Star Trek: Voyager

Snowbound

by

sHaYcH

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager, the characters and backstory all belong to Paramount and whomever else have a legal claim to them. I'm just borrowing them and I will return them when I'm done, none the worse for wear.

This story contains depictions of romantic inclinations between two women of consenting age, if this bothers or offends you, please find another story to read, thank you. : )

Comments can be sent to: shaych3@yahoo.com

This story is for my readers, who constantly badger me for more. Thank you : )

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It’s so nice to take a few days off and relax, Kathryn Janeway, captain of the Federation starship Voyager thought as she materialized on top of a huge snow drift. Even if the locale isn’t exactly balmy, it certainly is…interesting. She looked around her and took a deep breath of pure, unrecycled air. Huge drifts of snow covered the jagged fields of ice that made up the planet known as Glacia to its inhabitants.

"Oh that’s nice," she murmured appreciatively, nodding in greeting to a passing crewman as he beamed back to Voyager. The ship and her crew had been under a great deal of strain lately and Janeway was more than grateful for the break. We all need this, she mused silently as she made a quick circuit of her ship, taking an unofficial survey of Voyager’s status.

A tolerant smile twitched at the corners her lips as several members of the crew played in thick drifts of pure white snow that blanketed an icy plain near where Voyager had set down.

"I hope Chakotay gets a chance to see this," she said quietly, marveling at the stark beauty of the landscape. She brushed a few flakes of ice away from her face and continued to watch as the crew, with the help of the local alien population, repaired the ship’s hull.

Two weeks prior, the ship had been in a pitched battle between two Delta quadrant natives, the Kifor and the Dyran. They had fought their way out of the war zone and then encountered the Tirzana, a race that was almost 100% genetically human. Janeway had deemed it important that her crew interact with these almost Humans, exchanging information on their various cultures and the Tirzani Ruling Council had agreed with her. They had also offered to help restore Voyager and so, the captain had ordered that the ship be landed at the Tirzana home world’s shipyards.

To their amazement, they discovered that the Tirzani built their ships on the ground and then launched them into space, much like the people of 20th century Earth had done. Yet their technology was on par with that of the Federation, having developed a type of engine that would slip their ships into what they termed to be "null" space, allowing them to travel nearly as fast as warp. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres had eagerly bent to the task of repairing Voyager, spending much of her off-duty time in the company of several of the Tirzani engineers.

Those of her crew not engaged in repairs had either gone to the various underground cities that dotted Glacia, the Tirzana home world, or had stayed aboard Voyager, enjoying the delights of real snow. It was a welcome break for the Starfleet crew, as they had been functioning without shore leave for well over six months before encountering the Kifor/Dyran war. Even her normally stoic first officer, Commander Chakotay, had grown a little worn around the edges.

Kathryn sighed and stretched out the kinks in her spine. She hoped the good commander would avail himself of the opportunity presented by the Tirzani and take some time away from the ship. At the very least, she thought, grinning as she came to an area where someone had thought to set up a table with coffee and snacks, he could come outside and take a look around. Which is what she was doing, even if it was under doctor’s orders.

"I don’t care if all you do is stand in one place and look at your shoes, Captain. Get off Voyager! Breathe some real air for a change, it’ll do you some good!" the Emergency Medical Hologram, Voyager’s only doctor, said sarcastically as he gave her a cursory examination.

Wryly, Janeway grinned and said, "What if all I want to do is curl up on my couch with a good book, Doctor?"

The doctor had put down his tricorder and given her a stern glare. "What if I enter into the log that the captain refused to comply with the doctor’s orders?"

"Doctor," she grated evenly, "you’re treading on thin ice."

"What are you going to do, reprogram me? Hardly. Now please, Captain, just go outside and play! Run along now and don’t forget to put on your cold weather uniform," the EMH said while making shooing motions.

"All right, but only if you make the rest of the command crew do it too," Janeway warned as she slid off of the biobed. "I don’t want to be the only one out there making a fool of myself."

"Don’t worry, Captain, you’re the only one I’m worried about convincing. Well, you and Commander Chakotay, but I’m confident in my abilities," the EMH replied solicitously.

Janeway took a cup of coffee and continued to wander around, taking the time to stop and talk to several of the crewmembers who were still in the area. There were a surprising number of them, including Ensigns Paris and Kim, who were trying their luck at the local form of skiing as well as Commander Tuvok, who had been invited on a tour of the local magistrate’s office.

Another crewmember who had stayed behind was Seven of Nine, formerly of the Borg Collective and now a part of Voyager’s many faceted family. Janeway watched as the Borg, along with Naomi Wildman, the only child living aboard Voyager, beamed down to the planet’s surface. The child dragged Seven off to a remote area near the ship and tried to get Seven interested in playing with the snow around them. Amusement sparkled in Janeway’s eyes as Naomi patiently taught Seven how to make and throw snowballs.

Seven caught on quickly, and soon, they were pelting each other and anyone else who happened to come into range with large balls of the frigid stuff. At this very moment, Seven was laughing, racing after Naomi, who'd just dumped an incredibly large handful of snow on the Borg's head while chanting, "Resistance is futile, you will be a-snow-alated."

Kathryn was so involved in watching the melee between Seven and Naomi that she didn't even sense her own danger until it was far too late. Naomi, in an attempt to elude Seven's longer arms, had raced pell-mell toward the captain, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Then, just as she reached the captain's side, she veered off. Seven was unable to make a quick course correction and ended up plowing right into the captain, bowling her over, sending the two women tumbling through the snow and into a wildly laughing Naomi Wildman.

The three came up gasping for air. Janeway almost started to reprimand both of the cohorts, but the combined looks of absolute horror on Seven's face and sheer mischief on Naomi's stopped her. Instead, she grabbed a double handful of snow and dumped it on Naomi's head. Then, she grabbed just as large a handful and smeared it into Seven's horror-stricken face. Both of them spluttered, giving Kathryn just enough time to jump up and sprint away. Briefly, she wondered if she'd shocked them into comas, but the outraged giggles she soon heard told her otherwise.

Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to see Naomi and Seven stand, then gather fistfuls of snow and give chase. The three played for hours, until the sun began to set. They were just putting the finishing touches on a snowman of mammoth proportions when Samantha, Naomi's mother, appeared, wanting to know where her offspring had wandered off to.

When she saw the captain gently lift Naomi up to place a replicated cap, scarf and pipe onto the snowman, she smiled, a little dazed at the sight.

"There, now he's a proper snowman," Kathryn said, grinning.

"Will he come to life, like in the song?" Naomi asked as Janeway set her back down on the ground.

Seven immediately produced a tricorder. "My apologies Naomi Wildman, but there are no life signs present in this being."

Janeway frowned briefly, then hunkered down and whispered, "He'll dance in your dreams, just you wait. Now," she said, louder, "I see that your mother has come looking for you. I'd say it's dinner time for little girls."

Naomi looked up to where her mother stood watching them and waved. "All right. Thank you for playing with me today, Captain, Seven." She hugged both women tightly, than ran over to her mom, babbling happily about the day's exploits.

After Naomi had left, Seven looked at the captain and said, "I apologize for knocking you over earlier. It was not my intention to include you in our play."

Janeway laughed, brushed some snow off of Seven's nose and said, "I know ,Seven, and I'm not angry with you. Actually, I should thank you, because I had more fun today than I've had in months."

"You're welcome," Seven replied gravely, her blue eyes twinkling. Then she mashed a handful of half-melted snow into Kathryn's face. "You're it," she stated in a dead calm voice, and ran.

Several different curses rolled off of the captain's tongue as she gave chase, wondering what her Borg was up to now. The growing darkness made it difficult for Janeway to see and she ended up tripping over a snow-covered rock.

"Ouch!" she cried out, falling into a pile of white. Bright red blood flecked the snow where she landed. Dazedly, she wondered where it was coming from, but a creeping darkness stole away her consciousness.

***

She came to with a start, blinking her eyes at the startling brightness of a fire not more than two feet from her face. The heat from the flames barely cut through the extreme chill that pervaded the -- cave? -- that she was in, but it did provide some comfort. Janeway groaned and raised a hand to her head, fighting back nausea and dizziness.

"Captain, please lay still. You are damaged and require medical assistance," Seven's strident tones cut through the captain's vertigo like a phaser through paper.

Janeway groaned and asked, "Seven, what happened? Where are we?"

"We were playing-"

Kathryn opened her eyes just in time to see a wistful smile flicker across the Borg's face, "And you fell. You struck your head on a rock when you landed and knocked yourself out. I tried to contact Voyager for a beam out, but our communicators appear to be blocked by the storm. When the snowfall became too thick to see through, I located this cave."

"What storm? Snow?" Janeway asked, struggling to sit up. Seven gave her a hard look, but moved to help her, sitting behind the captain to provide a support for her to lean against as she got her bearings. Kathryn reached up and gingerly felt her scalp. Dried blood was crusted around a shallow cut and the skin was extremely tender. "What I wouldn't give for a dermal regenerator and some aspirin right now."

