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

Just Between Us

G. L. Dartt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” Seven stood patiently, waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sleep there?” Her expression was confused.

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

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

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

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

God, she must be losing her mind.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

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

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

“Sit down,” she offered.

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

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

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

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

Seven looked attentive and vaguely intrigued. “This is to be an extensive discussion?”

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

“I thought the matters surrounding each incident had been resolved.” Seven sounded honestly puzzled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crying…” Seven examined that thought. “I do not believe I ‘cry’, Captain.”

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

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

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

Seven looked puzzled. “This helps you?”

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

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

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

“Indeed.” The Borg regarded Janeway gravely. “Is there anything else you wish to know, Captain?”

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

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

Despite that, however, a smile touched the corners of Janeway’s lips. “Thank you, Seven.”

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

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

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

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

Fuming, the compact, solid woman slapped her comm badge. “Computer, where is Seven of Nine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” B’Elanna finally managed. “Is that the question?”

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

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

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

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

“This occurs only between men and women?” Seven asked.

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

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

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

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

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

B’Elanna was less inclined to end it. “Have you noticed someone doing that with you a lot lately, Seven?”

“Yes,” came the curt response.

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

Seven opened her mouth to answer when they were interrupted. “All department heads, please report to the conference room.” Chakotay’s voice over their comm badges was quite insistent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But why Seven?

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

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

“Captain?”

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

“Are you injured, Captain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astonished, the captain took a breath. “Why would you say that?”

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

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

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

“No, she isn’t,” Janeway admitted. She shook her head. What had she expected Tuvok to say?

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

Janeway eyed him narrowly. “Am I that obvious?”

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

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

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

Janeway spread her hands, allowing a wry grin to touch her lips. “You’re all I have at the moment, my friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

Startled, Janeway looked at him. “You think I should tell her?” There was a pause, and then, unhappily, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tuvok.”

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

Janeway smiled wanly. “I do thank you for it, my friend, and for listening. But, I fear this is something I have to work out on my own.”

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

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

“Good night, Captain,” he said before entering his quarters.

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

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

“Lights.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I find you aesthetically pleasing, Kathryn.”

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

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

“You did?”

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

“Captain, are you all right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven studied her closely. “Why not?” she asked flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Make love’,” Seven queried, head tilted as she tasted the words. “Yes, let us ‘make love’. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kath … Kathryn,” she managed to utter. “My eyes … they are full of moisture.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you’d never ask,” came the throaty chuckle. “Come here.”

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

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

Her eyes flew open.

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

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

Seven was asleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can’t,” she said with a groan.

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

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

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

Janeway laughed, a throaty chuckle that caused the Borg to shiver in reaction. “I’m afraid so, my darling … especially when you consider we still have to shower and dress.”

Seven considered this. “Unfortunate,” she commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It does sound promising,” she allowed, examining the data.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe we now have an appropriate period of time for us to ‘make love’,” Seven offered, “since this morning left us an insufficient amount.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” she managed to blurt.

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

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

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

“Sit,” Janeway said. “Please.”

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

“Seven, what just happened on the bridge was totally inappropriate.”

Seven considered that. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’ll have them,” Janeway promised earnestly. She smiled as she used her fingertips to gently trace the line of her lover’s jaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded, accepted the device and scanning the data.. “We’ll have to send a preliminary away team.”

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

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

“Un, Captain, I just wanted you to know that what happened on the bridge … stays there. My orders.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in,” she said, a bit tartly.

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

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

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “Not to my knowledge, Captain.”

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

Tuvok lowered his brows. “I believe you know why, Captain.”

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

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

“I’m glad we can agree on one thing,” Janeway said. “Is there anything else?”

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

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

“Enter,” she said with weary resignation.

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

“Oh God,” she moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lt. B’Elanna Torres,” Seven identified immediately. “May I help you?”

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

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

“That would be acceptable,” she said.

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

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

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

“‘Coming on to me’?” Seven’s eyepiece glinted in the lights of the mess hall.

“Who did you think was attracted to you?” B’Elanna amended.

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

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

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

Intelligence was rarely a match for sheer cunning.

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

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

B’Elanna favored him with a tiny frown. “Just some ‘girl talk’,” she said quickly.

