

Johnson blinked, trying to adjust to this abrupt bit of news. "What of the transwarp project," she protested mildly.

Necheyev looked annoyed. "The consensus is that it's lost a great deal of its potential," she said. "Whereas the council believe that these nanoprobes can make an immediate difference in the war effort with the Dominion." She hesitated, then raised an eyebrow ruefully. "You can keep a core group on the warp coil construction, Kathryn, but start shifting the focus as soon as possible. We need those weapons."

"Understood," the Commodore said as the screen flickered and went blank. An icon in the lower left corner indicated the transferal of secured, highly classified files being placed in her data base. She took a deep breath and turned, looking at her companion.

Hansen was regarding her with frosty silence.

"You weren't supposed to be privy to that," Johnson said lamely.

"They're yanking the rug right out from under us," the scientist snapped. "You didn't even fight it!"

Johnson firmed her jaw. "I have my orders," she said. "I know that's not a concept you like very much, but it is how it has to be."

"There's a difference between accepting the inevitable and folding without a struggle," Hansen said harshly as she began to gather up her padds. "You've become nothing more than a puppet."

That stung, and Johnson knew her dinner plans were disintegrating right before her eyes. When Hansen got on a roll about Starfleet and its militaristic aspects that were growing stronger every day the Dominion war went on, it was almost impossible to deal with the young woman. She simply would not listen to reason, yet Johnson tried anyway.

"Annika, we don't have a lot of choice here," she said. "The entire Federation is at stake, and we need to do what has to be done in order to preserve it."

"You know, I'm always hearing stories of how you were when you were in the Delta Quadrant, and honestly, I think you've lost something, Kathryn," Hansen said as she headed for the exit. "You used to get things done despite the red tape and protocols. Maybe you should think about how much you've lost by becoming a Starfleet lackey again!"  The door hissed shut behind her with a firm finality.

Johnson stood alone in her command quarters.

"I do think about it," she said in a tiny voice. "All the time."

Wishing that she didn't ... wishing that she was still a captain at the helm of her own vessel, in command of her own destiny, depending only on herself and a crew which would follow her into a quantum singularity itself.

Wishing that she didn't have to spend most of her current existence feeling absolutely helpless.

One Universe Over

Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager entered the captain's quarters and frowned, wondering where her spouse of three months was located. Aware that the young Borg had finished her duty shift an hour earlier, the captain had expected to find her home waiting for her, especially since they had been planning to meet here before going to the holodeck for an early Velocity match before dinner.

"Annika?" she said.

"In the bedroom, Kathryn," the voice floated out from the other room.

Intrigued, Janeway crossed the living area and peered through the bedroom door, stifling a laugh when she saw her partner lying naked on the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes drawn to the juncture of the statuesque blonde's legs where a simulated penile device towered over her groin proudly.

"I am determining the Wonder Wand 9000's full range of options," Seven of Nine responded, frowning as she perused the padd which had apparently been in the plain, wooden box laying discarded on the floor. The lid was flung casually open to reveal the now empty velvet interior, which was the normal resting place of the Ferengi manufactured sexual 'aid'. "According to these 'instructions', I do not believe we have been receiving the full value of this device ."

"I see," Janeway said in a voice laden with amusement. She leaned against the door frame, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Am I to presume that Velocity is not on tap for this evening?"

Seven looked up at her, then flushed. "I lost track of time," she admitted. "I discovered that there were even more features than we were previously aware."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "You were ... uh, using it on your own?" she asked, surprised at the surge of desire that went through her at this thought, her voice dropping to a smoky caress.

Seven looked at her oddly. "How could I use it without you?" she asked.

Janeway blinked, abruptly shifting gears. "Ah, well, that is sort of its original purpose," she stammered, realizing she had just ventured into territory that perhaps she shouldn't have.

"It is?" Seven was obviously surprised by this. She looked down at it. "You mean that a person would utilize this on ... themselves?" She seemed intrigued by the idea, and raised her eyes to meet Janeway's squarely. "Have you?"

Janeway felt the hot blush travel up her neck to radiate from her cheeks. "Uh," she temporized. "There was those three days you were on that away mission to the Corvos system." She found herself avoiding the young woman's eyes. "I was ... lonely without you, darling and ... well, feeling sort of amorous one night thinking about our honeymoon and ... it was here and you weren't ..." She trailed off, very aware of Seven regarding her with the strangest expression on her face. "Are you upset?"

Seven blinked. "I am surprised," she said. "I did not realize one could ... pleasure one's own self."

Janeway searched desperately around for an answer to that one as her partner lay there, waiting expectantly. "Well, we can," she said weakly.

"How?"

"Oh, god." Janeway shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. "Oh ... ah, pretty much the same way you would pleasure me."

"Ah," Seven offered with sudden comprehension. "You utilized it to penetrate yourself by manipulating it with your hands."

"Yes," Janeway said, acutely embarrassed and hoping that was the end of it.

"You enjoyed that?" Seven asked with intense scientific curiosity.

Janeway took a deep breath. "It wasn't as ... pleasurable as if you had been with me," she said honestly. "But I fantasized that it was you that was using it on me and ... it got the job done."

"I see," Seven remarked. She seemed to be considering this very seriously. "However, I would be unable to utilize it on myself in that manner."

Janeway hesitated, then moved away from the door and took a seat gingerly on the foot of the bed, looking at her partner who was in a half seated position, reclining against the pillows at the head of the bed.

"You would not enjoy the penetration," Janeway said softly. "We've established that, but there would be another way for you to use it for your own pleasure ... if you'd like."

"Indeed?"

The Starfleet captain's eyes searched around the bed, finally spotting the small control on the night stand. She held out her hand. "Pass me the remote," she requested, unaware she was bestowing a whole new meaning to a phrase which had been fairly common in the latter part of Earth's twentieth century.

Seven picked it up and readily handed it to Janeway who studied the current settings before making a brief adjustment to one of the levels. She looked back at her partner. "Reach down and touch it," she instructed gently.

Seven eyed her a moment, then did so. She jumped a little and glanced back at the captain. "You have increased the sensitivity," she noted.

"Just relax and sort of ... caress it," Janeway suggested, giving Seven back the remote. "Pretend I'm not here."

"You are here," Seven objected.

"For the sake of the experiment," Janeway countered.

"Very well," Seven said. She ran her fingers up and down the phallus, twitching at the sensation. "It feels ... good," she admitted. "But I would rather you were touching me."

"I know," Janeway said, controlling her breathing. She was a little hesitant about how much she was enjoying this observation of her partner, but could not deny that it was sending tingles throughout her entire body. "In the event that I was not here, however, you could do this by yourself."

"Imagining that I was utilizing it on you," Seven said, a dawning enlightenment appearing in her pale eyes. "It would be ... a substitute."

Janeway nodded. "One that you can make do with until ... the real thing returns."

"As you did," Seven said in understanding, now wrapping her fingers completely around the fleshy shaft and pumping slowly, moving up and down as a piston would in the cylinder of her fist. Her hips were moving off the bed, and Janeway felt the sudden urge to get out of her uniform.

"Yes," the captain said, standing up and tugging at her tunic, shrugging out of it before tossing it over to the lounger.

Seven looked at her and raised an eyebrow, pausing in her motion. "You are not supposed to be here," she reminded her, humor coloring her tone. "Not for this experiment."

"A good scientist is always prepared for changing variables, Annika," Janeway said as she peeled off her sweater, the static electricity raising strands of her auburn hair so that it crackled about her face. "Continue your experiment." She shinnied out of her trousers and boots, then quickly removed her undergarments, leaving her standing naked by the bed where she stared with avid eyes as Seven resumed pleasuring herself. "Just consider me a new variable," she added huskily.

"You are enjoying this," Seven noted with interest. "Watching me."

"It is stimulating," Janeway admitted.

Seven was silent for a moment, the only sound from her the increased respiration which caused her chest to rise and fall in a most delightful manner, her full, pink tipped breasts quivering as her arm flexed.

"I find," the Borg said finally, "that I am also stimulated by having you watch me."

"Human sexuality is a constant exploration," Janeway noted with a smile.

"I think ... I would be further stimulated if you would lie down," Seven suggested. "So that you were closer to me."

Janeway's smile widened. "For experimental purposes only," she warned.

"Of course," Seven said, her eyes shining.

Janeway carefully stretched out on the bed beside her spouse, raised on her side as she propped her head up on her hand, watching Seven manipulate the artificial penis. The captain knew that the device which fitted over the young woman's clitoris had sensors inside which transmitted sensation directly to the Borg's own nerve endings, making it seem as if the phallus was an 'extension' of her body. So by caressing it in this manner, Seven was actually stimulating herself, something Janeway did not think the Borg had ever deliberately attempted before. It stirred her, sent another surge of desire rippling through her which left her weak, moisture flooding her nether regions, her nipples hardening in the still air.

"Annika," Janeway asked softly. "Can I change the settings a bit?"

"You wish to make the color look more like my own flesh tones," Seven guessed. She smiled briefly at her partner. "Perhaps make it a bit smaller, as well?"

"If you don't mind," Janeway said politely.

Seven handed her the remote, and Janeway made the changes in the settings so that the color was no longer that appalling neon blue, and the dimensions were more consistent with Human male genitalia; approximately sixteen centimeters long and four centimeters thick, rather than the thirty centimeters Seven had been working with. The Borg never stopped her motion as the device adjusted itself in her hand, her eyes pinned on Janeway's face.

The captain caught her breath as she met that intent pale gaze, and she leaned over, kissing Seven on the mouth, flicking the Borg's lips with her tongue to part them, then deepening the kiss with passionate intent.

"Annika," she offered huskily when they parted. "Can we save the self experimentation for a future time?"

"I believe so," Seven responded, swallowing hard as she removed her hand from the device. "In truth, I had discovered a few features I wished to ... demonstrate to you."

"Indeed?" Janeway said. She raised an eyebrow as Seven leaned over, and drew out a jar from the drawer of the night stand located near the head of the bed. Seven opened it and scooped out some clear, gelatinous substance which she slathered over the Wonder Wand 9000, leaving it glistening in the ship's illumination. "Been at the replicator recreational programs again, I see," the captain added with breathless curiosity.

"It is lubrication," Seven explained, shooting a glance at her. "I understand that this facilitates penetration so that there is absolutely no pain."

Janeway laughed. "My love, lubrication is usually not a problem with me," she said.

"I know," Seven said, suddenly serious. "However, I do not want to take the risk."

Janeway hesitated, studying her lover's eyes for a moment, remembering the discomfort Seven had experienced that one time they had attempted to utilize the device with Janeway in the 'male' position. It apparently had made a lasting impression on her partner. "I see," she said gently. "Thank you." Seven smiled wistfully at her, and Janeway leaned closer, kissing her sweetly. "You really are the most conscientious lover, my darling," the captain murmured. "I do want you to know I appreciate that."

Seven slipped her arm around her and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. "I only wish to give you pleasure, Kathryn," she said against her mouth. "Never pain."

"You never do, my love," Janeway assured her, nibbling at the Borg's bottom lip. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the fleshy rod, rubbing it gently. Her fingers glided easily in the lubricant which, to her surprise, felt quite silky, rather than slimy or greasy. Seven moaned, and the captain smiled at her. "Have you arrived at any preliminary conclusions?" she asked.

"Yes," Seven said, breathing deeply. "I must conclude that external stimulation is preferable to self stimulation even when the action is exactly the same."

"Astute analysis," Janeway noted dryly.

Seven kissed her, then settled back against the pillows, reaching over for the remote. "Now, I must show you the variables for which you must base your future conclusions," she said.

"All right," Janeway said, amused and aroused as she dropped the control device into the Borg's palm. "What would you like me to do?"

Seven glanced at her. "Would you sit on my lap?" she requested delicately.

Since that was where the wonder wand was, Janeway knew exactly what that meant, and with Seven's assistance, she carefully straddled her spouse, taking her time to position herself over the tip of the phallus. Seven reached down and guided the head to Janeway's opening, holding it still as the captain slowly eased down onto it. Janeway put her hands on Seven's shoulders to support herself, making a soft sound in her throat as she felt the hardness fill her, grateful that it seemed to have some form of internal thermostat which always made it the body temperature of the wearer. As a result, it felt quite real, almost as if it was actually a part of Seven's body, and the lubrication made it slip into the captain with incredible ease.

"Oh god, love," Janeway breathed as she settled onto her wife. She was resting against the Borg's torso, feeling Seven's breasts slide against hers, her warm skin silky smooth against the captain's body. The couple rarely used the device to supplement their love life, but when they did, Janeway was always tremendously aroused simply by the combined sensation of male and female attributes working together to give her pleasure. "What now?"

"I wish you to remain still," Seven told her.

"Okay," Janeway said agreeably. "Isn't that a little boring, however?"

"Have patience," Seven instructed. "I do not believe it will be 'boring'."

Janeway laughed. "Very well," she responded.

The captain blew a strand of hair off her face as she felt perspiration dampen her forehead, and she regarded her lover closely, intrigued as she saw Seven touch the controls. Her eyes widened as she felt the device suddenly contract inside her, almost as if it was withdrawing, then it expanded again, filling her with its previous size. Then again as it began a slow repetition of steady thrusts inside her, just as if Seven were actually moving her hips.

"Goodness, that certainly takes a lot of the work out of it," Janeway exclaimed, torn between laughter and astounded pleasure. "How are you doing that?"

"A program of two size parameters set on a repeating loop," Seven said, rather proudly.

"I like it," Janeway said and pressed closer against the Borg, kissing her neck, shifting so she could feel her breasts move over Seven's. She gasped as Seven touched the controls again, and a bump rose from the base of the phallus, pushing against Janeway's hard little center. Janeway needed only to undulate her hips slightly to rub herself over the protrusion. "Oh my!"

"You like this?" Seven said, a pleased note in her voice.

"Oh, very much," Janeway responded, breathing hard. "Men can't manage that one at all. Clever girl."

"I find it to be far more efficient this way," Seven admitted. Her hands ran restlessly over the captain's sides and back. "I can concentrate on you rather than the proper mechanics of my movement."

Janeway laughed huskily. "Trust you to discover the most efficient method for using this thing," she said. She swallowed, moaning as she pressed against her lover. "Oh god, Annika, this feels so good."

"That was my intention," Seven whispered, seeking out Janeway's mouth, covering it possessively.

She reached between them, putting her hands over Janeway's breasts, squeezing them gently. With skilled fingertips still slick from the lubrication, she teased Janeway's nipples, and the captain felt herself cast adrift on the combination of Seven kissing her hotly, the thrusting between her legs, the bump rubbing against her ridge, and finally, the feel of Seven's hands on her breasts. Seven was not done, however, and Janeway jerked as she felt Seven's right hand leave her breast and slide around to her back, the fingers sliding into the cleft of her buttocks, pressing against her anus. "Annika?"

"I promise to be very careful, Kathryn," Seven whispered, not moving as she waited for Janeway's response. "I will not touch you anywhere else afterward."

"Gently," Janeway responded huskily, granted her lover permission, trusting her utterly. It was not necessarily anything she had particularly liked in the past with other lovers, but she knew Seven enjoyed it, and was willing for the sake of experimentation to explore this with her.

"I will," Seven promised sincerely.

The captain shuddered as she felt Seven's finger gently circle the puckered opening, prodding against it provocatively, then finally the Borg eased her middle finger into the captain with the most tender of motions, and Kathryn was aware that the jar's lubrication still on the young woman's hands had facilitated the ease of her entry. They kissed again, Seven's tongue invading Janeway's mouth as the Borg set up an alternating motion with her finger, slipping into Janeway from behind as the phallus contracted, withdrawing as it expanded. Never had the captain felt so filled, so penetrated all at once and she drew away from Seven's mouth, groaning harshly, throwing her head back as she fought for air, gripping the young woman's shoulders tightly.

It was overwhelming, the various sensations from the different parts of her body making it difficult to think, to remember where she was and what exactly was happening. It was as if there were more than one person making love to her, one from the front, one from the back and yet another using their mouth on her. She was suspended in a sea of pleasure with the pinnacle hovering just out of reach, the different stimulations starting to overload her mind. It felt adrift, darting from one pleasure center to the other, deceived by the ease of it, of; the two bodies pressed together, not needing any great exertion, just the brief undulations of Janeway's hips to rub against the tantalizing protrusion. The device seemed to speed up, thrusting into her deeper and faster, and when Seven leaned forward to take a nipple between her lips, sucking on it firmly as her mesh covered fingers tugged on her other one, it was the final straw, the ultimate sensation that pushed Janeway over the top. Her orgasm didn't so much sweep her up as it exploded inside her, taking her and shaking her as the captain cried out helplessly, climaxing so hard that she felt shattered in a million pieces.

She returned to herself, cradled in her lover's arms, the device having stopped its motion, but still filling her. Seven had withdrawn her hand from the woman's rear channel, and was now holding it carefully away from Janeway as the captain swallowed against a sandpaper mouth, clinging to the Borg unsteadily for long moments, trying to slow her rushing heart rate.

"So, what are your conclusions?" Seven asked softly. "Regarding this experiment?"

"God, Annika," Janeway murmured. "That was ... too much."

"Indeed?" Seven said with great curiosity. "How so?"

Janeway took a moment, trying to catch her breath as she organized her thoughts. "It was incredible, darling," she said finally, laying weakly against Seven. "Don't get me wrong, it was really good but after awhile, it became more about the sensation, and less about the emotion we have for each other. I found myself ... isolated, as if it were just me and my pleasure rather than my being with you." She hesitated, nuzzling Seven's neck. "I don't know that I'm explaining this very well."

Seven kissed her forehead gently. "I believe I understand what you are saying," she said slowly. "As we progressed, I became no more important a variable to your pleasure than ... the accessory."

"Exactly," Janeway said with a touch of relief. "It's great fun once in awhile, but I like being with you, darling. This was ... like having sex. Great sex, mind you, but when it's all said and done, it was purely physical. I need more than that with you."

"So you would not want to do this regularly?" Seven asked.

Janeway sat up, linking her hands behind Seven's neck and kissing her on the lips, softly, sweetly. "No," she decided finally. "It was fun to explore, and it was very stimulating as a change of pace, just as it was when I used it on myself, but I'd much rather be with you, my love and not with a device."

"Very well," Seven said in a pleased sort of way, and Janeway knew she had explained herself exactly right.

The captain was still shaken at how much the pleasure centers in her body had overwhelmed her, and how quickly she no longer cared who or what was causing it. Janeway guessed that she now understood how some people could become addicted to such things, but she was also very aware that in the end, it was not enough for her. Despite her explosive orgasm, she felt surprisingly ... unsatisfied as she relaxed under the covers, waiting while Seven went into the ensuite where the Borg cleaned both herself and the wonder wand before putting the device back in its box until the next experiment.

The real joy, Janeway decided as Seven eventually joined her in the cozy bed, was this wonderful concentration on her partner, their bodies coming together in warm, sweet passion with nothing between them. The captain's hands moved gently and lazily over Seven, granting her lover pleasure in the most personal of ways, sharing a deep intimacy with her in utter adoration and tenderness.

Janeway concluded that making love was far superior to having sex.

Though sex was fun ... once in awhile.

Dr. Hansen threw down the padd in frustration, the equations starting to run together in her mind. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, then raked her fingers through her severe hairdo, leaving it sticking up like spikes, a single lock falling over her forehead. Leaning back in her chair, she looked around her office moodily, and tried not to scream in utter aggravation. She had lost most of her scientific team, large chunks of her personnel shifted over to the new nanoprobe project, which made it impossible for her to conduct half the tests she wanted. She felt the anger flood through her again, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring out the window at the rusty sand of the Mars desert, still touched by the sun which was setting in a sky shading from navy to black.

"Damn," she said out loud in a petulant tone. If only Johnson had fought harder.

How? a little voice inside her asked curiously.

If she had stood up to that admiral, then the facility would be concentrating on the transwarp project, she told herself. I'd be several steps closer to a functioning coil.

No, Kathryn would be shot down, and possibly even replaced by someone else, her voice noted rationally. Then, where would you be?

Alone, Hansen allowed reluctantly. Again.

So here you sit, sulking for the past week in your office, her voice prodded. You know very well what Kathryn can and can't do in her position, how much she hates the politicking and the maneuvering she has to do to make this facility work. Yet she continues to do it ... because that's what the job requires. When she makes a commitment, she sticks by it. That's the woman you fell in love with. So why are you mad at her for being exactly who she is?

Hansen frowned mightily and stared at her desk stubbornly.

Don't forget, this throws out your theory of Starfleet wanting to stall Johnson so she can take command of a transwarp vessel, her voice added with honest irritation. Imagine how that one feels to her and try to rise about your own selfish concerns ... for a change.

An empty space inside her abruptly ached with an exquisite pain, and Annika felt her temples throb. How could she have overlooked what this meant to Kathryn? Obviously, her tantrum had gone on long enough, she decided firmly. It was time to bite the bullet and make the first move, especially since she had been the one being so cold and unresponsive for the past week. She knew she had to do something extra to make up for it beyond merely making an effort to restore communication. She needed something tender and romantic, something that would hold the door open long enough for her to apologize.

She keyed in some commands to her work console, using a few tricks she had discovered a few months earlier when a rift had developed between this universe and another. Two people, the counterparts to both her and Johnson, had appeared in this reality and it had taken all four working together to return the wanderers to their own universe. Her counterpart went by the name, Seven of Nine, assimilated by the Borg Collective at age six ... something that Hansen and her parents had avoided by returning to the Federation a year or so earlier than Seven's parents had. While working with this other version of herself, Hansen had learned quite a few things, not the least of which was that in at least one reality, she and the woman named Kathryn shared a deep and committed love. It had been enough for her to try to form a relationship with the Kathryn in this universe, wanting the same sort of love and passion filling her life as it did her counterpart's. Though she wondered if Seven had as much difficulty with it as she seemed to be going through.

Probably not, she decided silently as she scanned Commodore Johnson's psychological profile, something she shouldn't have been able to access at all. My Kathryn's a real hard ass.

She sighed as she finally found what she was looking for. A transcript where Johnson mentioned that she had received a rose every day from Boothby while at the Academy, and how much she enjoyed them. Apparently, it had been in response to a question about the significance of actions verses words. Roses would be just the thing to do the trick, Hansen considered analytically as she shut down the file, making sure there were no lingering traces which could be traced back to her.

Quickly, she went over to her replicator, spending a few moments debating over quantity verses quality, a dozen stems verses the simple elegance of a single bloom, the color, the size and all the rest of the variables. She forced herself to remember who she was dealing with here, and went for elegance, hoping she had guessed right. Steeling herself, she left her office, carrying the flower and feeling rather obvious as she made her way to the administrative level where the commodore's office was housed.

She put a finger to her lips when she saw Johnson's assistant at her desk, and because Ensign Jetal was a bit of a romantic herself, the dark haired woman smiled upon spotting the rose and waved her through without announcing her. Hansen slipped into the office, realizing her lover hadn't heard the door because the woman did not turn from her contemplation of the landscape through her window.

For just a moment, Hansen was struck by the sheer loveliness of Johnson, the compact, small-breasted body standing at easy attention in the gray and black Starfleet uniform, the classic features in thoughtful repose, the soft auburn hair done up in an austere bun.

The sad melancholy in the blue-grey eyes.

Shamefully, Hansen eased silently into a position beside her, and offered the rose before the commodore who started slightly.

"I know you're probably still angry with me," the young blonde said quickly. "You have every right to be. I've been acting like a spoiled child who's had her favorite toy taken away. I'm sorry." She paused and gentled her voice. "Please forgive me."

For a long moment, Johnson regarded the single, solitary white rose. Then she accepted it, bringing the bloom up to her nose where she inhaled the scent deeply.

"I suppose I should ask how you got in here without being announced," she said dryly, and Hansen was both relieved and gratified to hear the humor touching the smoky voice.

"I have my ways," Hansen allowed, smiling briefly. She dared to put her hand on one slender shoulder of the smaller woman, bending her head so that it was close to the commodore's. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. Sometimes I'm too immature for my own good ... or anyone else's. Comes from being an only child."

"Is that where it comes from?" Johnson said, obviously not quite ready to give in.

Hansen appreciated that. After all, a certain amount of groveling never hurt now and again, keeping one properly humble. For someone with the frighteningly keen intelligence the young blonde had grown up with, being humbled every so often was a good thing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, moving closer and pressing her face against the soft hair, closing her eyes. "I adore you, Kathryn. I shouldn't be taking my frustration at Starfleet out on you. You're the only good thing in this whole situation. I know I don't deserve you, but I hope you'll give me a second chance anyway."

Johnson seem finally ready to accept this, leaning against her and resting her cheek against Hansen's chin. The blond brushed her lips over the other woman's temple.

"I do love you, Annika," the commodore said in a weary voice. "I just don't know how to balance that with the demands Starfleet places on me all the time." She paused. "I never did. It cost me my marriage. I don't want it to cost me you."

"It won't," Hansen promised her. She wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and held her close. "I know I don't make it any easier. I need to be working with you more instead of against you, Kathryn, and from now on, I'm going to change that. If you think it will help ... I'll look over the nanoprobe data. Maybe I can even offer something that might open up a new line of research."

And possibly wrap it up sooner, putting my people back on the transwarp project where they belong, Dr. Hansen thought, but didn't add.

Johnson wasn't fooled. "If you do figure out what's causing the problem," she said deliberately. "I can put your team back on the transwarp coil development that much sooner."

Hansen grinned wryly. "Don't rub it in," she told her. "I've already wasted a week pouting."

Johnson put her head back, looking up at the younger woman with a faint smile. "Why don't you drop by my quarters tonight?" she suggested quietly. "I can show you the data then."

Dr. Hansen reached down and kissed the tip of the commodore's nose gently. "Only if I can bring dinner," she said softly. "I owe you one."

"All right," Johnson responded.

They regarded each other for a few moments, then slowly kissed, holding onto each other tightly, needing to heal this. Hansen enjoyed the sensation of the woman's mouth on hers and deepened the contact, sliding her hands restlessly over the commodore's back. She had always felt more comfortable in her past few relationships with females compared to those that she'd shared with males, though she had never been with anyone, male or female, who had touched her as deeply as Johnson did.

Stormy from the first moment the Starfleet officer had taken command of the project, the interaction of the commodore, in the final stages of a dying marriage, and Hansen, who had been at odds with her parents over her choice of career, had been more combative than potentially romantic. Hansen suspected that much of their personal frustration had been taken out on each other in that first year, but after witnessing the possibilities for themselves in meeting Janeway and Seven, they had began looking at each other with new eyes. Now that Johnson was no longer married, and Hansen could at least speak civilly to her father again, they were trying to rebuild the relationship from scratch, one based on love rather than antagonism.

Perhaps this time, they would finally get it right. Annika could only hope so ... with every fiber of her being.

One Universe Over

Seven angled her body slightly, barely avoiding the Velocity disc which shot past her. Without looking, she fired behind her, hearing the slight variation in whine which indicated that she had struck it, and that it had changed color. She leaped to the side and watched with satisfaction as the disc rebounded straight back and slammed into the chest of her opponent.

"Full contact, Seven of Nine. Final round, Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine wins, six to four," the computer stated evenly.

Lt. B'Elanna Torres dropped her arm to her side, looking at Seven in utter disgust. "Damn," she said. "You didn't even look to see where it went."

Seven tried not to look inappropriately triumphant as she leaned down to pick up the two water bottles, handing one to the Klingon chief engineer. "I have been improving," she said modestly. "Perhaps I shall even win the next time I play Kathryn."

B'Elanna snorted her opinion of that, and flipped the top of the container, tipping it up to swallow several gulps of the cool, clean water. Seven mimicked the action though she was less obvious in her need for liquid refreshment, and she did not require as much as the other woman who was sweating profusely.

"How is your pet?" Seven remarked. Recently, B'Elanna had acquired a tiny alien creature from a planet some light years back where they had spent shore leave.  It resembled a cross between a kitten and a weasel and was almost unbearably cute.

The engineer shot her a look, as if suspecting the other woman was making fun of her. Since it was not something Seven was in the habit of doing often, the Borg was always bemused by the fact that was always B'Elanna's first thought.

"Libby's doing just fine," the lieutenant said finally.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "'Libby'?"

B'Elanna leaned down and picked up a towel, wiping her face and neck. "Harry named it," she explained. "It's staying in his quarters."

"Is that not the name of the woman he loved back on Earth?" Seven noted in an odd tone.

"Yeah," B'Elanna said dryly. "Not necessarily the way to get my attention."

"Do you want him to?" Seven asked curiously.

B'Elanna eyed her briefly, then shook her head. "You know, Seven," she admitted finally. "For a time I thought he really was trying to get my attention ... and that it might be something that I would like to ... uh, explore."

"But not now?" Seven frowned. She began to realize that she had assessed the signals between the engineer and the operations officer all wrong. It bothered her. She was usually better at that sort of speculation.

"I don't think so," B'Elanna said. She frowned as if by a sudden thought. "You know, I think he just wanted my pussy."

Seven blinked. "Your ... pussy?"

B'Elanna gestured carelessly. "Yeah, you know, the 'bar breath'," she said, mangling the alien name for the creature. "I just refer to it as a cat because it's easier to remember. Anyway, once I gave it to him, he seemed a lot less interested in me."

"Isn't the B'Rethna still bonded to you?" Seven asked

B'Elanna took another drink. "Frankly, Seven," she said. "I think that whole 'bonding' thing is a crock. It gets on perfectly well with Harry. I doubt it even knows I'm not there most of the time."

"Naomi's creature is very attached to her," Seven said, referring to the starship's solitary child who had also acquired a B'Rethna from the planet.

"That's 'cause they're never out of each other's sight," B'Elanna said, unimpressed. "The mangy thing even sleeps with her."

Both women glanced over as the large doors suddenly opened, and Tom Paris entered the holodeck. He was dressed in the outfit Seven knew was meant for his Captain Proton holoprogram, and she was surprised, having believed that he was no longer running it since the unfortunate incident with the fifth dimension aliens.

"Are you finished?" he asked, regarding them warily, particularly the engineer. He had once been romantically involved with B'Elanna, and even after a respectable amount of time, there was still a rawness between them.

"It's all yours," B'Elanna said, without her normal sarcastic tone. She glanced at Seven. "Want to get some lunch in the messhall?"

Seven nodded, and they left the holodeck to Voyager's helmsman, pausing to shower and change in the locker room next to the recreation area. Seven pulled on her plum colored outfit, the garment clinging to her body like a second skin, and put her long blond hair up into a restrained bun. B'Elanna padded naked from the shower and fished her black and gold uniform out of the locker where she had left it prior to their Velocity match. Casually, Seven's eyes assessed the Klingon's body, the tanned skin which rippled over delicate muscle, the defined spine. B'Elanna bent over, affording the Borg a good view of her cleavage, the full breasts tipped with soft brown buds.

B'Elanna is aesthetically pleasing, the Borg noted idly. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those fat little nipples, to run her tongue over the smooth skin of that generous flesh ... abruptly she froze in utter horror, her eyes wide. B'Elanna glanced over, frowning as she took in the Borg's expression.

"Is something wrong, Seven?" she asked, pulling on her trousers.

Seven swallowed. "I need to speak with Kathryn," she said awkwardly.

B'Elanna looked at her in confusion. "What?" she said. "So we're not going for lunch?"

"I am sorry, B'Elanna," Seven managed to get out and fled from the locker room, acutely aware of the Klingon looking after her in total amazement.

Seven tried hard to calm her rapidly beating heart as the turbolift rose smoothly toward the uppermost deck, her thoughts in a tangle as she finally stepped out onto the bridge. She took in the command center with a single glance, sweeping from the ops station to her immediate left all the way around to the tactical station to her right where Tuvok, the ship's Vulcan security chief was regarding her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Seven?" he asked evenly.

"Is Ka --- the captain in?" she asked, finding it difficult to control her voice.

He inclined his head briefly, but before he could say anything further, she was down the two small flights of stairs, bursting through the captain's ready room door. She hesitated inside, realizing suddenly that she hadn't activated the chime to announce herself ... something she hadn't done since her first few months on Voyager. Though it had never actually been stated, Seven understood that this was Janeway's sanctuary, the captain's professional space, and not even her wife could intrude on it presumptuously. Seven's face colored darkly as she stood uncertainly in front of the desk.

Janeway, who was leaning back in her chair, angled away as she studied a report, abruptly swung around to see who had entered. Her eyes narrowed, the brief flash of anger giving way immediately to concern as she took in her partner's sudden appearance.

"Annika?" she asked, putting the padd she had been perusing onto the smooth surface of her desk, rising to walk around the piece of furniture. "What's wrong?"

Seven took a breath. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said, schooling her voice to a calm she was far from feeling inside. "I know I should not enter here without your permission. I did not mean to forget the chime."

Janeway paused as she realized it wasn't an emergency, then leaned back against her desk, crossing her arms over her chest, tilting her head as she regarded her astrometrics officer keenly. "I'm sure you wouldn't have done so without a good reason," she allowed slowly. "What is it?"

Seven's mouth opened but no sound came out. She closed it and looked away. "I have betrayed you," she said finally, in a shamed voice. "With another."

Janeway stared at her. "What?"

"It was with B'Elanna," Seven said, her tone hushed, her head bent as she stared at the deck, tears stinging her eyes. She felt loathsome, unworthy of even being in the same room as her spouse. "In the locker room outside the holodeck."

There was a silence as Janeway regarded her in total stupefaction. When she spoke, her voice was several octaves lower ... with a distinct chill. "When?"

"Just now," Seven admitted. "After our Velocity match."

"I see," Janeway said with difficulty. "How long has this been going on?"

"Approximately ten point seven minutes."

There was another silence, longer this time as the captain took that in. When she spoke finally, her voice was gentler. "Maybe you should start again, Annika," she said. "From the beginning."

Seven did not know what to do with her hands. "B'Elanna and I were changing from our workout garments," she confessed miserably. "I looked over at her nude form and wondered what it would be like to ... kiss her breasts."

"And?"

"I ... fled," she said in a tiny voice, wishing she could stop existing right this moment. "I am so sorry, Kathryn."

Another pause which seemed to stretch on interminably, and Seven dared to look up at her partner from beneath her lashes. The captain had her hand pressed against her mouth, her dark blue eyes studying Seven, and the Borg immediately dropped her gaze again.

"That's it?" Janeway said finally, in an oddly choked voice.

Seven thought that she must have hurt her partner terribly, and she felt her heart ache with a sharp pain at the unsteadiness of the captain's tone.

"Is it not enough?" she said brokenly.

"Annika, you didn't betray me," Janeway said after a few moments.

Astounded, Seven raised her eyes to Janeway, and saw that what she had assumed was distress was actually amusement, the captain trying hard to hide her smile. Seven was profoundly outraged.

"This is not funny," she said, hurt and shaken. "I was attracted to another woman."

"Well, her breasts, at any rate," Janeway said dryly. Then, she seemed to realize how upset her partner was, and reached out, patting Seven's forearm. "Annika, it's all right. It's perfectly natural to ... 'look' once in awhile. It happens."

"It has never happened to me," Seven responded with dismay.

"Granted," Janeway allowed, reaching back to retrieve the china cup sitting on her desk, taking it with her as she ascended the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of the ready room. "But it's a perfectly human response."

The captain crossed to where a silver cylinder sat on the coffee table, unscrewing the top and pouring out a dark rush of coffee into the fine china. She resealed the thermos and picked up her cup, sipping from it as she sat down on the couch where she regarded her partner intently, her face softening when she saw that Seven had remained in place, too confused to move.

"Come up here," Janeway requested gently.

Hesitantly, Seven mounted the stairs and went over to where Janeway was patting the cushion beside her, indicating she should sit down.

"I do not have feelings for B'Elanna," Seven said with difficulty as she settled onto the couch next to her partner.

"Of course you do," Janeway countered easily. "She's your friend, and while I accept it's entirely possible that you've never noticed before, B'Elanna is a very attractive young woman. You were bound to pick up on her physical attributes sooner or later."

"But I love you," Seven replied, almost desperately.

Janeway frowned, then carefully put her cup down on the coffee table and reached over to the young woman, wrapping her up in her arms.

"I know you love me," the captain said soothingly. "I have absolutely no doubt of that." She kissed Seven sweetly on the temple, hugging her. "Annika, humans are sexual beings, and sometimes we react to external stimuli as just that. I believe that's just what happened with you. I appreciate that you don't fully understand this, and I'm sorry I was so flippant with my initial reaction."

"I do not wish to become any more human," Seven said softly. "Not if it means I will stop loving you."

"Darling, just because you had a physical reaction to another woman doesn't mean that you will stop loving me," the captain told her intently. "All it means is that ... well, that you've progressed enough on your path to Humanity to react purely on a hormonal level to certain things, rather than intellectually." She hesitated and smiled briefly. "I always knew you were attracted to me for my mind rather than my body."

Seven looked up at her. "I love your body," she protested.

Janeway put her hand warmly against the Borg's cheek. "I know," she said with a rueful smile. She took a breath. "Annika, I'm really trying to explain so that you can understand this isn't as major as you think. This falls very much into the social and cultural conditioning humans receive from a young age ... conditioning which you missed out on as a Borg drone, and are only now catching up to." She pulled Seven closer and the Borg snuggled against her partner, still feeling a bit flustered and confused, but gradually surrendering to the warmth of the embrace. The captain drew the young woman's head down onto her shoulder and tried it from another direction.

"Annika, do you like my breasts?" the captain asked quietly.

Seven glanced down at them. "Very much," she said honestly.

"What about before we fell in love?"

Seven blinked. "I did not ... think about them," she said.

"Why not?"

Seven tried to understand what her spouse was attempting to convey. "Because ... they were just a part of your body," she said slowly. "At that time, your body was ... irrelevant to me."

"Then we fell in love and my body wasn't irrelevant any more, was it?"

"No," Seven said. She nuzzled her face into the captain's neck. "It became something that I ... wanted to touch. All the time."

"Certain parts of my body such as my breasts are more ... inspiring to you in that way, aren't they? Just seeing them makes you want to touch them."

"Yes," Seven said slowly. She thought she was beginning to see where this was going. "Your breasts are very ... stimulating to me. I associate them with sharing physical pleasure with you. My body always responds when you remove your garments and they are revealed to me."

"Exactly," Janeway said in a pleased tone. "So after a while, you simply started to associate female breasts in general with sexual arousal."

Seven took a breath. "So it was not B'Elanna I wanted to kiss necessarily," she asked. "It was just her breasts?"

"Well, I'm sure it's wrapped up with curiosity and your liking for B'Elanna as a person and a whole host of other things, but yes, that's essentially it," Janeway concluded. "It just happens, Annika. It doesn't have to mean anything. It certainly doesn't mean you betrayed me. I think you just like the sight of women's breasts." She kissed Seven's forehead gently. "That doesn't, however, grant you permission to touch anyone's but mine," she said warningly though her eyes were a bright blue.

"I will not," Seven promised. She hesitated. "Can I touch yours now?"

Janeway laughed. "You're incorrigible," she said. "I'm on duty, and we're in my ready room."

"Does that mean no?" Seven asked.

Janeway regarded her, a half smile on her face. "It means," she said slowly, "that even if I let you, it's not going to lead to anything ... not here, not now."

"I agree to those conditions," Seven said readily, reaching up to kiss her as she slid her hand under the captain's tunic, seeking out the firm little mound which she cupped, squeezing gently.

Janeway allowed this for several long, leisurely moments while they kissed deeply and slowly. Then, as their respiration increased and Seven's fingers began to swirl around the tip, a distinct bump appearing through the material of the slate blue sweater, the captain reached up and took the Borg's wrist in a gentle grip.

"Enough," she said, a little breathlessly.

"Later?" Seven asked, obediently withdrawing her hand and pulling away from her spouse.

"Oh yes," Janeway murmured. "We'll resume this in our quarters in about four hours, Seven. You will be there waiting for me?"

Seven kissed her sweetly a final time before getting up. "I will comply."

Kathryn Johnson leaned back against her pillows, listening to the soft respiration of her companion slumbering in the bed beside her. She glanced over, her eyes tracing the relaxed lines of Annika's narrow face, the peaceful features of the woman she loved. She felt pleasantly lazy herself, their lovemaking having been extensive, yet sleep continued to stubbornly elude her.

Resting against the headboard, she closed her eyes as she thought about how this relationship had developed, and wondering about where it might be going. She had never been involved with a woman before, and although the difference she had discovered in this new type of relationship offered her a hope that maybe this time she'd get it right, her duty to Starfleet continued to get in the way. She had briefly entertained the idea of resigning her commission and pursuing a career as a scientist, but she realized that it wouldn't be enough. Getting back into the lab full time was no where near as appealing as her need to get back onto a starship, to take her place in the command chair and feel the sense of accomplishment and authority that role provided.

She drew herself away from that depressing train of thought with an effort, and opened her eyes, blinking in the lowered illumination. Reaching over to the night stand, she took a padd off the stack and keyed in the code to bring up the data on the nanoprobe project. Her science team had been running into the same problem the scientists on Phobos had been; they could reproduce and enhance the nanoprobes left behind by Seven quite well, but when they attempted to store them in a power pack and utilize them in a weapon as the other universe had done so easily, the nanoprobes immediately malfunctioned, turning on the phaser rifle and literally assimilating it, breaking it down into its component parts and leaving what was little more than a free form sculpture. A free form sculpture which was kept under heavy security in a Starfleet vault, but still, a biomolecular construct that did absolutely nothing.

The illumination from the padd's screen was enough to read by, and she ran through the data for what seemed the hundredth time. She knew Annika had been working on this particular padd before they had gone to bed, and she wondered if the young woman's fresh perspective and keen intellect had offered anything new. She was intrigued to discover a line of figures that she had never seen before, and before she could stop herself, she leaned over and nudged the young scientist, waking her from her sound sleep.

Hansen groaned and rolled away, putting a pillow over her head as she attempted to resume her interrupted slumber. Insistently, Johnson nudged her again.

"Annika, wake up," she said.

"What," Hansen muttered grumpily, sitting up in the bed, blinking blearily.

"What are these?" Johnson asked, showing her the screen.

"Resonance frequencies," the young woman replied, still not fully awake, yawning widely.

"Where are you getting them?" Johnson said in puzzlement. "They seem like random numbers."

"No, they're from Janeway and Seven," Hansen protested, rubbing her eyes and stretching slightly. "No one's been taking into account the origin of those nanoprobes."

"You saw that?" Johnson marveled. "After just a few days of studying this stuff."

Hansen shrugged. "Well, you know," she said in that tone Johnson had learned to recognize.

Annika wasn't always entirely comfortable with her formidable intellect, though for the most part she carried it with an almost arrogant confidence. In an intimate setting such as this, however, the scientist seemed reluctant to have it pointed out, almost as if she were afraid it would set her apart ... make her less human. Johnson knew there had been mutters from the rest of the staff about 'genetic manipulation', indicating they thought Annika had been a product of illegal genetic enhancement as others in the Federation had been, but the commodore knew better. Annika came from parents who were also frighteningly brilliant, just as their parents had been. It was inherited genius, not artificially implanted.

"Why would you even look in that area?" she asked incredulously.

Hansen took the padd from her lover, keying in more data. "Because," she said sleepily. "You and the rest are looking at these nanoprobes as microscopic machines ... like those nanites that Crusher kid developed on the Enterprise."

"You're saying they're not?"

Hansen shook her head. "They're more than that. They're cybernetic organisms, incorporating organic material ... Seven's material. They're more like her cells, not just little machines she hauls around independent of herself. They're a part of her." She keyed in more data and handed it back to the commodore. "The nanoprobes we have, however no longer have the cortical regulator to maintain their programming. As long as they remain in the stasis fluid Seven provided, they're fine, but when they're placed in the energy pack of the weapon, they're no longer in sync with our universe, and they react to protect themselves and the host."

Johnson stared at her. Though she was considered pretty smart on the scale such things were measured, there were times when she felt like she was back in the Stone Age, desperately trying to grasp the concepts of lasers, so far ahead of her did Annika think sometimes. It amazed the commodore, and filled her with a profound gratitude that she was privy to such thought processes.  It had also occurred to her that Hansen was the first person she'd ever been intimately involved with who was more intelligent than she was. She wondered if that meant Hansen was better suited to her than her other lovers had been; that on some level, she had not respected them as she did the young scientist.

"So the nanoprobes are like white blood cells," Johnson offered slowly. "When they're removed from the fluidic stasis, they react as if they're under attack from ... the resonance frequency?" She looked over at Hansen. "Why?"

The young woman shook her head. "I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Why do they assimilate the weapon casing?"

"My guess is that they perceive it as their 'host', and that the weapon has somehow been 'infected' by the wrong molecular vibration so they try to ... 'heal' it," Hansen replied, maintaining the organic reference. "The mess we're left with is probably the nanoprobes returning it to the proper quantum signature ... which really doesn't work very well in this universe."

"Were Seven's nanoprobes affected while she was here?" Johnson asked.

Hansen looked at her in admiration. "Good question," she said. "That never crossed my mind." She keyed in some more data, going over her figures a few more times. "Assuming that the nanoprobes recognized the quantum vibration had been changed in the environment around the host, they would become ... more active, though that's just a guess."

"More active?"

Hansen shrugged. "More ... efficient," she said slowly. "They'd work quicker, make the host around them work better, become more efficient, in an attempt to counteract the outside environment."

"Would that be dangerous?" Johnson asked.

Hansen stared at her, then leaned over and kissed her. "It's just like you to be concerned about someone you had met only once," she murmured lovingly. "Don't forget, Seven has her own Kathryn to look out for her."

Johnson nodded. "I know," she said, a little shyly. "Perhaps they don't know, however. After all, it's doubtful they're working on a similar project that might allow them to discover this."

"True," Hansen allowed. She grew pensive. "I don't think so," she said thoughtfully after a bit. "Seven is still partially Borg, after all, and still has the necessary cortical implant to moderate the nanoprobes. As soon as she returned to her own universe, the implant would send out a signal which would reprogram each nanoprobe, letting them know that the host was once more properly in sync with the quantum signature of the universe around it." She leaned back in the bed and closed her eyes, obviously wanting to get back to sleep. "I think any improvements they made to her system would remain, but the nanoprobes themselves wouldn't adapt any further."

"What would happen if she didn't have that implant ... to reformat the nanoprobes programming?" Johnson asked, a sick feeling sliding through her.

Hansen raised a brow, though she still didn't open her eyes. "I'm not sure," she said idly. "Without it, I guess they'd just continue to assume the host was still in a hostile environment, and try to adapt the host to defend against it."

Johnson's mouth dried instantly. "Would they eventually start to do to the host what they did to those weapon casings?" she husked. "Try to make it invulnerable to the outside universe, even if it meant eventually making it nonfunctional?"

Hansen sighed softly, sleepily. "I guess," she said. "Why?"

"My counterpart must have been assimilated by the Borg at one time," Johnson said. "Though all the implants had been removed, she still has the nanoprobes active in her system. At least, she did when she was here. Starfleet Medical included that in the report regarding her genetic resemblance to me."

That got Hansen's full attention, the young woman staring at her companion, horror edging her expression. "That's not good at all," she noted. She sat upright and took a deep breath. "Janeway's in trouble."

"What's the time period on this?" Johnson asked.

Hansen shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "The nanoprobes instantly adapt here ... but they're being placed in a 'wrong' host. They're in the right host there, and would probably 'improve' her as much as possible before replacing any organic components."

"They'd assimilate her," Johnson said flatly.

"Yes," Hansen responded. "Without the Collective or even the cranial implant to control how it's done. It could take months, maybe even years but I do think that once they start, it would be an exponential thing; the more they improved her, the faster they would adapt." Hansen put up a hand. "However, I also think it would need a trigger to start it in the first place," she said, trying to put a perspective on it. "She would have to be physically attacked or something, injured in some major way for them to kick in their full protective mode."

Johnson swallowed hard. "She's a Starfleet captain, Annika," she said. "I think we can count on her having been injured at least once since she left here."

"Wonderful," Hansen muttered.

They were silent, both contemplating this possibility.

"What can we do?" Hansen offered finally with a sigh. "Not only are they probably still in the Delta Quadrant, they're a whole universe away. It's not like we can call them up and warn them."

"No," Johnson said, settling back down against the pillows, feeling weak and helpless again. "We can't. Even if we could, we can't offer a solution. We can't even fix the nanoprobes we have."

Hansen shifted so that she was closer to the smaller woman, putting her arm over Johnson's chest and draping a leg comfortingly over her groin. "They have our intellect, Kathryn," she soothed. "Even if the scenario we envisioned came to pass, I'm sure they'd figure it out. As for our nanoprobes, just give me a few weeks. I'll discover a way to make them work."

Johnson glanced over at her, raising an amused eyebrow at the utter confidence in the younger woman's tone. "I know you will," she said. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer. "You always manage to find a way, don't you?"

"It's my job," Hansen noted softly. She reached over and kissed Johnson's ear, nuzzling her neck. "Now, what would you say if I found a way to make you feel better."

Johnson smiled.

"I'd say ... go right ahead," she replied.

One Universe Over

Janeway fired her phaser, the beam causing the flying disc to rebound off the wall and shoot toward Commander Chakotay. Voyager's first officer reacted quickly for a man of his size, firing as he moved to strike the disc, and with a definite purpose, he imposed his body between the captain and the wall, reducing the area in which she could dodge by half. She took a few steps sideways, trying to brush by him in order to get a clear shot.

Chakotay abruptly went down, skidding across the deck until he was brought up short by the wall. Immediately the disc went neutral and shot to the ceiling, hovering there as the computer intoned; "Illegal interference, Janeway. Round to Chakotay. Chakotay wins, six to four."

Outraged, Janeway lowered her phaser. "I barely touched him," she complained, even as she knew the computer would not listen. She shot a look at Chakotay who was lying on his back. "You took a dive," she accused.

"Ow," he replied.

She regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then realized that he really did have the wind knocked out of him. Confused, she went over to him, looking down. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm sure I will be in a minute," he groaned, wincing as he tested his arms and legs. He looked at her oddly. "What did you do to me?"

"I swear, Chakotay," she said, "I was just brushing by you."

He frowned, then sat up gingerly. "Yeah," he said unconvincingly. "I guess I must have been off balance." He grinned at her. "Of course, I still win."

"Oh, I don't think so," she protested immediately. "Clearly that was a faulty call by the computer. I can't be held responsible if you can't stay on your feet."

He got up. "On the contrary, captain," he said. "The computer is the final word. Apparently, your undefeated streak is over."

Her jaw firmed and her eyes flashed. "Only if this match consisted of a single round," she countered immediately. "It's the best two out of three."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," he said, eyeing her narrowly.

"You just did, Commander," she said, leaning heavily on the rank as she took her position. "Computer, begin game."

He stared at her for a moment, then with a sigh of resignation, he got up off the floor and faced her, phaser at ready.

Two victorious rounds later, Janeway made her way back to her quarters, her undefeated streak still intact. She continued to be a little outraged at her first officer, unable to believe that Chakotay would try to steal a victory by using his own clumsiness. As if she could actually knock aside a man his size simply by brushing past him. She snorted silently to herself, then smiled as she entered her cabin, spotting Seven behind the counter in her kitchenette, preparing dinner.

"Hello darling," she greeting, pausing for a kiss. "I need to shower and change."

"I anticipated that," Seven allowed, smiling briefly. She eyed the captain who was still in her Velocity outfit, sweat dampening her forehead, face flushed. "Did you win?"

"Don't I always?" Janeway said with a small smirk over her shoulder

She felt energized as she went into the ensuite, stripping off her outfit, tossing it into the recycler and activating the shower. The water seemed a little cool, and she increased the temperature, wondering why her normal setting didn't feel right. Must be a defective thermostat, she thought as the steam filled the air. She would have Seven take a look at it after dinner. She scrubbed herself down using the rough sponge, then got out, toweling herself off briskly. She chose a simple silk, cream-colored blouse and navy trousers, dressing quickly before returning to the living area where Seven had already set the table.

She spent most of the meal describing the Velocity match to Seven who made the appropriate sounds at Chakotay's perfidy, though she seemed to think that perhaps the captain was exaggerating a bit. Janeway gradually became aware of her partner looking at her oddly and she tilted her head.

"What?"

"That is your third helping," Seven pointed out. "You do not usually eat that much."

Janeway looked down at her plate in surprise. "I guess I'm hungry," she said. She flashed a grin at the Borg. "I'm glad you made more than usual. I must have used a lot of energy in the match ... I needed refueling."

"No doubt," Seven said slowly. She was still looking at Janeway oddly. "Though in truth, I have been increasing the portions for you steadily over the past few weeks."

"You have?" Janeway said, not very interested. She glanced down at her trim form. "Good thing I'm burning it off."

"You are also acting in a very ... exhilarated manner," Seven offered. "I did not realize a Velocity match would excite you so much."

Janeway thought about it. "It's not the match, Annika," she said finally. "I just feel ... I don't know ... fantastic. I'm just full of energy." She flashed a wide smile. "You should have seen Chakotay at the end. He could barely stand up. I guess there's life left in the old girl yet," she added boastfully.

Seven blinked. "I am glad you are feeling so good," she said finally. "It pleases me."

Janeway regarded her, allowing her smile to become sensual. "I want to do more than this to please you," she murmured. "After dinner."

Seven looked briefly startled, then returned the smile. "All right," she allowed.

Janeway smiled once more, and finished her dinner. Seven had a plateful of caramel brownies on the counter and the captain scooped up four for desert, snacking on them as she played with Jake who didn't seem too interested. Janeway decided that had to be due to his new schedule of spending time with all the dog lovers on the ship. They must have tired him out considerably for him not to be moving as quickly as she thought he should. Perhaps she would lighten the schedule a little.  Then she noticed that Seven had finished cleaning up the dining area and had just picked up a padd from her work console. The captain intercepted her by the desks.

"You can do that later, can't you?" the captain suggested gently, taking the padd from Seven's hand and placing it on the smooth surface of the desk.

"You were serious about making love?" Seven said with some surprise.

"Did you think I was just flirting?" Janeway asked, sliding her arms around the slender waist and nuzzling her lover's throat.

"I thought," Seven said in a appreciative tone, "that the energy you consumed in your Velocity match would result in your eventual lack of interest in any further expenditure."

"Oh, I'm still fresh," Janeway smiled. She paused as a sudden thought struck her. "Unless you aren't interested?"

"I am always interested in being with you," Seven told her sincerely, if a trifle inaccurately, bending her head to brush her lips over Janeway's.

Janeway purred as she felt the full mouth on hers, running her hands over Seven's back and sides, sliding down to cup the Borg's buttocks and pulling her closer to her as the kiss deepened, growing passionate. Suddenly, she wanted her partner with an incredible urgency, and she reached up to the back of Seven's neck, tugging open the fastening there, peeling off the skintight outfit. Together, they stumbled to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them to keep out their dog who had an unfortunate habit of trying to join them whenever they made love, the animal believing it to be some sort of new game they were trying to show him.

"You seem ... anxious tonight," Seven said as she eased the silk shirt off the captain's shoulders.

"I just want you so much," Janeway murmured, tossing Seven's outfit aside. They fell to the bed and Janeway was all over her spouse, kissing and touching the young woman's body, using her lips and tongue to taste and tease every part of Seven.

Seven gasped, clearly surprised at the aggressiveness of Janeway's assault but trying to keep up, taking her cue from her partner's level of passion. Janeway gloried in the feel of Seven's body against her, aware this was a bit rougher than they normally made love, but enjoying it anyway. A few times, she had to consciously force herself to slow down, to gentle her touch, always on the verge of crossing the line between giving pleasure and being too abrupt with her caresses.

Afterward, she lay in Seven's arms, clinging to her, feeling the last tremors of orgasm shiver through her. She felt incredibly alive, acutely aware of every millimeter of Seven's skin pressed against her. Seven held onto her tightly, her face buried in the captain's hair, unusually quiet. Janeway drew back, gazing into her lover's face, studying the narrow features closely.

"Is something wrong, darling?" she asked softly, stroking the young woman's back.

"I do not know," Seven responded, frowning briefly. "That was ... different."

"How so," Janeway asked.

"You hurt me," the Borg replied. "Inadvertently. You do not usually do that."

Shocked, Janeway stared at her. "What?" she said, voice heavy with concern. "Where."

"My shoulders," Seven said. "My back."

Janeway looked into the confused pale eyes, then glanced down at the pale smooth skin of Seven's torso. There were marks over Seven's chest and down her biceps, bluish red marks now darkening, and to Janeway's horror, there were defined imprints of her fingers where she had gripped the Borg's shoulders as she climaxed.

Seven did not bruise easily. It generally took a fairly substantial amount of pressure to even cause the skin to redden.

"What's going on here?" she said in a small voice, feeling adrift suddenly.

Either Seven was suddenly more fragile than she had ever been before ... or Janeway was much stronger. An abrupt image of her first officer appeared in her head, bent over as Chakotay desperately tried to breathe after she had defeated him in the final round. She, in contrast, had been breathing easily, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, admittedly a little thirsty, but still ready to go. She had believed that Chakotay was in dire need of a conditioning program, but now she had to admit to herself that some of the shots she had managed were almost ... inhuman. Not to mention the unrelenting endurance that had gradually just beat him down every point.

She swallowed hard and pulled away from Seven. "Something is wrong," she said. She looked over at her partner who was sitting up now, regarding her with concern. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Annika. I certainly didn't mean to. I didn't realize I was ... so strong."

"You are not," Seven said logically. "I am physically more powerful than you. I always have been."

"But I hurt you," Janeway said. "Without even thinking."

She looked at her hands as if she had never seen them before. Another memory crossed her mind, of being flung across the bridge and slamming into the science station. It should have killed her. Instead, she was repaired and back on her feet almost before Seven had gotten her to sickbay.

"Annika, I think ... it's the nanoprobes," she said in a low voice, willing it to a calmness she was far from feeling. "They're making me ... " she trailed off, uncertain what she was trying to say.

"More efficient?" Seven offered. She frowned. "In truth, I have noticed an improvement in my own efficiency recently." Her eyes met Janeway's squarely. "Not to this extent, however."

Janeway managed a brief smile, suspecting it was more like a death's head grin than anything else. "We'd better go see the Doctor," she said.

Seven nodded.

"I believe that would be ... wise."

Dr. Annika Hansen regarded the readouts with immense satisfaction as the cheers and cries of congratulations flowed around her. The propulsion unit had maintained its power level and produced a steady, measurable stream of energy which left no question about its efficiency. She had succeeded in reproducing a functional, sustainable transwarp coil which could be adapted for Federation technology. She felt thumps on her back from the rest of the science team, and provided some of her own to the other physicists as they regarded the coil glowing faintly in the test chamber.

Hansen looked around, basking in the exhilaration of her team. It hadn't taken long to get her people back once she offered a solution for the nanoprobe problem, and together they were able to come up with a functioning warp coil in less than two months. In truth, she suspected it was what she learned from the nanoprobes that allowed her to make that final breakthrough, granting her the clarity of vision to realize she had been missing a key element in the structure. She decided that Starfleet was going to be pretty happy with the Olympia facility for awhile, which would translate into greater resources and funding being poured into the labs. After all, not only had they come with a way to reproduce the nanoprobes and make them work in phaser rifles, they now had provided an improved propulsion system which would give the Federation the very edge it needed to win the Dominion war with authority.

If only Kathryn was here to share the moment with her, she thought wistfully, aware that the Commodore had taken a quick trip to Earth early that morning to offer a proposal to Starfleet Command. She wasn't sure what it was, but unquestionably, once the news of this hit, Johnson would have even more weight to throw behind her requests. Now that this project was over, Hansen had every intention of helping her ... even if it mean accepting a position on a starship with her lover, and spending the next five or ten years gallivanting all over the quadrant.

Quadrant? Hell, with this, they'd be cruising all over the galaxy.

Annika smiled and turned to the rest of her group. As she did, she happened to glance up to the catwalk high on the wall, located behind a glass partition which looked down on the lab, and spotted the distinct auburn head of a woman dressed in the black and gray uniform. Her smile widened as she realized Johnson had returned sooner than expected, and she waved, not knowing if the commodore could see her in the sea of celebrating scientists. Surely Johnson knew that something special had happened, and could make a pretty good guess as to what it was.

Hansen forced her way through the people, accepting the handshakes and good wishes that were showered on her as she made her way to the door. As she entered the cool quiet of the corridor, she touched her comm badge which was attached to the left breast of her lab coat.

"Hansen to Commodore Johnson," she said formally, schooling her voice to calm. There was a pause, and Hansen wondered if she had imagined the figure on the catwalk.

"Johnson here," said the beloved tones after a moment, cool and very proper as the commodore always was in public.

"Do you want to meet me in my quarters?" Hansen asked warmly. "There's some good news to celebrate, and I think I just happen to have a bottle of champagne in the cooler."

"That sounds wonderful," Johnson responded with a hint of humor. Then added, "I need a few moments to finish up something then I'll see you there. It will be nice to celebrate something for a change."

Hansen didn't know if she liked the sound of that, but she quickened her pace to her suite which was located in the habitat sector, a level down from where Starfleet and the Commodore maintained their quarters. Although it occurred to her as she walked in and saw the mess which was her usual style of existing, that perhaps she should have suggested they meet in Johnson's quarters instead.

Quickly, the blonde scooped up the clothes scattered haphazardly about the place, dumping them onto the floor of her bedroom closet, then gathered up all the dirty dishes and spare padds littering the various tables and counters. She threw the padds on her work console where several stacks already teetered uncertainly, and shoved the dishes into the recycler where it hummed as it reduced them to their component atoms, storing their pattern in the replicator buffer for the next time. Hansen did not have time to do anything about the dust, but she tried to plump up the pillows which had been squashed into the furrows between the cushions.

She wondered if Johnson would ever ask her to share quarters with her and how much adjusting that would take. The commodore tended to keep her suite spartan and neat in the best Starfleet tradition though Hansen was also aware the Commodore had a lowly ensign for whom keeping the CO's quarters clean was part of his duties. Maybe if Hansen had a lackey, she decided, her place would be spotless all the time, too. She wondered if she did move in with Johnson, would the commodore's lackey automatically become hers as well?

The door chime sounded, and she made another sweep around the room, kicking an previously overlooked pair of tennis shoes underneath the sofa before she answered it. Commodore Johnson regarded her sardonically, a brief smile on her lips as she entered.

"Did I give you enough time?" she said.

"Enough time for what?" Hansen responded blankly.

"To clean up the worst of the debris," the older woman said with a smile as she sat down on the couch. She winced and leaned to the side, pulling out a padd out from beneath her which she lay gently on the coffee table.

Hansen made a face at her companion. "I'll have you know I have better things to do than worry about quarters maintenance," she said. She paused. "Like building a functional transwarp coil."

Johnson's smile was wide, and quite genuine. "I hoped that was what the celebrating was about," she said.

She held out her arms and Hansen went over eagerly, accepting the embrace which pulled her onto the couch next to the smaller woman. They kissed sweetly for a few moments, not only to share the joy of Hansen's success but to welcome the commodore home, and it took a few moments before the scientist drew back, regarding her lover fondly.

"It really works, Kathryn," she told her, enthusiasm edging her tone. "Another year, and Starfleet will be able to have half their deep space vessels modified."

"That's really good news," Johnson said sincerely. "I'm so proud of you."

Hansen blushed, honestly pleased at the compliment though from anyone else, she would have immediately brushed it off. "Thank you," she said shyly. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied her companion, taking in the lines around the eyes. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Johnson said in the sort of way Hansen knew was certainly something ... but not anything the commodore was ready to talk about right at the moment. The older woman offered a smile that appeared a little forced. "Did you mention champagne?"

Annika hesitated, wondering if she should pin down the elusive Starfleet officer, then decided that a little bubbly might be just the thing to make Johnson a little more approachable. She smiled and kissed her again. "I sure did," she replied.

She uncoiled from the sofa, and went over to the small dining area where the table, replicator and wine cooler were located. Requesting a couple of champagne flutes from the replicator which obligingly materialized them, she placed them on the table, and from the cooler, she drew out a bottle of Chateau Picard '03, a gift from her mother upon Annika's graduation from the Daystrom Institute five years earlier. She had been saving it for a special occasion, and this seemed like the one, particularly since Johnson was involved. She decided that the fact that Erin Hansen and her daughter couldn't stay in a room together for more than ten minutes without tangling about Annika's decision to work for Starfleet was not going to keep her from enjoying the vintage one iota.

She struggled with the cork, and Johnson got up from the couch.

"Allow me," she offered gently.

The Commodore took the corkscrew and neatly inserted it, cracking open the bottle with a minimum of fuss, though Annika had hoped to get the traditional popping of the cork. However, it also saved the wine from foaming up and losing a good portion of it on the suite carpeting. Johnson poured the golden fluid into the glasses and placed the bottle on the table, handing one of the glasses to the scientist.

"To you and your team," the commodore said. Her eyes seem to soften and she raised her glass. "To your brilliance and tenacity which never wavered."

Annika smiled. "To you," she returned softly. "Who even when I drove you crazy, stood behind me to push me to heights I never thought I could reach."

They clinked their glasses as Johnson blushed and the commodore sipped at her champagne, clearly pleased by the toast. Hansen took a few long swallows though she didn't particularly like champagne all that much, then reached out for the commodore's hand.

"Come sit with me," she requested quietly.

They settled on the sofa once more, snuggled together side by side on the cushions.

"Can you tell me why you had to go to Earth so early this morning?" Hansen offered quietly, hoping she merely sounded curious rather than nosey.

Johnson regarded the glass in her hands. For a long moment, she didn't speak and Hansen thought that she would not answer her query at all, then the commodore took a deep breath, letting it out with almost a sigh.

"I wanted our next project to be opening a rift to the other universe," she said. "The one where Janeway and Seven are."

Hansen blinked, stunned. She had suspected a lot of possibilities, but not this.

"And?" she returned finally, after having considered a lot of other responses and discarding them.

"The admiral refused, of course," Johnson said. "Apparently there isn't enough potential for future rewards." She tipped her glass up and took a few swallows. "I didn't have anything to convince her otherwise."

Hansen absorbed this, looking at it from all angles with her analytical mind. "Why do you want to?" she asked.

Johnson looked at her. She had allowed her normal impassiveness to slide away, leaving only the woman ... only Kathryn. She looked perplexed, yearning, as if not quite understanding it herself, but knowing it was something she needed to do nonetheless.

"Do you remember what we discussed about what the nanoprobes could do to their host?" she asked and at Hansen's nod, she continued. "It haunts me, Annika. I have to know Captain Janeway and Seven are all right. I don't know why, I just do."

