Location,
Location, Location
by
sHaYcH
Standard
Disclaimer blather: These
characters are not mine. They
were not created by me and I'm not making any money off of them. They do belong to
Paramount and whoever else has a piece of the Star Trek pie. I will put them back no
worse for wear when I'm done with them.
Standard
Warning blather: Two
women can actually fall in love and have a consentual relationship
without corrupting anyone. Really. Honestly.
But, if such things bother you, there's a whole realm of
other fan fiction available on the 'net.
: )
Yeah, this took
a while to post. Razz
the writer: shaych3@yahoo.com
.
This is for
everyone who waited so patiently for me to write another story. I thank you. : )
Wind to thy
Wings,
shay : )
***
Personal Log,
Seven of Nine recording:
"I am leaving
Voyager. I cannot
stay any longer now that I have come to the realization that with
humanity and individuality come great distress.
Not the physical distress of pain, nor even the emotional
distress that I have suffered from countless difficulties adjusting
socially -- faux pas, the Doctor names them -- but from the pain of my
heart constricting in my chest each time I have to look at her.
She who
commands this crew and this vessel, and most recently, my human heart,
haunts my every waking thought. I
must return to the Collective and purge this humanity before it
consumes me and eradicates that in me which is Borg.
Even now, I reach up and trace the outline of my ocular
implant and wish that it were she who was touching me, learning the
shape of the metal and circuitry that I bear as a reminder of the
Collective's claim to part of my soul.
A shadow tinged with crimson distracts me and I know that
she has claimed the rest of my soul, and I do not ever wish it returned.
Soon, I will go. I will take a shuttle,
though it will not be the highly efficient Delta Flyer, for she will
have use of it. An
older Class Two shuttle shall suffice my needs.
I need only find a transwarp conduit and wait. I have no doubt that the
Borg will come, and with them, shall travel the blessed oblivion I
seek.”
Seven of Nine,
former Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix Zero One stepped away from her
console and onto the dais leading to her alcove.
Stroking the metallic shape of the familliar cocoon, she
wished that she could be cradled in its technological embrace one last
time.
When she was
gone, it would be scrap, the base materials so precious that they would
be recycled by Voyager into combadges, hyposprays and meals. Soon, she would be nothing
more than an entry in the captain's mission logs, and not the constant
source of querrulous irritation she had become.
She would be away from here, away from the torturous agony
that had festered in her heart for the last many months. The cold arms of the
Collective would welcome her back, banishing forever the terror that
Love and Humanity brought. It
was a comforting and frightening thought.
"Computer, seal
personal logs with Borg encryption code
one-one-seven-four-nine-eight-alpha-zero-six- beta," Seven quietly
ordered. When it
had completed the task, the computer chirped.
"Dim lights to one quarter."
The computer complied and Seven stepped down from the dais
and walked to the doors leading out of the cargo bay.
"Send a personal message to Captain Janeway, deliver it at
0900 hours tomorrow, have it read, 'Thank you.' and sign it," Seven took a deep breath
and bit her lip, "Annika." Another
chirrup echoed in the stillness of the cargo bay.
Calmly, Seven
left the massive space that had been her home.
Taking the lift to hanger bay two, she nodded to passing
crewmembers. Once
alone on the deck, she quietly boarded the small, Class Two shuttled
that had been mothballed after the Delta Flyer’s maiden voyage had
proven successful. Once
aboard, she sent a virus into Voyager’s main computer.
The worm would create a series of equipment and engine
malfunctions, allowing her to escape unnoticed.
Voyager sped
on, completely unaware of Seven's departure.
Through the viewport, Seven watched the ship disappear and
whispered, "Good-bye." Turning
away, she laid in her course and engaged the tiny shuttle’s warp
engines.
***
"Don't go." A voice, smoky with unshed
tears tickled Seven's eardrums. She
started, not expecting to hear that voice here.
A pair of hands descended on her shoulders, then cupped
against her neck. They
were warm and soft, and lightly stroked the silk of her skin.
Seven shook her
head, tearing herself free of those hands.
They were not -- could not be -- real.
"Computer, end
program." Seven
called out tremulously, a small voice in her nurturing a shred of hope
that maybe, just maybe ...
The shuttle
dissolved, leaving Seven standing in the holodeck, the holoprojector
grids bleeding yellow against the black walls.
The room was eerily quiet, but Seven's respiration and
heartbeat were so loud, it was deafening.
Yet through the clamor, she began to hear another
individual's breathing. This
one softer, shallower, familiar.
