Have A Pleasant Evening

by

DiNovia and sHaYcH

Disclaimer: We don't own 'em. We just borrowed 'em and we'll put 'em back. We promise! : )

Warning: This story is about women who love women. Gee, noting the authors, that's such a huge surprise, right? Still, if it isn't your cuppa, we understand and we recommend that you go to another site.

Hey, we hope you all liked it, please send your comments to: DiNovia and shaych3@yahoo.com

Please be nice. Nastiness makes us cranky, and trust me, two cranky women is nothing to shake a stick at.

From shay: I have to say that this story is for Erin, who listened to my screwy idea of doing it in the first place. Thank you. It was the neatest thing in the world to write this with you.

From Erin: And I would have to say that this story is for shay, who suggested it, who started it, and who deftly dropped me into some of the most interesting "tough spots" I have ever had to write my way out of. Thank you. Let's do this again sometime. J

***

"Seven, it is the nature of humans to seek out other humans for companionship. Why do you insist on hiding yourself away here in cargo bay two?" The EMH asked as he entered the large room.

Seven of Nine, formerly of the Borg Collective and now Astrometrics officer on board the Federation starship Voyager, briefly looked up from the console where she was stationed. Coldly, she said, "I do not require 'human interaction', Doctor."

The doctor, made up of cohesive light particles and therefore not specifically required to breathe, took a deep breath, sighed heavily, pressed his lips together and scowled. "Seven, I simply cannot see why you resist socializing with other crew members. Perhaps if you showed a little heart, they wouldn't think of you as such a machine!" The hologram regretted the words almost as soon as they were spoken, for Seven flinched visibly.

"Their observation is partially accurate, Doctor. I am still 39.731% Borg." Seven stated hollowly, then dropped her gaze back to her work.

The doctor's photonic heart thudded painfully in his chest and his voice softened. "I'm sorry Seven. I didn't mean it to come out that way. I certainly do not share the same opinion of some of the more neanderthal of the crew."

"Whether or not the crew are proto-human beings is irrelevant, Doctor. I have work to do. If you would please allow me to proceed?" She didn't even look up from her station, just continued to input data.

The doctor closed his eyes in defeat. "Yes. Pardon my intrusion." Then he spun on his heels and walked away.

***

When he was gone, Seven closed her eyes briefly, the slightest tinge of a frown skating over her features.

Her statement that she didn't require 'human interaction' was not entirely accurate. In fact, quite the opposite was true, inherent in her very designation. One alone was not an efficient operating status for any Borg, whether or not she was still connected to the hive mind.

I will adapt, she told herself sharply. Loneliness is inefficient.

In an effort to soothe that particular human frailty, Seven tripled her work output with just a few flutters of her silvered fingertips, beginning another project entirely while still engaged in the first. She did not hear the cargo bay doors open once again.

***

Naomi Wildman crept into the cargo bay, hands held behind her back, precariously clutching the brightly wrapped packet that she'd been working on all day. She knew that it wasn't Seven's birthday, nor was it Christmas or Ancestor's Day, but she still had wanted to make something for her older friend. So today, while receiving lessons from her holographic teacher, Miss Jeannie, she had requested time to do some artwork. Miss Jeannie had been pleased, and paints and paper had been provided.

Naomi had spent the better part of an hour slopping paint in huge, colorful spirals onto the butcher paper, intending to mimic the spirals of the nebulae that she saw each day out of her bedroom window. She only hoped that Seven appreciated her less than DaVincian efforts. After class, she'd borne her treasure home, where her mother, Samantha, had praised her work profusely. When Naomi had informed Sam of who the painting was for, the ensign had nodded wisely, and praised her daughter again for being so generous. She'd even helped Naomi to wrap the gift in some leftover birthday paper.

Now that she was in the cargo bay though, the idea seemed so silly, especially with Seven hunched over her workstation and appearing to be so busy. Naomi began to back out, deciding that perhaps another day would be better. But her smaller feet got tangled and she ended up tumbling backwards and landing on the rolled tube, crushing the contents loudly.

"Oh fiddlesticks!" she cried out.

Seven of Nine looked up from her console, her optical implant arched high on her forehead.

"Naomi Wildman. Do you require assistance?" She took a hesitant step toward the child, who had, by now, regained her footing and was staring dejectedly at the gift lying misshapen and bruised at her feet. "Have you damaged yourself?"

"No, I'm fine, Seven," said the little girl quickly, scooping up the evidence of her mishap and clutching it to her chest, wondering how she was going to get out of the cargo bay without Seven seeing it. "I'm, um, I'm sorry for interrupting your work. I, uh, I have to go now."

She managed three quick and crinkling strides.

"Naomi Wildman, stop."

The Ktarian child froze in mid-stride.

"Turn around."

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Naomi slowly turned around, the ruined gift and its festive paper bright against her taupe jumper. Seven's face softened almost imperceptibly when she saw the colorful paper and matching ribbon. Not many people would have noticed the change in her features, but Naomi was a perceptive and intelligent child…and Seven's friend.

"What are you carrying?"

The silliness of her whole idea topped with the embarrassment of having fallen made Naomi consider lying to the Borg, knowing Seven would accept almost anything she said. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Not when Seven was so close to that expression that was almost a smile.