"All right," Hansen said, biting back her first incredulous response. "How do you propose we do this."

Johnson shot her a look of gratitude for her companion's easy acceptance of what must have been very difficult for the commodore to confide.

"I've been studying the data we accumulated when they returned to their own dimension," Johnson revealed, animation lacing her tone as she spoke. "I think if we can find a way to match the quantum signature of that universe to a vessel, specifically Voyager, within this one, it can open up a doorway to their Voyager over there, regardless of where it happens to be."

"This universe's Voyager is in mothballs," Hansen pointed out delicately. "I don't even think it has any atmosphere left at this point."

That was still a wee bit of a sore spot with Johnson. The ship's gel packs, a state-of-the-art engineering breakthrough five years earlier, had turned out to be very fragile and inefficient for continuing use so the ship, upon its return to the Alpha Quadrant, was decommissioned rather than upgraded for use in the fleet. It was currently drifting in a stationary orbit in the Utopia Planetia shipyards off Mars. Hansen had suspected that Starfleet might have been keeping it back in order to test the new transwarp coil on it, but with all the decisions that had come down recently, it was hard to tell. Still, it was unusual that an Intrepid-class vessel was left to sit for no reason at all.

"That may be changing very soon," Johnson said mysteriously. "The real problem is the energy requirements such an attempt would require." She glanced at Annika shyly, from beneath her lashes. "Maybe you could go over the numbers, give me something concrete?"

Hansen quirked an eyebrow. Johnson seemed pretty serious about this ... far more than she had anticipated. "Yes," she agreed slowly. "I could do that."

Johnson beamed and Hansen wondered if she had just stepped into something she shouldn't have. She took a breath, putting up a hand to slow her companion. "When I get a chance," she added. "The next phase of the transwarp coil project is going to start immediately, and I suspect I'm going to be quite busy. Now we have to see if we can get a ship with an integrity field strong enough to fly at that speed."

Johnson frowned. "Could you look at my data tonight?" she urged.

Hansen regarded her narrowly. "I suppose so," she allowed.

Johnson was immediately off the couch and across the room to Hansen's work console, pushing aside the stacks of padds, some of which fell to the carpet without the woman seeming to notice. Hansen was really disturbed at this point and she got up more slowly, moving over to look over the commodore's shoulder as Johnson brought up the files from the Starfleet data base. They had a lot of classified overlays to them, and Hansen wondered idly how Johnson was able to get into them so easily, or why she would go through all the necessary and extensive documentation needed to retrieve them.

It never once occurred to her that perhaps Johnson hadn't acquired them through proper channels.

Hansen's eyes narrowed as she went over the equations being displayed, and she reached by Johnson who settled back in the chair, allowing the younger woman access to the touch pad. Hansen keyed a few commands in, then raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly, Kathryn," she murmured. "This would take an amazing amount of power. If you had Voyager in mind to do this, not only would her dismantled engines and warp core have to be replaced, we'd need to increase the power output at least tenfold. I can't see it happening."

Johnson nodded though she didn't seem particularly surprised by Hansen's findings. "I had considered that," she allowed. She paused. "There is another way."

"Really?" Hansen offered, glancing at her companion. The even blue gray eyes were evaluating her steadily, a glint in them that the younger woman could not translate ... not immediately. Johnson was patient, however, and it finally dawned on Annika ... along with a great deal of dismay. "No, Kathryn. Oh, no."

"It would work though, wouldn't it?" Johnson pressed as Hansen walked away from her, pacing animatedly about the living room. "If we combined projects?"

"Oh god, Kathryn," Hansen said, staring at her as if the commodore had lost her mind. "You can't possibly be suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"If I can get Voyager to be used as the test vessel," Johnson said calmly. "It would have more than enough power."

Hansen shook her head, eyes wide. "This isn't like you, Kathryn," she said. "How would you get this past Starfleet? They've already turned you down."

"That was before I knew we had a functional transwarp coil," Johnson reminded her. She paused. "Besides, we wouldn't have to tell them. The nature of any tests is entirely up to the project head ... me ... if I can get the civilian scientist team leader ... that's you ... to agree." She tilted her head slightly. "Do you agree?"

Hansen was speechless. "Why do you want to do this?" she asked finally, in a faint voice.

"Because, we owe them," Johnson barked, suddenly energized as she bounded from her seat. "For our relationship, for being able to look at each other as more than merely roles we resented." Her face was suddenly ablaze with passionate resolve, and what Hansen recognized with a distinct thrill, was command authority. "Now our counterparts are probably in trouble by virtue of having visited this reality, and by the time they realize it, it could be too late for them to find the same kind of solution we did to stabilize the out-of-sync nanoprobes. My god, it took you months to find the proper commands to reformat the nanoprobes. All we need is to be able to contact them and tell them what to do." She looked at Hansen pleadingly, hands clenched into fists. "I need to do this, Annika," she added, her voice carefully controlled. "Will you help me?"

Hansen swallowed hard. She had never seen her companion like this. It was almost as if Johnson was finding herself again, finding the captain that had been buried deep inside, smothered under the layers of protocols and regulations. The young woman found it astounding and ... she had to admit ... incredibly attractive. Who would have thought? Kathryn Johnson, a rebel ... not the by-the-book commander Hansen had always assumed she'd been. Was this how she had been in the Delta Quadrant with only herself to rely on?

"All right," Hansen said quietly. "I'll help you." She frowned. "It could take months though," she added warningly. "It might be too late by then."

"It won't be too late," Johnson told her with absolute assurance. "We'll get to them in time." She smiled, a heartbreakingly vivid and reckless smile. "In any event, we will have tried."

"That's all that really counts."

One Universe Over

Seven leaned over the biobed, trying to smile encouragingly as she looked down on her partner, noting that yet another starburst had appeared on the beloved face, and that more of the lovely auburn hair had fallen away. Only a few clumps remained now, a few strands hanging limply from the white, mottled skin which sported more than a few of the black and silver implants. Despite the Doctor's best effort, despite all of Seven and B'Elanna's extensive knowledge, the assimilation continued to progress, though their combined efforts had managed to slow it somewhat.

The red rimmed eyes, still blue gray though overlaid with a silver sheen, blinked and focused on Seven.

"Hello darling," Janeway whispered.

Lying on her back, immobilized by the machines fighting a losing battle against the millions of nanoprobes which were shutting down the Starfleet captain, little remained of the vital woman Janeway had been only two weeks before.

"How are you feeling?" Seven asked, knowing the question was inane, but unable to come up with anything better. Tentatively, she stroked her partner's cheek, the skin feeling parchment thin over the hard, metallic shell beneath. The Borg didn't even know if her partner could even feel her touch any more.

The lips, dry and parched, twitched briefly. "Not so good," Janeway responded softly. Though there was a hint of the old, defiant humor in her tone, it was mostly gone now. Her words were a trifle slurred, as if she was having trouble structuring them. "I can't move my neck anymore."

Seven blinked rapidly, refusing to let loose the tears stinging the back of her eyes. "We will find a way," she said desperately. "We will."

"I know," Janeway said. The eyes brightened a bit; though from anger or encouragement, Seven could not tell.

"I will fix this, Kathryn," Seven said again.

She felt so frightened, so completely helpless. Her wife was being turned into a metal construct right before her eyes and she could not stop it, her vaunted intellect unable find a way to help her. She had been up for days, working feverishly, driving the other crewmembers around her unmercifully though any one of them would have gladly given their life if it meant a cure for the captain.

"We have been prodding at Harry Kim a great deal," she added, trying hard for something, anything positive. "His nanoprobes are remaining dormant. We think it is because he was injected with reconstructed ones that the Doctor enhanced rather than being assimilated as we were. Logically, therefore, it has to be the Borg element. We are also studying my nanoprobes. They show the same kind of enhancement yours does, but they ceased their advancement at a certain point. If we can determine why they stopped, perhaps we will be able to stop yours."

Janeway regarded her evenly. "Leaving me in this state?" she asked. The tip of her tongue reached out, ran over her lips though it held no moisture to wet them at all. "Annika, I once told you I would always choose life whenever possible, and I didn't understand why you wouldn't, no matter what. I believe I do, now."

"Kathryn," Seven said weakly. "Please do not say that."

"Annika, I don't want to live the rest of my life like this," the captain rasped. "Promise me ... if the only choice is between this state and not ... saving me, then you'll let me go."

"I will not," Seven told her furiously. "I will not let you go." She could no longer hold back the tears. "If you die, I will follow the very next moment. I swear that to you."

"Annika ..." Janeway began.

"No," Seven said. She leaned closer. "I will not give up on you, Kathryn. Do not dare to give up on yourself. Or on me."

Janeway's eyes closed. A single tear appeared at the corner of her right one, trembled for a brief instance, then slid slowly down the hollowed cheek. Seven had thought the captain's tear ducts had become nonfunctional. She discovered she had been wrong.

"All right," Janeway said finally, in a shaky voice. "I promise ... I'll fight to the end."

"Thank you," Seven whispered, almost overcome with relief. She lay her head down on the chest which was bulging from the mutated thoracic implant covering the woman's torso from her neck down, merging into the misshapen abdominal ridging where Janeway's stomach had been.

"Annika," Janeway husked.

Seven raised her head so that the captain could see her face.

"Yes, Kathryn," she said quietly.

"I don't know how much longer ... I'll be able to speak," Janeway said. "It's already ... hard for me to form words."

"Have faith, Kathryn," Seven urged.

"I will," Janeway said. "Come closer."

Seven did, bending over her until there was only a breath between them.

"I love you, Annika," Janeway said intently, enunciating each word with exquisite care. "I always will, no matter what form I end up. You have brought joy to my life in so many ways, have opened my heart and my soul to a passion and energy I have never known and would never have known had you not loved me. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Annika Hansen ... Seven of Nine, my darling heart. To be married to you, to have shared the past two years with you, has given me a lifetime's worth of happiness. Don't ever doubt that. Keep it forever close to you no matter what happens."

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven whispered, unable to say anything else. "I always shall." She bent closer and gently pressed her lips against the captain's, tasting the salt sweet flavor of their combined tears. "Continue to live, my love. Please, just continue to live."

"I'll do my best," Janeway said quietly, her eyes sliding shut. The small store of reserve she maintained became quickly exhausted during these brief periods of consciousness. She was sleeping 20 hours a day now, worn out by the constant battle to hold onto her rapidly disappearing humanity and the heavy combination of drugs.

With difficulty, Seven straightened, lingering a moment to gently brush her fingertips over the captain's mouth, feeling the regular warm breath flow over them. She composed herself with an effort and turned away. The captain was being held in an isolated part of sickbay, bio-insular force fields surrounding her bed, and the Borg stepped through one, her cranial implant synchronized with the energy field to allow her passage without problems. The Doctor and Sek were waiting for her. Not for the first time, Seven was profoundly grateful the medical staff were holograms. They never became tired, they never ceased their research, never paused in their dedication to finding a way to stop this creeping horror.

Never had Seven hated her Borgness as much as she did this moment. She had cause to profoundly regret her initial assimilation, had been furious with the Collective for what it had done to her, but never had she hated the microscopic machines functioning within her cells as she did now. She had always considered them tools, nothing more. Now they had a personality, an insidious, malicious intent, and she despised them with everything she was. The knowledge that she was responsible for this, that she had been the one to assimilate Janeway so many months ago, was like a dagger stabbing through her with every breath she took.

"Can we do anything for you?" Sek asked gently, the slender woman's blue eyes compassionate as she put her hand on Seven's forearm.

"No," Seven said shortly, her tone clipped as it always was now. Only with the captain did she allow her humanity to come through. "Continue to do what you must for Kathryn's comfort."

The Doctor was less easy to put off.

"When did you last sleep?" he asked bluntly.

"I do not require sleep," Seven stated positively.

"Yes, you do," he countered with unrelenting firmness. "You won't do the captain or yourself any good if you collapse." He paused, his dark eyes studying her. "If I have to, Seven, I'll sedate you."

She stared at him. "You would not dare," she spat.

"Yes, I would," he returned. For a long moment, they regarded each other, neither giving way.

Finally, Seven's eyes dropped. She could not remember ever losing such a battle of wills before with anyone, but Kathryn. Perhaps, she was too tired to function after all.

"Do not sedate me," she said, her tone altering to one of  a plea.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Go to your quarters and rest," he said. "For at least four hours. You need that much."

Seven's shoulders slumped. "Very well," she said.

She left sickbay, heading for the turbolift. She did not believe she would be able to sleep, but she knew that the doctor was correct when he said exhaustion would be detrimental to her efforts to help her partner. She needed her mind working at full capacity to find a solution to this ... something that was impossible since it was constantly on Kathryn and her condition. However, she could allow herself a certain amount of rest, and perhaps that would allow her to tackle the problem from a fresh perspective.

She desperately needed a fresh perspective. This one felt hopeless.

As the turbolift doors opened, the ship suddenly shuddered, the power flickering. When it returned, it was only in emergency mode, as if something had abruptly drained the vessel of all its energy. She stood for a moment in frozen, sleep deprived-indecision, not knowing if she should return to sickbay and check on Kathryn, or head for the bridge where she knew the captain would expect her to go, to assist the ship in facing whatever threat this was. Chakotay's voice over the comm channel shook her out of her lethargy.

"Senior staff to the bridge. Red alert. We're under attack."

Captain Kathryn Johnson ... for this mission at least, though she still wore the insignia of a commodore ... sat easily in Voyager's command chair, lounging as she looked around the bridge of her vessel with a profound and soul-deep contentment. It had taken a lot to convince Starfleet to use the scout ship to conduct the first tests of the transwarp coil, and only the timing of the breakthrough coming right on the heels of the phaser rifle adaptations, along with Annika backing her up every step of the way, had turned the tide. That, and some long standing favors pulled in from Admiral Owen Paris and her long time association with Nechayev. Here she was and for the first time in a long time, she felt ... alive.

"Ahead, one quarter impulse," she ordered, absorbing the feel of her ship as it eased out of the dry dock where it had been undergoing a complete overhaul in the station above Earth's northern hemisphere ... just as it had been all those years ago when she had departed for Deep Space 9. A lifetime ago it seemed, when Voyager was newly built and her name had been Janeway, and she was only going to spend a week or so chasing about the Bajoran badlands to retrieve her security chief from the Maquis.

She glanced over at the dark skinned Vulcan operating the tactical console, just as he had for so many years in the Delta Quadrant. She had called Tuvok a month ago, and without asking any questions, he had left his posting on Vulcan as Starfleet liaison to the Science Academy to take up this role, just as if he had never left. It was a comfortable feeling to see him there, one that warmed her heart and left her almost aching from the sheer happiness of it.

Behind her and to the left, the short form of Ensign Nog worked the operations board. Johnson knew the young Ferengi had an artificial leg, a legacy of a wound received in a battle with the Jem'Hadar. This would be a change for him, a science mission rather than one that was purely military as he worked his way back to active duty in the regular fleet. She hoped he would appreciate the change of pace after such a traumatic time.

To the front of the bridge, the stiff-backed Ensign Ro Laren manned the helm, her slender hands moving lightly over the controls as she obeyed the captain's orders. Fresh out of a Federation penal colony, the Starfleet officer-turned-Maquis-turned Starfleet reclamation project kept her eyes front and center. What was this? Johnson wondered idly. The Bajoran woman's third chance at redemption? Her fourth?

Johnson didn't care. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed right not to have an ex-convict at the helm of Voyager. She swallowed the laugh that bubbled up inside her, and glanced over at her acting exec and science officer for this mission, Lt. Annika Hansen, who was frowning as she studied the readouts on her monitor. The young blonde had been forced to accept an honorary commission to be able to continue as science team leader, and despite a lot of grumbling and complaints that her parents would definitely never speak to her again after this, she put on the uniform and stuck the two gold pips on her collar.

Two other scientists who, because they were not in charge of the mission could retain their civilian status, manned the engineering and science stations respectively, maintaining a constant monitor on the transwarp coil which resided side by side with the new warp engines which had been installed on Voyager.

"Engine room," Johnson said calmly. "Prepare for warp."

"Aye, Captain," the thick Scottish brogue returned. "She'll be purring for ye in no time."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," Johnson said, repressing a smile. "Stand by."

She did not have to look to know Hansen was regarding her with that same odd expression she had from the first moment the burly engineer had appeared on board Voyager. Explaining to her that all the current Starfleet chief engineers were completely tied up with their own postings which left only the services of Captain Montgomery Scott who had come out of retirement, did not ease the young woman's discombobulation, at all. Hansen was extremely uncomfortably with knowing that her newest propulsion system was being babied along by a man who had not served in that capacity for over a hundred years. Johnson didn't know how the man had found out about the classified project, or even how he had finagled his way onto it, but had decided to be glad about it.

After all, not everyone could say they had Captain James T. Kirk's engineer on their ship, the very one who had managed to keep the original USS Enterprise intact ... sometimes in the most unusual ways ... for an entire five year mission. She considered it a good omen, and she knew that Scott and Tuvok, upon discovering their common bond of having both served with Hikaru Sulu in the past, had spent a lot of time together exchanging stories of that period as she listened avidly with shining eyes.

"Sickbay?" Johnson asked, a final check.

"We're fine here, Captain," Dr. Kate Pulaski said calmly. "Try not to shake us up too much, Kathryn."

"I'll do my best," Johnson smiled. The older woman had been one of her tutors at the Academy, and to get her for her CMO had been a real coup.

Such a rag tag band of adventurers we have, Johnson thought idly. Brought together by circumstance and random chance.

"Just like old times."

"Excuse me?"

Annika regarded her strangely, and Johnson laughed briefly. "Just thinking out loud, Lieutenant," she said, trying not to snicker at her lover's wince at the use of her temporary rank. The captain intended to fix the honorary first office status as soon as possible, but in the meantime, she was going to derive as much amusement out of it as she could She turned her head forward. "Helm, ahead, warp factor one."

"Aye, Captain," Ensign Ro said. "Warp one."

Johnson felt the acceleration thrum through her, and she smiled widely, not caring how very unprofessional that might be at the moment. This might not be for long and it might not be forever, but for now, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

One Universe Over

Janeway could feel the ship shake around her, her eyes flying open as she saw the lights above her dim, then return to half their previous strength. Her vessel was in trouble, and she raged at the paralysis that held her motionless on the bio-bed, at the monstrous element that infected her body. Never had she felt so helpless and she decided that even being a Borg drone was preferable to this. Then, she had been rendered mindless, her consciousness shoved deep in the recesses of her mind, crushed by the millions of thoughts united as one which was the Collective. Here, she was still Kathryn Janeway, still the captain even as her body betrayed her, leaving her impotent and weak, acutely aware of how defenseless she was.

It took her a few moments for her to understand what her last thoughts truly meant. She suddenly realized that she could remember everything ... every memory she had lost months earlier when an explosion robbed her of three years of life experience. Somehow, the nanoprobes had repaired and restored the neural pathways which everyone, including herself, had believed permanently damaged. She wanted to weep deep, soul-shaking sobs, she wanted to swear every foul curse she knew, she wanted to scream with laughter from the sheer, horrible irony of it.

But she could not. Her vocal cords could no longer function, which meant she couldn't even tell anyone that her memories had been completely restored. Her only consolation were the knowledge of the final words she had managed to say to Seven, and hope that just maybe they would be enough to get her spouse through the times that lay ahead.

As her body continued its relentless progression to complete immobility, Janeway's mind sank into the cottony darkness of the sedative. She regretted bitterly the promise she had made to her partner and with a final, futile, silent ranting at her fate, she slipped into unconsciousness once more.

"Are you sure about this?" Annika asked softly. She was curled up in the middle of the bed, the blankets wrapped around her hips as she leaned against the headboard, looking at her lover.

Captain Johnson, dressed in a sapphire silk robe, sat on the lounger going over some reports. She glanced up, quirking her eyebrow. "Opening the rift?" she said. She nodded. "Even if it's only enough to send a message piggybacked to some kind of signal."

"It could cost you your career," Annika said bluntly.

Hansen had been off balance ever since this whole thing had began, trying to balance this new, authoritative Johnson with the cool, almost reserved woman she had fallen in love with. A tiny part of Annika was very afraid that this vital, assertive woman might not love a too-young-for-her-intellect scientist.

Johnson's steady blue gray eyes regarded her. "It could," she allowed quietly. "If I've learned anything this past year, however, it's that I'd rather lose my career fighting as a captain on a starship, than passively give it up as a commodore in a desk job."

"This could be considered treasonous," Hansen said, trying to find the words to convey her deep concern. "You might not just lose your career in Starfleet, you might lose all chance at pursuing a scientific career as a civilian."

Johnson smiled briefly. "Then I'll buy a ship, and become a pirate," she said flippantly. "I do still have all those credits from my back pay in the Delta Quadrant."

"Oh god," Annika groaned, putting her face in her hands. "Why did I ever get involved with a starship captain."

"It's the uniform," Johnson responded lightly. She nodded at the black and gray uniforms neatly folded, resting on the night stand for morning. "Women can't resist it ... at least, that's what Chakotay always told me. Haven't you noticed more attention from the crew now that you're wearing one?"

Annika lifted her eyes and made a face at her. "Kathryn, the only thing the crew are probably noticing is that the ship's first officer and the captain 'consult' a lot, late at night." She frowned as a sudden thought struck her. "You and this Chakotay fellow never ... 'consulted' late at night, did you?"

Johnson regarded her evenly, and Annika felt a little sick, then the captain broke out in a bright smile and the scientist knew she had been had.

"Not at all," Johnson said in an amused tone. "I'm not in the habit of fraternizing with my crew."

Hansen blinked. "Then what happened with us?" she asked.

"You weren't really part of my crew at the base," Johnson said casually as she went back to her reports. "Not really. None of you were. Here, however, you are."

Annika's shoulders hunched a little. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked.

Startled, Johnson looked at her, then put down her padd and went over to the bed, slipping out of her robe and crawling between the sheets.

"I never want you to leave," she said quietly, taking Annika into her arms and holding her tightly. "I adore you and I know I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you." She kissed her and then drew back a little, looking at the scientist closely. "Don't tell me the esteemed Dr. Annika Hansen is feeling insecure?"

Hansen blushed. "Just a little," she admitted. "You're ... different, Kathryn. More than you were. I guess I'm wondering if you need me anymore."

"Of course I do," Johnson said in a sincere tone. "I'll always need you, right by my side." She paused. "Maybe it's you who doesn't want me now."

Hansen snuggled close. "Don't even think that," she responded. She nuzzled the captain gently. "I'm just worried about you, Kathryn. I'm worried about where this is going to take you."

"Hopefully to the ends of the quadrant and beyond," Johnson murmured reassuringly.

"Then, I guess I'm going along," Hansen whispered. "I might not like where the hell you're going, but I'll always find a way to get you there."

"That's all I can ask," Johnson replied with a smile. She brought down the lights with a word, and Annika was pleased to feel the elegant, long fingered hands start to trace over her body.

"I do love you, Kathryn," the young woman said softly, arching under the gentle fingertips.  "With all my heart."

"I love you too, my darling," Johnson responded, nibbling at Hansen's full, bottom lip. "You've helped me find my courage again. I'll always love you for that."

They made love slowly, sweetly, there in the big double bed beneath the window which looked out on the stars passing by, their light distorted by the warp drive. Never had Johnson been so passionate or loving as she was that night, their first on board Voyager, and Hansen found herself transported again and again to the heights of pleasure beneath the tender and intense caresses of the Starfleet captain.

Afterward, Hansen cradled her lover in her arms, watching her as she slept. Johnson's face was remarkably relaxed, all the hint of stress and unhappiness removed from it, and the young woman was acutely aware it was the chair on the bridge which had granted that, not her. She knew Johnson would not give it up this time, not easily and that if she succeeded in winning back a regular command, Hansen would be left behind unless she took certain steps which could leave her permanently estranged from her parents. Even in that case, she wondered if she would ever become comfortable competing with Johnson's other mistress, this vessel which carried them through the night toward their destiny.

A few weeks later, every preliminary test had been conducted with satisfactory results, the transwarp carrying them in days to where it had taken them years to traverse in the past. Voyager even made a stop by a planet in the Delta Quadrant, checking on a civilization there created by a race of short-lived beings called the Ocampa. When Johnson returned to the ship, her face had been absolutely glowing, and to Hansen's query, Johnson merely shook her head and told it was old business. That at least one of her decisions had turned out for the best.

The ship continued its shakedown cruise, the diverse group of individuals serving on it settling into a functional and competent crew. Of course, Hansen realized her title as first officer was truly honorary as she learned more and more of what an exec was apparently supposed to do. Tuvok was fulfilling most of that role, and seeing how easily he and the captain worked together on the every day routine of ship's business made Annika wish that Starfleet had overlooked the ludicrous protocol this time. She and the rest of the crew were profoundly relieved when Johnson finally used her command authorization to alter the chain of command, demoting Hansen and putting Tuvok in as first officer. Annika continued to maintain her role as the science officer, and even though she lost a lot of her authority, she did not care in the least. She was merely comforted by the fact that her transwarp coil was working beyond their wildest dreams.

Then came the day Johnson called her into her ready room, and handed her a padd.

"Tomorrow," she said.

Hansen looked at it and grew a little pale. She had hoped Kathryn had given up the insane scheme. Apparently, she hadn't.

"Where?" she asked.

"A little out-of-the-way system in the Heratha Sector," Janeway said.

"In the Alpha Quadrant?" Hansen said. "Isn't that a little close to Federation space."

"A little," Johnson remarked dryly. "If something untoward happens, however, I only want to be a small distance from the Federation. I have no intention of becoming stranded in the Delta Quadrant again. Certainly, we can do this anywhere. As long as it's Voyager's quantum signature we're surrounding with this field, we'll match up to where ever that universe's Voyager is. "

"Okay," Hansen said, defeated. "I'll have the deflector array modified by tomorrow morning."

Johnson offered her a big smile. "Thank you, darling," she said, leaning over to kiss her gently, completely disregarding the protocols regarding their relationship while on duty that she herself had set up.

Disgruntled, Hansen accepted the kiss, then left the ready room, heading for engineering where she would attempt to make this thing work, hopefully without Scott's 'helpful' suggestions. She wondered if Seven got along with the chief engineer of her Voyager? Or if he or she was as constantly infuriating as Scotty was.

The next day found the young scientist on the bridge, covering the science station. Tuvok took his place in the chair beside Johnson and the tactical post was now manned by a Starfleet lieutenant named Val Wallace. Hansen glanced over at the command chairs, and saw that Johnson was sitting upright at attention, completely unlike her normal slouch, aware that Kathryn was truly excited. Hansen shook her head briefly, and resumed her attention to her board, waiting for the captain's orders before conducting the test ... a situation which she never thought she would ever find herself in. She had never submitted to authority with any sort of grace, and to be doing it now was a constant source of bafflement to her.

"Engine room," Johnson barked.

"Standin' by, Capt'n," Scott responded.

"Deflector array?"

"Ready," Hansen responded, startled a little by the query even though she had been expecting it. Then added belatedly. "Ma'am."

She risked sneaking a glance over her shoulder and saw the glint in Johnson's eyes.

"It's not crunch time yet, Lieutenant," Johnson said in an oddly mild tone.

Hansen had no idea what the hell that meant, and she firmed her jaw, promising herself she wouldn't try to follow these ridiculous verbal protocols anymore.

"Prepare to channel the transwarp stream through the deflector array on my mark," Johnson said. She paused, the hair raising on the back of Hansen's neck, and then the captain, who had raised one elegant finger in the air, brought it down. "Mark."

The transwarp drive activated, and Hansen funneled the power output through the systems where it was focused and refined into a beam of pure energy, carrying a distinctive resonance frequency. It coalesced in the space directly fore of the ship, and a swirling mass opened up, almost like a quantum singularity. Hansen was kept busy, divided between looking at her readouts, and staring open mouthed at the phenomena being created on the fore viewscreen.

"The rift is open," Nog said excitedly from his post at ops. None of the crew had any idea why they were doing this ... just as with half the experiments they had been running the past month or so ... they only knew what they were supposed to do, and the fact they were actually succeeding was a source of remarkable satisfaction to them.

"Sensors?" Johnson barked.

"Sensors are detecting a ship," Wallace said. His voice faltered and he stared at the screen. "It's ... Voyager."

Only Johnson and Hansen seemed unsurprised by this information ... and of course, Tuvok, who either had been fully informed about the situation, or simply refused to let this unexpected announcement crack his Vulcan impassiveness.

"Hail them," Johnson said.

"No response, captain," Nog said. He squinted at his board. "There are other ships in the area, and the indication of weapons fire. I think they're under attack."

Johnson came out of her chair. "Identify."

"Unknown," Tuvok said. "Their warp signatures are unfamiliar. Their fire power is tremendous, however, and they seem to be venting a lot of anti-matter waste. They are a great deal larger than Voyager, and there are two of them."

Johnson's jaw twitched. "Can we go through that rift?" she said.

Hansen whirled, looking at the captain in astonishment. "Kat---Captain?"

Johnson returned her look, her features steady. "Can the rift be made big enough for us to enter?" she asked in a voice that did not allow for hesitation or questions.

"Yes," Hansen said faintly. "I'll have to increase the output by a factor of ten."

"Do it," Johnson snapped. "Ensign Ro, set a course. Bring weapons on line. Shields up. Red alert. All hands to battle stations."

Hansen jumped as the lights abruptly dimmed, and a red light cast an eerie crimson glow over the bridge. She cursed under her breath as she keyed in the proper commands to widen the aperture enough so that a vessel the size of Voyager could fly through.

"Rift is holding," she said, promising herself she'd never ever get involved with a Starfleet captain ever again. Once was too much. If this relationship didn't work out, she was going to go into a convent, because she simply wouldn't have anything left for another love affair.

"Cut transwarp," Johnson snapped. "Ahead full impulse. Take us through, Laren."

The Bajoran woman keyed in the proper commands, and the ship plunged through the hole which began to close again as soon as soon as the transwarp stream ended. They emerged into chaos, two heavy freighter type ships circling the sleek form of a Federation Intrepid-class vessel like two lumbering bears. They also had claws; their weapons raking the streamlined white hull with damaging effect. There was a brief pause as everything seemed to stop, the alien vessels undoubtedly noticing the abrupt appearance of the second vessel which looked very much like the first, and within seconds, they had turned a portion of their fire on the newcomer.

However, unlike this universe's Voyager, Johnson's ship had been upgraded to the current Starfleet shield and weapon standards, developed after two years of fighting the Jem'Hadar. They shook off the alien fire like water from a duck's back, the impacts causing only minor jolts to the bridge.

"Target their weapons array," Johnson barked. Never had Hansen seen her lover so ... animated. She realized Kathryn was actually enjoying this. "Fire at will."

Wallace's hands moved over the board, and twin phaser beams lanced out, cutting through the nearest vessel. Hansen was sickened slightly as she saw the debris and explosions that followed, knowing that there were probably lifeforms amongst that wreckage. The alien vessel heeled over, limping away slowly, and Johnson turned her attention to the second ship.

This universe's Voyager was also firing back and caught between the two assaults, the alien ship chose survival over continuing the fight, breaking away and lumbering off. Hansen breathed a sigh of relief, and glanced over at Johnson, noting the attractive flush to her cheeks, the light gleaming in the bluish-grey eyes.

"Secure from stations," the captain said smartly. "Hail the other Voyager."

The fore viewscreen flickered, changing from the blackness of space and the view of the other Intrepid-class vessel to the dark, handsome face of a man dressed in an old style Starfleet uniform. A tattoo, clearly tribal in nature, ran over his left eye from the middle of his forehead to his temple, and he had a puzzled expression.

"Commander Chakotay," Johnson said calmly.  "It's good to see you."

Hansen felt a thrill of jealousy shoot through her as the unfamiliar man eyed Johnson skeptically.

"I'm not sure what to say here," he said. "Thank you for the assist against the Malon ships ... Captain Janeway?"

"Captain Johnson," she replied, smiling warmly. "May I speak with your captain?"

He frowned. "She's unavailable," he said. "May I ask, what the hell is going on here?"

"Commodore Johnson?" Seven of Nine abruptly came into view, nudging the first officer aside. "What are you doing here?"

Hansen frowned, taking in the appearance of her counterpart. Seven was haggard, the lines under her eyes deeper and darker, her skin unnaturally pale, seeming to have aged beyond her young years. Annika didn't remember the Borg looking anything like that from her previous visit.

"We're here to warn you, Seven," Johnson explained. "Your nanoprobes were affected by coming over to our universe. It could possibly lead to possibly deadly side effects, particularly for my counterpart."

Seven looked abruptly distraught. "They already have," she exclaimed. "Kathryn is dying. Can you help her?"

Hansen took a breath. Were they too late after all?

Johnson raised her head, her chin firming as her eyes narrowed. "Annika and I are beaming over, Seven," she said. "We have a method for controlling the nanoprobes."  She favored the young Borg with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," she added in a softer voice.

"We didn't come all this way to fail now." Seven gazed in wonder at the small, compact form in the black and gray uniform who was bending over the stricken Voyager captain. She felt curiously detached, as if this was only a dream and the only reality she could hold on to was the promise that somehow, these other versions of herself and Kathryn had a cure for what was destroying her wife.

"Janeway, you're one hell of a mess," Captain Johnson said dryly, looking down into the ravaged face. "But with any luck, we'll have you up and around in no time."

"What is going on here?" the Doctor asked for the tenth time. He and Sek were completely at a loss, watching as these people took over their sickbay, staring at the odd machinery Hansen had wheeled in on a small trolley. Two security guards, looking profoundly confused, took up a position at the doors, obviously wondering what the hell they were supposed to be securing.

"We're going to reprogram the nanoprobes which are causing this," Dr. Hansen told the EMH, smiling at him. "Just like we did in our own universe. It's a piece of cake."

Seven thought the young woman sounded unnaturally cheerful, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the profoundly horrified expression which had come over Hansen's face when she first viewed Janeway's misshapen form lying on the biobed. Hansen had immediately covered it up, and now it seemed like she was almost trying to convince herself more than the Doctor. The Borg drifted over to the bed and looked down at her partner, her heart breaking when she saw the eyes looking back at her, full of confusion and not a little fear.

Seven bent over. "I know you cannot speak, Kathryn," she said softly so that only her partner could hear. "However, if you can understand me, will you blink once?"

The eyelids trembled, then closed. Seven felt a tiny bit of relief at that. "Can you blink twice?" she asked. "I will use that as a negative response."

To her gratification, the eyelids closed and opened twice, and she knew that despite the appearance of her partner, Kathryn was still in there, her mind was still functioning. The Borg rested her fingertips on Janeway's forehead, possibly the only part of the smaller woman not yet assimilated.

"Can you feel that?" Seven asked softly.

Again, a slow, single blink, and the Borg tried her best to come up with an encouraging expression. "Try to be patient, Kathryn," she requested. She straightened and regarded the commodore ... the captain, she corrected, even though the insignia adorning the gray collar of the shirt beneath the new style tunic was still that of the higher rank. But Johnson had been quite specific about how she wished to be addressed.

"What must we do?" Seven asked.

"You're going to assimilate her," Hansen interjected, attaching sensor probes to the Borg, the small, clear circles sticking to Seven's temples and neck.

The Borg glanced at the other two in shock, and the young scientist grinned. Across the biobed, Johnson spread out her hands.

"It's beyond me," the commodore admitted. "This is purely Dr. Hansen's show."

"See, it's simple, Seven," Hansen explained. "Janeway's nanoprobes are trying to restore the quantum signature of her own universe to her. She doesn't have a cranial implant to inform them that she's already there, so we're going to have to use yours to reformat them."

Seven blinked. "How?" she asked.

"I'm going to make an adjustment in your cortical node," Annika said, bringing up a probe to adjust Seven's eyepiece. When the Borg flinched away, Hansen held up her hands and waited, gentling her tone. "Seven, it's going to create a small amount of assimilation nanoprobes so that they can be used on Janeway. They will reformat her current nanoprobes and reverse the changes they've made to her organic components." She glanced down at the malformed lump on the bed, and shuddered slightly. "If you'd like, I'll even code a series of commands to make Janeway's nanoprobes go completely dormant afterward, and eventually they'll be passed out of her system as her Human immunity takes over."

Seven looked down into her partner's face, seeing the expression in the eyes, the frustration.

"She will return to her normal functionality?" she asked the question that the captain could not, knowing that was what Janeway needed to know. "And appearance?"

"She should," Annika said. She looked over at Captain Johnson. "I mean, it worked on the rifle casings with the Borg cranial implant we salvaged from that cube, right? They all looked and worked pretty much like rifles afterward."

The Doctor groaned. "Oh god," he said.

"I do not believe we have much choice," Seven said, keeping her voice from shaking with an effort. She bent over Janeway once more. "Do you wish to try?" she asked softly. "It sounds very ... unfeasible."

A single blink, firm and definite. Seven took a slow breath. "Do you wish them to deactivate the nanoprobes altogether?" she asked softly. "You will no longer have your healing ability."

Another blink, more slowly this time but there was only one, and Seven tried not to be dismayed by this, straightening up and regarding her counterpart steadily.

"Proceed," she demanded.

Annika brought the microfilament up to probe her eyepiece once more, and Seven forced herself not to cringe as a stream of data abruptly flowed into her implant, the scientist prodding the necessary nodules to enter several commands. Seven's assimilation tubules suddenly erupted from the back of her wrist, and immediately she brought them to Janeway's neck where they darted against the mottled skin, ejecting the load of the new assimilation nanoprobes. Seven understood now what they would do, how they would act as a virus, spreading through Janeway's systems, and passing on their new format to the defective ones, changing their objectives.

"Seven, the uncontrolled growth is ceasing," Sek said excitedly from where she was monitoring the captain's condition. "The implants are no longer expanding into her remaining organic tissue. In fact, they're starting to reverse completely and her organic cells are beginning to reproduce at an astounding rate."

"Hook up an IV," the Doctor said abruptly. "I don't know where those other nanoprobes got their energy, but her organic cells will need food."

Johnson and Hansen were shoved aside as the Doctor and Sek were suddenly scrambling around the biobed, trying to find a place to insert the tube for the IV unit. Seven remained where she was, looking down into the eyes of her partner as her assimilation tubules, their load delivered, returned to her wrist. She kept the fingertips of her right hand pressed against the Janeway's forehead, and she felt an incredible joy flow through her as she saw the silver sheen slowly dissipate, leaving only the blue gray irises which were full of amazement and gratitude.

So easy, Seven thought distantly.  The cure had been so obvious. How could I have overlooked it?

"You know, Seven," Annika remarked from where she and Johnson were looking on. "I don't have to change your cranial assimilation programming back now. If you keep that sub-routine, you could do this for any Borg in the future ... unassimilate them. You've just, in essence, became the anti-Borg."

Startled, Seven stared at her, the concept hitting her with the force of a phaser beam. She could not even begin to grasp the implications of that. She looked back down at her partner who had obviously heard this and wished she could get the captain's opinion ... but that would have to wait until more of the implants had receded.

"I must confer with Kathryn on this," Seven said faintly. "When she is again able to talk."

Annika shrugged, apparently unaware of what a bomb she had dropped on her counterpart. "Fine," she said. "Don't wait too long. I don't think we can stay here for much longer."

Johnson glanced at her and something undefinable passed between them. "My science officer is quite correct," the older woman said finally. "We do need to return to our own universe soon."

Seven was abruptly aware of Janeway's eyelids fluttering rapidly, trying to get her attention and she raised an eyebrow, frowning as she tried to figure out what Janeway was trying to convey. It was difficult to determine but still, she and Kathryn had been together for quite some time, she thought. Surely she had a certain amount of insight into her partner's thought processes.

"Will you stay at least until Kathryn can speak?" she asked the other captain. "I know she will want to thank you personally."

Johnson frowned. "Perhaps a few days," she said. "No more."

Hansen seemed to be about to say something, then pressed her lips together, looking a little disagreeable but not so much that a casual onlooker would notice.

Seven glanced down, gratified as the eyelids blinked once, and she knew she had guessed correctly what Janeway had wanted her to communicate, feeling an elation spread through her. It pleased her to know that she was this much in empathy with her partner and she hoped the warmth of her touch on Janeway's forehead could translate into the embrace she really wanted to give her. As she stood there, communing silently with Janeway, Seven discovered that it was becoming difficult to concentrate, the many emotions swirling around within her making it hard to think. She felt as if there was an expanding bubble of gaseous compound within her abdomen, expanding to fill her with happiness and relief, yet also bringing with it a sort of dizziness, a draining in her extremities. She trembled, aware of the Doctor looking up at her, a certain amount of alarm on his face.

"Sek," he barked.

Abruptly, Seven toppled, vaguely aware of Sek leaping over to catch her before she hit the deck.The Emergency Medical Assistant bore her weight easily as darkness overcame the Borg. Johnson took an involuntary step forward as Seven swayed, falling over. Fortunately the other woman, the slender, blonde haired female dressed in medical garb was closer, and she caught the Borg, bearing her weight easily as she carried her over to another biobed. Johnson was impressed, wondering who she was, knowing that she was probably someone Janeway had picked up on this journey in the Delta Quadrant. A journey which had been extended considerably as a result of certain decisions in this universe which had been different than Johnson's choices. The commodore tilted her head, studying the stranger. In a odd sort of way, she reminded her of Kes, the Ocampa who had joined Voyager early in her journey, but this woman was Human and appeared much older.

"What's wrong?" Hansen asked anxiously. The scientist was standing nearby, watching her counterpart with a definite expression of concern.

Sek looked back over her shoulder. "Seven has not been eating or sleeping with any sort of regularity the past two weeks," she explained calmly, pulling a sheet over the supine blonde. "I suspect it has finally caught up to her."

Annika seemed to accept this, looking a little relieved, and she glanced over at Johnson. "We need to talk," she said in a much lower tone.

Johnson did not like the sound of that, but realized it was probably inevitable. She resisted the urge to sigh, and nodded briefly. "We're returning to our vessel," she told the Doctor. "We'll maintain station keeping for another three days, taking scientific scans, then we really must return to our own universe."

"I understand," he said.

Johnson cast a quick glance over at the metallic and flesh lump on the biobed, trying to hide her revulsion. Though in a way, the mutations were so extreme that she could barely recognize her other self as the entity being transformed. She supposed she should be grateful for that ... it might keep her from having nightmares for the next ten years. She touched her comm badge.

"Janeway to Voyager," she said. "Two to beam up."

"Understood," Nog's voice responded.

The last thing Johnson saw was the dark eyes centered on her, and she wondered what her counterpart was thinking. Of course, if the woman managed to recover in time to speak before they left, she'd probably find out. She was not surprised to find that the need to find out what had happened to Janeway and Seven had left her, but she was surprised by how ... distant she now felt toward her counterpart. She wondered how much of it had to do with the shock of the whole situation ... that Janeway was not necessarily a person to her at the moment, but merely a problem to be solved, which was the only way she could handle seeing what unregulated nanoprobes could do to a human being.

Once on board her own vessel, she stepped off the dais, nodding formally at the transporter operator, and headed for the door, aware of Annika close on her heels. They did not speak as they strode through the corridor or during the entire trip in the turbolift to the bridge. Only when they were in the privacy of Johnson's ready room, did her lover give voice to her feelings.

"Kathryn, are you insane?" Hansen said, flinging her arms up in the air, her face a study in incredulity. "We've accomplished what we came for. Now let's get back before Starfleet notices we're gone."

Johnson settled into her chair behind the desk and tried not to smile. "I'm afraid it wouldn't be that simple," she said dryly, leaning back as she watched the other woman pace about in agitation. "The logs of this entire mission will be gone over with a fine-toothed comb. Starfleet will know exactly what I did."

"What we did, you mean," Annika responded, eyeing her narrowly.

Johnson shook her head. "What I did," she insisted. "I am the captain. I am totally responsible."

Hansen crossed her arms over her chest, looking at her moodily. The only thing that was missing was the young woman tapping her foot, the captain thought with idle amusement.

"No," Johnson added before Hansen could offer such a suggestion, "we're not going to tamper with the logs. That would be grounds for me to be summarily be court martialed." She leaned forward, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. "Trust me, darling," she said in a more soothing tone. "Starfleet might not like what I've done, but if I can get up on my hind legs and state that it was a command decision, then they'll find a way to handle it. If I try to hide it, or make it seem like I knew I was doing something wrong, they'll have to assume it was, and react accordingly."

Hansen looked astounded. "So you just pretend that you thought you had every right to do this, and they'll let it go?" she asked.

"Not let it go, necessarily," Johnson explained patiently. "Find a way to balance it with all the rest of the accomplishments we've managed on this mission. Just as they did when I first returned from the Delta Quadrant. Don't fool yourself, the accomplishments we've made on this shakedown mission have been considerable indeed." She pursed her lips slightly. "In any event, no one else on this ship will be held responsible. It was purely my call and I made it. I'll stand by it to the death."

Hansen exhaled audibly in frustration and collapsed in the chair facing the desk. "I don't think I'll ever understand you 'Fleet types," she said.

Johnson smiled faintly. "No, you probably won't," she agreed. "But I'm glad you keep trying anyway."

She held Hansen's gaze, the blonde finally blushing and dropping her eyes.

"You are such an infuriating woman," she mumbled.

Johnson's smile widened. "But I'm cute," she said.

"Not at all," Hansen responded tartly. "You're too ... devious to ever be considered cute."

"Devious?" Johnson tasted the word carefully. "I like it."

Hansen just snorted and Johnson leaned back in her chair. "In any event, I don't think it will hurt to remain here a day or so," the commodore added casually. "For one thing, it will give the science labs time to gather some fascinating data. Our Voyager never mapped this part of the Delta Quadrant, after all. Plus, their Voyager is still undergoing repairs from the attack. It clearly falls under the category of encountering a vessel in distress ... for which the regulations regarding our actions are very clear. We are required to assist."

"Were you always this much of a space lawyer?" Hansen asked.

Johnson's gaze grew heavy lidded. "I believe it is a skill I've acquired only in the past couple of years," she said, a bit of regret coloring her tone. "Running a science facility with civilians, required me to know just how to balance Federation law and Starfleet regulations, not to mention the fine art of diplomacy and actual outright manipulation at times." She shivered a bit. "Believe me, I find the command chair a great deal more straightforward ... and comfortable."

Hansen nodded somberly. "You're not going to give it up this time, are you," she said, a statement rather than a question. "Your command, I mean. You're going to fight for it."

"With everything I am," Johnson said evenly. She paused. "I wouldn't mind some support in that department."

Hansen was obviously surprised, either at the words or that Johnson would be open enough with her to request the assistance, the commodore wasn't sure. "I'll help you all I can," the young woman said quietly. "You can count on it, Kathryn."

Johnson felt herself soften inside. Such a marshmallow you are, Katie, she scoffed to herself.

"Thank you," she responded with sincere gratitude.

"I should point out however," Hansen added, "I'm not sure how well I'll do on any ship you might get. I mean, it's one thing to pretend to be a Starfleet officer on this mission where your crew is half civilian scientists, and the rest are either working their way back to active duty, are not trusted for regular duty, or are being hauled out of retirement. It's quite another to try to fit into an elite Starfleet crew with years of experience. Certain decisions on my part will have to be made."

Johnson nodded. "Point taken," she allowed softly. "Why not wait to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"All right," Hansen agreed in the sort of tone that let Johnson know she wasn't going to be forgetting this anytime soon. The captain suppressed a sigh. She'd just have to worry about it when the time came.

"In the meantime..." Johnson said.

"In the meantime?" Hansen repeated questioningly.

"Shall we retire to my quarters for some further scientific consulting on this?" the captain suggested. "After I debrief the crew, of course."

"Is that an order?" Hansen said cagily.

Johnson stood up, coming around the desk, heading for the door. As she passed Hansen, she trailed her hand along the young woman's cheek.

"Yes," she said. "It was."

Behind her, she heard another snort and she was smiling as she left her ready room. "All senior officers to the conference room," she said, not pausing as she crossed the lower level to the door on the other side of the bridge.

She took a seat at the head of the conference table, waited until her senior staff had trailed in, and began to debrief them ... on a need to know basis only. As far as they were concerned, this was just one more test, and that was pretty much what she wanted them to think. The only one who might have suspected different was Tuvok, and he would maintain his own counsel.

After that was finished, she and Hansen logged off duty and made their way to the captain's quarters where Johnson dug out a bottle of champagne.

"What's the occasion?" Hansen asked, having taken off her tunic, leaving her in the undershirt with the sleeves rolled up. She accepted the glass the commodore gave her, and regarded her companion curiously.

Johnson raised her glass. "To us," she said. "In a multitude of dimensions, we always seem to find a way to accomplish the impossible."

Hansen grinned. "Well, if you consider the whole concept of the relationship itself being impossible, then everything else is a cakewalk," she noted.

Johnson returned the grin. "Good point," she responded. She tilted her head and tried again. "To achieving the impossible."

"Hear, hear," Hansen said and they sipped at the bubbly liquid.

Then Johnson took Annika's hand and drew her over to the sofa. "Do you know, I didn't even get a chance to ask how the dog is doing?" the commodore said as they settled onto the cushions.

"The dog?"

"I gave Seven a puppy just before they left our universe," Johnson said. "I wonder if they still have it."

"I'm sure they do," Hansen said. "In any event, you may get the chance to speak with Janeway and Seven again when they're not so concerned with other things ... like survival."

"Yes, trivialities do go by the wayside in that event," Johnson allowed with a smile. She looked over at the young woman who had slipped an arm around her shoulders, leaning back against her. "I'm going to keep contact between the two ships to a minimum. No need to clutter the issue."

"I guess," Hansen said, obviously not caring much. She leaned closer, nuzzling the commodore's ear and Johnson realized the scientist's mind wasn't really on the conversation.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Oh yes," Hansen murmured and Johnson shivered as she felt the lips trace down her neck. "Do you know how attractive you were today?" Hansen added in a purr. "You were so forceful, all that battle station excitement ... I think it turned me on."

"Oh, it did?" Johnson said. She hesitated. "Honestly, it did me as well," she admitted, blushing slightly. "It always does. I don't know how many times I came back to these quarters after a particularly dangerous encounter and was just ... at loose ends."

Hansen pulled away, looking at her. "You were really alone during those years, weren't you?" she said softly. She placed her glass of champagne on the coffee table and drew her fingers down the other woman's face and neck. "You're not alone now," she told her in a low, husky voice.

"No," Johnson said, swallowing hard. "I don't suppose I am."

"It would be a real shame to waste all those ... loose ends," Hansen remarked, nuzzling the older woman's ear once more. "Since I am so very good at ... tying them up."

"Oh, you are?" Johnson noted softly, placing her glass on the coffee table as well and turning to her companion, wrapping her arms around her. "Show me."

Hansen did, bending her head to kiss Johnson deeply, her tongue tracing along the commodore's lips before gently slipping between them. Johnson felt a tingle go through her, the desire rising like a inexorable tide and she slid her hands down from Hansen's shoulders to her chest, running down the slope of her chest to cover the full breasts through the slate gray sweater.

Hansen muttered something inaudible and pressed closer into the caresses, using her own hands to tug at Johnson's tunic. "Let's go into the bedroom," she said.

Johnson thought that was a wonderful idea, and immediately rose from the couch, reaching down to take the blonde's hands in her own, using them to lead her companion into the bedroom. There, they finished undressing each other with languid caresses, kissing deeply and passionately by the bed, their uniforms tossed negligently onto the lounger. Over Hansen's shoulder, Johnson could see the other Voyager through the hull window, hanging like a jewel against the backdrop of space, and she caught her breath at the sheer loveliness of the vision.

"How exquisite," she murmured.

"Thank you," Hansen said and blushed, abruptly self conscious in her nakedness.

Johnson decided it would not be a wise idea to try to explain what she really meant. Instead, she just kissed the young woman again and together, they sank to the bed where she focused her full concentration on her partner, forgetting her starship for the moment, knowing it was something that she would have to maintain a constant vigilance on. Hansen truly deserved better, and while Johnson had not always been able to provide a significant part of herself to her previous lovers, she was determined to accomplish it now.

For as long as she could. Kathryn's eyes flew open, and she stared up at the ceiling of sickbay. The lights were lowered, indicating night watch, and though her sense of time had been severely tested the past few weeks, she guessed that it was about 0300 hours in the morning. She swallowed, pleased that she now had saliva, and tried to assess how she was feeling. The terrible immobility was gone from most of her body, and she thought that she could even wiggle her toes. There was still, however, an uncomfortable weight on her abdomen, and it seemed that her right side and arm continued to be numb.

Steeling herself for what she might see, she looked down toward her middle, startled to see Seven in a raised chair by the side of the bed, leaning over onto the captain, her head resting heavily on Janeway's stomach, fast asleep. Janeway's right arm was trapped beneath the Borg's chest and carefully, the captain tried to pull it out, gratified to feel the pins and needles of restored circulation lance up and down the limb which she held up, gazing in wonder at her reformed hand, wholly human, not the metal claw it had been before. She flexed it, moving each individual finger, feeling a sensation that was beyond relief, knowing only that somehow, she had been completely restored.

She glanced down at Seven again, seeing the weariness and stress in the young woman's face, the tightness around the eyepiece which framed her left eye. The captain gently placed her hand against the cheek, cupping it in the palm, and felt a wave of tenderness flow through her as the warmth of the smooth skin penetrated to her bones.

Seven did not stir, obviously exhausted, and Janeway spend several moments simply staring at her partner, loving her with all her heart and wanting nothing more than to gather her up in her arms and hold her forever. Instead, however, she tried to make do with the soft touch on Seven's face as she watched her sleep.

She became aware of someone moving closer and she glanced over, identifying the Doctor who drifted to the side of the bed opposite to where Seven was perched.

"She never gave up," he said quietly. "Not once."

"No," Janeway replied softly. "She wouldn't let me give up, either." She made a face of rueful adoration, running her fingers gently down the line of jaw. "My poor darling," she added fondly. "I put her through so much."

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow briefly. "Honestly, Captain," he noted. "I think it's a pretty even exchange. She provides her fair share of aggravation to you."

Janeway smiled. "I guess that's why we're so well suited," she said. "We're the only ones strong enough to put up with each other."

"Something like that," he agreed. He moved closer, using his medical sensor to scan the captain as he studied the screen of his tricorder. "You seem to be coming along quite nicely. The last of the implants have almost completely dissolved, and the number of nanoprobes are decreasing every hour."

"It's happening so quickly," she said.

"Well, don't forget how fast assimilation takes place initially," the Doctor reminded her. "The Borg are nothing, if not efficient."

Self-consciously, Janeway reached up with her other hand and touched her head, feeling the scalp which bristled with a fine layer of new growth. "What about my hair?" she queried.

He looked a trifle annoyed. "Captain, I appreciate that you want to return to your normal appearance as quickly as possible, but I am resisting the idea of tampering with your body any more than is absolutely necessary at the moment," he explained. "It has undergone a massive transformation, and I consider using medical techniques to stimulate follicle growth as ... unwise at this point."

"So I'm bald," she said, cutting to the chase.

"For the time being," the balding hologram sighed. "It will have to grow in naturally." He raised an eyebrow sardonically. "At least, you have that option," he added tartly.  "One might be a little more grateful for the big miracles."

"Yes, I am," she said meekly. "Thank you, Doctor." She must be on the road to recovery, she decided. His abrasive nature generally increased in direct proportion to the health of his patients.

His dark eyes softened. "Be patient, Captain," he suggested. "In the meantime, might I suggest a new dress code, one that includes hats as part of the uniform?"

So it was when she walked onto the bridge a day or so later with a jaunty red beret perched on her head, and she looked around to find every single member of the bridge crew sporting head gear of some fashion in quiet support. Chakotay boasted a black, flared Stetson, while Tom Paris had a wrinkled, dusty fedora pulled low over his baby blue eyes. Harry Kim wore a baseball cap twisted so that the rim was at the back, and even Tuvok wore a colorful bandanna, very similar to the one he had used to disguise himself during the mission to the past on Earth to stop a 20th century entrepreneur from exploiting 29th century technology.

Janeway paused, looking back over her shoulder at her partner who had accompanied her on this brief visit to the command center after leaving sickbay, only to see that Seven had somehow acquired a beret herself, blue to match her outfit. Janeway blinked rapidly against the tears welling in her eyes, and she smiled tremulously at all her senior staff.

"As you were," she ordered huskily, and they grinned back at her with unrepentant affection, though the Vulcan's expression was considerably more subdued. In his dark eyes, however, she could read his gratitude at seeing her on her feet once more. "Status?"

"Maintaining station keeping off the other Voyager's port bow," Chakotay responded.

Janeway nodded. "Commodore Johnson and Dr. Hansen will be dining in my quarters this evening," she explained. "Afterward, as soon as they beam off and their vessel has cleared our universe, resume course for the Alpha Quadrant."

"Understood," Chakotay said, reaching up to tip his hat in salute. "Ma'am."

She made a brief face at him, and smiled. "You have the conn, Commander," she said.

She was silent on the short descent to the deck containing her quarters, very aware of her partner hovering close by though Seven did not actually touch her. Janeway supposed it was something she would just have to get used to over the next few days. After all, she had frightened her partner tremendously with this one, and she remembered clearly, when Seven had been thought dead ... though she had actually transported to the Alpha Quadrant ... Janeway had made a point of visiting astrometrics approximately fifty-three times a duty shift for the entire week following the Borg's return.

She was fully cognizant of the fact that little tidbit hadn't been in the logs, personal or mission, and she realized suddenly she hadn't told anyone that her memories had returned in full. She wasn't sure exactly why she was keeping it to herself.  She supposed that she wanted to make sure they would remain permanently, rather than turn out to be some temporary side effect of the experience she had undergone.  She decided that she might be afraid they would vanish once she was fully recovered.

When the turbolift doors opened, she was not shy about reaching over to rest her hand on Seven's forearm, leaning a little on her spouse as they walked down the corridor toward their cabin. Janeway was still fairly fragile, and it occurred to her that she had gotten used to feeling at the top of her game all the time. She had to remember that even when she regained her full health, she still wouldn't be as strong as she had been in the months leading up to the final collapse.

Ruefully, she wondered how long she could hold off the people wanting to play Velocity with her. She had rather enjoyed her undefeated streak, and understood that it was unlikely that she would be able to maintain it now. She glanced over at her partner as they entered their quarters. Perhaps she would just retire from the game altogether, Janeway decided, and take up something else. Like Parcheesi or billiards. Heck, it had been awhile since she had gotten out the old pool cue and scratched the table at Sandrines. She knew she could whip everyone's ass in that, and she wondered how long it would take to teach Seven how to play.

The Borg made the captain comfortable in the chair in the living area and went over to her kitchenette, tossing the beret onto a stand in the corner. Janeway quirked an eyebrow as she saw the slender piece of furniture, obviously newly replicated, and counted three more very stylish hats hanging from the wooden hooks.  From his doggy bed, Jake came over tentatively, as if he knew she was still weak and gently lay his head on her knee. She patted him, stroking the silky red hair with true enjoyment.

"Hey boy," she crooned as she scratched behind his ears, his tail wagging so hard, his hind quarters swayed. She grinned faintly, and looked up at her spouse who was pulling out her utensils.  "So, what are we serving this evening?" she asked.

Seven looked up and smiled brightly, Janeway's heart catching at the absolute joy radiating from it.

"I believe I shall go with the chicken and vegetable stirfry," Seven told her, already laying out the ingredients from beneath the counter where she must have replicated them earlier. "It is quickly made and seems to be accepted by a wide variety of tastes."

Janeway nodded and glanced over at a wine bottle chilling in the ice bucket on the coffee table, realizing the Borg had everything well in hand. Such a perfect hostess Seven had turned into, she noted with wry amusement. A domestic goddess of formidable proportions, which was good because Janeway herself tended to be hopeless at such things.

Her comm badge chirped and she touched it. "Janeway here," she said.

"Captain Johnson and Dr. Hansen have requested permission to beam over," Chakotay told her.

"Give them the tour, Commander," she said. "Then, escort them here."

"Will do," he said and signed off.

"Seven," she said. "Quickly. Time got away from me."

The Borg came around the counter and helped the captain to her feet, supporting her as she went into the ensuite where the captain showered quickly and dressed in a midnight blue shirt and cream-colored skirt. Janeway wrapped a silk blue and silver scarf around her head like a turban, then leaned on her partner as they returned to the living area just as the door chime sounded.

"As always, darling," Janeway murmured. "Your timing is impeccable."

"And yours is improving," Seven responded lightly, brushing her lips gently over Janeway's cheek before going to the door to admit their guests.

Dr. Hansen looked around the captain's cabin surreptitiously. She was consumed with curiosity about how a Borg and a Starfleet captain would cohabitant, and she was surprised to find it quite ... homey. There was even a little kitchenette, and the delicious aroma of their meal which filled the air was underlain with a more subtle, sweetish chocolate odor.  She wondered if Seven had the same appreciation for sweets that she did.

The place was also spotless ... surprising since they had a long haired Irish Setter living with them named Jake. Johnson was clearly pleased to see it, exclaiming over how well trained it was ... Seven's doing according to Janeway ... and how big it had gotten ... Janeway's habit of feeding it unnecessary snacks, according to Seven. Annika, on the other hand, was horrified to find out it had yet to reach its mature growth, and she eyed Johnson warily as she patted and fawned over the animal.  She certainly hoped that she wasn't expected to accept such a big, hairy animal into her life anytime soon.

In any event, the quarters gave no indication of pet hair or odor, not even by the line of hedge like plants cordoning off a corner by the bedroom which clearly belonged to the dog. Hansen also noticed that there were no padds or coffee mugs left lying around the work stations, a distinct difference from her own cabin which Johnson continually threatened to declare a disaster zone. As they sat at the dinner table, the scientist's eyes kept trailing to the odd collection of knickknacks cluttering the shelves, strange ornaments and artwork, obviously gathered from a variety of planets and cultures. Some of them actually made her head ache to look at them for very long, and she wondered who had picked them out. Then her eye was taken by a holo-image sitting on the work station ... Janeway and Seven standing together, the captain in dress whites, the Borg in what appeared to be ... a wedding dress?

"Are you two married?" she blurted.

Seven looked oddly at her. "Yes, for three months," she responded, as if it should have been obvious.  Hansen saw Janeway shoot her spouse a soft look, all shy and pleased, and the young scientist felt a pang in her heart, wondering if she and Johnson would ever achieve that level of closeness.

She took another bite of her rice and vegetables, amazed at the flavor of it. She had thought the chef in Frisco's had been an artist, but this was incredible. She glanced over at Seven, wondering why a Borg would decide to acquire a skill that had, for the most part, become obsolete.

"This is wonderful," Johnson said, raising an eyebrow at the captain. "It's just like mother used to make. How did you get the replicator to reproduce all the subtleties of the flavor?"

Janeway smiled briefly at her and nodded at Seven. "Don't look at me," she said. "Seven has developed into a traditionalist, and learned all these recipes from the source, herself." At Johnson's confounded look, she held up a hand. "It's a long story," she added.

One that Hansen knew, having gotten the whole tale from Seven during the last universe-switching encounter, and she made a mental note to tell Johnson about it later.

Johnson regarded Seven with surprise, then glanced at Hansen with a speculative look in her eyes. The scientist sat up abruptly, frowning.

"Oh, no," Hansen responded warningly. "I'm not going to learn to cook from scratch if that's what you have in mind."

Obviously, that had been exactly what the commodore had in mind, and her disappointed expression made the other three smile, even Seven who had apparently detected the subtle nuances of the exchange. Johnson smiled ruefully, and glanced at Janeway.

"Wanna trade?" she asked, startling her counterpart.

Janeway laughed out loud, a husky, full-bodied laugh. "Sorry," she said, shooting an affectionate look at Seven. "I've almost finished developing my Annika into exactly what I want her to be."

Seven and Hansen exchanged significant looks at this bit of hyperbole.

"Does yours drink far too much coffee?" Seven asked in a long suffering tone.

"Oh yes," Hansen said in a similar, much put-upon voice. "Also, she never calls to say she'll be late, or worse, when she's not coming by for dinner at all."

Seven leaned over. "I have dissuaded mine of that particular flaw," she said intently. "You throw dishes at her until she apologizes."

Hansen laughed, and glanced at Johnson who was looking at the captain in commiseration.

"Only the once," Janeway protested.

"It was my birthday," Seven noted gravely, causing her spouse to blush.

Johnson also sank in her chair, and Hansen looked back at Seven. "She missed mine completely," she confided. "She didn't realize for a month and a half."

Seven winced in sympathy and together, they regarded the two older women accusingly.  Johnson and Janeway exchanged glances.

"I believe we've lost this one," Janeway noted.

"I do think a strategic retreat is in order," Johnson agreed.

"However, I've found that roses sometimes turn the tide in my favor," Janeway offered helpfully.

"Hmm, I find ice cream works as well," Johnson suggested. "Cherry Vanilla."

"No, I don't think so," Janeway objected, wincing at the thought. "Seven got violently ill the last time she tried ice cream. Of course, she had about half a pint, in addition to a huge piece of chocolate cake, five hot dogs loaded with chilli, and a stack of potato chips."

"I did not understand the concept of 'junk' food," Seven explained to her counterpart. She brightened. "It was Naomi's birthday, and she wished for me to experience the full effect."

Janeway sighed. "That you did," she said. "All over the ensuite floor."

Seven blushed. "I did not quite make it to the waste disposal unit," she admitted. "Vomiting is a human condition I am not particularly fond of."

"None of us are, darling," Janeway said with a gentle smile, reaching over to pat her partner's hand lovingly.

Hansen thought this was so unbearable cute, she wondered if she could possibly survive it. It occurred to her that the four were sharing a bond of unusual intimacy, talking easily as if they had known each other for years and years. She supposed that would be the case whenever counterparts from any universe got together ... not that it would happen often enough to make a concrete analysis of it, however.

"Who's Naomi?" she asked, trying to get off the subject of regurgitation.

"The ship's youngest crewmember," Janeway explained. "She's the only child born on Voyager in the Delta Quadrant to date."

"She is my friend," Seven added, launching into an explanation about the girl who had made such an impact on her life, and their many adventures. Hansen listened in fascination, amazed at how animated her normally cool and restrained counterpart had become.

"She's sounds like a good kid," Hansen said finally when Seven finished. She glanced over at Johnson. "Not that I would ever want any, of course," she added with a laugh.