"I stanched the bleeding as best I could, Captain. I also utilized your phaser to ignite some dry brush which I found growing less than a kilometer from this cave. I was just about to go out and seek supplies when you regained consciousness."

Janeway nodded, then winced, wishing she hadn't. "All right, but again, what storm?"

"As far as I can ascertain, we are caught in the middle of a class six blizzard. There appear to be random electrical elements surging through the atmosphere, which would explain why our communicators do not function."

"I see," the captain said blandly, "and you planned to just walk out there in this?" Janeway reached out, took hold of a pinch of the fabric that made up Seven's brown biometric uniform and lifted it away from the skin of the warm leg that was wrapped protectively around her. "I think I'd better come with you." Kathryn made to rise, but a wave of dizziness rocked her back into Seven's arms and for just a millisecond, Janeway entertained the thought of staying there forever. "Maybe not," the captain groused, trying hard to regain control over her body.

Unconsciously, Seven's arms tightened around the captain, providing wordless support as the captain struggled with her weakness.

"My biometric suit is capable of withstanding colder temperatures, Captain. You are injured and require rest, I will be fine on my own," Seven stated promptly. Then she looked at her suit, as if seeing it for the first time. "The doctor's design is both efficient and aesthetically pleasing," she added quietly.

Janeway turned her head back to look at the Borg's face and chuckled, "Well, I guess you got me there. Okay, but I don't want you gone more than fifteen minutes. You could still lose your way if white-out conditions occur."

"Understood, Captain." Seven carefully stood up, helping the captain to prop herself up against the wall of the cave. Picking up a tricorder and the captain's phaser, she cocked her head and said, "I will return, Captain. Be well."

Kathryn was alone for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes when she heard a strange chuffing sound coming from just outside of the cave entrance. Quickly, she glanced around, trying to locate a place to hide. She spotted a large outcropping of the dark gray rock that made up the cave and dove behind it, wishing she had her phaser the whole time. The chuffing continued, accompanied by a shoosh-woosh of feet dragging through snow. A putrid stench of rot trickled into the cave and Kathryn wrinkled her nose. God, please don't let this be the Tirzani equivalent of a skunk!

Shortly, a fur-covered nose thrust its way into the cave, snuffling loudly. Following the nose was a grossly huge body, also covered in shaggy white fur, and the stench got much worse. The creature noticed the fire and lashed out with one shaggy paw, igniting a few tendrils of fur that hung down from the pads of its paws. When the flame reached its flesh, the creature let out a roar of pain that shook the cave and caused Janeway to shrink back even further behind the rock outcropping. There was no way she wanted to tangle with something that was almost the size of a hovercar.

The creature, still screaming in pain and anger, batted at the fire, scattering the burning brands of wood and raced out of the cave, whimpering like a puppy. Kathryn was about to stick her head out and see what she could salvage of the fire when more noise stopped her in her tracks.

Crunching footsteps echoed into the cave, followed by a blustery blast of cold air.

"Captain?" Seven nervously called out, dropping the large bundle of wood she'd gathered. The Borg's head and shoulders were covered by a thick layer of snow and she shook herself off, looking around the cave for the captain. The scattered fire alarmed her and she drew her phaser.

"I'm over here, Seven," the captain called back, standing up from behind the rocks where she'd hidden.

Seven made a face. "Captain, this new means of heating the cave is wasteful and inefficient."

Janeway grimaced. "Tell that to the polar bear who was my decorator."

"Polar bear?"

"Or whatever it was. Big. Shaggy. Smelly. Definitely not a fan of fire," Janeway said, her brain still slightly muddled.

"Ah. I see," Seven replied sagely.

"All right, Seven, why don't you just report about your little away mission and we'll leave it at that?" said the captain crossly.

"As you wish, Captain. I made a circuit of approximately three kilometers around the cave. I gathered what dry wood I could locate and was able to make a brief contact with Voyager."

"Voyager? How is she?" the captain interrupted.

"The ship is well, and so are the crew. Commander Chakotay reports that all are accounted for, either in the cities or aboard Voyager, which had to be moved to a low orbit around Glacia. He mentioned that Lieutenant Torres would not appreciate the strain he was forced to place on the warp core because of it. He also sent this," she hefted a large case that Janeway had not noticed, "with his regrets. At the moment, the transporters are incapable of transporting anything larger because of the energy discharged by the storm. Ensign Kim reports that the storm should lift within three to four days time."

"So we're stuck here," Janeway summarized.

"It would seem so. Unless the commander can organize search parties, which the Tirzani have told him are hopeless in these conditions, we are indeed, 'stuck' here." She dropped the case with a clatter and began assisting the captain in gathering up the remains of their fire, then rebuilding the blaze to much warmer standards.

Janeway thanked every god she could think of when her teeth stopped chattering. "Okay, let's see what Chakotay sent us."

Seven hunkered down and opened the case, revealing a small treasure trove of items. The first item to be removed was a medical tricorder, and when the Borg moved to examine the captain, Janeway stopped her.

"Wait. Is there a portable force-field generator in there?"

Seven removed a few items, then produced the requested instrument. "There is."

"Set it up, then you can play doctor." Janeway sat quietly while Seven stood a small apparatus up then switched it on, throwing a shimmering curtain of energy across the cave's entrance.

"We are secure, Captain," Seven reported, then picked the tricorder up again. Janeway made a face, but allowed Seven to play nurse when she pulled out a dermal regenerator and fixed the wound.

"You should feel less discomfort now, Captain," she said, putting the tools back in the box.

A low rumbling sound answered her. Seven spun, grabbing the phaser.

"Relax, Seven, that was my stomach. I'm hungry. Hand me one of those ration packs, will you?"

Wordlessly, Seven handed the captain a foil-wrapped packet. Janeway tore into the meal, which self-heated and proved to be chipped beef on toast. "Yum," she said, taking a bite, "I just love stuff on a shingle." A few bites into the meal, she looked over to Seven, who was busy inflating a mattress and covering it with a couple of the ubiquitous silver-toned insulation blankets that were a part of every Federation survival pack. "Seven, aren't you going to eat?"

"I will consume solid nutrition shortly. The doctor left a padd with instructions on how I am to circumvent the need to regenerate, and a precise schedule of meals is part of those instructions."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't wish to countermand the doctor's orders," Janeway said with a grin.

Seven threw the captain a look that plainly said she did not believe her and continued to make the bed, inflating a couple of pillows and placing them at the head of the bed. When she was done, she selected one of the foil-packed plates and sat on the edge of the bed to eat.

Kathryn finished her meal and folded up the remains, placing them in the still open case to be recycled once Voyager retrieved them. She looked for another one of the long silver tubes that contained standard bivouac bedding, but only saw the one that Seven had already emptied. Janeway swallowed nervously as she considered the implications of that.

"Seven," she rasped, attempting to keep from wrapping her mind around the scenario that appeared to be evolving, "Was there another camp bed in the case?"

Seven looked up from her meal, which she'd just opened. "This was the only one in the case, Captain," she said, and then added seriously, "I will take the left side."

Janeway's mouth worked, but no sound came out. Finally, she croaked, "Okay." If the Borg wasn't going to have any compunctions about sharing the mattress, then as a Starfleet captain, by God neither would she! Not even if it meant sleeping next to the wet dream of the Delta quadrant. Wet dream? Good God, did I just think that? Katie m'girl, you're turning into a teenaged boy over someone who probably considers sex an 'inefficient means of reproduction'.

Seven raised her eyebrow, causing the optical implant to creep toward her hairline. "You have objections to sharing a bed with me?"

"No!" Kathryn nearly shouted, then inhaled and added, "No, of course not, Seven. It's just that I haven't shared a bed with someone since..." she trailed off, not wanting to go there, either. Shadowy memories of New Earth flickered at the edges of her consciousness and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Seven was staring at her, head cocked to the side, confusion and curiosity plain in her face. "I'm saying this wrong. I'm sorry. I'd be happy to share the bed with you, Seven." To demonstrate her willingness, Kathryn got up from the rocky floor she'd been kneeling on and walked over to the bed and sat down across from the Borg.

Seven frowned.

"What is it?" Janeway asked as she lifted up the corner of the blanket.

"That is the left side, Captain."

Kathryn buried her face in her hands, then collapsed on the bed, laughing.

Seven rolled her eyes and opened her meal. "I fear that it shall take me much longer than I first considered to understand Humanity."

For some reason, that just made the captain laugh harder.

They switched sides after Seven had finished her meal, which the Borg had pronounced "nutritionally adequate". Then she wondered if the rations might be more palatable to the crew if they did not have the "taste and consistency of liquefied paper".

"Probably," the captain replied after she'd laughed herself out, "but then everyone would want to eat the rations, instead of the meals that Neelix works so hard to prepare." They were lying side-by-side in the bed, a nice, bone deep warmth building as the blankets worked their magic.

Seven rolled over, unconsciously tucking her hands up under her chin and said, "I have noted that Mr. Neelix's meals are met with less than enthusiastic appreciation by most of Voyager's crew. Perhaps another would be more efficient at creating more palatable foods?"