"It's a -- well, it was a present," said Naomi sadly. "For you," she added unnecessarily, just for something more to say. Her face suddenly turned bright red and she looked at the floor.

"For me? It is not my day of birth. Explain." Seven asked, as she knelt to look Naomi in the eye.

Naomi's cheeks grew darker and she said, "I just wanted to do something nice for you Seven. You're my friend and friends give each other gifts and ..." she began to babble, "but now I've been an absolute klutz and fallen on it and ruined it!"

Seven cocked her head at Naomi's plaintive cry and said, "May I see it?" Wordlessly, Naomi handed over the crushed package. Carefully, Seven unwrapped the paper and ribbons, revealing the somewhat bent and crushed tube of white butcher paper. She removed the tube and unrolled it, smiling brightly when the brilliantly colored spirals and flecks of glitter were unveiled. "This is wonderful, Naomi. I will enjoy this always."

Naomi, who'd closed her eyes tightly, blinked and then flung herself at Seven, hugging her tightly. "You think so? You will? Really? OhSeventhankyouthankyou! You're my bestest, bestest friend ever!"

Seven caught the small bundle of energy and hugged her back, if a bit awkwardly. "You are welcome, Naomi Wildman. You are my best friend too."

Naomi let go, smiling hugely. "Come play kadis-kot with me?" she batted her eyes coyly and shuffled her feet.

Seven smiled back, touched deeply by the gesture and the open offer of friendship. "Of course. First I must store this away safely, until I can return and properly frame it," she indicated the painting, which she re-rolled then placed in a drawer in her work station.

Then she walked back over to Naomi and together, the exited the cargo bay.

***

In her ready room Captain Kathryn Janeway was going over the monthly personnel reports with her first officer, Chakotay. She was also composing letters of sorrow to parents of recently deceased crew, a duty she hated, but one she clung to as hers alone. Only she could bear the guilt of their deaths, she would not portion that out to any other.

Dear Mrs. UmQadir,

It is with great sorrow…

Kathryn looked at the words and made a disgusted sound, starting the entire letter over.

It is with a heavy heart that I must bear the news of your son's death.

The auburn-haired woman sighed. Was this all there was for her? The burden of this blood on her hands and another thirty years of heavy hearts and such unbearable loneliness?

She pushed the PADD away and reached for her coffee cup, swallowing the cold, bitter liquid with relief.

Chakotay regarded her with concern.

"It's time to call it a day when you start drinking cold coffee and liking it, Kathryn," he said, gentling his suggestion with his own brand of teasing humor.

Kathryn looked at the cup and set it down with a smirk.

"No such luxury for this captain, Chakotay. There's work to be done." She chose a PADD from the stack next to him and activated it, disappointed -- for no reason she could determine -- that it was not a report from her Astrometrics department.

Chakotay sighed and tried again.

"There's nothing here that can't keep until tomorrow, Captain," he said. "Even if we do find a wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant in the next fifteen minutes, I don't think Starfleet will mind if we don't have the monthly ration usage reports calculated and recorded." His crooked grin lightened his usually wooden features.

Kathryn blinked.

"And suppose, Commander -- hypothetically, of course -- that I did call it a day. What would I do?"

Chakotay, seeing that he might be inadvertently winning the battle, if not the war, let a full grin split his face, crinkling the tribal tattoo that marked him as a member of his mother's people. He leaned back in his chair and spread his hands in question.

"Begging the captain's pardon, but I think you are entitled to do whatever you want. It is your ship, after all."

Kathryn Janeway favored her first officer with a cool, blue gaze.

"Starfleet would frown on that attitude, Commander. What if I were the sort of captain who got her kicks from flying through poisonous gas nebulas or from engaging the Hirogen in hunting tournaments?"

"You mean you're not?"

If he hadn't had that boyishly disarming look of innocence and earnest confusion on his face, Kathryn might have been startled by that assessment. Instead, she chuckled ruefully.

"You know, you could spend the rest of this journey counseling the dust motes in the brig." Janeway suggested with a grin, while tossing the PADD onto the desk near the others.

"But I won't," he retorted.

"No. You won't. I suppose I'll just have to console myself with shooing you out of my ready room so that I can go to my quarters and eat something."

Chakotay leaned forward and smiled gently. "You could always come to mine -- and share my evening meal."

Kathryn smiled, but shook her head. "No, not this time, Chakotay. Tonight, I think I'd like to curl up on my sofa with a good book, a nice cup of tea and some Dvorak." Chakotay tried hard not to let his disappointment show, but some of it leaked through in the lines around his dark brown eyes. Janeway leaned over the desk and placed her hand on top of his arm. "I'm sorry, but you know the time for that has passed," she said softly. They both knew what she was talking about. Once, not so long ago, they might have been more than just captain and first officer, but there was never enough time, enough space for them. They had had to command and lead, not race off into the shadows for clandestine meetings. Any chance for a relationship beyond friendship had passed, as their hearts had grown to desire others.

Chakotay had recently discovered a fondness for Marla Gilmore, once an ensign aboard the starship Equinox and now a crewman on Voyager. Something about the way her eyes lost the shadow of fear around him touched him deeply, and he had begun to quietly court her. Still, Kathryn would always own a chunk of his heart, and he had no trouble showing that to her.