Immediately, she knew she had said something wrong, a shadow passing over both Janeway and Seven's faces. Johnson picked up on it as well, and promptly changed the subject, directing the conversation to the trials she had faced trying to get the various people together to crew this experimental transwarp mission of Voyager. She soon had the couple smiling again with her anecdote of her first meeting with Montgomery Scott, and how the pair of them, along with Dr. Pulaski, had spent a rather interesting evening the night before their departure in a bar at Marsport Station.

Hansen joined in with her story of how she had to help the commodore recover in time to take command the next day, even as she mentally filed away the expressions her earlier words had provoked. The conversation eventually moved from the table and into the living area, where Seven served sweets and coffee.  Coffee that Johnson not only offered to trade Hansen for again, but also seemed willing to toss in all her extra credits and the new sauna she had installed in her quarters back on Mars. To which Janeway refused outright, and Hansen had the feeling that she was going to have to learn to make this particular blend. The four talked and laughed like old friends, and Hansen was struck again by how very gently Seven treated the captain, and in turn, how Janeway treated her spouse with the utmost respect and tenderness. The pair were obviously more comfortable with each other than during the last universe transversing, and the scientist hoped that one day soon, she and Johnson would achieve that same level of profound love and commitment.

Hansen was the first to notice that Janeway was starting to lag, and she nudged Johnson quietly. They made their excuses and said their good-byes, embracing the other two tightly, knowing how unlikely it was they would ever see each other again. As Johnson and Hansen stepped into the turbolift, the scientist surprised her companion by speaking up and giving an alternate destination than the transporter room they had arrived in.

"What are you doing?" Johnson asked, staring at her.

"I need to find something out," Hansen told her in a thoughtful tone. "It shouldn't take too long."

Epilogue

The next evening, with the other Voyager having departed for their own universe and their own Voyager resuming its course to the Alpha Quadrant, Seven of Nine sat on the couch with the captain cradled lovingly in her arms. She rested her chin on the soft auburn fuzz covering the warm scalp, and felt the ragged parts of her begin to slowly knit together inside.

"Do you know," she asked softly, "how very, very precious you are to me?"

"As precious as you are to me," Janeway responded quietly, snuggled up against Seven, her face pressed against the slope of the Borg's chest, her hand resting on her shoulder. The captain's legs were tucked up under her and most of her weight was leaning against the young woman, which Seven gratefully and joyfully accepted.

"This was ... a very difficult experience," the Borg admitted. "Despite the hope the transwarp coil schematics may give us for the future. It was good of them to leave them behind."

"I know, Annika," Janeway responded quietly. "But we made it through. We always manage to find a way ... even if sometimes it's our other selves that end up fixing it. Who knows, maybe we'll even be able to use those schematics someday, though for now, it looks like it would be easier to steal another coil from the Borg rather than attempt to build one ourselves."

"Yes," Seven agreed. She brushed her lips against the top of Janeway's head and hugged her lightly, not wanting to think about ship's business, or transwarp coil schematics, or anything other than the woman in her arms. "I love you, my Kathryn. I believe I understand now what you have been trying to teach me about the need to fight for life. Even if it is not for yourself, there are other people whose lives would be lessened if one was simply ... to give up."

Janeway shifted, leaning back so she could look up into her partner's face. "Funny, I was thinking how much I now understand your view that life could sometimes be so horrific, it would be impossible to want to survive it, let alone live it," she said. She smiled wistfully. "I guess, if we both keep learning, eventually we'll meet in the middle somewhere."

"That would be acceptable," Seven agreed with a hint of humor and bent her head, kissing her partner with careful tenderness.

When they parted finally, Janeway sighed and snuggled back into Seven's arms. "I love you, too, my darling," the captain murmured, her face pressed against the hollow of the Borg's throat. "In case I haven't said it in a while."

Seven smiled, knowing that Janeway was being facetious. The captain told her how she felt more now, than at any other time in their relationship, and it granted the young woman a sense of security and love which served as a solid foundation for her continued existence. The Borg glanced at the large, antique grandfather clock which had just altered its readout, noting the lateness of the hour.

"I believe it is time for bed," she suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea," Janeway agreed.

However, neither of them moved from this warm corner of the couch, holding on to each other as if afraid to let go. It was finally the chime at the door which forced them to get up, Seven untangling from her partner to go answer it.

"Who'd be stopping by at this hour?" Janeway asked with a mix of bafflement and annoyance, leaning back against the cushions.

Seven keyed the door to open, and blinked as she saw the Doctor standing there. He had an odd expression on his face, and she knew how unusual it was for him to visit. The only previous times he had been in their quarters, it had been of a medical nature, and he had beamed his matrix directly into the cabin itself. She noted that he was holding a metal cylinder, not too large but with the unmistakable markings of cryogenic suspension on the labeling.

"Doctor?" she said, eyeing him curiously.

"Sorry to stop by so late," he said, brushing past her to enter the quarters, nodding formally at Janeway who quirked an eyebrow at him. Seven returned to the sofa beside the captain as he took a seat in the chair, and set the container on the coffee table.

"I was going to save this for your next checkup," he explained, "but Sek convinced me that you should know about it as soon as possible. Now that the other Voyager has returned to its universe, I'm granted leave to pass this information along."

Janeway held up a hand. "A moment, Doctor," she instructed. "Start from the beginning."

He regarded them gravely. "Dr. Hansen came to me last night and asked me some questions that normally I would not have responded to," he revealed. "Except for the fact that she is essentially Seven herself."

"What sort of questions?" Seven asked, puzzled.

"About your medical history," the Doctor said. He hesitated. "I thought I saw where she was going so I answered them. Otherwise, I assure you, I would not. Patient confidentiality is very important to me ... as you both know."

Janeway raised her head suddenly, and Seven got the impression that her partner had just formed a tentative conclusion, one which caused the blood to drain from her face, and her eyes to shade to gray. Concerned, she reached over and took her hand, holding onto it tightly.

"Go on," Seven instructed evenly, requiring more data, and hoping that it would give her enough to make her own conclusion.

"I told her that you were incapable of reproducing genetically," the Doctor said to the young woman. "How the Borg had removed all trace of your reproductive organs. She wanted to know if you wished to have children, and I don't believe I was being presumptuous in saying that it was exceptionally important to you." A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "We agreed that this was an unfortunate state of affairs so with her cooperation, I harvested several eggs from her ovaries. They will have to be matured, of course, but they are Annika Hansen, right down to the smallest genetic strand." He patted the container, indicating exactly where those eggs were at the moment.

Seven didn't quite understand what that meant at first, then it began to sink in, and she looked over at Janeway to verify what she was thinking. Janeway's face was soft and shy, a pleased expression as she looked back at Seven, smiling warmly.

"When we choose to have children," the captain confirmed. "Genetically, they can be as much a part of you as they will be of me ... if that's what you want."

Seven did not know what she was feeling as the Doctor finally made his exit, bearing the precious container back to sickbay where it would be stored until needed. Until, Seven realized, she and Kathryn decided to create offspring. She found it hard to breathe suddenly, her heart filling her chest which seemed far too small to contain it.

"How do I thank my counterpart for this?" she asked softly as Janeway resumed her seat beside her. She was leaning forward, staring blankly at the opposite work space. "It is a gift of such magnitude."

"You can't really," Janeway said with a small smile as she wrapped her arm around Seven's waist. "You just accept it as graciously as you can, and hold that person in your heart forever. You also hope that somehow, they understand exactly what it was that they have given you, and take the same joy from it."

Seven searched for the words that seemed so lacking in the ability to convey the emotion she was experiencing. Finally she just shook her head.

"I hope they visit again," she said. "Someday."

Janeway leaned over and kissed her.

"So do I, my love," she whispered. "So do I."

One Universe Over

The Golden Gate bridge of San Francisco seemed to glow in the bright light of the Californian sunshine, the water of the bay sparkling like a thousand jewels. Johnson stared out at the scene through the huge plexiglass windows, standing at easy attention in the office of Admiral Nechayev. The insignia on her collar was still that of a commodore, but Johnson had four gold pips tucked away safely in the inner pocket of her tunic.  She wanted to be wearing them when she left here, though she knew that might prove to be a faint hope at best.  She had yet to judge the mood of the other woman who suddenly entered, moving briskly.

"Commodore," Necheyev greeted gravely, taking a seat behind the huge desk which dwarfed the tiny frame of the blonde officer. "Difficult mission?"

Kathryn turned, raising an eyebrow. "Admiral," she returned the greeting politely. "Not at all."

The small woman's eyes narrowed. "If I remember correctly, when you came to me with that wild scheme to open a rift into the other universe, I told you no.  Now I find that you've gone off and done it anyway."

Kathryn took a breath, straightening her spine. "Admiral, your refusal was based on lack of resources to create such a rift," she said firmly.  "That was solved by my science officer.  Your other concern regarding the lack of tangible benefit from such an experiment was resolved by the astrometric charts and the data we returned with."

Necheyev glared at her, then snorted. "All right, Johnson," she said, leaning back in her chair. "You know you've left us with a bit of a problem. You're not willingly going to return to being the administrator of the Olympia facility, are you?"

A muscle in Kathryn's jaw twitched. "No," she said quietly, but firmly. "I'm going to hang onto my ship with everything I've got."

Necheyev studied her keenly.  "It's about time," she said finally.

Startled, Kathryn blinked, not understanding.  "Admiral?"

The small woman's head came up.  "The worst thing you ever did was marry that Johnson fellow, and accept that promotion," she said bluntly.  "I told you then it was a mistake, and it didn't take long to discover how big."

Kathryn flushed.  "I remember," she said uncomfortably.  She took a  breath.  "Then why didn't you give me back a ship when I requested it."

Necheyev smiled faintly.  "It wasn't our place," she said pointedly.  "We don't need administrators out there, Johnson, we need leaders, especially in a Federation that's still reeling from the Dominion war.  We weren't going to send out someone who didn't even know what they wanted to be.  We had to be sure you were ready to take command, not just be given it."

Kathryn felt a little faint.  "And now you are?"

"Let's just say that someone who fights for something is a lot more useful to us than someone who just  politely asks for it with nothing more than the properly filled out paperwork," Necheyev noted slowly. Then her jaw firmed, and her eyes glinted.

"Johnson, your fate is mine to decide. Consider yourself demoted one rank as of this moment." She held a hand up as  Kathryn's eyes brightened perceptibly. "Don't start thinking of this as some sort of reward. You still went against my orders, and while you may have the only transwarp vessel at the moment, it's still some half-baked experimental mess of merged technologies.  Unless you can prove that the thing works over a certain period of time under real mission conditions, then it and your career are probably going to be dumped down the nearest black hole. Don't expect any help from Starfleet. Every screw-up we have, every officer who ever made a wrong decision, every clumsy incompetent working on his last chance, is gonna end up in your crew. Do we understand each other, Captain Johnson?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kathryn said smartly. "We do."

"Your orders for your next mission will be cut by the time you return to your ship," Nechayev said. "You also might want to inform that scientist of yours that her request for a field commission has been approved. Beginning immediately, Dr. Annika Hansen has been accorded the rank of full lieutenant, and is assigned as Voyager's senior science officer."

Kathryn stared at her, profoundly shocked.  Nechayev's smile widened appreciatively.  "Apparently, Johnson," the Admiral added with dry amusement.  "Your girlfriend has decided she wants to be in Starfleet after all.  Which is fortunate, because Command is a lot more comfortable with her being one of us if she's tagging along to monitor that propulsion drive. Otherwise, we might have had to make you leave her behind.  She's made it a lot easier for everyone concerned."

"Understood, Admiral," Kathryn said faintly.  She hadn't even known the Nechayev was aware of her relationship with Annika.  Or that Annika had been planning this.

Nechayev motioned with her head towards the door.  "You're dismissed, Captain Johnson," she said.

"Aye, ma'am," Kathryn said obediently as she turned and headed for the door. She paused briefly as it hissed open to allow her passage, and looked back over her shoulder. "Uh, Admiral?"

"Yes, Johnson?"

Kathryn smiled faintly. "The name is Janeway," she said. "Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager."

Nechayev shot her a wry look, and Kathryn laughed all the way to the transporter sector where she waited to be sent back to her ship, and to the woman she loved.   She had no way of knowing what the future held but she believed that it would prove to be ... quite interesting.

The End

•  This is the 18th in the Just Between Series.

• This is the same sort of format with only the title reversed as JB Dusk & Dawn so the title credit goes to EC Marks one more time.

• This story was posted the middle of April, 1999 when the show was moving into the final eps of season five.

Just Between Dawn & Dusk
G. L. Dartt

0400 Hours (Pre-Dawn)

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and now astrometrics officer for the starship Voyager, opened her eyes, remaining still as she took in her surroundings with keen senses. She was lying in her bed in the quarters that she shared with her partner, and a quick glance at the chronometer readout at the head of the bed revealed that she still had an hour and a half before the computer's wake up call ... another two hours before she had to actually get up.

She was stretched out on her back, her left arm up by her head, the right draped across her abdomen under the covers. She reached that hand over to the other side of the bed, touching the warm body of her spouse who was sleeping peacefully. The Borg only had to lay her fingertips on the other woman's hip for her to stir, though Captain Kathryn Janeway never really woke up as she rolled over to snuggle into the waiting embrace of Seven's arms, sighing softly before slipping back into a deep slumber.

Seven smiled faintly, Janeway's head tucked under her chin, the warm breath of the captain's respiration brushing over the Borg's neck and chest. Janeway's motion had brought the musky redolence of the previous night's lovemaking to Seven's nostrils, and she inhaled deeply, the memory it inspired warming her through and through. Beneath her jaw, the Borg could feel the short strands of auburn hair which stuck up from the captain's scalp, only a few centimeters long at this point, and she moved her chin gently back and forth, enjoying the texture of it against her skin.

A recent illness had resulted in the captain losing her hair ,and because of the nature of the virus ... essentially Borg nanoprobes running amuck ... Janeway's body had undergone an amazing amount of physical stress. She still wasn't as healed as she needed to be, and the Doctor refused to use artificial techniques on her for nothing more than cosmetic purposes. He stated firmly that the hair would just have to grow back naturally, much to the captain's displeasure, though at this point, the captain no longer wore a hat on duty. Janeway still continued to fret about her appearance however, whenever she looked in the mirror, often making disparaging comments about it to her partner. Seven, on the other hand, actually preferred it, believing that the cropped hairstyle accentuated the captain's exquisite cheekbones and brought out the classic lines and strength of her face, telling her partner this over and over. Plus the Borg truly loved running her hands over it, and even now, she pressed her lips against the top of Janeway's head, letting the soft, downy strands play over her face and cheeks, delighting in the sensation.

Janeway merely replied that her partner was just being biased in her opinion, and refused to listen to Seven's positive view of things. Of course, the Borg noted, Janeway had never been truly satisfied with her hair, regardless of its appearance. It was a character trait Seven found truly odd, because she believed the older woman's hair to be perfection itself, the rich, auburn locks seeming to glow with highlights of fire ... very suitable for the strong willed, passionate woman Kathryn embodied.

Seven's hair, in contrast, was long and blonde, usually kept up in an austere bun, but generally let down by Janeway at the end of their duty shift. Seven found the length and appearance of it to be completely irrelevant, but the captain seemed to greatly enjoy running her hands through the fine length of it, and burying her face into its mass at night, so Seven kept it at a length that reached down almost past the bottom of her shoulder blades. She smiled again as she felt the captain nuzzle into it, still asleep yet seeming to take some form of comfort from the soft blonde mat falling over her face.

It took an effort for Seven to pull her mind away from the topic of hair, and she tried to concentrate on the welcome heat of Janeway's body which was making her drowsy. She settled further into the embrace, cuddling against her partner in this very cozy spot in the center of their bed, the smaller woman's body draped over her with comforting familiarity. From the outer room, Seven could hear the respiration of the couple's Irish Setter who grunted softly in his sleep. Undoubtedly, he was 'chasing rabbits', which was how Kathryn explained Jake's unconscious twitching, though Seven did not know how he could dream about pursuing creatures he had never seen. The other regular sounds of the ship, a soft hum from the air reclamation system, along with the steady, even throb of the ship's warp engines carrying them back to the Alpha Quadrant, were profoundly relaxing, and slowly the young woman began to sink back into the warm darkness of sleep.

Janeway jerked suddenly, startling Seven awake, and the Borg looked down to see the fluttering beneath the captain's eyelids, indicating REM sleep. Seven wondered what Janeway was dreaming about, whether it was good or bad or merely confused as so many dreams were. Perhaps Kathryn too, was 'chasing rabbits', though in her case, it would more likely be Hirogen or Kazon or Borg she was attempting to dispatch with her customary efficiency. Seven drew the smaller woman closer, brushing her lips comfortingly over the smooth forehead, and the captain seemed to quiet, the rapid eye movement slowing.

Seven sighed silently and closed her eyes one more time, allowing herself to drift off. She would have to get up soon and the day promised to be a typically busy one.

0600 Hours (Dawn)

"Annika, I can't find my pips," Janeway announced, down on her hands and knees by the bed as she peered under it, hoping that the tiny metal circles which denoted rank might have fallen onto the carpet. On the other side, she could see Jake's snout snuffling enthusiastically along the deck, obviously trying to help her.

"Are they not on the night stand?" Seven's voice floated in from the ensuite where she was showering, the thrum of water hitting the wall requiring her to speak loudly.

Janeway resisted the sigh of annoyance. "I'm looking right at the night stand," she shouted back. "They're not there!"

"Have they fallen to the floor?" Seven asked rationally.

Janeway gritted her teeth. "No, dear," she said in what she hoped was an even voice. "I looked all over the floor."

The sound of the shower ceased, and through the open door of the ensuite, Janeway heard her partner's bare feet pad across the tiled floor. Seven's head leaned around the door frame, regarding Janeway curiously as she toweled her long, blond hair.

"Then logically, you must have neglected to remove them prior to recycling your uniform last night," Seven told her calmly, before disappearing back into the ensuite to finish her ablutions.

Janeway stifled the curse, realizing that Seven was probably right, which meant the captain would have to waste replicator rations for a set of new ones. Though the food replicators were now fully back on line, it required far more power from the equipment replicators to create certain inorganic materials as opposed to others. The crew's uniforms were made of natural fibers which allowed them to be recycled easily. Rank insignia however, were always made of metal, solid duranium with gold plating, and the more power it took to create an item, the higher the number of rations. The tiny circles cost ten strips each ... the main reason the crew carefully removed them before recycling their uniforms. Unless it was specifically requested, the replicator would not rematerialize the insignia along with the uniform.

"I can't believe I didn't take them off," the captain grumped as she went into the ensuite, forcing herself not to be distracted by the sight of Seven pulling on a plum colored mesh-like outfit which covered her curvaceous body like a second skin. Of course, Janeway as commanding officer, had the most pips of anyone on the ship, four bright gold circles that adorned her collar. "I always take them off."

"It does seem unusual," Seven noted as she put her hair up, glancing at her spouse's reflection in the large mirror as the captain passed behind her. "It is not like you to be so careless."

Janeway glanced at her, frowning at the implied accusation of carelessness, then blushed as she suddenly remembered why she had been in such a hurry to shove her uniform in the replicator the previous evening, anxious to get back into the bedroom. Seven had been waiting for her, gloriously naked and promising all sorts of things with her eyes and lips. That would be enough to make anyone careless, Janeway thought ruefully.

"This is your fault," the captain muttered.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Seven raise an outraged eyebrow at that, and she grinned wryly, reaching over to pat the young woman on the buttocks.

"If you hadn't been so alluring last night, I would have paid more attention to what I was doing," she elaborated.

Seven did not seem convinced. "I did not replicate my insignia when I recycled my outfit," she pointed out.

Janeway snorted. "You don't have any insignia," she countered.

Seven glanced archly at her as she left. "If I had, I would still not have been so careless as to forget to remove it from my outfit," she said, getting in the final word.

Janeway made a face at her retreating back, then keyed in the requested patterns for her pips, wincing as the readout with her total of accumulated slips reduced radically in number. She had been saving up for a personalized pool cue, and this was going to set her back by several weeks.

During the good times when power was at a surplus, crewmembers ... including the captain ... were accorded ten to fifteen rations a day, most of which were normally used for small luxury items or civilian clothing. In the very worst times, only three rations were accorded per day. With the recent damage the ship had undergone, first by getting caught in a slip stream wake, then by surviving several attacks from various aliens, they were now being limited to five strips a day. Janeway had used two of those already, one for the uniform itself, and another for the rose which she had Neelix place in the astrometrics lab every morning for Seven's eventual arrival.

Janeway took the tiny pips off the shelf where they materialized, and affixed them to her collar as she strolled back into the bedroom. Seven was standing by the bed, holding out her hand where four golden pips rested in the palm.

"You did not look behind the night stand," Seven remarked.

Janeway said a very nasty word which made Seven's eyebrows rise accordingly.

"This is going to be a very bad day," the captain predicted with authority, stalking out to the living area. "I just know it."

"Perhaps this is merely the worse part of it," Seven said in an irritatingly reasonable tone as she followed Janeway, after putting the spare pips in the night stand drawer for safe keeping. "It may improve from here."

"I doubt that very much," Janeway said, as she took a seat at the table. "Once a day starts off bad, it just tends to get worse." She glanced at Seven. "Make me some waffles this morning," she ordered.

Seven, on her way to the replicator, abruptly paused and turned, regarding her spouse with a frown. "Kathryn, I make you breakfast because I wish to," she said. "Not because it is my duty, or required of me." She came over and sat down at the table opposite Janeway, folding her arms over her chest, her jaw firming stubbornly. "I shall have a western omelet," she added pointedly. "Please."

Janeway glared back at her for a moment, then realized that fighting about it would take far more time than if she simply got up and replicated the damned breakfast.

"Fine," she said in a voice of pure ice. She got up and went over to the replicator, programming in a stack of blueberry waffles and a western omelet, bringing the plates back to the table and placing them carefully on the surface, resisting the urge to slam them down. She went over to her side of the table and began to eat, ignoring her spouse.

"Are you angry?" Seven asked after a few moments.

Janeway paused, her fork midway to her mouth and with careful deliberation, put it down. "Not yet," she said. She showed her teeth in what was not a smile. "But I'm working on it."

Seven subsided, obviously hurt, and Janeway finished her waffles, picking up her plate and putting it in the recycler. She was heading out the door when sheer common sense made her reconsider, forcing her to turn around and return to where her partner was still sitting at the table, picking at her food with little appetite. She wrapped her arms around the Borg's neck and kissed Seven's temple gently.

"I'm sorry, darling," she apologized with a soft voice into Seven's ear. "I don't mean to take you for granted, nor do I need to take my bad mood out on you."

Seven hesitated for a bit, then the tenseness left her shoulders, easing under her partner's embrace, and she reached up to put her hand on Janeway's forearm which was pressed across her chest.

"I am sorry that I chose this morning to make the point," Seven replied quietly. "When things already seemed difficult for you."  She brought her head back so that her cheek was against Janeway's, rubbing against it slightly with warm apology. "I shall deliver your thermos to the bridge a little later," she promised.

"Thank you, love," Janeway said, tilting her head and moving around so that she could look into the pale blue eyes. "Are we okay now?"

"No," Seven said, surprising the captain. The Borg reached up and pulled Janeway onto her lap where she kissed her soundly. "Now we are 'okay'," she said firmly once they had finally finished the kiss.

Janeway smiled and took a moment to relax against her partner, drawing her fingertips lovingly down the Borg's cheek. "I'm glad," she said softly, kissing her back gently. "Maybe you were correct. The day's already looking up."

When she arrived on the bridge, however, she discovered a stack of personnel reports waiting for her, having forgotten that she had been avoiding them for the past week. They were due the next day, and she no longer had the option of putting them aside.

Chakotay, her first officer, grinned at her as he helpfully handed her the padds, and she favored him with a stern look. Then her eyes narrowed as she regarded the Maquis emblem gleaming golden on his collar.

"Have you had to replicate your insignia often?" she asked suddenly as she grudgingly accepted the padds.

He blinked, shrugging briefly. "I've only had to do it once, early on when I was still getting used to the uniform," he said, unknowingly sticking a needle into Janeway who had been required to replicate various pips at least twenty times during the past five years they had journeyed through the Delta Quadrant.

Then, she realized that fifteen of those occasions had occurred within the last few months when she kept losing the tiny buttons during enthusiastic undressing prior to making love with Seven. She weighed her intensely delightful sex life with Chakotay's less than successful one, and decided she was still coming out ahead despite all the rations it had cost. Still, she was curious.

"How many strips?" she insisted.

"Twenty," he responded. He grinned faintly as if knowing the reason she was asking. "It takes more than one of your pips do, but on the other hand, I only have the one insignia."

Her jaw tightened and she granted him a disgruntled look which only served to widen his grin, and without another word, she tucked the padds under her arm and headed for her ready room. Sometimes, it just wasn't fair being captain.

She settled behind her desk and set to work, wondering why she simply didn't toss aside this much despised chore, or better still, delegate it to some poor unsuspecting senior officer. After all, it wasn't as if she were able to pass the updated files on to Starfleet Command as they would be if this were the Alpha Quadrant, nor was it likely that there was any recommendation that she might make in them that the entire ship didn't already know about.  One of her department heads, such as Tuvok or Chakotay, could easily take care of filling them out, and since these type of reports were used by the brass in deciding new postings, promotions and transfers within the fleet ... of which, her ship was quite a long distance away from ... it really did seem like a study in futility sometimes.

Still, there would come a day when Voyager would finally slide into orbit around Earth, and when her vessel downloaded its data banks, Janeway wanted every piece of the required paperwork to be in place and complete to the last detail, done exactly as protocol dictated. Janeway had, from the first moment they had been lost, determined that Voyager would continue to operate as a Starfleet ship despite its diverse crew, and her pride would not allow her to shirk her duty when she fully expected her people to abide by Starfleet regulations.

Twenty minutes later, Harry Kim entered, bearing the thermos which Seven had promised to drop by, and Janeway gratefully took a break, pouring herself the day's first cup of coffee. She inhaled the deep rich odor of the dark liquid, and sipped it with full enjoyment, thinking not for the first time, how fortunate she was to have found Seven.

She was also truly thankful that she had made up with her before leaving their quarters, knowing that she would have had to do with the considerably less delicious coffee from the replicator for the rest of the day if she had insisted on hanging onto to her wounded pride rather than apologizing to her spouse.

That would have been unbearable.

0700 Hours

Jake's ears perked up as Seven left the quarters, bearing the silver thermos beneath her arm. He waited until he heard her footsteps trail away, and he gobbled up the last of his breakfast before going over to the door where she had exited. He had discovered a week or so earlier that when he leaped up, bracing his paws against a certain area of the wall, the portal would open, granting free admittance to the world outside. Of course, he had no idea that he had finally just reached a size which allowed the tip of his snout to break the sensor beam which activated the door.

Neither did his mistresses, or there would have been a seal immediately placed on the beam to prevent the sensor from recognizing him as something which had access to go through that door.

Until they did however, Jake had full run of the ship ... or as far as he was able to explore. He had been over most of it before of course, but that had been on the end of a leash wielded by his smaller mistress, the one called Kathryn, the pack's lead bitch, though she was more commonly known as simply; 'Captain'. Actually, Jake had noted, very few beings in this world called his mistress 'Kathryn'. That seemed a name reserved for his other person, and when Seven said it, there was such love and emotion in her voice that Jake's tail inevitably wagged when he heard it spoken. Seven's special name was 'Annika', but again, that seemed reserved only for his other mistress. He guessed that when he had finally achieved a special name as the other two members in his pack had, he too would be considered someone of authority by the rest of the crew.

He trotted down the corridor, heading for the lift at the end of the hall. Once there, he leaped up to activate the sensor and went inside once the doors obligingly parted. The first day he escaped from his quarters, a passing crewmember had discovered Jake sitting wistfully in the turbolift which of course, would not move without a destination. In a fit of whimsey, the crewmember gave the computer instructions to go up one level for every bark though no further than deck two ... he was prudent enough to realize any animal, even the captain's, would not be welcome on the bridge ... and down one level for every two barks. Then, the crewmember went about his way, vastly amused by his accomplishment, but knowing he should probably never claim credit for it.

As far as Jake was concerned, it was a simple enough system, and he was a very smart pup. It didn't take long before the animal realized that when he barked, the turbolift would move, just as it did when he was with his mistress on a walk. He was never particular about where he went, and since he had come to know every level on the ship, generally he could find something to do no matter what deck the turbolift deposited him on.

When it finally stopped and the doors opened once more, he trotted off, identifying where he was by the scent. Happily, he loped down the corridor to where a double set of doors guarded a most intriguing place. He knew he was not allowed inside ... both his mistress and the odd little being who inhabited the interior had been quite clear on that ... but if he politely sat outside long enough and looked exceedingly pitiful, the people who were exiting occasionally went back in and returned with a little bit of food. As did the odd little man on occasion.

Some time later, stuffed to the gills ... it had been supper time for the gamma shift ... Jake followed a group of crewmembers back into the turbolift. When he first ventured out into the world alone, people had looked at him oddly and exclaimed a bit, but the general consensus of the crew was that if the captain was giving him the run of the ship, that was certainly her prerogative. He was exceptionally well-mannered, behavior instilled in him with painstaking precision by Seven over a long period of time, and most crewmembers tended to either ignore him or accept his appearance as a nice break in their day. For some odd reason, not once did it seem to occur to a great many of them that the pet's daily jaunts about the ship were still completely unknown to the captain and Seven. For those that did consider it, the concept was greeted by great glee and considerable bets were laid as to how long it would take the couple to find out.

All the food the crewmembers had given him resulted in certain predictable biological results and when the turbolift finally stopped and everyone got off, Jake trotted directly to the small alcove which was set off at one end of an auxiliary corridor. Every deck boasted a device that Seven had invented to take care of such things, and Jake was quite familiar with each one, having been repeatedly taught that those were the only places where he could leave his spore. He obligingly did his business where he was supposed to, then made his way to the place he liked to visit on this deck; the gymnasium where a portion of the crew were working out

He trotted through the space filled with people sweating and playing, accepting the pats and praise from the dog lovers as his due. He did not approach those he sensed were afraid or did not like him. Then, after having had his fill of basking in the attention, he headed out the door, intent on going where ever chance might take him.

He sensed that today was going to be a very good day.

0800 Hours

Seven of Nine ran her console through a diagnostic as she simultaneously reconfigured the sensor array, working quickly and efficiently. The last attack by the pirates, a local band of nomads which proliferated through this sector, had jarred things slightly out of alignment, and Seven knew it was best to get these things done when the opportunity arose and the situation was quiet. She glanced up as the doors to astrometrics hissed opened, and the ship's helmsman, Lt. Tom Paris entered. It was rare to see Paris down on this deck, even though he very often navigated by the very star charts she assembled, and she quirked an eyebrow inquiringly as the boyishly handsome crewmember approached.

"Hey, Seven," he greeted.

"Lt. Paris," she returned evenly. She placed an automatic configuration on her board, allowing it to continue without requiring her input, and granted the young man her full attention. That was not something that she would have done a year earlier, but she had tempered her attitude with far more politeness since falling in love with the captain. "May I help you?"

"Uh, I wanted to know if the new charts are ready," he asked.

Seven frowned faintly, wondering at that. "I sent the new charts to the bridge yesterday before logging off duty," she responded, a trifle confused.

"Oh," he said. He held up his hand. "My fault, I left duty early yesterday, and today's my day off. I haven't been to the bridge."

"Then why are you concerned about them?" she asked, eyeing him narrowly. He seemed ill at ease, as if he were here for some other reason, but finding it difficult to speak about it.

He grinned ruefully. "I guess I should know better than try any sort of a pretense with you, Seven," he admitted, a lock of fair hair falling into his light blue eyes. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Ah," Seven said, intrigued as she resumed her attention to her board. "I, however, am on duty. Can you speak while I work?"

"Sure," he said, leaning against the console. Yet he did not begin the conversation immediately; instead, he reached out a fingertip to touch the petals of the single red rose which was placed in a crystal vase perched on the top of Seven's console. "Secret admirer?"

She keyed in some more data, then looked at him evenly. "The rose is from Kathryn," she explained. "It is a romantic gesture to indicate she is thinking about me while we are not together."

"Oh," he said, blushing a bit though Seven did not know why. He took a breath. "I guess I'm not used to thinking of the captain like ... that."

"Like what?" she asked curiously, transfering a file which needed updating.

"Oh, you know," he said. "A romantic ... a woman in love."

"She is ... 'a woman in love'," Seven remarked. He seemed to be disassembling, not addressing the real reason he wished to speak with her. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. "As am I."

He smiled, shaking his head. "I know," he said. "Sometimes I still can't believe you two ever got together."

She paused in her motion, then resumed. "Indeed," she said, her voice becoming icy.

He seemed to realize he had made an error in judgement. "Not that you two shouldn't be together," he stammered. "I just meant that you're both so different ... not necessarily the pair I would have expected to have ..." He trailed off before he got in any deeper.

She looked him full in the face. "What is it that you want, Lt. Paris?" she said, impatient finally with his lack of precision.

He stared at her a moment, then took a breath, almost a sigh. "I want B'Elanna back," he said.

"Indeed?"  She raised her head briefly in surprise. "You feel that I have some contribution to offer in achieving that goal?" she asked uneasily.

"You're her friend," he said, leaning toward her intently. "You know her better than anyone on the ship, and you could tell me the best way to approach her so that we can try our relationship again."

"Lt. Paris," she said, desperately searching for a way out. "I do not believe that you and B'Elanna are even suitable for each other." That one stung him, she saw and she realized that aside from Janeway, she had never revealed that to anyone, not even to B'Elanna.

"Oh," he said and she regretted that she had hurt him. He paused, obviously trying to think of a way to counter it. "You know, a lot of people didn't think you and the captain were suitable for each other either," he blurted.

Seven blinked. She had not known that at all. "I see," she said slowly.

"But that didn't stop you from wanting to be with Captain Janeway, did it?" he asked challengingly.

"No, it did not," she replied honestly. Nor would it, had she known about it.

"So you can understand why I want to be with B'Elanna, even though others might not think it would work," he concluded triumphantly. He assumed a pleading expression. "I love her, Seven. I can't stop thinking about her."

Seven took a deep breath, wishing for a red alert or something equally as useful to rescue her from this. "I do not believe she thinks of you in that manner," she pointed out bluntly.

"Maybe not, Seven," he admitted. "Maybe I'm fooling myself into thinking it could work. God knows, I love her enough to want her to be happy, even if it meant that she was with Chakotay. But when he broke her heart, I knew I had an opportunity to make things right. I swear, Seven, if I had another chance, I would never do anything that would ever hurt her again."

Seven keyed in some commands, thinking furiously. "How do you think I can assist you?" she asked finally, in a resigned tone.

He beamed, a smile spreading across his features like the sun peeping from behind dark clouds. "Sound her out, Seven," he said. "Find out if she still hates me, or if she's willing to be friends again."

Seven eyed him skeptically. "Friendship does not appear to be your goal," she noted.

He shrugged. "I'd settle for it," he said sincerely. Seven did not know if he honestly believed that, or if he was attempting to deceive her. She could not imagine being 'just friends' with Kathryn. "If it leads to something more, all the better."

"You must understand that what you ask may not be possible," Seven said flatly. "B'Elanna feels you betrayed her in a fundamental way. I do not know if she will ever be able to forgive it."

He took a breath, nodding. "I know, Seven," he said. "But I can't change the past. I can only apologize and promise never to do it again. Believe me, if I had known she was still alive, I would never have even looked at another woman."

Seven had only the vaguest experience with what he was speaking about, and thus could not offer much of an opinion. She did know however, through her conversations with B'Elanna, that the engineer had been very hurt by the helmsman's perceived infidelity, and the Borg had been suitably affected by the seriousness of what the Klingon had said. Seven had made a vow to herself that she would never hurt Janeway in the manner that Paris had hurt Torres, not even accidently. She was quick to control any impulses to 'look at another woman', and indeed, had promptly confessed to an amused Janeway the single time it had happened to her previously.

"I will 'sound her out'," she said finally, with great reluctance.

"Subtly," he added. She stared at him and he grinned weakly. "Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. Can you at least not tell her about this conversation?"

Seven frowned briefly. "If she asks, I will not lie," she said, then hesitated. "Perhaps, she will not ask."

"That's good enough," he said. He reached over, and to Seven's amazed discomfort, hugged her briefly. "Thanks Seven. I owe you one."

He strode briskly out the door, and Seven looked after him, frowning mightily, wondering if she hadn't just agreed to something which would cause nothing but aggravation in the long run. She sighed. Maybe she would speak to Kathryn about this and get her opinion. Surely the captain would be able to help her formulate some kind of a plan of action about approaching B'Elanna.

One that hopefully would not result in her being chased through the ship by an enraged Klingon.

0900 Hours

Janeway glanced up as the chime to her door sounded and she twisted her shoulders, working out some of the stiffness from having sat in one place for so long.

"Come in," she said, noting that her coffee cup needing refilling, and she carried it up to the ready room's upper level to rectify that as the door opened to admit Chakotay.

"Captain, are you busy at the moment?" he asked.

"Not at all," she lied cheerfully, conveniently forgetting about the remaining personnel reports which were still stacked on her desk. She watched as he mounted the short flight of stairs and waved him into the nearby chair. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head and she eyed him curiously as she took a seat on the couch, sipping from her cup slowly. She wondered at the way he seemed somewhat ill at ease, as if not knowing what to do with his hands, forcing herself to wait patiently as he took a deep breath and regarded her with an extremely serious expression.

"You know I'm not in the habit of bringing personal matters up while we're on duty," he said.

"I know," Janeway allowed, a little surprised, realizing this must be big for him to even come to her in the first place regardless of whether they were on duty or not. "However, we're a community, Chakotay, and when problems come up, it's best to address them when the opportunity is there. Heaven knows, our quiet times are few and far between."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. He seemed to be searching for the right words for what he had to say. Janeway's curiosity grew in leaps and bounds. "I guess I'm coming to you because you're a woman and one of the few people on the ship with a successful, on-going relationship."

"Ah," Janeway said, quirking an eyebrow. "I guess that makes me an expert on ... what? Being married to a Borg?"

He grinned weakly. "More like, knowing how to win a woman's heart and hold it close to you forever," he said.

Janeway blinked. That was a description of her that she never expected to hear. "I see," she said slowly. "Do you require some advice in that area?"

"It's B'Elanna," he said. He took a breath. "I thought it was over ... I guess I thought I wanted it to be, but the truth is, I can't get her out of my mind. I want her back, Kathryn. I think you're the one who can help me do it."

Janeway felt the coffee go up her nose, having been in the unfortunate position of sipping it when he related this choice bit of information, and for a few moments, she was fully occupied with not choking to death. Alarmed, Chakotay helpfully thumped her on the back as she coughed and sputtered, finally managing to wipe her face with a napkin.

"Are you all right, Captain?" he asked with concern.

She waved her hand weakly. "I'm fine," she wheezed. "It just went down the wrong way." She composed herself and settled back on the sofa cushions, looking at him warily. "How do you think I can help?" she asked.

"Well, I wouldn't ask you to talk to B'Elanna," he said. "Though it would be easier if I knew whether she hated me for sure or not."

"Thank you," she said, and if he noticed her tone was deeply ironic, he gave no sign of it.

"But maybe you could tell me those things you did to win Seven back," he continued. "When you were 'wooing' her."

Janeway resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly, he had been talking to Tuvok before coming to her. "I don't know that it's the same thing at all, Chakotay," she pointed out logically. "Seven wanted to be with me ... she just wasn't sure how. Also, our separation was one of circumstance, not because I had ... ah, terminated the relationship."

"That was the stupidest thing I ever did, Kathryn," he said sincerely.

She didn't argue with him since she thought it was, too. "In any event," Janeway continued. "I'm not sure if anything I could suggest would work. B'Elanna is not a woman who had spent her life in the Borg collective, and thus would probably not be ... impressed with the same gestures that Seven appreciates."

"Then what do you think would work?" he asked. "With B'Elanna, I mean."

He was staring at her intently, and suddenly Janeway wished she was anyplace but where she was. She wondered why her ship couldn't be attacked right now when she would actually find it a welcome diversion rather than a threatening proposition.

"Maybe some poetry," she offered weakly, grabbing the first thing that popped into her head. "Klingon poetry, of course. Otherwise, I'm not really sure of her tastes."

"Could you find out?" he asked guilelessly. His eyes were wide and dark, looking at her as if she were the font of wisdom, and had the answer to all things. While she usually accepted that as merely her due, right now, it was tremendously discomforting.

"I ... I will try," she said, supremely horrified at what came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

He smiled widely. "Thank you, Kathryn," he said. "You don't know how much this means to me."

She waved her hand, trying to slow him down.

"Chakotay, I can't offer any guarantees here," she warned him. "B'Elanna was very hurt by your ... decision. If there's one thing that Klingons know how to do, it's hold a grudge. Right now, she's somewhat civil to you. That could change if you made unwanted advances, and I don't want my ship to become disrupted while she tries to disembowel you."

"That's why I came to you," he said in all seriousness. "You're discreet and charming. She would accept being approached by you on my behalf a great deal easier than being approached by me directly. In fact, that's the Klingon tradition, having the elder member of the house present the qualities of a potential mate."

Janeway looked at him, wondering how insulted she should be by what he had just said.  Elder, my ass, she fumed, and desperately wished that she could come up with something that would make it clear just how bad an idea this really was.  Unfortunately, her formidable intellect merely snickered in her face and went off to do something more logical and a great deal less troubling than what she was proposing, leaving her with nothing more than a weak smile to respond with.

"Thank you," she said lamely.

"No, thank you," he said sincerely.  "I really appreciate this, Kathryn."

He got to his feet and with a final, parting smile of gratitude, he left her ready room.

Janeway sat limply on the couch, trying to adapt to what had just happened. She had been a bit of a matchmaker at one point, she knew, but none of her attempts had been particularly successful, and why people were suddenly coming to her now completely baffled her.  After all, it wasn't as if she didn't already have her hands full with her own relationship.

Which led her thoughts back to the morning and the minor tiff she and Seven had experienced at breakfast. She had apologized, but that was more to make peace rather than to resolve the actual conflict. Now she wondered if perhaps Seven had a point. Was she taking the young woman for granted? She sipped her coffee and went over the past few months since their wedding; the incident where Seven had helped Kathryn get over a deep depression, the inadvertent exposure to possible futures which had devastated Seven emotionally, the captain's nanoprobes which had almost ended up killing her while Seven desperately searched for a cure. Janeway realized suddenly how very fragile her partner must be feeling in the aftermath of all that, and she decided that she needed to do something about that. Marriage did not mean that the romance ended ... or at least it shouldn't.

Perhaps her greatest concern should not be how Chakotay could 'woo' B'Elanna. Maybe she should focus her attentions on how she could assure Seven that she was absolutely still the most important person in the universe to her.

1000 Hours

Jake trotted down the corridor, nose to the deck, following a particularly intriguing scent. It was animalistic, but odd, completely unlike anything he or his instincts had ever experienced before. He was brought up short by a door and he sat down, eyeing it closely. He was not supposed to go into places like this without a Human at the end of his leash, but that scent ... that maddening, inviting, totally alluring scent ... drew him on, demanding that he discover the source of it.

It was too much too resist and he rose up, breaking the beam which keyed the door. He walked in, aware the scent was much stronger here, and knew he was entering the territory of the other animal. His ears up, his eyes keenly alert, he raised his head, sniffing avidly.

There on the table, regarding him with big dark eyes with fur the color of sky and water, tufts on the oversized ears the color of his Seven's hair, the creature waited. Jake whined slightly, moving closer, practically wiggling with anticipation and interest. Would this be another friend, something that would play with him? A being like he who was adored by the clumsy people who staggered about on two legs instead of on four like sensible creatures?

He yelped as a tiny clawed paw batted his snout, startling him more than hurting him. He bounded sideways into a table, toppling it over with a crash. Startled once more, he barked which caused the strange creature to hiss and snarl, the fur standing straight out as if electrified. That scared him even more, and he started looking anxiously for a way out.

The creature apparently decided that despite the distinct size difference, it was very clear who had the upper paw here and it flowed off the table, down the leg in a serpentine motion and stalked across the floor on stiff legs toward the now thoroughly frightened pup. Jake kept backing up, trying to avoid the tiny little terror, knocking over more furniture as a variety of Harry Kim's belongings ... Jake had recognized the young lieutenant's scent as belonging to this lair ... crashed to the floor.

When Jake was finally backed into the corner, he had no choice. He may not be the most graceful of pups, but he was not a complete coward and with a bark that was a bit frantic, he leaped forward. This changed things considerably. The creature let out a funny, high pitched squeak, leaped straight up in the air, and whirled, skittering quickly away on its little legs.

This was more like it and with another bark, an ecstatic one this time, Jake bounded enthusiastically after it. Apparently he had misunderstood. It wanted to play, after all. For the next few minutes, Jake chased the little creature around and around the quarters, causing a great deal of mass destruction that really did not particularly concern the pup. Indeed, he thought the noise and chaos created a fine atmosphere in which to play, as various things fell and were shattered, their contents scattering far and wide which Jake and the little creature immediately tracked through and carried onto the as yet untouched parts of the room.

Finally, he treed the creature on top of a book case, and when it became clear it wasn't going to come down anytime soon, he gave a final bark of gratitude for what had been a remarkably entertaining time and left, having found the door in his mad scramble about the room.

Cheekily, he trotted down the corridor, head held high, leaving the creature to take credit for his redecorating as he sought out a new adventure. He decided that the next time, he would try to entice the creature out into the larger part of the ship where they would have far more room to play. It was the least he could do for his new friend for providing such an excellent game of chase.

1100 Hours

"Spanner."

Seven held out her hand expectantly, and was promptly handed the requested tool by B'Elanna who did not pause in her story. When the chief engineer had contacted Seven and asked if she would help reconfigure one of the gel pack conduits, the Borg had deemed it a perfect opportunity to carry out her promise to Tom Paris. However, once they had begun work in the Jeffries tube, the young woman discovered it was considerably more difficult than she had anticipated. It was extremely hard for her to work it into the conversation 'subtly'.

Seven of Nine had never been particularly good at being 'subtle'. The few times she had managed it, she was never sure how, and suspected that those occasions had been purely accidental. She was much better at just flat out asking what she wanted to know. The trouble was, she suspected that would be inappropriate in this situation. She really didn't want to upset B'Elanna, especially in such close quarters where the Borg's greater size and speed would not be the advantage it normally was.

It was impossible to run in a Jeffries tube.

"So then, she leaned over and showed me her cleavage," the Klingon finished up triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"

"That she should have knelt instead of bending over?" Seven offered.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "No, damn it, Seven," she said in exasperation. "It means that she might be interested in me ... romantically, I mean."

Seven looked at her, frowning. "Isn't Jennifer Delaney the woman Tom Paris copulated with?" she asked.

"Well, I slept with him, too," B'Elanna said. "I don't hold it against her."

"But you were very angry at her," Seven noted with confusion.

"No, I was ticked off at Tom," B'Elanna explained. "For not granting me the required honor of waiting the proper time before being with someone else. It was disrespectful and since he knows Klingon tradition, it meant he was cheating on me, just as if he had known I was alive."

"Ah," Seven said. She resumed her work on the conduit. "I am not sure Ensign Delaney would find you attractive," she said, realizing it was a mistake almost as soon as it left her mouth, and wished she could take it back even as B'Elanna seemed to bristle with indignation.

"What does that mean?" the Klingon said. "I'm good looking." An anxious expression came over her face. "Don't you think I'm attractive, Seven?"

This was definitely not a place Seven wanted to go.

"You are ... aesthetically pleasing," she admitted weakly.

B'Elanna stared at her. "Well, thanks for nothing, buddy," she said, a hurt tone in her voice.

Seven was actually glad to leave it at that, though she was sorry that B'Elanna seemed piqued by her words. She was certainly not going to volunteer that 'aesthetically pleasing' was the first compliment she had ever given Kathryn regarding the captain's physical appearance, or that on at least one occasion, she had decided that B'Elanna was attractive enough to actually think about kissing her ... or at least, kissing a certain part of her body.

"In any event," Seven continued, making her voice very even. "Ensign Delaney has never indicated any interest in female companionship."

"Well, then I'd be her first," B'Elanna said cheerfully, obviously forgetting her stung feelings for the moment.

Seven shot her a look. "Is that important?" she asked.

"It can be an extra ... incentive," B'Elanna admitted. She eyed Seven covertly. "I'll bet Janeway really likes the fact she was your 'first'."

The Borg blinked as she absorbed this. "I do not believe we have discussed it," Seven said, filing it away to bring up with her partner sometime in the future. She shifted position to keep the blood flowing into her legs which were tucked up under her and attacked another part of the repair. "Are you in love with Jennifer Delaney?"

"I don't even know her," B'Elanna said. "But she is good looking." The Klingon leaned back against the curved wall of the tube and stared thoughtfully into space. "Wouldn't it frost Paris's ass to know I'd had her too?"

Seven looked over, raising an eyebrow with interest. "Is it important how Lt. Paris feels about you?" she asked, leaping on it eagerly.

B'Elanna looked uncomfortable. "Of course not," she blustered. "I'm way over him."

Seven observed her closely. She wondered if this was a case of 'protesting too much' as Kathryn was apt to note on occasion. Such a strong response to a question could sometimes indicate the person actually felt the reverse of what they were expressing. She wished she had more experience with it so that she could judge accurately.

"I see," she said slowly. She took a breath and steeled herself. "Perhaps he is not 'over' you," she suggested delicately.

B'Elanna shot a sharp look at her. "What are you talking about?" she asked with an odd tone in her voice.

Seven searched desperately for something to say. "I merely wish to take all factors into consideration," she tried finally. "Is it possible that Paris still has strong feelings for you?"

B'Elanna waved it off. "Naw," she said dismissively. "He's moved on. So have I."

"Hypothetically," Seven continued stubbornly. "Would you be adverse to his retaining his feelings for you?"

B'Elanna stared at her. "Seven, do you know something I don't know?" she asked.

That was harder to respond to. Seven would not lie, not if she could help it. She would misdirect and refuse to answer at the request of her partner regarding their relationship, or things which involved the security of the ship, but she found it very difficult to flat out lie.

"Perhaps I am aware that Mr. Paris continues to care very deeply for you," Seven admitted. "Would that be something you would ... welcome?"

B'Elanna was silent for a few moments, a dark expression on her face. "He cheated on me, Seven," she said finally, in an icy voice. "That is as loathsome as you get, remember?"

"I understand," Seven said, remembering their previous discussions regarding Paris's perceived infidelity. It had colored her perception of the thing known as 'cheating' considerably. "Nonetheless, he did believe you were ... dead. Sometimes it is necessary to continue on after one's mate has died. It does not mean that they love you any less." She paused, thinking about it and all the discoveries she had made about life and death recently. "Sometimes it is a way to show that love does not die with the person ... that it can continue on to be shared by another," she added uncertainly, as new concepts filtered through her mind.

B'Elanna snorted. "There's no way Tom was in love with Jennifer Delaney," she said acidly. "He just wanted a little 'physical comforting'."

"Is that so wrong?" Seven asked with honest curiosity. "Physical contact makes me feel better when I am sad."

"This wasn't a hug, Seven," B'Elanna pointed out tartly.

"Ah," Seven said. She took a slow breath and looked her friend full in the face. "We all make mistakes, B'Elanna," she said seriously. "I have hurt Kathryn often, unintentionally, just as she has hurt me. Yet, we forgive each other because we know we love each other. After all, being without each other is a far worse fate than the empty satisfaction of 'winning' an argument or being 'right' can adequately counter."

B'Elanna shook her head. "I don't believe you ever hurt the captain all that much," she said.

"B'Elanna," Seven said bleakly. "I assimilated Kathryn. I almost killed her."

"You weren't responsible for that," Torres said, reaching out to put her hand comfortingly on the Borg's shoulder. "You didn't mean to hurt her."

Seven regarded her steadily. "Neither did Lt. Paris intend to hurt you," she said.

Caught, B'Elanna stared at her, then anger appeared in her eyes. "Seven, I don't want to talk about this," she said flatly. She looked at the conduit then back at the Borg, frowning mightily. "I think you can probably finish this yourself. I need to get back to engineering."

"I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Seven said with concern.

"You didn't," B'Elanna said shortly  ... Seven recognizing that as a blatant untruth ... and crawled away, disappearing around the corner of the conduit.

The Borg listened to the Klingon activate the hatch to the corridor below and with a sigh, she heard it seal itself as Torres dropped through it, leaving Seven all alone in the Jeffries tube.

"That did not go well," she noted out loud to herself, hearing her voice echo tinnily in the cramped quarters.

Promising herself that next time, she'd try to stay out of other people's romantic situations.

1200 Hours

"B'Elanna," Janeway greeted.

Her chief engineer looked up and the captain was startled by the stormy cast to the dark eyes, not necessarily a good thing to see when dealing with a Klingon.

"Captain," she responded, a bit sullenly. She eyed the basket Janeway was carrying narrowly and motioned with her head over her shoulder. "Seven's still in Jeffries tube three," she added.

"Is something wrong?" Janeway asked cautiously.

"Captain, I would appreciate if you and your wife would stay out of my personal life," B'Elanna burst out.

Janeway blinked. Obviously this was not the time to find out what B'Elanna looked for when being 'wooed'.

"Lieutenant?" the captain said, lowering the temperature of her voice a touch, just to remind the Klingon who she was speaking to. She did not want a repeat of the previous incidents when B'Elanna's friendship with Seven made the engineer think she could get away with inappropriate behavior toward the captain.

"I'm sorry, Captain," B'Elanna said, flustered. "Seven and I were just ... well, some things just shouldn't be discussed on duty."

Janeway resisted the urge to laugh in the young woman's face, since B'Elanna and Seven's discussions on Seven's love life were legendary on the ship. Now, however, it sounded like it was B'Elanna's love life, rather than the Borg and the captain's, which Seven was intent on dissecting. Janeway wondered if Chakotay had gotten to her partner as well. That would make things ... complicated. Seven lacked the captain's subtlety.

"I totally agree, lieutenant, and if you'd care to give the specifics, I will be glad to speak to Seven about it," Janeway told the Klingon in her most reasonable tone.

B'Elanna glared at her. "Never mind," she said in a low tone. "It's nothing."

"Very well," Janeway said in a way that indicated she was agreeable about letting it go ... for now. She looked up at the hatch that B'Elanna had just dropped through. "So Seven is still working?"

"Yes," B'Elanna responded. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get to engineering."

Janeway looked after the engineer's retreating figure with a speculative expression, then her eyes narrowed and she headed for the ladder leading to the access hatch. She didn't know what her partner had been up to, and it certainly sounded interesting, but it was not anything she was going to pursue at the moment. Right now, there were other pursuits she was far more interested in sharing with her spouse.

With difficulty, she hefted the heavy basket as she awkwardly climbed the steps, precariously gripping the rungs with one hand at any given time. Not for the first time, she was aware at how weak her illness had left her. Before, she'd have tucked the basket under her arm and scaled the ladder without a pause. She glanced around to make sure she was alone in the auxiliary corridor, then used her nose to activate the touch pad, opening the hatch.

"Seven," she called. "Help me with this."

She heard the shuffling of her partner as she crawled through the tube to the hatch and then the basket was being lifted out of the captain's hand. She looked up to see the narrow face of Seven peering down at her with confusion.

"Captain?"

"Just Kathryn at the moment," Janeway corrected with a grin as she ascended through the opening into the Jeffries tube. "It's 1215 hours so I thought we'd have lunch."

"Indeed," Seven noted, quirking an eyebrow. She looked at Janeway, then at the basket as they crawled back to where Seven had been working. "Is this a ... picnic?"

"Unless you're not hungry," Janeway said as she sat down cross legged on the decking. Her heart caught at the obvious delight which filled Seven's pale blue eyes then, making them almost glow, and Janeway was very pleased that she had thought of this. Clearly it had been long enough since their last picnic that Seven considered this a special occasion indeed.

"I am very hungry," Seven said, her voice warm and happy.

Janeway smiled and pulled a checkered blanket from the basket, spreading it over the grill which made up the Jeffries tube floor. Then she began to unpack the lunch from the basket as Seven helped.

"Why are we having a picnic?" the Borg asked curiously as she pried the lid off the container of sandwiches.

"Because it's been a while," Janeway admitted. "Also, I had a conversation this morning that reminded me that just because you and I are married doesn't mean I should stop 'wooing' you altogether."

"Wooing?" Seven echoed, looking at her oddly, and Janeway realized she had never really identified what she had been doing when she had been trying to win Seven back after the captain had lost her memories. "What does that mean?"

"It's a term used to describe when I use gestures to indicate how much I enjoy being with you," Janeway explained in a gentler tone. "When I try to show you how very much I love you."

Seven blushed faintly, her fair skin glowing pink. "I like being with you, Kathryn," she said softly. "I never forget how much you love me. However, I am very appreciative for this."

Janeway leaned over and kissed her sweetly. "You mean the world to me, my darling," she murmured. "I also want to apologize again for this morning. Maybe I really have been taking all you do for me for granted, particularly how you maintain our quarters. You've made that a home for us,  rather than just the place where we cohabitat, and I want you to know how much that means to me, as well as to thank you for it. I realize it's been a hard few months since our honeymoon, what with pirates and spatial anomalies and my ... illness. Perhaps we just need to take some time to enjoy ourselves for a little while."

"That would be ... very acceptable," Seven said. Her eyes were such a bright blue that Janeway wondered if there was a name for that shade. It was sky and water and sunshine itself, and Janeway felt her heart fill as the Borg looked eagerly at the spread the captain was laying out before her. "Are we having croissants?"

"Not today," Janeway told her, smiling at her partner's enthusiasm. "Today, we're going to have an old fashioned North American picnic, just as I had when I was a child. There's potato salad, sandwiches ... both tuna fish on white and ham and cheese on whole wheat ... pickles, and a pitcher of lemonade. Along with some pudding for desert."

Seven wiggled almost like Jake did when he was especially pleased, and Janeway's smile widened, wondering if the Borg had acquired the mannerism from the dog or vice versa. The Borg accepted the paper plate Janeway handed her, looking at what it contained inquisitively, her head tilted slightly.

"I do not believe I have ever tried any of these foods," Seven noted.

"You know, I don't believe you have," Janeway said, thinking about it. "I hope you enjoy them."

"I am sure that I will," Seven said. She used the fork to scoop up a bite of the potato salad, tasting it gingerly. It was one of the very few things Janeway could replicate which approximated her mother's recipe, and one which had not been given to Seven ... perhaps because Gretchen had not anticipated that one could have picnics in space. Janeway could tell just from the expression which spread over the narrow features that the Borg enjoyed the combination of flavors tremendously.

She made a mental note to herself never to allow Seven to play poker with anyone.

The Borg waited until Janeway had finally taken a bite from her sandwich, and it came to the captain suddenly that Seven did not know how they were meant to be eaten. She watched with gentle amusement as Seven carefully mimicked her partner, taking the sandwich in her hand and biting exactly in the middle of one edge, just as Janeway did. The captain felt a wave of tenderness flow through her at Seven's childlike innocence which occurred at such unexpected times, and she moved closer to her partner, pouring her a glass full of lemonade from the chilled thermos.

"Try this," she invited, passing it to her. "It may not be as sweet as you would like."

Despite the warning, she saw that Seven was unprepared for the tartness of it, and she screwed up her face in such a way that Janeway was very hard pressed not to laugh out loud.

"It is ... different," Seven said, after swallowing.

"You get used to it," Janeway said, patting her on the shoulder. "I'll program it a bit sweeter next time. It's basically just lemon juice, sugar and water. I guess it needs more sugar."

"Possibly," Seven allowed. She studied her sandwich. "Are the green things celery?" she asked.

Janeway looked. "I think so," she said. "The white stuff is mayonnaise. The brown bits are the tuna fish."

"Ah," Seven asked, as always, intently curious about how the food was created. "You mix all these things together and spread it on the bread?"

Janeway, who had replicated the sandwiches fully intact, blinked. "I guess," she said, not really knowing at all.

Seven nodded. "I can make these," she said with satisfaction.

Janeway knew what Seven really meant was that she could make them better, though the Borg hadn't added that part and the captain was forced to stifle her smile by taking another bite of potato salad. She raised an eyebrow as she saw Seven take apart the other sandwich to see how it was constructed, examining the contents ... the yellow paste of mustard, the thin layer of orange cheddar cheese, the pinkish brown of the ham, the green of the lettuce, and the white mayonnaise ... with a keen scientific appraisal.

"This would be interesting with mozzarella," Seven noted finally. "Perhaps a different type of mustard." When she turned her attention on the potato salad, Janeway gave up, falling onto her side and snorting laughter until she was weak.

Seven ignored her, fully aware that she was the cause of her partner's mirth, but not understanding why as she intently examined the salad. She was not upset by it however, since she knew Janeway's sense of humor was never malicious, merely quirky at times, and Seven always kept in mind that it was only with her that the captain was comfortable enough to laugh and enjoy herself so freely.

"So how's the potato salad made?" Janeway asked with a wide grin after she had finally laughed herself out, sitting up to brush the dust off her uniform.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "With potato, of course," she said, as if it should be obvious to the captain. "However, it seems somewhat of a misnomer. There are also eggs, mayonnaise, tomatoes, lettuce, peas, and mushrooms. Why would its designation be derived from only one ingredient?"

"Maybe because potato is the main ingredient?" Janeway suggested brightly.

Seven nodded slowly. "That is possible," she allowed. "Yet, there seems to be as much egg and lettuce present in the mixture as potato."

"We can name it whatever you want, darling," Janeway told her indulgently. She reached over, and carefully wiped away a smear of mayo from the corner of the Borg's mouth. Then she drew the blonde head to her with fingertips beneath the narrow chin, kissing her with loving gentleness. "You're my heart, Annika," she murmured against her lips. "I just want to make your life as wonderful as possible."

"You do," Seven assured her. "Every moment."

They beamed at each other for a few seconds, then resumed their meal. Seven, now that she was not determining how everything was created, finished her sandwiches and salad quickly, and looked on with interest as Janeway drew out the containers of mixed swirled chocolate and caramel pudding, handing her spouse one.

"And before you ask," Janeway told her. "No, I don't know how these are made."

"I will research it," Seven said unperturbed, her eyes lighting up as she took a small bite, then another, much larger one. "This tastes very good."

She finished it quickly as Janeway watched, smiling gently.

After packing up the now emptied containers into the basket, Seven leaned against the curved wall of the Jeffries tube while Janeway positioned herself between the Borg's knees, snuggling against the young woman's front as the strong, slender arms wrapped around her. Occasionally, Seven would lean forward and brush her lips over the captain's temple or neck, or nuzzle gently along her cheek, and Janeway would shiver from the sheer sensation of the love she felt surrounding her.

"Thank you for this," Seven said softly. "I know it is hard for you to get away from the bridge, especially in the middle of the alpha shift rotation. It means a lot that you would do this for me."

Janeway looked up into the beloved blond features and smiled briefly. "I should be doing it more often, darling," she said. "Not just for you, but for me, as well. It makes everything in my life go a little smoother when I can take a few moments to see your beautiful face."

Seven pulled her closer in response and Janeway rested her head on her partner's shoulder, wishing they had more time before they had to return to duty. She supposed she should ask Seven what was going on with B'Elanna, but decided it could wait until later. For now, she was content to spend these few precious moments in her lover's arms, listening to the beating of her heart and loving her with everything she was.

Knowing only that the day which had started in such so utter aggravation had suddenly taken on a soft glow of joy and pleasure.

1300 Hours

Jake loped across the deck of cargo bay two, pleased to have found this area of the ship which seemed the perfect spot to stretch his legs. His mistresses and others occasionally took him into the holodeck to run, but he was always aware that it was an illusion, and the confusion caused by his eyes telling him one thing while his nose told him another, made him very uncomfortable. This was much better, a single cavernous room full of interesting nooks created by equipment and stacks of containers, yet with enough clear space for him to run as fast as he could without being overly constrained by walls. Best of all, one area of it smelled strongly of Seven, almost as if she had spent a lot of time here, and it made it feel like home. Because the bay was not cleaned or polished as much as the other parts of the ship, it was far more fascinating to explore, as well. Scents and textures lingered long after they had disappeared from other areas, and he enjoyed experiencing them.

A glow in one dark, dank corner of the room caught his attention, and he eyed it with interest, though he approached with caution, remembering how he had gotten a tiny paw full of claws across the snout for his troubles the last time he examined something different.  Still, that had turned out so wonderful in the end, that he was anxious for another adventure.

He sniffed gingerly and wrinkled his nose, backing away a little. This was an unpleasant scent, arid, almost acidic in its odor, and the glow shaded into a spectrum which Humans could not see, making it uncomfortable for his eyes to look at it for very long. He could sense motion in the flickering illumination however and his head tilted to the left. He barked once, just to see what would happen, and all motion abruptly stopped.

He barked again and abruptly a tentacle shot out, wrapping around his foreleg. Jake yelped and struggled backward, the line of transparent goo stretching into a thin band. It began to burn where it touched his leg, and furiously, the pup snapped at it, severing the band with his teeth. It tasted horrible, and he kept sneezing and panting as he limped away, frightened and disturbed at such an odd thing. Obviously it was a predator of some sort and he had entered its territory.

He barked loudly at a safer distance, dodging as yet another tentacle shot out, barely missing him. In his doggy brain, he understood dimly that this was a threat to himself, and worse, to his home and people. He whined, looking around anxiously, wanting to see his people suddenly, believing absolutely that they would know how to deal with it.

His barks grew more frantic as from the shadows, the rest of the creature emerged, a bulky blob of gelatinous tissue, two optical orbs perched on twin antennae, centering on the dog. Jake became aware suddenly that he was in grave danger, and every instinct told him he was being hunted.

Panic stricken, he skittered away, frantically searching for the way out, but unfortunately the creature had positioned itself between him and the door. Jake was trapped and more tentacles began to shoot out at him. He howled and leaped sideways into a group of barrel like containers, knocking several of them over. One, a little weaker than the rest, cracked its seal, and the contents spilled out over the deck.

It was the carbonated solution that Neelix used for soaking his leola roots, and when the rush of fluid reached the creature, it began to smoke, issuing the most horrible screams the pup had ever experienced. Jake cowered on the dais near Seven's Borg alcove, pressed up against the deactivated equipment, trying to find comfort from her faint scent which lingered on the tubing.