Janeway crossed her feet under the blankets and looked at the shadows that danced on the ceiling of the cave. "You're likely right, Seven, but being the ship's cook gives Mr. Neelix a sense of place within the structure of Voyager's society, and that is something far more important than having a superb chef."

Seven quietly assimilated that information, then asked, "Could you not instruct him to attend a holographic school of cooking on his off-duty hours? Surely he is intelligent enough to learn how to cook the styles of food the crew enjoys?"

"I could, but then that would ruin his enjoyment of the task. Mr. Neelix cooks because he loves it, not because it is required of him. We could easily appoint another cook, but I bet we would not find one that throws himself into his creations as wholeheartedly as Mr. Neelix does."

"Is this one of the reasons why Lieutenant Torres wouldn't be a Starfleet captain for all the latinum on Ferrenginar?"

Janeway chuckled and turned over on her side to face the inquisitive Borg. "Perhaps. Part of being a captain is knowing the strengths and weaknesses of your crew, as well as your own. Perhaps our fiery chief engineer has parts of herself she'd rather not examine too closely."

The banked fire crackled as a large log broke and sparks flared, dancing above the glowing coals. Seven was quiet for so long that the captain thought she'd fallen asleep and she was just allowing herself to drift off when Seven's softly spoken words called her back from the edge of Morpheus' realm.

"Is self-examination so crucial to command then, Captain?"

Something about the tone of Seven's question caused Janeway's heart to flutter rapidly and she struggled to slow it down. "N-no, not always. I guess it's just something I've developed on my own."

"Do you ever look beyond yourself, Captain? Do you ever examine others with the same microscope you put yourself under?" Seven asked wistfully.

When did Seven become so wise? How did she learn to see right into me and read my soul like a book? Kathryn couldn't answer, didn't dare answer.

"Are you not lonely, outside of the realm you hold your crew in? Do you ever wish to be a part of the group you lead?" Seven had lifted up, cradling her head in her hand while she pelted the captain with her questions.

Defensively, Janeway fired back, "Do you?"

Taken aback, Seven blinked and said, "Only when I am with you." Rocked to the core, Kathryn could only stare as Seven went on. "You, of all the members of Voyager, make me feel my Humanity. It is because of you that I strive to be as Human as I can be. I want to please you, to make you like me."

"Seven!" Janeway exploded, "You don't need to make me like you!" Fully awake now, the captain sat up and tried to gather her thoughts.

Seven also sat up. "I don't? Then how am I supposed to get you to notice me? To see me beyond the rest of the crew? How can I spend more time with you, if you do not like me?"

The words filled the cave, echoing in Kathryn's mind and filling her with a sense of quiet wonder. She can't mean... "Seven," the captain began gently, "I already like you. You're my friend and you don't need to do anything to make me want to spend time with you. I enjoy spending time with you and all you have to do is ask, and I'll be happy to join you for dinner, or a match of Velocity, or ..."

"Would you kiss me?" the words fell out of Seven’s mouth and danced in the air between them.

Kathryn suddenly realized that she was on a speeding train, heading straight for a solid plascrete wall and no one was at the helm. "Seven, I..."

"You do not like me, Captain," the Borg stated with deadly finality.

"No! I mean, yes, I do like you, Seven, but liking you and kissing you are two different things." How do I get myself into these things? Janeway groaned mentally. "Seven," Janeway asked slowly, "why do you want to kiss me?"

"Why? I like you, Captain. I am drawn to you -- attracted to you. According to my studies in Human behavior, my next step should be kissing you, followed by copulation, followed by a mating ritual that will bond us for life. Is that not the desire of all Humans?"

"Seven," the captain's voice was serious, "It is true that most Humans wish these things, in their good time. Love is something that cannot be rushed into."

"Love? What is love? All I have ever seen of love among Humans is pain. I do not wish to cause you pain, Captain."

"I never thought you did," Kathryn took a deep breath, "But when you kiss someone, there's always an emotional connotation behind it, such as friendship or love and what you are describing is love. Are you in love with me, Seven?"

"I don't know what I feel, Captain. I only know that I am somehow lessened when I am away from you than when I am with you. I want to be close to you, as close as possible, and kissing you seems to be a good place to start."

"A logical conclusion. Tuvok would be pleased," Kathryn said dryly, grasping for anything to slow the train that she was on.

"Then you will kiss me?" Hope lit Seven's eyes with a force that Janeway could not deny.

"Seven, I --"

"You will not," Seven turned her head, unable to look at the captain. Kathryn watched as tears slowly dappled the blue fabric of the Borg’s biometric suit. An unidentifiable pain surged through the captain and she took a shuddering breath, preparing to say something, anything, to comfort the woman across from her.

"I've never kissed a woman before!" Janeway blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. That was not what she had meant to say!

"I have never been kissed at all," Seven said simply, looking up and gazing deep into Kathryn's eyes. "I wish that my first one were to be from your lips, Captain."

"Kathryn," Janeway choked, not quite believing that she was considering Seven's request. "I am not a rank, I am a person."

"Kathryn," Seven echoed. "Will you kiss me?" she asked, her voice innocently sultry.

"Yes." Before she lost her courage, Kathryn ducked her head and brushed her lips over Seven's. Shocked, the Borg pressed her lips into the captain's and suddenly, the gentle contact that Kathryn had initiated was not nearly enough. Seven reached up and rested her hands on Kathryn's shoulders and held the captain close while she thoroughly kissed her.

Tenderness surged through Kathryn's body and she responded to Seven by taking the younger woman into her arms, pulling her close and parting her lips just enough to flutter her tongue over them.

Seven moaned, drawing back enough to whisper, "Is this love?"

Kathryn chuckled, "I don't know. Desire for sure... love may follow, or it may not. I'm not sure I'm ready to ask that question... after all, I've just kissed you for the first time."

"But hopefully, not the last?" Seven asked shrewdly.

"No, not the last," she panted, then added softly, "God help me, but I don't think I could ever just walk away after that."

Seven smiled, a shy, pleased smile. "What do we do now?"

Kathryn yawned. "Now, we sleep. Tomorrow will be here soon, and hopefully we will be returning to Voyager."

Together, they laid down flat on their backs and stared at the ceiling. After about five minutes of silence, Janeway said, "Come here, Seven."

Perplexed, Seven scooted closer, moving as Janeway directed until she was tucked up under the Captain's chin. A deep, soothing peace settled over the Borg, and for the first time since she was six years old, Seven of Nine fell asleep, snug in a warm embrace.

Silently, Kathryn watched Seven sleep, as the amazing sensation of holding someone in her arms washed over her. She knew there would be difficulties ahead, but those didn't loom so large that Kathryn was ready to discard the idea of a romantic relationship with her astrometrics officer. She did know that she and Seven were going to have to move slowly, to ensure that there were no accusations of favoritism from the crew.

Perhaps landing on Glacia had been a gift, Janeway considered, as sleep stole over her, because Voyager's repairs would give both her and the crew the time they needed to get used to this new facet of her life.

***

Dawn's light crept through the cave entrance, waking both of its occupants. Seven and Kathryn quietly went about making the bed, eating a warm meal, and then spent some time talking, discussing what they would do once they were reunited with Voyager.

Again, Seven surprised the captain with her maturity and understanding when she suggested that they keep their relationship between them for a while, taking the time to work towards a general announcement that did not stun the crew. When Kathryn asked where she had gotten this new wisdom, Seven had shrugged and said, "within Voyager's Collective, I find this to be the most efficient means of helping the crew to accept our relationship."

Janeway had ruefully chuckled, but had insisted that they tell Commander Chakotay. Seven's blue eyes had grown agate hard over that. "What's wrong, Seven?" Kathryn asked, wondering where Seven had learned such anger towards her first officer.

"He will be jealous and attempt to challenge me to a dual of honor," she stated flatly. "I do not wish to spend the rest of our journey in the brig."

"The brig?" the captain spluttered, "why do you say that?"

"Because I will have to kill him, and you would be forced to arrest me," Seven said it so confidently, that Kathryn blinked, taken aback.

"Well, I suppose that would be true, if he were to actually challenge you. Which I don't think he will do. After all, the commander is Human, not Klingon. I admit, he may grumble about it, but he is well aware of the fact that I do not choose my relationships lightly."

"I will not have to fight him?" Seven asked, sounding almost disappointed.

Janeway arched an eyebrow, "Do you have a problem with my first officer, Seven?"

At that point, Seven stood and made to leave the cave by turning off the force field. "I must retrieve more firewood, Captain. I shall return."

"Seven," the captain said, her voice low and dangerous, "we're not finished here. Is there a problem between you and Chakotay?"

Seven sighed. "I do not wish to discuss it."

"Oh, but you will. I insist." Janeway rose and walked over to face Seven, nose to chin.

Seven blinked. "The commander does not like me, he does not approve of my presence aboard Voyager and he does not trust me. Because of his dislike for me, he is more likely to put me in situations that are dangerous to me and anyone around me, as he did with the Ares. I fear that his hatred may blind him and endanger you."