"Why don't you invite Crewman Gilmore instead?" Janeway suggested, with only the slightest edge to her voice. She still hadn't quite forgiven the crew of the Equinox for their misdeeds, and she was unsure if she ever would.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I, Kathryn?"

An enigmatic smile was her only answer.

"All right. I'll invite Gilmore to my quarters if you invite Seven of Nine to yours."

A startled silence descended around Kathryn before she could cover her surprise. Ice brittled her gaze and then melted just as suddenly, a spring thaw. As if she was relieved that someone had seen what she had only recently allowed herself to feel, fully and completely.

"Deal," she said quietly, simply. No denials. No dissembling.

If Chakotay had been startled before, he was nearly floored now. Was it Seven's recent abduction that gave his captain pause enough to reconsider her self-imposed isolation? Or was it watching another captain come to the realization that long-held beliefs weren't necessarily ones you wanted to hold onto? Perhaps it was simply watching another captain running out of time, knowing he had regrets never reconciled and potential never fulfilled. Whatever it was, there was a time not too long ago that his presumptuous assumption would have been met with steel and silence, not the open gaze that held his own right now.

"Now get out of my office before I change my mind."

The commander scrambled up out of the chair as if it were on fire.

"Yes, ma'am." He caught himself just before he saluted, feeling rather silly all of a sudden. "And Captain?"

Kathryn eyed him witheringly. "Yes, Commander?"

"Have fun." The thrown PADD missed his head by the thinnest of margins.

"Out!"

***

Seven returned to cargo bay two after playing kadis-kot for nearly an hour with Naomi. They had returned to the young child's quarters where Samantha had replicated cookies and milk for them while they played rounds of the strategy game that Seven had grown to like. She had also grown to love the plain sugar cookies that Sam made for Naomi, enjoying the way the wafer thin treats melted on her tongue, leaving behind a sweet aftertaste that lingered for several seconds. Even now, as she cleaned up the area around her alcove, she could still taste the sweetness of the cookies.

I wonder if the captain's lips are as sweet? she thought suddenly, reminded of how she had spent much of the morning's briefing staring at Kathryn's face, memorizing each of the lines and shapes and comparing them to the features she'd memorized the day before. She didn't recall when she'd started watching Kathryn Janeway with more than a casual eye, she only knew that the feelings the woman generated in her were what the doctor would call "love".

After clearing away the few things that had cluttered around the alcove, she went to her console and checked for personal messages. Rarely, she would have an intraship memo from another crewmember -- usually inviting her to Sandrine's, or in the doctor's case, to voice lessons -- but sometimes, she would have a real message from one of her few friends. Naomi Wildman. Tom Paris. Tuvok. And Kathryn Janeway. Four life forms among many who felt close enough to her to send her private greetings.

There were messages. Several from Naomi. These she set aside for later reading. One from Tom, inviting her to Sandrine's two days from now to celebrate. And one message from Kathryn.

Seven:

Please do me the honor of joining me in my quarters for dinner tonight.

Thank you,

Capt. K.Janeway

Seven caressed the screen. A dinner invitation! Quickly, she ran through the doctor's protocols regarding "dating" and recognized that this did, indeed, resemble the offer of a date. Her neural processors nearly scrambled as she tried to determine what to wear. Her fingers flew over the keypad, calling up various designs the doctor had provided her with--her traditional biometric suit was simply not sufficient.

After careful consideration of several outfits of varying styles and levels of formality, she finally chose the one that was secretly her favorite. Its uncomplicated, elegant lines appealed to her sense of simplicity. The color, which she had chosen herself, was fast becoming her favorite color, usurping the bold red that had been her favorite as a child...before the Borg had assimilated her. And the silky fabric delighted her in ways she was hesitant to admit, new as she was to the concepts of pleasure and preference.

She replicated the garment quickly, momentarily surprised by the inclusion of matching shoes. She was quickly gratified that the Doctor had been so thorough with his wardrobe program. Footwear was not something she spent a great deal of time contemplating and she was sure she would have been at a loss if not for the Doctor's attention to detail. Seven made a mental note to thank him when she saw him next.

With outfit in hand, Seven retired to a small area she had cordoned off with various containers. It was makeshift but it was private, allowing her a comfortable space in which to change her usual biometric outfits. As a Borg, modesty and nudity were inconsequential. Neither concerned her at all. But now that her Humanity was asserting itself, she found that both concepts were fraught with sociological mores and taboos, one of which stated that public nudity was frowned upon in most Federation societies. Since the cargo bay where she resided was essentially a public place, Seven found it necessary to adapt by pressing several drygoods containers into service as a wall, behind which she could not be seen by anyone entering unannounced. Which -- unfortunately -- happened regularly.

Seven changed clothes quickly, then retrieved the reflective surface she used as a mirror from its storage place. She was pleased by the clothing but was disappointed by the overall "look", finally determining that her severe hairstyle compromised the aesthetics of the outfit. With a few sharp movements, she unpinned her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. She had originally planned to utilize another of the Doctor's programs to choose a suitable style, however, upon seeing herself in the mirror with long, clean hair falling in delicate waves around her face, she decided not to change it. Something inside her believed Kathryn would prefer this "look".

***

Kathryn Janeway finished setting the small table in her quarters, trying hard to ignore the fleet of Romulan Warbirds battling for supremacy in her stomach.