Finally, the hertamera, the dreaded flesh eater from Corvus III which had been brought aboard unknowingly in a group of supplies picked up in a system light years back, expired in a most horrible and painful way. With one decisive move, Jake, the Irish Setter, had saved Voyager's crew from a fate worse than death, preventing the creature from growing large enough to kill a full grown human with just a touch of its stinging tentacles, preventing it from spawning the eggs in the sack on its back in the water reclamation chamber where they would have hatched into hundreds of creatures just like it, and finally, preventing all the horrific little organisms from overwhelming the ship within hours despite the crew's best effort to prevent the onslaught.

When the last remains of the creature finally shriveled and disappeared into the milky fluid growing sour in the middle of the deck, Jake tentatively crept closer. Then, with a final sniff that made him sneeze once more, he slunk away from the cargo bay, knowing he would probably be in trouble as a result of this mess. He had been trained to recognize that those type of containers were not to be touched, and breaking one was sure to result in a scolding of considerable proportions.

Suddenly, this day wasn't going as well as he had originally anticipated.

1400 Hours

Seven of Nine finished her final bit of repair work and gathered up her tools, still basking in the pleasant haze of the surprise her spouse had sprung on her. Her generous lips persisted on curling upward at each corner, and she tried unsuccessfully to compose herself, thinking that it was probably not appropriate to spend the rest of her duty shift boasting a silly grin. She did know she was extremely glad she had found Kathryn ... she could only imagine how empty her life would have been otherwise. Seven was especially pleased that instead of becoming more complacent in her love, Kathryn seemed to work even harder to nurture it, coming up with such charming ways to show how she felt. It gave the Borg a warm feeling inside, a sweet sensation of contentment and joy.

For a moment, her mind drifted to thoughts of people who were not so fortunate in love, and she sobered as she remembered how upset B'Elanna Torres had been when she disappeared earlier. Seven had not meant to antagonize her friend, though she was certainly glad the Klingon had decided to leave rather than show her dismay in other ways, such as a physical confrontation.

She also realized that she hadn't discussed her current problem with Kathryn, but it had been so nice to be with the captain, and forget the outside universe for awhile, that it had slipped her mind. The warm feeling of love wrapped itself around her again, and the smile returned as she crawled out of the Jeffries tube, descending the ladder. She carried her tool kit back to engineering, glancing around in the hopes of seeing her friend, but apparently Lt. Torres was occupied elsewhere, and Seven decided she would have to find her later to try to heal the breach she had caused.

There was a small chirp and Seven blinked. "Sickbay to Seven," the Doctor's ponderous tones issued from the small communicator attached to her left breast.

"Seven here," she said crisply.

"Just a reminder about your maintenance this afternoon," he said.

"Thank you, Doctor," she responded. She did not require reminders, but it was no good to tell him that. Because Janeway was notorious for forgetting her appointments, he apparently thought Seven was as well, despite the fact she had never missed one in the entire time she had been on Voyager. She wondered at the way people now seemed to think how Janeway was about things was also how she would be ... and vice versa. Was it a perception based on the fact they were married? "I shall be there at 1520 hours, as expected."

She headed for astrometrics, hoping to have some of the new charts at least started before the end of her duty shift and her appointment in sickbay. Her comm badge chirped again, this time with the warm, rich tones of her partner's voice.

"Seven of Nine to the bridge."

"On my way," she responded and altered her course abruptly, returning to the turbolift she had just stepped off of. The lift accelerated smoothly upward and she stepped onto the bridge, moving quickly to the tactical station aft of the command chairs. On the fore viewscreen, she could see what looked like a debris field, and she ran a scan, bringing herself up to speed on what Voyager had already discovered. She noted that with Tom Paris spending a day off, the helm was now being manned by Lt. Nicoletti while, on the port side of the bridge, Harry Kim keyed commands into his ops station.

"No life forms registering, Captain," Lt. Kim reported in a grim tone. "No survivors at all."

To Seven's right, Tuvok raised his head from where he had been intently studying his console. "Weapons signature is consistent with those we have encountered before from the nomads. However, they are hours old. Warp signatures have been masked, and it will be difficult to follow them."

The captain shook her head. "Resume course for the Alpha Quadrant," she ordered.

Her voice was quiet, deceptively mild, and Seven's eyes darted to where Janeway was standing on the lower level of the bridge, her arms crossed over her chest. When the captain turned to look back at Chakotay, Seven could see the sorrow for the unknown lives which had been lost and the determined resolve to do something ... anything about it.

"I want all senior staff in the conference room now," the captain told her first officer. "It's time we take a good, hard look at this."

Seven resisted the urge to sigh, and followed the rest of the senior bridge crew into the next room which contained a large table. At one end, in the 'head' chair beneath the large windows, Janeway took a seat, while Chakotay sat down at the captain's right hand, and Tuvok sat to her left. Seven took her seat on the other end of the table opposite the captain, though originally, a chair had not been placed in that area. It was only after the Borg had returned after being transported to the Alpha Quadrant, that she had began sitting where she could always see Kathryn clearly during meetings, and the captain could, in turn, see her. It had never been commented on .... at least, not in the Borg's hearing .... so she continued to maintain the position. She did realize, however, that it indicated a level of power accorded her in some way. Just how was too subtle for her to determine exactly.

They waited for the rest of the senior staff to arrive, the Doctor from sickbay, Lt. Torres from engineering, and Lt. Paris who arrived still wearing his Captain Proton uniform, obviously having been indulging in his favorite holoprogram during his free time. He offered Seven a inquiring glance, but the Borg did not respond ... mostly because she didn't have anything to respond with. She noticed that rather than sit next to B'Elanna, he took a seat opposite the Klingon.

Janeway raised her eyebrow, and once everyone had settled, began the meeting.

"These pirates are becoming a very real threat and a constant danger," she stated firmly. "They seem to be growing in strength and are becoming less discriminating about their targets, even in the short time we've been in this sector."

"All the local civilizations have histories of pirates operating in this area," Tuvok noted calmly. "It is a problem they have lived with for centuries, and seem quite content to continue with it. Is it our place to police this area of space?"

"That ship was a refugee vessel," Chakotay noted with a touch of anger. "Out of Vargas VI, probably on their way to a better life. These bastards just ransacked it and killed everyone."

"Nonetheless," Tuvok replied evenly. "It is a way of life for these nomads to raid individual ships. I'm sure those refugees realized the risk when they started out on their journey, and determined it was a reasonable danger. In any event, the Prime Directive prohibits us from interfering."

"Aren't we interfering just by being here?" Paris noted, spreading his hands. "I mean, how many times have we been attacked, and how many pirate ships have we been forced to destroy, in order to escape their attempts to raid Voyager? If we can do something, maybe we should, and besides, doesn't the prime directive only apply to pre-warp civilizations? Since there is no central governing body, this space is lawless. If we decide to do something about cleaning it up for our own protection, I can't see Starfleet objecting."

Seven sat alertly in her seat, hands folded neatly on the table before her, intently listening to all these comments. The captain, in contrast, seemed totally relaxed, lounging in her chair with slightly lidded eyes, her chin resting on her thumb as her forefinger framed her left cheek. Seven knew however, that her spouse was listening just as keenly as the Borg was, absorbing all the various opinions of her people before making her own decision based partially on what she had heard but mostly on what was in her heart ... which sometimes was not always in accordance to what her crew thought. However, that was why she was captain. Janeway was willing to accept responsibility for such monumental decisions.

"I say we have enough problems without taking on more," B'Elanna spoke up forcefully. "I mean, I'm sorry about those refugees, but the fact is, Voyager has taken quite a few hits the past little while, and we have more than enough to worry about with just making sure we get through this sector intact. We're currently not in the best shape to be trying to protect others."

"We're strong enough to survive the attacks," the Doctor said firmly. "A great many people aren't. Do we just stand by and let them be destroyed?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "I'm not saying we should close our eyes and pass by if we happen upon a fight," she countered. "But we're also not in a position where we can deliberately go looking for trouble either."

"Even if we were," Harry agreed, supporting the Klingon. "What would we do if we found a group of nomads? Kill them all?"

"Perhaps we could offer to negotiate somehow," Neelix proposed. "Why are these beings pirates? Probably it's because they have no home of their own. They are dissidents or refugees driven from their home worlds, and forced to scrape a living from wherever they can. If we could unify the worlds in this sector somehow, perhaps we could then negotiate to find the nomads a place of their own."

Seven saw this interested her partner greatly, and she forced herself not to protest too quickly.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "You are suggesting that we reconstruct the political and social fabric of this entire sector," he noted in a slightly condescending tone. "Even if we were willing to set aside the years, if not decades, such a thing would require, there is still the Prime Directive to consider."

Seven was very glad he had said that. That glint in her partner's eyes had made her very nervous. She had no doubt Janeway could accomplish reorganizing an entire sector given enough time, but it was also possible that Kathryn was capable of biting off more than even she could chew.

"Seven?" Janeway said, her voice quiet.

Seven realized she had been drifting and refocused immediately. It surprised her that Janeway would ask, knowing that they could have spoken about it later. In the beginning of their relationship, Janeway had assumed that Seven would just automatically support her in whatever she presented, and had been both hurt and profoundly shocked when Seven continued to present her brutally honest opinion, regardless of what the captain had said. Still, Seven did not like contradicting her partner in public so she had eventually learned to keep her own counsel in staff meetings. If Kathryn was asking now, it was because she had no real opinion on it herself; she was just feeling frustrated and angry about seeing that debris field.

Seven took a breath. "Attempting to seek out and engage these nomads, or attempting to protect others from them, are tactically unsound positions," she said. "We lack the capability to 'patrol' this area of space, nor are we the legal authorities who have the right to do so."

"What if we can find an opportunity for dialogue with them," the Doctor insisted.

"Opportunities should always be exploited," Seven responded. "However, we also have our primary mission. What would Starfleet expect of us if this was the Alpha Quadrant?"

That was keenly felt by the captain, Seven realized, and she saw Janeway flinch, though it was so slight as to be practically undetected by any one who did not know every millimeter of that face intimately.

"Unless the local population of worlds unite, and request our assistance in dealing with the pirates," the captain noted slowly. "We can do no more than protect ourselves." Her eyes met Seven's squarely. "Thank you for reminding me of our duty while here in the Delta Quadrant."

Seven wasn't sure exactly how she meant that comment, but since Janeway's eyes were soft yet regretful, she understood that the captain was not angered with Seven for stating the obvious. Janeway sat up and looked at the rest somberly.

"However, protecting ourselves is becoming a progressively difficult task," she continued, frowning intently. "The nomads are increasing in their attacks, and it appears as if they're becoming better prepared, both offensively and defensively, almost as if they're being organized in some manner."

"Maybe they are," Lt. Kim said. "We just need more information."

Paris nodded. "Harry's right," he agreed. "Maybe we should ... I don't know, infiltrate them or something."

The Doctor regarded the helmsman sardonically. "What, mock up the Delta Flyer as a pirate ship, dress up in eye patches and pretend to be pirates?" he said in a voice heavy with irony.

"That might work," Chakotay said, unexpectantly supporting Voyager's helmsman. "Would there be a way for some of us to do just that? Pretend to be nomads and find out if there is something larger behind this?"

Seven saw the captain eye him speculatively, and she felt her heart twinge. She certainly hoped Janeway was not anticipating being one of those who was going to participate in such an exercise, though she could tell the captain was already picturing herself in such a role. She frowned at her partner, and some of her antipathy to the idea must have translated in her gaze because Janeway glanced at her, looked briefly startled, then grinned somewhat sheepishly.

"It is something to consider," the captain allowed. She looked at her first officer. "Come up with some possible scenarios. Have Tom help you, this seems right up his alley. In the meantime, lets all of us stay alert. We have no idea where the pirates will strike next."

She favored them all with a parting glance, then nodded stiffly.

"Dismissed."

Seven wanted to linger and speak with Janeway, but the Doctor claimed her by offering to escort her to sickbay. She decided that she would just have to discuss it with Kathryn later.

She had to make sure that the other woman had no intention of 'playing pirate'.

1500 Hours

Janeway sat quietly in the conference room after the staff meeting had ended, going over the ideas which had been tossed out. She was intrigued by the concept of infiltrating the nomads, and wondered how she would look in an eye patch. Of course, she recognized immediately that Seven would object strongly at her doing anything so rash, or at the very least, would insist on going along to watch out for her. Janeway did not think Seven would make a particularly convincing pirate. Or worse, she might make such an efficient one, they'd never interest her in acting merely like a Starfleet officer again.

She sighed ruefully and leaned back in the chair, her mind wandering to her partner and how much she adored her. When her memories had returned with her recent illness, she had originally been afraid that it was a temporary thing, a cure which would disappear when she regained her full health, but that had not happened. She still had all her memories in full, still remembered everything that had happened over the past three years. Yet, she remained uneasy, hesitant about sharing the news with Seven. She wasn't sure why exactly, but knew she eventually had to, for no other reason than her partner deserved her total honesty about the things that affected her, and by extension, Seven herself.

She raised her head. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she requested.

"Seven of Nine is in sickbay," the computer replied.

Janeway frowned, wondering what the young woman was doing there. Aware that it was probably nothing major, she still decided to make a pass by on her way home, now that the alpha shift had finished and beta shift had come on.

She picked up her padd and strode out into the bridge, nodding at Tuvok who was supervising the new rotation as she made her way to the turbolift. There, she requested the deck containing sickbay, and wondered if Seven would be interested in trying something a little different for their regularly scheduled workout. It had been something she had been considering for a while, and she decided as she entered the medical center that today was as good a time as any to try it. She raised her eyebrow as she saw that Seven was standing by a console, the Doctor running a medical scanner over her.

The young woman's pale eyes lightened even more as she saw her partner, and Janeway smiled warmly at her. However, because they were in a public area of the ship, the Borg's greeting was formal. "Captain."

"Seven," Janeway replied, returning the formality though their duty shifts were complete. It occured to her, that she and Seven were only now figuring out the proper dynamics of their relationship on a professional level since their recent marriage. She quirked an eyebrow at the Doctor. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, studying the screen. "Just routine implant maintenance, Captain," he said. He flicked off his scanner and looked up at them. "Everything's fine, Seven," he added. "But if you and the captain have a moment, I'd like to speak to you both about the genetic material you have 'on ice'. I've come up with an idea you might want to consider. Is now convenient for you both?"

Janeway and Seven exchanged a baffled glance, then the Borg looked at the hologram. "I am no longer on duty," she revealed. "Once the appointment ended, I am considered logged off."

Janeway nodded. "I'm free, as well" she agreed. "Shall we use your office?"

The Doctor led the way into the room where the CMO's desk and personal work station was kept. As they entered, Sek, the medical assistant who was working there, shared a glance with him, murmured greetings to the other women, then headed for the bio-lab. Obviously, she knew what this was about, and it had to be something important enough that the other hologram should not be privy to the discussion.  Janeway watched her go with a speculative expression as she and Seven sat down in the low backed chairs facing the desk where the Doctor made himself comfortable.

"What's this about?" Janeway asked.

He folded his hands on the desk and regarded Seven keenly. "I've been studying the records of some of the greatest reproductive specialists in Earth history, and I believe I've come up with a way to restore your missing organs, utilizing the material Annika Hansen left during her recent visit," he said.

That hit the captain like a bomb, and she felt her breath catch. It also seemed to floor the young woman beside her and Janeway glanced at her, seeing the way Seven's face paled perceptively.

"Indeed," Seven managed finally.

"It is an option," he said, smiling with satisfaction, as well he should. He knew how much Seven wanted children, and the Collective's removal of her reproductive organs had meant the young woman would never realize the dream of bearing them. Recently, her counterpart from another universe had entered this one and left the 'gift' of her ovum for the Borg. Its existence meant that Seven could provide genetic material for offspring that was hers down to the smallest genetic strand, and now it seemed, the gift held even greater potential than any of the women had anticipated.

"This is wonderful," Janeway said with genuine enthusiasm. "What would such an operation entail?"

"I would clone organs from the medical data base templates, using the ova genetic strands to grow the actual tissue," he said. "Then attempt to transplant them into Seven. The risk of rejection seems very small, thanks to the fact that it would essentially be her DNA that would be used."

Janeway was thrilled for her partner. She knew how devastated the young woman had been when she had been told she could not have children. This must seem like her dreams had all been restored.

"How soon could such a thing be implemented?" the captain asked.

"It would take a few weeks to grow the organs," the Doctor said. "The operation itself should only take a few hours, and assuming no complications, Seven would be back on her feet in a day or so."

Janeway shook her head at the wonder of it. "We are so grateful to you, Doctor," she said sincerely.

He did not blush ... emergency holograms were not capable of it perhaps ... but he was obviously pleased.

"No."

Startled, Janeway looked at her partner. "Seven?"

The Borg looked almost upset, and the captain reached over, taking her hand.

"I cannot do this," Seven said, her eyes bleak.

The Doctor frowned. "Seven, I assure you, the operation is perfectly safe, baring complications," he said. "I don't forsee there being any."

Seven's gaze was troubled when she looked at the captain and Janeway squeezed her hand. "What is it?" Janeway asked softly.

"Kathryn, I shall always require nanoprobes to regulate my implants," Seven told her in a sorrowful tone. "And in turn, shall always require a cortical implant to moderate my nanoprobes."

"That's true," the Doctor said, then his face darkened. "Oh, Seven. I'm sorry, that never occurred to me. I was so happy to have discovered this..." He took a breath and looked at Janeway shamefully. "This is my fault, Captain. I didn't take into account all the consequences."

Janeway looked back and forth between him and her partner. Obviously they both understood what the other was talking about, and judging from their expressions, it wasn't good. "Will someone tell me what those consequences are?" she said in frustration.

"Captain, any offspring that Seven bore would, by virtue of the process, have nanoprobes as part of their physical development from the time they are conceived," the Doctor explained. "I don't even know what that would mean with regards to how the fetus would develop, but it is probable that such nanoprobes incorporated into a lifeform by that method could not be rendered dormant and removed from the body. At the very least, the baby would require a cortical implant be installed to moderate the nanoprobes in order to prevent what happened to you from occurring within him or her."

Janeway inhaled slowly, absorbing this. She glanced over at Seven who was regarding her anxiously.

"I could not do that to our offspring, Kathryn," she said softly. "It would be wrong."

Janeway nodded. "Of course, Annika," she said gently. "You're right. I'm sorry if this has hurt you. It should have been good news."

"It was," Seven said. She looked back at the Doctor, and offered a tremulous smile. "I appreciate that you were thinking of my happiness. It means a great deal to me."

"I'm sorry I was so hasty, Seven," he said with genuine remorse.

She reached over and touched his hand fleetingly. "I am still grateful to you," she told him intently.

He looked at her, then nodded briefly.

Janeway took a breath. "In the meantime, that leads us to something else I wanted to address," she said. Intrigued, the other two looked at her and she squeezed Seven's hand again. "I know that I must be acquiring nanoprobes from Seven during our ... more intimate moments. Does that mean I'm full of them again?" She adored her partner, but the thought of more nanoprobes infecting her body after the last incident chilled her.

The Doctor blinked. "Of course not," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because, they're keyed to her DNA," he said. "Unless she injects you with specific assimilation nanoprobes, which I certainly hope she's not doing..." He paused and looked at them, obviously considering that a possibility as if it were some form of kinky sexual technique the couple indulged in.

"I am not," Seven said frostily.

He spread his hands. "Then they'd just go dormant. Otherwise, Seven wouldn't be able to walk around the ship without assimilating everything. She sheds nanoprobes along with her flakes of skin, just as we all do. If they remained active after leaving her body without being programmed to do so, we'd all know it by now. I can assure you, they do not."

Janeway nodded, trying not to show her relief. She did not wish to hurt Seven by implying she was frightened of the microscopic cybernetic machines, but she could not deny how much she was glad to hear the Doctor's words.

Seven tightened her grip on the captain's hand reassuringly, almost as if she knew what Janeway was thinking.

"All right," Janeway said. "Then I want you to harvest some eggs from my ovaries as well."

She realized she had startled them, and she took a breath, raising her chin.

"Why?" Seven asked.

"Because if anything should happen to me, you would still have ... options," Janeway said, very carefully not looking at her spouse. "You could still have our children regardless of what methods it would require."

The Doctor blinked, an expression of dismay on his face as if aware the discussion had just moved into someplace he shouldn't be. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and stood up, clearly assuming they would likely require some privacy at the moment.

"Of course, Captain," he said, motioning awkwardly at sickbay which was visible through the transparency. "I just have to get the necessary equipment. It is a fairly simple procedure and shouldn't take too long."

He quickly made himself absent and Janeway felt Seven's eyes boring into her.

"I believed you said that you would respect my choices," Seven said softly.

"I do, darling," Janeway said gently. "I always will. That doesn't mean I'm not going to stack the deck on my side as much as I can. Have you ever known me not to?" She dared to glance over at her partner, trying to judge her reaction

Seven considered that. "No," she said flatly. "You will always attempt to fight for life ... even when you are dead." She stared at Janeway a few seconds longer, then abruptly reached over and pulled the captain close, kissing her. "You ... are the most incorrigible being I have ever met," she murmured lovingly against her lips.

A bit flustered, Janeway returned the kiss quickly, then composed herself as the Doctor returned with a medical probe. She tried not to feel to triumphant as she began to shrug out of her uniform, hoping that this contribution from her would be the deciding factor to allow Seven to choose life rather than death should anything happen to the captain.

Granting them both a peace about the possible future, a peace which had been eluding them for some time.

1600 Hours

Jake limped out of the turbolift, testing the air with relief. It had taken him quite some time before he had finally worked his way back to the deck containing his lair, and he slunk despondently down the corridor to his door. With an effort, he jumped up and activated the door, entering his home wearily. Unfortunately, neither of his mistresses were home nor had been for a while judging from the scent, and disappointed, he drifted over to the corner where his belongings were kept.

He nosed his box of toys, lacking even the enthusiasm to pull out his favorite ... the rubbery thing shaped like a pork chop which squeaked when he bit it ... before sniffing apathetically at his doggy dish. He took a few mouthfuls of food, but he was still stuffed from his mooching outside the mess hall and he really wasn't that hungry. His ribs continued to ache from his run-in with the containers, and he whined, flopping onto his doggy bed where he bit fretfully at his leg. The wound still stung from where the creature's tentacle had wrapped around it. Depressed, he licked at the burn, wincing at the taste, then finally with a long drawn out groan, he plopped his head onto his paws, his soft brown eyes moist.

He wished his people would come home since he was in dire need of some affection, though he suspected that they would be very upset about the mess he had made in cargo bay two. He heaved a depressed sigh. Seven would look at him with those frosty cool eyes while the captain's face would go all stern and hard, making him feel like crawling across the floor on his belly. Then they would scold him in tones designed to make him whimper, and any spontaneous affection would be rare for the next few days while the discipline in their commands would increase.

Perhaps it would be better if they didn't come home for a while, just so he could prepare himself or better yet, forget this day had ever happened.

Depressing really, since it had started off so promisingly.

1700 Hours

"Do you think I made the right decision?"

Seven had startled Janeway, and the young woman clarified.

"For not wanting to undergo the operation, I mean."

Janeway moved closer as they walked through the corridors, putting her hand on the small of Seven's back, the Borg feeling the heat of it penetrate to her bones.

"Of course, darling," the captain said. "You were absolutely correct. We can't risk infecting our offspring with unregulated nanoprobes." She looked at her in obvious puzzlement. "Why are you second guessing yourself now?"

Seven sighed. "I do not know," she said. "The past few months have been ... confusing. It has been my dream to have children, yet when I have the opportunity to do so, I refuse it."

"Darling, it just means you're doing what's best for them and for you," Janeway said comfortingly, sliding her arm around the Borg's waist and squeezing her tenderly.  The corridor was quite empty of traffic at the moment, and apparently Janeway decided it was alright for an affectionate gesture. "You've just learnt the number one rule for having children; that their needs must take precedent.  If you're not prepared to do that, then having offspring should never be considered."

"Even if it means that you still have to become pregnant?" Seven asked, resting her arm on Janeway's shoulders as they walked. "I know you seem ... reluctant to go through that."

Janeway studied her a few moments, then smiled oddly. "Do you remember how you pretended not to like having Jake around in the beginning, even when you absolutely adored him?" she said gently.

"I did not appreciate suddenly acquiring a puppy," Seven insisted stubbornly.

"Sure you didn't," Janeway said in a tone that let the Borg know she did not believe her for a second.  "That's how I am when I talk about becoming pregnant."

Seven considered that.  "Is this a matter of 'protesting too much'?" she asked.

Janeway nodded.  "Something like that," she said.

Seven looked around, noting that no one was in sight and leaned over, stealing a kiss from the captain. "I believe I understand now," she said. "Thank you, Kathryn."

Janeway shot her a grin and released the hug as they reached the holodeck. The panel readouts noted that it was unoccupied, and Seven realized they were a bit late for their scheduled time. She watched as Janeway touched the control pad, programming in their holo-simulation, and Seven was intrigued to see that it was different than any she had seen before, something called Burley's. They could not play Velocity until Janeway had built herself up a bit more physically, but this scenario was certainly not the beach simulation where they had been swimming for their recreational time.

Seven raised an eyebrow as they entered, looking around at the dimly illuminated room, the low bar which ran along one wall where a bartender polished a glass disinterestedly. It reminded Seven greatly of the ancient Earth World War II simulation of the French bistro where she had been a lounge singer, and the captain had been the owner named Katrine. Seven remembered the white tux the captain had worn then with great fondness, though the rest of the scenario was actually a plot devised by a group of hostile aliens known as Hirogen. This reconstruction of the nightclub, however, was somewhat different.  In the WWII program, the piano had dominated the bar, but here, a couple of low rectangular tables took up a good part of the room.  They had green felt surfaces which contained depressions at the four corners and sides, and there were no chairs surrounding them which seemed to preclude their being dining tables of some sort.

Janeway ignored the bartender and immediately went over to one of the tables, pulling out items from a compartment beneath it.  There was a black triangle made of a hard plastic material and several brightly colored balls, arranging them together on the emerald surface. Then she went over to a rack on the wall containing long wooden sticks where, after much consideration where she examined each one intently, she finally chose two of them.

Seven, who had been watching with great interest, finally surrendered to her curiosity. "What are you doing?" she asked. "What is this place?"

Janeway flashed her a smile, showing her dimples which made Seven somewhat nervous.

"I thought we'd try something new tonight," the captain said, handing the Borg one of the sticks. "Burley's is a tavern in San Francisco where I used to spend my off duty time. This piece of wood is called a cue.  I'm going to teach you how to play pool."

"'Pool'," Seven repeated with confusion. "I see no water."

"Not that kind of pool," Janeway said patiently. "This is a game of skill and percision. Not that physically challenging, but it's certainly a mental exercise."

"Oh," Seven noted. She paused. "Why?"

"Because it's fun," Janeway said. "Trust me."

Seven took a breath. Sometimes when Janeway said 'trust me' in that particular tone of voice, it actually meant that Seven should not trust what was about to happen at all.  Still, she didn't think that Janeway was about to do anything particularly unpleasant, not like the time she convinced the Borg to try something called 'escargots' only to discover later what they actually were.

"Very well," she said warily.

The Borg examined the stick in her hands, seeing how it was tapered at one end, tipped with a rubbery material, while the rounded wood was lacquered, simplistic designs encircling it. She thought it might make a fairly decent weapon in a pinch, though she wasn't sure why that had popped into her head.  Too much exposure to B'Elanna, no doubt. She glanced over at the table, and saw that Janeway had removed the triangle carefully, leaving the balls pressed together in the same geometric shape. The captain then placed another ball, a solid white one, at the other end of the table.  Seven tilted her head as Janeway used the stick, her 'cue', to poke at the white ball firmly, sending it careening into the other balls which split apart from their neat pattern, and scattered over the table. Three of the balls disappeared, falling into the depressions with significantly loud thuds, and Seven heard their progression somewhere inside the table until they abruptly reappeared in a cavity at the end.

Seven raised an eyebrow. Apparently, this was quite a noisy sort of game.

"That was called the 'break'," Janeway explained. Using the end of her stick to point out the various balls, she continued. "You'll note that there are two types of balls, striped and solid. Two solids dropped into the pockets and one striped. That means that I have my choice of which group of balls I have to pocket. My opponent plays with the other group."

"The purpose of this?" Seven asked, eyeing the table.

"The winner is the one who manages to pocket all their balls first," Janeway said. "At this point, I will continue to shoot until all my balls are gone, or until I miss a shot. The solid black ball is called the Eight Ball, and is saved until final shot. If I pocket that accidentally before then, I lose. The white ball is the one I use to knock the other balls in. If I pocket it, it becomes your turn, even if I managed to pocket the ball I said I would." The captain eyed her. "Any questions?"

"Why are you allowed to go first?" Seven asked. "It seems that you have an unfair advantage."

"This is just for practice," Janeway said, nudging Seven in the stomach with her thumb as she passed. "Don't be so competitive."

"I am competitive?" Seven could hardly believe that such a statement had just come out of her partner's mouth, requiring an effort not to roll her eyes.

"Just pay attention," Janeway said, bending over fetchingly as she aimed the tapered end of the cue at the white ball. "Three ball in the right corner pocket."

Seven watched and listened closely as Janeway proceeded to clear the table, calling her shots and providing Seven with little pointers, such as noting the position of where the cue tip struck the ball. The captain went on to explain how that imparted spin, as well as how the balls rebounded off the side cushions, and the angle with which they would drop properly into the holes. She finished off with a flourish, banking the eight ball off three sides, and Seven realized that Janeway could be considered a very good practicioner of this 'pool'.

"Now I understand why you like this game," Seven said dryly when Janeway straightened, looking at her. "Your opponent does not even have the opportunity to play while you acquire your victory."

Janeway grinned unrepentantly at her and set up again. "It's not just one game, Seven," she said. "It's so many games per match, and now it's your turn. Come here and I'll show you how to shoot."

She moved Seven over to the head of the table, and wrapped her arms around her, showing her how to position the cue. The captain's hands were warm as she covered Seven's, arranging her fingers properly so that the cue would ride smoothly between them, and the Borg was acutely aware of Janeway pressing tightly against her from behind, how her breasts pushed against her back, and the way the captain's groin ground provocatively against her buttocks.

She suddenly began to acquire an appreciation for the game.

"Now, just shoot the white ball hard," Janeway said softly in her ear, releasing her hands though she remained close behind Seven. "Try to scatter the other balls as much as possible."

"Is it required that your hand be on my gluteus maximus during this?" Seven noted curiously, glancing over her shoulder at the crooked grin which appeared on her partner's face.

"No, that's just so I have something to do while you're shooting, darling," Janeway said in a low voice as she squeezed the body part in question. "Do you object?"

"No," Seven said. "I was merely curious."

She took a breath, and shot, pleased when she saw the balls spread across the surface. A striped red ball dropped into the corner pocket, and she quirked an eyebrow.

"I can shoot again?" she asked.

"Yes, but only the striped balls," Janeway said, and gave her partner a fond pat before releasing her to move around the table.

Seven straightened and studied the surface, memorizing the positioning of each ball. It seemed a fairly simple game of mathematical angles and precision, which of course, was right up her alley. In no time at all, she had cleared the table, pocketing the eight ball with a gentle tap of her cue. Then she looked up at the captain, taking in the expression of Janeway's face, and was forced to swallow her smile. She did tuck the moment away in her eidetic memory, however, because she knew she would always cherish that expression. It was absolutely priceless.

"You've played this before," Janeway said, her jaw twitching.

"Not at all," Seven said honestly. "However, the game itself is merely a matter of angles, and the mathematical assessment of the spin of the ball.  There is no need to shoot quickly, unlike Velocity, so each factor can be considered precisely. It seems a fairly uncomplicated exercise."

Janeway smiled and it was not a pleasant smile, more a show of teeth than anything else, and Seven knew she had piqued her partner's pride.

"Okay," the captain said in a dangerous voice. "Now we will play for real."

Seven took a breath and stepped back as Janeway racked them up again, this time doing the break herself. However, Seven's prowess had apparently rattled the captain a bit, and no balls fell into the pockets. The Borg made the mistake of smiling faintly, and the competition was on; her precision against Janeway's experience and skill. Then Janeway began cheating, or at least, Seven was sure it was not entirely legal, since the series of pointed comments and strategic moves were obviously intended to distract the Borg every time she attempted a shot. Seven only fell for the them occasionally, but they were costly errors.

The throat clearing at a crucial moment lost her a game when she missed an easy shot, granting Janeway the opportunity to clear the table. Then, there was the casual brush along the inside of her thigh by the captain passing behind her as she attempted a particularly difficult combination which sent the eight ball into the side pocket for an immediate loss. But when the captain became serious, taking off her tunic and sweater which left her only in a thin, sleeveless undershirt, Seven knew she was in trouble. As she went to make the winning shot, Janeway leaned over the table directly above the intended pocket, her cleavage in clear view of Seven, and the white ball missed the eight ball entirely, caroming off the table and landing on the wooden floor with a very loud thud.

The captain laughed uproariously at that point, and Seven decided that this was a game where she should not take notice of her opponent at all. What was most aggravating, however, was when Seven tried to counter with her own moves, the captain ignored her completely. Seven even resorted to coming up behind the captain and covering the small breasts through the tank top with her hands. Janeway coolly made her shot ... the eight ball in the corner pocket ... then turned around and kissed Seven so hard the Borg thought she might collapse.

"I do not understand," Seven noted when she had finally caught her breath. "Surely these attempts at distraction are illegal."

"Of course they are, darling," Janeway murmured, snuggling up to her. "I was only having fun. In a real game, it's bad form to try things like this. It really does come down to skill and mental endurance."

Seven frowned. "I do not even wish to know how and where you learned to ignore my last tactic," she said.

Janeway laughed a throaty, husky chuckle. "I'm just very focused when I play pool," she said. She regarded her partner speculatively. "You know, you really are a remarkable player."

"Thank you," Seven replied, honestly pleased.

"There must be a way to use that," the captain said thoughtfully.

Seven tilted her head. "'Use' it?"

The crooked smile returned, and Seven felt a little nervous again.

"Yes," Janeway said. "We just have to get someone like Tom Paris or Ensign Hicks into a game, let them think they're hustling you, then add up the replicator rations. Those two always have a hoard of slips from all the illicit betting they have going on in the lower decks. They're just ripe for the plucking."

Seven blinked. "For what purpose?" she asked.

Janeway arched a brow and squeezed Seven's waist tightly.

"Momma needs a new pool cue, babe," she murmured, sliding against her wantonly.  "Will you help me scam one out of 'em?"

Seven considered it, trying to work her way through the slang which was very uncharacteristic of the captain. Perhaps this 'pool' had other requirements ... like learning a new language.

"I will help you do anything you want," she said finally, then paused. "Except be a pirate."

Janeway kissed her sweetly.

"We can talk about the pirate thing, later," the captain told her.

1800 Hours

Janeway sobered abruptly as she noticed Jake did not get up from his doggy bed to greet them. Since the couple was obviously in a good mood, the captain laughing as they entered, this was definitely abnormal. The only time Jake hesitated was when one of them was unhappy, the pup sensing it and apparently knowing that a boisterous greeting would not be appreciated. On this occasion, however, he merely slumped in his bed, and whimpered quietly.

"Is something wrong?" Seven asked from behind her as Janeway knelt next to the dog.

"I don't know," Janeway muttered, noting the mark on the animal's foreleg. She reached down and gently touched it, the dog whining pathetically as she examined it. "Pass me a tricorder, please."

Seven took a few steps over to the nearest work station, and fished a tricorder from the compartment, handing it to the captain who scanned the wound. The Borg looking at the readings from over Janeway's shoulder, her hand resting lightly on the back of the other woman's neck.

"It appears to be an acidic burn,"  Seven noted worriedly.

"But from what?" Janeway asked with equal concern. While she went in the bedroom and fetched the dermal regenerator, Seven took the tricorder and began to scan the quarters. The captain returned, and used the medical device to repair the wound as Jake rolled his eyes at her gratefully, licking her hands.

"I am detecting nothing," Seven noted with a frown as she went from one end of their living space to the other. "There are no residual traces of either an acidic compound, or an energy discharge."

"It's almost as if something was wrapped around his leg though I don't know how that would have happened, or how he would have managed to free himself of it," Janeway said, patting the pup's gently. He got up and pushed his head into her lap, under the captain's arm, hiding his eyes which he only did when he had done something wrong and wanted his mistresses to forgive him. Janeway glanced up at Seven who was observing this narrowly.

"I will check our quarters again," the Borg said coolly. "Perhaps I missed damage somewhere."

Janeway felt her lips twitched. "I guess you'd better," she said. She drew out Jake's head, cupping it in her hands as she looked down at her pet. "What have you been up to, dog?" she murmured, studying his face as if she could read his mind.

He whined, and pushed his head back under her arm.

"Oh boy," she muttered. "It must be bad."

"Nothing," Seven said, returning from the bedroom. "I see nothing out of place. Even his toys are all still gathered up in his box."

"Did anyone have him out today?" Janeway asked, releasing the dog and standing up.

Seven touched her work consol, checking the schedule of the crewmembers who had volunteered to take Jake out for a run every day, as well as play with him.

"Ensign Lian has today," Seven said. "However, she has made a notation that she was unable to due to her exchanging duty shifts with another, so she had Lt. D'Vor replace her."

"Maybe he knows," Janeway said, touching her comm badge. "Janeway to D'Vor."

"D'Vor here, Captain," the young man from security replied.

"Did you notice anything odd about Jake when you took him out today?" she asked.

"I didn't take him out, Captain," he responded, obviously puzzled. "I stopped by but he wasn't in your quarters. Of course, I didn't actually go into the quarters to look for him, but he's usually waiting at the door, and when he didn't come when I called, I assumed Ensign Lian had changed her mind and taken him instead."

Janeway blinked, startled. "I see," she said. "Very well, Lieutenant. Carry on."

She glanced at Seven who raised an eyebrow, clearly as baffled as she was. The captain touched her badge. "Janeway to Lian."

"Lian here, Captain."

"Did you take Jake out?"

"No, Captain, I swapped with Lt. D'Vor," she responded. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Janeway said. "Thank you, Ensign."

"This is ... unusual," Seven noted as the captain cut off the channel.

"It is," Janeway agreed, looking down at the pup who had crept back onto his cushion. She inhaled slowly. "Perhaps that's why he's acting as if he had done something wrong. He didn't go to D'Vor when he called."

Seven looked unconvinced. "I find that unlikely," she said. "He enjoys going out very much."

The Borg turned back to her work console and tapped into the personal log files. Though every area of the ship had sensors which could monitor them for security purposes, only the people living there, or the ship's chief of security with the captain's personal authorization could activate or replay the logs in crew quarters. Seven had developed the habit of having the sensor recorders come on whenever Jake moved about, using them to study his behavior while the couple wasn't there in order to facilitate her training of him. Apparently, she had not ceased that practice, though Janeway knew it had been some time since her partner had felt the need to access the monitoring system.

Seven began at the chronological sequence when she left the quarters early in the morning, knowing that Jake had been perfectly all right then. It did not take long after the day's log began for the couple to discover Jake's newest trick.

"Oh god," Janeway said, watching as the small viewscreen clearly showed Jake activating the door, and leaving the quarters. "When did he learn that? And how long has he been doing it?"

"Unknown," Seven said grimly, shooting their pet a disapproving look. Jake curled up in a ball, tucking his head under his paw. "However, it was clearly a practiced maneuver. He did not hesitate either in activating the beam, or in leaving the quarters. He did not look around for us ... in fact, he waited until I left."

"Clever dog," Janeway said without enthusiasm. "When did he get back?"

They were appalled to discover that Jake had not returned to the quarters until an hour or so before they had.

"Where the hell was he all day?" Janeway said. "Why didn't anyone inform us he was out?"

"Perhaps they assumed you had given him the run of the ship," Seven suggested. "You have familiarized him with all of it on your walks."

"Possibly," Janeway allowed. She shot a look at her partner. "We're going to have to put a stop to this."

"Immediately," Seven agreed and went over to the door panel, keying in a host of commands to prevent Jake from activating the door in the future. She had barely finished when the door chime sounded, startling her. She glanced at Janeway who shrugged, indicating she had no idea who might be visiting, and raising an eyebrow, the Borg answered it.

It was Lt. Commander Tuvok, and beside him, Harry Kim who seemed considerably agitated.

"Captain, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is a small matter of breaking and entering which has been brought to my attention," the security chief said with Vulcan aplomb. He looked significantly at the dog who had raised his head uneasily at all this sudden attention. "I believe you are harboring the suspect."

"Your dog wrecked my quarters," Harry blurted, clearly flustered and upset.

Seven tilted her head as Janeway winced. Jake rose from his cushion and skittered into the bedroom, no doubt to cower under the bed where it would take considerable effort to coax him out.

"How do you know it was Jake?" Seven asked, very protective of her pet. "Even if he was in your quarters, Jake is a very careful animal.  Why would he damage anything?"

"He was chasing Libby," Kim responded darkly. "I found their tracks in the sand they upended. My entire soil collection was spread all over the room."

"Oh," Seven said, apparently satisfied with this. She glanced at Janeway, obviously requiring the captain's assistance with this one.

"'Libby'?" Janeway muttered in an aside to her partner.

"The B'Rethna belonging to B'Elanna," Seven murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "Jake would no doubt find it ... irresistible."

"How did ... never mind," Janeway said, deciding she didn't need to know how Harry Kim had ended up with the chief engineer's pet. She pasted a smile on her face, and regarded the lieutenant with what she hoped was a comforting expression. "Lieutenant, I'm sure we can replace anything that Jake may have inadvertently knocked over."

"Knocked over! Captain, he completely destroyed the place," he objected strongly.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid, Captain," he noted evenly, "that Mr. Kim has not overstated the situation. The damage is extensive."   Janeway resisted a sigh, realizing that Tuvok would not exaggerate the problem in any fashion.  Clearly, Jake had been a very bad dog.

Janeway straightened her shoulders. "Very well, Mr. Kim, I will authorize the necessary replicator rations for you to make the required repairs," she said glumly.

She knew the excess would have to come out of her and Seven's future allotment of slips, just so it would appear fair to the rest of the crew. It seemed that not only would she not be getting a new pool cue in the near future, she'd be lucky to have enough to keep herself clothed in a fresh uniform every day. The rose would have to go, of course. She wondered bleakly how many slips Seven had squirreled away.

"However, Mr. Kim, you must also take responsibility for your own animal in this," she added pointedly. "Jake was not solely responsible for all the damage."

"Oh I have," he said forbiddingly. Her eyes widened uncertainly, and he shook his head, apparently reading the concern that was in her expression.. "Not that way, captain. I gave it back to B'Elanna. Let it wreck her quarters for a change ... not that anyone could tell the difference."

Janeway smiled weakly. "I'll authorize your request to stores immediately," she said.

"Thank you," Kim said, and nodded politely before making his exit.

Tuvok regarded Janeway evenly. "I am afraid ... 'Jake' ... did not limit his destruction to Mr. Kim's quarters, Captain," he told her.  "There was also a barrel of Mr. Neelix's serathne fluid overturned in cargo bay two. The dog's tracks clearly showed up in the residue which was spread over the deck."

"Oh god," Janeway murmured. She rubbed her forehead fretfully. "Anything else?"

"No," he said. "At least, not anything that has been reported so far."

Janeway cringed, though she attempted not to show it. "All right," she allowed. "Let me know if there's anything further."

"I will, Captain," he said. He paused, then added with practiced Vulcan innocence. "Shall I be escorting 'Jake' to the brig?"

Janeway glared at him. Vulcans were reputed to have no sense of humor of course, but she knew better, especially with him. Though Tuvok's was so dry as to be likened to a desert, it was undeniably there, and she did not really appreciate it at the moment.

"That will be all," she said frostily.

He inclined his head while raising a significant eyebrow ... as good as a smirk from anyone else ... and left. Janeway exhaled and turned to her partner who was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, regarding her expectantly.

"I don't suppose you have any extra ration slips lying around," the captain asked her hopefully. "We may need them."

Seven looked pained. "Thirty-five," she admitted. "I was accumulating them in order to replicate presents for upcoming birthdays."

Janeway offered a commiserating look. "I'm sorry darling," she said sincerely. "This is the other side of the coin to owning a pet."

"I understand," Seven said, though she was clearly not happy about it. She glanced back at the bedroom. "It will do us no good to scold him. Unless we could associate the punishment with his actions, he would not understand why we were displeased."

"I know," Janeway said. "However, he also knows he did something wrong. It wouldn't hurt to be a little more explicit with our commands the next few days, particularly when he's out on his walks. Any time he gets near the door, we'd have to call him on it so that he knows he can't leave without one of us with him."

"Agreed," Seven said. They regarded each other for a moment, then flinched in tandem when the door chime sounded again.

"I shall answer it," Seven said without enthusiasm.

It was Tom Paris, and while he did not enter, Janeway could clearly hear their conversation from where she was standing, obviously out the helmsman's view.

"Hey, Seven," he said. "I just stopped by to see if you had a chance to speak with B'Elanna."

"I did," Seven said shortly, obviously not wanting to prolong the conversation.

"What did she say?" he asked anxiously.

Seven hesitated, glancing back at the captain, and lowered her voice, though not enough.

"She seems ... resistant to your approach, Mr. Paris," she said. Another pause, then something compelled her ... possibly her innate need for accuracy ... to add a rejoinder. "Perhaps too much. She apparently continues to have very strong emotions where you are concerned."

"Oh," Tom responded, then obviously decided to take that as a positive. "Great. Keep trying, Seven. Don't give up now."

"I ... will not," Seven said reluctantly.

"Thanks, Seven," he said. "I owe you really big." To Seven's obvious discomfort, and Janeway's bemusement, he grabbed the Borg in a quick hug and disappeared.

Janeway raised an eyebrow as the young woman turned to her, having a great deal of trouble looking her directly in the eye.

"Seven of Nine," the captain said silkily. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

1900 Hours (Dusk)

Seven wished she was more skilled in the art of dissembling. She opened her mouth, profoundly relieved when what she was about to say was interrupted by another chime at the door. She raised her own eyebrow, and tried not to look too evasive.

"I shall answer that," she offered.

"No," Janeway said, dryly. "I'll get that."

The captain brushed past her, and Seven heaved a sigh that the moment of truth was forestalled ... for a few minutes longer anyway. It might allow her to come up with a reasonable explanation.

Chakotay entered without being invited, pushing past the captain, and Seven saw an odd expression cross her partner's face before she could hide it. Janeway seemed to inhale deeply, then assumed a very insincere smile.

"Commander?" she said.

"Kathryn, I just had to find out if you had spoken to B'Elanna," he said. He looked over at Seven and made a brief gesture of apology. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I just had to find out how the captain did. I'm sure she's told you that she's helping me 'woo' B'Elanna in order to get her back."

"Indeed." Seven managed a completely noncommittal tone. She looked at Janeway who shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

"I, ah, didn't exactly get a chance to speak with Lt. Torres," the captain said. "So I don't really have anything to report, Chakotay. It's only the first day."

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry, I should have realized ... I guess I'm just a little anxious. I'll leave it to you. Have a good evening."

When he left, Seven regarded Janeway evenly.

"Is there something you would care to tell me?" she asked politely.

Janeway looked very much like Jake had earlier in the evening.  Seven wondered if she wanted to go hide under the bed as well.

"Not particularly," the captain admitted. She took a breath. "Perhaps we should just talk about something else this evening, and worry about it tomorrow?" she offered hopefully.

"Ah," Seven said, considering it carefully. "That would probably be best."

Janeway forced a smile. "So what's for dinner?" she asked brightly.

Seven held her gaze a little longer, then inclined her head slightly. "I think, something familiar and favored," she suggested. "I believe this day requires a certain amount of 'comfort food' to complete it."

"Oh darling, you've have that exactly right," Janeway agreed sincerely.

Seven went over to her kitchenette while Janeway assumed a position on the stool just on the other side of the counter. The Borg immediately pulled out a bottle of wine from the cooler and poured the captain a glass, then thought about it, and poured herself one as well. They exchanged glances, then held up their glasses.

"It's a Chinese curse that says; 'May you live in interesting times'," Janeway said dryly. "I think I understand why it's a curse. To the future, and less interesting times."

"To concerning ourselves more with our own relationship," Seven added. "And less with others."

"Amen," Janeway said, and clinked her glass soundly against her partners before taking a healthy swallow of the ruby liquid.

Seven tried not to smile and sipped at her own. Then, she put it down and proceeded to replicate the ingredients for a potato, beef and corn casserole. Dinner was spent discussing the theoretical application of quantum resonance waves on deflector emitters ... a perfectly neutral topic for them both ... and it wasn't until they were clearing the table that Jake finally slunk out of the bedroom and sniffed listlessly at his supper which Seven had put down in his dish.

"He doesn't seem hungry," Janeway noted, regarding him with her arms across her chest.

"Perhaps he is still ... sad," Seven offered. She glanced at the pup. "Jake, come here."

The Irish Setter slowly approached his mistress, not cringing exactly but certainly not anxious to hear what she had to say. Seven and Janeway exchanged looks, and the Borg saw the smile playing about the captain's lips though she was trying hard not to show it.

Seven shook her head ruefully, and knelt by Jake, patting him. "You have acted inappropriately, Jake. However, I know you cannot understand in what manner, only that we are displeased with you," she said. "That does not mean we do not care for you."

"You realize that was probably so much gibberish to him, other than his name," Janeway said dryly.

"I know," Seven replied. "It is the tone that is important, however, not the content." Indeed, the dog was looking considerably more cheerful, his tail even wagging briefly. The Borg looked at her partner. "You must also show that you still care for him."

"What makes you think I do?" Janeway said wryly. "Losing those rations for the next while is going to hurt."

"Kathryn," Seven said, emphasizing the name.

Janeway's lips twitched and the crooked grin reappeared. "All right," she surrendered, kneeling beside her partner and her pet, petting the dog which was apparently all Jake needed to make his world complete once more, the tail now wagging so hard, his entire hindquarters were swaying. "Somehow, I don't think he needs a playtime tonight, however," she added.

"No," Seven agreed. "His day appeared to be quite full."   She felt Janeway's eyes on her, and she glanced over, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

Janeway was staring at her with a very familiar look in her eyes, and she leaned against Seven, nudging her gently. "I think we could use some more playtime, however," she said, her voice dropping into that husky trill.  Obviously, she was more than ready to pick up where they had left off in the holodeck.

"Indeed," Seven responded, feeling a thrill of anticipation shoot through her. "What did you have in mind? More pool?"

Janeway offered that elegant little leer she did so well. "More in keeping with practicing our 'distractions'," she elaborated.

"Ah," Seven remarked. She leaned closer and kissed Janeway sweetly, lingering on the soft lips. "That would be ... acceptable."

Janeway smiled and took Seven's hand in hers as she stood up, drawing the Borg with her into the bedroom. The couple shut the door firmly behind them to prevent the dog from following, and stood next to the bed, kissing slowly and passionately, undressing each other with relaxed and comfortable pleasure, controlling their desire for the moment, letting it simmer rather than flare into the incendiary need it could so easily become. Seven took the comm badge from Janeway's tunic, placing it on the night stand, then carefully removed each pip from the captain's collar as she let her mouth play over Janeway's.

"Perhaps this should be my responsibility from now on," she suggested between the gentle touches of their lips.

"I agree," Janeway agreed readily, returning the kisses with obvious enjoyment. "Especially ... if you're going to .... remove my pips ... this way."

Seven smiled and kissed her again, deeper. "If that is your wish," she promised, pulling off the captain's tunic completely.

Janeway returned the smile and slid her arms around Seven's neck, unfastening the Borg's outfit and pulling it down. They tossed the unwanted clothing on the lounger on the other side of the room, intending to recycle them later, and Janeway drew back the bedding, revealing fresh, Starfleet issued linens.

Seven crawled into the bed after her and pulled the smaller woman close to her, the entire length of her body touching Kathryn's warmly, feeling as she always did that she had finally returned home in some undefinable, but quite unequivocal sense. Janeway pressed against her tightly, finding her lips with deep kisses, using her lips and tongue as if she were trying to absorb the young woman into her very soul.

"Lights up or down?" Kathryn murmured after a few moments.

"I enjoy looking at you," Seven responded huskily. "They could be ... more intimate, however."

"Yes," Janeway said, then added in a louder tone. "Lights, one quarter."

The computer obediently dimmed the room's illumination to that of a low wattage bulb.

"Much better," Janeway noted with a faint smile, kissing Seven again.

Her hands were light on the Borg's skin, fingertips tracing over her shoulders, her neck, down the slope of chest then up over her arms again. Seven so adored these very gentle caresses, the way they trailed fire over her flesh yet seemed barely in contact with her. She did not have the words to describe how being with Kathryn made her feel, only that there was no other place that she wanted or needed to be, could ever imagine being.

"Annika," Kathryn muttered into her ear, nipping at the earlobe, flicking it with her tongue.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven whispered, arching as the wonderful hands moved over her breasts, tracing the pinkish nipples gently.

"I need to tell you something," the captain said, nibbling at the Borg's bottom lip.

"Can it ... wait?" Seven responded, finding it hard to focus on what Janeway was talking about.

Janeway hesitated, then kissed Seven soundly. "Yes," she said, when they finally parted. "It can. At least, until afterward."

"I am glad," Seven responded. She moaned involuntarily as the hands covered her breasts fully, squeezing gently. "Because it is ... very hard ... to concentrate ... oh, Kathryn."

"Mmm, my love," Janeway breathed, kissing along the line of Seven's throat, moving ever downward. "I adore you." She covered the nearest nipple with her mouth, flicking it lightly with her tongue.

"I love you so much," Seven murmured. She felt the drawing on her nipple, igniting the pleasure within her as she ran her hands lovingly over the captain's scalp, delighting in the softness of the short hair, stroking her lover's scalp. She never really knew what she said at times like this ... only that the words came directly from her heart. "You are so beautiful ... My Kathryn, I want you ... I need you so much ..."

"Tell me," Janeway responded, between gentle tastes of her spouse's warm, velvet soft flesh. "Tell me what you want, darling."

"You," Seven moaned. "I want you. Love me, Kathryn. Please love me."

"Oh my darling, I do," Kathryn whispered. " With all my heart."

Moving languidly over to Seven's other breast, Janeway accorded it the same loving attention, the same tender worship. Then slowly, with familiar yet always enticing skill, she continued her delectable course down over the Borg's stomach, nuzzling it. Seven gasped as Janeway nudged her legs apart, and she felt the warm breath move over her most intimate flesh.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered, her head lolling on the pillow, helpless under the sensation of her lover's touch. She waited with anticipation as Janeway paused, hovering over her. "Oh, Kathryn, please ... do not tease me ...."

"Shh," Janeway soothed softly, using her fingertips to part the lips which were swollen, thick with moisture and desire. "No teasing, my love ... not tonight ..."

So gently, so delicately, so very tenderly, Janeway drew the tip of her tongue along Seven's exquisitely sensitive bundle of nerves, barely touching it. It was far more powerful than if she had fallen upon it with a strong caress, and Seven cried out, the touch like a benediction granted her by this person she loved so much. She flexed her knees, bringing her legs against her, opening herself completely to her partner as her right hand stroked Kathryn's head, her fingertips light on the wonderful cheekbones. Seven could hardly bear the sheer pleasure of it, the way Janeway lingered over her, drawing out the sensation with every slow, sweet contact. Her desire built with deep and steady strength as Janeway touched her, tasted her ... loved her.

She felt Kathryn's finger, so long, so gentle, pressing against her, then into her, sliding easily in the wetness. Seven heard the sticky, provocative sounds of its entry which heightened her pleasure, and she moaned again, shuddering under its strong flexing so deep inside her. Then another touch, a smaller finger probing gently at her below that, the tantalizing touch that only Kathryn was allowed to do. Seven did not know why she found this so pleasurable, particularly since the captain did not share this appreciation, but she had come to understand how very intimate it was, and her lover was always so extremely careful with it, so very tender, never rushing no matter how passionate they both felt.

Then Janeway's mouth, stronger now, her tongue stroking the throbbing flesh firmly, her lips pulling at it, and Seven could no longer think, could no longer reason, could no longer do anything but experience the waves of sensation, the absolute overwhelming physicalness of it. When Seven finally drifted back to herself, Janeway was moving upward, withdrawing, kissing the same trail to Seven's face that she had traversed when leaving it that ecstatic eternity earlier.

Seven moaned into Janeway mouth, tasting her own essence on her lover's lips, accepting the kiss that went on and on as she blinked back the tears which had filled her eyes. Janeway's breathing was harsh, the captain fully aroused, and Seven pulled her close commandingly, her hands moving firmly over the captain, finding those places she knew so well. She often thought Kathryn was more responsive than her, more demanding, yet at the same time more receiving of the Borg's caresses, loud and occasionally profane in her comments of what she was feeling, and what she wanted Seven to do next until she inevitably grew incoherent and guttural. Kathryn was rarely moved to tears when she climaxed, unlike Seven, but she seemed to experience it longer, harder and with a great deal more verbal appreciation. Then afterward, she would collapse soft and limp in Seven's arms, so completely unresisting, surrendering utterly to the echoing after shocks, and cuddling close to the Borg as if needing her partner to protect her from the universe until she had found herself again, something the young woman was only too glad to do.

They clung together in the twisted sheets, finding a cozy spot in the exact center of the bed, entangled in unified sharing, close, warm, infinitely safe and secure. Janeway sighed quietly, nuzzling into Seven's throat, snuggling as near as she could even as Seven held her tightly.

"You are so wonderful," Kathryn murmured. "I love you, darling."

"I love you," Seven whispered, her eyes closed. At moments like these, the emotion was so strong within her that tears of love and happiness lay just below the surface, her chest full and almost aching from the sheer joy of this. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. "What did you wish to tell me?"

"Hmm?" Janeway responded sleepily.

"You wanted to tell me something," Seven reminded her quietly.

"Umm," Janeway murmured, her body settling heavily against her partner. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"All right," Seven said lovingly. "Good night, Kathryn."

"'Night, my Annika," Janeway whispered.

Seven smiled faintly and kissed Janeway gently on the forehead. She was curious, but not overly concerned. After all, Janeway knew best if it could wait or not.

And tomorrow was always another day.

2200 Hours (Post Dusk)

Jake raised his head, listening intently. The sounds from the other room had finally ceased, even the soft murmurs and mutters of warm emotion between his people. They did so adore each other, and that love consistently spilled over onto him, but he was still glad that they had finished that silly game they enjoyed playing with each other so often. It was hard to sleep when they were yelping and howling like that. It made him feel sometimes as if they were being attacked by wolves or something, even though he knew they were perfectly safe.

He was was quite aware that he had disappointed his people today somehow, and he was truly regretful for that. He also had some dim recognition of the fact that his excursions during the day had now come to an end, though that was more a sense than a concrete fact. Still, after the day he had experienced, perhaps that was not such a bad thing. All in all, it had been far more eventful than it needed to be, and he would not soon forget what had happened in the cargo bay. That was an area he had no intention of ever entering again ... no matter how much it smelled of Seven.

He sighed and flopped his head down on his paws, closing his eyes. Sleep crept upon him on feather light paws and he drifted off where his dreams were filled with bright blue creatures with big dark eyes.

Which he could never seem to catch, no matter how hard he tried.

The End

•  This is the 19th in the Just Between series.  It brings back a character which may or may not have deserved to be brought back but here it is in any event.

• This story was posted during the first part of June, 1999, after the show had completed its fifth season.

• To all my regulars and you know who you are, my thanks for your continued support.
Just Between Deceptions
G. L. Dartt

Regarding her Vulcan security chief with dark grey eyes, Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager really didn't want to acknowledge what she was dealing with, though she knew it had only been a matter of time before this issue needed to be faced. The two Starfleet officers were sitting in the captain's ready room, and she had just finished going over the list from the padd Tuvok had handed her as soon as he had walked through the door. She supposed that she must look a little shaken despite her best efforts to hide it.

"Are you sure?" she asked, realizing it was a silly question. He wouldn't have offered the list to her otherwise.

He inclined his head, one elegantly angled eyebrow raising slightly. "I do, Captain," he said. "They have the best chance at  carrying out our mission successfully."

Janeway took a breath and stared down at the padd on her desk.

"Lt. Paris?"

Tuvok tilted his head. "He is a formidable pilot, possessing skills which may become necessary in convincing others that we are successful pirates," he said. "There has to be a reason we were able to 'evade your pursuit'. Plus, his limited medical abilities could prove to be useful since we are unable to take either the Doctor or Sek due to their holographic nature."

She nodded briefly. "Neelix?" She was surprised. The Delta Quadrant native was not one she would have thought the Vulcan would want along on this mission. The Talaxian and the Vulcan were complete opposites in demeanor and outlook, which provided some definite friction on occasion.

"Mr. Neelix is an accomplished pilferer," Tuvok pointed out. "What better way to infiltrate a pirate enclave than with another?"

"I didn't know you considered him a ... pirate, Tuvok," she said dryly.

"He has done many things very similar to these pirates in his effort to survive prior to meeting us," Tuvok noted. "It is not a matter of judging him, Captain. Merely acknowledging his skills."

"All right," she said. "Lt. Ara?"

"She was a member of the Maquis, Captain," Tuvok explained.

"I know who she is," Janeway said with a touch of asperity. "I've always found her quite quiet however ... almost ... well, reserved. Not the sort I would choose for such a mission."

If Tuvok were not a Vulcan, he might have smiled briefly at this point. Instead, he merely flicked his eyebrow again. "Captain, that 'quiet' exterior is exactly why I chose her," he explained. "That appearance conceals a most accomplished tactical officer. I find her to be quite ... satisfactory in her accomplishments. There is a reason she has been on my security force for the past five years, and has risen to be my third in command."

Janeway tried not to react with surprise. "I see," she said. She pursed her lips. "You know best, Tuvok."

"Thank you, Captain," he said, and if his tone was faintly ironic, neither of them chose to notice it.

Which brought the captain to the remaining two names on the list. Tuvok's abilities she knew very well, and she was not surprised that he had chosen himself to head up this team. This would not be the first time he infiltrated a criminal organization, and in fact, their being lost in the Delta Quadrant all began when she took Voyager into the Bajoran badlands to retrieve him after he had infiltrated the Maquis, attempting to gain information on the rebel group. It was there that Voyager had been dragged across the galaxy by an entity known as the Caretaker, and the two crews, Starfleet and Maquis, had been forced to pool their resources as they made their long trek back to the Federation and home.

That left only the final name, and she tried to keep her voice steady as she read it off.

"Seven of Nine?"

Tuvok's gaze remained impenetrable. "It came down to her or Lt. Torres," he explained. "Lt. Torres' temper makes her an unreliable element, though it was actually her value as Chief Engineer to Voyager which forced me to leave her behind. The ship truly cannot afford to lose her whereas Seven is somewhat more ... expendable." He hesitated over that last word as if wary that Janeway's very Humanness might cause her to react badly.

In truth, it was a near thing. She knew Tuvok was not being cruel or harsh, he was merely being logical in his assessment, but the words still struck her in the stomach as if they were blows from a fist.

"Tuvok, none of this group is expendable," she said in what she hoped was a perfectly even voice, but thought that it probably held an edge of anger ... directed not at him necessarily, but at the universe in general, she supposed.

"Yes, Captain," he said. He shifted slightly. "In any event, Seven's physical strength gives her a great advantage, and her scientific as well as engineering knowledge will be invaluable. Plus, as a Borg, I can count on her to react logically and efficiently." He paused. "However, if you do not wish her to accompany us on this mission, I shall select another."

Janeway shot him a look, then got up from her desk, walking around it and him to mount the stairs to the upper level. She stared out at the stars streaking by, distorted by the warp field, and put her hands on her hips, trying to curb the fear rising in her.

"You can't, Tuvok," she said, and there was a ragged edge to her tone. "If this is the best team in your opinion, then how can I justify sending you out with anything less? We might as well scrap the whole mission instead."

"That is always an option," he allowed, having swung his chair around to regard her. She could see his reflection in the windows which loomed over the couch.

She breathed deeply. "That would be inappropriate," she said softly after a moment. "This isn't about the mission. This is about me not wanting her to go into a situation where she could possibly be endangered, even though as a crewmember, it is no less her duty than any other person on this ship."

She could hear his quiet respiration as he considered how to respond to that.

"It is logical to want to protect the beings we love, Captain," he said finally.

"I know," she said. "But is it logical to try to keep them from utilizing their abilities?"

"The mission does hold a great deal of potential for danger," he noted.

"No less for you and the rest than for her," Janeway said. She bent her head, the churning sensation inside almost making her physically ill. "If I am prepared to send you out to face such a task, then I must be prepared to send her. She is my crewmember."

"She is also your spouse," he said calmly. "It would be a difficult decision for any of us."

"But it's one that I have to make," Janeway said harshly. "Otherwise, I'm not fit to wear these pips." She rubbed her forehead fretfully, then turned her head, glancing over her shoulder. "Assemble your team in the conference room, Tuvok. I want to debrief them. Contact the rest of the senior staff as well. They need to be there."

"Understood, Captain," he said quietly.

She stood for a few moments after he left, feeling the throb of the ship's warp engines vibrate through her, and listening to the hum of the air reclamation unit, in an effort to compose herself enough to conduct this briefing just as she would any other. Finally, having steeled herself sufficiently, she left the confines of her ready room and crossed the bridge to the conference room which lay on the other side.

The large room seemed more crowded than usual, with the full complement of senior staff plus one security officer, the Bajoran woman, Ara Lerona. Janeway took her seat at the head of the table, with Commander Chakotay, her first officer on her right hand, Tuvok on her left. Next to the Vulcan sat the rest of his team though Janeway did not know if their positioning was accidental or on purpose. She did not think the crewmembers in question had been informed of their participation in the upcoming mission, though they certainly knew a plan was in the works. Voyager's helmsman, Tom Paris sat easily, his arms across his chest, while beside him, the golden spotted features of Neelix looked a trifle anxious. Janeway decided that Lt. Ara, seated across from Neelix, must certainly know she was involved on some level. After all, she was not normally privy to these meetings at all. Yet Seven of Nine who was on the opposite end of the table, facing the captain directly, probably had no idea about her selection to the team.

To Ara's left, B'Elanna Torres looked grim, as if aware she was being excluded, while the Doctor and Harry Kim filled out the rest of the staff. Without preamble, Janeway began the briefing.

"You all know that a plan has been designed in order to determine if there is some organizing factor behind the sudden increase of pirate attacks," she stated coolly. "Tuvok?"