Kathryn bit her lip, trying to think of a way to explain to Seven that Chakotay would not, could not, put any crewman, let alone herself, in danger. Finally, she said, "That is not true, Seven. Chakotay may have a personal problem with you, which you two will have to work out on your own, but he would never knowingly expose a fellow crewman to a danger that he himself was not willing to face."

"How can you be so sure?" Seven challenged.

"Because, it was Chakotay who stopped me from becoming a monster when we faced Ransom and the Equinox. I was ready to torture Crewman Lessing -- offer him up as a sacrifice -- just to get a tiny bit of information from him. Chakotay stopped me. He raced in to the cargo bay at his own peril to save a man that I had written off as useless." Janeway's voice was devoid of emotion.

Seven's face was stricken. "Why, Captain?"

"Because you were on that damned ship, in danger, and I wasn't about to let some scum-sucking, dishonorable idiot of a captain get the best of me!"

"You would kill for me?" Seven asked in a tiny voice, as if unsure how to understand what Janeway was saying.

"I would die for you, Seven," Kathryn said quietly, "and be happy to pay such a small price."

"Why?" The Borg's logical mind was fighting an overwhelming surge of emotion, one that threatened to unbalance her entire being.

"Because," the captain whispered fiercely, "just... because." She couldn't say the words that hovered, bird-like, at the edges of her consciousness. She wasn't ready to endure them just yet, so Kathryn gathered her "Captain's Aura" around her like a shroud and sat, stoic-faced, until Seven turned away.

***

An hour passed in utter silence except for the hollow shushing of snow piling up against the force field. Finally, Seven stood, dropping her silvery blanket to the ground and stacked some fresh wood on the fire.

"I should seek more fuel," she said woodenly.

"No," Janeway shook her head, "it's too dangerous." She gestured to the meter high drift of snow that was held back only by the power of the force field generator.

"It may be so," Seven allowed, "but none the less, you require heat, or you shall freeze."

"I'll be fine, Seven. I'll just stay under the covers." To demonstrate, she slid under a layer of the insulated material. "Now why don't you come over here and crawl in too, you must be pretty cold yourself."

"I am functioning acceptably, thank you," Seven replied, hunkering down and stirring the fire.

Kathryn sighed. "Have it your way, then," and turned over to sleep.

Seven's eyebrow rose as she muttered, "Humans!" She was agitated, and when she was agitated, Seven tended to sing. Unknowingly, she began humming the melody line to, "You are my sunshine". Soon, she was actually singing the words.

Janeway, utterly amazed, held her tongue while the Borg's liquid voice rolled through the cave, chasing away the chill and filling the silences with golden warmth. When Seven finished her song, Kathryn said, "That was beautiful, Seven. I didn't know you could sing."

"Actually Captain, you did. You were present during the Hirogen occupation of Voyager when they forced the crew to participate in their hunting games aboard the holodeck, where I was cast as a nightclub singer in Nazi occupied France."

Janeway rolled over and smiled wryly. "Yes, I know. But I don't remember any of it before I came to, holding you at gun point in that Nazi bunker."

"It was indeed fortuitous that Ensign Kim managed to deactivate the neurological inhibitors. I do not think I would have liked having you shoot me." Seven wiped her hands on her legs and stood. "We are in need of fuel, as I pointed out earlier. I will go and find some." When the captain made to protest, Seven fixed her ice blue eyes on Janeway and said, "I will go, whether you wish me to or not. Your survival is important to me."

Kathryn melted. "At least take one of the blankets with you," she pleaded, handing up the one she'd been wrapped under and gathering another over her to replace it. Seven looked pained, but accepted the blanket gracefully, settling it over her shoulders like a superhero’s cape from a holo-adventurer. Janeway chuckled, "You do that with all the aplomb of a five-year-old playing at being Supergirl."

Seven grinned and said, "That is one of Naomi's favorite holoprograms, we play often," and then deactivated the force field and stepped out into white silence. Kathryn scampered over and re-activated the generator, then shoveled the snow that had leaked into the cave over to a corner.

"Hurry home, darling," she whispered. Please let her be safe... I couldn't bear to lose her before I get the chance to find her.

***

Seven slogged through snow, not really noticing the cold or the wet. Tears froze on her face as she walked, nearly blind, toward the thicket where she'd had some luck the day before in finding wood for the fire.

She does not love me. She does not desire me as I do her. She is only humoring me, to assist in my development as a Human. How do I allow myself to live with her indifference?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not see the large paw that swept through the flurry of white. She never had time to react, to fire the phaser holstered on her hip. It happened so fast, that she never felt the animal’s claws shred flesh and biosuit, and she did not know when the white became gray. She only knew that in the gray, she did not feel, did not hurt and she welcomed it.

***

A few minutes after Seven left, Kathryn dragged herself out of her warm cocoon and began to take stock of her situation. Really, she had been acting like a first year cadet on holiday, rather than as the stranded starship captain that she was. Regardless of what Seven would say, she knew that she must come through for the Borg, and see about their rescue and return to Voyager. The first thing she tackled was the emergency pack that Chakotay had managed to beam over to Seven.

Inside of the medium sized case were more of the ubiquitous self-heating meals, as well as a week's worth of ration bars. These she disdained with a sniff and a sneer. The meals might taste disgusting, but at least they had a taste. Starfleet ration bars tended to have the taste, texture and consistency of old cardboard.

Next, she noted two wrist lamps, two tricorders, and two padds. Several data chips were included, and these she assumed were texts and treatises on survival in arctic conditions, as well as standard first aid manuals. She was surprised to find a couple of actual novels -- true classics like Dickens and Hemingway -- among the chips. These she laid aside for later. Perhaps Seven would enjoy being read to.

There was a medical tricorder, a dermal regenerator and a hypospray, as well as several small vials of multipurpose antibiotics and pain-killers. A type one phaser was also included, and Janeway frowned as she removed it.

"I guess I'll have to assume that no one told Seven about away team protocols regarding weapons," she said to the uncaring cave as she activated the weapon and holstered it at her hip. The weapon's weight was comforting, and Janeway began to mentally harangue the young Borg, prepping the lecture she'd give Seven when she returned.

What is wrong with you, Katie Janeway? she asked herself. First, you kiss her, then you treat her like a child? Make up your mind, Kathryn. Which is she, the woman or the child? Janeway sighed. It was going to be difficult to adjust to the change in Seven, and in herself. She'd known for a long time that her feelings for the young Borg were shading more toward the erotic and less in the maternal zone for a long time, but she'd forced herself to set those feelings aside, not wanting to push Seven into something she could neither return nor understand.

But now that the young woman had gotten there on her own, Kathryn found herself reluctant to allow those feelings free rein, frightened at the potency of her own emotions after almost five years of near celibacy.

Oh get over yourself, Janeway. So you're as horny as a boy on his first trip to Risa. Deal with it and go on. It's pretty obvious to me that she likes you, and you like her, so go for it. Grab onto what she's offering with both hands and don't let go! her baser self taunted.

"I'm scared," she whispered, knowing it for the absolute truth. Just the very thought of abandoning her carefully contrived captain's facade scared the living daylights out of her, and fear was not something Kathryn Janeway faced easily.

She closed the case and looked at the ice covered walls of the cave. Memories of another planet, in another quadrant of the galaxy played tag in the halls of her mind. Her body remembered the icy winds that swept the surface of Tau Ceti, but her heart remembered the icy doom that she'd consigned her father and her fiancé to. Ice filled her vision as she continued to look around the cave and she wondered aloud, "Will I fail you too, Seven?"

***

Two hours passed, and Seven had not returned. Kathryn was beside herself with worry. Finally, unable to take waiting, she grabbed her phaser, a tricorder and one of the remaining insulation blankets. Wrapping the silvery material around her like a cloak, she deactivated the force field and stepped out into the thick snow.

Immediately she was blind, but she acted quickly, setting the tricorder to emit a slight pulse that she could feel when she neared Seven's combadge signal. Then she set off in what she hoped was a spiral out away from the cave, walking until she felt the buzz. She walked, and walked, slogging through snow and mud and ice, not caring that her uniform trousers were being slashed to ribbons by the razor sharp ice that made up much of Glacia's surface. She lost feeling in her feet, calves and knees before she noticed the vibration that indicated she'd found Seven's signal.

Janeway stopped and turned. Her hands, numb with the cold, gripped the tricorder tighter, and she prayed. There, faintly, the buzz. She crawled through the snow as fast as she could, cursing the weakness of her body. Finally, nearly exhausted, she dug through a large drift and fell into a huge cave.

Inside was the thing that had scattered their fire the day before. It stood over Seven of Nine’s unconscious body, nosing the various parts of the Borg’s flesh and trying unsuccessfully to remove her biometric suit. The -- balrog -- her mind fancifully supplied, drawing on half-remembered memories of fantasy holonovels, looked up as she entered and roared defiantly, spraying her with an icy blast of fish-scented breath.

"Oral hygiene must not be your strong point," Kathryn said as she reached for her phaser.

The thing roared again and leaped toward her, extremely agile, despite its size. Janeway fired two quick shots and rolled away, firing again. The stench of scorched meat and fur told her she'd hit her target. Cautiously, she approached the animal, phaser still aimed at its head. Smoke spiraled up away from several burns and she saw that she'd killed it. The head was half-gone, disintegrated under the phaser's awesome power.