What was I thinking? she wondered, quickly deciding she hadn't been thinking at all. For the first time in a long time, she had let her heart call the shots. "Out on a limb" didn't even begin to describe how she felt.

The chime of her door at exactly 19:30 hours forced all the oxygen from her lungs and her heart began to pound.

Breathe she told herself as she gave permission for her guest to enter.

It was an order she had a difficult time obeying and it became even more difficult when the door to her quarters opened, revealing Seven of Nine standing in the corridor, hair gloriously unbound, and clad in a simple, sleeveless shift that fell well above her knees. It was the color of a sea-storm thundering over the Mediterranean, making her eyes seem the color of a sudden break in the clouds, bright and clear and sparkling with light.

Kathryn swallowed and gestured for Seven to enter. "Seven, good evening. I'm glad you could come on such short notice." Seven nodded regally and stepped into the captain's quarters, leaving behind her the faintest trail of perfume. Janeway's heart beat double-time, using her lungs as a trampoline to attempt to lodge itself firmly in her throat.

"I was pleased to respond to your invitation." Seven said as she stood in the living area, looking around and entirely uncertain of the protocol.

Kathryn's body vibrated with the implications of that statement and she stood mutely while Seven continued her tour.

Finally, Seven stated, "your quarters are aesthetically pleasing, Captain."

The Borg's discomfort did much to offset Janeway's nerves and she let out a soft sigh of gratitude and came to Seven's rescue. "Thanks, Seven. But you don't have to bring out your book of etiquette for me. I don't expect or require it of you when it is just you and I. Especially not here, in my quarters. Why don't you sit down while I program in the meal?"

Hesitantly, Seven pulled out a chair that abutted the neat dining table in the corner and sat. She was very uncomfortable, but she was determined to adapt. "Thank you, Captain. I shall remember that."

"Kathryn. Since we're going to be so informal as to spend time together off-duty, you must call me Kathryn." Janeway grinned suddenly and added, "I try to leave the Captain at the door as much as I can."

"Kathryn," Seven said, working her tongue around the unfamiliar syllables and deciding that she liked speaking the word aloud much more than secretly hoarding its delicious flavor.

Janeway shivered at how Seven said her name -- it had rolled off of the Borg's tongue like music, warm and clean and full of energy. Quickly, she added a bottle of wine to the list of items the replicator was now depositing on a shelf. She opened the wine to let it breathe and began taking the various dishes over to the table, laying out the meal expertly.

Two plates covered with stasis domes were placed in front of each setting; one for Seven, one for herself. A loaf of sweet french bread and a dish of butter were also laid on the table. A pitcher of ice water and glasses joined the bounty. Finally, two crystal goblets and the bottle of wine. Kathryn filled each goblet to half, then sat.

Seven looked at the wine, knowing that if she drank the substance, she would become woozy, light-headed and overly glib of tongue. She also knew that she was already light-headed and woozy. Adding the third element seemed only appropriate, and she took a sip, pleasantly surprised when the wine did not bubble as champagne had, but instead, was cool and sweet.

"I like this," she stated simply, and took another sip.

Kathryn smiled. "I'm glad. It is one of my favorites, as well." She also took a drink, almost a healthy swig, then put the glass down and opened her plate, indicating that Seven should do the same. The steaming contents emitted a wonderful odor. "Coq au vin. I do hope you like it. I adore it and I made myself learn how to replicate it while I was still a cadet in Starfleet."

Seven, who had barely begun to eat solid foods the year before, gazed on the meal in front of her with some trepidation. But she was Borg and she would assimilate this meal and like it. Slowly, she picked up her fork and dipped it down into the dish, taking a tiny bite. When that did not immediately present itself for re-inspection, she took another. And another.

Janeway, halfway through taking her first bite, stopped to watch Seven first nibble at, then begin to consume with gusto, the meal that she'd replicated.

"I take it the meal meets with your approval?" she asked, chuckling quietly.

Seven's fork halted halfway to her mouth, a rosy flush creeping into her pale features.

"I apologize, Kathryn --"

"No, don't. Seven, I'm happy that you like it. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

The young woman smiled tentatively. "Until now, I had believed the taste of solid nutrients to be irrelevant. It seemed the most efficient way to approach an encounter with some of Neelix's…creations."

Kathryn's abrupt bark of laughter delighted the Borg.

"I understand. It took the crew some time to get used to Mr. Neelix's unusual culinary talents."

"I admit that after my first meal I wondered how Voyager had managed to avoid starvation for so many years." Seven's eyes twinkled and Kathryn was pleasantly surprised to discover that not all of the young woman's humor was accidental. A rush of tenderness suffused the older woman and she smiled a soft smile, one that started the blood in Seven's veins simmering. Seven's appetite for the coq au vin immediately disappeared, replaced by a hunger most unfamiliar to her. But she finished her portion anyway, not wanting to disappoint the beautiful woman sitting across from her.

After the meal Kathryn cleared away the dishes and asked the computer to play some soft music. Seven raised her eyebrow in askance and she explained, "so we can dance."

Seven flushed. "Cap--Kathryn, I do not believe that performing that particular activity with me would be beneficial to your health."

Janeway frowned, recalling reading about the aborted date with Lieutenant Chapman. "Seven, I assure you, I am not as easy to break as Chapman. Besides, I'll let you lead."

"Lead?"