Still, she
resisted the urge to turn, to confirm or dispel the truth. Seven closed her eyes and
felt a tear struggle free and fall unrestrained to the floor.
"How can I
stay?" she finally asked, her voice harsh and ragged, as if she'd never
spoken a word before.
Again, gentle
hands touched her, hesitant this time, stroking her shoulder and back,
and unpinning her hair to ruffle the bright yellow strands. Finally, words spilled
liquid and golden over her. "Because
if you go, I will have to follow, and I don't like backtracking." Just the right amount of
humor sprinkled the statement, causing Seven's lips to curve into a
delicate smile.
Slowly, she
turned, eyes still closed. When
she'd completed her rotation, she opened them, biting her lower lip
apprehensively, but it was no illusion before her.
Captain Kathryn Janeway, dressed in the uniform that so
clearly defined her, stood quietly, with her hands resting lightly on
her hips.
"Stay, Seven. There isn't anything that
I am not willing to work out with you."
Janeway's eyes pleaded loudly, though the ever present
Captain’s Mask was sternly present.
Seven dropped her eyes away, unable to meet the intensity
of Kathryn's gaze. Janeway
stepped forward and raised her hands to cup Seven's face in them. "Stay.
You belong here. With
us. With..." Kathryn bit her lip
quickly and took a deep breath, "me."
Seven's
universe inverted. Suddenly
unable to stand, she dropped to the floor, clutching at the captain and
crying uncontrollably. Janeway
wound her fingers into Seven's hair and held her against her legs,
rocking slightly.
"H- h- how can
I stay, when I f- f- feel this way?"
Seven asked through her tears.
Kathryn released Seven's hair and knelt, taking the Borg
into her arms as she did.
"How do you
feel, Seven?" she asked gently, as she stroked Seven's back.
"I- I- I do
not, I have not the words to describe what the emotions are that erupt
so forcefully in my breast; I only know that you are the cause." Seven replied after
several seconds of silence. Janeway
pulled back and smoothed away the tears that leaked from Seven's eyes.
"I am?" she
asked shyly. "Are
they good feelings?"
Seven nodded
wordlessly, then said, "I think so.
They make me feel good."
Seven frowned, confusion filling her voice and she said,
"Yet, I feel bad, knowing you do not share them."
Kathryn smiled
sadly, then said, "how do you know that?"
Seven lowered
her head again, studying the holodeck floor.
"Because if you did, you would have informed me before
this," she mumbled.
"Seven,
sometimes people don't always say the things they need -- or want -- to
say. Especially
when it has to do with something complicated, like their feelings."
Hope flickered
to life within the Borg. She
looked up, eyes still brimming with moisture.
"Have you said all that you -- want -- to say?"
Kathryn shook
her head slowly. "No. I haven't."
Suddenly shy,
Seven pulled away from Janeway. Standing
quickly, she walked several paces away.
Yet she could not stay distant for long.
Soon, she was back beside the captain, helping the older
woman to stand. "Will
you tell me -- what it is you have to say?" she asked, hopefully.
"Yes. I will -- in my own time,
Seven. I'm not as
experienced at this sort of thing as you might expect," Kathryn said
dryly as she allowed the younger woman to pull her up.
The captain straightened her tunic and took a breath. "And I most certainly
don't want to tell you here, in the middle of the holodeck."
Seven cocked
her head to the side, confusion coloring her features.
"I do not understand.
Location has bearing on this discussion?"
Janeway opened
her mouth to answer, then stopped, and smiled.
"Not really, other than my own sense of comfort. I would feel more
comfortable talking about this in more -- private -- surroundings."
"But we are
private, here."
Kathryn
chuckled wryly. "Got
me there." She
started pacing around the empty room, chafing her hands together. Her fingers were tingling
fiercely. She's got you Katie.
She's got you good, doesn't she?
Well? What
are you waiting for? A
sign from God? Tell
her. Better yet --
kiss her. Show her
that what she feels isn't falling into a singularity, her
internal voice mocked her as she walked.
"You are not
comfortable here."
"No." Kathryn saw no reason to
dissemble. "But you
deserve your answer." She
took a deep breath and said, "I..."
"Why don't we
change our location?" Seven
suggested suddenly. Janeway's
mouth clamped shut with an audible snap.
"Okay. Good.
Yes. Another
place. Good idea,
Seven. How about..."
"The mess hall?" Seven offered helpfully.
Kathryn
shuddered at the thought of baring her soul to Seven with Voyager's
usual hodgepodge of crewment as an audience.
"No, I don't think so.
I was going to suggest my quarters."