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

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

“Any time, Seven,” B’Elanna responded. “I mean that.”

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

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

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

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

Janeway smiled, a bit sadly. “It’s alright, Seven. You don’t need the Doctor’s catch phrases with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven considered that. “At one time, Ensign Kim ‘flirted’ with me.”

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

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

Janeway waved it off. “It’s all right, Seven, ” she said. “What happened next?”

Seven appeared perplexed. “He seemed frightened and quickly left.”

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

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

“Do you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I am always careful, Captain,” the blonde said slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janeway smiled wickedly. “It should.”

Seven thought about this. “Thank you.”

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

Seven did not hesitate.

“That would be … more than acceptable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, she saw her.

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

She was so incredibly beautiful. She was alive.

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

“Captain,” she greeted calmly.

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

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

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

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

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

“It is bearable,” Seven allowed. “I will … live.”

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

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

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

“It seemed an appropriate time,” Seven admitted.

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

“I would allow it, if you could,” Seven answered in an equally low voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her steel grey eyes were boring lasers through him.

Apparently not.

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

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

“You’d be surprised,” he said brightly as he ran the device over the torn flesh, regenerating the tissue.

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

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

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

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

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

“I was merely doing my duty,” Seven said evenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain?”

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

“Yes, Doctor?” she said impatiently.

He nodded out the door of the makeshift hut constructed of bamboo-like material where they kept most of the equipment. “You have a visitor.”

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

“Captain?” she raised an eyebrow as she entered.

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

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

Seven blinked. “I have completed my assignments. I am currently availing myself of my accorded shore leave.”

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

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

“I’m rather busy at the moment,” Janeway said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are punishing me … but I have done nothing wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

It did not make her feel better at all.

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

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

“Hey, Seven’s back,” she hissed.

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

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

“Analyzing specimen 743,” came the terse reply.

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

“Why aren’t you still on leave?” Torres asked gently.

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

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

“Did you see the captain after you left?”

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

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

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

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

“What?” Torres blurted, profoundly shocked. “That stinks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, about Janeway,” she insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven was crying.

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

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

“Tuvok?”

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

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

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

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

“I am aware that you and the captain embarked on a personal relationship and that the relationship is now encountering difficulties.”

“Our relationship has ended,” she responded bluntly. “The captain does not wish to love me any longer.”

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

“What the captain wishes, and what she can necessarily accomplish, may be two different things.” He watched as Seven’s eyes changed, the darkness lessening, and the pale blue lightening with … hope?

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

“She feels our relationship would interfere with her command,” Seven said bleakly.

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

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

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

Seven raised her head. “You think she was wrong to become involved with me.”

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

“Will they?” Seven asked curiously.

“Perhaps,” Tuvok allowed. “I doubt it, however.”

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

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

“‘Approachability’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did not turn around.

“It is a ‘dirty job’,” he told her just before exiting the cargo bay. “However, someone has to do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janeway smiled faintly. “At least, something is working out.”

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

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

“If I may, Captain,” he said. “You are more than ‘just a little out of sorts’.”

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

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

Were things that bad?

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

Apparently they were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because loving her affects my ability to command,” she snapped. Why doesn’t anyone understand that? she wondered crankily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes rose to meet his sardonically. “Was that a hint?”

“Merely a recommendation.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” she said dryly.

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

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

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

“Where is she? Exactly.”

“Seven of Nine is currently on the planet’s surface at coordinates zero-three-nine-four.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven considered that. “What does this mean?”

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

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

“Forgive you?” Seven’s brows lowered as she seemed to search for the proper reference.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do, my darling,” Janeway said. “I really do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Voyager here,” Tuvok’s voice came over the badge.

“Personal communication, Tuvok,” she said shortly.

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

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

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

Subtle, my friend, very subtle, Janeway thought sardonically. “Double.”

“Understood,” he said. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

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

“That will be acceptable,” Seven allowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ever underestimate Tuvok,” she advised Seven wryly.

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

“Because I love you,” Janeway responded gently.

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

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

“What?”

Janeway closed her eyes.

“We’ll keep that discussion just between us.”

The End

Back to Season One

On to Just Between Them

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Epilogue