Her security chief swung his chair around so that he was facing the rest of the group. "It has been decided that an away team will disguise themselves as nomads and attempt to infiltrate their 'community'," he said. "The following crewmembers have been selected to carry out this task; Lt. Tom Paris, Lt. Ara Lerona, Neelix ... and Seven of Nine." Janeway wondered if he had really paused for effect ... or if she was just imagining it.  "I will be leading the mission."

"I want to impress upon you," Janeway said, hoping she was not placing any more emphasis on this than she normally would, "that this mission is purely voluntary. If any of you are loathe to carry it out for any reason, there will be no censure for it. However, I must also inform you that you were each chosen carefully as the best possible participants, and I am reluctant to send out a less qualified team than you. We feel this is an important reconnaissance mission, and could have a significant outcome, not just for Voyager but for the sector itself."

The selected crewmembers exchanged glances, then Tom nodded. "I'm in," he said in his customary cocky tone. "Heck, it was my idea in the first place."

"I'm ready for whatever you need me to do," Neelix said, puffing his chest out.

Lt. Ara merely nodded briefly, and Janeway studied her covertly, trying to recognize the dangerous individual Tuvok had described in her ready room. Instead, she saw a tall, impossibly slender woman with raven black hair and dark eyes, a ridge crinkling her nose to spread off into an abbreviated 'Y' above her eyebrows. Her reserved demeanor made her look more like a librarian than a security officer yet Janeway knew Tuvok would not have exaggerated her abilities.

Seven straightened in her chair. "I will comply," she said simply.

If she knew that she had just stuck a dagger in her spouse's heart, she gave no indication of it.

Janeway glanced around. "Comments, questions?" she asked of the rest. "Now's the time to offer any last minute reservations."

"I have one," B'Elanna noted frostily. "Why wasn't I chosen for this team? With all due respect to Seven, I have a lot more experience with situations like this from my time in the Maquis."

"You were considered, lieutenant," Tuvok told her. "However, it was determined that your engineering abilities are of more value here on the ship."

Torres glared at him. "You mean Seven is more expendable than me," she said flatly. She looked at the captain. "You agree with that?" Her tone was disbelieving.

Janeway felt anger flare and with an effort, she forced it down. It made her a bit incautious, however, and the words were out her mouth before she could stop them. "If we could be sure you would work with Mr. Paris without letting your temper get the better of you, it would not be an issue."

Startled, the crew looked at her and she knew she was letting her fear for her partner get the better of her. She favored them all with a force ten Janeway 'look' and they all dropped their eyes ... all but Seven. She regarded Janeway with a disturbed expression in her face that the captain did not know how to respond to. Janeway took a deliberate breath and gentled her tone.

"Anyone else?" she asked.

Chakotay, perhaps sensing that the captain was on edge and possibly even guessing why, turned to Tuvok in an effort to slide over the awkward moment.

"What are the specifics of this plan?" he asked. Since he had helped design it, it was purely for the sake of the others in the room who were not yet privy to it. "What do you intend to do if there is someone organizing the nomads?"

As Tuvok went over the details, Janeway sat there, trying not to stare openly at her partner and wondering how she would get through the time it would take to carry out this mission. Especially since the away team hadn't even left yet, and already she was barely hanging on by her fingernails. Seven studiously concentrated on her console viewscreen as she went over the preliminary reports from Tuvok regarding the upcoming mission. She was pleased to have been included in the away team, yet anxious that she would not make a convincing pirate. She glanced up as the door hissed open, heralding the arrival of her partner who had been walking Jake, the couple's Irish Setter puppy, around the ship. Janeway detached the leash from the dog's collar, and he bounded across the room to greet his other mistress, tongue lolling happily. Seven petted him, scratching behind his ears as she watched Janeway immediately go  to the replicator, programming in a request for refreshment. The arid scent of whiskey and soda drifted into the Borg's keen nostrils, and Seven knew that meant her partner was upset with something, though the Borg was unable to determine what. Only that it had something to do with the staff meeting, and possibly with this upcoming mission. The captain had been monosyllabic ever since they had logged off duty, and had taken the dog out immediately after dinner, returning only now when it was close to their regular time for retiring for the evening.

Seven regarded the other woman surreptitiously as Janeway crossed the room and sat down on the couch, placing her drink on the coffee table after taking a substantial swallow from it. Picking up the book she had been reading in bed the night before, the captain began to stare at it, but Seven could tell the other woman's mind wasn't on the page. Instead, the marvelous blue grey eyes rarely moved, fixated on the archaic paper surface covered by ink markings, completely lost in thought.

Seven shut down her console and went over to the couch, sitting beside Janeway and slipping her arm around the smaller woman's shoulders.

"What is wrong?" she asked softly, her lips against the captain's temple.

"Nothing," Janeway said in an odd sort of voice, extremely even as if she were trying very hard not to give anything away. "You should be preparing for tomorrow morning. You leave at 1100 hours, and there are a lot of things which need to be done before then."

"I am aware of the departure time," Seven said patiently. Deliberately she took the book out of Janeway's unresisting hands, and placed it next to the half full glass of whiskey. She wrapped her other arm around the captain's chest and pulled her close. "Tell me what is wrong," she demanded quietly.

"It's nothing that you need to hear," Janeway said firmly.

Seven considered this. Clearly her partner was in full captain mode, trying to maintain that shell of command composure which was like a rock during times of crisis. The Borg had not realized this was a crisis, but perhaps Janeway knew something she didn't. Which would make sense since she was so stubbornly refusing to respond to the Borg's query.

Seven took a breath. "Tell me what is wrong or I shall tickle you until you do," she threatened.

Startled, Janeway turned her head to look at her, eyes wide with outrage. "You wouldn't dare," she said.

Seven raised an eyebrow. Obviously, she would, or the threat would not have been made in the first place. She waited patiently as Janeway studied her face, then the captain frowned darkly.

"You would, wouldn't you?" she said flatly. She regarded her narrowly, her jaw firming. "Seven, I'm asking you not to pursue this."

"If I were just a crewmember," Seven said gently. "I would accept that. However, I am not just a crewmember, I am your spouse." She let her hand drop down to Janeway's stomach though she went no further. Not yet. "Tell me."

"You are beginning to anger me, Seven," Janeway tried.

Seven flicked her eyebrow again. "Acceptable," she noted. "You are incautious when you are angry, and generally can be made to reveal things you would not when you are calm."

Janeway stared at her, then was forced to look away as a small, involuntary grin touched her lips. "Damn you," she said grudgingly.

Seven leaned forward, and nipped at the captain's earlobe. "Tell me," she hissed and dug her fingers in just a little.

Janeway jerked and grabbed her wrist. "Stop," she demanded.

"If you tell me," Seven responded reasonably.

"God, you're annoying," Janeway snorted and tried to pull away. Seven tightened her embrace and kissed the captain's temple.

"Tell me," she demanded once again.

"All right," Janeway said finally, surrendering to the embrace. "Don't tickle me. It really would make me angry and I don't want you to leave tomorrow with that being your last memory of me."

"My 'last memory'?" Seven echoed. "Are you not planning to be here when I return?"

Janeway bowed her head. "Annika, this could be a very dangerous mission," she said softly.

"Ah," Seven said, starting to see where this was going now. "I will be very careful, Kathryn. Tuvok is an excellent team leader. He will not do anything that is reckless or rash. It would be far more worrisome if Lt. Paris was in charge."

Janeway smiled despite herself. "There is that," she admitted. She took a deep breath. "I'm scared for you, darling. It isn't rational, nor is it what I should be feeling as captain. I should be equally worried about all the people I'm sending out on this mission. I look at you, however, and all I can think of is that I want you to stay here with me, where it's safe. I keep second guessing myself, wondering if this mission is really necessary, if I shouldn't just call the whole thing off."

"Would you if I were not going?" Seven asked keenly.

Janeway hesitated, looking away. "No," she said finally. "It's a viable plan, and I truly believe that for the good of the ship, as well as for the sector, we need to find out what's going on."

"I see," Seven said evenly. "What if you were going in my place?"

"That would be different," Janeway said immediately, then shot a glance at Seven who was regarding her archly. She grinned sheepishly.

"In that event, I would be the one left behind waiting for your return," Seven remarked. She considered it. "I understand that of the two of us, you have the far more difficult role to play in this, Kathryn." The captain leaned into her a little more, her head falling sideways to rest on the Borg's chest, and Seven brought her hand up to tangle in the short, auburn hair, stroking it gently. "You must remember, however, that this is not the first away mission I have been on since we have been together."

"I know," Janeway whispered. "But I've either been with you or it's never been this potentially dangerous. I didn't realize it would be this hard to send you out."

"This is what almost stopped our relationship before it had progressed very far," Seven noted worriedly. "I do not want that to happen again."

She felt the captain's arms surround her, hugging her tightly. "It won't, Annika," Janeway said reassuringly. "Remember, I wasn't even going to tell you about my concerns. You insisted."

"I did," Seven agreed reluctantly. She paused. "If you do not want me to go," she said with difficulty. "I will not."

Janeway straightened, looking at her soberly. "You're the best choice for the job," she said in an extremely serious voice. "I hate it, Annika, but you do have to go. It wouldn't be fair to the others to keep you behind ..." She dropped her eyes. "And it wouldn't be fair to you. I can't hold you back, darling. I can't protect you from the universe as much as I want to. Your capabilities are immense, and it would be wrong of me to try to limit how you use them."

"I do want to go," Seven admitted. "It sounds like a most interesting mission. Also, I would not want to let another go in my place. It would be ... inappropriate."

"It would be," Janeway agreed unhappily.

Seven pulled her closer. "I cannot tell you not to worry, Kathryn," she said softly. "Because I know it would be futile.  However, I will return to you. I swear that on my honor."

Janeway smiled faintly. "Is that Klingon honor?" she asked wryly.

Seven blinked. "No, it is my honor," she said, though she did realize she had gotten the vow's phrasing from her conversations with B'Elanna. She looked thoughtful. "It is Seven of Nine honor."

"Ah," Janeway said. She reached up to link her hands around Seven's neck and rested her forehead against the Borg's lips. "Then I'll just have to use that to keep me strong in the days ahead."

Seven kissed the smooth skin gently. "You can use the time to present Chakotay's offer as a potential mate to B'Elanna," she suggested. "Since neither I nor Lt. Paris will be here, it will be your best opportunity."

Janeway groaned and Seven raised an eyebrow. The captain had been roped in by the brooding first officer to play matchmaker between him and the volatile chief engineer, and Seven knew Janeway was desperate to find a way out of her promise to Chakotay. The Borg hoped that Kathryn would be so busy with that, she would not have time to worry about her absent spouse.

"Try to cheer me up, why don't you?" the captain murmured resentfully.

Seven's smile widened, and her embrace became sensual rather than merely affectionate. "I can think of another way to 'cheer you up'," she said huskily. "Especially if this is to be our last night together for some time."

Janeway brightened a little at that, grinning wryly. "I do hope you're thinking what I'm thinking," she muttered.

"Are you thinking that we should now go to bed and make love for the rest of the night?" Seven asked curiously.

Janeway's face broke into a smile. "We don't actually have to go to bed," she noted. She leaned forward and kissed along the line of Seven's throat, her hands slipping warm over the Borg's body through the mesh outfit.

"Ah," Seven breathed, feeling the tingles go through her as the lips trailed fire over her skin. "However, I will note that Jake has the unfortunate habit of trying to join us when we attempt to make love out here."

They both glanced at the dog who was lying on his belly with his head up, ears perked, watching the couple alertly as if just waiting for his chance to intrude.

Janeway sighed and drew away. "You're right," she said. She raised a rueful eyebrow. "Honestly Seven, once in awhile, I would like to be able to make love out in this part of our quarters. Just for the sake of having a little variety."

"I know," Seven said indulgently as she got up, taking Janeway's hands, and using them to pull the captain to her feet. "Perhaps when I am away, I will think about different places and ways that we can make love. 'For the sake of having a little variety'."

Janeway wrapped her arm snugly about the Borg's waist as they strolled into the bedroom, leaning against her. "I think I'm worried now," she quipped.

Seven raked her with a glance. "You should be," she offered, and to her great gratification, generated an actual laugh from her spouse. She loved Kathryn's smile, the way it lit up her face, the way it made her eyes sparkle a bright blue even though tonight they retained a dark shadow. Once in the bedroom, Seven undressed the captain with loving tenderness, wanting only to make that shadow go away, yet knowing full well it would remain until she finally made her way home once more.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Janeway whispered as they sank down onto the bed, their bodies entwined hotly. "How much I need you?"

"As much as I love and need you," Seven told her sincerely, holding her tightly as she delighted in the feel of the wonderfully smooth, soft skin against hers. "Kathryn, I will be all right. Please be assured that I am capable of taking care of myself."

Janeway impossibly, somehow snuggled closer. "I know, Annika" she responded in a small voice that indicated that perhaps she didn't.

Seven stifled her sigh. She did not want her partner to worry needlessly while she was away, even though she knew if positions were reversed, Seven herself would be unbearable. It occurred to her suddenly that she did not at all envy the rest of the crew who would be left behind with the captain on Voyager.

She gently ran her hands down Kathryn's back, tracing the bumpy ridge of spine, slipping over the definition of muscle as she sought out her partner's lips, kissing her deeply, lingering over her mouth's caress. It seemed very much a time for tenderness, the most loving of touches, and she slowed her stroking, trying to convey all the emotion she was feeling inside in the hopes that it would carry her partner through the next few weeks. Janeway seemed to somehow understand what Seven was attempting, and she responded in turn, sweetening her kisses, light, delicately passionate touches of her lips, her hands gentle on the Borg's skin.

"Annika," she breathed as Seven trailed down her throat. "I need to tell you ... I've been putting it off ..."

Seven did not pause in her caresses. "What?" she murmured, her lips brushing over the warm plane of Kathryn's breast bone.

"I remember," Janeway whispered, her voice shy as if not knowing how Seven would react.

"Remember what?" Seven said distractedly, nibbling her way up the slope Janeway's right breast.

"Everything," Janeway said quietly. "My memories have all been restored."

It actually took a moment for that to sink into Seven's mind, and she stopped, her lips still fastened about a soft nipple, her eyes wide as she glanced up at her partner's face. She abruptly released her touch and sat up in the bed, looking down at the captain.

"When did this happen?" she asked sharply. "How?"

"When my nanoprobes went critical," Janeway admitted bashfully. "The memories just suddenly ... returned. Completely."

Seven felt a stab of anger and hurt. "That was more than a month ago," she said, her voice chilling. "Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Janeway reached up and touched the Borg's cheek. "I wasn't sure it was permanent," she said quietly. "I was worried that they were linked to the nanoprobes themselves somehow, and as my body got rid of them ... the memories would go as well." She hesitated. "I didn't want to raise your hopes prematurely."

Seven considered that. "Very well," she allowed after a moment, but she was still not completely happy about it.

Janeway sensed that and reached up, sliding her arms about the Borg's neck and hugging her tightly, pulling her back down onto her. "I'm sorry, Annika," she mumbled into Seven's neck. "Maybe I was afraid as well."

"Of what?" Seven asked, anger giving way to puzzlement as she held her partner close.

"Of losing who and what I've become," Janeway whispered into Seven's ear, and the Borg could hear the ragged edge in the captain's tone. "I like who that is. I didn't want to ... go back to that person that puts my career first and my personal life last."

Seven kissed her gently. "That will not happen," she said quietly. She paused. "I do not think you can return to that person, Kathryn, no matter what memories you have. You have learned too much, understand now what is most important to you and to us."

"I hope so, darling," Janeway replied softly. "Maybe I should have told you sooner. I tried a few times but something always seemed to come up. However, I also know if I really wanted to tell you, I would have found a way."

"As you did now," Seven noted. She raised an eyebrow. "Before I leave."

"Yes," Janeway said. She clung to her partner suddenly, pressing against her, burying her face into the hollow of Seven's neck and shoulder and Seven felt tears dampen her skin.

"Kathryn?"

"Just hold me, Annika," Janeway whispered. "Don't let me go."

"I shall not," Seven assured quietly, cradling her spouse safely in her arms. "Kathryn, I will return to you."

"Always."

"I can't do this."

Seven stared at the captain, and Janeway realized that she had actually voiced her thought out loud.

"You cannot do what?" Seven asked, her fork held awkwardly in the air. They were having breakfast, though Janeway did not really feel like eating, and her comment had interrupted the Borg in mid-bite.

Janeway took a breath. "I can't let you go on this mission," she said. Seven's expression darkened, and she added quickly, "Not without me."

Carefully, Seven put the fork down on her plate and regarded the captain with lowered brows, a furrow appearing between her eyes.

"You do not trust me," she said, voice chilled.

"I do," Janeway protested. "Absolutely ... but I can't stay behind while you are going into potential harm. Maybe I can't protect you, but I can face the danger with you."

Seven seemed somewhat at a loss. "It is your duty to remain on Voyager," she said finally, after having searched for the words to counter this. "You are captain."

"I know," Janeway said. She looked down at her bowl of cereal and shook her head. "I should be able to do this, Annika. I should be able to send you out just as I would any other crewmember, and stand by as you and the rest carry out this assignment. I should be able to rely on Tuvok as team leader to be able to get you all through this mission, and bring you out intact."

"But?" Seven prodded evenly.

"I can't," Janeway admitted. "I can't let you do this ... not without me. I'm going to replace Tuvok as away team leader."

Seven was astounded, the captain saw, nad to be honest, Janeway was feeling not a little squeamish about it herself. The only reason she was even considering it was because she knew, without a doubt, that she could not spend the next month on Voyager waiting to hear back from the away team, not know what they were doing or where they were at any given moment. She would simply go mad. Or drive the rest of her crew mad. Neither would do the ship any good, and she had to do what was best for the ship. That was her first priority. That she had somehow seized on this reasoning to justify her actions was something that she deliberately chose not to notice.

"I do not agree with this," Seven said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded Janeway with a hooded expression.

"It's my call," Janeway said with a touch of asperity.

"I do not want you to do this," Seven said with more emphasis.

Janeway stiffened her jaw. "Why not?" she said.

"For three reasons," Seven said precisely. "One; it gives the appearance that you have no faith in my abilities. Were I not going, this simply would not cross your mind. Two; it jeopardizes the mission. You are not the best choice for this, Tuvok is. Three; I will be forced to function at a lesser capacity."

Janeway frowned darkly. "How would it force you to function at a lesser capacity?" she responded. "I expect the highest performance from you while you're on this away mission, regardless of our personal relationship."

"I will be forced to look out for you, protect you," Seven responded. "Make sure that you are safe at all times, which would hinder my freedom of action."

Janeway was outraged. "Believe it or not, Seven," she said frostily. "I was taking perfect care of myself long before you showed up."

"That is debatable," Seven noted pointedly. "In any event, it is not a matter of wanting to, it is a matter of having to. I could no more not look after you, than I could suddenly stop loving you."

Caught by the unexpected tenderness of the words stated so matter of factly, Janeway was momentarily speechless. Finally, she fixed the young woman with a piercing look. "Then what is wrong with me wanting to come along to take care of you?" she said.

Seven hesitated, considering that. "This is different," she insisted.

"How so?" Janeway pounced.

"Because..." Seven trailed off and looked stubborn.

Janeway spread her hands out. "Seven, I need to do this," she said. "I'm not going to try to keep you from danger. I don't have the right to do that, but I won't let you go alone. My place is at your side."

"Your place is in command of Voyager," Seven countered.

"Some things supercede that," Janeway remarked. "This is one of them. Chakotay is more than capable of taking command, and Tuvok will be a good first officer for him while I'm gone. In fact, very often in the Apha Quadrant, I would be expected to carry out certain missions for Starfleet without my ship."

Seven seemed stymied, her eyes flickering as she tried to come up with a way to counter that.  "What do you know about being a pirate?" she finally blurted.

"As much as any Vulcan does," Janeway responded and despite herself, she smiled. "Certainly as much as you do.  Seven, I have carried out this type of mission before."

"However, you have not been specifically trained for them as Tuvok has," Seven pointed out. She stood up, taking her plate over to the recycler where she deposited her dish and the unfinished pancakes. That was not a good sign. The captain could not remember ever seeing the efficient Borg waste food before. "Kathryn, this is incorrect."

"This is a command decision," Janeway said, stung.

"No, it is a personal decision," Seven said, looking at her sternly. "It is not like you."

Janeway pushed her bowl of unfinished cereal away, and stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "You're wrong," she said quietly. "It is exactly like me."

"I do not agree," Seven repeated.

"I think we've established that," Janeway said dryly. She touched her comm badge. "Janeway to Tuvok."

"Tuvok here."

"Please meet me in my quarters," Janeway said briefly.

"Understood."

"He will not agree either," Seven said archly.

Janeway stifled her sigh. "That doesn't matter," she said. "I've made my decision."

For long moments, they stared at each other, neither willing to give an inch or break their gaze. Finally, the door chime sounded and Seven, being closer, turned around and answered it. The tall, dark skinned Vulcan entered with a brief nod to the Borg.

He looked at Janeway. "Captain?" he said.

Janeway felt a muscle in her jaw jump. "Tuvok, I'm taking command of the away team," she said abruptly, feeling incredibly awkward. Tuvok would not become angry, but she doubted he would be pleased. "This has nothing to do with your abilities. It is a decision I've thought long and hard about, and I do believe it is best for Voyager that I do this."

There was a long pause, both women looking at him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow and held out a padd.

"The specs for the mission parameters," he said. "I suggest you follow the guidelines I set up for you regarding the outfitting of the team."

Automatically, Janeway held out her hand, accepting the padd as she stared at her security chief with shock. "You knew?" she blurted.

He tilted his head. "I ... suspected," he responded. "I did not believe after our conversation yesterday that you would be able to resist making such a decision."

The captain felt oddly detached, as if she had been hit by a phaser set at heavy stun. It occurred to her that not even Seven could predict her spouse's actions with this degree of accuracy, and Janeway wasn't sure if she liked anyone knowing her as well as this.

"I do not understand," Seven said flatly, regarding the Vulcan in something akin to astonishment. "You approve of this decision?"

He looked at her and it seemed that his eyes softened a bit, though Janeway allowed that perhaps her imagination was working overtime.

"Seven, the captain will not ask anything of her people that she is not prepared to do herself," he told the young woman. "I realize that there is a fine line between that, and giving the appearance that she is not able to rely on her crew. Sometimes it will be crossed and whether this is such an occasion remains to be seen. However, I do know she is perfectly capable of carrying out this mission as well as I could."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Janeway said wryly, flashing a look at her partner who still did not look pleased. "Let's hope the rest of the team thinks so."

"It is not anything that need concern them," he pointed out. "The decision has been made."

Seven shook her head. "I still feel this is an incorrect judgement," she complained.

Janeway grinned faintly. "It wouldn't be the first time," she reminded her, and Seven flushed slightly. Then, Janeway looked down at her padd. "However, Tuvok, I'm not sure I have the same confidence in Lt. Ara that you do," she added thoughtfully.

Tuvok held up his hand. "Captain, I do recommend strongly that you take her," he said, prepared to argue this point, at least. "It is my belief that she will be invaluable."

She held his eyes, gaging his sincerity, then dipped her head. "Understood," she said. She decided that she should be glad to make this concession, and leave it at that. She glanced at Seven. "We have a lot of preparations to make," she said. "I think we should get started."

Seven's eyes, which were still a bit dark, flickered briefly. "Aye, Captain," she said stiffly.

Janeway glanced at Tuvok with an expression of frustration, and saw his eyebrow quirk in ... amusement?

"Captain," he said politely as he turned and hastily made his escape, leaving Janeway to deal with her less than happy spouse. Janeway glared after him for a few seconds, and then glanced at her partner.

Seven was frowning as she cleared away the rest of the dirty dishes, placing them in the recycler, every motion one of abrupt precision, indicating just how displeased she was. Janeway observed her for a few moments, trying to come up with the right words to reassure her, to help the young woman understand why she was insisting on doing this. Finally, the captain realized there was absolutely nothing that would work at the moment, and decided to let it go for now. She drifted over to her work console to put in the necessary alterations to the duty roster, contacting Chakotay to inform him of the change in plans. Of course, he was far less reasonable about it than Tuvok had been, and by the time she had finished that argument, Seven had taken the couple's dog, Jake, over to Samantha Wildman's to be cared for in their absence.

Janeway made a few more notations in her log, and began a list of things she wanted monitored while she was gone, glancing up briefly when Seven returned to change into the 'pirate' outfit she had decided to wear. The Borg replicated some civilian attire for her spouse, and if she was still a little pointed in how she was absolutely not speaking to the captain while completing these preparations, Janeway decided that she would just have to live with it. Hopefully, the Borg's pique would have worked itself out by the time they actually had to leave.

Seven left once more to rendezvous with the rest of the away team in sickbay where they were completing their 'disguises'. Janeway knew that she would also have to alter her appearance, and she went into the bedroom, stripping off her uniform as she regarded the outfit Seven had laid out for her. It included heavy black trousers and sweater, a padded vest with a multitude of pockets, and stout combat boots. It was exactly like the outfit Seven was now wearing, and had worn a few months earlier to retrieve Janeway from an alien prison. The sight of it gave the captain an uneasy feeling, and she wondered if Seven was trying to make a statement of sorts with it, then decided that was far too subtle for the forthright young woman. She had to believe that Seven had chosen this attire because they were the most efficient garments for the mission, and with an effort, Janeway shook off the memory of that time in prison as she pulled on the outfit. She took a few moments to secrete a few private items she hoped she wouldn't need in the pockets, and then left her quarters, heading for sickbay.

She could only hope that this mission would end up better than it was starting.

Seven regarded her reflection in sickbay, and was suitably impressed. Her white-blond hair had been shorn, clipped short to the back of her neck, while a 'scar' was added to her cheek, slashing down from her ocular implant, and another marred her brow over her right eye. She glanced over at Tom and Neelix who had also been cosmetically 'roughed up', though they were not dressed anything like Seven.

Tom had especially been daring, going with an embroidered red vest over a cream colored silk shirt, while his sapphire, flared trousers were tucked into black leather, knee-high boots. He had disruptors ... disguised phasers ... stuck rakishly into his bright red sash, and glinting in his right ear, a bright gold earring dangled from his lobe. A red bandanna completed the ensemble, covering his fair hair.

Seven thought the helmsman was enjoying himself far too much for what could possibly be a dangerous mission, and worried that he wasn't taking it seriously enough, especially now that Kathryn had been included. Didn't he realize that the captain could be placed in jeopardy? She eyed him narrowly, and decided that if he continued to be less than attentive to the seriousness of this situation, she would just have to have 'a little talk' with him. She didn't know what that meant exactly, but it sounded suitably threatening when B'Elanna used it so Seven decided that would be what she would say to him to garner his attention if required.

Neelix was dressed equally as colorfully as the helmsman, but since he always did, it was less noteworthy than Tom's garb. The eyepatch the stocky alien sported proudly, however, was a clear indication he had allowed the helmsman's attitude to influence him. Seven frowned. It was not wise to limit the Talaxian's depth perception merely for the sake of appearance. She would certainly speak to him if the team leader did not. There was no way that she would allow a small detail like that to place the mission at risk. Or its members.

Neither of the men had seemed particularly surprised when the word came down that Janeway was taking over as team leader, but Lt. Ara had shot a sharp look at the Borg, and muttered something to the effect that the mission had just became a whole lot more difficult to carry out. Since Seven totally agreed with her, she couldn't muster any sort of objection to the woman's slightly sarcastic murmur. She glanced at the quiet brunette and offered a brief smile, blinking when she got a cool, almost cold look in response. That was not something that occurred with Seven often, particularly since she had married the captain. In truth, people had become a lot more comfortable with her, and when she offered a smile at them, she occasionally received surprise, a tentative smile back, but never a look of such disdain. This took her back abruptly to those early days when the main emotions she sensed from others were dislike and fear.

Seven reconsidered her assumption. In truth, it was not so much dislike she was sensing as much as antipathy, as if Seven held no importance whatsoever to Ara. Seven breathed slowly, intrigued by the anger which had risen within her. The look, she allowed, was very similar to how she, herself, had often looked at others in the beginning. She began to get a glimmering of why she had inspired such annoyance in the past, particularly from B'Elanna.

The cold gaze had also been dismissive, as if the Borg did not matter, that Seven as a living entity barely existed. There was a corresponding surge within Seven to prove that yes, she did matter, that she was important indeed, and she would show this Ara person exactly what she was made of. Seven was intrigued by this inner determination which had so unexpectantly appeared within her, and she contemplated it carefully. She remembered that Janeway had described similar feelings while growing up, that the emotions were part of what drove her to be as perfect a Starfleet officer as she could be.

Perfection was something Seven appreciated in all its forms, and she realized that perhaps she and Kathryn were more alike that she had previously allowed. She wondered if the Borg's cold expressions had indeed, somehow caused Janeway to react more strongly to Seven in the beginning than perhaps she otherwise would have. Seven felt amused. If so, then she was glad she had come on board with such an arrogant and presumptuous expression. However, that did not explain why Ara had reacted to Seven with it.

It was a mystery, and very little remained mysterious to Seven for long. She was too adept at solving puzzles ... even if it required 'cheating' at times.

She turned her head as the door opened, her heart thumping a bit faster as the captain entered. Janeway appeared even more petite in the combat outfit, like a child playing at being a soldier, but of course, no child could radiate the sort of presence and authority that the captain could simply by entering the room. Her dark grey eyes swept the away team, seeming to falter briefly as she took in Seven's newly scared appearance, then raked Tom Paris's colorful garb.

"Mr. Paris?" she noted silkily, with dangerously hooded eyes.

He tilted his head. "Traditional pirate wear," he tried, offering her a weak smile.

"For a holo-program perhaps," she responded. "Tone it down."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Aye, Captain," he said, before he went over to the replicator to redo his outfit.

She did not speak to Neelix. She simply reached up and gently took off his eyepatch, tossing it casually onto the nearest biobed.

She paused in front of Ara, looking her up and down. The ex-Maquis was dressed in a simple brown tunic over black trousers. She appeared weary, beaten, and Seven could see Janeway frown.

"Tuvok tells me he has the utmost confidence in you," the captain said in the sort of tone that indicated she wasn't exactly agreeing with that assessment.

"Aye, ma'am," Ara said in a defeated tone.

Seven wasn't entirely sure what happened next. Ara made a move, and Janeway was bent backwards over the nearest biobed even as the Borg was responding belatedly, her left hand shooting out to intercept the woman's wrist, preventing the keen tip of a blade pressing gently against the captain's throat from going any further. For a few seconds, nobody moved, everything frozen as if held in stasis, then Seven pushed the other female back, away from the captain, surprised when it was not as easy as she anticipated it would be. It wasn't that the woman massed more than was apparent, it was just that she had a way of moving her body which made it difficult to toss her off balance.

Shaken, Janeway regained her composure, straightening.

Ara held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know," she said, and now her voice was confident, much harder. "I was way out of line, Captain, but you underestimated me, which you probably can't afford to do on this mission. I could have spent hours explaining why, but a demonstration was a hell of a lot quicker."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Efficient," she said with a note of approval.

Janeway rubbed her neck, frowning at the woman. "I would have appreciated a less dramatic demonstration," she said, apparently deciding to let it go. This time.

"I apologize, Captain," Ara responded evenly

Janeway glared, then a grudging grin curled her lips. "Accepted," she said. She nodded. "Point taken, Lieutenant. I won't make the same mistake again, and I suspect, neither will the nomads. Use the advantage of surprise wisely."

"I always do, ma'am," the thin woman said respectfully.

The Doctor, who had been observing this with an appalled expression on his face, cleared his throat. "If we're all done baring our teeth at each other," he said with disapproval, "can we get back to creating your disguise?"

"Sorry, Doctor," Janeway said, not sounding particularly apologetic at all. "Do your best."

When the Doctor had finished, Seven couldn't put her finger on what exactly he had done, but whatever it was impressed her no end. Janeway suddenly appeared far harder and older than she had been, grey strands streaking the soft auburn hair which was combed straight back over her head, and the crinkles around the her mouth and eyes were deeper, furrows etched into her flesh which had been darkened, as if she had been exposed to ultraviolet radiation for a long period of time. There was a tiny scar disfiguring the previously clean line of her eyebrow, making it look perpetually arched, and somehow, her nose appeared slightly crooked, as if it had been broken and improperly set sometime in the past.

The captain regarded her reflection in the glass, tilting her head slightly.

"Nicely done, Doctor," she said approvingly. "Perhaps your true talents lie in the theater."

"I have my hands full with a crew who wants to play pirate," he said, sniffing briefly.

She flashed him a grin. "Comes with the territory," she told him.

The hiss of the door heralded the arrival of Chakotay who took in the sight of the away team with an impassive expression. His gaze lingered on Paris who had changed into a darker shirt and trousers, exchanging the bright red vest and sash for a far more subdued tunic. He still had his earring however.

"I knew you wouldn't get away with it," the first officer noted.

Paris's eyes narrowed. "I'll owe you the rations when I get back," he muttered.

Chakotay grinned a bit and looked at the captain.

"The Delta Flyer has been prepped and re-christened for the duration of this mission as the Jolly Roger," he said. He moved closer and lowered his voice though Seven could still hear him. The pair moved over to a more discreet part of the sickbay. "Are you sure about this?"

"The decision is final," Janeway said flatly. Then she softened, and lay her hand on his forearm. "Take care of Voyager, Commander. It will only be a month."

"Famous last words," the first officer grumbled.

Janeway shot him a mischievous look before turning her attention back on her group, taking a deep breath as she prepared to address them.

"We will be lifting off at 1100 hours, and after the second phase of Operation Blackbeard goes into effect, we will no longer be in contact with the ship until the mission is complete. Our objective is to determine who and what, if anything, is organizing the nomads in this area, and increasing their aggressiveness. We shall meet on the hanger deck at 1045 hours. If there are any last minute details you have to go over, now's the time. Questions?"

The team glanced at each other, but didn't speak. Janeway nodded.

"I'll see you all in the hanger deck," she concluded.

Seven lowered her head and headed for the door with the others, pausing as she heard a quiet 'Seven' murmured from the direction of the captain. She waited until the rest had left, and the Doctor had drifted into his office with Sek, his holographic medical assistant, obviously not wanting to be privy to this conversation between the couple.

"Captain," Seven said politely, with no voice inflection whatsoever.

Janeway moved closer until she was only a mere breath away. "I can't order you not to be angry with me," she said softly. "But don't let it affect your performance as an officer."

"I will not, Captain," Seven replied stiffly. "I do not allow personal preferences to interfere with professional purposes."

She saw the shade of hurt cross Janeway's eyes, though it never changed her face at all and the younger woman instantly melted. It occurred to her that the phrase the Borg used so incessantly "Resistance is futile" should actually have been applied to this single, human female. It took so little for this ex-drone to cave in, she thought with disgruntlement.

"Kathryn," she said with a sigh. "I simply wish for you to be safe. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"Not at all," Janeway responded quietly. "In fact, that's my reasoning about not wanting you to go, remember? I can't keep you safe, Annika, and you can't keep me safe, so we'll just have to be endangered together."

Seven looked away, still not happy but realizing this was simply not an argument she was going to win, no matter what she did. Therefore, it made little sense to continue to show her displeasure with the captain. She exhaled audibly and bent her head, staring at the deck.

"You will listen when I tell you a plan of action is risky?" she asked hopefully.

Janeway smiled faintly and reached up, resting her hand warmly on the Borg's neck, squeezing it gently.

"If you'll listen when I tell you that I have to do it anyway," she returned.

Seven glanced sideways at her. "You are a most difficult person to be involved with," she said in an aggrieved tone.

Janeway tilted her head. "But you love me anyway," she countered.

Seven frowned, couldn't hold it. "Yes," she said, her face abruptly soft. "Completely."

Janeway flashed her one of those crooked grins and together, the pair of them left sickbay.

The soft beeps and chirps of the Delta Flyer surrounded her as Janeway found her seat aft of the cockpit. She took a quick glance around, seeing that her people were all in place, then nodded at Paris who turned back to his board, initiating the launch sequence. Through the front transparencies, the captain watched as the white expanse of inner hull spun away, Paris lifting the vessel off the pad and revolving it in place until the large hanger exit came into view. The shuttle moved forward, a line of black appearing in the center of the great doors which slowly began to part, the bright sparks of stars beckoning in the deep backdrop of black velvet.

The sound of the decompression claxon muted and died out as the atmosphere left the hanger, and the force field framing the door came down, allowing the tiny ship clearance to leap into the awaiting night. Janeway felt a combination of nervousness and excitement flutter through her as the Delta Flyer finally left the confines of her mother ship, and took up its position fore of the teardrop saucer, initiating the first stage of Operation Blackbeard.

The intent was for the two vessels to travel through the sector, the Delta Flyer a short distance ahead of Voyager. When a pirate vessel was detected ... presuming Voyager's long range sensors were far more sensitive than the pirates ... they would go into their 'act'. Voyager would appear to be pursuing the small vessel, there would be an exchange of phaser fire, and with hopefully convincing skill, the Delta Flyer would somehow disable the larger starship enough so that they could 'escape'. Janeway didn't know how long it would take to come up with something using this 'bait', but she hoped the situation would progress quickly ... she hated waiting around for things to happen.

The captain settled into her seat at the science station as the mock pursuit began, the ships maintaining a steady cruising speed of warp five. Time seemed to stretch interminably, and she wondered how long they would have to wait for a nibble. Or if she would fidget her way out through the hull before then. The tiny vessel's walls began to close in on her, and she forced herself to breathe slowly, not allowing any of her apprehension to seep through her command shell.

She started abruptly as the comm system chirped.

"Voyager to Janeway," Chakotay's voice said. "We have contact. Initiating stage two of Operation Blackbeard."

That would be the last communication sent, neither vessel wanting to risk that their intended prey might be monitoring the subspace channels as it came into range.

Immediately, she leaned forward, her eyes were fixed on the tiny viewscreen in front of her. In order to make this look as real as possible, Tuvok would be guiding Voyager's attempt to 'capture' the Delta Flyer. Around her, she felt the anticipation swell in the tiny vessel.

"Report," she requested briskly, fingers brushing over the touch pad as she drew up the readings of the Delta Flyer.

"Sensors are picking up a warp signature," Seven said precisely from the ops station. "It is similar to the nomad vessels we have encountered before."

"Go to warp six," Janeway said crisply.

"Warp six, aye," Tom replied smartly, the immediate acceleration pressing them back into their seats.

"Readying phasers," Ara said professionally from her place at tactical.

"Lieutenant," Janeway said, glancing over at her, hoping her voice did not carry the edge she was feeling. "Be very precise."

The quiet woman hesitated, then dipped her head. "Understood, Captain," she said crisply.

Janeway watched as Voyager initiated the evasive pattern that Chakotay and Tom had devised earlier, a dance between the vessels where they zigged and zagged impressively, and from the bottom side of the ship, bright beams of ruby light lanced out, narrowly missing the tiny vessel ahead of it. The captain concentrated on her board and tried not to flinch every time a shot seemed destined to intersect with the Delta Flyer before it darted out of the way. Despite knowing every move was carefully pre-planned, it did not help her stomach at all.

"Voyager is returning fire," Ara noted.

"Shield failure is imminent," Seven related calmly. "On my mark."

Janeway's hands moved lightly over the board even as her shoulders tensed.

"Mark," Seven said.

On the viewscreen, Janeway watched the phaser burst from the Delta Flyer cut through the larger ship's shields to impact on Voyager's hull in precisely the spot they had designated. The Intrepid-class starship immediately dropped out of warp at the exact second the phaser beam struck, disappearing from their sensors. She knew that there should have been a fairly impressive explosion of debris and escaping atmosphere from the manufactured hull breech, and noted that it would take some time to set this up again if it turned out that sensor reading had been wrong.

Of course, anyone monitoring this would assume that Voyager had just suffered some sort of structural damage which made them break off pursuit. At this point, Paris would lay in a series of evasive maneuvers which would cross and re-cross their warp signature, and then the tiny vessel would take off on another course altogether, coincidently in the very direction of the nomad vessel which theoretically would have been watching all this.

Janeway leaned back in her chair, satisfied with the situation so far. Voyager would now spend an hour or so at station keeping 'making repairs' then go after the Delta Flyer, tracking two 'false trails' before finally resuming course to the Alpha Quadrant. A few light years away from here, there was a nebula where Voyager would disappear, and where the Delta Flyer ... assuming everything went according to plan ... would rendezvous with them in exactly a month, which was the limit she, Tuvok and Chakotay had agreed would be the amount of time they could afford to pursue this.

She took a breath and deliberately put all thoughts of Voyager out of her mind. There was only the mission now, and for it to be successful, she needed to give it her full concentration. From here on out, she was Captain 'Grace O'Malley'; having accepted a code name in the event that the reputation of Kathryn Janeway and certain of her crew had preceded Voyager's appearance in this area of space. She hoped the rest would remember to refer to her by that  ... and she hoped that she would remember to respond to it when addressed by it.

She glanced down at Seven who was studiously monitoring the engineering station in front of her. The young woman had been tagged with the name of 'Ann Bonny', though the captain did not think the Borg understood why. The 'Ann' was close enough to Annika that Janeway thought she would remember to answer to it. The captain noted that the cosmetic adjustments to Seven's appearance had given the young woman a very harsh look, a constant expression of sullen, brooding anger. She looked incredibly dangerous, which ironically, made her seem exceptionally desirable.

They never did make love the night before, Janeway thought wistfully. There were two or three abortive attempts before their caresses trailed off into clinging embraces, the couple realizing finally that sex wasn't really what they necessarily wanted or needed. Instead, they ended up holding each other close, talking occasionally, but mostly just concentrating on each other, on the feel of their bodies close together, trying to imprint that sensation on their souls so that it would carry them through and bring them back to where they belonged. Seven even managed to get a little sleep, and Janeway had watched over her, cradling the blonde head against her breast, trying very hard not to imagine what could happen on the upcoming mission.

The captain eventually understood that if she was feeling that way before Seven had even left, she would never be able to make it through a month of waiting and worrying about her spouse. In the darkest hour before dawn, she made her decision. Seven would not go anywhere that Janeway could not be at her side. It was not a good command choice, she suspected, but it was the only one her heart would allow.

She stifled a yawn, the night of no sleep beginning to catch up on her. She tried to hide it, then realized that this was like a combat mission. They had no idea what lay ahead, and it behooved her to catch her sleep where she could so that fatigue would not cost her down the line.

She settled back into her seat and shot a glance at Lt. Ara ... code-named 'Mary Read' ... who was seated across from her. "Wake me in an hour, or if something happens," she murmured. She noted that the hard young woman looked at her approvingly, before nodding briefly.

Janeway closed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, allowing herself to drift off. She trusted that the rest of her team would also take naps as they needed, though she made a mental reminder to tell Seven to as well. Left to her own devices, Janeway had no doubt that the Borg would go without sleep for as long as she could. She'd make it an order if she had to.

She didn't know how long she drifted in that half conscious state of twilight, resting yet ready to come alert at an instant's notice, but when she heard the low 'captain' from the woman next to her, she opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and energized. She was gratified to know that those tricks learned during her tour of planetside combat duty during the first Cardassian war came back so easily to her. It had been years but apparently, like riding a bicycle, the body did not forget.

She straightened and wondered if anyone had even noticed that she had been napping. The look Seven shot her over her shoulder, one of bemused concern, let her know that at least one had, and she made a note to teach Seven the trick of catching catnaps on the fly as soon as possible.

"Report," she said, wrinkling her nose at the sour taste in her mouth as she got up and went to the front part of the cockpit. She needed some liquid soon. Coffee, preferably.

"That nomad ship has been playing hide and seek," Paris said as she leaned over his shoulder, studying his readouts. "We've been ignoring them but he's back there, staying just within our long range sensors though he ducks in and out of whatever dust clouds there are."

Janeway nodded. "Sizing us up," she said calmly. "Are we friend or foe?"

"What if he decides we're 'foe', Captain," Neelix asked, a little worriedly.

Janeway's jaw twitched. "We're pirates, Neelix," she said flatly. "If he attacks, we'll take his ship."

Tom glanced up at her, a sudden light in his eyes, and she stifled her grin. He looked like a kid at Christmas. "Really?"

"Well, maybe I'd let them keep their ship rather than space them," she modified to his obvious disappointment. "But they'll learn not to tangle with Captain O'Malley of the Jolly Roger, and that's the reputation we want to be putting out. Nasty, but competent."

"I'm sure it'll only take one lesson," Tom noted, turning back to his board with a wide grin.

She rolled her eyes slightly and looked back at the others. "People, stay on your toes, but I also want you to be aware that there's no way of knowing when the next meal or chance for sleep will come up. If you have the opportunity for down time, take it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Understood, Captain," Neelix said. He looked around. "Does this vessel have a galley?"

Tom swallowed his grin. "No," he said with a decided touch of relief in his voice. "We're limited to emergency rations, and what the replicator can provide."

"I will program the nutritional supplements," Seven offered, and Janeway had to swallow her initial response. She didn't think the rest were aware of it, but Seven was quite the chef, far better than their Talaxian cook, though the captain was not anxious to have that known to many people. Otherwise the couple would be besieged with dinner guests. They already had Chakotay showing up for dinner once a week, regular as clockwork, while B'Elanna came by for lunch every off day that coincided with theirs. Even Tuvok made a point of finagling invitations every fortnight in his very logical, Vulcan way.

Janeway was going to have to figure out a way around Seven's generous offer.

"They're making their move," Ara said suddenly. "On an approach vector of mark one, one seven."

"Take your stations," Janeway said, making her way back to her post. "Let's not get anxious. Maybe they just want to parlay."

Almost before the words had left her mouth, the ship rocked and she fell the rest of the way into her seat, landing with an expulsion of breath.

"They're firing weapons," Ara offered, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Evasive maneuvers," Janeway barked, bringing up a schematic which showed both vessels as two tiny blips of light, the nomad in red, her Delta Flyer in green. "Return fire."

Competently, her team set to work, Paris throwing the ship into an amazing set of evading courses that must have astounded the enemy. Janeway realized that the helmsman was truly in his element, and while the grin on his face as he flew was perhaps not proper in such a situation, she felt she understood it. Impassively, Seven monitored the engines, maintaining a close check on the power output, while a professional Ara readied the phasers and acquired a lock on the pursuing vessel. Neelix, sitting just aft of Tom, grabbed the arms of his chair and grimly hung on, his gold spots standing out even more from the suddenly pale skin beneath.

"Firing," Ara barked. "Direct hit on their propulsion array. They're dropping out of warp."

"Circle back, Tom," Janeway said crisply. "Let's find out what we've netted."

The alien bar was dingy and not well lit, the atmosphere filled with a thick, dank smoke from a variety of illicit dream sticks puffed on by a wide range of species. Seven's eyes watered, and she had to blink away tears as a particularly pungent cloud drifted into the booth where she, Janeway and Neelix were sitting, waiting for their contact to arrive.

The ship which attacked them had fallen easily to the Delta Flyer's superior technology, and the family group of nomads had been so grateful to keep their vessel, they were glad to share what they knew of other nomad families banding together though it wasn't much. The most Janeway managed to get out of them ... using every bit of subtle, experienced interrogation technique she was capable of ... was that possibly if 'Captain O'Malley' went to a certain system, she might find out more. It contained a small red star, on the fringes of a dust cloud, somewhat off the beaten path of the sector's main transport routes. On a small space station orbiting the fifth planet where it was rumored that assorted nomad traders made port occasionally, they discovered this bar. Supposedly deals of a less than auspicious nature could be made here amid the grungy booths and tables ... not just by nomads, but by every illicit trader in the sector. The Federation crew had been coming here daily for the last two weeks, making pointed comments to the various patrons even as they tried to maintain a low profile.

Seven glanced around, noting the various species represented, recognized at least ten which had been encountered before by the Borg ... in an alien penal facility where she had gone in to rescue her partner. There was even a Barellan tending bar, and she eyed him briefly, wondering if he knew whatever happened with his home system's infamous prison.

"Do you think this is the right place?" Neelix asked, somewhat nervously as he glanced around at the rough looking individuals. His hands cupped a mug of some vile brew, and Seven had yet to touch hers which sat in front of her, the fluid green and oily, completely unappealing. "Perhaps it's time to move on."

"The nomads believed that if we wanted to join up with 'that bunch', this was the place to start," Janeway said calmly. "They didn't know why the particular families were suddenly affiliating, but they thought we could make a more concrete contact here. In any event, it's our only lead."

Neelix subsided, but he did not look any more comfortable about being in this place. Seven wondered if perhaps it would have been best if the Talaxian had been left with the Delta Flyer.  It was docked at the outermost ring of the station, and Paris had remained behind to keep an eye on it. The Voyager task force had alternated teams, having no intention of leaving their vessel unattended at this station. Lt. Ara, in the meantime, was off doing something unfathomable at the captain's request. Seven did not understand why the security officer would have been sent out with no accompaniment, but clearly the captain had developed a confidence in the young woman's ability to carry out the mission. The Borg wondered if she liked that and then, wasn't sure why she was even thinking about it. Why should it bother her if the captain was sending Ara on errands?  Seven's place was by Kathryn's side, and that's exactly where she was.

"There," Janeway noted in a low voice, alerting the other two. The captain was sitting with her back to the wall, having a full view of the room.

Carefully, Seven glanced behind her, watching as an alien wound his way through the crowd of people toward their table. He was rotund, with odd streaks of tan radiating from the point between his eyes and back over his forehead. His garments were a grab bag of shiny baubles and ragged leathers, but he seemed fairly benevolent. Still, she remained alert, ready to protect her spouse at the slightest hint of antagonism.

"O'Malley?" the alien wheezed through tendrils dangling from his mouth.

"That's me," Janeway said evenly, leaning casually back in her chair. "Are you Phestus?"

"Guilty," he said, taking a seat in the remaining empty chair, shouldering Neelix aside somewhat.

Seven's eyes narrowed and she kept a focus on his hands. All four of them.

He spread out the top two expansively, the bottom pair resting easily on the table. "I understand you're looking for a way into the Alliance," he said.

Janeway's eyebrow flickered. "Alliance?" she said with feigned surprise. "I was just curious if a person could acquire some assistance if one was to ... say, interfere with a certain Cirrellian transport carrying a load of engineering parts to Tellus Four."

His tendrils fluttered as an odd huff came out of him, and Seven realized belatedly that he was laughing.

"You are ambitious, O'Malley, I'll grant you that," he said. He eyed her, suddenly wary. "But then, I also heard you took on that Voyager vessel which has been plaguing this sector. They've caused us a lot of trouble. How the hell did you get away?" His small black eyes were suspicious.

Janeway smiled slightly, a grin of confidence and just the right amount of cockiness. "I have a really good man at the helm," she said. "That advantage allowed us to run very far, very fast."

"Guess that makes you a coward ... running, I mean," he said pointedly.

She did not change expression. "I'm still here," she pointed out lazily. "Those that don't run when they're outmatched aren't around to argue about it."

He stared at her a few seconds more, then laughed again, a harsh bark. "Smart call," he agreed with approval. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "What would you say if I told you our running days were over?"

Janeway did not shift position, and Seven realized that the captain was acting now exactly like she did when she was fishing ... a sport the couple enjoyed engaging in whenever possible. The captain was very still, very patient, yet ready to haul in her catch at an instant's notice. The Borg was impressed.

"I would say," Janeway offered gently, "Tell me more."

She had tossed the line in, now she waited for the bite.

He hesitated, then lowered his head. "There's a man among us, one who thinks if we stop fighting amongst ourselves and start organizing, we can go after bigger prizes."

Janeway seemed to consider it a moment. "That's an idea," she said cautiously, playing out the reel. "But won't that also attract bigger attention ... from planetary war fleets?"

He nodded. "That's good, O'Malley," he said. "You're thinking. A lot of us don't seem to be able to look beyond the hull of our ships."

She ignored the implied compliment, taking a sip from her mug as Seven tried not to wince, and carefully set it down. "This ... 'new player' does?"

"Oh yeah," Phestus muttered. He glanced around covertly. "Kasha knows that only by sticking together can we live the way we should."

"Kasha?" Janeway echoed. "Sounds V'Elanon."

She had him hooked, Seven saw. Now it was just a matter of pulling him into the boat.

"Those fanatics?" Phestus snorted. "No, Kasha's not V'Elanon. Don't know what species he hails from, but he knows what he's doing."

"Glad to hear it," Janeway said. She paused. "What is he doing?"

"He's gathering the best ships and captains among us to unify us," Phestus said and now his voice had changed, became oddly proud and defiant ... or a bit fanatical itself. Obviously, Seven decided, this Phestus was a true believer in the 'cause' of this Kasha. "Once we have all the supplies we need, we'll take what has been stolen from us."

"Which is?" Janeway asked.

"Our homes, our right to go where we please without harassment," he responded, looking at her with astonishment. "How could you have forgotten? You wouldn't be here if you had a place in your own society."

"Maybe I just got lost," Janeway quipped. She held up her hand. "Sorry, I'm just looking for someone to help me tackle a freighter. I don't want to get involved with a rebellion." She looked at Seven and Neelix, nodding briefly. "Let's go."

Obediently, Seven got up as did the Talaxian, and without speaking, they followed their captain out of the bar, leaving behind a glowering Phestus. Seven was startled, and once they had exited onto the promenade, she moved to Janeway's side.

"I do not understand," she said in a low voice.

Neelix nodded. "I have to agree, Captain," he said, frowning. "It sounded like this Kasha fellow is who we wanted to find out about."

"Oh, we do," Janeway said easily. "If I had leaped in eagerly, however, he'd know something was up. I'm just a pirate out to make a living, and if I had reacted in any other manner, Phestus probably would have killed us."

Seven stared at her. "How do you know?" she said.

"Didn't you see the disruptor his companion was aiming at us?" Janeway asked, eyeing her.

Seven felt sick. "What companion?" she said. Kathryn had been at risk and she had not even known?

"The one at the bar who pointed us out to him," Janeway said. "No, this Kasha doesn't want volunteers. At least, not like that. He wants to know exactly how he can buy me and that I'm practical about the kind of deals I make. Somehow I suspect, we'll be seeing Phestus again. Or someone like him."

Seven shook her head. "I still do not understand how you would come to that conclusion," she said, feeling quite inept.

Janeway reached out and patted her briefly on the small of her back. "Experience," she reminded her. "I have done this before."

They crossed out of the promenade and into the docking ring. Here, the traffic was lighter, and the large loading bays were dotted by stacks of containers and barrels, cargo intended for some unknown destination. This area was designated for the large freighters, and the Voyager crew had an extensive expanse of deck to cross before they reached the section where the smaller, privately owned vessels were kept. As they walked across the echoing docking ring, Seven spotted movement in the shadows of the cargo ahead of them.

"Captain?"

"I see them," Janeway said quietly. She reached down, putting her hand on the phaser attached to her hip. "Be ready, people."

There were six of them, coming out from various places in the piles of containers ... all large, all quite nasty.

Janeway stopped as did Seven and Neelix.

"Gentlemen," Janeway greeted evenly. "Problem?"

"You've been asking questions," a stocky individual said. "The boss don't like questions."

"Then we'll stop," Janeway responded. "We're just looking for some help on a job, that's all."

"This is Kasha's territory," he said. "Only jobs to be done are what he gives out."

Janeway nodded. "Ah, so rather than having to answer to the planets, we have to answer to him," she said snidely. "I'm not impressed."

"Then you'll be dead," he said. He motioned. "Get 'em."

"'Ann'," Janeway warned. "Be gentle."

Seven tried not to roll her eyes as she intercepted the first aggressor, not wasting time as she straight-armed him into a stack of containers which toppled impressively. The second she dispatched with back handed blow from her mesh covered left hand, and the third, she grabbed by the front of his shirt and his belt, heaving him up in the air and tossing him across the deck into the fourth and fifth attacker, knocking them all down into a heap.

This all happened very quickly, in a matter of split seconds, and before the leader of the thugs had quite known what was going on, he was the only one left standing, eyes rimmed with white as he stared into the drawn phasers of Janeway and Neelix.

"We don't want any trouble," Janeway told him. "However, we will be the ones to end it if necessary. Tell that to this Kasha fellow."

She fired between his feet, the ruby beam set to a level which cut a rather impressive, smoking line along the deck. He stared at her a moment more and then, as the rest of his men staggered to their feet, helped up by the others who weren't in much better shape, he nodded shortly, and turned away.

They melted back into the shadows, and Seven waited until Janeway and Neelix had joined her.

"The second test," Janeway said cooly, looking after their retreating figures.  "Now he knows we can handle ourselves in a fight."

"Was that 'gentle' enough?" Seven asked.

Janeway flashed her a tight grin. "There were broken bones," she noted critically. "I heard the snaps from where I was standing."

Neelix goggled at her. "Seven, I didn't know you were so ... strong," he said.

"I am Borg," Seven responded, and left it at that.

She was even more alert now, and constantly looked around as they finished their journey back to their ship. Paris was waiting anxiously, wanting to know what had taken so long, then cursed as Neelix filled him in on all he had missed.

"I've been going to that dive for two weeks and nothing," the helmsman said. "Now, when it's my turn to stay with the ship, everything happens."

"You'll have your chance, Tom," Janeway said, patting him indulgently on the shoulder.

Seven took a breath and sat down at her board. She was a little shaky, aware that she had done exactly what she was supposed to do, but still not happy about it. Kathryn had been threatened. The only way to make sure the same threat would not occur was to remove those that had endangered her. Leaving them alive was inefficient. She understood that it was the Federation way, that it was the Starfleet way, but sometimes, those behavioral patterns baffled her.

Janeway went to the board as it chirped, indicating an incoming message. It was from Ara, and Seven tried to figure out where the woman was from the background behind her serious features.

"I have the merchandise, Captain," the ex-Maquis said. "But I'll need help to get it back to the ship."

"Understood," Janeway said crisply. "I'm sending Tom and Neelix to help you. Stay where you are."

"I'm in section 5G," Ara said. She looked around. "Across from some kind of restaurant called the Final Nebula. You can't miss the smell."

"We're on our way," Tom said. He glanced at Janeway, and the captain nodded.

"Be careful," she said.

"We will, Captain," Neelix responded. The two men exited the Delta Flyer, leaving Janeway and Seven to hold the ship in their absence.

Seven glanced at the captain who had taken a seat in the pilot's chair, and was looking through the transparencies into the small docking bay, her eyes following her two crewmen until they were out of sight.

"I do not understand," Seven said, moving up behind her, leaning over her shoulder slightly. "What is this 'merchandise'?"

"I heard that a certain, powerful nomad was looking to acquire a plasma injector," the captain told her idly. "I wanted to get there first."

"In the event that Kasha was that pirate?" Seven said. "But what if he is not?"

"Then I'll have an extra plasma injector," Janeway said with a slight grin, shrugging lightly. "But if it is Kasha, losing that part to me will make him take even more notice of us. We want him to know we're around, and rich enough to outbid him ... at least with small items."

"Rich?"

"Convertible currency means that we're successful pirates, Seven," Janeway explained. "I think he wants successful pirates in his organization."

"He will ask us to join him, rather than continue to work at cross purposes with us," Seven guessed.

"That's the theory, anyway," Janeway said, nodding.

They were silent then, and suddenly, it was almost as if they became aware of their solitude at the same time, that this was the first time in two weeks they had been alone together, glancing at each other involuntarily.

"Oh my," Janeway said, smiling briefly.

Seven took a breath. "Is this a matter of having an opportunity for 'down time'?" she asked hopefully.

Janeway looked away, her cheeks turning a bit rosy. "We need to monitor the area around the Delta Flyer," she said in a rather prim tone. "That's the whole point to leaving at least one crewmember on the ship at all times."

"I can set the computer to alert us if anyone or anything approaches within one hundred meters," Seven offered. "Then we could monitor it from the aft compartment."

Janeway considered it for a moment, looking at her partner with soft eyes.

"I suppose we could," she allowed finally. "If you make it two hundred meters. I want plenty of warning if anyone approaches the ship while we're ... indisposed."

Seven dipped her head, her eyes growing dark.

"I will comply."

The fold down bunks in the aft compartment were narrow and uncomfortable, barely functional for sleeping, let alone lovemaking. Janeway brought one down, looking the situation over with a frown as she wondered how the hell they were going to manage this. She slipped out of her vest, glancing up as Seven entered the compartment.

"The alarm is set," Seven said quietly, unfastening her own vest as she regarded her spouse. "I have missed you."

Janeway grinned crookedly. "I thought you wanted to spend an entire month without me?" she reminded her playfully, dropping her vest onto the deck.

"I must have been malfunctioning," Seven murmured, smiling faintly as she wrapped Janeway up in her arms.

Janeway snuggled into the embrace, feeling as if she had come home. For the past weeks, they had slept ... the few times they had slept at the same time ... in opposing bunks, being able to share only a look before they settled in, at most, a whispered 'I love you', the briefest of touches in passing. They hadn't even been able to kiss, and the sensation of Seven's lips on her own was like a flame touched to a wick, setting her ablaze. Janeway made a soft sound in her throat, hugging her partner tightly. The captain could certainly not fault her crewmember for her professionalism, but the woman had missed Seven so much that she could only imagine how bad it would have been remaining on Voyager without her at all.

"Wait," she murmured as Seven started to tug her sweater over her head. "We can't get undressed. Not fully. I don't know how much time we have."

"I understand," Seven whispered, running her hands up underneath the sweater as she pressed the captain down onto the narrow bunk. "Though I have never done it with haste. I thought such an approach was considered less than desirable."

"Oh, it is," Janeway said huskily, breathing harshly as they huddled together on the thin sleeping pad. "Most of the time. Every once in a while, however, it can be fast and furious and still be wonderful."

"Ah," Seven said. The captain arched as the Borg pulled the sweater up enough to bare the small firm mounds, falling on them as if ravenous.

Well, it has been two weeks, Janeway thought deliriously, feeling those wonderful lips nuzzle at her breasts, the tongue swirling around the nipples, skilled, experienced ... knowing exactly how to stimulate her. No one else in her history could make her react so quickly, so overwhelmingly. She whimpered, the pleasure surging through her, then she gasped as she felt Seven's hands slide under the waistband of her trousers, pushing them down over her hips, the air cool on her thighs.

"Oh god, Annika," she breathed as Seven's fingers dipped into her wetness, rubbing over the hard little ridge, strong, then gentle, then strong again. She didn't know where the Borg had learned that trick but it was getting the job done in double time, sending chills through her, rising, then falling, and suddenly, two long fingers were slipping into her, curling up to find the spot, pressing insistently, so firm, so quick ... so sweet. She cried out when she climaxed, pulsating hard around the loving fingers, amazed at how very ... efficient Seven had been. When Janeway demanded quick, then by god, that was what her partner gave her.

"Damn, you're good," the captain murmured, relaxing as the last of the shudders eased.

Seven kissed her gently, sweetly. "It is not as much fun this way," she said, "but it is acceptable."

Janeway returned the kiss, worming her hands under her partner's sweater, grasping handfuls of soft flesh, squeezing gently in that way she knew Seven liked to be caressed. Seven made a gentle sound, one of protest and bemused, Janeway regarded her, frowning slightly.

"Annika?"

"I cannot, Kathryn," Seven said sadly. "Not like this. Not here."

Janeway hesitated, then withdrew her hands and adjusted her clothes, pulling her pants back up, smoothing down her sweater. Then she wrapped her arms around her partner's neck and hugged her close.

"I understand, darling," she said gently, kissing her gently. "I'm sorry."

Seven shook her head. "It is not necessary to apologize," she said. "I enjoy being with you no matter what we do."

"I love you," Janeway whispered. "So much."

Seven brushed her lips over her forehead. "I love you too."

Gently, Janeway kissed her, then deepened the kiss, drawing the woman's breath into her, exploring her mouth sweetly as her hand moved from the Borg's neck to slip under Seven's shirt once more.

"Kathryn?" Seven murmured uncertainly when she was able to break away.

"It's all right, love," Janeway soothed, stroking her gently under her clothes. "I just want to touch your skin, that's all. I accept you're not in the mood."

"Very well," Seven replied, barely audible as she settled into her partner's arms.

Janeway kissed her again, gently, softly, and began to gently run her nails over Seven's back, scratching lightly. The Borg sighed and abruptly relaxed, wiggling slightly in pleasure.

"I like this," she muttered.

Janeway smiled. "I know, my darling," she said.

The captain had always believed she had been a respectable lover, but it wasn't until Seven that she had learned to really pay attention to the other person's responses. It had taken time, but now she knew how to focus on her spouse's wants and needs, how to find a way to please her and when one way didn't work, she wasn't hesitant about trying another. Nor, did it always have to be sexual. Having her back scratched was something that Seven adored without reservation, and Janeway was shamefully aware that she didn't indulge this desire of her partner's enough. It could be tedious for the person providing the strokes, but for the young woman receiving the attention, it was sheer bliss.

Seven buried her face into Janeway's neck, snuggling against her, and the captain nuzzled the blonde hair, holding her close as she scratched and scratched until it was even enough for the Borg who was more than glad to luxuriate under this particular caress far longer than the average human.

"Thank you, Kathryn," Seven whispered finally, drawing back a little.

Janeway altered her caress, using the flat of her hand to slide over the inflamed back, soothing the skin.

"You're welcome, my love," she murmured quietly. "I'm sorry I don't remember to do this more often for you."

"I know I can always ask," Seven assured her. She hesitated. "I am glad you decided to become team leader."

Janeway quirked her eyebrow. "Indeed?"

Seven lowered her eyes. "Yes," she admitted. "I know I was not pleased in the beginning, and truthfully, your safety still concerns me, but I try to imagine you not being here, you wondering how I am and in turn, my wondering how you are ... it would have been unacceptable. You made the right decision."

Janeway smiled. "I'm glad you finally agree," she said.

Seven hugged her. "I am distressed that I missed the weapon earlier," she said. "I cannot protect you if I am unaware of the threat."

"It's all right, Annika," Janeway reassured her. "I had it covered. Let's not forget, I couldn't have handled those thugs nearly as well as you did. We're all learning how to work together as a single entity. We're here to watch each other's backs ... not just you and me, but the entire team."

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said. She paused for a moment, the two women holding onto each other tightly, then added wistfully, "The others should be back soon."

Janeway sighed. "I know," she agreed. Reluctantly, she loosened her embrace. "Let's get the bunk put back where it belongs."

They stood up, straightening the sleeping pad and bedding before folding the whole thing back up into the wall so that there was only the smooth expanse of hull left to view. Janeway picked up her vest and pulled it on, then reached over and took Seven's hand in her own. The Borg looked at her in vague puzzlement as the captain brought her hand up and kissed the wrist gently, inhaling the piquant scent that lingered on the young woman's fingers.