Janeway looked down at her weapon and saw that it had been set to kill. She didn't recall changing the settings, but she couldn't argue at their efficacy. A low, pain-filled groan drew her away from her examination of the dead creature. Carefully, she went over to Seven and crouched down beside her.

Seven's back was clawed from shoulder to hipbone, the fabric of her biometric suit having shredded like paper under the assault of the creature's talons. The white of bone blended eerily with the silvery gray of Borg implant and the dark red of dried blood and Kathryn winced in heartfelt sympathy.

"Hang on, Seven, I'll get you out of here."

Grim-faced, Kathryn shoved the phaser into her waistband, pocketed the tricorder and considered her situation. She had to get Seven to Voyager, and barring that, at least back to the cave where the emergency kit was. But she was also certain that the Borg could not walk, or even stand, and she knew from previous experience that she was incapable of lifting the deceptively heavy woman.

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes and she dashed them away, impatient and angry at her own weakness. Seven of Nine, whom she'd sworn to protect, was lying at her feet, dying, and there was nothing she could do. Once again, she'd broken the ultimate bond between captain and crewman, and cost another person their life.

Would you listen to yourself Kathryn Janeway? You sound like a bad melodrama! Get your Starfleet captain’s butt up and do something! she yelled at herself, growing angry at her own self-pity. Slowly, she pulled herself away from the edge of despair and began looking for some way to move Seven.

She was still looking when her combadge crackled to life. "Voyager to Captain Janeway!" The captain could clearly hear the red alert klaxons filter through the static-filled transmission and her worries about Seven were heartlessly crammed into a tiny corner while concern for her ship and crew prompted her to action.

"Report," she barked.

"We're under attack by the Kifor, Captain. We've sustained heavy damage on decks five, nine and twelve. We are on our way to join with the Tirzani defense forces. Ensign Talbot noticed your com signal and I thought it best to apprise you of the situation," Tuvok's voice was punctuated by static.

"Can you beam me up?"

"Negative, Captain. Lowering our shields would not be safe."

"Understood. I need supplies, though. Do you have a lock on my position?"

"Affirmative."

"Excellent, I want you to fire a torpedo housing filled with cold weather survival gear, a complete field surgeon's kit, a hoversled and enough rations for two people to survive for a month." Not that I expect to be here that long, but it never hurts to be prepared. "And Tuvok, whatever it takes, keep Voyager whole."

"Understood, Captain."

Janeway sighed. He'd send the supplies, and probably a few extras as well, knowing her old friend. She also knew that he'd do whatever it took to see Voyager out of this safely, even if it meant abandoning her and Seven to Glacia's wilds.

To pass the time, she searched for and located the rest of Seven's blanket and began tearing it up to use as bandages over the gaping rents in the young woman's back. Once she'd ascertained that Seven was still breathing, Janeway went about covering over as many of the wounds as she could.

Minutes later, the cavern shook with the impact of her requested supplies. Carefully, Kathryn picked her way around the still-smoking carcass of the balrog and went out to retrieve her treasures.

***

It didn't take long for her to cram her body into a thermal suit, roll Seven's blue-tinged form onto the hoversled and pack up to make her way back to their cave. During this time, she managed to contact Voyager twice more, discovering that Chakotay, Kim and Ensign Wildman had been injured and were being treated by the doctor. She'd also found out that the Kifor had nearly eradicated the Dyran with a weapon that destroyed living tissue at the cellular level. Janeway shuddered, recalling the vividly exact description that Tom Paris had uttered while Tuvok had been reporting.

"It was like wading through jelly, Captain, except that the flavor was Dyran instead of grape." She shuddered again, I've got to remember to tell Tom that he has a gift for the repulsive description, she thought as she slowly guided the hoversled through the snow.

The blizzard had let up some, and she was able to see about a meter in front of her as she followed the directions her tricorder spit out. She'd programmed the device to lock on to any Starfleet signal and hoped that it would lead her back to the cave, and the force field generator.

She walked for almost an hour, and was about to lose hope when she rounded a snowbank and spotted a glimmer of light from behind a pile of snow. Using her phaser, she melted away enough of the snow to reveal their cave. The fire was nearly dead, but the bed was there, and so was the generator.

"Force field deactivate, Janeway alpha-pi-one-one-seven," she croaked, and watched as the shimmery wall dissolved. She heaved the hoversled through the opening, re-established the field and pulled out several small heat generators, activating them and placing them around the cave. Next came two lamps and then she was ready to care for Seven.

She opened the surgical kit, removed the medical tricorder and a tube of sterilizing gel, which she used to clean her hands. Then she scanned Seven. Thankfully, the Borg's nanoprobes had repaired much of the internal damage and all that was left for the captain to do was to pick out the bits of fabric and fur that had become embedded in the wounds.

Two and a half grueling hours later, she stepped away from the sled and dropped the device into the case. She stretched, yawned and reached for a couple of the silvery insulation blankets that had been packed in the torpedo housing, covered Seven then rolled up in one on the bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Seven of Nine woke up lying on her stomach. Something cool and silken fluttered across her shoulders and the surface she had been sleeping on was warm and soft. Cautiously, she turned over to discover that she was completely nude, covered only by two Starfleet issue insulation blankets. Her bed had been a hoversled, and Captain Janeway lay sleeping just feet away on the air mattress. They were in their cave, but there were a few additions to their "home away from home". The chamber was warm and well-lit, thanks to more equipment.

She stretched, noting that her back ached terribly and that she was hungry. She also had to "go number one" as Naomi Wildman put it. Slowly, she stood, unconsciously dropping the blankets aside, and walked over to the area of the cave that she and the captain had designated the "privvy". A gasp from behind her caused her to stop and turn her head. Captain Janeway had awakened and was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face and watching Seven.

"Good morning, Captain," Seven said calmly, as if nothing were amiss.

"Good God, Seven, do you always parade around in your birthday suit in the morning?" Janeway exclaimed. Seven noticed that the other woman was trying to avoid looking at her, but failing. The captain's dark gray eyes roamed over the Borg's naked body furtively and Seven felt herself flush, as the hope that maybe the other woman would find her appealing flooded her senses.

"Only when I wake up naked," Seven stated, and then continued over to the privvy. When she returned, Kathryn had opened another thermal suit and was holding it out to her. Eyebrow raised, she took it. "Is my current attire unpleasant, Kathryn?"

Janeway colored, then coughed. "Not at all, you're an amazingly beautiful woman, Seven. I just thought you might be... cold."

"I am comfortable. The room is sufficiently warmed by the heaters, Captain."

"Well, um..." Janeway faltered.

"Perhaps too warm, as you are rather flushed yourself. Would you like to remove your own garment and cool off?" Seven asked innocently.

The captain groaned and dropped the suit, turning away.

"Kathryn?" Seven reached out and put her hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Do you require assistance?" she asked, not understanding.

"I'm fine, Seven," Janeway replied through gritted teeth.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

The pain in Seven's voice struck Kathryn like a slap and she shivered. "Because... because if I do, I'll do something I shouldn't. Not here, and not now."

"Why not here? Why not now? There is nothing you could want that I do not also want, as I want whatever will make you happy."

Janeway scrubbed at her face and groaned. Seven could feel the captain's shoulders stiffen and knew some internal battle was taking place within the captain's mind. Suddenly, Janeway spun around, nearly knocking the Borg over. Fiercely, Kathryn reached for Seven, crushing the other woman to her and causing the Borg to cry out.

An understanding so deep it had to be instinctual raged through Seven and she kissed Kathryn, melding their lips together in a bruising embrace that took their breaths away.

"That's why," Kathryn whispered when they parted. "I'm absolutely terrified by my own feelings, Seven. They drive me to behave in ways that I cannot allow."

Seven's eyes were liquid with tears. "Should I leave?"

"No!" Janeway clung to the Borg, afraid she'd vanish immediately. "No, I -- I don't want you to leave, ever. Please, stay," she bit her lip and looked up, baring her soul in her eyes and hoping that Seven could accept what she saw.

Wonderingly, Seven reached out and touched Kathryn's face, then pulled her fingers away, amazed at the depth of the emotion she could see in the captain's eyes. And I did not think she felt... as I do. "I will stay," she whispered, "forever."

"Even when I push you away with my fears? I -- I'm not an easy person to like, Seven, much less love. As a captain, I have to maintain certain protocols, and I'm afraid there's never been one for how a Starfleet officer and a former Borg drone should conduct a relationship."

"Knowing that you want me to stay is enough, Kathryn. We will create our own protocols, together."

Kathryn smiled. "I guess we will, at that." She kissed Seven once more, and then retrieved the suit. "You should put this on, though. Even if you are not cold, I'd rather not give any of the members of Voyager's crew even more reason to fantasize about you."

Seven made a face and slipped the suit on. "Perhaps you are right. I certainly do not wish to overhear Tom Paris discussing the size of my 'hooters' with his friends again."