"Yes. According to Mr. Chapman's report, it was only after he'd insisted that he lead that you had any difficulty with the dancing. So, I will let you lead -- control the direction of the dance -- until we are both comfortable." They assumed a loose dance position and began to sway slowly in time with the music.

"I am unaware of any time when I am not comfortable in your presence, Kathryn." Seven said, after they'd circled around the main room of Janeway's quarters once.

Janeway nearly tripped over her own two feet at the statement and she looked up at Seven, startled. "Really?"

"Of course. I have always functioned at peak efficiency in your presence."

"Oh." Kathryn didn't quite know what to say to that, so she kept silent.

Meanwhile, Seven was mentally going over the doctor's lessons for dating, trying to determine what the next step should be. After the disastrous events with Chapman, her attention had strayed from the Doctor's subsequent instruction and she recalled little of it.

Kathryn, however, knew exactly what the next step should be…and the very thought of it sent her blood thundering along passages that had been dormant too long. With a pounding heart she looked into the young woman's eyes, finding them wide and astonished, dark with something she had only ever dreamed of seeing there. Desire.

The music wandered on without them as they wound down, coming to a slow stop in the middle of Kathryn's living area floor. There were no words to say.

Kathryn lifted her left hand from its resting-place on Seven's shoulder and touched the young woman's cheek, fingertips whispering against pale skin. Seven's eyes fluttered closed and she made a soft, startled sound in the back of her throat, as if the touch burned.

As her fingertips followed the line of Seven's jaw, Kathryn stopped breathing. When they finally made pilgrimage to Seven's lovely, full lips and the young blonde whimpered "Kathryn" against them, her entire body came alive with an electric ache so powerful she was nearly unable to stand.

"Oh God," she said huskily, shuddering. She disentangled the fingers of her other hand from Seven's and brought it up, tracing lightly over the cool silver implant that framed Seven's left eye.

Cobalt blue met cobalt blue, an implosion of stillness and understanding.

"I can't stop this," whispered the captain, swallowing hard against the anticipation rising in her.

"I do not want you to," came the quiet reply.

Kathryn cupped the young woman's face in her hands and drew her down, noting with tenderness her delicate trembling. She brushed her wine-shaded lips tremulously over the Borg's.

"You're afraid," she accused gently, a whisper between touches.

"And you are not?" asked Seven, eyes closed again, dipping down to taste another feather-touch kiss.

"No," said Kathryn, lingering in a bolder touch, drinking in Seven's soft moan. "I'm terrified."

"Do you wish to stop?"

"No. You terrify me in ways I'm beginning to have an appreciation for," Kathryn whispered as Seven's fingers slid up under the edge of the simple blouse the captain had donned in anticipation of the evening. Warm metal and even warmer flesh explored Janeway's skin slowly, raising goosebumps with their passage. "Mm, Seven..."

"Shh, Kathryn. I am... going slowly." Carefully, reverently, Seven brought her hands out and around to the front of her shirt. Janeway tilted her head up so and Seven unbuttoned just the top button, placing a single soft kiss on the flesh revealed. Kathryn's breath exploded from her in a rush when the Borg's lips met her skin and she wrapped her fingers in Seven's hair and moaned.

"Oh God..." she pulled Seven closer, encouraging the younger woman's hesitant touch. Seven, emboldened, nipped Kathryn's neck lightly then brushed her lips in minute kisses up to the lobe of the captain's ear.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered, "I desire you."

A sharp electric surge radiated through Kathryn's body and she staggered a bit, then turned her head to Seven and kissed the Borg hard on the mouth, needing to connect with the woman who had moved her so greatly. In the heat of the kiss, Seven ripped the rest of the buttons off Janeway's blouse. Kathryn tore her mouth away from Seven's and chuckled, "What happened to 'going slowly', darling?"

Seven blinked, mesmerized, then said, "This is more efficient," as if that were the most evident answer in all the universe.

"Far be it from me to stand in the way of efficiency," said the captain, smiling wryly.

The young Borg responded by kissing the hollow of Janeway's throat, tasting the pulse that thundered there. Her hands slid around the small, athletic waist and then traveled up, under the blouse, pulling the smaller woman closer.

Without a word, Kathryn Janeway let the ruined material slip from her shoulders, hands returning to the silken strands of Seven's spun-gold hair, winding her fingers in the wealth of it, holding the young woman's mouth to her. Seven pulled back a little and glanced at the bit of lacy fabric that remained, fingertips slipping up over Kathryn's arms, trailing fire and ice, until they reached the whisper-thin straps and pushed them off freckled shoulders.

Involuntarily, Kathryn crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly shy though she had the greater experience of the two of them.

Seven was strangely touched by this hesitancy and she gently tugged the captain's arms away.

"I want to see you, Kathryn." She took a small breath and released the fastening on the slip of silk. "Do not deny me this." She stopped for a moment, trying to force her heart to calm. Then she looked up. "Please."

Kathryn dropped her hands to her sides, letting the garment fall away, baring herself to hungry blue eyes. Seven followed her intent gaze with dancing fingertips, making a soft, pleased sound and smiling wonderingly when the captain's nipples pebbled beneath her touch.

Kathryn hissed in pleasure, letting her head fall back, watching the young woman from half-lidded eyes.

Seven watched for a moment, her touch tentative. Then, curious, she intensified the sensations.