"Wash up," Janeway said quietly. "If I can smell me on you, so can everyone else."

Seven flushed, then smiled briefly. "If you insist," she said, indicating it was not something she entirely wanted to comply with.

"I do," Janeway said, but she smiled as well.

Seven leaned over and kissed her gently, briefly capturing Janeway's bottom lip between her own before disappearing into the 'fresher. Janeway returned to the cockpit, feeling lazy and somewhat wicked as she studied the readouts. There had been no stirring on the dock during their brief interlude, and she started to worry about her people as time continued to pass. Real relief filled her as she finally saw the three crewmembers crossing the deck, Paris and Neelix bearing a container between them. Janeway unsealed the hatch, and looked keenly at Ara as she entered.

"Any problems?" she asked.

"Not at all," the taller woman said, shooting her an odd look as she went aft.

Frowning, the captain found her helmsman. "You were gone longer than I expected," the captain noted as he stored the container in the storage compartment.

Tom flashed her a grin. "Yeah, Neelix and I thought we should stop for a drink on the way back," he said carelessly. "I sure hope you and Seven took advantage of it."

Dismayed, the captain stared at her helmsman as he closed the panel and made his way back to the cockpit. So that was why Ara looked at her so strangely, Janeway decided. The ex-Maquis probably thought the captain had requested that Paris and Neelix delay their return. Janeway couldn't decide if she should be angry with the men's presumption, or grateful for what was really quite a thoughtful gift. In the end, she couldn't choose and still feeling a bit bemused, she wandered into the aft compartment where the table had been pulled down from the wall in preparation for the evening meal.

With a start, the captain realized that it was Ara's rotation this night, the quiet woman programming the replicator with her selection, a Bajoran hasperat. Rather than have Seven do all the programming, Janeway had determined that it would be better if each team member took turns providing a variety from their favorite menus for the rest of the group. Seven meanwhile, at the captain's request, stuck to bland, filling meals which was exactly the impression Janeway wanted her to give.

"Was the exchange witnessed?" Janeway asked her crewmember.

Ara nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said, setting Janeway's teeth on edge.

No matter how many times she dropped the hint, Ara would not call her 'captain', only ma'am. Janeway thought that it was a subtle sort of insubordination but honestly, how could a captain get outraged by what was a perfectly acceptable form of address through the 'fleet? It was ridiculous to order a senior lieutenant to address her by a certain designation. It was one thing to impress it on a green young ensign, but by having to go that far with this woman, Janeway realized it would mean that she had lost the battle before she had even begun to fight.

"Excellent," Janeway murmured. "You did good work, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ara responded politely as she set the plates out.

Janeway gave up and returned to the cockpit. Seven and Neelix were talking about the earlier battle, Seven explaining every move to the Talaxian who listened with fascination. Even Tom was listening, though he tried not to show it as he ran a navigational diagnostic through the controls ... not because it needed it, but because if they didn't keep themselves busy, this waiting would get the better of them.

There was a brief sound on the board.

"Incoming from control central," Tom said, a definite note of excitement in his tone. "Rerouted from an unknown vessel berthed at the station."

Janeway straightened, knowing that this might be it. It had taken a while before things started happening, but now they were falling into place fast.

"Put it through," she said

Phestus's ragged features appeared on the screen.

"For someone who doesn't want trouble, O'Malley," he said without preamble. "You certainly are stirring it up."

"I have no idea what you mean," she said innocently.

"You have a piece of equipment that was destined for Kasha," he said. "He wants it."

Janeway shook her head. "I don't know anything about that," she lied. "I need that part. That's why I paid more than it was worth."

"Kasha could make it hard for you," Phestus said.

"Irrelevant," Janeway said, pushing for all she was worth. "I need the part to make repairs. If I can't leave this station, it'll be hard enough without him even bothering with us."

The alien paused, seeming to consider it. "You can get another one," Phestus said finally. "We need it now. In return, not only will we offer you a substantial profit on the part you have, we agree to pay your berth fee for however long it takes you to find another, which we will also pay for."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. It sounded as if Kasha had to be somewhere in a fairly big hurry. Would it be in her interest to delay him ... or make the first gesture of conciliation?

"How 'substantial' a profit?" she asked cautiously.

Phestus brightened. "Twenty percent," he offered.

"Seventy-five," Janeway said flatly.

"Thirty-five," he said, beginning to frown ... if indeed, that's what the twisting of those tentacles dangling from his mouth indicated.

"Sixty," Janeway countered.

There was a pause. "Forty," he said, seeming in real pain.

"Fifty," Janeway said and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "That's as low as I'll go. It's not worth it otherwise."

He glared at her, then finally acquiesced, a sharp dip of his head. "Agreed," he said. "I'll send a crew to pick it up."

"Unarmed," Janeway responded warningly. "I remember their last approach. We'll be ready this time."

"A misunderstanding," Phestus said with unconvincing gravity. "They were only supposed to inform you about this being Kasha's territory. They wouldn't have harmed you." He assumed an expression of outrage. "It wasn't necessary that you beat them up."

Janeway shrugged. "They got between me and where I wanted to go," she said with careful disdain.

He stared at her. "Kasha is impressed with you," he said finally, as if he didn't particularly agree. "He wants to meet with you after he returns from his trip."

"I may not be here," Janeway said carelessly.

Phestus did not bite. "If you want help tackling that Cirrellian freighter, you'll stick around," he said. "After all, your docking fees are being picked up by us."

Janeway hesitated. "All right," she said. "But I'm not a patient woman. How long are we talking about?"

"No more than three days," he said. He smiled insincerely. "Surely you would welcome the extra repair time."

She made a show of looking reluctant. "All right," she said.

"Fine," he responded briskly. "I'll send our people down to pick up the plasma injector."

The screen flickered as he abruptly cut the channel, and Janeway eased her chair around to look into the faces of her crew who had been eavesdropping avidly.

"And so it begins," she said quietly.

Two nights later found Janeway, Seven and Ara in the same bar where they had first made contact with Kasha's flunky. They had been making inquiries about Kasha, and since the rumor had spread that the mysterious nomad leader was considering them for his 'organization', people were a little more forthcoming, though not necessarily more helpful. Little was known about the pirate chieftain who rarely left his vessel, Kasha's Pride, and used Phestus to do most of his negotiating. Depending on who one asked, Kasha was either this dashing, handsome male humanoid with a great deal of charm and grace, particularly toward females ... or a dark, alien, very frightening, cloaked figure who's very touch could bring death.

Seven suspected neither was true, and she wondered how information could become so distorted. But then, she had been hearing the most outrageous things about the Jolly Roger's personnel while eavesdropping on brief snippets of conversation in the bar; stories of how its captain was a bit of a malicious pirate queen herself, with a brooding mechanical monster of a body guard who would destroy anyone who so much as looked at 'O'Malley' incorrectly. It had actually taken Seven some time to realize the 'monster' they were referring to was her.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Now that she understood the difference between being liked and not being liked, it gave her an odd feeling to be considered a 'monster' ... particularly when she and Kathryn were walking the promenade, and various female aliens would place their children protectively behind them as if the Borg would suddenly snatch them up and do them harm.

Seven realized it ... hurt, but she didn't know what to do about it. It suited their purpose for Seven's abilities to be feared for the sake of Kathryn's safety.

She glanced over at Janeway who was deep in conversation with Ara. She was not jealous ... not in that possessive way anymore ... but it baffled her that Janeway was showing such an interest in the woman, especially since she had shown absolutely none toward the unassuming, hard-edged lieutenant in the previous five years. It also bothered her that Janeway seemed willing to send Ara on solo forays when she would not send Seven. Did Janeway consider Ara to be more dependable? Did she trust the ex-Maquis more than she trusted Seven? The Borg felt a little sick when she considered the last possibility.

Seven knew Kathryn's interest in Ara wasn't romantic at all. It was purely a professional regard, but Seven wanted the captain to have the same respect for her than she would any of her other crew. Instead, it sometimes felt as if Janeway was more tolerant of her than respectful. Seven knew that in the past, the captain had certainly put up with behavior from the Borg that she simply wouldn't accept from others, and while in the beginning, that had made Seven feel special, now she was starting to wonder if it was not a measure of condescension on Janeway's part. Perhaps the captain did not believe Seven could conduct herself adequately on away missions in the way other members of her crew could, and therefore made allowances for her in the same way Seven made allowances for Naomi's lack of life experience.

Seven didn't know where this was coming from, but it did occur to her that this was the most unpredictable and dangerous away mission she had ever been on. Janeway had always found a way to keep her from other missions of similiar complication, or found different, yet crucial tasks for her to do. Was it possible that the captain really didn't trust her in this sort of situation? Was that the real reason the captain had decided to come along? To monitor her actions?

Seven discovered she was becoming a little angry, and she was forced to conceal her feelings as Ara nodded abruptly and got up, disappearing into the crowd. Janeway and Seven were alone once more and the Borg stared at her partner who was sipping her drink idly, the blue grey eyes sweeping the room keenly.

"Kathryn?"

"Grace," Janeway corrected quickly. "In public, I'm always Grace O'Malley."

"Yes," Seven said, depression seeping through her. Perhaps she was not capable of performing as she should, after all. "I am sorry, Captain."

The tone seemed to get through despite her attempt to hide it, and suddenly those sharp blue-grey eyes were completely focused on her.

"This isn't the time or place," Janeway said slowly. "But if there's something that can't wait, tell me now."

Seven considered it, understanding what the captain was offering. "It can wait," she said softly. "But it is hurting me."

Janeway studied her. "As soon as we're back on the ship," she promised in a gentler voice. "I hate it, but that's the best I can offer here. Do you want us to go now?"

"It can wait," Seven repeated, trying to interject a confident tone in her voice.

With an effort, she carefully contained the emotions that were swirling around her, isolating them and walling them off. It was not something she had done for a long time, but it was an accomplished skill developed when she had first been severed from the Collective, and was struggling with the unfamiliar and frightening feelings that had threatened to overwhelm her. She did it now because the mission required it, her captain needed it and her own determination to succeed demanded it.

"All right?" Janeway asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes," Seven said, and her voice was cool, controlled. Efficient.

Janeway stared at her a moment longer, searching her face, then nodded briefly, apparently willing to let it go for now.

Willing to trust her.

Suddenly, the situation with Ara became clear. Janeway didn't know the Maquis, didn't understand her ... didn't trust her ... so she kept testing her, making the test a little larger each time. Offered Ara her trust so that she would know where to stop.  Janeway trusted Seven completely, believed in her and needed the Borg at her side.

Always.

Seven let out her breath as the worry and anger abruptly eased, forming instead, a warm spot in her center where she had walled the emotions away. Suddenly, she was very proud that she had managed to resolve this herself rather than having Janeway help her understand.  Perhaps she was evolving after all.

"It does not hurt any more," she said.

Janeway looked at her oddly. "You will explain this someday," she responded finally, in confusion.

Seven nodded. "After the mission," she said.

Janeway dipped her head as well. "After," she agreed.

Seven suddenly tensed as she noted someone entering the bar. Like her partner, she had developed the habit of sitting with her back to the wall and the two women had a clear view of the taproom.

"Captain?"

"I see him," Janeway said, without pleasure. "He's back a day early."

Seven eased away from the captain's side so that she'd have a clear space in which to move if necessary as Phestus and two other of his species moved toward their table. Janeway leaned back in her chair, assuming a deliberately casual expression, looking the aliens up and down with ill concealed boredom.

"I trust your trip was ... profitable," she offered.

Without being invited, he took a chair though the other two remained on their feet. Seven wondered if she should stand as well, then decided that she did not have to. She still maintained an advantage in speed and strength despite her sitting.

"Kasha wants to meet," he said, ignoring her comment. "Right now."

Janeway hesitated, then dipped her head. "All right," she allowed. "Let me contact my vessel then Ann and I..."

"No," he interrupted. "Now. And you come alone."

"Unacceptable," Seven said immediately, before Janeway could respond.

The captain looked at her and Seven held her gaze, unmovable on this.

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "My second is correct," she told Phestus. "My crew needs to know where I am or they get ... nervous."

"This isn't a negotiation," Phestus said with a frustrated tone. He shifted and suddenly there was a gun in his hand. His companions had also drawn their weapons. "You will come with me now."

Janeway blinked in bemusement. Obviously she had not expected weapons to be used in such a blatant manner in a public place, though it was clear that every one in the bar was carefully not paying any attention to the drama being played out in the corner. Seven had not expected it either, and every muscle tensed, ready to explode into action at the slightest opportunity.

"He just wants you," Phestus insisted to the captain. "He didn't say anything about associates." He motioned with his gun. "Let's go."

Seven readied herself, then felt Janeway's hand on her knee beneath the table, squeezing warningly. She glanced at the captain and Janeway's eyes were dark as she stared back.

"Return to the ship," she said in that unmistakable tone of command. "Let the others know where I've gone."

Seven did not want to do this. She did not want to let Kathryn out of her sight for a moment, but the order was clear in Janeway's tone, and Seven knew she didn't have any choice.

"I will comply," she said between clenched teeth.

She remained in her seat as Janeway got up and left with Phestus and one of his companions. The third one waited for a while, his gun stuck in his belt, but still prominently displayed for her benefit. Finally, as if having reached a predetermined time frame, he released the butt of his gun and motioned her out of the chair. Not quite understanding, she allowed him to escort her out of the tavern. He was leading her into an alley littered with debris before she finally realized what he was intending.

As he drew his weapon, her Borg enhanced systems kicked into overdrive, and she swept the gun from his hands. His eyes widened and he opened his tentacle-framed mouth to yell when she back handed him across the alley, slamming his body into the wall before he slumped to the ground, either unconscious or dead ... she did not care which.

Seven was literally shaking with fury as she scrambled for the promenade, pulling out the communicator which had been concealed in one of her vest pockets.

"Seven to Delta Flyer," she spat. "Respond."

"Paris here," her comm badge returned in the helmsman's voice. "Go ahead."

"The captain has gone to meet Kasha," she said, feeling sick inside. "Under duress. I was detained from following. Get a lock on her signal."

"There's too much interference to get a lock while we're berthed," his worried voice returned. "Do you know where she's being taken?"

"Read to Bonny," another voice broke into the communication channel. For a moment, Seven didn't know what that meant, then she remembered the code names, realizing belatedly that she had been so upset that she had not used them when she contacted the ship. Ara was more cognitive of what was going on, and Seven felt another jolt of what might be shame if she considered it carefully.

"Proceed," she said.

"I saw the captain being escorted across the docks," the ex-Maquis informed her. "So I followed. I saw which ship she was taken to."

"Give me the location," Seven said. "I will rendezvous with you there."

"Me too," Tom said. "Neelix is going to stay with the Jolly Roger."

"Berth 20, Section 5," Ara reported. "What's interesting is that the berths on either side are empty. The station control must be catering to this guy, so take care."

"Lt. Paris," Seven said coldly. "Bring the compression rifles."

"Understood," Paris said grimly. "Jolly Roger out."

Seven cut the channel and wound her way through the crowds on the promenade, forcing herself not to rush or knock people over in her anxiousness. She heaved a sigh of relief when she finally entered the docking sector and dashed across the decks where cargo was being loaded, avoiding the various vehicles moving the containers. A check of the number painted in the large alien digits on the hull indicated she was on Section 5, but only at berth 3. She had quite a way to go and with determination, she began to sprint along the access corridor.

She found Ara crouched down behind a stack of containers, hidden in the shadows. Paris was with her, and the pair were watching the hatch of a ship which was nuzzled up to the berth. The size of the umbilical indicated it was an extremely powerful vessel.

Paris handed Seven a rifle as she joined the pair.

"Status?" she demanded.

"No sign of movement," Ara said. "Not since she went in."

"Maybe we're overreacting here," Paris suggested tersely. "After all, the captain did want to see this guy."

"No," Ara noted cooly. "He had her separated from her bodyguard. That was deliberate."

"But sometimes captains like to talk privately," Tom insisted, playing devil's advocate.

"Then leave Seven in another room," Ara pointed out. "Why make her stay behind entirely?"

"They tried to kill me," Seven said flatly. "They wanted more than for me to remain behind."

The two stared at her with horror, then Ara's jaw tightened as she looked at Paris with cold resolve. "You'd better get back to the Delta Flyer," she noted tightly. "Undock so that you can free up the sensors and the transporters. Be ready to move. They might hare out of here any time."

Seven's eyes widened. That was an obvious ... and logical ... assessment.

"I am going on board that vessel," she said abruptly, standing.

Ara yanked her back down. "How?" she asked with more logic, which was less appreciated by the young Borg. "The lock is sealed. Besides, if they are up to no good, you trying to break in may be all the excuse they need to kill her."

Seven shook her head, not agreeing. "Something has changed in their attitude," she said. "They found out something while they were gone."

"I know," Ara said. "But we can't be sure what. In any event, we'd better be ready to beam her out of there."

Seven had been studying the ship with keen eyes. "What of the cargo hatch?" she suggested. "Perhaps we can enter there."

The Bajoran studied a few seconds, her expression one of careful consideration. "That's an idea," she allowed finally. She nodded at Tom. "Get back to the ship. Seven and I will sneak on board. We'll signal when it's time to transport us all off."

"I don't remember you being put in charge," he resisted briefly.

"Just do it, Mr. Paris," Seven said flatly. "I take responsibility."

Tom glanced at her uneasily, then nodded. "Fine," he grumbled and disappeared.

Ara shot her a look, one of faint approval.

"Let's go get the captain," she remarked. Janeway felt unease feather through her as she was escorted through the corridors of the ship. This didn't feel right, and she regretted not insisting that Seven be allowed to accompany her. Despite all her greater experience and training, there was a part of her that just felt safer when the Borg was present. It was a sensation which had existed ever since she had looked up from the filthy deck of an alien prison, and saw her partner reach out to pull her into a warm, comforting and infinitely secure embrace, rescuing her from horror and pain ... returning her safely to her ship and her home.  It was not something she cared to recognize consciously, but it remained consistently strong within her.

She quirked an eyebrow as she was led into the lounge of the vessel, a lavish room decorated in what could be considered exceptionally bad taste. But then, what was she expecting from a group of pirates tasting an unexpected success ... a militaristic discipline and Spartan restraint? She noted several more nomads lounging about the room while various subdued beings waited on them with extravagant food items.  In the center of the room, on a dais, sitting in a high backed chair, a solitary masked figure brooded darkly as it waited for her approach.

All in all, Janeway thought it looked like nothing more than one of those cheesy holodeck programs, the type Tom Paris liked to run with oversized death rays and melodramatic characters. This was very real, however, and suddenly she felt a prickling along her spine, the unmistakable sensation that her very life was in danger, though she was unsure from where it originated.  She had planned to meet this pirate chieftain after all ... why was she now developing reservations?

Carefully, she swallowed, dredging up the moisture from a too dry mouth, and focused her attention on the dark figure. He ... or she ... was dressed completely in black, from the polished boots to the cloak which flowed heavy from the shoulders. A shiny ebony mask covered the features, and the captain thought that whoever was behind it, they had a very overdeveloped sense of the dramatic. Perhaps Tom had been right in the first place. Perhaps they should have also dressed like imaginary pirates rather than the rag tag nomads they were trying to emulate.

"Captain O'Malley, is it?" the figure said in a male voice.

Janeway felt her heart began to hammer in her chest though she endeavored not to show it. The voice was familiar. She couldn't place it, but whatever her memories were trying to tell her, the chill that went down her spine indicated the association was not a good one.

"You are Kasha?" she said formally, with cool control. Kasha? That name ... something about that name ... things started to gel in her mind.

Bad things.

"Of course, I'd much prefer to call you by your real name," he responded smoothly, the words a caress that skittered through her liver. "Kathryn."

Oh, this is bad, she thought.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else," she tried.

"Oh, I don't think so," he said. "Captain Kathryn Janeway, of the starship Voyager. I believe you're here to stop us, aren't you?"

She was very careful here, acutely aware of the two large aliens flanking her, the disruptors they held on her. The captain abruptly felt the vibration under her feet as the vessel powered up, the jolts as it detached from the docking port, the sensation of acceleration transmitting through the deck and up her legs, and she realized how much trouble she was really in.

"I'm just trying to do my job," she said quietly.

"You're trying to interfere," he said and his voice was cold, chilling her to the bone. The rest of the nomads around him stirred uneasily, and she was conscious of belligerent stares being directed her way. "Just like you did before."

He did know her, she thought dazedly. Though how, she didn't have a clue. The mask concealed his features and muffled his voice just enough that she couldn't identify it clearly.

"May I ask what gives you the impression we're not who we say?" she asked delicately, digging for more information.

"We both know no one 'escapes' from Voyager," he sneered. "Though I appreciate how hard you worked to give that illusion.  Of course, I saw right through it, and I did so enjoy watching you perform your little 'play' the past few weeks.  But now things are moving quickly, and I don't have time for you, or your interference, so I'm bringing this charade to an end.  I have much larger tasks to perform."

Janeway exhaled slowly. She was in trouble, the sort that could leave her dead. "Well, since you have the advantage of me," she said carefully. "Why not refresh my memory?"

He reached up and removed his mask. An angry scar ran down from the corner of his eyebrow to the corner of his jaw but she was still able to recognize the ruined features of Kashyk, late of the Devore Imperium. Though what he was doing here, light years away from the sector of space where he had threatened her and Voyager's crew as he searched her ship again and again for the telepathic refugees she had hidden, escaped her at the moment. At the time, she had played him for a fool, even as he had tried to play her, pretending an attraction for him that she did not feel, encouraging his own in return. Even now, she felt the same emotion twist her gut though her features showed only what she wanted them to show, calm impassiveness. Not the soul deep, weary disgust for having to deal with him on such a base level yet again.

"You're a long way from home," she noted.

"I have no home," he said bitterly. "Thanks to you. When Prax put in his report, he revealed everything, including how you deceived me. I was demoted and run out of the Imperium Guard."

She wanted to smile, but sensed that would not be a good idea at all. "Is that when you picked up the souvenir?" she asked politely.

That was a sore spot for him in more than one way, she noted. His face tightened, flushed, the white scar standing out even more.

"I got this when I attempted to steal a vessel so I could escape my 'demotion'," he snarled.

"Ah," she said. "Better to rule in exile than serve at home." She glanced around at the unfriendly faces. "Do they know you are exactly the kind of oppressive military fanatic they wanted to escape from by giving up their homes?"

He glared, then forced himself to relax with a visible effort. "You won't turn them against me, Janeway," he said calmly. "They believe in me. They know I am as they are, homeless, friendless and unfairly persecuted."

"And they follow you because..." she prompted.

"Because I can get them what they want," he said. "More weapons, more wealth and eventually, a home where we will be the ones to rule."

Janeway studied her nails with deliberate discourteousness. "Ruled by you, you mean," she said calmly.

"If that is my destiny," he allowed with poorly feigned modesty.

She remained carefully detached, casual even as she felt the keen edge of fear slip through her. He had been a formidable opponent when she had last faced him, needing every bit of deceitfulness and cunning she possessed. Now, the gloves were off and he would not be taken in by the illusion of her being attracted to him. Now he would recognize what had been in her eyes from the beginning ... a complete and utter loathing for a man who preyed on the helpless, and terrorized the weak in the name of his imperium. He hadn't changed, still luring others to his cause with false colors.

She could only hope Seven was now with the others on the Delta Flyer, coming up with a plan to get her out of here. They now had what they needed ... proof that the nomads were indeed being organized and by whom. Stopping him would be a task left up to Voyager as a whole, as well as any planetary governments who would be alarmed by the knowledge of a military specialist being in charge of the pirates.

He was staring at her, as if knowing what she was thinking, as if he were able to read her mind. Ironic, she thought, considering the Devore's telephobic tendencies.

He tilted his head. "Don't think that Borg monster of a bodyguard will save you," he said with what seemed honest pleasure. "I had her terminated as soon as we had you clear of the tavern. Even now her body is being stuffed into a disposal unit."

She didn't know how she controlled herself then, the horrific fear and terrible fury that raged through her. She kept her face impassive, her shoulders square, her eyes fixed squarely on his despised features. She still had a ship, still had crewmembers to take care of. The sheer devastation which shook her did not show at all. She would not allow it.

"What do you intend to do with me?" she asked flatly, once she was sure she could control her voice.

He smiled, and it was not at all pleasant.

"I intend to keep you here with me," he said with snake like charm. "Just as you offered to take me along on your ship. I trust that we will get to know each other ... extremely well, Kathryn.  On my terms, this time ... not yours."

He nodded to his bully boy who seized her in his four armed grab, his hands digging cruelly into her biceps and forearms, completely immobilizing her.

"We're leaving this area of space," Kashyk told her. "We won't be back soon. I'm sure it won't take more than a day or so for your people to find the Borg's body, and realize you're gone but in the meantime, we'll be light years away." He looked at Phestus. "Take her to the brig. I will have ... use for her later.  She will be the evening's 'entertainment'."

A round of ribald laughter followed this witty verbiage, and a pair of four-armed aliens hustled her out of the lounge. She did not resist, knowing she was out-muscled and outgunned for the moment, wanting a better opportunity in order to make her move. Her heart raced within her, despairing at the news that Kashyk had arranged Seven's death, that this had indeed been a trap right from the beginning, and she had waltzed right into it with all her arrogance and assurance that she knew how to play this game. A game which may have cost her the life of her spouse.

If indeed he was telling the truth.

She took a breath as they dumped her into a stark room, empty but for a container and a single blanket. She realized that a prisoner's comfort was not high on the agenda for these people, and she checked the door by rote just to be sure they had locked her in. The tightness in her chest eased as it occurred to her that Seven was not particularly easy to kill; that just because Kashyk said that he intended to dispatch the Borg didn't mean he had succeeded. One or even three of his nomads were not necessarily a match for the young woman.

Janeway also knew that Ara would be expecting to meet both Janeway and Seven in the bar before long. The errand Janeway had sent her on, of checking out this very vessel which had attracted the captain's notice when it had berthed earlier in the day, would have been completed fairly quickly, and she would have returned to the tavern ... assuming she hadn't noticed Janeway being taken to begin with. Still, would she understand what was happening? If only the captain had a better sense of the Bajoran, comprehended her thought processes a little better. Janeway resolved that once this whole mess was finished with, she would make an effort to get to know the people on the lower decks better. Just because it was easier to let things remain at status quo didn't mean it was the best thing to do.

Janeway stood in the middle of the cell, trying not to let her apprehension get the better of her, believing that Seven and the rest would figure what had happened and come after her. She had absolute confidence in her people and accepted that all that was required of her was to do what had to be done in order to stay alive until then.

She carefully did not speculate what that might entail exactly. She had no illusions about what 'entertainment' meant, and knew that Kashyk would probably use her body in an effort to prove his power over her ... probably after some good old fashioned torture and mayhem first. Not something to look forward to, but certainly not a concept which could be allowed to defeat her before she even began. After all, she had been captured by Cardassians when she had been a green ensign, fresh from the Academy, and these ragged pirates were no Cardassians. She had also fought Cardassian soldiers on a nameless planet in a police action which had all the viciousness of any major war, brought her ship across sectors populated by Kazon and Borg and Hirogen and Species 8472, had been thrown into an alien prison where vicious physical abuse was how several species chose to communicate with each other, including one Human starship captain.

Through it all, she had survived the brutality.

Kathryn Janeway had become very adept at finding ways to survive, and as long as there was breath left in her body, she would continue to do so.

She searched the room, looking for anything that might be used as a weapon ... not necessarily for immediate use, but something to hold in reserve. Then she remembered the special items she had put in her vest before leaving Voyager. That seemed like years ago with all that had happened, and she began to search her clothes carefully, hoping that some of the items might have been overlooked in the fairly casual, sensor-assisted search of her that was carried out prior to her being imprisioned. The guards had relieved her of her communicator and phaser of course, as well as any metal or device generating an energy signature. She had learned from her experience in the alien prison, however, that sometimes there were ways around such high-tech scans, and now from concealed pockets in her vest, she drew items made of natural materials which would not show up on any advanced scanning device.

Wooden sticks with sulphur tips that when struck, produced a flame. 'Matches' they were called and still worked as well in the 24th century as they had five hundred years earlier ... though space ships generally did not like the concept of open flames. A rock, fitted to her hand, chipped at to make a rough cutting edge, acquired on a planet where she and Seven had been stranded for three weeks. In a fit of enthusiasm, Janeway had taught Seven the same survival skills that had been taught her in an eclectic course at Starfleet Academy, which included how to make various stone age tools. Seven had promptly made this stone knife, presenting it to her partner proudly, and Janeway had kept it ever since for sentimental reasons, even though its weight had dragged on her the entire time she had worn the vest. Now she might have a vital need to be thankful for its presence. Finally, there was a coil of Vulcan silk strand, impossibly strong and eminently suitable to be utilized in a variety of very useful ... very deadly ways.

One should never underestimate the ability of Human ingenuity, Janeway thought to herself grimly. Primitive did not mean inefficient ... or harmless.

She started as she heard a noise outside the door and knew someone was about to enter. She didn't know if it was Kashyk, or just one of his bully boys sent down to soften her up for the main event, but whoever it was expected an unarmed woman. She was about to show them how mistaken that really was.

She wrapped the microfilament around her hands, pulling the line tight and took up a position next to the entrance, her lips drawing back from her teeth in a snarl of anticipation.

Seven and Ara crouched amongst the containers littering the cargo bay of the pirate vessel. They had managed to jimmy the lock for the cargo bay hatch, which did not have the same sensors and security systems that the main hatch did. It was a typical oversight in these old ore freighters, which this vessel was despite its increased weapons array and propulsion unit. It took very little for Seven to utilize her implant to bypass the seal to provide them egress, and their only real fear was that the pirate vessel might normally run with the cargo bay depressurized. If that were the case, they were about to find themselves at a decided disadvantage in saving themselves, let alone the captain.

Vacuum was very non-nutritional, Seven noted and quickly sought out the access hatch to the rest of the ship. Ara, meanwhile, busied herself by prying open the various containers while Seven worked at the door seal. The ex-Maquis abruptly made a sound which attracted the Borg's attention, and Seven looked behind her.

"Lieutenant?"

Ara motioned at the interior of the container. "Take a look at this," she said.

Seven hesitated, then took the moment to look. The container was filled with weapons; disruptors, grenades and various projectile launchers.

"This isn't a pirate ship," Ara murmured, looking around at the other stacks of similar containers. "It's a damned arms runner. A lot of these are explosives."

"Not something the nomads are known for," Seven noted.

A sudden jolt shook them, and sickly yellow lights began to strobe. There was an unmistakable hiss of air as they felt motion beneath their feet, and they looked at each other in trepidation.

"They do run depressurized," Ara said as they rushed back to the access hatch. "It's going to get real thin and real cold in here before long."

"I understand," Seven said, working on the hatch with renewed determination. It would do them little good if she set off an alert on the bridge that the door was being opened, but the fact remained that if she didn't get it open soon, the two would be in far worse trouble.

Seven took a breath, bringing her rapidly increasing pulse under control, and carefully bypassed the signal that went to the bridge, making it appear as if the hatch to the cargo bay was sealed even as she pried it open, a task made more difficult by the thinning air.

Ara was gasping as they stumbled into the corridor, and Seven was careful to close the hatch behind them. They took a moment to catch their breaths, then Ara motioned them into a small utility room nearby.

"We should stay here for a while until they settle down," Ara suggested. "If we're lucky, they'll notice right away that the Delta Flyer has also undocked and is on their tail. While they're distracted with that, we can find the captain."

"They would not have left her with her communicator," Seven noted, chafing at the delay as they concealed themselves in the tiny room. "We cannot track her using that."

"Then we'll have to do it the old fashioned way," Ara said, then added at Seven's uncomprehending look, "Door by door, trial and error."

"Ah," Seven noted. They were silent for a while, feeling the vibration of the vessel leaving the dock tremble through the deckplates. She glanced at the other woman curiously. "May I ask you a question?"

Unlike most other people, Ara did not visibly wince at that, though she did seem to tense slightly.

"If you must," she said.

"Do you dislike me?"

An expression of what might be considered exasperation crossed the woman's face.

"It's hardly the time for this," she said.

Seven blinked. "I am not going anywhere," she noted. "For at least ten minutes. Will this dialogue take longer than that?"

Ara heaved a sigh of annoyance. "Look, I've got nothing against you personally, Seven," she said. "All right? It's just that you were brought on board out of the blue, and it seemed like the captain always gave you more preference, granting you an authority and privilege that the rest of us don't have. It can cause resentment, especially down on the lower decks."

Seven raised an eyebrow. 'Lower Decks' was a slang term used to refer to all those crewmembers who rarely had reason to work above deck four. They were mostly ensigns and crewmembers who lacked the necessary training and skills to advance; to be more precise, a good percentage of the Maquis. Of that group, only Chakotay and B'Elanna had moved easily into the senior ranks, and that was because they both had Starfleet experience.

"Do you feel I am incapable of accepting the responsibility granted me?" she asked with dismay. It was one thing to feel that Janeway might not trust her. She had resolved that. It had never occurred to her that others doubted her qualifications, however. Her loyalty when she first arrived on Voyager, perhaps, but never her superior capabilities.

Ara shot her a wry grin. "That's the hardest part about it," she said ruefully. "It would be easier if you were incompetent, and just being favored because of your personal relationship with the captain. It's worse when you are better than anyone else in a lot of things."

Seven frowned. "That is illogical," she said. "How is my being capable a source of resentment?"

"I never said it was logical," the ex-Maquis noted. "That's just how people are. They worked hard to get what little they've got. All your advantages seemed handed to you. The unfairness gets to some of us."

"I was assimilated," Seven reminded her. "Any one of you would be able to do what I do if you would simply allow the Collective to add your distinctiveness to their own." She paused. "And of course, have a Starfleet captain sever your link eighteen years later."

Ara shook her head. "No, that's not what it's about," she argued. "You have a natural intelligence that the rest of us lack." She seemed to think about it. "Maybe that's why the captain's so attracted to you. She's a scientist as well as a commander."

Seven considered that. "Do people also resent the captain for her mind?" she asked curiously.

Ara shook her head. "That's different," she said. "She's the captain. She's expected to be the ultimate authority, but you weren't. You were just a Borg, an unemotional, unthinking drone. There are plenty of other reasons to resent the captain."

"Do people resent the captain?" Seven asked, horrified.

Ara shrugged. "She did strand us in the Delta Quadrant," she said.

"Is that not preferable to a Federation penal colony?" Seven asked innocently. "Or dead if Voyager had indeed, returned as intended? The Jem'Hadar terminated every member of the Maquis they could find."

Ara took a breath. "I know that's supposedly what happened," she said carefully. "Not all of us believe that. They must have missed some of the resistance."

Seven regarded her steadily. "They did not," she said firmly.

Ara stared at her for a moment, almost as if she was attempting to believe the words the Borg was saying. Then she dipped her head, sadness etching her face.

"Maybe you're right," she said softly. "God knows, I hear Torres was broken up about it for a long time."

Seven searched for something to say. "I am sorry," she offered finally.

Ara shrugged. "You didn't know them," she said, and coldness edged its way back into her voice.

"No, I did not," Seven agreed. "However, I have come to understand the importance of interpersonal relationships, and Lt. Torres told me that the Maquis were like a family. I comprehend how it would feel to lose someone that close. And worse, be unable to do anything about it."

Ara took a breath, not looking at the Borg.

"Let's find the captain," she said shortly, apparently not wanting to continue the conversation any further.

Seven hesitated briefly before complying with the suggestion, carefully sliding open the door and peeking through to the corridor beyond. It remained clear, and she nodded to the lieutenant. They crept quietly into the hall, and stealthily made their way to where it branched off further down. An access hatch was above them, and without speaking, Seven motioned that she was going to mount the ladder to check it out. Ara nodded, and as she kept watch, Seven slung the rifle over her shoulder and scaled the metal steps. Cautiously, the Borg lifted the cover and peered through the crack she created, discovering another corridor which also appeared to be empty.

Quietly, she eased open the grate, and lifted herself gracefully onto the next deck. She brought her rifle into firing position alertly, looking around as Ara joined her. Seven glanced at the other woman inquiringly, and Ara gestured toward one end of the hall, suggesting that was the best direction to try. Since Seven had no real preference, she made no objection, following as the thin woman made her way toward the intersection where another corridor lay at right angles. Seven noted that unlike Voyager, which was maintained with the most conscientious Starfleet neatness, the corridors of this ship were dank and dusty, rust streaking the walls where moisture from condensation had dribbled downt he bulkheads. The deck was mostly clear, but where it met the hull, it was caked with grime and debris, left to float around during periods of null gravity, only to settle somewhere else later on.

Ara held up a hand as she peered around a corner, then held up two fingers. Seven had no clue what that meant and frowned at the Maquis. Ara rolled her eyes and stepped back, allowing Seven to take a peek herself.

Ah, Seven noted to herself. The two fingers meant the two nomads who were standing in front of a door some distance down the hall, almost as if they were on guard. Then, it occurred to her that perhaps they were guarding something or someone. There was nothing to indicate that it was the captain, but what else would need that much security on this vessel?

She shot a look at Ara, nodding and they retreated a bit.

"Ideas?" Seven whispered in a barely audible voice. She had heard Janeway say that often when the captain was not sure what to do next.

"Hit them fast and hard before more pirates show up," Ara suggested. She eyed Seven measuringly. "If we use our rifles, sensors are bound to set off an alarm on the bridge. How fast are you? "

"Fast enough," Seven said flatly. She handed Ara the weapon and unencumbered, tiptoed up to the corner.

The guards seemed relaxed, apparently not expecting any sort of interruption. In fact, they were leaning together, talking about a female they had seen in a bar they had frequented in their last port of call. They weren't even looking Seven's way, and the Borg took full advantage of their distraction, halfway to them before one looked over the other's shoulder to see her coming.

She was aware that he opened his mouth, perhaps to cry out, but she was on them before he had the opportunity to utter a word, knowing that in a hand to hand struggle ... where they each had four to her two ... she would be at a decided disadvantage. She struck a blow to his temple which killed him instantly, the man slumping to the deck. The other wasted time fumbling for his weapon, and she reached out and casually snapped his neck, twisting his head like a container cap.

Ara stared at her with grim approval as she joined her a moment later.

"Efficient," she said in an oddly cold voice.

"Thank you," Seven said, accepting the compliment.

She examined the lock, then extended a probe from her implant to activate the seal. She handed Ara the rifle once more and taking a breath, she opened the door, not sure what she would find as she entered the small room.

Something landed on her back, heavy and with a bite, a thin filament enclosing her neck, cutting off her wind. She staggered, the edges of her consciousness growing black, struggling for breath past a throat that was closed.

She bent forward in a desperate attempt to free herself, sending her attacker over her head to slam impressively onto the deck.

Janeway felt herself flipped over the large body she had grabbed, hitting the metal deck with an impact that drove the air completely out of her lungs. She felt something heavy land on top of her ,and she looked up to see a wild eyed Seven of Nine straddling her, her right fingers closing about the captain's throat as the left mesh implant ripped at the Vulcan filament cutting into the Borg's neck. Janeway's hands were clutching rather ineffectively at a wrist which was completely immovable.

"Kathryn?" Seven's gaze was confused, astonished, the woman wheezing past the obstruction wrapped around her throat.

"Seven," Janeway rasped, the exhilaration filling her with its power. "You're alive!"

"Why did you attack me?" Seven gasped, finally managing to free herself of the cord.

"I didn't know it was you," Janeway retorted.

"Are you two done or would you rather be alone?" a second voice asked dryly from the doorway.

Janeway looked over to see Ara standing in the doorway, hefting a compression rifle, keeping watch for any replacements for the two guards who were slumped on the deck.

Seven got off the captain and helped Janeway to her feet, politely handing the Vulcan silk filament back to her. There was a red line burned into her neck where it had bitten harshly into the skin, and blood trickled slowly down her throat, though apparently Janeway had missed the jugular vein. Despite her aplomb, it was clear that the Borg had barely been able to pull the garrote off before it asphyxiated her. Janeway felt a little dizzy when she saw the blood, having to compose herself with an effort.

"Next time, knock," she murmured, hoping the sarcasm would hide her shame and fear.

"Of course," Seven responded evenly. "Every time I break into a holding cell from now on."

Janeway wondered where her partner had picked up that reciprocal sarcastic nature. It certainly wasn't from her, was it? Had to be B'Elanna.

"Do you have one for me?" she asked, gesturing to the rifles.

Seven shot her a look. "Perhaps it would be best for you to remain unarmed," she said pointedly. "Until you are more cognizant of who is rescuing you."

"Give me the damned rifle," Janeway growled, taking it forcibly from Seven who allowed it. She could swear there was a bit of a curve to the Borg's full lipped mouth. "Where's the Delta Flyer?"

"Presumably right behind us," Ara said.

"You don't know?" Janeway said, annoyed.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "We were forced to ... improvise," she said.

When you walked into a trap and an attempt was made on my life was left unsaid, but Janeway felt it keenly. The captain was acutely aware that they were still in a lot of trouble, and she nodded briefly.

"We need to contact the Delta Flyer," she said. "But the nomads will pick up on our communicators. Options?"

"We could alter the signal," Seven suggested as they stepped over the guards on the floor. "Make it a carrier wave attached to what would normally appear to be nothing more than antimatter emissions."

Abruptly, Janeway became aware that the guards slumped on the deck were not unconscious, they were dead and that Seven had probably been the cause ... the same Seven who was casually talking about carrier waves and antimatter emissions. The captain felt a little sick, and decided that she and Seven needed to have a long talk after they returned to Voyager. Just because one was capable of killing efficiently didn't mean one always had to choose that option when carrying out a mission.

"Why did Kasha set this trap for you?" Ara asked, checking the power reserve of her weapon. "What set him off?"

Janeway frowned. "It turned out to be Kashyk of the Devore Imperium," she said. "He recognized me."

"Kashyk?" Ara said, looking at her oddly. "That Cardassian wannabe? How did he get way the hell out here?"

Seven merely frowned.

"Apparently he was thrown out of the Imperium because of our deception," Janeway said uncomfortably and changed the subject. "What's the plan here?"

The other two stopped and looked at her.

"I thought you knew," Seven said in a puzzled tone.

Janeway stifled the sigh. This was why she wore the pips after all.

"Let's find someplace private to create that signal," she ordered. "It might give us the extra few moments that we need in order to contact Paris and Neelix."

"The utility closet," Ara suggested.

Seven nodded. "I concur," she responded.

Janeway resisted the urge to roll her eyes and followed as the pair led the way to the far end of the corridor where the hatch was. They were just opening the panel when a yell at the far end of the corridor let them know things were not proceeding according to plan. Disruptor fire lit up the corridor, and Janeway pushed Seven toward the opening.

"Contact the Delta Flyer," she ordered harshly. "We'll try to hold them off."

She and Ara took cover to either side of the corridor in the meager shelter of support beams as they raised their rifles and fired back. At least the controls were set to heavy stun, Janeway noted with a touch of relief. She ducked as a beam burned past her head, so close the tip of her nose tingled, and she snarled, aiming at the nomad who had fired the shot, pleased to see him fall under her blast.

From the hatch leading down to the next deck, she could hear Seven contacting the Delta Flyer, the Borg hanging from the ladder, the top of her head barely visible as beams of energy streaked inches over it. From the bits and pieces Janeway could hear, apparently the Delta Flyer could not lower its shields, the pirate vessel hammering away at it with its rather formidable weapons array.

"Tell them to improvise," Janeway told the Borg when Seven relayed this information. The captain frowned as more pirates appeared, and she knew this was rapidly getting out of hand. Soon they would have to decide to either go down fighting ... or surrender.

It was one thing to put herself in Kashyk's hands. Janeway wasn't sure how she would handle Seven being used as his own personal frustration reliever. Dark fury descended, and she increased her fire, increasing the settings a notch and aiming above the nomad's heads at the ceiling, trying to bring it down on them. To her left, Ara seemed to understand instinctively what she was attempting, and concentrated her fire there as well.

There was an explosion, and debris suddenly rained down on the startled pirates, making them scurry further up the corridor. In the next second, a major jolt sent Janeway crashing to the floor, the rifle skittering away from her hand. Breathless, the captain wondered if she had accidently hit something more vital than she had intended.

She twisted frantically in an effort to either retrieve her weapon, or crawl back under cover. She was vaguely aware that Ara had also been knocked to the deck, and Seven had disappeared from sight, presumably having fallen from the ladder. The only good part was that the nomads seemed in equal disarray, collapsed in a pile at the furthest end of the hall.

"Captain, quickly."

Seven's voice floated up from the darkness below, and Janeway took a precious second to peer down through the opening. Seven was on her feet, looking at something unseen further down the hall. The Borg glanced at her, and before Janeway could object, the Borg reached up and snagged the captain's vest, hauling her down through the hatch.

Janeway yelped, arms wind-milling as she dropped, landing on the deck at Seven's feet with a solid thud. The Borg had let her go to drag Ara down as well, and Janeway struggled to suck air back into her lungs, able to do no more than watch as the ex-Maquis dropped lightly down to the deck, landing on her feet, her phaser rifle raised and ready. Seven swiftly sealed the hatch behind her, and Ara fired at the controls for good measure just to make sure no one could follow them for the time being.

"Seven, what..." Janeway began when she was able to breathe again, but neither of the other two women were paying attention to the starship captain.

Disconcerted, she followed their gaze to where a glow in the end of the corridor had appeared, sparks flying as a cutting tool blazed through the hull. A thick, black smoke began to fill the corridor, and the captain was relieved that she was already close to the deck where the air was still relatively clear. It actually took a moment to realize what was happening and when she did, she wasn't quite sure she believed it.

Lt. Paris must have slammed the Delta Flyer against the pirate ship, overloading the shields with his own, and using the magnetic docking clamps to attach his smaller vessel to that end of the larger vessel. Now, as the pirate ship was unable to fire at them, the weapons array simply not able to target anything on its own hull, the Federation members were busily cutting a way in ... directly through the side of the ship.

It violated every protocol Starfleet had, broke every docking and shipping regulation that existed in every civilization Janeway knew. The damage incurred would leave a hole the size of an air lock in the vessel's hull, exposing this deck, and any others not sealed to the ravages of decompression and vacuum once the Delta Flyer released its seal. It was the most illegal of techniques used to unceremoniously board another ship which did not want to be boarded.

In short, it was a blatant act of piracy.

Janeway was impressed beyond words.

The metal wall abruptly gave way, falling to the deck with a large clang, and the stocky form of Neelix appeared through the haze.

"Come on," he yelled. "Tom can't keep the Flyer steady for long. They're already trying to demagnitize the hull."

Janeway scrambled to her feet with an assisting hand from Seven. If the pirates succeeded in their attempt, the Delta Flyer would suddenly be repelled from the hull, and the three women would find themselves sucking vacuum very quickly. They all jammed into the airlock which was designed for only two people at a time, and Neelix activated the door, sealing them off from the pirate vessel. They were knocked around as a sudden jolt indicated that the pirates had finally reversed the polarity, repulsing the tiny ship which had been clinging to their vessel.

There was no room for any of them to fall down, but Janeway still managed to slam her head resoundingly into the bulkhead, and when the stars finally cleared, she could see Ara favoring her right arm, while Seven bled profusely from a cut over her right eye. Neelix was also banged up, dark spots already appearing to complement the golden ones scattered over his face, but he maintained enough alertness to activate the inner door of the airlock, and they spilled out into the Delta Flyer's aft compartment.

Moving quickly, but not gracefully, they dashed into the cockpit where Tom could spare them no more than a quick glance over his shoulder. Through the fore transparencies, Janeway saw the pirate vessel heel over, gases and what seemed to be fluids boiling from the wound in its side.

"I think you might have cut through something vital," Paris noted to Neelix as the Talaxian dropped into the co-pilot's seat just aft of the sandy-haired lieutenant.

"As long as they're not shooting at us anymore," Neelix mumbled, accessing his board.

Janeway dropped into the science station, and glanced at Seven who shook the blood out of her eyes as she activated the engineering console. Ara hunched over, using one hand to touch her pad in front of her. The captain regretted it, but she could give them no time to rest.

"Report," she barked, her ears still ringing from the blow she took, her head aching with a sickening pain.

"The pirate vessel is damaged," Paris said crisply. "Sensors indicate a loss of plasma fluid. A conduit must have gone just below where we went in, and our sudden detaching must have weakened the entire section."

"There's explosives in the cargo bay on that deck," Ara noted matter of factly through gritted teeth. "If the cargo bay ruptures or plasma leaks into there..."

Janeway's eyes widened.

"Get us out of here, Tom," she ordered.

"I'm trying," he muttered. "Shields are down to sixty percent, and our phasers are gone. Warp drive is off-line."

"Rerouting sensor power to the warp engines," Seven said distinctly from her post, her hands literally flying over the touch screen.

Janeway's knuckles whitened on the arms of her seat, and she found she was staring at the pirate ship wallowing in space before her, drifting away far too sluggishly.

"Mr. Paris," she said tightly through compressed lips, though she knew her crew was working as quickly as possible.

"Warp engines back on line," Ara barked, even as the captain could see the pirate ship begin to tear itself apart, great balls of light and energy engulfing the vessel, and reaching out in an expanding circle, hungrily seeking the tiny Federation ship.

"Warp three," Tom yelled triumphedly as he threw his ship into warp drive, barely ahead of the concussion wave, and Janeway heaved a sigh of relief.

"Set course to the rendezvous coordinates," she ordered.

She offered a glance back at the spark which had once been a ship full of nomads. Many of them, despite their leader, had only been trying to find their way in the universe at what they considered the worst sort of persecution. Had they been so different from the Maquis? Or indeed, any group in history who felt they were only fighting for their piece of the pie? She felt very weary all of a sudden, and her glance suddenly intersected with Seven who was looking at her with concern.

Yet, Janeway imagined that she read something else in those pale blue eyes, a cold satisfaction of a task being completed in an acceptable manner, regardless of the lives lost. So long as they were other lives, and not any of the Borg's immediate Human collective.

Janeway felt a chill go through her.

Disconcerted, she looked away and found herself caught by Ara's dark eyes.

"Lieutenant?" she asked, a bit more harshly than she intended.

"Did we succeed?" the Bajoran asked quietly.

Janeway felt her heart thump.  "We cut off the head," she said flatly.  "Do that and the snake dies."

The ex-Maquis tilted her head slightly.  "Or two more grow in its place," she noted.  "We may have just created a martyr."

Janeway swallowed.  "No," she said, "I don't believe that."

Saying it firmly so that her crewmember would accept it, so that it would be laid to rest, so that there would be closure.  So that perhaps even she could accept and believe it.

If she only tried hard enough.

The stars were thin streaks of light distorted by Voyager's warp field as the vessel resumed its course to the Alpha Quadrant, their dim illumination streaming through the large windows which dominated the blue sofa sitting beneath it. Janeway was standing by the coffee table, staring out the viewports pensively, her hands on her hips, her uniform crisp as it covered her tense frame. Seven raised an eyebrow as she ascended the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of the ready room, carrying a padd and a deep curiosity about her partner's disquiet.

In the reflection from the windows, Seven met the captain's eyes.

"Seven," Janeway said quietly.

"Captain," Seven responded evenly. She lay the pad down on the coffee table, and linked her hands behind her back, tilting her head slightly as she regarded Janeway's back expectantly.

"Have you finished your debriefing with Commander Chakotay?" the captain asked. "Or do you have another session."

"He informed me it was complete," Seven said. "My report is there on your table."

"Thank you," Janeway responded.

Seven waited, realizing that something was wrong. Something had been wrong ever since they had returned to the Delta Flyer, their rendezvous with Voyager, and a day filled with debriefings. It had to do with the pirates, and the fact that their leader had turned out to be Kashyk, and perhaps even how Seven had performed on the mission. More than once the Borg had caught the captain staring at her, a plainly worried expression on her face that she quickly covered up when she realized Seven was aware of her scrutiny.

Seven didn't like it, but they hadn't had a chance to discuss it, hadn't had a spare moment for the young woman to pin down her partner and find out exactly what was going on.

"Is that all?" Seven prodded delicately.

Janeway inhaled slowly. "No, " she said. "We need to talk, Seven."

Seven raised an eyebrow. The Borg designation being used rather than her human one made her edgy. Obviously the 'wrongness' had to do with protocols and professional conduct. This was clearly a situation where she was Voyager's astrometric's officer answering to the ship's captain; nothing more, nothing less. She wondered what she had done incorrectly. As far as she was concerned, the mission had gone relatively smoothly, and had ended most successfully, with the threat terminated. Apparently, Janeway did not agree.

Seven waited patiently, content to remain there all night if that was what it took for the captain to find the words to explain her reservations.

"We need to talk about your actions during the mission," Janeway said finally.

"Indeed," Seven noted. "They were unsatisfactory?"

Janeway hesitated. "Not in terms of outcome," she said. "The method, however, was not what I would like to see from a member of my crew."

Seven considered this, going over in her mind everything that had happened. Belatedly, it occured to her what the possible problem was. "It bothers you that I killed the nomads who were guarding you," she guessed.

Janeway turned to face her, surprise warring with dismay in her gaze.

"Yes," she said. "I need to know why you acted as you did."

Seven raised her head. "You believe that I killed them without provocation," she said, a statement, not a question.

Janeway studied her. "Did you?" she asked finally. "Did you kill them because you thought they had harmed me? Because they were holding me? Was this a matter of revenge, Seven?"

Seven blinked. "I was not even aware that they were guarding you," she told her honestly. "Lt. Ara and I only knew that we must check every room for your presence."

"Then why?" Janeway asked simply.

Seven realized this was very important to the captain. "I took the situation into account, the fact that Lt. Ara and I were gravely outnumbered, that attempting to stun the guards with our weapons would set off sensors, and most importantly, that those guards could not be allowed to set off an alarm. Terminating them quickly was the logical conclusion."

"You couldn't knock them unconscious?" Janeway countered sharply.

Seven thought about it. "Perhaps," she said slowly. "However, it would have required me to pull my blows to a certain extent, and without possessing a greater knowledge of their species, I could not know by exactly how much. I might not have rendered them unconscious immediately, thereby creating a prolonged struggle with them, or allowing the possibility of one of them calling for help. That was something I did not feel Lt. Ara and I could afford."

"Are you telling me that killing them was your only option?" Janeway insisted, and her voice was very hard. Yet, at the same time, Seven somehow understood this was not personal, not a matter of their private interaction, but very much having to do with her being this woman's crewmember, of being Janeway's responsibility as the Borg's captain.

Seven regarded her steadily. "No," she said deliberately. "It was not my only option. I could have attempted to sever their spinal cords. They would have lost all control over their bodies, and been unable to call for help. though if they were not immediately treated by qualified medical staff, they would have eventually died in any event ... only more slowly ... or at best, lived as paraplegics for the rest of their natural life spans." She paused. "That seemed a somewhat ... inhumane option."

She was careful not to allow the irony touch her tone, but perhaps she did not succeed because there was a flash in those grey eyes, and Janeway's jaw hardened.

"Seven, it is wrong to kill in the process of carrying out our duties," she said flatly.

Seven matched her stare. "That is a fallacy," she replied evenly. "You have often killed in the carrying out of your duties. As have I. In each case, it was considered justifiable. What makes this different?"

Janeway took a moment, obviously searching for some way to counter this very accurate observation.

"It is easy to kill, Seven," she said, her words clipped. "You're right, we have killed in carrying out what could be considered our duty, and maybe it wasn't always as justifiable as we'd like to believe. However, what we must always remember that what makes us Human is the knowledge that we always have a choice. That although we can kill, today we choose not to."

Seven raised her head. "What true difference does it make, Captain?" she asked with honest curiosity. "Killing is killing ... for whatever reason. What makes us 'Human' is not that we chose not to kill, but that we attempt to justify it when we do. Whereas supposedly 'lesser' creatures do not even consider the question. But then, they only kill to eat, or to survive, part of a naturally occurring food chain. It is we 'sentient beings' who kill for esoteric reasons like emotion or ideals. When a society's emotions and ideals are in sync, then any killing the members of that society does is considered justifiable, be it war or lawfully executing a criminal. When it is not considered in the society's interests, then killing is considered wrong." She took a breath and pinned the captain with her eyes. "My society is Voyager," she said. "The nomads were a threat to you and to my crewmates. If I knew of a way to terminate the threat without killing those two individuals, I would have done so. I did not. I will not risk the existence of any of my fellow collective members, particularly yours, on an esoteric ideal. I can not. It is not in my nature."

Janeway turned away, seeming unable to respond to such a flat statement. Her shoulders abruptly hunched as if warding off a blow, and Seven knew that the captain was struggling with something very deep and painful inside. It was not something that the Borg wanted to see, and certainly it caused her pain to know she had contributed to the captain's dilemma, but she also understood that it was very much Kathryn's nature. It was Janeway's place to argue what was, to demand better, to expect more, not only from herself, but from everyone around her.

Seven wanted nothing more than to reach out and wrap that small form up in her arms, to hold her until the turmoil and confusion went away ... but she could not. It would be unacceptable in a way that was not entirely clear to her, but nonetheless understood on a very basic level.

"That is a very convincing argument," Janeway said finally. "In some ways, I can't counter it." She turned once more, looking Seven full in the face, her eyes dark and determined. "But I must. From now on, regardless of the circumstances, you will not kill another sentient being unless it is to prevent your own immediate death, or that of a crewmember. That is a direct order."

Seven did not flinch though she wanted to. The tone in the voice was absolute. This could not be negotiated or clarified any further in any way, shape or form.

"I will comply," the Borg responded.

Janeway stared at her a moment more, then nodded.

"Dismissed," she said.

Seven wavered briefly, then dipped her head and left the ready room. Despite the anger in Janeway's eyes, despite the reprimand inherent in the captain's voice, there was still a warmth spreading through the Borg. Whatever her previous doubts, Seven now knew that Janeway expected the same standard of behavior from her as she did the rest of the crew, and would accept nothing less. The order had been clear and concise, just as it would, had it been given to Torres or Neelix or Ara.  Seven mulled over this new revelation with a faint smile as she instructed the turbolift to deposit her on deck four where she made her way to the Wildman's cabin, where she retrieved Jake. She returned with him to her own quarters on deck three and fed him before changing from her blue-grey mesh outfit into a pair of silk pajamas, padding about her quarters in a pair of soft, silver-colored slippers.

She was debating over whether to create dinner or not when the door hissed open and the captain entered. For long moments they stood looking at each other, then slowly, Janeway crossed the room. Without hesitation, Seven took her in her arms and held her tightly, resting her cheek on the soft auburn hair, feeling the tenseness of muscles ease slowly.

"Do you wish to speak further about this?" she asked softly.

"No," Janeway said and her voice was very husky, almost as if there were tears barely held back behind the words. "We have to leave it out there. At least, for now."

Out there.

Out there was the rest of the ship, the rest of the universe which lay beyond the doors of this place, this home, this haven they had created. Out there, Kathryn Janeway was captain of Voyager, and was responsible for the lives of her crew, for the way they conducted themselves under her command, for the decisions they made. In here, she was just a woman who trembled in Seven's arms, and tried very hard to keep from weeping in the aftermath of an away mission that, while not a complete failure, had not succeeded in the way Janeway had hoped. It had not turned out to have an easy solution, only many choices of the 'less wrong' variety.

Seven had come to understand that as time passed, and they grew together as a couple, certain things could not be allowed to affect their life here in these rooms. It was not always easy to decide what that applied to, nor was it always completely clear to her why Janeway chose to isolate the particular parts of herself that she did, but this was clearly one of these times, and Seven tightened her embrace gently. For long moments, they held on to each other, easing back into the familiarity of the room around them, to the sounds and smells of home and each other.

"What a mess," Janeway said finally.

"The pirate threat has been neutralized," Seven offered tentatively.

"Yes," Janeway sighed, hugging her tightly. "However, we didn't accomplish it the way we should have. It's not the Starfleet choice to go in and start blasting. We should have found a way to negotiate a peaceful solution."

"Kashyk hated you," Seven noted quietly. "Once he recognized you, it is unlikely that any peaceful solution was possible."

Janeway was silent for a moment, considering that. "That is a point," she allowed finally, with reluctance. "Deceptions within deceptions. Once the masks were ripped off, there was no way to keep anything hidden. You are right, he did hate me with everything he was. I had made a fool of him ... several times over."

"He made a fool of himself," Seven said. "If he had dealt with you fairly from the beginning, you would have reciprocated in kind, and offered him a sanctuary." She hesitated as a thought crossed her mind, the memories of that time returning, remembering how Janeway had pretended to be attracted to the man. She hadn't liked it at the time, but she thought she understood it. Now she wondered if it had all been pretense. With a sinking heart, she pulled back, looking down into the beloved features. "Do you ... regret your initial deception?"

Janeway studied her a moment. "Do you mean; could I have developed real feelings for him in other circumstances?" she asked quietly.

Seven hesitated. "Yes," she said finally.

Janeway shook her head. "Never," she said. "Certainly, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in the beginning, but I never trusted him for a moment. We both know, Annika, without trust, there can be no true bond."

Seven thought about it. "That does not exactly answer my question," she said.

A tiny grin quirked Janeway's mouth. "No," she admitted. "I don't suppose it does. Annika, I might have been able to care for the person he could have been. I did see potential there, but whatever my feelings were, they were only about what he could have been. Regardless, there was always your place in my heart ...  and no one else could ever supplant that. The most that I ever would have felt for him would have been friendship, not what I was pretending to feel for him."

Seven bent her head, trying to understand what Janeway was saying. "He truly believed you cared for him," she said slowly. "That you were attracted to him." Her eyes rose, meeting the captain's squarely. "Have you ever deceived me in that manner? Have you ever manipulated me?"

Janeway exhaled. "That's not an easy question to answer, darling," she said, releasing her embrace and going over to the replicator.

"No?" Seven responded, surprised and hurt. "It seems merely a choice of responding either negatively or positively."

Janeway took the glass of ice water that she had requested from the shelf, and sipped it slowly before turning around. She leaned against the counter as she looked directly at the Borg.

"Let me ask you the same question," she said quietly. "Have you ever manipulated me?"

"No," Seven replied promptly. "Never."

"Are you sure?" Janeway pressed.

Seven stared at her. Obviously the captain did not agree with her assessment.

"I do not believe so," the Borg replied, now a little less certain. "Do you feel that I have?"

"Of course you have, Annika," Janeway said quietly. "From forcing me to eat and sleep regularly, to occasionally allowing yourself to cry when you feel it will affect me most. You also tend to ask me questions when I am at my most vulnerable, because you believe you will receive the best response while my defenses are down. In fact, remember how this whole mission started? You threatened to tickle me in order to make me talk to you."

Seven was stricken as she considered what her partner had said. "You are correct," she said weakly. "I have been manipulative."

Janeway's face softened and she put her drink down on the counter, coming over to the young woman once more, slipping her arms around the slender waist.

"Annika, you have to understand," she said softly as she looked intently up at her, "we all are manipulative in small ways, but mostly it is for benevolent or honestly felt reasons. Just as you do things to convince me to take care of myself, I do the same to you. Remember when I had the doctor remove ova from my reproductive organs to make sure you have options in the event I die? That was blatant manipulation on my part, and what's more, you understood exactly what I was doing."

Seven swallowed hard. "You did that because you love me," she said.

"Exactly," Janeway agreed gently. "Just as your manipulations are based on your love for me, Annika. I'm not saying it's right, but it is very much a part of human interaction. What can be accepted and forgiven is a matter of individual decision, be it these small attempts at manipulating each other, to the deliberate deceptions I created to make Kashyk jump the way I wanted. I don't know that I can justify my manipulation of him. Certainly, it had far reaching consequences, not only for myself, but for others that his bitterness touched since. If it meant that I would save those telepaths, however, I know I would do it again." She rested her forehead against Seven's. "I do promise you, my darling, I have never pretended to feel something for you that I don't, and I would never attempt to manipulate you emotionally in order to cause you harm in any way. I couldn't. It would destroy me."

"I understand, Kathryn," Seven whispered. "I promise you the same." She pulled the captain close and kissed her. "I love you," she added in a gentle murmur. "I am sorry if I disappointed you with my actions on this mission."

Janeway shook her head. "You didn't, Annika," she said. "You couldn't. There are just some ramification from this mission we have yet to figure out, and it might take a while."

Then she brightened slightly, and smiled.

"But we will," she said in a voice that sounded completely certain.

"We always do, my darling."

Epilogue

Lieutenant Commander Tuvok opened his eyes as the chime to his door sounded. He was sitting cross-legged in his darkened quarters, the thin flame from a meditation lamp the only illumination. He took a slow, deep breath, clearing his mind before he lifted his head toward the entrance to his quarters.

"Come in," he said calmly.

The door slid open to reveal Lt. Ara, the woman standing patiently in the doorway until he nodded, inviting her in. She entered and, having done this many times before, lowered herself gracefully to the floor on to the cushion across from him. The lamp's flame flickered briefly as the passage of her body disturbed the air, and shadows danced across both their faces.

"You conducted yourself adequately on the mission," he said when she had settled.

"I agree," she said. Then paused. "Yet, I was lacking in the beginning, sir. I allowed my feelings of envy and dislike interfere with how I saw the others on the away team. I deliberately refused to call Janeway 'captain' for example, even when subtle hints were made."

Vulcans did not smile, but it seemed that Tuvok's eyes glowed a bit. "Captain Janeway is not known for her subtlety," he said. "You must have disturbed her indeed."

"That was not my intent," Ara said quickly, then bowed her head. "That is a falsehood, I did intend to disturb her." She frowned briefly. "I don't understand why."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I believe you do," he prodded gently.

Ara looked up, meeting his gently inquiring gaze.

"Yes," she agreed.

There was a silence, then Ara swallowed.

"They do love each other," she offered slowly. "More than I think we average crewmembers realize. It allows me to see the captain in a completely different light."

"That is good," Tuvok said evenly. "The captain and Seven's love is very deep ... almost spiritual. Were they Vulcan, it would be a bond only death could sever."

Ara shook her head slightly. "Not even death," she noted pensively.

He considered that. "Perhaps," he allowed. He regarded her. "Now you realize why you have been in error."

"Yes," Ara said quietly. "I understand many things now." She took a breath. "However, that does not mean that I am ready to reveal anything. Knowing does not always equate trust."

He dipped his head in acceptance. "Perhaps not yet," he said. "One day soon."

"Soon," she agreed. "Thank you for recommending me for the mission."

"No thanks are necessary," he said.

She uncoiled gracefully from the floor. "When is my next lesson?" she asked, lingering at the door.