Janeway frowned and growled, "If he were here, I'd punch him." Then she laughed at herself. "Look at me, I'm acting like a jealous lover."

Seven looked up at Kathryn from where she was making the bed. "Well, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A 'jealous lover'?"

Kathryn laughed, walked over to Seven and hugged her. "I think I might be," she admitted as the younger woman kissed her.

"I might like that," Seven replied, eyes twinkling. They kissed again, then began setting the cave into livable order.

***

The blizzard returned full force, punctuated by dull explosions from the battle above. Janeway had explained the situation with the Kifor to Seven after telling her about the "balrog" and why her biometric suit was in rags. Days passed as they settled into a routine of eating, sleeping, and talking. Periodically, one or both of the women would step out of the cave to scout around the area, but they were usually chased in by the cold.

Nights were for cuddling and kissing, though they did not go any further, wanting to savor the newness of their feelings. At first, Seven did not understand this, but, as Kathryn explained to her late one night, "some things are better savored, darling," and she sealed her words with a long, sweet kiss that left the young Borg thanking Omega that she had been chosen by the Collective to meet this wonderful human.

Three weeks passed and then, late one night, Commander Chakotay's voice woke the women from a sound sleep.

"Voyager to Captain Janeway," the commander sounded far too cheerful for o-dark-hundred, in the captain's estimation.

"Janeway here. It's good to hear your voice, Commander. Although, I might have to court martial you for your timing. I assume it's safe to come home now?" the captain replied sleepily, nudging Seven awake with a well-placed toe.

Chakotay laughed and said, "Yes, Kathryn, it's safe. We drove off the Kifor yesterday and the Tirzana have graciously allowed us the use of their shipyards once again. Voyager is in orbit as we speak."

"Wonderful. Well, just let me get presentable and then you can beam us up."

"Understood."

Seven and Janeway took a few minutes to dress and collect their gear and then Janeway tapped her combadge and said, "All right, Commander, two to beam up."

The cave dissolved around them in a haze of sparkles.

***

Back aboard Voyager, Kathryn was hustled off by an exhausted looking Chakotay and Seven went to Astrometrics, to oversee the repair crews there. Two weeks passed before Seven and Janeway had more than five minutes alone together. They ran into each other on the turbolift. Seven was just coming off two double shifts, and the captain was just ending a double shift. Three other crewmen shared the lift, so the women barely acknowledged each other.

"Captain," Seven greeted her, inclining her head slightly.

"Seven," Janeway replied tersely.

The crewmen got off, leaving the captain and Borg completely alone. Janeway rubbed her temples and groaned.

"Are you well, Kathryn?" Seven asked quietly.

"Aside from a pounding headache, lack of sleep and a kink in my neck from studying padds all day, I'm okay. How about you, Seven?"

"I am functioning acceptably, thank you," she replied. The lift came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal Deck Three.

"Guess this is my stop," Kathryn said, but didn't move to leave. Janeway chewed her lip, caught between duty and desire. She knew that she should just go back to her quarters and get some rest, but the opportunity presenting itself seemed far too good to pass up. Making a decision, she said, "Seven, would you like to join me for supper?"

"That would be acceptable, Captain."

"Excellent. Shall we?" she gestured toward the open hall and Seven stepped off of the lift, followed by the captain.

Once inside of her quarters, Janeway's nerves began to do a good job of reliving her first date. I wonder if this is why Mom insisted on programming the replicator back then, Janeway thought to herself as she wrestled with the recipe with shaking fingers. Suddenly, mesh encased fingers covered hers and she was being pulled away from the replicator and into warm arms. Of their own accord, her arms wrapped around Seven's waist and she buried her head into the Borg's shoulder.

"Oh God, Seven, I have missed you," she said after long moments of being held.

"As I have missed you, Kathryn," Seven whispered in reply, rubbing her cheek against the softness of Kathryn's dark auburn hair.

"I'm not really hungry, Seven, but I'd really like it if you would just hold me for a while," she sighed as she said it, not really expecting the Borg to agree, but wistful all the same.

"That is more than acceptable," Seven said, then scooped up the surprised captain and carried her off to the bedroom. Gently, she laid her burden on the bed, then laid next to her and gathered her up into her arms.

"Mm, this is perfect," Janeway said as she snuggled up to Seven, twining their legs together. Seven brushed a soft kiss across Kathryn's forehead and murmured her assent. Slowly, they fell asleep, drifting off in a wonderful haze of exhaustion and happiness.

***

The door chime shook Kathryn from her nap and she untangled herself from Seven, leaving the Borg to sleep while she answered her door. This had better be important, she thought as she futilely ran a hand through her sleep-mussed hair.

The chime sounded again, almost insistently and she barked, "All right, all right, I'm on my way!" Quickly, she picked up a couple of padds that had fallen when Seven had carried her off to bed... delicious thoughts danced in her head from the implications of that action, even though nothing had happened, yet... and then she walked to her door.

"Come in," she ordered softly.

The door slid open to reveal Commander Chakotay. He was smiling, his eyes twinkling merrily and he said teasingly, "Good evening, Kathryn. I hope I didn't wake you." He allowed himself a moment to gaze adoringly at her somewhat rumpled appearance.

"As a matter of fact..." she began, then she noticed the two crystal goblets and bottle he was bearing. She leaned against her doorway and nodded toward his burden. "What's the occasion?"

"What?" he asked, pulling himself from her eyes. "Oh, well, I thought we could celebrate your safe return to Voyager now, since we're finally on our way again." He lifted the hand holding the two glasses and shrugged, "And I thought that you'd prefer something private."

Janeway smiled fondly and said, "Oh, Chakotay..."

It was then that Seven woke up, hearing voices. She called out, "Kathryn? Is there a problem?"

The first officer's face lost all its color when he heard the Borg's voice, obviously sleep-tinged, filter out from the bedroom. He stiffened and said, "Pardon me, Captain. I see you're busy. I should go. My apologies."

Seven got up and walked out to the living room to see what was going on. Kathryn was standing in the doorway, talking to Commander Chakotay. Seven raised an eyebrow. She did not know that the first officer had the habit of visiting his captain in the middle of the night. Astrometrics officers don't normally visit their captains, either, Seven, her inner voice told her smartly, but she ignored it in favor of the unfolding scene.

"Commander..." Janeway started, then stopped, not knowing what, if anything, she should say.

Chakotay looked at his captain, then over her shoulder to the Borg who was now standing in the middle of the living area. At least she had the decency to dress first. Ancestors! I never would have guessed that Kathryn could fall for that... that Borg! He shuddered imperceptibly, remembering his own involvement with a member of the heinous race. "Captain, I really don't think there's anything left to say. Good evening." He walked away, heading back to his own quarters.

Kathryn shot a look behind her and gave Seven a "stay here" look, then followed her first officer. She caught up to him just outside his door and said, "Wait, I really do want to explain."

"What is there to explain, Captain? I obviously interrupted something private," he said acidly, disapproval written in the crinkle of his brow. "It's not my place to tell the captain who to date."

"We were sleeping, not sleeping together," she deadpanned.

"So you're not engaged in a sexual relationship with our resident Borg?" Chakotay hissed in response.

"No. We haven't..." she started to say, then clamped her mouth shut as the turbolift opened and Tuvok stepped off. "Good evening, Tuvok," she said politely as he walked passed them toward his quarters.

"Captain, Commander," he said, nodding to each, then continuing on.

When he had gone into his rooms, Janeway rubbed her head and said, "Look, let's start over. Chakotay, I wanted to tell you that some things, things that are private, happened on Glacia, and the result is that Seven and I have -tentatively- begun a relationship. But," she held up a warning hand as he went to say something, "it is only tentative. We aren't rushing, and I'd like to believe we are both conscious of the effect our being involved will have on the crew. And while I'm sorry you had to find out about it this way, I'm not sorry you did."

"Are you finished?" he asked, and when she nodded, he said, "I can't even begin to understand why you chose a Borg, of all the people aboard Voyager," his eyes were pained as they met hers. "You, more than anyone else, know how I feel about them."

She nodded, remembering his time spent with a group of severed Borg and how they had manipulated him into going against her orders. "Seven is not Riley, Chakotay," she said softly.

He snorted derisively. "They’re all the same, Kathryn. Can’t you see that? They’re all programmed in betrayal." He looked her over, nostrils flaring with agitation. "Besides, how could Seven possibly be ready for the intricacies involved in a romantic relationship? How could you allow yourself to fall for someone who could so easily endanger this ship and her crew? I don’t understand it, Kathryn, but I will do my job as Voyager’s first officer and make certain that your private lives do not affect the rest of the ship. If it is your wish to keep this -thing- private for now, then so be it. That is all I have to say."

Kathryn could feel his emotional walls go up against her and it hurt. The man who stood before her was not the Chakotay she'd gotten to know and love in the past six years. This man was the same suspicious Maquis rebel who faced her from the bridge of a badly damaged ship. She sighed and nodded, accepting his decision for now, but privately vowing to try to change it. She hoped he could learn to see beyond his hatred of the Borg and learn to like Seven.