"This touch gives you pleasure," she stated, her voice low and ragged.

"Oh yes." Kathryn nodded once and swallowed, her mouth dry.

"I…give you pleasure?" The question was soft, barely a whisper.

"More than you could ever know," came the honest reply. "I have wanted you for so very long now."

"I am yours." Seven said huskily, as she lowered her mouth to Kathryn's, kissing her with gentle desire.

"All mine?" Kathryn asked teasingly, as she found the zipper that closed the simple dress that Seven wore.

"Yours," Seven confirmed, turning so that Kathryn could unzip the dress. She let the garment fall, and watched it puddle around her feet with idle interest. She nearly smiled at Janeway's appreciative intake of breath.

Kathryn stood back, gaping at Seven. The Borg stood before her, gloriously nude. She blinked several times, unable to stop from running her eyes up and down the perfection that was Seven of Nine. Implants, harsh reminders of Seven's life with the Collective, served to enhance the pale beauty of Seven's body, rather than detract from it. Janeway took another breath and said, "I see that you came prepared."

Seven smirked. "Do you approve, Captain?" The implant perched above her left eye rose in query and she gestured to her body.

"Wholeheartedly, Seven." Kathryn replied, stepping forward and taking Seven into her arms again. They kissed, skin rasping against skin and fanning the embers of their passion once more. Seven's deft fingers found and slipped briefly over revealed flesh and soon, they were dancing again, the music having continued, weaving a shell of delicate sound around them. It might have been odd, except that they were far too busy losing themselves in each other.

Seven kicked away her shoes and the rest of Kathryn's clothes soon joined the others in a pile on the floor. Then she drank in Kathryn's nude form with her eyes, memorizing each line and curve, knowing that later she would take out the memories and relive them at her leisure. When she finished her inspection, she said, "I wish to kiss you, Kathryn Janeway."

"Please do," Kathryn invited reaching for Seven.

Pale lips descended, touched briefly, then again, deeper, teasing the captain's lips apart with gentle insistence. Then all at once Seven deepened the kiss further, both women moaning as mouths opened and tongues tangled, the heat of the kiss igniting every molecule between them.

"I…am having difficulty…maintaining adequate levels…of respiration," said Seven, breathlessly, between escalating caresses.

"I know," soothed Kathryn. "Me too, darling." She let her fingers trail down Seven's back, slipping softly over cool metal and impossibly smooth skin. Then lower still, cupping the gentle curve of the Borg's bottom.

Seven gasped, a sound somewhere between fear and desperate desire.

"I…how…Kathryn?" she said, struggling to speak through the waves of arousal that washed over her.

Kathryn kissed an arc along the young woman's collarbone.

"Yes, darling?" She placed searing kisses on a shoulder, the swell of one perfect breast, and then lower still, capturing a cherry-pink nipple in her ardent mouth.

Seven felt her control beginning to slip. She was unsure that she could remain standing much longer and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out, startled by the heat and exquisite pain of this new touch. She looked down at her captain and the sight that greeted her immolated her very core.

"I love you!" she breathed suddenly, a small part of her surprised by the purity of emotion in the declaration. There had been no trace of Borg efficiency in her words, none whatsoever. There had been only Annika, only a Human heart crying out for completion.

How could Kathryn resist a plea so elegantly phrased? She could not. She released the younger woman and whispered, "Come with me."

Wordlessly, Seven followed as Janeway took her hand and led her into the bedroom. She was startled by the non requisition bedspread -- a soft quilt of spiraling galaxies on a field of silvery blue -- that draped casually over the queen sized bed. She was pleasantly surprised by the comforter's softness, velvet and smooth, as Kathryn sat down, then pulled her slowly down beside her, where she once again began to lay claim to the Borg's skin with her mouth.

Sensation rippled outward from Kathryn's touch, building in intensity as the older woman traced warm, wet designs on Seven's skin with her lips and tongue, stopping to nip and nibble at hard, sensitive nipples, then racing downward to dip briefly into a well of heat that nearly sent Seven into warp. Fingers joined the mouth and soon Seven's cognitive reasoning was somewhere in another quadrant of the galaxy.

Kathryn took her time, drawing loving patterns on Seven's flesh with her fingers, caressing millimeter by millimeter, watching and learning what her new lover liked and what drove her to the edge and what brought her back. Seven met Kathryn's fervor with her own, flipping the older woman over and coloring a raging line of need from the captain's lips to her knees and back to feast on dusky rose nipples made hard with need.

Thought and action merged. Kathryn reached for Seven, whispering, "Oh Annika, I love you so much... so very much," then she was slipping her fingers down the Borg's body, skimming the surface of heated skin until she slid inside, gasping at the slick warmth that encased her so tightly.

Seven cried out, a sharp sound of need, and arched her long, leonine back into the intimate caress. Looking into Seven's wide, blue eyes, Kathryn realized the inexpressibly incredible gift she was being given. She pressed close to the young woman, gentled her touch, and kissed her sweetly, looking deeply into eyes that held the whole Universe inside them. She reached for Seven's hand, tangling their fingers, a touch meant to ground them both.

"I'm right here, Annika," she whispered, brushing her lips over the corner of her mouth, over sweet, tender skin along her alabaster throat. "I want to go slowly, all right? I don't want to hurt you."