"When it happens," he reminded her. "Lessons are learned when one least expects it."

She considered that. "I understand," she said. "Good night, Tuvok."

She left and Tuvok sat alone in his quarters.

Contemplating the flickering flame.

The End

•  This is the 20th installment of the Just Between Series.

• This was posted during the middle of June, 1999, after the fifth season of Voyager.

• This one is dedicated to Jennifer who visited me and gave me a hand with some of the research.

• The title comes from K.C.

Just Between Darkness & Light
G. L. Dartt

The silvery form of the Federation starship USS Voyager gracefully orbited the third planet in the Meuranato system. On the surface, her captain, Kathryn Janeway, along with her carefully selected away team, entered the expansive dining room of the central citadel. This first evening of their official visit was being spent in the company of the planet's governing body, at a dinner function hosted by the Honorable Chancellor Tarm, chieftan of the Meuranato Ruling Council. Janeway hoped to be able to secure both supplies, and some much needed shore leave for her ship, and this seemed like a fairly promising beginning.

"Some set up," Lt. B'Elanna Torres, the Klingon chief engineer muttered in an aside as the Federation diplomatic team was shown to the gigantic table, which stretched a considerable distance from one end to the other. They were directed to one end, to what was obviously a position of some importance.

"No kidding," Harry Kim agreed. Beside him, the security officer, Lt. Ara Lerona looked appreciatively at the wide variety of artwork adorning the walls, as she and the handsome young operations officer took their places.

Opposite them, Neelix, the ship's Talaxian jack-of-all-trades, and another security officer, Ensign Briggs, a deeply browned Argellian, settled into the ornately carved high-backed chairs, looking expectantly at the place settings before them. Captain Janeway found herself escorted to a place of honor next to Tarm who sat at the head of the table. That put her directly across from Seven of Nine, the Borg astrometrics officer who seemed slightly bemused by all the pomp surrounding her, though she maintained a properly dignified mien. Janeway was hopeful that this multi-species representation of her crew would make a good impression on their hosts, showing them how a variety of beings could work together in perfect harmony.

When the Federation crew had their first taste of Meuranato cuisine, however, Janeway knew she was in real trouble. Seven of Nine immediately developed that peculiar expression she assumed whenever she didn't like what she was tasting, and was preparing to spit it out as far as she could. Janeway was very familiar with that look, the last time occurring when the captain had made dinner for the couple, presenting her spouse of a few months with her own special version of escargot. Seven's Borg enhancements must have provided a certain amount of boost, because the ejected snail impacted on the far wall of the couple's quarters with a resounding thud, and promptly rebounded, striking Jake, their Irish Setter, in the head. The dog immediately yelped and looked accusingly at Janeway as if she was solely responsible for this indignity, and Seven's declaration that the delicacy tasted like 'garlic flavored fastening compound' ended the captain's cooking experimentation on a less than auspicious note.

Seven rarely beat around the bush when it came to her opinion on food.

However, Janeway doubted very much if it was a trait their hosts would appreciate, and she had no intention of letting Seven display her very impressive long-distance spitting technique ... either for the Meuranato or the rest of the away team. She swiftly reached out under the table, and kicked the Borg soundly on the ankle, eyeing her warningly. The young woman stared back at the captain with astonishment, and Janeway gave her a stern shake of her head, which she hoped no one else would notice. Seven's eyes immediately grew bigger, and an expression of complete distaste appeared on her face, but obediently she chewed a few more times and swallowed convulsively. Then, she issued Janeway a glare of such utter aggravation that the captain knew she was probably going to be paying for this for the next month or so. Janeway stifled her sigh and returned her gaze to Tarm, granting him her full and undivided attention.

Though quite humanoid in appearance, the Meuranato were a reptilian species, with a faint layer of shimmering scales over their skin. Their eyes were primarily green and gold, with slit pupils and no eyelashes ... in fact, their species was devoid of hair altogether, and they seemed fascinated by the follicles displayed by their visitors. Very often during the dinner, from the corner of her eye, Janeway would see one of the Meuranato waiters reach out, almost involuntarily, to touch her auburn locks, catching themselves when she gazed at them fully, promptly withdrawing and giving her an apologetic bow before resuming their duties.

Janeway wondered if she should have told Seven to let her hair down, the growth of which had been stimulated by the Doctor after the Borg's last mission, and Janeway was sure that, if the Meuranato were impressed by the captain's meager thatch of auburn, they would have been completely overwhelmed by Seven's impressive mane, which was at its greatest length to date, reaching midway down her back.

"I must say, Captain," Tarm said, "it is rare that we greet visitors with such discriminating tastes. Our chefs have attempted to provide the most creative dishes of which they are capable."

Janeway returned his smile, forcing herself to remember that the Meuranato considered baring one's teeth to be a sign of aggression, keeping her lips firmly over her canines. It felt ackward and she was sure she appeared idiotic, but it was something she had practiced.

"We are honored to have the opportunity to partake of your bounty," she responded evenly. She very carefully did not look at the rest of her team, sure they would be eyeing her with blatant disbelief.

To their chagrin, the food kept coming, course after course, and Janeway realized that her team's diplomatic determination to show their appreciation for the Meuranato's hospitality was being tested to its very limit. They greeted each new dish created by a different chef with bright expectation, as if hoping that this one would prove to be something more palatable, and each time, their faces fell as they tasted the offering.

Excluding Lt. Ara. The dark haired woman ate precisely the same amount each course before going on to the next, and Janeway wondered if the ex-Maquis had ever been in a Cardassian prison camp during the occupation of Bajor, thus acquiring a taste for anything, simply as long as it was edible. Even Ara faltered, however, when the main course was placed on the table with great ceremony by the Meuranato, the waiters whipping off the covers from the dishes with a dramatic flourish to display the meal set before them.

The food was still moving.

Voyager's crewmembers regarded their plates with dismay before B'Elanna, perhaps more inured than the rest of them thanks to her Klingon heritage, finally reached out with her utensil and gave it a try. The Meuranato sitting next to the engineer showed her how to scoop the squirming things into what seemed like a big spoon, and tip it up, the maggot-like shapes sliding down into B'Elanna's mouth, squirming visibly the entire way. Torres chewed slowly for a few moments, a contemplative expression on her face, then swallowed.

And readily took another bite.

Janeway noticed that Seven and Harry were looking at the engineer with horror, both a trifle green around the edges, and Neelix's eyes were as big as saucers, showing a considerable amount of white around the golden irises. To be perfectly honest, the captain's stomach was not as settled as it could have been either, but B'Elanna merely returned their stare and abruptly grinned, showing pointed teeth.

"It's good," she said, scooping up another large batch.

Harry goggled with every appearance of disbelief, while Seven shot Janeway a look of utter apprehension, clearly begging the captain with her eyes not to make her eat any of the dish. Feeling less sympathetic than perhaps she should because, as captain, it was required that she had to at least try it, Janeway frowned at her spouse and took the silver scoop the Honorable Chancellor Tarm offered. Steeling herself, the captain gathered up some of the little pale yellow curls, and tentatively took a mouthful, chewing rapidly in the hopes that she could get them small enough to go down her throat without trouble. She attempted very hard not to think about what she was doing, just as they had taught her at the Academy in Diplomacy 101.

B'Elanna was right, they were good.

Astounded by the flavor which was a combination of shrimp and barbequed chicken, lightly spiced, the tiny wiggling of the creatures was not even noticeable after the first few mouthfuls. It was, without question, the best tasting dish offered, and as long as Janeway ignored her cultural conditioning, she found it quite palatable. She could see the dismay still present in Seven's eyes however, the Borg obviously taken aback by the captain's apparent enjoyment.

"It really is very tasty," Janeway assured her gently. "Try a small bite."

Reluctantly, Seven picked up her utensil and prodded hesitantly at her meal, perhaps hoping to kill the creatures before she had to eat them. When she had finally mashed two or three into a rather revolting looking paste, she cautiously scraped it up and licked it off the scoop. Janeway thought that was far more disgusting than if Seven had just slurped them whole as the rest were doing.

"It is ... not as bad as I anticipated," Seven admitted in a low voice after she swallowed.

Janeway shot her a rueful half grin and to her gratification, Seven returned it, her pale eyes glowing.

The rest of the meal was less adventurous, and once the final dessert course was cleared away, Voyager's crew were escorted into another room where they were able to start the preliminary negotiations for the refined ore Voyager required for the equipment replicators. It was very similar to the Federation cocktail parties at the various embassies on Earth that Janeway had attended, and she found Tarm to be a charming representative of his species. More than a few of the members of the ruling council mentioned to the captain that they were particularly impressed that the visitors had partaken of the main course since most 'warm-bloods' ... as other mammalian humanoids were designated ... were usually offended by the offering. Janeway was very glad her crew were the adventurous sort, even when they were not always gracious about it.

Each crewmember had been assigned a Meuranato guide, and Janeway noted that Neelix's escort for the evening was a female named Margus, with scales of pale gold and a diminutive build. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of the Talaxian's chin and her slender frame made the stocky Delta Quadrant native look clumsy next to her. Lt. Kim however, was quite taken with her, and made a point to be in her presence as much as possible.

Harry's Meuranato guide, Trell, was an impressively large male, and it seemed to the captain that he also had an interest in Margus ... and did not appreciate the attentions his charge was attending upon her, though diplomacy obviously decreed that he not tear Lt. Kim limb from limb.

In a spare moment, Janeway nudged Harry discreetly. "Mr. Kim, you might want to take note that you are not the only admirer of Margus, or the fact that your escort has at least ten centimeters and fifty kilos of sheer muscle on you," she muttered quietly.

Harry took another look, his face blanching as he compared sizes, and must have decided the captain had a point. He nodded quietly and moved hastily away to another part of the gathering, as far away from Neelix and Margus as he could get and still be in the room. Janeway swallowed her smile, and found that Tarm was regarding her with his own smile.

"Your crewmember has good taste," he said quietly.

"He meant no disrespect," she offered carefully.

He dipped his head. "I am aware of that," he responded. "As I'm sure my daughter would realize as well, had she noticed his attentiveness for what it was. She is still inexperienced with alien species."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Your daughter?" she said.

He looked proud as only a father could. "Yes," he responded. "She will no doubt sit on the Council herself one day. Your visit is good training for her."

"As it is for my crewmembers," Janeway agreed, noting that Seven and B'Elanna were deep in discussion with their escorts; brightly colored males with iridescent fringes about their necks, though Seven seemed somewhat perplexed by what her companion was saying.

Janeway bowed politely to Tarm and drifted over, attempting to isolate her partner, and gratified when it turned out not to be that difficult. The Meuranato were remarkably polite, and Seven's escort merely shifted his attentions to B'Elanna who seemed to be preening under it.

"Is something wrong?" she asked the Borg when they had moved to a relatively quiet corner.

"Were you aware, Captain, that certain of the Meuranato in this room are 'available' to us?" Seven responded evenly.  "Including most of our 'escorts'?"

Janeway blinked. "Available?" she echoed in bafflement.

"For this evening," Seven prompted. "In the event that we should desire 'entertainment' upon retiring." She paused. "I had to inform my escort that I am 'bonded'."

Janeway exhaled slowly. "I see," she said slowly. "I'll inform the rest of the team not to misunderstand such 'availability'. First, however, I'd better find out what the best way to say 'no' is."

Seven nodded. "That would be wise," she responded dryly, quirking her eyebrow at the captain. "Especially since those 'escorts' are for you." She motioned with her chin toward the other end of the room. Four shimmering males with bulging muscles, and two females with impressive scales, were standing in a group by the refreshment table. They immediately perked up as the captain looked their way, and Janeway felt her mouth go dry.

"Oh my," she said, considerably disconcerted.

"Apparently," Seven noted with rare and unexpected humor, "your reputation for insatiability precedes you."

Janeway shot her a poisonous look, and went off to find Tarm once more. They needed to clear this up before the party was over, and any of the crew were escorted to their suites.

Or this mission would take a decided departure from Starfleet protocols.

Seven of Nine woke up in a strange bed in a strange room with strange roommates. She sighed softly as she heard B'Elanna snoring soundly in the other bed, while the subdued sounds of dressing let her know the third person sharing the suite was already up and around. Seven cracked her eyes open a slit, and saw the slender form of Lt. Ara pulling on her uniform. The Bajoran's short dark hair was slightly damp, and the Borg knew that she must have already utilized the ensuite, which left it free for her.

That was a good thing, since Seven had learned that it was prudent to get to the bathroom before B'Elanna. The Klingon tended to leave things in a mess, water on the floor, sopping towels draped everywhere, and a general impression of a bomb having gone off in her wake, all of which greatly offended the sensibilities of the very organized, meticulous young blonde.

Seven stretched, marveling at the silken sheets which slipped smoothly over her skin, wondering if she could acquire a set for her quarters on Voyager. They were almost like liquid, made of some material that would not snag on the Meuranato scales, and she thought it was probably the most comfortable surface she had ever slept on. In fact, her sleep the previous night would have been perfect, but for one very important thing ... Janeway had been required to stay in her own private suite across the hall.

Seven stifled her sigh and rolled out of bed, strolling through the room toward the ensuite in her Starfleet issued sleepwear, nodding a brief good morning to Lt. Ara. She and the Bajoran woman could not be considered friends, but they had acquired a certain sort of mutual respect after a recent away mission. Ara flashed her a faint smile, and Seven decided that perhaps being respected was something that was in itself, more worthy than merely being liked.

She quickly showered in the oddly functioning facilities ... the water tended to spray directly from the sides and had a disturbing tendency to go up her nose ... then pulled on her 'away mission outfit'. Comprised of a black sweater and trousers, the garments more practical than her mesh biometric suits which operated well within the confines of Voyager, but were inefficient under conditions which were not as controlled. She pulled on her padded vest, and tied her ankle-high boots, then went out to the suite where Ara was regarding B'Elanna who was still snoring soundly.

"Should we wake her?" the Bajoran asked curiously.

Seven studied the sleeping Klingon sprawled over the bed, head back, her mouth open as she rumbled away.

"That would be unwise," Seven noted. "I believe she has a tendency to wake up 'cranky'." At Ara's glance, she quirked an eyebrow. "I have been told this by Lt. Paris, and by B'Elanna herself. She does not like to be awakened abruptly. She tends to react ... violently."

"The problem is, the captain wants us to meet her in the main hall at 0800 hours," Ara reminded the Borg evenly.

"Yes," Seven said.

Neither of them budged, each venturing a glance at each other, hoping that the other would make the first move. Seven frowned and carefully inclined her head.

"After you, Lieutenant," she invited.

Ara eyed her uncertainly. "Is that an order?" she asked.

Seven considered that. "Yes," she finally decided.

Ara tilted her head. "You can't give me orders," she noted gravely. "You're not officially in the chain of command."

Seven's face fell. "No?" she said, then added hopefully, "Is it relevant that I am the captain's spouse?"

Ara shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said with undue solemnness.

Seven pursed her lips. "I am the one who is required to wake B'Elanna, am I not?" she said glumly.

"Seems so," Ara said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving every indication that she was going to watch this closely ... perhaps for future reference, though Seven did not envision that being necessary.

She inhaled deeply, and cautiously approached the bed.

A thin stream of drool ran from B'Elanna's mouth, and there was a thin sliver of white between her eyelids. Seven decided that perhaps this was not the most attractive she had ever seen the chief engineer.

"Lt. B'Elanna Torres," she stated clearly and loudly. "I order you to get up."

The young woman's eyelids fluttered, there was a brief Klingon epithet to the effect that Seven was hardly the boss of her, and could probably go pound sand, whereupon B'Elanna promptly fell back to sleep.

Seven frowned, reaching out and tentatively prodded the young woman's shoulder. No response, other than a louder than average snore. Seven glanced back at the security officer who seemed to be waiting expectantly. As a result, she did not see the fist which thudded into her abdomen as B'Elanna flopped over restlessly and resumed snoring.

It was an interesting sensation, Seven noted as her breath expelled from her lungs with a mighty whoosh, and she bent over slightly. The Borg was a great deal stronger than the average Human, and this did not incapacitate her as it certainly would in other circumstances, but she was left with a much put upon sensation that she did not at all appreciate.

Carefully, she inhaled and with a sort of firmness that was uniquely hers, reached down and grasped B'Elanna firmly by the front of her grey pyjamas, picking her up in one swift motion and setting her on her feet. Then the Borg released her, and stepped quickly back. B'Elanna had barely enough time to wake up as she swayed and toppled to the ground.

All in all, it was a fairly efficient way to awake up, B'Elanna bouncing up from the floor and cursing a blue Klingon streak. Seven fixed her eye on the Klingon's, pinning her with the force of a 'stare' she had been formulating by paying close attention to her spouse's own formidable gaze.

"The captain requires our presence in the main hall at 0800 hours," she said flatly. "It is now 0745 hours. We shall meet you there."

She turned and walked out. To her great gratification, the security officer followed her, an odd expression on her face. Seven glanced at her, quirking her eyebrow, and Ara abruptly allowed the tight grin to edge past her lips.

"Well done," she said, "but I doubt it is something the average crewmember can do."

"I am not the average crewmember," Seven noted reasonably. "I ... am Borg."

"So you are," Ara responded.

Yet, despite Ara's professional ... one might even say, friendly ... observation, Seven found that she was somewhat disquieted. It was beginning to occur to her that she held no real rank on the ship. While some people followed her requests, others balked, and rightfully so. It also crossed her mind that on occasion, some people acceded to her commands only because she was the captain's spouse, which was not necessarily an advantageous thing. She decided that she would have to speak with Janeway about this, and soon. She certainly did not require the rank and privilege of Commander Chakotay, the ship's first officer, for example, but it would be useful for her to understand where exactly she fit into the chain of command.

She felt a little bemused as she realized that until now, she had considered the chain of command to fall far short of Borg efficiency, every drone knowing exactly what to do without need of orders or demands. The Starfleet method worked, but not in a way she thought was particularly proficient. Now, however, she was beginning to see that it was even less productive when she remained outside of it, even as she tried to function within it. She wondered if Neelix also experienced this sense of frustration, of not knowing his true place in the Voyager family. Though the Delta Quadrant native had tried a brief stint as a security officer under Lt. Commander Tuvok's command, it had never really worked out and the two men, Talaxian and Vulcan, had come to an equitable agreement that it would be best that Neelix resume his tasks as Voyager's unofficial ambassador, and general all-around trouble shooter.

Sometimes, Seven decided, too much of what happened on Voyager was by chance rather than plan. It offended her Borg sensibilities.

She put aside her musings as she and Ara entered the great hall, which was bordered by lush greenery in manicured beds, and lit by an overhead series of skylights that allowed the sun's natural light to illuminate the area. The brightness was slightly different than Sol's spectrum, more into the yellow variant of the light, leeching out the blues, and Seven's ocular implant was forced to compensate. She wondered how her fully organic companions adapted.

Her heart increased its pace as she saw her spouse, just as it always did; the vision of that compact figure in her uniform of black and red, the four gold pips glinting proudly at the slate blue collar, making the Borg's breath catch ever so slightly. The captain was standing with the rest of the away team, Neelix, Lt. Kim and Ensign Briggs, by the main entrance to the residence, along with several Meuranato, including the Honorable Chancellor Tarm. Seven noted how Janeway's elegant features did not precisely alter when she noticed Seven's approach, but  the blue grey eyes were certainly lit by a profound glow, which in turn, warmed the Borg immeasurably.

"Seven," the captain greeted, somewhat formally. "Lt. Ara." She looked expectantly behind them. "Lt. Torres?"

"The Chief Engineer is running a bit late, Captain," Ara offered smoothly. There was the sound of feet pounding on the marble floor. "I believe that's her now."

Janeway's eyes met Seven's in a briefly shared second of amusement, before turning her attention to the Meuranato council leader.

"If not exactly on time, at least we're eager," she noted, smiling thinly.

He returned the lipped smile. "You will notice that my daughter has yet to arrive as well, Captain Janeway," he said. "We may have more in common than perhaps we realize."

Janeway dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to the away team. "Honorable Chancellor Tarm has indicated that for our round of talks today, it isn't necessary that most of you be present. I will require that Seven and Lt. Ara remain with me, but the rest of you are free to accompany Margus and her guides on a tour of the more ancient of the Meuranato ruins."

Seven glanced at B'Elanna, and knew that the chief engineer would readily change places with her, but it was clear from the way Janeway phrased the offer, it was more than merely a suggestion. Seven felt a small smile quirk the corner of her mouth, and she obligingly moved to the captain's side even as Ara did, attempting not to look inappropriately smug.

The group moved outside onto the wide expanse of veranda which looked over the rest of the Meuranato capital city, and their attention was taken by the approach of a large anti-grav land vehicle. At the helm, Margus waved cheerfully, and Seven noted that Janeway and Tarm exchanged another of the thin smiles. The Borg tried not to smirk when she noted B'Elanna's very hangdog expression as the Federation members climbed into the speeder with their Meuranato guides, and drove off toward the city limits.

Janeway nodded at her remaining crewmembers. "Follow me," she murmured, and the much reduced group descended the stairs to cross the paved square which boasted an intricate fountain in which some unidentifiable creature spouted water from its mouth.

Seven eyed the sculpture with interest as they passed it, and wondered what sort of lifeform it represented or if, indeed, it represented any at all. She had come to learn that sometimes the creative instincts of humanoids manifested themselves in objects which were solely of the imagination, though she did speculate that the thing was far too visually displeasing to come from sheer inspiration. Of course, she had nothing solid to back that presumption up with, other than the fact than she found the sculpture repulsive. Considering her taste in artwork, that was saying something indeed.

They were led into the administrative side of the complex where they had been entertained the night before, through the gracious halls to a room where a large table was set up. There were pitchers of ice water, and a Meuranato version of the Starfleet padd set neatly in front of each high-backed chair, along with several stacks of informational material. Seven realized this indicated the upcoming talks would be extensive, which probably meant she and Kathryn would not be able to find a certain amount of time for themselves after all, contrary to what she had been hoping when she discovered she was to stay behind and assist the captain.

Perhaps she should have requested that she and B'Elanna trade places after all, she thought glumly as she took her seat to the captain's right.

This was going to be a long day.

B'Elanna lifted her head into the breeze that flowed over her, enjoying the play of it on her face as the speeder wound its way along the bank of a sparkling river to what would undoubtedly be another dusty pile of rock and debris. She truly did not see the appeal of looking at long dead cities, and she had no clue why other people found this stuff fascinating. She eyed Harry Kim with a sort of bemusement, wondering what compelled his enthusiasm about this tour.

The young Meuranato female obviously, she decided finally, with an internal smirk. Trell had not come along on this excursion, having been switched over to Lt. Ara, while the Bajoran's guide, a male named Larus, was appointed to Harry. The Klingon didn't know how that had happened, but she suspected it had something to do with Margus. The Meuranato would occasionally glance at Harry provocatively, and B'Elanna wondered how much trouble this was going to cause in the future, remembering well when the operations officer had become involved with another alien female, completely against the captain's orders. Leave it to Harry to be defiant only when his gonads are involved, she thought with amusement.

Catching sight of the rectangular signs which had become very familiar to B'Elanna the past few hours, the alien inscriptions indicated yet another site on the tour of Meuranato historical ruins. B'Elanna waited as the speeder slowed and stopped, lowering gracefully onto its landing struts which imbedded themselves into the mossy turf of a large clearing. The Klingon climbed out of her seat with a poorly stifled sigh, stretching slightly as she strolled down the ramp behind the rest of the away team. She shaded her eyes with a hand as she looked over the various weathered stone monuments, rising above yet more rubble in the thick temperate jungle which spread out around them. She tried not to look disgusted when she realized it was as unremarkable as the last few sites, waving away a few buzzing insects which flew too close to her head.

She must not have succeeded in hiding her disdain, because Margus drifted over to her not long after the walking tour began, an inquiring expression on her face.

"Lt. Torres?" she said. "This displeases you?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "Not at all," she lied, then in a fit of inspiration, added, "I'm Klingon and our forms of entertainment differ somewhat from this, but please, don't feel I am unappreciative. Learning about new cultures is very important to Voyager and her crew." She was rather proud of the last statement. It seemed properly diplomatic.

"It is important to us, as well," Margus agreed as they strolled along the various paths which had been set up to best show off the ruins. "I would especially like to know more about you. What kind of entertainment do 'Klingons' favor?"

B'Elanna smiled, realized a little late that she was showing her slightly pointed teeth as Margus recoiled slightly, and immediately pressed her lips together in what was hopefully, a less threatening grin.

"Sorry," she apologized. She took a breath. "Klingons are warriors by nature, and our forms of entertainment could be considered ... well, somewhat more 'rambunctious' than this."

"Ah, you find this boring," Margus said knowingly.

"I meant no disrespect," B'Elanna said hastily.

"None taken," Margus said. She lowered her voice and leaned closer to the Klingon confidingly. "I will admit, I too find this tour to be predictable and mundane. We offer it to every alien species who visits, and sometimes I feel if I see another revered place, I shall go mad."

B'Elanna laughed, this time careful to keep her teeth covered. "Well, sometimes we have to do many boring things for the sake of diplomacy," she said.

"Yes," Margus said. She studied the Klingon covertly. "Do your people find entertainment when there is the possibility of ... danger?"

"Oh yes," B'Elanna explained readily. "In fact, the more dangerous, the better. The potential for getting killed is considered the best form of entertainment of all."

If there was a bit of sarcasm in her tone, she doubted the young Meuranato picked up on it. The reptilian female had no way of knowing that B'Elanna was only half Klingon, something that had caused the engineer more than her share of heartache while she was growing up. Considered too soft for most Klingons, too rough and abrasive for most Humans, B'Elanna found herself on the outside looking in on far too many occasions.

"Some of us also find entertainment in dangerous pursuits," Margus offered. She looked odd, half fearful, yet exhilarated at the same time. "Perhaps we could find a better alternative for you and your people."

B'Elanna frowned. "In what way?" she asked, a sinking sensation in her chest as she realized she may have inadvertently caused something which could get not only her, but the rest of the team in trouble. However, Margus had already drifted off, heading for another of the guides to whom she spoke intently.

B'Elanna worried about it for a moment, then common sense reared its head, and she shrugged it off. The Meuranato seemed pretty reserved. What could be considered dangerous to them might be no more than a minor thrill to someone like Harry Kim who was one of the most placid people B'Elanna knew. She doubted anything the seemingly naive young Meuranato came up with would be all that exciting.

B'Elanna feigned interest as she finished the walking tour through the Seventh City of Tarphus which apparently had been the Meuranato ruler's last stand, not really paying attention as the tour guide droned on and on about how the warrior king had reigned over the planet before he was brought down by the people and the destruction of something called the Crystal of Being (In Charge). B'Elanna snickered when the universal translator spat that one out at her, deciphering the name of the artifact into Federation terms. On the other hand, she considered, some of the grandiose names both Humans and Klingons had used in their time undoubtedly sounded as silly in other languages.

Later, the group gathered back at the speeder where the tour guide left them and refreshments were distributed by their Meuranato escorts. The Federation crew gratefully partook of the offering which, unlike the night before, was of a more common variety; fresh fruits, warm breads, sliced meats, and various cheeses which were far tastier than the concoctions the Council chefs had come up. B'Elanna washed down her makeshift sandwich with a large draught of some sweetish flavored, ice cold beer, and decided that perhaps the Meuranato weren't as bad in the gastronomic department as she had come to believe.

"B'Elanna?"

Torres glanced over to see that Neelix had moved over to join her.

"What is it, Neelix?" she queried the gold spotted Talaxian, feeling relatively benevolent at the moment under the effects of a warm sun, the pleasantly cool breeze, and some good food under her belt.

"I was wondering. ... now that Susan Nicoletti is doing most of her duty shifts on the bridge if there might be an opening in Engineering," he said in a far too casual voice.

B'Elanna considered that one carefully. Several months ago, she, Seven and Chakotay had been transported to the Alpha Quadrant by a Bajoran orb. Before the artifact's energy was drained completely, the three used it to return to Voyager, bringing back a runabout stuffed full of supplies including enough upgraded equipment to bring the food replicators fully back on line.

Neelix, a native of the Delta Quadrant, had been doing all the cooking for the crew prior to that, and his messhall had been the center of the community on the ship. It was still the center of the community, but he no longer had as much to do, many people returning to the replicator for their meals rather than choosing his dishes which admittedly, could sometimes be considered as adventurous as the alien offerings they had eaten the previous night. As a result, Neelix was finding himself somewhat at loose ends, and the Klingon knew that a recent stint in security had not worked out for the stocky alien.

"I'm sure we could find something for you," she said slowly.

Normally, she would not be willing to stick a random factor in her carefully balanced engineering team, but a recent discussion had altered her perception somewhat. It had been over lunch ... something the engineer wrangled whenever she and the Borg had the same off duty day because Seven was a surprisingly remarkable cook. Janeway had also been present that day, and the couple had been discussing the advantages of being flexible verses being organized. The captain offered the argument that it was not good for any group of people to become too complacent in a set group of tasks, which would make them unprepared when something unforseen did occur, as was bound to happen in the Delta Quadrant. Seven contended that, on the contrary, having a defined organization allowed a large group to adapt quicker because everyone knew their place, and would do their job no matter what went on around them. The couple hadn't come to any definite conclusions, but B'Elanna had taken the captain's words to heart.

She decided that adding Neelix to the engineering mix would do wonders for her crew, who had perhaps grown a little too comfortable in their positions.

Neelix beamed. "Thank you, B'Elanna," he said. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," B'Elanna said. "And Neelix?"

He looked at her inquiringly. "Yes?"

"It's Lt. Torres from now on," she said, edging a little command into her tone, pleased when it sounded faintly like the captain's. "You're in my department now."

Neelix straightened. "Understood," he said crisply. "Lt. Torres."

B'Elanna stifled her smile as he moved away, considerably lighter in his step, and felt good about herself which was a nice change from how she normally felt. Her eye was abruptly caught by Margus who had climbed up onto the hood of the land speeder, waving her hands to attract everyone's attention.

"I believe we have seen enough of Tarphus's cities where he ruled," Margus said in a ringing voice. "Now perhaps it is time to see where he failed. I think we should show our visitors the Ruins of Sanzzibar."

B'Elanna was sure it was just her imagination playing tricks, but was it a coincidence that a cloud passed over the sun at that very moment, the breeze picking up to flow around them with chill intent? There were murmurs from the other Meuranato in the group, uneasy glances being exchanged as the Federation team mostly looked confused.

"That is forbidden," one of the Meuranato, a youngling named Nouvat, pointed out. The stocky male was B'Elanna's assigned escort, and boasted a respectable fringe around his neck.

Margus looked at him scornfully. "There is no law on the books that specifically prevents someone from entering the ruins," she said. "The Administration of Historical Sites simply takes no responsibility if people visit them."

"That's because no one ever comes out," Harry's guide, Larus muttered. He was smaller than Nouvat and his fringe was much more muted, a pale green rather than the brilliant blue of the younger guide. "If Trell were here, he wouldn't stand for this."

Ensign Briggs's guide, a stocky female named Darnat, sneered at him. "You're not afraid are you?" she said pointedly.

B'Elanna was interested to discover that Meuranato showed embarrassment by the way their ear tufts darkened, the veins in the wing-like tassels throbbing visibly. At least, she thought it might be embarrassment.

"Uh, Margus," she said, realizing that she, as the senior officer, was in command of the away team. "We certainly don't want to do anything that might be considered ... uh, offensive to your government. Are these ruins off limits?"

"Only to the cowardly," Margus noted as she stared directly at the Klingon, and B'Elanna wondered if the young Meuranato was attempting to bait her into some kind of challenge. If so, it was a failed effort. Better individuals than Margus ... Seven sprang to mind ... had provoked the Klingon over the past few years, and did a far more effective job at it. "They are not maintained by the Historical Administration so they're not on the tour, and the possibility of crumbling rock could pose a threat. However, the stonework and carvings are far more interesting than the ones we've seen, and there are some that say they actually reveal the true origins of Tarphus's rule, as well as hiding a lot of the treasure he was purported to have secreted away."

B'Elanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A treasure hunt. That was all she needed, but when she glanced around at the others on the team, they were looking at her with eager expressions. They must have been as bored as she was by the tour ... only they had hid it better.

"It might be more interesting to go back with data on the Sanzzibar ruin," Harry noted hopefully. "Especially if it isn't in the guide books."

"Lt. Kim is right," Neelix chimed in. "Often, the 'official' government tour does not give visitors a chance to see the 'real' planetary history and culture."

Ensign Briggs seemed the sole voice of reason. "Lieutenant, I'm not sure the captain would approve of going outside the scheduled tour."

B'Elanna considered her own perception of the fiery woman who commanded Voyager.

"I don't agree," she told him quietly. "If anyone likes poking their nose into places where it supposedly doesn't belong, it's the captain. I think she would want us to take this opportunity to see Meuranato outside the government restrictions."

He still looked troubled. "If you say so, Lt. Torres," he said doubtfully, though content that he had voiced his objection to the team leader, and not interested in pressing it any further.

B'Elanna nodded at Margus. "All right," she said. "How far away are these ruins, and what should we be looking for when we get there?"

Margus beamed, and B'Elanna considered the fact that she was two for two in making people happy today. She wondered if it were becoming a habit, and promised herself to address it as soon as possible. Making people happy was not an admired Klingon trait. Making them cringe was more her style.

"The Sanzzibar ruins are only an hour away, though the trail there is somewhat rough," Margus admitted. "It may take longer if we have to detour about collapsed trees or rock falls."

"Then I guess we best get started," B'Elanna said, brushing her hands off on her uniform before vaulting up onto the speeder. "If we want to explore a little and still be back before dark."

She was somewhat disturbed when she heard a mutter from Larus to the effect that 'the dark was exactly where they were heading'.

Janeway twisted her shoulders in an attempt to work some of the stiffness out of them, taking a moment to catch her breath after a lengthy and challenging negotiation. The Meuranato had turned out to be far less pleasant in trade than their genteel manner indicated, and she had been forced to use every bargaining ability she possessed to acquire the supplies she wanted. On more than one occasion, she had glanced over to see Seven staring at her with bemusement, while Lt. Ara always seemed to be leaning back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest, watching the proceedings with the infinite patience of a hawk. Other times, the Bajoran and the Borg were able to leave at specified intervals. Seven utilized such breaks to retrieve fruit and pastries for the captain. The Meuranato apparently didn't think diplomats required rest of any sort, and if it hadn't been for Seven's thoughtfulness, Janeway probably would have collapsed at one point.

Finally, Tarm declared the discussion over for the day, having accomplished about fifty percent of the concessions needed for the trade pact. It seemed so extremely complicated for a fairly minor exchange that Janeway could only imagine what it would be like if there was a matter of a long-standing treaty involved. She shook her head as she picked up her glass of ice water, and sipped it as the rest of the negotiators left the room. She was aware of Seven moving close to her, frowning faintly as she regarded the captain.

"Are you all right?" the Borg asked curiously.

Janeway offered her a rueful grin. "It's considerably more difficult than I expected," she admitted in a low voice. "I thought we'd be done by lunch, and instead, we may be looking at another two days."

Seven nodded, then hesitated, an odd expression crossing her face.

Janeway flashed a bluish-grey glance at her.

"I know," she said with tolerant amusement. "Tomorrow, you'd rather go on the historical tour."

Seven's cheeks stained a light pink. "Am I that obvious?" she asked.

Janeway tilted her head slightly, deliberately gentling her voice to become more husky and intimate. "To me, you are," she said, and was gratified when the pink in Seven's face deepened, though obviously it was for a different reason ... pleasure rather than embarrassment.

"I will stay with the negotiations," Seven decided firmly. "Otherwise, who would make certain that you have something to eat?"

Janeway eyed her warmly. "Have I ever told you how glad I am to have married you?" she murmured quietly.

"Frequently," Seven responded in an equally low voice. Her pale eyes glowed. "I shall never tire of hearing it, however."

The couple shared a look of affectionate regard, then Janeway frowned briefly as she became aware the two of them were now alone in the conference room. "Where's Lt. Ara?" she asked, noticing the security officer's absence for the first time.

Seven looked out the large doors, motioning with her chin. "She decided to see where the rest of the away team is," she explained. "She was under the impression that the tour was only to take a few hours, and she wondered why Briggs hadn't contacted her upon their return."

Janeway felt a faint tingle of alarm skitter up her spine, though she wasn't sure why. Through the large bay windows which looked out over the city, she could see the muted golds and reds of the sunset, the sky darkening to a deep navy, and realized that they had been in negotiations longer than she had thought.

"She's not the only one concerned," she said somberly, putting her glass down on the table and gathering up her padds. "When did she leave?"

"She left approximately thirty minutes ago," Seven responded as they left the conference room. "She said she would meet us by the fountain in the square."

Janeway nodded, wondering why she felt this sense of foreboding. Aside from the intricacies of the negotiation, the Meuranato had been nothing but accommodating, and it was unlikely that there was anything wrong. Yet, despite that, she still quickened her pace as they crossed the plaza, heading for the fountain which was now lit by pink and green lights in the deepening dusk, the water reflecting the glow.

The slender figure of Lt. Ara paced restlessly beside it, and Janeway approached her quickly.

"Lieutenant?" she asked, a little more sharply than she intended.

"They're still not back," Ara explained as she led the way to another area of the complex. "There's been no response on the communicators. The transport division agreed to put a trace out on the land speeder, though they told me it would take a while before they triangulated the signal from its energy output to its garage berth."

"Was the tour supposed to take this long?" Janeway asked.

"No," Ara said shortly. "They should have returned by mid-afternoon, although the historical administration allowed that perhaps they may have taken longer at each site than was anticipated. Certainly they should have returned before dark, however."

"I agree," Janeway said. "I don't like the fact they're not responding to your hails. We're well within range."

They entered the transport center, and the captain was further disturbed to see Tarm already there. He must have come directly from the negotiations, indicating that he had been informed of the lateness of the group as well. She wondered why he hadn't mentioned it to her when he left the conference area. She glanced around the room which was filled with a multitude of screens, monitoring the various areas of traffic within the city, and supposedly keeping track of any official government vehicles which had left the complex.

"Is there anything to report?" she asked quietly.

The Meuranato seemed a little startled to see her, then shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "I assure you, Captain, it is probably just a matter of time simply getting away from them. They should be back shortly."

Janeway eyed him narrowly, not believing the reassurance for a second. He looked far too concerned to believe his own words.

"Are there any dangers on this tour?" she asked a young Meuranato female who was hunched over a screen displaying a cross section of maps which flickered from one to another rapidly.

"No," she responded promptly. Then hesitated. "Of course, they were required to remain on the scheduled route."

"If they didn't?" Janeway asked evenly.

"Then perhaps they would have encountered certain natural obstacles," Tarm interjected smoothly, overriding the technician's reply. "The ruins they were to view are in the mountains, and there's always the possibility of rock falls."

"Is there a communicator on the speeder?" the captain queried.

"Yes," another of the monitoring Meuranato spoke up. He was frowning worriedly. "There's been no response however. It could be a malfunction, or they could have simply turned it off for some reason. It is not uncommon, even if it is against the regulations. Another problem is that if the speeder isn't powered up, the ID signature can't be traced using this equipment."

Frowning, Janeway looked at Tarm. She had not wanted to bring Voyager in on this, but it was clear the Meuranato were not able to get the job done.

"Honorable Tarm," she said. "If you could give me the energy signature, I'm sure my ship's sensors could pinpoint the location of the speeder."

He looked at her, his eyes darkening, then he nodded. "That is a wise idea, Captain," he said with obvious difficulty.

The concession did not make Janeway feel any better since it was clear that he felt they didn't have any other choice, and she touched her communicator with a distinct sense of unease.

"Janeway to Voyager," she said.

"Voyager here," returned the calm voice of her Vulcan security chief.

"Tuvok, I need you to run a trace on the energy signal I'm sending you, and transmit the coordinates back to this location," she said.

"Understood," he said. "Stand by."

Seven had drifted over to one of the monitors, and with the Meuranato's permission, she took a seat at it, linking it to Voyager's computer where she transmitted the energy signal. There was a pause as the two computer links exchanged information, then data started to download into the Meuranato screens. Janeway didn't know what Voyager had come up with, but from the immediate gasps which were quickly stifled, she knew it couldn't be good.

"Honorable Tarm?" she said in a particularly dangerous voice.

The Meuranato did not go pale precisely, but his scales definitely took on a sort of brittle look in the greenish glow of the screens. He did not answer the captain, instead turning to his assistant.

"I want a patrol out there right now," he snapped.

Janeway exchanged a significant look with Lt. Ara who had been remaining out of the way and staying silent. The tall woman immediately moved up to the captain's side in a support position.

"What's going on here," Janeway demanded, her voice hardening.

"Captain," Tarm began, turning to her. He hesitated, then lowered his eyes. "This location your ship is sending ... is it accurate?"

"If your energy signal was," Janeway responded firmly.

He shook his head. "This is not good," he said.

Janeway resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff of the neck, and shake him until his eyeballs rattled.

"What isn't good?" she asked with forced patience.

"The signal appears to be coming from the Ruins of Sanzzibar," one of the other Meuranato said in an odd tone.

"Those ruins were not on the tour?" Seven guessed.

"No," he said, then immediately shut up as Tarm glared at him.

Janeway felt anger rise in her, and she was forced to take a few seconds to compose herself. When she was sure she could maintain control of her voice, she stepped in front of Tarm and fixed him with a force ten 'look'.

"I want to know what's going on here," she said.

He stared at her, then nodded. "Very well," he said. "However, we must go to the Offices of the Protectorate. They'll be sending out a patrol to check this out."

As they left the transport administration center, Ara fell into step with the captain.

"The Protectorate are the Meuranato's version of an army, captain," she said in a low voice. "Why would they need to send out an armed patrol to pick up some tourists?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Janeway responded in her coldest tone.

The Offices of the Protectorate were larger than the transportation center, filled with Meuranato dressed in purple uniforms, banded by black leather belts and boots. The highest-ranking officer saluted Tarm stiffly, and turned back to monitors which showed the windshield of a vehicle driving through the night. The dark outlines of trees and bushes could be seen lining what appeared to be a dirt road, while rocks and an occasional stone outcropping forced the vehicle to swerve now and again.

"That is the video feed from our patrol, Captain," Tarm explained as they all stared at the main screen set high on one wall . "They'll be arriving at the ruins within two hours. I suggest you take the opportunity to have dinner."

"I suggest you take the opportunity to tell me about the ruins of Sanzzibar," she returned firmly.

He took a breath. "They're extremely dangerous, Captain," he said. "I can't imagine why your team wished to visit them."

She raised her head. "You're assuming it was my team that made the decision," she said. "I doubt they would even know about these ruins in the first place, unless your people told them about them."

He stared at her. "My daughter would not voluntarily go there," he said in the sort of tone that almost sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. "I've warned her repeatedly about how unwise it would be to visit the ruins."

"That may have only made them more attractive," Ara noted dryly from where she and Seven were standing, looking over the shoulder of the Meuranato soldier who was monitoring the direct feed from the patrol vehicle.

Disturbed, he shot her a glance, then returned his attention to Janeway. "I'm sure our patrol will retrieve them promptly," he said.

"Tell me more about the ruins," she insisted, not allowing herself to be put off. "What makes them so dangerous?"

"They're cursed," someone murmured quietly, and frowning, Janeway looked over, trying to determine who had said that, but the room was too shadowed, the only illumination coming from the screens dotting the walls.

Tarm also frowned. "Captain, I will admit that certain of our people have superstitions surrounding this site, but the real danger lies in the animals which inhabit the area."

"Animals?" Janeway echoed.

"Monsters," someone else muttered almost inaudibly from the shadows.

"There's been a history of people ... disappearing," Tarm admitted heavily. Then he shook his head, as if trying to shake off bad thoughts. "I'm sure our people were just looking it over, and the reason they're late is that they've broken down on the return trip. They wouldn't have ... gone inside."

Janeway stared at him, then abruptly turned away, seeking out her remaining two crewmen. Until the patrol got to site, there wasn't really anything more to say, and she was tired of Tarm trying to reassure her when it was clear, by the look in his eyes, that he was badly frightened for some reason.

She felt Seven's presence bracket her on one side even as Lt. Ara moved to her other, the pair of women surrounding her as if in an attempt to protect her, though from what, she didn't know. They waited with stone faces and dark gazes as the patrol traveled the rugged road for several kilometers before the ruins finally came in sight. The patrol truck bounced to a stop in what appeared to be some kind of clearing, and Janeway was dismayed to see the land speeder sitting motionless in the center, apparently abandoned.

The view jiggled as the camera operator got out of the patrol vehicle, and along with other Meuranato soldiers, approached the quiescent vehicle cautiously. There were dark stains over the side of the speeder, and one of the soldiers held a light on it. It was a dark blue, drying to a dusty navy, unrecognizable to the Federation women. Then Janeway saw the other stain.

It was red, drying to a deep rust on the metal, and Voyager's captain knew suddenly that this was very, very bad.

Seven's breath caught as she saw the blood stains on the vehicle, and she could sense Janeway tensing beside her. Obviously, someone had been injured, but that did not explain why there was no one near the vehicle. Her eyes followed the unsteady feed as the soldier moved the camera down to the ground, their portable lights sending shadows across the screen, and making it difficult to see what was going on.

There were lumps under the speeder, and Seven squinted, trying to make out what they were. There were gasps of horror around her as the first mound was identified; the torn and bloody body of a Meuranato female, her abdomen laid open with the internal organs spilling out in a bluish explosion of tissue. The soldier bent down, playing his light over the features which held a terrified, astounded look, and Seven recognized Darnat, the Meuranato guide who had been assigned to Ensign Briggs. The security officer was not much farther away, his body crumpled half under the speeder which he had almost reached before collapsing.

"Patrol One to base," the voice crackled over the speakers. "The tracks lead further into the ruins, and past the entrance. I'm sorry. The rest have gone inside."

A wave of grief and despair swept over the room then, as on the viewscreen, Seven could see the soldiers begin to retreat, gathering up the pitiful remains of the corpses, wrapping them in tarpaulins, and placing them in the speeder before a soldier took the helm and both vehicles vacated the area. Uncomprehendingly, Seven looked around as the Meuranato wept dryly, and her eyes intersected with the captain's. There was a flame in those blue-grey depths that told the Borg her partner was furious.

"Aren't you going to search further?" Janeway said, every word bitten off with outrage.

"It wouldn't do any good," Tarm said, choking on his sobs. "They've gone into Sanzzibar. There is no hope."

"What?" Janeway grabbed Tarm by the arms, and stared up into his face. "Tell me what's going on here."

"The Ruins of Sanzzibar are forbidden," he said. "They are filled with monsters and demons created to protect the Crystal of Being. It is certain death to go into the city itself."

"Monsters and demons?" Janeway asked, not understanding.

"Created by the wizards centuries ago," he said and Seven thought he might be babbling. None of what he was saying made sense in this technologically advanced civilization. It spoke of superstition and fairy tales, the stuff of illusion designed to keep primitive minds fearful. "Anyone who enters the ruins once darkness has fallen never returns. All our people know this, but only we of the government know why. It is because the Crystal of Being remains buried in its depths surrounded by its protectors."

"So you're not even going to look for them?" Ara asked with cold disbelief.

"That would only be sending others to their deaths," Tarm said, his shoulders hunched in defeat. "It would be futile."

Janeway got that expression on her face that Seven had learned to recognize; one of absolute determination. It was probably the word 'futile' she thought. Janeway never liked that word no matter who it came from, be it the Borg or an obviously terrified Meuranato.

"I don't believe that," the captain said flatly. "If you're not going in there to look for them, then I will."

He looked at the captain. "Don't you understand? They're dead. They're already dead," he said helplessly.

"Until I see the bodies, I don't agree," she said. "Now, is there anyone who can guide us into the ruins?"

He stared at her with disbelief. "No one who has gone beyond the main entrance has ever returned. It's suicide."

"I prefer to think of it as not surrendering," Janeway said. She raised her head. "Will the Meuranato government grant us permission to search ourselves?"

His gaze faltered. "We won't ... refuse you the right to kill yourselves," he said finally.

"That's all I can ask," Janeway said dryly.

She released him, and turned to the other women. "Looks like it's up to us," she said firmly.

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "It would be prudent to request assistance from the ship," she recommended.

"My thoughts exactly," Janeway said, striding briskly from the room. She was no longer interested in negotiations or treaties. Her crewmembers were in trouble, and the captain of Voyager was ready to move heaven and earth to bring them safely home.

The bulky form of a Meuranato male stepped out into their path, and Seven recognized Trell who had been Harry's escort until this morning. His eyes were dark as he looked at them.

"I will guide you," he said simply.

Janeway stared at him challengingly. "Why?" she asked. "Aren't you afraid of the monsters?"

He made a face. "I grew up around the ruins," he said. "The danger is great, but there are no monsters ... just genetically altered creatures let loose to roam its tunnels. Even now, Tarm tries to push superstition rather than admit to the truth; that the government set all this up five hundred years ago to keep the crystal from falling into the wrong hands. Margus found out about the crystal from her research in the archives. She probably thought that your people would have the technology to counter the animals."

"So Margus set this up?" Janeway asked.

He shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me," he said. "She's always been impetuous, and does things on the spur of the moment. You can't reason with her when she gets an idea into her head. If she saw an opportunity to go into Sanzzibar, she'd take it. Possibly that's why she arranged to have me removed from the team. She knew I would oppose the idea."

Seven saw Janeway hesitate, obviously thinking it over, then nod once. "Fine," the captain said. "You can guide us."

She slapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager," she said.

"Voyager here," came the reply. It was Commander Chakotay, the ship's first officer, speaking this time. "Captain, is something wrong?"

"Yes," Janeway replied shortly. "I want a bio-sensor sweep done of the area surrounding the coordinates we retrieved from you earlier."

"Stand by," Chakotay said. There was a pause, and when he finally came back, his voice was puzzled. "Nothing, Captain."

"No sign of our people?" Janeway responded, the disappointment evident in her tone.

"No, I mean there is absolutely no lifeforms at all in the area," he explained. "We should be picking up something, insects if nothing else, but it's almost as if there's a bio-dampening field on the area."

Janeway nodded as if this did not surprise her much. "Chakotay, we've lost Harry, B'Elanna and Neelix in that area," she said. "I want you to outfit a full security detail, and beam them directly to the coordinates, along with Lt. Ara, Seven, myself and one Meuranato native guide. We're going to have to look for our people on foot, and we can expect to encounter a hostile environment."

Chakotay hesitated, as if he wanted to argue. When he finally spoke, it was in a resigned sort of tone. "Understood," he said. "Tuvok is getting the team together now. We'll beam you to the coordinates in fifteen minutes."

"It would be wiser to wait for sunrise," Trell said.

"We can't wait that long," Janeway replied shortly. "Neither can our people."

Trell hesitated, then nodded. "I'll be back," he said and disappeared.

"Be here in fifteen minutes, or we leave without you," Janeway shouted after him.

Seven crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling uneasy. This was happening very quickly, and she didn't like when things were uncertain or unexpected. She prefered a clear-cut plan of tactics, not this impulsive leap into action. Still, she knew her friends were in trouble, and that they needed help. Nothing else mattered, and though the talk of monsters and genetically altered creatures confused her, it would not deter her. The strange sculpture of the fountain in the plaza threaded across her mind, however, and it occurred to her that perhaps it was indeed imagination which created the creature after all, though first it had been given flesh before being immortalized in stone.

The next fifteen minutes seemed to crawl by as the women waited with ill concealed impatience, not speaking to each other. Janeway stood, her arms across her chest, a frown of immense proportions on her face, her eyes a dark and stormy grey. Seven wanted to reach out and touch her, to gain some sort of physical comfort from her, but the expression let the Borg know that such a gesture would not be welcomed at the moment. Then Seven heard the pounding of footsteps, and realized Trell was rejoining them, just as a hum surrounded them with the unmistakable sensation of being transported. The snowy marble walls of the government complex disappeared to be replaced by the sounds and smells of jungle and the night. Around them, the brooding shadows of trees seemed as a warning of sorts as they rematerialized in the grassy clearing.

Six other beings also appeared, the security detail outfitted in Starfleet combat uniforms, packs on their backs, compression rifles held at the ready. The dark form of Tuvok stepped toward the women, and offered some equipment to the captain who took it, shrugging out of her tunic to put on the heavier jacket, pulling a pack onto her back and accepting the phaser rifle.  The weapon was outfitted with a targeting sensor, and she hefted it grimly, a dark expression in her eyes.

There were also packs and rifles for Ara and Seven, and while Voyager's security chief did not have a weapon for Trell, Seven saw that he didn't need it, having outfitted himself in those fifteen minutes somehow. The Meuranato was now garbed in tan trousers while his massive scaled chest was left bare, but for crisscrossing leather bands. Two machetes were tucked into sheaths against his sides, heavy disruptor pistols lay heavy on his hips, and he hefted a device that looked very much like a projectile launcher.

Seven wondered what exactly he was expecting to face ... and how worried she should be at this point.

"Trell?" Janeway said, not wasting any words.

He nodded. "They've gone through the entrance," he said grimly. "The thing to remember is that this is an artificial environment, and that the creatures cannot exist outside of it. They were designed to operate in the dark, and to kill whoever attempts to get to the Crystal of Being. The closer we get to where it is, the more deadly the animals will be."

"But they can be killed?" Ara asked, caressing her rifle.

"Yes," Trell told her. "However, it isn't easy. Our only advantage is with your lights. They seem to operate on a spectrum that is harmful to the eyes. Even I cannot stand to look at them for very long."

"They are Earth normal," Seven noted quietly. "With a blue white spectrum which this system's star does not emanate."

Janeway glanced at her, and nodded approvingly. "We'll take every advantage we can get at this point," she said. "Everyone, full lights and keep the spare battery packs nearby." She motioned with her head, a sharp jerk to the side. "Lead on, Trell."

The Meuranato dipped his head in that odd half bow his people had, and strode confidently toward the entrance which was marked by the ruins of a gate. Seven noted carvings in the rubble, perhaps a warning to others that this was a restricted area. So much of this did not make any sense, and she longed for a spare moment to sit down and figure it out, but it was obvious she wasn't going to get that moment anytime soon.

They had barely stepped through the gate when shadows flowed from the rubble rising high around them, quicksilver forms that darted away when ever a beam from the team's wrist lights passed over them, yet continuing to advance steadily closer.

"Form up," Tuvok snapped and instantly the security detail, including Lt. Ara, was in a circle, back to back, rifles and lights pointed out, the captain and Seven finding themselves in the center of a protective Starfleet wall. "Fire at will."

Beams of ruby light singed the air as they impacted with the blurs of black, the high pitch of phaser fire underscored by mewing cries from the animals who broke off quickly and disappeared back into the rubble. Seven knew what that meant ... obviously the creatures had encountered phaser fire before, and knew exactly what the consequences of it were.

"The opening to the lower levels is down here," Trell said, motioning to an ornately carved entrance in a sheer stone wall.

Frowning, Janeway lifted her rifle and followed, Seven on her right flank, Tuvok on her left, Ara bringing up her immediate rear. The rest of the team spread out, moving alertly, ready for any hint of danger.

Seven's heart was pounding, and she made an effort to slow her circulatory system, aware that this was only the beginning and  things would progressively become more difficult from here. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the musky atmosphere as they descended down a stone ramp to what seemed to be a cavern of some sort. In all directions, the black entrances of tunnels loomed, uninviting, with a dank breeze blowing from some, while others boasted air as dead and still as a tomb.

Trell glanced over his shoulder.

"There are many booby traps and pitfalls," he said. "Watch where you walk."

"This just gets better and better," Ara muttered behind them.

Seven looked around to identify who else was there. Off to the side, the usually talkative, blue-skinned Bolian known as Crell ... because his real name was unpronounceable by most of Voyager's crewmembers ... walked slowly, testing every step as just behind him, the bulky ex-Maquis, Hickman covered the rear. Seven realized that this was Tuvok's 'beta squad', the best security detail the Vulcan had, and did not have to look further to identify the other three members; Davis, Varian and Ryan.

Seven felt marginally better about things.

Right up until the moment Ara stepped on a piece of ground that both Trell and Janeway had passed over, and fell through a chute that abruptly appeared beneath her feet, disappearing into the depths below.

B'Elanna Torres lay in the dust of a dank and rancid tunnel, and knew she was about to die. As a Klingon, she was not particularly afraid of dying, but it pissed her off to know she was going to do it here in a pit just because she had been a little bored with the historical tour. Of all the ways she could have expired in the Delta Quadrant, this seemed the silliest.

When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut? she thought grimly, staring down at her leg which had been broken when she had fallen down a chute. She had crawled this far before deciding that it was a fairly pointless exercise, not to mention an excruciatingly painful one. She had no idea which way to go, which direction led to an exit. She didn't even know where anybody else from her team was. She was completely and utterly alone.

When they had landed the speeder in the clearing, all had seemed fairly peaceful, and they had crossed the grassy meadow in anticipation of a small adventure. Then they walked through the gate, and things became entirely too adventurous by half. Armed with only hand phasers, the team could not prevent the slinky black forms from herding them deeper into the ruins, the creatures deadly quickness making it difficult to draw a bead on them. Darnat had tried to break away, dashing back toward the gate with Briggs close behind, but the black things got to them before reaching it, ripping them open. They managed to stagger beyond the invisible barrier and collapse in bloody heaps near the land speeder, suddenly free of the black things which went no further than the rubble marking the gate, but it had done the pair little good. The wounds which struck them down were clearly of the mortal kind, brutal and final.

In truth, the rest were lucky to have survived that first attack, and they stumbled into the shelter of an entrance of some sort, the ramp leading down into the depths of the ruined city. Before they had gotten very far, however, they were attacked again, this time by reddish things that flew on leathery wings, darting at them from above, scattering the frightened intruders into different directions. The Starfleet officers had tried to fight back, had tried to form a defensive position, but the onslaught was too great, and they fled before the swarming mass of fangs and claws. B'Elanna had found herself stumbling through corridor after corridor until she stepped on what she was sure had been solid ground only to plummet down a level or two to crash hard on an unforgiving surface, her right leg snapping instantly.

With all the things I've been through, she mused, propping her back against the tunnel wall and cradling her light and phaser on her lap, this is a damned stupid way to die. Chased by bats and eaten by Kahless knew what else. She had checked her communicator repeatedly, but it did not work, offering not so much as a chirp to indicate an empty channel, and it was with fatalistic annoyance that she noted the energy level on her phaser was down to a quarter.

Eventually, the things which inhabited this place, a variety of the most horrid sort of creatures, would overwhelm her by sheer weight of numbers. She wondered wistfully if anyone would ever scream for her, would howl to Sto-Vo-Kor that a warrior was on her way. Even if it was a warrior who was going down while crawling on the ground like a bug. Eaten no doubt, by bugs. She shivered as she heard the rustle of many legs just outside the circle of her wrist lamp, having seen the fist-sized creatures skitter just beyond the beam of her light, the mandibles clicking obscenely together in the shadows, the large pincers designed for tearing flesh from bone.

Maybe Seven would howl for her, B'Elanna decided, trying to gather her courage. The Borg had turned out to be a good friend, someone she could rely on, and if the blonde never realized how much the Klingon wanted her, then that was only for the best. It was obvious that Seven shared something with Janeway that was beyond anything B'Elanna had ever experienced before, and just to be allowed on the outside of it, to be around them, able in some small way to feel the warmth radiate from their love, was something that the Klingon felt privileged to have been a part of.

She checked the reading on her phaser again, noting that there was enough for ten or fifteen more shots before it would become just so much scrap metal. She wondered if she shouldn't use the remaining power for the lamp instead, because unquestionably, it was keeping her alive more so than any killing she might have managed. The creatures tended to swarm when they attacked, and the only way to escape was by running into another creature's territory. Except, of course, the next group of animals were usually much worse.

Perhaps she should use the phaser for a more personal application she thought wearily. Just raise the setting all the way and turn it on herself. Suicide was an acceptable form of death if it was done honorably. The problem was, she didn't think wanting to escape being eaten by bugs was a particularly grandiose sort of death. She guessed she should probably just let the bugs eat her as she thrashed and fought to her last breath. That would be properly Klingon enough.

She bowed her head, closing her eyes. It occurred to her that she didn't particularly want to be Klingon anymore. Embracing that path had provided her with no more peace than attempting to follow her Human sensibilities. She was still alone, still lonely, still on the outside looking in. She realized that more than anything else, she just wanted to be her, whoever that might be, even as she had no clue how to find that person. Now it seemed she would never have the chance.

Tears stung the back of her eyes and angrily, she blinked them back. Human or Klingon, she'd be damned if she spend her last few moments bawling like a baby. She took a few deep breaths, fighting back the sobs of fear and frustration that filled her chest, then grasped the phaser once more. One shot, she thought. She'd save the last shot for herself. Otherwise, she'd fight until the second last shot.

A reasonable compromise, she decided. Seven would be proud.

A noise made her raise her head, and her heart began to pound, sending tendrils of pain throbbing through her leg. Then, there was another sound, that of something large approaching her from down the corridor. Frightened, she lifted the light, pointing it down one way before remembering that sound was altered in these tunnels. What she thought could be coming from one direction could actually be coming in another, and she twisted frantically, swinging the light around defensively. Then, another light seared into her eyes and blinking, she raised her hand to shield them, her breath a sob in her throat.

"You're not looking too good, Lt. Torres," the unexpected, but most welcome voice of Lt. Ara Lerona said calmly from the shadows.

"I've felt better, Lt. Ara," B'Elanna managed to respond evenly, not allowing the blessed relief and joy to show through.

"I'll bet," the Bajoran woman said, kneeling down beside the Klingon, examining the protruding bone and bloody wound in her right leg. "I'm guessing that hurts a little bit."

"I wouldn't recommend it," B'Elanna admitted. She let out her breath slowly in an almost sigh as she watched Ara remove the pack from her back, and fish out a tricorder along with a bone knitter and a dermal regenerator. "Are you alone?"

"Not to begin with," Ara admitted in the sort of voice that let B'Elanna know the cool woman was somewhat embarrassed by it. "I fell down a chute. I'll be damned if I know how it happened however. I saw the captain stepping exactly where Trell was stepping, and I stepped where she stepped, yet a hole just opened up beneath me and swallowed me whole."

"That happened to me too," B'Elanna said as Ara cut away the Klingon's pant leg.

Ara met her eyes. "This is going to hurt," she warned.

"It already does," the Klingon admitted stiffly.

Ara nodded and with a decisive movement, yanked on the limb, setting the bone back in place with a click that echoed nauseatingly in the still air. B'Elanna didn't pass out, not quite, but for long moments the world around her spun alarmingly, and she had to swallow back the vomit which rose in her throat. When she came around, Ara had begun to run the bone knitter over the wound. The young woman let her breath out with a hiss, the abrupt healing sending tendrils of fire up and down her leg, though it was far less painful than setting it had been.

"Sorry," Ara murmured. "They don't add painkillers in this pack ... at least, not any that would work on a Klingon/Human hybrid. I can give you plenty of antibiotics."

"It's okay," B'Elanna said through gritted teeth as the Bajoran injected her with a hypospray. "I can take it."

"Where are the others?" Ara asked.

"I don't know," Torres replied. "We were separated."

"I think that's easy to do in these tunnels," Ara allowed quietly. "In fact, I think they're designed that way." She finished off the repairs and snapped off the devices, replacing them carefully in the pack. "How's it feel?"

Gingerly, B'Elanna flexed her leg, relieved when it seemed to move easily. "A lot better," she said. "I think I might even be able to walk on it."

"No need," Ara responded, putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her down. "We have to stay right where we are."

B'Elanna frowned. "We should find the captain and the rest," she said.

"The captain has beta squad to look after her, not to mention her pet Borg," Ara said firmly, sitting down across from B'Elanna, leaning up against the tunnel wall as she rested her compression rifle across her lap. "They're on the move and if we start moving around too, that only increases the chances of missing each other. If we stay in one place, it'll be easier for them to find us."

B'Elanna didn't like it, but she had to give in to the logic of it. She shot a sharp look at Ara however.

"Seven isn't the captain's 'pet Borg'," she said coldly. "She's her wife."

Ara held up her hands. "No disrespect intended," she said evenly.

"Nonetheless, disrespect was implied," B'Elanna returned with a hint of a snarl.

Ara stared at her a moment, then nodded. "Okay," she allowed. "You're right, it was ... uncalled for. I withdraw it. Besides, I'm growing to like Seven the more I get to know her."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled," B'Elanna drawled.

Ara laughed, a sharp bark. "You never liked me, did you, Torres?" she said.

B'Elanna blinked, considered it carefully. "I never knew you," she said finally. "Not even when we were in the Maquis together. You kept to yourself, and the rest of us tried to respect that."

Ara nodded. "Fair enough," she said.

There was a pause as B'Elanna studied her. "I do know you were Starfleet once," she commented finally.

Ara tensed and B'Elanna thought she saw the woman go pale.

"What makes you say that?" the Bajoran said in a voice that was almost ... but not quite ... matter of fact.

B'Elanna quirked her eyebrow. "The way you carry yourself," she said slowly, interest threading through her as her ears perked up at the possible hint of something juicy. "The way you said things sometimes. Certain ways of doing things that only comes if you've trained at the Academy. Chakotay noticed it too, but we didn't pry. We figured you had a good reason for keeping it to yourself."

"I did," Ara responded shortly.

B'Elanna inhaled. It was none of her business really, but that aggravating little part of her, that nosey, inquisitive need to know everything that was going on around her ... particularly if it was secretive ... prompted her to pursue it since she had the chance. After all, she decided, they weren't in the Maquis anymore, and they had to pass the time in some way while waiting for the captain.

"I guess we figured you were AWOL," B'Elanna offered casually. It hit the mark, she saw, the other woman flinching slightly. At that particular moment, for no particular reason, it suddenly struck B'Elanna that Ara was an amazingly attractive woman, though she tended to hide it most of the time behind a sullen wall of reserve that kept people from getting too close.

When Ara didn't answer, B'Elanna tilted her head slightly. "You never resigned your commission, did you?" she prodded gently.

Ara hesitated, finally dipped her head in a nod. "No," she admitted. Her face twisted slightly. "I'm a traitor. All I had to do was stand in front of the man who gave me a second chance and tell him to his face that I had to leave Starfleet but I couldn't do it. So I just ... joined the Maquis without ever being officially discharged."

"I don't know that it matters much any more," B'Elanna said. "Ara Lerona isn't your real name, is it?"