"Thank you, Commander," was all she said before turning around to go back to her quarters. She did not see the anguished look her first officer shot after her before he slumped his shoulders and entered his own rooms.

When she got back inside her quarters, she was greeted by a site of domesticity that nearly made her laugh. Seven had cleared the table and replicated meals, using what she hoped were some standard Starfleet settings. She had also replicated two candles and was sitting somewhat forlornly in one of the chairs, staring at the unlit tapers and covered dishes with a look of hopelessness on her face.

"You look like you could be posing for Starfleet Wives Quarterly, Seven," Janeway said gently.

Seven sat up abruptly, disturbing the stasis lid of her plate. The mouth-watering aroma of pot roast drifted passed Janeway and she immediately sat down in front of the other dish. "I took the liberty of creating a nutritious meal based on information the computer provided, Kathryn."

"I wasn't gone that long, Seven. You didn't have to..." Janeway started to say and Seven looked a little sheepish.

"I found that I was growing... hungry, in your absence, Kathryn. I had hoped that you still wished to share your evening repast with me."

Janeway grinned, charmed by the Borg's honesty. "I would love to. Let's eat," she punctuated her comment by lifting the stasis lid off her plate. Mounds of roast beef, potatoes and green beans greeted her and she found that her own stomach was protesting loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten so well in the last few weeks. She took a hesitant bite, and was pleasantly surprised. "Not bad, Seven. This is good."

Seven smiled shyly at the praise. "After our conversation regarding Mr. Neelix's cooking skills, I took the time to study some simple recipes," she flushed slightly, "cooking is not as easy as I was led to believe. I have acquired a new appreciation for Mr. Neelix's dedication to his duty, even though I do not enjoy his cooking."

Janeway laughed and said, "No one said you had to, darling. But I'm glad you learned something new, especially," she gestured to her fork, "if it means that you can make this wonderful meal again sometime."

"I will make it anytime you ask, Kathryn."

"Wonderful," Janeway smiled at her girlfriend. Girlfriend? God, that sounds so Academy. There's got to be a better term for what Seven is to me...

They finished their meal and Kathryn cleaned up, telling Seven that it was only fair since the Borg had cooked the meal. Seven amiably agreed, and watched with amused eyes while Kathryn picked up their plates and other dishes and recycled them quickly. When Kathryn was finished, she rubbed her hands down her thighs nervously. Now what? Sleeping? Her libido woke up and started dancing around, reminding her that it had been far too long since she'd had a good roll in the hay. No, that isn't on my list of things to do tonight. As much as I would enjoy making love to Seven... God, I have to start calling her Annika, too. She's not a number, not a Borg drone anymore. She deserves that respect from me in private, at least.

"Well, what would you like to do now, Seven?"

"I do not know. I'm not sure what the protocol is. My research has indicated several possible outcomes, yet I am uncertain as to which is correct."

Kathryn leaned her elbows on the back of a chair and looked at Seven. "Oh? You've done research?" One eyebrow rose curiously. "Was this before, or after Glacia?"

Seven blushed and she said, "After you reprimanded me for studying Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris' relationship, I confined my studies to the holodeck and the computer." She did not mention the brief and unsuccessful courtship she'd had with Voyager's holographic doctor. Nor did she bring up her utter failure with Lieutenant Chapman.

"I see," Janeway said, clearly amused. "And just what would your studies lead you to choose to do next?"

"According to my research, we can either: kiss and say goodnight, copulate, or break up," Seven answered promptly, then, after a moment, she added, "Or we could have an argument, and then have make-up copulation."

Kathryn was supremely happy that she wasn't drinking anything because this time she couldn't clamp down on the laughter. A few minutes later she was wiping away the tears her mirth had produced and putting out a hand to stop a terribly worried looking Borg from leaping up and carting her off to Sickbay. "I'm all right, Seven, it's just that your choice of terms was... funny... to me. My apologies. I can understand how pure research into the subject of Human mating rituals could lead you to those conclusions."

Seven, who had thought she'd said something completely unforgivable, slumped down in her chair and felt like a damaged drone. "Instruct this drone on how to proceed," she said woodenly.

That got Janeway's attention. Knowing that she'd have to be gentle, she said, "I suppose we could watch a holovid."

Seven cocked her head to the side and said, "Is that like a drive-in movie? I recall reading about those from 20th century literature."

Janeway considered Seven's question before answering, "I suppose it would be more like watching a video tape. Unless you'd rather go to the holodeck and run one of the holonovels that contain a drive-in movie setting? I'm sure Mr. Paris has something programmed."

"No, I'd rather stay here. With you, alone, if that is acceptable?" Seven looked positively terrified at the idea of having a date in the holodeck.

Kathryn's eyes warmed and she stood and held out a hand to Seven. "It's fine, darling. In fact, why don't we just go and sit on the couch and see what happens next?" Seven was agreeable and so they walked over to the couch and sat down. Kathryn quickly found her way into Seven's arms and the two sat silently for quite a while before Seven began to stroke Kathryn's hair.

Janeway smiled, feeling somewhat akin to an overly pampered pet, but loving the attention all the same. Slowly, she tilted her head up and began to brush tiny kisses along Seven's chin.

"Kathryn, what are you doing?" Seven asked, somewhat breathless.

"Seeing what happens next, darling," Janeway chuckled in response as she lifted herself up to hover over the Borg.

Seven's mouth formed an "O" of response, then her lips were covered by Kathryn's in a tender kiss that wiped away all other thought. When they parted, both were shaking and Seven hesitantly brought her mesh-covered fingertips up to stroke Janeway's face. "I feel... so many confusing emotions for you, Kathryn Janeway," Seven whispered. "I am chaos within, and yet, I do not mind. I find this chaos to be... pleasant."

Kathryn smiled and kissed the tips of Seven's fingers, hiding her surprise at the near flesh-like feel of the metal that encased the Borg's hand. "That's part of falling in love, darling."

"Is it? Are you feeling this chaos, as well?" Seven asked, continuing to stroke her fingers along Kathryn's face, neck and down the slope of her shoulder.

Janeway's eyes were half-lidded with pleasure and she purred, "Oh yes, darling, and I welcome that chaos as much as you do." She let out a slight gasp of pleasure when Seven's fingers found the zipper to her uniform tunic. "You're a fast learner, Annika," she said as the Borg unzipped the jacket and slipped her hands inside to continue their tour of Janeway's body.

Seven's hands stopped, and she looked into Janeway's eyes. "You called me Annika," she said curiously.

"Why yes, I suppose I did," Janeway allowed, snuggling back down against Seven's warm body.

"Why?"

Janeway stared out of her windows, watching as stars streaked by, blurred by Voyager's warp field and sighed. "I think it's because when I'm with you like this..." she gestured to their entwined forms, "I want to think of you as an individual, not a number. Annika seems so much more... intimate... to me," she finished lamely, hoping that she had not somehow offended her lover.

"I have not been called by that name since I was a child and with my family," Seven said after some minutes of silence. "As a Borg, I was content to be one of many, a small piece of a collective. Now I am an individual, a single member of a family aboard Voyager. It is appropriate that I should take up that name again," she decided.

"Are you sure, Seven? You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I-- I would like for you, at least, to use that name," Seven replied hesitatingly. "We are intimate, there should be no barriers between us."

"All right," Janeway said, "I'll accept that decision, Annika." Then she yawned, which caused Seven to yawn as well. She looked at the chronometer and groaned. It was close to 03:30. "Damn. I need some sleep, if I'm going to be worth anything as a captain tomorrow."

Seven pulled Kathryn closer against her in a tight hug, then said, "And I need to regenerate, or my cortical implant will begin to fail."

"But I don't want to move," Janeway complained grumpily.

"I do not wish to relocate either, Kathryn, but physiology and duty require it."

The captain laughed as she sat up. "I never thought I'd hear you tout duty, Seven."

"Only when it is efficient to do so, as it is now," Seven replied while standing. "You would have been less inclined to disengage from our embrace had I not brought it up, which would have caused you to get less sleep, thereby making you less able to function as captain, thereby creating chaos and disorder among Voyager's crew tomorrow."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Kathryn said as she stood to walk Seven to the door.

Seven only smirked in reply, but the smirk was soon replaced by an affectionate smile as the captain kissed her goodnight.

"I would like us to share lunch tomorrow, if it's possible, Seven," Janeway said softly.

"That would be very acceptable, Captain," Seven said as she exited the captain's quarters.

***

The next day, in her staff meeting, Janeway could see that Chakotay's words were coming true. He was completely professional with her, but it was cold, lacking the warmth and banter of his previous self. He completely ignored Seven, except for when the Borg had delivered her department's report.

There was one odd thing that stood out to the captain, and that was the frown lines that appeared on her first officer’s face that seemed to deepen with each passing moment. She filed the knowledge away for later, when she could have more time to mull it over.

Janeway also made certain to pay only as much attention to Seven as she dared, giving each member of her command crew equal time to lay out their reports.