"Y-yes, Kathryn," whispered Seven. Her left hand with its filigree of Borg implants rested over her head, silvered fingers flexing with the need to touch and caress. But she didn't trust her control at the moment and, instead, kept that hand as far away from Kathryn Janeway as she could manage.

"I trust you," she added softly, tightening the grasp of her other, Human hand to convey that message.

"Oh darling," breathed the older woman. "I wish I did." She smiled softly then lowered her mouth, capturing the Borg's full, trembling lips. Seven's mouth bloomed beneath Kathryn's, allowing her slow, reverent exploration, allowing a depth of feeling to be shared between them, a wealth of sensation and desire that the auburn-haired woman could not ever remember feeling before.

Why did I deny this for so long? Her fingers touched softly, caressed slowly, not wanting to hurt or frighten the beautiful woman who was kissing her with such total devotion. She deepened the caresses finally, carefully as they rocked together quietly, a gentle rhythm that took both their breaths away.

Seven pulled her mouth away, gasping with the force of the sensations sweeping over her body. She opened her eyes and found Kathryn gazing at her with such loving wonder that she was unable to stop the tears that flooded them. Embarrassed, she turned her head, hiding her weakness from this woman who was never weak.

"No, Annika…please don't hide your beautiful eyes," said Kathryn softly. "I want to see you," she added, echoing the Borg's earlier plea.

Seven turned back, suddenly realizing there was nowhere she could hide, no place in the Universe this woman wouldn't follow her, no place she wouldn't bring her back from. She whimpered with the realization, knowing finally that it was love that had been her salvation, more than once. Knowing now that it was love that would release her soul into oblivion and that it was love that would gather her pieces back together, making her whole again.

Tears slipped from her eyes as she cried out, feeling the blissful disintegration beginning in her core, raging out along every nerve ending, every molecule reflecting the heat and light of a thousand suns.

"I'm here, Annika, darling," whispered Kathryn as she felt the delicate tremors begin. "Let it go. I've got you."

All at once Seven was the Universe itself, crying out Kathryn's name in one, long, aching cry….and Kathryn Janeway had never seen anything so lovely, so unspeakably beautiful as Annika Hansen, consumed by passion.

Seven came back to Voyager slowly, wrapped in the cocoon of love and warmth that was Kathryn's arms, her head tucked under the older woman's chin. Kathryn was stroking her back, humming tunelessly, a comforting sort of trill that sent fragile shivers of contentment through Seven's whole being.

She yawned, then stopped yawning when she realized what she was doing. "I am experiencing -- sleepiness?" She said incredulously, then stretched and yawned again, reveling in the whole new world of sensation that opened up. Muscles that ached in new and very pleasant ways pulled as she stretched and a huge grin appeared on her face.

"You loved me," she said wonderingly, looking up into the smoky grey-blue eyes that gazed down on her so fondly. Her fingers followed her eyes, reaching and touching, relearning the curve and shape of Kathryn's face and lips.

"Yes, I did." Kathryn said lovingly, continuing to caress Seven's back and spine, dancing her fingers over both skin and metalwork with equal affection.

Desire flooded Seven's eyes and her smile broadened. "Then…may I love you now?" Before Janeway could respond, Seven was pushing herself up then sliding her body over Kathryn's sending a cacophony of sensations skittering across the older woman's skin.

"Oh yes," said Kathryn breathlessly as Seven lowered herself slowly, kissing the captain's lips eagerly. Then Seven rolled to the side and looked Kathryn's body over, allowing the illumination of the stars streaking by to dapple Janeway's flesh with a cool, silvery light. Of their own volition, Seven's fingers began stroking Kathryn's arm, starting at the wrist and ending at the shoulder. Gooseflesh rose in the wake of the caress and Kathryn's breathing became ragged as Seven's touch moved from the shoulder to the collarbone. There, Seven turned her hand over, using the back of her fingernails to lightly graze the skin from shoulder to shoulder, then down, from the center of Kathryn's throat, all the way to her navel.

"Do you like this?" Seven asked, running her fingers back up Janeway's chest and over to cup a breast in her hand sensually, then pulling her fingers across the sensitized flesh and pinching the nipple sharply. Kathryn gasped, then moaned.

"Very much," she managed to say, then moaned again as Seven bent down to take the other breast into her mouth, rolling the now almost painfully hard nipple around in her mouth. Kathryn's hands flailed about briefly, seeking purchase, a hold against this inexorable slip of her control. One she finally tangled in silken tresses, the other found her pillow and gripped the soft fluff tightly as Seven moved from one breast to the other. When both nipples had been tasted and consumed, and Kathryn had begun to float someplace a million miles away from Voyager, Seven moved down the captain's body, kissing, nipping and fluttering her tongue over every inch of flesh.

Janeway's eyes flew open as she felt Seven settle between her legs, tasting her slowly, curiously, then returning quickly, to take a longer, deeper taste that nearly sent Kathryn climbing up the walls from the sheer intensity of it.

"Annika!" Kathryn growled, voice harsh with her need. Seven's eyes darted to Kathryn's searchingly, then she reached one hand up. Their fingers met and entwined.