Seven's face
was transformed by a smile so powerful, Janeway thought her heart would
metamorphose into a butterfly and burst free of her chest to fly away,
dancing in the light of it for the rest of her days.
"Your choice is
acceptable, Captain," Seven said, turning to leave the holodeck.
They left
together, though they walked apart, as if unable to cross that final
barrier that lay between them and whatever the next few moments would
bring. Kathryn's
mind was a whirl of thought and emotion, as instinct and logic warred,
each trying to overtake the other.
In the end, as they stood before her rooms, her heart won
and she walked forward, automatically opening the door to her quarters. She stopped just a pace
inside and looked at Seven. "Come
in, please," she said softly, trying to convey in her voice more than
just the permission to enter her living space.
She stepped aside as Seven brushed passed her, her skin
electrified by the mere passage of the Borg.
Seven looked
around at the captain's spacious quarters, noting the piles of padds,
books and other accouterments that Janeway had acquired over the past
five years and said, "Your living space is very -- comfortable."
A short bark of
laughter erupted from the captain.
"Well, I suppose that's better than what Chakotay said the
last time he was here."
Seven froze and
stiffly asked, "What did the commander say?"
Kathryn
chuckled, remembering, "He said that it reminded him of a first year
cadet's dorm room."
The Borg nodded. "It is within the
Collective memory that the young of many races -- especially Humans --
appear to have difficulty keeping their living quarters orderly. It is one of the many
undesirable traits the Collective removes from new drones. Order must be maintained
at all times, so that the Collective may function at peak efficiency."
Janeway's face
lost all mirth. "Seven,
we didn't come here to discuss Borg housekeeping methods, did we?"
The captain's
tone shook Seven from her jealousy inspired funk.
Her shoulders slumped and she turned to face Kathryn. "No, we did not," she said
quietly. "We came
to discuss -- things unsaid."
Kathryn's dire
face dissolved and a smile took its place.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she said, "Talking has
never been my forte. I'm
much more of an action woman." With
those words, Kathryn Janeway tossed fear out the airlock, crossed the
room, reached up, took Seven's face in her hands, and kissed her --
long and deep, letting her touch and embrace convey what her words
could never begin to say.
Seven staggered
back under the captain's kiss. Recovering
quickly, she returned the ardor. The
Borg was unwilling to surrender completely, meeting the force of
Janeway's passion with her own, wrapping the fingers of her right hand
in the silky strands of the captain's dark red hair while gently
pulling the older woman's smaller frame closer, cradling her against
her body and drowning in the onslaught of sensation.
Kathryn
whimpered at Seven's honest acceptance of her touch, relieved that she
had not frightened the younger woman with her desire.
Her hands became messengers of her need, clawing at the
fabric that wrapped the Borg's body, pulling it away to reveal the
pale, pale flesh beneath; flesh that called out to Kathryn to be
stroked, loved and kissed. She
answered the call with her lips, painting a trail of love across a
collarbone suddenly pink with heat.
"Captain..."
Seven whispered, voice harsh in the silence of Janeway's quarters.
"Kathryn,
darling. When I am
in your arms, you must always call me Kathryn," said Janeway, her voice
deep and gravelly against Seven's flesh.
"Kathryn." Seven said it and
Janeway's pulse began to hammer a driving beat that goaded her on to
pull Seven toward her bedroom. Seven
followed, never losing contact, using her assimilated knowledge of a
captain's uniform to efficiently strip away the red shouldered tunic
and dark sweater that covered the skin she needed to see and touch.
Both were bare
to the waist as they tumbled onto Kathryn's bed, fingers and lips
communicating desire long held in check, and love unspoken for too long. The remains of clothes
found the floor as the two lovers explored each other, discovering and
learning the joy of loving the other.
Warm, gentle lips were laid in silent benediction along
skin never before caressed in love.
Flesh and mesh covered fingertips reawakened the love of
pleasure on flesh long left lonely.
In the
aftermath, they lay together, twined happily, blinking sleepily. Then, Kathryn found her
voice to say the words she could not, "I have loved you, Seven of Nine
-- Annika Hansen, longer than I can recall.
It has been your face and voice that has haunted my dreams
and it is your face and voice I wish to wake to every morning. I love you, Seven."
"Annika,
Kathryn. You must
call me Annika forever, for it is in your eyes that I became her. I love you, Kathryn."
Janeway sighed
contentedly and curled up in Seven's arms.
She yawned and said, "you know, real estate agents are
correct, comfort is directly related to location, location, location."
fin
12/01/02