"No," Ara said. "It isn't. What difference does it make now?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "None, I guess," she said. She hesitated, thinking about it. "Maybe it's time we all let go of the past." She shook her head. "God knows, Captain Janeway has given us all more than our share of second chances. I know she'd give you one as well."

Ara shook her head. "Janeway's too Starfleet," she argued. "Her father was an Admiral, after all. It's one thing to give you and Chakotay a place in her senior staff. Or to even give Admiral Paris's son a second chance. None of you wore the uniform when you signed on with the Maquis. I never took it off and so ... I disgraced it."

"Is that how you think Janeway would see it?" B'Elanna asked curiously. "Or how you see it?"

Ara stared at her. "You don't know anything," she said flatly.

"You're right, I don't," B'Elanna agreed readily. She hesitated. "So why don't you tell me."

The was a silence and the Klingon could see the struggle going on behind those dark eyes, the secrecy that the woman had lived with for all these years, denying who she was and what she had been, hiding in the darkness of deception and illusion ... and how it was too much to keep inside any longer. Their chances of getting out of here weren't exactly promising, and the hope of the future was marginal at best. Perhaps Ara thought she might possibly die and before she did, she needed to tell someone ... anyone ... what her story was.

B'Elanna assumed her most sympathetic and inviting expression, suspecting that whatever it was, it was going to be good. Somehow, having this interesting bit of information granted her before her possible termination made it a little easier to face, though she had no clue why that was.

Ara raised her head. "I suppose I should start at the beginning," she said.

"That would be good," B'Elanna agreed. "Like your name?"

Ara smiled then; a crooked small smile, devoid of humor.

"My name?"

She hesitated and B'Elanna leaned forward expectantly.

"My name is Ro."

"Lt. Ro Laren off the USS Enterprise."

"Lt. Ro Laren off the USS Enterprise."

Janeway held up her hand as she heard the voice of her missing security officer ahead, trying to determine its direction. They were standing at a juncture from which ten different corridors radiated, and while she could hear the words distinctly, she had yet to decide which tunnel it was coming from. Behind her, the security detail remained motionless and silent, awaiting her next order.

It had caused considerable consternation when Ara had abruptly disappeared, particularly when the tunnel floor had closed up behind her as if there had never been any sort of opening at all. Then, they had been set upon by some sort of flying creatures which whirled and lunged at them, fangs glistening with some form of venom that none of the Federation members wanted to examine too closely. They had fled in an organized fashion, firing their rifles as they fought their way into a promising looking corridor. Since then, however, they had encountered one aggressive species after another, and it was possible that it was only their lights keeping them alive, though none of the away team had emerged unscathed from the nightmare journey.

Hickman was limping while Varian favored his left arm. Davis had a cut over his eye, and Ryan winced every time she moved her neck a certain way. Even Seven had various scrapes and bruises from the running battles they had fought with the various denizens of the tunnels. Tuvok was too Vulcan to show how much the blow to his ribs was undoubtedly hurting him, and Trell matched him in impassiveness, even though his torso was crisscrossed with blue lines where blood still trickled. The captain herself was feeling considerably battered, and wishing she had never heard of this misbegotten planet, or the Meuranato.

"Never heard of you."

Despite the situation, Janeway smiled. The voice was unmistakably her chief engineer's. Chalk one up for Lt. Ara. Apparently the security officer was a lot better at finding their lost sheep than the rest of them had been. Then, Janeway realized what they were talking about, and her smile turned into a frown as she listened intently, turning her head back and forth slightly as she advanced slowly in the direction in which she thought the conversation originated.

"I was one of the few Bajorans who served in Starfleet at the time," Ara ... Ro? ... said. "When it was discovered that a rogue band of my planet's people were reportedly attacking Cardassian ships, they called on the current treaty for the Federation to help find and stop them. The Enterprise was dispatched to solve the problem, and I was yanked out of prison to assist."

"Just like Tom Paris," B'Elanna noted brightly. "Can't Starfleet do anything without calling on their convicts?"

There was a pause, then a small laugh from a throat that rarely laughed, the chuckle rusty and uncertain, as if unsure this was what it was supposed to sound like.

"I was posted to the helm, too," Ro Laren responded which provoked a laugh from B'Elanna in return and for a few moments, there was nothing but helpless giggles wafting down the corridor, a sort of nervous laughter rising from too much stress in too short of time.

"So why were you in prison?" B'Elanna asked finally.

"I disobeyed orders," Ro said. "While on the Wellington. Eight members of my away team died. I was court martialed."

B'Elanna let out an audible sigh. "That happens sometimes," she offered empathetically, if a bit lamely.

Janeway inhaled slowly and glanced back at the rest of her team. Seven looked bemused, as if she wasn't sure if she should be listening to this, while Tuvok had an odd expression shade across his face. The captain's gaze pinned on his and suddenly, there was no question in Janeway's mind that the Vulcan knew exactly what the two women were talking about ... and that he had known for some time.

She narrowed her eyes, and he quirked an eyebrow at her as if to ask what she expected him to do? Run to her with every little revelation he discovered in the course of carrying out his duties?

She frowned and turned her attention back to the conversation.

"In any event, when it was all over, Captain Picard gave me an opportunity to serve with him," Ro continued. Her voice turned wistful. "I guess he thought I could be a good officer after all. It was the best time of my life, and when he personally sponsored me for advanced tactical training at Starfleet Command, I couldn't imagine being any more proud."

"What happened?" B'Elanna asked curiously.

"My first mission after being promoted to Lieutenant and returning to the Enterprise was to infiltrate a Maquis cell," Ro said and her voice grew quiet, almost dead. "There was a man ... he reminded me of my father. When he was killed ...." she paused as if having difficulty continuing. "I needed to help fight the Cardassians. I told Commander Riker that I was staying and to ... thank Picard for all he had done. It was gutless. Picard wouldn't have stopped me from doing what I thought was right."

"He would have tried to talk you out of it, however," B'Elanna offered gently.

"Yes," Ro agreed softly. "Maybe that's what I was afraid of. That he would succeed. I decided not to go back, and that's why I didn't officially resign my commission. I was too afraid to face the disappointment in his eyes."

"That was a long time ago," B'Elanna said sympathetically.

"Not that long," Ro said sadly. "I bounced around the various Maquis cells for a time, changed my name a little so no one would connect me with the Enterprise. Ara is my mother's maiden name. Lerona is simply Ro Laren scrambled a bit."

"I guessed that," B'Elanna said. "It couldn't have been easy living with this secret for so long. No one knew?"

There was a pause. "Actually, Tuvok knows," Ro said. "He knew back when he first infiltrated the Maquis."

"How?" B'Elanna said in astonishment, as Janeway shot a hard look at the Vulcan.

"He was my tutor in the advanced tactical training course," Ro said. "He recognized me right away, of course but neither of us said anything to betray the other's cover. Sometimes I wonder if one of us had, would we have still ended up lost in the Delta Quadrant?"

There was a silence, and Janeway wondered if the engineer was speechless, something she had a great deal of empathy with at the moment. She couldn't believe that Tuvok had known they had a rogue Starfleet officer in their crew all this time and hadn't said anything.

What would you have done, Katie? her little voice mocked. Arrested her? Face it, you have a convict as your helmsman, a Maquis as your first officer, a hologram as your CMO and, god love us both, a Borg as your partner. Can you really mount your high horse at this point about any of your crew? Besides, just who the hell are you to be so judgmental anyway? Remember who got them all lost in the first place?

"Are you going to tell Janeway?" B'Elanna asked.

Ro hesitated. "Do you think I should?" she asked in a tentative, yet somewhat hopeful voice. "I've already let down one Starfleet captain. I don't know that I could survive letting down another."

Janeway's eyes met Seven's, seeing the empathy in the Borg's gaze, and the captain suddenly understood that no matter what her original knee jerk reaction was, Ara was too good an officer to throw away. Janeway firmed her jaw, knowing what she had to do.

"Then don't let me down," Janeway said strongly as she stepped into the tunnel where the two women were sitting opposite one another.

The Bajoran looked up in shock, her face a pale oval in the lights of the security team. Janeway walked over and knelt beside her before the officer could scramble to her feet.

"All I require from you is that you give me your best, all the time," Janeway said firmly, yet compassionately as she fixed her eyes on the woman's dark gaze. "I know your best should be more than good enough. Jean-Luc Picard isn't the sort to take on an officer unless he believed in her enough to give her a chance. I can do the same."

"Yes, ma--Captain," Ro said, her voice still edged with shock.

Janeway nodded briefly and looked over at B'Elanna who was being greeted by a hug from Seven, the Klingon lifted off the ground in the Borg's enthusiasm. "Glad to see you're still in one piece, Lieutenant," she said.

"Thank you, Captain," the engineer returned, blushing furiously as Seven finally released her. She glared at the Borg. "When did you become so demonstrative?"

"Since I discovered it embarrasses you," Seven responded honestly.

Despite the situation, Janeway laughed briefly, then held out her hand to help the still flustered Ara ... Ro Laren ... to her feet. I must remember to call her Lt. Ro from now on, Janeway thought. I think she's been without her true identity quite long enough.

"Captain," Tuvok said. "Perhaps we should take the opportunity to rest here. Our lights seem to be holding off any creatures for the time being, and my observation is that we are more likely to be attacked on the move than when we are still."

Janeway considered it, then nodded briefly. "Good idea," she said. "Three hours people, then we resume our search. Eat, rest, try to relax. God knows it'll only get harder from here."

The group spread out a bit, setting up lights at eight corners to provide a cube shaped haven of bright light in which they all huddled. Two of the security guards, Hickman and Ryan took first watch, each taking a different direction to monitor, while the rest took the time to heal wounds, gulp down a hasty bite of Starfleet rations, and try to relax a little. Janeway made a point of sitting down next to Tuvok who eyed her warily.

"Captain," he said politely.

Janeway unwrapped the foil from her ration bar, and took a bite, chewing slowly. Then she swallowed the crumbly dry sweetness and sipped some cool water from her canteen to wash it down before she glanced sideways at him.

"You knew all this time," she said, a statement, not a question.

He dipped his head. "The story you heard was indeed, accurate," he admitted.

"You kept it quiet," she said, trying not to sound wounded. Tuvok had served with her the longest, and she considered him a close and trusted friend beyond being just her chief of security. When he did something that might be seen as a form of betrayal, it bit deeper than in other circumstances, with other crewmembers.

"I am curious as to what difference you feel it would have made," he said evenly. "You offered all the Maquis an opportunity to serve as Voyager's crewmembers. You did not request that Commander Chakotay reveal his life story, nor Lt. Torres when you placed them in positions of authority. Why require Lt. Ro's when she began her time cleaning out plasma relays?"

Janeway rubbed her forehead fretfully. "She did start all over, didn't she?" she allowed. "I read her file ... or rather, Lt. Ara's. She worked her way up right from the lowest rank during that first year on Voyager."

"All that training could not be repressed forever," Tuvok noted. He glanced at her. "Is it truly that important that she did not resign her commission?" He hesitated. "In one way, by deciding to destroy the Caretaker's array, you also became absent without leave, choosing to follow a path here in the Delta Quadrant because you felt it was for the greater good."

Janeway blinked. "Ouch, Tuvok," she said quietly.

He looked faintly pleased that he had managed such a telling blow to her building outrage, deflating it with one decisive comment. "It was her place to tell you," he added quietly. "Not mine."

"She still didn't tell me," Janeway pointed out. "I eavesdropped."

Tuvok quirked his eyebrow. "Captain, she told B'Elanna, which was as good as telling Seven, who would have promptly told you," he said. He tilted his head slightly. "Everyone on the ship knows that. One might consider that as good as telling you face to face."

Janeway tried to stifle her grin, didn't quite manage it. "It would have made its way to me pretty quick," she admitted. She shook her head. "Tuvok, did the Doctor know? Ro's medical records would be in the database."

Tuvok considered it. "She undoubtedly walked in and said she was Maquis, Captain," he said slowly. "I suspect the Doctor would have simply created a new record for Ara Lerona, just as he did the other Maquis. There was no need for him to ever look for records pertaining to Lt. Ro Laren of the USS Enterprise, and the computer would never volunteer such records without a direct request."

She nodded. "You're right," she said. "I hadn't thought of that." She paused. "I need to go over her records now, however, particularly pertaining to the Wellington. I want to know more about that."

"So you may hold it against her?" he asked blandly.

She shot him a sharp look, then grinned ruefully. "No, Tuvok," she said. "So I can know more about who she is, why she would do the things she did and will do in the future. Just like any other member of my crew."

"Ah," he added noncommittedly.

"In any event, old friend," she said, patting him on the knee. "She was your problem before this, she's still your problem. I leave it in your capable hands."

"Thank you, Captain," he said, and there was a hint of suspicion in his tone as he looked at her narrowly. "Problem?"

She motioned with her head to where Ro, Seven and B'Elanna were deep in conversation.

"It looks like she's made some new friends," she said evenly. "We all know where that could lead. Three to worry about now rather than just two ... with advanced tactical training just added to the mix."

She tried not to laugh at the expression which suddenly crossed his face, despite his best Vulcan attempt to conceal it.

Seven of Nine glanced over and saw that Janeway had finished speaking with Tuvok. She felt somewhat detached from the conversation with B'Elanna and Ara ... with B'Elanna and Ro Laren ... and dazed, not only from this journey of constant attacks from the most vile sort of creatures, but also to discover that what she thought about some people was not at all what was the truth. She did understand deception to a certain degree, but to hide who one was for years? That baffled her, and made her head hurt when she tried to understand it. She was so much better with mathematical formulae than emotional connotations, she thought.

She got up and brushed the dirt from her trousers, drifting over to where Janeway was sitting, her back against the wall, gnawing patiently on a ration bar. The captain smiled faintly as Seven sat down in the place Tuvok had vacated when he moved over to check on the guards he had on watch.

"Hello darling," Janeway said in a low voice. "Still hanging in there?"

Yes," Seven allowed. She glanced over at the captain who returned the look with what seemed amusement. Seven realized that despite the danger, her partner actually enjoyed these sort of missions, or perhaps it was because of the danger. Janeway was worried for her people of course, but the threat of being killed was a source of inspiration to her, a challenge to face down the odds and defeat them thoroughly. It brought out the best from the compact woman who commanded Voyager, almost excited her in some strange fashion, and the thought crossed Seven's mind that once the mission was over, assuming it was successful, and they returned to the ship, she could expect Janeway to leap on her in their quarters with all the subtlety of a moose in heat.

Not that she minded, of course, but given her druthers, Seven much preferred her missions to remain in high tech areas rather than in a dusty, cobwebbed network of tunnels filled with genetically altered creatures bent on ripping her apart.

"Surprising bit of information on Lt. Ro," Janeway added casually.

Seven pursed her lips. "She has been hiding her true self for a very long time," she offered thoughtfully. "It must have been very difficult for her."

"I'm sure it was," Janeway said, reaching over to pat her partner's hand. Her voice had softened, and there was a warm expression in her eyes. "You really do have the gentlest heart, Annika. To think I presumed to teach you about compassion."

"You did teach me about compassion," Seven protested. "I would not even understand the concept if not for you."

Janeway nodded. "Nonetheless," she said quietly. "You are far more compassionate than I am sometimes."

Seven blinked, and considered that. It was not something she had ever thought about before.

"Perhaps," she said uncertainly, not sure if she agreed with such a statement. She glanced at her partner inquiringly. "Do you think the others are still alive?"

Janeway sobered. "I don't know," she said. "However, I'm not giving up until either I've found them, or made sure they're dead." Seven knew she wouldn't. That glint in the captain's eyes was all too familiar to the Borg ... one of absolute determination and fortitude.

Seven sighed and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax. Her side ached where some kind of a cross between a feline and an alligator had slammed a paw into it, raking at her with its claws, which fortunately, had been absorbed by the padding of her vest. She had reached out and clubbed it down with her Borg enhanced left hand, but the memory of how close it had come to disemboweling her made her feel a little weak inside, though she endeavored not to show it. It wasn't that she was afraid of death but at the moment, she had so much to live for ... most of which was compressed into that feminine form next to her ... that she was not particularly anxious to die either.

Beside her, Janeway pressed her knee against hers, snuggling against the Borg without giving the impression that was what she was doing to anyone who might be looking. Seven knew what she felt against her side, however, and accorded herself a moment to enjoy it, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to rest. She felt herself dozing off, and with an effort, brought herself awake with a jerk, sending a mental command through her cortical implant to release stimulating nanoprobes throughout her system to combat the fatigue. Almost immediately, she was completely awake, fully alert, and she wondered if anyone noticed her brief lapse.

"Are you all right?" Janeway asked in a low tone.

"Yes," Seven said, then added quietly, "Captain."

She had surprised Janeway she saw, and at the smaller woman's inquiring look, Seven took a deep inhalation and decided that now was as good a time as any to tell her partner what had been on her mind.

"Captain, I believe I require an official rank," she said softly.

Janeway blinked, staring at her. "Beyond what you have now?" she responded in a puzzled tone.

"I have none now," Seven pointed out. "Sometimes people listen to what I say and other times, they do not and in either case, I am unsure which is proper. I have come to the conclusion that I no longer wish to remain outside your chain of command."

Janeway let her breath out slowly. "I see," she said. "This is a switch. I thought you didn't like the chain of command. You find it lacking, I believe."

"It is," Seven admitted. "Compared to the efficiency of the Collective. However, if I am expected to function as a part of this crew, I find that it is even more inefficient to remain outside of it."

Janeway nodded. "All right," she allowed carefully. "Did you have something in mind? Were you thinking about an actual Starfleet commission?"

"Would I have to wear the uniform?" Seven asked cautiously.

Janeway eyed her. "Certainly," she said. "Either you're in Starfleet or you're not."

Seven considered it. "Very well," she said. "Then I want a commission."

"It's not quite that easy, Seven," Janeway said dryly. "These aren't mints, you know. I just can't hand them out randomly."

Seven frowned. "Do you feel that I am unqualified to be in Starfleet?" she asked.

Janeway hesitated. "I don't know that I can answer that right at the moment," she admitted. "As far as your duties in astrometrics, as far as your performance to date, certainly you are technically qualified, but there's more to being in Starfleet than just being capable with technology. There are a host of other things that we simply haven't addressed."

"Such as?" Seven queried.

"A Starfleet officer must fulfill a lot of different roles, Seven," Janeway said seriously. "However, if you're truly determined to do this, then I suggest we start with some of the entrance exams for the Academy."

"Do you expect me to pursue the entire four year case load of a cadet?" Seven asked with surprise. "None of the Maquis did."

"No, but all the Maquis on the senior staff have Starfleet experience," Janeway said firmly. "Now I grant that some of Voyager's crew would not be able to pass the preliminary tests that determine if one is suited for becoming a member of Starfleet, but for you, it's different. I don't believe that you would want a commission unless you were prepared to uphold it completely, not just here but back in the Alpha Quadrant as well, if it comes to that."

"That is correct," Seven said tentatively.

Janeway dipped her head. "So if we do this, we do it right," she added calmly. "When you finally do put on that uniform, it won't be a matter of convenience, it will be a matter of it being the right path for you. I won't let you accept anything less. If I did, not only would I be failing you as your captain, I'd be failing you as your spouse. I want the best for you, Seven, as well as your best for Starfleet. Do you understand?"

"I believe so," Seven said. "I want to do my best."

"I'll talk to Chakotay and Tuvok when we get back to Voyager," Janeway said. "Together, we'll work out how we have to do this. Agreed?"

"Yes," Seven said faintly.

The Borg, who only really wanted to know when she could order people around and when she couldn't, abruptly realized that she had just stepped into something a whole lot bigger than what she had anticipated. However, she had no intention of disappointing the woman sitting beside her, and a determination to be the best Starfleet officer possible began to fill her with resolve.

Along with more than a little apprehension.

She frowned faintly as she considered the ramifications, the knowledge that she was about to embark on a procedure that might have life-altering consequences. She knew how much Starfleet meant to her wife, how Janeway's father who had reached such lofty heights in the organization, had held such a profound and predominant influence on the woman. Seven wondered if she too would be influenced by this.

She thought about it further. In truth, her current existence was already unduly influenced by Starfleet, having been removed from the Borg by a representation of that very organization. Janeway may say things to the effect that she always saw something special in Seven, but the young woman knew it was the captain's ethical standards, reinforced by her career, which determined that the drone which she had severed from the Collective should be kept rather than simply discarded as many others would have. Not that Seven regretted any of that, but she knew that Starfleet demanded a great deal of its members, and she wondered if she would fit in.

She felt a nudge at her side, and she looked down into the beloved features of her spouse.

"Are you all right?" Janeway asked keenly. "Second thoughts?"

"No, Captain," Seven said firmly. "I am prepared to become a fully functional member of Starfleet."

Janeway held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, a decidedly pleased expression on her face. "I want you to know, this means a great deal to me, darling," she said, lowering her voice. "Starfleet is a very important part of my life, and always has been. For you to want to follow that path as well makes me very proud."

Seven was warmed all the way through. "Kathryn," she said quietly. "You have been an inspiration to me from the beginning. I believe it is natural for me to want to share this part of you, and perhaps, it shall help me understand you even better."

Janeway grinned wryly. "That may be a side effect we both have to live with," she said oddly, and Seven stared, not understanding. Janeway's smile grew a bit sad. "I would hate to think you would turn into another me who puts career first and personal life second."

Seven shook her head.

"That shall never happen," she said firmly. "You are the most important thing in my life. You always will be no matter what."

Janeway offered her that soft expression, the one of shy, wistful pleasure.

"I would kiss you right now," she murmured. "If it weren't so completely unprofessional."

Seven smiled faintly.

"You must restrain such impulses for when we return to the ship," she noted. "Then you may indulge them fully."

The blue grey eyes shaded to sapphire. "Will you indulge them?" Janeway asked huskily.

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "Of course," she said.

B'Elanna Torres watched Ro Laren surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, surprised at the odd feelings that were stirring inside of her. It was as if by unburdening herself of her secret, the Bajoran had stepped into the light after existing the past six years only in shadow and darkness, and the Klingon could see her clearly now for the first time. As the unseen weight was lifted off her shoulders, the real woman who lay beneath was now returning to life.

She discovered that Ro Laren was beautiful, moving with competent deadliness and a commanding presence.

B'Elanna had no clue where this was coming from. After all, she had practically forgotten the woman had existed during their stint on Voyager, after surrendering her life in the Maquis to Janeway and Starfleet. Now that Ro's true colors were revealed, however, the Bajoran was no longer hiding the ease with which she could handle herself, a cross of sorts between Seven's efficiency and Janeway's firm sense of knowing exactly what to do and when. It was ... astounding.

B'Elanna didn't realize she had been staring until Ro's dark eyes met hers, pinning her in place. The Klingon blushed faintly, then blushed even more because she had been caught blushing.

"Do you need something?" Ro asked.

"No," B'Elanna mumbled. "I just ... I wanted to thank you for fixing my leg."

Ro seemed ready to pass it off as simply doing her duty,but she hesitated, observing B'Elanna closely and nodded instead. "You're welcome," she said.

B'Elanna took a breath, unable to hold that dark gaze, looking over instead, to where Janeway and Seven were deep in discussion. Even while on a mission, in the middle of a pit, the love of the two women seemed to radiate with its own unique glow. Janeway had her hand on Seven's thigh with such complete unselfconsciousness that the engineer suspected the captain wasn't even aware of what she was doing. Seven in turn, was leaning into Janeway, slightly over her as if to protect her, their faces mere centimeters apart as they spoke intently.

"They really do love each other," Ro remarked, having followed the Klingon's gaze.

"Yes," B'Elanna said, unaware that her voice held a note of longing that was impossible to conceal even though she thought she had.

Ro quirked an eyebrow, looking at the engineer with sudden bemusement.

"What is it you're envious of?" she said casually. "One of them? Or just what they have."

Startled, B'Elanna glared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about," she growled warningly.

Ro drew back a little, lifting a hand defensively.

"Just curious," she said with a half grin.

"Lt. Ro," Tuvok said from where he and Lt. Davis were kneeling over a padd balanced on the Vulcan's knee. He used the woman's name naturally, as if he had always been using it, and B'Elanna wondered as the Bajoran moved away from her if it was just his Vulcan nature, or his prior knowledge which allowed him to adapt easily to the new reality. The Klingon was probably going to continue to call the security officer 'Ara' for a good long time.

B'Elanna noticed that Janeway was rising to her feet, along with Seven, and she realized that the brief rest period was over. She didn't mind. The sooner they were on the move, they sooner they would find Harry and Neelix and get the hell out of here. She used the wall to help her get to her feet, her right leg not yet strong enough to support her easily, much to her chagrin. She was surprised when supportive arms slipped around her waist, and she looked around to find Janeway and Seven bracketing her between them, thinking perhaps that she had actually died and gone to heaven.

"Captain?"

"We need to let the security team do their job," Janeway explained. "Let's go."

Together, the three women stumbled forward in the protective center of the security team which surrounded them, the Federation team heading down the corridor, searching for the stairs which would take them down yet another level, ever deeper into the Ruins of Sanzzibar.

The next few hours were a sort of miserable parody of one of B'Elanna's Klingon holographic workout programs. Every corner they turned, they were set upon by yet another set of horrors; either small, vicious creatures which attacked in swarms or single, massive creatures which loomed in the tunnel and lunged at them with gaping jaws. The Klingon was profoundly grateful that the security team had come prepared, and expired rifle energy packs littered their wake like the breadcrumbs in the Hansel and Gretel story her father used to tell her when she was very young. Perhaps they too would mark their way home ... provided they could find their missing crewmembers and retrace their steps.

They were surprised when the tunnels abruptly opened into a large cavern. Trell turned back to the captain, and motioned with a thickly muscled, scaled arm.

"We've reached the lowermost level," he said. "If your people are not here, we must believe that they have been ... consumed."

"In that case, we'll go through every miserable creature, and make a thorough examination of their intestinal tract," Janeway said coldly.

B'Elanna was impressed. Sometimes she thought the captain would have made an excellent Klingon, though it never failed to surprise her when she heard such determined words coming from such a compact form. She was acutely aware of Seven on her right, carrying her easily with her Borg enhanced arm, hefting the rifle in the other with ease, her narrow features impassive. Seven, of course, would make an excellent Vulcan.

Then B'Elanna wondered why she was insisting on casting the two women into a light which was something other than who they really were? Her own sense of displacement, she decided. Betwixt and between, not truly understanding either; she was cursed with the darkness of her Klingon side, the passion and aggression constantly struggling with the light of her Human side which offered her a softness and need for gentleness that she did her best to conceal.  Or perhaps it was a blessing.  She thought at one point, when a Vidiian device split her into her two selves, that she had managed a sort of truce between her halves once she had been reformed, but in fact, all it did was allow her to recognize fully the contribution of her Klingon side, and it had been becoming more dominant ever since, despite her efforts to control it.

What would it take for her to achieve a happy medium, she wondered wistfully.

She decided suddenly that this mission was becoming entirely too introspective, and she sighed in relief as the captain and Seven lowered her to a boulder as the team took another break. B'Elanna watched as Janeway conferred with Trell and Tuvok while Seven examined her tricorder, attempting for the fifth time to make it work or at least, discover the reason why it wasn't.

A shadow fell over her and B'Elanna flinched briefly as she looked up, hoping she hadn't shown it . Ro Laren dropped to a crouch beside her, eyes flicking about the darkness beyond the haven of their lights, constantly scanning for danger.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm fine," B'Elanna growled, wondering why she was being so reactive to the woman. It seemed that even the most casual statement from the woman made her tense.

Ro nodded. "Good," she said. "I think it's about to get difficult."

B'Elanna couldn't help herself. She laughed and Ro glanced at her, offering a wry smile.

"I'll be ready," B'Elanna said, relaxing. She studied the woman, realizing that Ro was older than the Klingon, maybe even by as much as a decade. Of course, that would make sense. When Ro was going through tactical training, an inexperienced and lost B'Elanna was striking off on her own after leaving the Academy. That was well over six years ago and the Klingon wondered where the time had gone, slipping away from her somehow.

She wondered if Ro had been as alone as she had been all those years.

A faint sound drifted into her keen ears and she started. "Listen," she said abruptly.

Nearby, Seven was also rising to her feet, her head tilted slightly as the rest fell silent.

"Phaser fire," the Borg identified in her precise voice. "There."

B'Elanna was gathered up by the Borg as the rest hastened in the direction of the disturbance, trailing the sound of energy beams piercing the air which grew progressively louder. They found their remaining lost sheep in a makeshift shelter, an alcove of rock and debris which was being besieged by creatures which were mere shades; pale squares of tissue so translucent, one could see the internal organs pumping within. Their danger was evident by the desiccated corpse of the Meuranato guide, Larus, lying crumpled at the feet of Neelix who was firing two phasers, holding the creatures at bay.

B'Elanna was surprised to discover that the Talaxian appeared almost noble as he stood firm, the final defense against the threat which darted about him. Beyond him, Harry Kim moved feebly, injured badly while another Meuranato, Nouvat, seemed to be unconscious. Or perhaps he was dead as well.

The rescue team fell on the ghostlike creatures with a vengeance, the searing beams from their compression rifles making the beasts explode like rice paper in a candle flame, crashing to the dirt in smoking, flaming heaps. Neelix beamed as he saw the rest.

"Captain, I'm so glad to see you," he said brightly, as if they had all been on a stroll in the park, and had just now run into each other.

"Not as glad as I am to see you," Janeway told him warmly. "Report."

Neelix sobered. "We lost Larus, I'm afraid," he said. "Mr. Kim and Nouvat were injured by some large creature the size of a shuttlecraft, but we were able to fight it off to make it here where we've been maintaining our defense perimeter as best we could."

Tactical lingo, B'Elanna noted. Perhaps that time Neelix had spent in security hadn't been wasted after all. Certainly, he had fought as well as any of beta squad who had been escorting them. B'Elanna was impressed, and felt a bit easier about accepting him into her engineering staff. It wasn't that an ability in battle was a trait necessary in the engine room, she thought, but it helped.

"Where's Margus," Trell asked, looking around. "Dead?"

Neelix looked briefly uneasy. "No," he said finally. "At least, not as far as I know. When those things attacked she ... uh, left us."

B'Elanna thought you probably could have roasted marshmallows in the gaze that emanated from Janeway at that moment, but when she spoke, her voice was chill, like icicles shattering in an arctic wind.

"Why?" she asked.

"Something about a crystal, Captain," Neelix related. "The Crystal of Being. She was sure it was on this level somewhere, and was determined to find it. We didn't realize, until it was too late, that the whole time we thought she was leading us out, she was actually taking us deeper into the ruins."

"Logically, we should leave her to her folly, Captain," Tuvok noted calmly. B'Elanna saw from the faces of several others that they were in complete agreement. "She, after all, seems to be the only one who chose to come down here with full knowledge of what she was getting into."

A muscle jumped in Janeway's jaw. "No," she decided. "At least, not without making an attempt. I need to do that much for Tarm. He is her father."

"Understood," Tuvok said. His voice was absolutely no different than it would have been had she acceded to his suggestion. He motioned at his beta squad, and they unpacked two collapsible stretchers, bundling Lt. Kim and Nouvat onto them without much fanfare after doing what they could for the men's injuries. Any further medical attention would have to wait until they returned to the surface.

They resumed their journey which seemed to have lasted years at this point to the Klingon, rather than just the 30 or so hours it probably had. B'Elanna frowned as Janeway once more supported her, Seven and Ro taking one of the stretchers while the other was manned by Neelix and Ryan. The rest took up their customary defensive positions, lights fully charged with fresh energy packs.

"Captain, the tour guides said this Crystal of Being had been destroyed," B'Elanna muttered to Janeway.

"That's just the government line," Trell noted bitterly, having over heard her protest. "What they really do is use a portion of its power to maintain their own."

"What does it do exactly?" Janeway asked between gritted teeth as she helped her engineer over a particularly rough part of the cavern.

"It's a database, Captain," Trell said. "Filled with the wisdom of the ages. To be able to utilize it grants a great advantage, but it is very dangerous for one person to attempt to link directly with it. It can overwhelm an individual, though it can grant them absolute power."

"And absolute power corrupts absolutely," Janeway said. "I'm beginning to understand now. Why didn't Tarm tell us that?"

Trell made a face of dismissal. "He is part of the Council," he said. "They rule for life, Captain, and take their secret to the grave. Most of our people are unaware the crystal still exists, and the Council fosters this belief."

"Are they corrupt leaders?" Seven asked curiously.

"No," Trell admitted reluctantly. "When care is taken to make sure that no one person is exposed too much or for too long a time, then the crystal imparts wisdom only. It is the make up of the individual that determines how the wisdom is used."

"I do not understand," Seven complained. "This seems like a beneficial device. Why attempt to conceal its existence?"

"Because power is also a lure, Seven," Janeway said. "Some people have a need for it beyond the ordinary. They want it all."

"Like Margus?" Seven asked.

"Apparently," Janeway allowed. She turned her attention back to Trell. "Can Tarm and the Council get down here?"

Trell hesitated. "Yes," he said finally. "If they have a certain pendant that grants passage to the inner chamber, but they still need certain protection to get to this point, and they rarely need to actually see the crystal itself . The pendants are made from 'splinters' of the crystal which allows the Council members to tap into it in a limited fashion from the surface." He looked puzzled, then his eyes cleared. "I think she must have taken his to have reached so far."

Neelix looked thoughtful.  "She did seem somewhat immune to the attacks," he offered, adjusting his grip which bore his end of Harry's stretcher. "It was almost as if any wounds she received were accidental, in the heat of battle rather than deliberate attempts to bring her down, unlike how the creatures attacked the rest us."

Janeway looked very dark all of sudden. "Tarm intended that we would all die down here, didn't he?" she said.

Trell looked thoughtful. "Perhaps," he allowed. "Or maybe he thought that because you were aliens, you could stop Margus yourself."

"You mean, do what he couldn't bring himself to do," B'Elanna said flatly. "Kill his own daughter."

"No one's going to be killed," Janeway said sharply. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

They stumbled into a smaller corridor, and before them, lay the rectangular light of an open door. The team slowed and became quiet, stealthy, moving toward a chamber which was illuminated by an eerie glow. In the center, kneeling before a clear, formidably sized piece of rock which glowed with a golden light, they found Margus. Surrounding her were a nightmare assortment of creatures who observed her placidly, almost as if they were waiting to do her bidding.

Upon the Federation team's entrance, she rose to her feet and faced them. Her eyes were translucent, reflecting that of the crystal itself, and her face was unnaturally calm, almost glowing itself as she stood, swaying as if from some internal wind.

B'Elanna felt a chill go right to her very core.

"This isn't good," Ro Laren murmured.

Janeway heard the Bajoran woman's words, and agreed completely. She released B'Elanna, the chief engineer stumbling over to take up a position against the wall near some boulders where the other wounded were deposited, hopefully out of harm's way.  The Klingon hefted the phaser rifle the captain had handed her with determined intent, her eyes narrowed as she watched the Meuranato on the dais. Janeway took a deep breath and approached Margus cautiously, holding her hands out in a non-threatening position.

"Margus," she said. "We're here to help."

The Meuranato smiled blissfully. "You have already helped, Captain Janeway," she said with benevolence. "Now we shall enter a new age of peace and understanding."

Janeway exhaled slowly. "How so?" she asked civilly.

"I will right everything that has been wrong on Meuranato," she said ,and the glow around her face seemed to intensify. Janeway developed a sick feeling in her stomach, and she was careful not to make any sudden moves.

"Is there really so much that's wrong?" she asked carefully.

Margus beamed. "There is ignorance, captain," she said. "The government limits themselves. All the wisdom of the crystal should be available to be used, not just a portion." Her smile widened. "Indeed, we should bring this wisdom to our neighbors, bring them under the protection of our way."

"Margus, who are you to say what is wrong with Meuranato?" Trell shouted, glaring at her. "Or anyone else? We have enjoyed a peaceful and prosperous life here for over five hundred years. I may not like some of the government's policies, but this is madness."

Janeway closed her eyes. Dear god. Furious, she shot a look at Tuvok, indicating that she wanted him to shut the Meuranato male up. The security chief moved forward, but it was too late, Margus's full attention taken by the aggressive male.

"You were always such a fool, Trell," she said, and the blissful expression was gone. Now it was more predatory as she glared at him, and involuntarily, Janeway took a step back.

She felt the presence of her partner at her side, Seven raising her rifle protectively.

"Perhaps you should stay back, Captain," she said gently.

Janeway ignored the suggestion, and raised her hands in a calming motion.

"Please," she said loudly. "Let's not have this get out of hand."

Margus turned to her. "You are wise, Captain Janeway," she said, suddenly tranquil once more. "There is no longer need for conflict. All of you will understand once I have shown you the way."

"Margus, you have no right," Trell persisted.

"Trell," Janeway said with more emphasis than she wanted. "Please allow me to handle this."

He stared at her. "This is of the Meuranato, Captain Janeway," he said coldly. "Not your business. Not your concern."

She clamped down on the anger which rose within her. "When one of my people died in this little power play," she said bitingly. "When others were hurt, then it became my business."

"I am sorry for your loss, Captain," Margus said in that distant tone. "However, some sacrifice was necessary to usher in this new era of prosperity. I regret Darnat and Larus's deaths as well."

"I'm sure that will be of great comfort to their families," Trell said bitterly. "You're no different from your father, Margus."

That one struck hard, Janeway saw and the woman's face twisted angrily.

"You are beginning to bore me, Trell," she snarled and raised her hand. "I thought perhaps you were worthy of being my consort, but now I see you are as small minded as the rest."

The nearest creature, something that looked vaguely like a bull mastiff, only twice as big with jaws the size of bear traps, lunged at Trell, snapping at his throat as the burly native fought him off. Ensign Ryan cried out a warning as she raised her rifle and fired, shooting it through the spine. Trell threw aside the dead remains with a cry of disgust, and staggered toward the dais.

Unfortunately, that seemed to set off the rest of the animals, and before Janeway quite knew what was happening, the chamber dissolved into chaos. Seven grabbed her partner, and hustled her over to where B'Elanna was maintaining a protective position over the unconscious men. Then, before Janeway could protest, Seven threw herself back into the fray with the others, firing steadily as she waded towards the creatures which had leaped on Ryan, bearing the security officer to the ground as they ripped and tore at her.

Horrified, Janeway pulled out her hand phaser, realizing she had no hope of retrieving her rifle from B'Elanna who was selecting her shots with care, a grin of Klingon glee etched on her features. To the captain's right, Trell had bounded onto the dais where he struggled with Margus though what he was intending, Janeway had no idea. Margus ducked his first rush neatly, then placed her hand against the crystal. It seemed to throb with power, and her eyes glowed brighter, apparently filling her with its energy. She glared at Trell, and suddenly, he was flung across the room, smashing into the far wall with a sickening pulpy sound which rose over the growls of the animals and the cries of the away team. The corpse left a bloody blue smear as it slid down the stone, and Janeway's head whirled to meet the crystalline gaze of Margus.

The female's upper lip was drawn back over her canines, showing the pointed teeth of the Meuranato species.

Janeway leveled her phaser at the woman.

"Call off the attack," she warned. "Or I'll fire."

"Small minds," Margus said, her voice dripping with scorn. "You no longer interest me, Captain, and since it's clear you have thrown your lot in with Trell, feel free to join him."

Furious, Janeway pressed the trigger on the phaser, the ruby beam of light lancing across the room to impact on the Meuranato ... with no apparent effect. In the next second, it felt as if every synapse in Janeway's body was on fire, pain dancing white hot along her nerve endings. The phaser dropped from spasming fingers, and she fell to her knees, screaming as she pressed her hands to her head which was threatening to fly apart at any second.

"Kathryn!"

Janeway dimly heard Seven's voice through the red haze of pain, and vaguely realized that her people were turning their fire on Margus which only washed off her like water from impenetrable rock. The captain tried to speak, to tell her people not to waste their energy. Margus was only a conduit, the real power lay elsewhere, but she could not make a sound. All she could do was writhe in agony, curling up into a ball in an effort to shield herself from the attack, and unable to because it was coming from within, a psychic rain of fire being deluged upon her.

"The crystal!" she heard as if from very far away, and knew at least one of her crew had figured it out. She thought it might have been Ro's voice, and there was a white light that flashed about her as the pain within disappeared, and the pain outside began as a concussion buffeted her body.

She did not quite lose consciousness, but it was a very dark place in which she floundered about before she was able to open her eyes.

Everything was silent, and she gasped, her body tingling unpleasantly as if circulation was finally being restored to it, pins and needles skittering along every inch of skin. She rolled over, rising unsteadily to her knees, her hand pressed against a boulder for support as she looked around dazedly. There was no one left standing, and motes of silver dust floated in the beam from her lamp. The dais was covered with sparkling slivers of crystal where the large chunk had been, apparently having shattered beneath the combined fire of the away team. Crumpled before it, the unseeing, unknowing shell of the Meuranato known as Margus swayed back and forth, frothing around her lipless mouth as a low keening issued from her throat. Janeway knew instinctively that there was nothing left of the ambitious young woman, only a body which held no reason or intellect.

Painfully, Janeway got to her feet and stumbled over to B'Elanna who was groaning audibly. The Klingon was trying weakly to get to her hands and knees. Other sounds filtered through the murky air as people regained consciousness, stirring amongst the furry heaps of unmoving animals which had apparently died when the crystal overloaded. The captain's gaze swept the room, taking in her other injured crew who ironically had been the best shielded, tucked behind the outcropping of boulders. Harry's eyelids moved, but the young man did not wake while Nouvat was blinking uncertainly at the destruction around him. Disbelievingly, the Meuranato reached out and picked up a crystal sliver and began to weep without tears, gazing at it with such incredible loss etched into his smooth features that Janeway was shaken to her core.

Becoming slightly more frantic, Janeway searched the rest of the room, picking out the body of Ensign Ryan who would never regain consciousness again, and the twisted form of Lt. Davis who needed prompt medical attention if he were to survive. Tuvok was already back on his feet, as was Lt. Ro and Neelix who were assisting the Bolian, Crell and Hickman to an upright position. Then finally, she saw the unmoving, dark-clothed form of her partner, crumpled next to the dais. Seven had apparently been closest to the blast, and from the way she had been blown backward, she had taken the brunt of the crystal's shattering. Janeway stumbled anxiously over to her, kneeling down beside Seven as she forgot about everyone else, not thinking about what had just happened, only that it had resulted in her partner lying so still.

Her fingers shook as she touched the leonine neck, her eyes closing in relief as she felt the steady flutter of a heartbeat. Seven moaned and stirred, her eyelids fluttering before they opened to reveal the ice blue orbs which warmed perceptively as they saw the worried features of the captain looming over her.

"Kathryn," she whispered. "I was unconscious."

"Yes," Janeway responded, searching the Borg's body anxiously. Miraculously, Seven seemed to have avoided being peppered by any of the debris from the blast. That was very odd, Janeway thought. They all should have been punctured by the deadly slivers of mineral as it exploded.

"Kathryn, look above us," Seven said with wonder in her tone.

Bemused, Janeway did so, and her mouth dried as she saw that the explosion had somehow been channeled upward. The ceiling was thick with the various shards of crystal which were imbedded into the solid rock, indicating how powerful the blast had been. The slivers which were all over the floor, must have broken off from the bottom of these deadly spears and merely fallen away, their deadly velocity blunted and thus, not the danger they could have been.

Janeway didn't know how that had happened. Had it been a last command from Margus before her mind was destroyed, some final vestige of conscience from the young female?  Or perhaps the crystal itself had some form of safety protocol imbedded within. The captain decided she would probably never know, but she wondered what indeed, she had wrought this day. What had Voyager interfered with now? What had they really ended up destroying?

Wearily, she helped Seven to her feet, and then moved over to where the bloody body of Ensign Ryan lay. The creatures had gotten to her before the overload of the crystal had killed them, and sadly, the captain knelt beside the woman who seemed small in death, almost childlike.

Lt. Ro was already there, and the Bajoran's dark eyes met the captain's, shaking her head sorrowfully. "She was a good officer," Ro said quietly. "I was proud to have served with her."

"She died carrying out her duty," Janeway responded bleakly. "It may not seem like much comfort, but she was very brave." Her face softened. "Was she a friend?"

Ro's face closed up. "No," she said shortly. "I don't have many friends." Then she bowed her head. "But she was a good person and we worked together in beta squad for a long time."

Janeway nodded, then got to her feet, helped by Seven who had abruptly appeared beside her. With grey eyes, the captain looked around once more before being startled by a chirp from her communicator. They had been out of contact with the ship since entering the ruins, the bio-dampening field preventing their communicators or tricorders from functioning. Fortunately, their rifles had worked, though if they hadn't, they wouldn't have been able to enter the ruins in the first place. Totally different energy signature she supposed, and now that the crystal was destroyed, no doubt the bio-field was down as well.

"Voyager to Captain Janeway," came the worried tones of her first officer. "Captain, can you read me?"

"Janeway here," she said. "Chakotay, are the transporters working?"

"Yes," he said. She could tell he had a multitude of questions, but professionally, he held on to them, awaiting her orders. "Our sensors are finally detecting you."

She dipped her head. "Good," she said. "On my mark, beam us directly to sickbay. We have seriously wounded, and dead. Contact the Meuranato. Inform them that we have wounded of theirs as well, and that we will debrief them as soon as possible."

"Understood," Chakotay said.

Janeway dropped her hand, and looked over at the rest of her team who were helping the wounded as best they could in preparation for transport. She cleared her throat, and touched her comm badge once more.

"Voyager," she commanded. "Energize."

The last thing she saw was the blackened and cracked dais which no longer bore the true seat of power for this world's government.

Seven looked up from the data padds spread across the coffee table as the door hissed open and her spouse walked into their quarters. Without saying a word, Janeway moved purposefully over to the couch where the Borg was sitting, scattering the padds from her hands onto the floor, and crawling onto Seven's lap ... which did not phase the young woman in the slightest. Seven merely wrapped her arms tightly about the compact form, and tucked the auburn head under her chin, cradling her lovingly.

"Kathryn?" she said softly, after a long period of time passed when all she did was hold the captain as closely to her as she could. "Are you all right?"

"I didn't want it to end that way," Janeway said sadly, softly.

"I know," Seven said, knowing exactly what her spouse was talking about. "Margus left you no other option."

Janeway sniffed slightly, though Seven did not think she was crying, and settled deeper into the embrace, relaxing marginally against the Borg's chest, her body no longer the tight bow string it had been when she first entered the cabin.

"I should have found another way," Janeway said remorsefully.

Seven had come to understand that the captain always experienced these doubts and recriminations after every mission, but until recently, Janeway had never revealed them to anyone. The Borg was honored to be the one Janeway confided in, even if it was sometimes difficult for Seven to come up with a way to console her. Mostly, she knew that her role was simply to listen and offer Janeway her support, however she could.

"You did what you had to," Seven said firmly. "You offered her every opportunity to communicate with us. Obviously, Margus used Voyager's arrival in this system for her own pursuits. Certainly, if it had not been our away team, it would have been another group of aliens, perhaps less qualified to handle it in such a way that so few were harmed."

Janeway did not reply, and Seven hoped this meant the captain was thinking about her words, and possibly even accepting them. Seven did not have the power to grant Janeway absolution, but sometimes, she was able to help the captain forgive herself when Janeway was feeling particularly lost and uncertain.

The Borg was only beginning to comprehend this concept, but it gave her a sense of being needed which she had never before experienced. The Collective after all, required no single individual for its continued functioning, not even the queen. As Kathryn's partner, however, Seven had become a vital part of the relationship's whole, incapable of being replaced, and she was pleased to find out that the longer she was with Kathryn, the more she discovered not only about her partner, but about herself. It was an ongoing process, and each new layer uncovered pushed her further along the path she was pursuing ...  though where it would ultimately lead her, she wasn't sure.

"Were the Meuranato particularly angry?" Seven asked curiously.

Janeway managed a wry grin, but it looked very painful.  "Let's just say that Voyager is not going to be welcomed here ever again," she mumbled.  "We're going to have to find our ore somewhere else."

Seven rubbed the captain's back gently. "How is Davis?" she asked.

Janeway sighed. "He'll live," she responded. "In fact, he should be on his feet in a few days." She hesitated. "This one cost, Annika ... far too much. I've just spent two hours in my ready room composing the eulogies for the memorial service tomorrow.  Lt. Briggs and Ensign Ryan were good people. They deserved better than this."

"I understand," Seven said quietly, and pulled her closer.

Eulogies were exactly the sort of task Janeway found excruciatingly difficult, and such a necessity tended to make her introspective for days. Seven searched for something to say, something that would make this all right even as she knew she could not. Gently, she kissed the captain's temple.

"Kathryn, I am here for you." It was the best she could come up with.

It seemed enough for the moment, however, and she felt Janeway relax a little more in her arms.

There was another silence. "I worry sometimes," the captain said finally.

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "About?"

Janeway hesitated. "Power corrupts," she said. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"Yes, you said this in the tunnels," Seven said. "It is a Human 'saying'?"

"It is," the captain said slowly. "It is not an absolute rule, of course, but it has happened enough times in our history to know it is to be expected. I applied that standard to Margus, but perhaps I was wrong."

"You saw what she did to Trell," Seven noted with a certain amount of puzzlement. "Clearly, despite all the wisdom she received from the crystal, she still allowed base emotion to rule her. Also, the Meuranato's own archives substantiate a history of individuals being corrupted by power, just as Humans have. Indeed, that was why the Meuranato evolved into being ruled by a Council rather than by a monarch."

Janeway was silent, and Seven wondered what she might be thinking.

The captain cuddled closer. "Some might say I have ultimate power as the sole Starfleet representative in the Delta Quadrant," she said finally.

Seven considered that. "You worry that this is corrupting you?"

"I don't know," Janeway responded honestly. "I've done things ... things I'm not sure I would have been as quick to do had I someone to answer to immediately."

"Such as?" Seven asked.

"Sever you from the Collective," Janeway said.  "For example."

Seven was alarmed. "You do not regret that?" she asked urgently.

"No, never," Janeway said soothingly, hugging the Borg's neck tightly. "However, I still imposed my will on you, even when you demanded to be returned to the Borg. I took away your choices, Seven, and maybe it was for all the best reasons and intentions in the world, but I still presumed to make that decision because the four pips I wear allowed me to." She swallowed convulsively. "Maybe Margus would have the same intentions, and had the power to back them up, but I sided with Trell. I determined that she didn't have the right to decide what was best for her people, even though I do it for mine every single day. The difference is only in degree, not in the assumption of that power."

Seven searched for the words to counter that.

"Kathryn, you earned your power," she said. "Margus attempted to seize it. There is a difference."

"Perhaps," Janeway said softly.

"Also I comprehend the reasons you severed me from the Collective," Seven continued. "Every moment I am grateful for it. I told you that you were no different from the Borg, that you were denying me your basic human right; to chose my own fate, but now I know I would have chosen incorrectly. I would have returned to the Collective and denied myself this life which makes me so happy now."

"But maybe I was wrong to take the choice from you, Annika," Janeway whispered. "I believed that you didn't have the capacity to chose wisely, but that was exactly what Margus believed about her people. The Meuranato Council believed it as well, which is why they used the crystal and kept it from public knowledge. There's no difference between them and me at all."

Seven stroked the captain's hair gently, feeling sadness echo through her at the captain's struggle to come to terms with this.

"I do not have the words to make this right," she said sorrowfully.

Janeway drew back a little so she could look into Seven's face. "I know," she said finally, after searching her eyes. "Perhaps no one does. It's just a matter of knowing where to draw the line, and I guess I'm afraid because I think I've crossed it more than once out here in the Delta Quadrant."

Seven bent her head, resting her forehead against Janeway's. "If you have, it was out of compassion, Kathryn," she said. "You must not forget that. Furthermore, you accept that there are consequences for your actions. You cross the line only because you feel you have no other choice."

"Maybe," Janeway said slowly. "I don't know anymore, Annika."

"Yes," Seven said with certainty. "You do. That is why you are captain. We believe in you. I believe in you."

Janeway looked at her for a long moment, then she smiled tremulously. "Thank you, darling," she said.

"You are welcome," Seven said, feeling a sense of satisfaction flow through her. She didn't know if what she said truly helped, but the captain seemed easier with it now, and that was all that mattered. Janeway snuggled down again into the embrace, and Seven basked in the warmth of her body against hers.

"Annika, do you still want to join Starfleet?" Janeway asked, after another, far more comfortable silence had passed.

"Yes," Seven said, quirking her eyebrow slightly. The Borg was not in the habit of changing her mind once she had decided she was going to accomplish something. She was surprised that her partner had forgotten that.

"I spoke with Chakotay and Tuvok about it after the debriefing," Janeway continued. "I would like you to start immediately, if that's all right with you."

"That is acceptable," Seven agreed.

Janeway nodded. "I'll provide a list of texts that I want you to study prior to your first round of classes," she said.

"Very well," Seven said evenly.

"It won't be easy," the captain warned.

"I do not expect it to be," Seven responded. She paused. "Are you attempting to dissuade me?"

Janeway smiled wistfully. "No, darling," she said. "I just want this to be entirely your decision. I don't want you to do it because of me."

Seven decided that it would not be wise to reply to that with her initial response; that most of what she did was completely because of Kathryn. Her very existence was because of the vibrant little captain, but lately Seven had come to realize it bothered her partner when she said things like that. In this instance, she chose not to, searching for another honest, if less accurate, rejoinder.

"I wish to do it because it will allow me to perform better in my role on this vessel," she said finally. "And because it will be a challenge. I enjoy challenges."

Janeway sighed softly. "I'm glad, darling," she said with what seemed relief.

Seven felt Kathryn kiss her neck, and knew that her partner was still seeking a comfort that only she could provide. She gathered her up in her arms, and carefully rose from the sofa.

"Annika?" Kathryn's voice was questioning, but not particularly startled, or protesting.

"I believe it is time that we retired for the evening," Seven responded, carrying her through the living area into the bedroom.

"Ah," Janeway said, wrapping her arms around the Borg's shoulders, and resting her head against hers. "What about your work?"

"It can wait," Seven said, not even looking back at the discarded padds littering the floor.

"I think you're developing some bad habits," Janeway murmured as she smiled and nuzzled into the young woman's neck, apparently content to let Seven take care of her this evening which delighted the young woman. It was something Janeway had not always been entirely comfortable with, though Seven allowed that the captain was becoming better at it as time progressed.

"Do you object?" Seven asked as she lowered her onto the mattress.

"Not at all," Janeway said. She rolled out of bed much to the Borg's bemusement. "But first, darling, I'm going to take a shower. I've been in debriefings all day."

"Very well," Seven agreed. She had showered and changed earlier in the evening, and as Janeway disappeared into the ensuite, the Borg removed the silken grey pyjamas she was wearing and slipped naked between the sheets.

She linked her hands behind her head and studied the ceiling idly, listening to her partner showering, then the subtle noises of Janeway performing the rest of her ablutions as the Borg enjoyed the sounds of routine and home. When the captain finally came out, she was wearing a warm, blue terrycloth robe and brushing out her auburn hair briskly.

Seven watched with interest as the captain finally removed the robe and got into bed next to Seven, snuggling up against the young woman's side. For long moments, they lay together quietly, Seven's left arm wrapped around the captain's shoulders, her other hand slowly stroking Janeway's forearm which was draped across her chest.

"I am surprised," Seven said finally.

"What?" Janeway asked quietly.

"I thought you would be ... more amorous," Seven said. "You usually are after a mission."

She felt the muscles in Janeway's cheek twitch against her skin, indicating a small grin which Seven could not see from her vantage point.

"It was a tough time," Janeway said quietly. "Tonight, I guess I just want you to hold me."

"Then I shall," Seven promised, tightening her grasp.

There was another pause, and Seven became aware of the captain's hand casually inching over until it was covering her right breast.

"I thought you said you just wanted me to hold you?" Seven inquired.

"Is this somehow preventing that?" Janeway responded innocently, her palm gently chafing the nipple which stiffened immediately.

Seven smiled into the dark. "I do not believe so," she said. She wondered how long Janeway would be able to maintain this illusion that all she wished to do tonight was rest. The Borg felt the hand squeeze her breast gently, then withdraw slightly to allow the captain's fingertips to fondle the nipple.

Not very long at all, she decided.

Janeway woke as the morning watch illumination came up, the precise tones from the computer indicating the time. She inhaled slowly and stretched, pleasantly languid. It had taken her awhile to become aroused the previous night, but once she started, she hadn't wanted to stop, needing to wash away the bad taste of the past mission by immersing herself in her partner. Now, Seven lay curled up on her side of the bed, her head resting on her hands which were tucked under her cheek, looking rather like an exhausted angel. She hadn't even stirred at the computer's wake up call and somewhat shame-faced ... though smugly so ... Janeway touched the controls set in the recess at the head of the bed, disengaging the secondary alarm which would have sounded in another half hour. Then she logged them both off duty for the day, tapping in a few more commands to accord the rest of the Meuranato away team, including the surviving members of Tuvok's beta squad, three extra days of R&R, ten extra replicator rations per day during that time, and a note to add commendations to all their records.

That done, she rolled over, wrapping herself around the slumbering Borg where she allowed herself to drift off to sleep once more

When she woke the second time, Seven was still snoozing peacefully, this time on her belly, her long hair falling down to obscure her face as the captain sprawled over her back. Janeway smiled lazily, and carefully brushed the blond strands away from Seven's face, reaching down to gently kiss along the line of cheek and around the ocular implant. Seven made a soft sound, a tiny mew of pleasure, and Janeway pressed herself onto the lanky woman.

"Shh," she whispered. "It's just me. Go back to sleep."

"That is rather difficult to do," Seven noted dryly as Janeway nibbled at her ear, running her hand over the Borg's sinuous spine, her nipples prodding into it provocatively. "Since it is clear that you have no intention of returning to sleep yourself."

Janeway chuckled. "Then just relax and let me do all the work, sweetheart," she murmured invitingly. "You deserve it."

"Very well," Seven surrendered, wiggling slightly as Janeway bent her fingers, enabling her nails to scratch lightly up and down the spine. "For this one occasion."

Janeway laughed again, and applied herself to her task. There were two forms of back scratching she had developed for her beloved; the first where she completely indulged the young woman, long, luscious strokes that Seven literally wallowed under, basking in the treat. The second, however, was a light, almost tickling caress that aroused the young woman, making her squirm, and it was this method Janeway was using now; teasing passes over the smooth skin with only the gentlest of pressure. While she did that, she kissed and nuzzled the Borg's ear and neck, nibbling the smooth edge of her jaw, moving over her with wanton intent. She reached over, and retrieved a pillow from her side of the bed and at her gentle urging, Seven rose up briefly so that Janeway could tuck it under the Borg's tummy, giving the captain space to move as she reached down and around to Seven's front, stroking the Borg's navel, then lower, through the thin strands of blonde triangle.

Seven let out her breath with a moan as Janeway slipped her fingertips along the Borg's crease, touching the sensitive ridge gently, dipping into the wetness and spreading it around the tender flesh. Janeway was impressed by the amount of moisture, and nuzzled into the back of Seven's neck, her whole weight resting on top of the young woman, though Seven did not seem to mind, arching up into her. Then, with her other hand, Janeway reached down to Seven from behind, slipping her index finger into the young woman, pressing directly onto the smooth little area inside.

"Oh Kathryn," Seven gasped, sounding somewhat astonished.

"You like that?" Janeway said huskily into her ear, flexing intimately inside her, her other hand increasing its caress of the little nodule.

"Oh yes," Seven moaned. "It feels so good."

Janeway's lips drew back from her teeth as her body pressed heavily onto her partner's. It wasn't the most graceful of positions, but there was no question of its effectiveness and it wasn't long before Seven was curling up beneath Janeway, fighting for breath as the shudders rippled through her, whispering her lover's name over and over until finally she escaped Janeway's grasp, rolling over and pulling the captain down onto her, kissing her deeply. Janeway was effectively trapped in those powerful arms, and she returned the kiss eagerly, somewhat surprised at the response but very pleased none the less.

"You are ..." Seven began, then trailed off.

Janeway waited and then realized that words had completely failed her partner and she laughed joyfully. "I am ... the most fortunate woman in the universe to have my Annika," she finished for her.

Seven blinked. "That was not what I was going to say," she protested mildly.

Janeway kissed her. "But it was accurate," she insisted with good humor. She sat up until she was straddling the young woman, looking down at her. "Now, I require a little attention myself," she added with an unabashed grin. "I can't believe how stimulated I become while making love to you."

Seven eyed her with amusement. "Did you have something in mind?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone. "A specific request perhaps."

Janeway pondered it. "I think ..." she began thoughtfully.

"That you want me to do this," Seven finished for her, reaching down to cup Janeway's buttocks and easily lifting her in the air, pulling her up until she was positioned directly over the young woman's mouth.

Breathless, wide eyed, Janeway grabbed for the lip of the window above the bed to catch her balance as she felt the warm breath from her partner flow over her most intimate regions.

"Why, yes," she admitted, stifling her laughter, "Just what I was going to suggest." She purred happily as she felt the tip of Seven's tongue flick out, and lightly stroke along the bundle of nerves which was throbbing with sensitivity. "I taught you that one."

There was a mild snicker from the vicinity of her groin, and Janeway quirked an eyebrow.

"I did," she insisted in a softer voice, her words turning into a sigh as the Borg's touch spread through her like wildfire.

Seven did not respond which, as far as the captain was concerned, was perfectly acceptable. After all, she hardly wanted the Borg to pause in what she was currently doing just to argue with her about who taught what to whom. Janeway leaned her arms onto the ledge of the window, and watched the stars go by, streaking past in the distortion of her ship's warp field, reveling in the sensation of her lover's mouth on her until finally, it washed over her, the stars whirling away into the darkness of space as a bright light filled her head, and there was nothing but her and Seven, connected in a pleasure that completely consumed her.

She wasn't sure exactly what happened next, suspecting that perhaps she had lost track of things somewhat, but abruptly she was once again in Seven's arms, submerged in a kiss so wonderfully absorbing that she decided that there could be nothing better than this, her own flavor mingling with Seven's on those full, intoxicating lips.

"You are so incredible, my darling," she murmured when the kiss finally released her.

"And you are delicious," Seven responded evenly. She ran her tongue over her lips as Janeway watched, obviously in an attempt to make her point, sending a chill of absolute delight through the captain,. Janeway was tremendously touched to know they were not just words to her lover, but something Seven meant with all sincerity.

She leaned forward, and kissed her spouse again, lingering over that very talented and skilled mouth. "Without you," she whispered, suddenly very close to tears though she didn't know why. "All the light in my existence would disappear."

Seven was clearly pleased at the sentiment, though it was doubtful she completely understood what light Janeway was talking about ... but then, how could she when Janeway didn't quite understand it herself? She only knew it was true.

They relaxed into the tangled linens, cuddled together in the center of the bed. Seven glanced up at the time, shot a look at Janeway, but did not comment. It was apparent that if the captain was content to laze the day away in bed, so was the Borg.

"Are you hungry?" Janeway asked, taking a moment to note the time herself.

"Perhaps a little," Seven admitted. She paused, and a small smile played about her mouth. "I have expended a great deal of energy recently ... not just on Meuranato."

"But you enjoyed it," Janeway reminded her as she rolled out of bed. "Let me make breakfast for us this morning, for a change."

"Morning?" Seven queried as the captain padded naked out to the replicator.

The captain smiled, but didn't respond, programming in some properly light food which could be eaten in bed without leaving too much of a mess. She returned to the bedroom laden with a platter of fruit, dips and muffins, along with a bottle of wine. Seven raised her eyebrow when she saw the repast.

"That is not a proper breakfast," she noted dryly. "Perhaps you should not be allowed near a replicator."

Janeway made a face at her, and dipped a strawberry in chocolate sauce. She eyed Seven archly as she ate it, the Borg watching her with interest. Then the captain smiled and very deliberately, leaned forward and dipped two of her fingers into in the sauce, tracing a smear of dark chocolate across her own nipples before looking at the Borg challengingly.

Seven's eyebrow was doing its best to crawl off her forehead.

"I retract my statement," the Borg said evenly. "It is indeed, a proper meal."

She reached out for her spouse and proceeded to have her breakfast.

Epilogue

B'Elanna Torres tried to look casual as she lingered in the corridor outside one of the conference rooms on deck two where Tuvok was holding his regular weekly briefing with his department. The door abruptly opened and a rush of officers, laughing and chattering, left the room, followed by the Vulcan who favored the Klingon with a quirked eyebrow as he passed. Tuvok did not say anything to her, for which she was supremely grateful.

She frowned, wondering if she had missed her in the crowd, and then felt a trifle lightheaded when Lt. Ro finally exited, carrying a stack of padds. It occurred to B'Elanna that this was like something out of the Academy, when things were incredibly awkward and so exciting at the same time, hating the feeling even as she reveled in it.

"Lt. Torres," Ro said with some surprise, pausing as she saw the woman. "Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for fixing my leg," B'Elanna said, trying not to wince at opening the conversation with something so incredibly lame.

Ro stared at her. "You've already thanked me for that," she noted coolly.

"I know ... uh, it's like a blood debt, you know?" the engineer tried.

Ro Laren tilted her head. "Actually, I don't," she admitted. "The only Klingon I knew was Lt. Worf and I didn't know him very well before I ... left."

"Oh," B'Elanna mumbled, castigating herself for bringing up what could be possibly painful memories for the woman.

"Is there a point to this, Lieutenant?" Ro asked.

B'Elanna took a breath. "I was wondering, if you're not too busy, if you might like to catch a bite with me in the messhall," she said in a rush. "You're off duty now, right?"

Ro blinked, obviously surprised. Then she looked away, seeming uncomfortable suddenly.

"Torres, you should know, I'm not really ... well, attracted to women," she said.

B'Elanna nodded. "That's okay," she said. She hesitated, then added boldly, if a trifle inaccurately, "Neither was I ... until now."

Ro's head went back a little, and she seemed to be thinking it over. "All right," she said slowly. "But I can't promise anything." She paused. "Hell, I couldn't promise anything if you were male."

B'Elanna shook her head. "I'm not asking for promises," she said honestly. "I just thought we could ... see where it goes. Even if it doesn't go ... anywhere in particular, well, hey, you can't have too many friends, right?"

Ro looked a little bemused. "I wouldn't know," she admitted.

"Maybe it's time to find out," B'Elanna offered in a much gentler voice.

Ro nodded. "Maybe," she said.

Somewhere between the darkness of the past and the light of the future, two people reached out.

Just to see what would happen.

The End