"I love you Kathryn," Seven said, then resumed her tender feast. She kissed, nibbled and tasted Kathryn's intimate flesh, taking her time to learn just what pleased her beloved the most. She gloried in the flavor of Kathryn -- spicy, with a hint of a sweet aftertaste -- and when she slipped her fingers deep inside of her lover, she nearly lost herself in the shift and flow of muscle that welcomed her, held her, allowed her to share this beauty.

When Seven moved inside, Kathryn cried out, "Oh darling!" and Seven slid up Kathryn's body to cradle the captain close, moving slowly, gently, as Kathryn had with her not so very long before. They fell into the rhythm of each other, existing outside of time, space and Voyager. They were Kathryn and Annika, two lovers who'd finally found where they belonged.

Kathryn soared, moving faster than light, drenched in Annika's love and desire, caught up in the flame of her own passion. Then she spun out of control, a conflagration of chaos, tumbling, falling, calling out Annika's name softly as she landed finally in her own bed, held gently, protected and adored.

Tears trickled down both hers and Seven's faces and shyly, she wiped her own away. "That was... beyond anything I can ever express." She cupped Seven's face in her hands and drew her down, kissing away the tears in her eyes. "I love you, Seven of Nine," she whispered.

"I love you, Kathryn Janeway."

They kissed, soft and sweet, two alone, adrift in their own private sea of time.

***

Sometime in the middle of the night, Kathryn Janeway, captain of the starship Voyager, started awake in her bed, sighing with guilty pleasure as she stretched carefully, trying hard not to wake her slumbering lover. When she realized that no skin touched hers, however, she hastily turned over, suddenly frightened that the night she remembered had only been a dream, another in a long line of unfulfilled desires.

But Seven was there -- much to her relief -- sleeping soundly on her stomach, golden hair spilling across the dark sheets, one hand tucked under her chin.

Tenderness filled Kathryn at the sight and she reached out, letting her fingertips brush a lock of hair back from the child-like face and then slip down a milky cheek. Pale eyes fluttered open and focused, filling with light. A smile, rare and precious, followed.

"Kathryn?"

The captain nodded, leaning over to kiss the temptingly bare shoulder.

"Yes, darling. It's me."

"I did not dream this."

Janeway chuckled softly, relieved that she wasn't the only one who'd been worried about that.

"No. This is very real."

Seven reached out a tentative hand, tracing her lover's features and then running through the fiery hair, as if needing the connection of that tactile sense to finally convince herself. Kathryn's eyes filled to brimming with love for the incredible creature who touched her so hesitantly, so tenderly, not quite believing that -- after all this time alone -- she had found the courage to let this woman into her life, her arms…her heart.

"May I hold you?" asked the young woman softly, eyes filled with hope and anticipation.

"I was hoping you would, darling," replied Kathryn, sliding closer, kissing Seven sweetly and deeply. Seven's arms gathered her close and their bodies entwined easily, perfectly, as if this moment had been planned since the dawn of time.

Their languid kisses and soft touches seemed to fill rivers of hours until sleep crept back into the embrace, this time making Kathryn yawn.

"Several hours remain before morning watch, Kathryn," whispered the blonde in a delicate ear. "Return to sleep."

Kathryn made a sound of protest. "I don't want this to end," she said. "I don't want you to let me go, Annika."

Seven placed melting kisses over her lover's eyes and on her forehead. "I will not let go, Kathryn. I promise."

Full lips captured her own, overwhelming Kathryn with the most perfect kiss.

"Sleep now," urged the Borg, soothing the smaller woman with the slow, easy drift of her fingers, journeying down the soft skin of her back, over her hip and down to her knee, returning just as slowly simply to start all over again. "Sleep now, Kathryn," she whispered again. "I will hold you forever."

***

Later that day, as Captain Janeway stepped onto the bridge, she passed Seven who was heading to Astrometrics. She smiled briefly and nodded at her officer, "Seven."

"Captain," Seven replied coolly, knowing that they had to maintain a professional demeanor. She and Kathryn had talked for nearly an hour before their shifts began, delineating the difference between their professional and their personal lives.

Kathryn held no illusions about her ship or her crew -- as soon as one person knew about her and Seven's new relationship, everyone would know. She wanted to keep the simple elegance of their lives for as long as she could. When the time came, she would inform the crew of what they needed to know and nothing more.

They moved on, each heading to their duties. Seven continued to Astrometrics, where she would spend the day scanning the surrounding regions of space and the captain entered the bridge, where she heard Ensign Kim's report of the activities of the previous shift.

Once he was through, she relieved him of duty then went to her ready room. Soon, Commander Chakotay strolled in. She had just replicated a cup of coffee and was about to take her first sip.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I just wanted to ask how your night was, Kathryn." Chakotay said by way of greeting.

"I had a pleasant evening," Janeway replied nonchalantly, sipping the steaming beverage. She studied him narrowly for just a few moments, then added, "I see that your evening was eventful."

He flushed a deep red and asked, "How did you know?"

"Your collar doesn't hide everything, Commander," she explained, smirking.

Caught, one broad hand rose to tug at the collar self-consciously. "You got me there." He grinned and shook his head. "Well, I'd better go make sure Tom's still got the ship pointed for home." He turned to go, then stopped just before the door and looked back at the captain.

"Oh and Kathryn?"

Janeway looked up from her terminal. "Yes?"

"Your collar doesn't hide everything either."

A dull thud and the sound of spilled liquid followed Chakotay out to the bridge.

fin

09/27/99