After she'd dismissed them, she continued to study the various padds they'd turned in, and as she got to Seven's, she wondered when the Borg had managed to have the time to write such a detailed report the evening before. She must have dictated it while making dinner, when you were -discussing- things with Chakotay. God, I've got to fix that. The door to the conference room opened and Janeway looked up to see her Security Chief standing at the end of the table, his quiet Vulcan aplomb surrounding him like a cloak.

"Yes? Is there something I can help you with, Tuvok?"

"It has come to my attention that you have engaged in a romantic liaison with a member of the crew, Captain. Are there any specific restrictions you'd like to place on that person regarding Away missions?"

Janeway frowned. She couldn't for the life of her understand why Tuvok would bring such a thing up. Not that it wasn't Starfleet practice to assign those with whom the captain had affairs with to less dangerous duty, it was that Tuvok would know to ask such a question in the first place.

Kathryn raised one eyebrow carefully. "Snooping around the ship for gossip again, old friend?" she asked.

Impassively, Tuvok replied. "It is my duty as Security Chief to remain abreast of all developments within the crew’s personal lives."

Janeway nodded sagely. "I see. B’Elanna must really envy you," she said with a sardonic grin, then sighed. "Yes, I have begun a relationship with a crew member. No, you do not need to change away mission protocols because of it. I don’t foresee a problem. Should one arise, I know you’ll be perfectly happy - pardon me, logical - and tell me."

"As you wish, Captain," the Vulcan replied, turning to leave.

"Tuvok - if I may have a moment of your time?" Janeway said in the tone of voice that Tuvok knew meant she wished to confide in him.

He sat down and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Yes, Captain?"

"You didn’t ask who I was with," the captain pointed out, reaching for her teapot and refilling her "lucky cup" with coffee.

One dark eyebrow rose gracefully. "I did not believe it was my place to ask, Captain."

Janeway smiled knowingly. "In other words, you already know. Very well, then let me ask you this: Commander Chakotay is not at all pleased by my choice, do you believe that will affect the safety of the ship?"

Tuvok considered the captain’s words carefully. He was indeed aware that she and Seven of Nine were involved in the beginning stages of a romantic relationship - he had been aware of this for some time. He was also aware that Voyager’s first officer was deeply attached to his captain - and that at one time, the two might have been lovers. Yet, the commander had an exemplary record and was well-known for his cool head when it came to emotional situations. The captain’s question was curious, indeed.

"Captain, Commander Chakotay is not a man given to allowing his emotions to rule his actions. In the six years we have served together, I have not been witness to any action of his that would let me believe he would endanger the ship or its crew. However, I know that with humans, when emotion is involved, especially one as uncontrollable as love, anything is possible. If you wish, I will maintain a surveillance of the commander for as long as you deem necessary," Tuvok finally said.

"I don’t know, Tuvok," Kathryn replied, standing up and pacing around the room. "The whole idea of spying on my first officer just doesn’t sit right with me. Yet, I cannot discount something that Seven said to me while we were on Glacia, either."

"What was that?" Tuvok asked, turning in his chair to watch the captain pace.

Kathryn turned and rested her chin on her thumb and forefinger. "To paraphrase; she said that he didn’t like her and that he might be tempted to put her in danger. Since Seven’s not normally given to paranoid delusions, I am a little bothered by it."

Tuvok inclined his head. "Then may I suggest that you allow me to ‘keep an eye’ on the commander?"

The captain closed her eyes and made a command decision. One that she hoped wasn’t overly tainted by her heart. "Yes. Please do that. But Tuvok, if all of this is just shadows and mist, please expunge any mention of this command from the official logs. I don’t want to have this on Chakotay’s record, if it can be avoided."

"Of course, Captain."

"Dismissed."

***

I hate this, B’Elanna Torres, Voyager’s chief engineer, thought to herself as she crawled along a Jeffries tube in an attempt to locate yet another blown power conduit. I hate that Voyager’s so far away from anything resembling a resupply ship, it’s not funny. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and kept crawling. I hate doing this grunt work when I should be working on ways to make Voyager’s engines more efficient. I hate that I’m probably going to have to rebuild the damn power coupling instead of replacing it. She stopped again to catch her breath and glanced back at the person who was traveling behind her, nary a blonde hair out of place. But most of all, I hate having to work with Seven of Nine!

It was Seven’s week to work in Engineering. Because the Borg was familiar with many forms of science, the various decks of the ship took turns sharing her with Astrometrics, and this week, it was Engineering’s turn to baby-sit.

If asked, B’Elanna would probably not be able to actually state why she didn’t like the Borg, she would just say she didn’t. It was a gut level reaction. At one point, she had even thought that maybe her reaction was actually attraction, since she had felt the same way about Tom Paris at first, too. But this was different. Her dislike of Seven fell more into the realm of territorialness. Which was ridiculous, because she didn’t give a fat damn that the Borg was smarter, faster and more efficient than she was, right?

B’Elanna heard Seven clear her throat, and before the Borg could speak, started crawling along the tube again until they reached the juncture that the computer had indicated was failing.

Together, they hauled open the panel and looked inside. Sure enough, both the main and backup conduits were blown. Carefully, B’Elanna removed the two parts, handing one to Seven to inspect, while she looked over the other. Three of the conduit’s cells were completely burned out, the rest appeared to be functional, if in need of recalibrating.

Torres removed the damaged bits and laid them aside to be recycled. She opened her tool kit and looked to see if she had any extra energy cells. She had two. Damnit!

"I may be able to salvage those," Seven said softly, pointing at the blackened bits of technology on the floor beside the half-Klingon engineer.

B’Elanna’s nostrils flared. "Oh really? Just what miracle will you work today, Seven?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Calmly, Seven reached for the cells and examined them. One she opened with a quick pop, removing half of the circuit board. Another she gutted completely, sighing almost sadly at the broken bits of crystal and wire that she poured into a small tube. From the third, she used the other half of the circuit board, quickly connecting it to the first, then inserting the jury-rigged piece into the shell.

"Here, I believe this shall function for another thirty days until it needs replacing," she said, handing the cell back to B’Elanna, who took it numbly.

Suddenly, the absurdity of it all hit the half-Klingon, causing her to laugh uproariously. "Seven, you’re a marvel, you know that?"

Confused, Seven said, "I am?"

"Yes. You are. I’ve just decided that I need to stuff my Klingon pride into a very small place and think like a human for once. I haven’t exactly been the most charitable toward you, Seven, and for that I apologize." A strange sensation percolated through B’Elanna as a weight she didn’t realize that she had been carrying suddenly lifted from her shoulders. Seven wasn’t a threat to her authority, she was an asset to be cherished!

Seven pondered the engineer’s words, then gravely nodded. "Thank you. Perhaps I too have been less than cooperative in regard to you, B’Elanna Torres."

B’Elanna grinned, an open smile of true amusement. "All right then, let’s make this official…friends?" She stuck out her hand.

Seven studied the half-Klingon’s gesture for a moment, then as realization hit, she gripped B’Elanna’s hand in her own and shook it slowly. "Friends," she said.

Together, they finished work on the conduits.

***

"Good evening, Commander, what can I get you?" Neelix, the ship’s Talaxian cook said pleasantly when Chakotay came into the mess hall.

"Something mild and filling if you would, Neelix. I’m a little tired today," Chakotay said with a weak grin as he found himself a table and sat down. He looked around the room, nodding in greeting to a couple of former Maquis seated at another table. Across the room from where he sat was Tom Paris along with B’Elanna Torres and, his brow furrowed in pain as pain hammered in his skull, Seven of Nine. The three were quietly talking, but suddenly that seemed unimportant as the pain in his head caused his stomach to churn.

Slowly, he got up and made his way to the door, determined not to show any sign of pain. As soon as he was out of the mess hall and in the corridor, the pain receded, vanishing away to nothing. He sighed in relief, then headed for the gym, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone on the way there.

He wasn’t so lucky. An ensign from engineering was hurrying along, carrying a stack of padds and didn’t see the commander. The two men collided, sending padds flying.

"Oh, pardon me, I am so terribly sorry," the younger officer babbled, reaching out to help Chakotay stand.

"Don’t touch me!" Chakotay barked, not even focusing on the young man’s face.

Ensign Tarin Gray jumped at the commander’s tone. "Y-yes sir," he babbled, backing away in fear as Chakotay hauled himself up.

The commander’s normally warm brown eyes had turned into hardened pools of agate. "You should watch where you’re going, Ensign," the commander said in a low, hard tone.

"Yes sir, of course sir!" the ensign barked loudly, wondering if he should salute.

Chakotay gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to take the man by his throat and strangle him where he stood. "That will be all, Ensign," he said, turning and walking away.

Ensign Gray breathed a sigh of relief. He’d gotten off easily, if scuttlebutt was to be believed. He’d heard that Commander Chakotay had turned into a real hardass, but he hadn’t believed it until today. He shook his head sadly. Even officers crack under the pressure, he supposed. Then he shrugged and picked up his padds. It wasn’t his problem. Captain Janeway would fix it, and that was all that mattered.

***

Has it really been two months? Janeway asked herself as she studied her profile in the full length mirror of her ensuite. The captain adjusted the front of her black tunic and shook her hips to settle the fabric of her maroon silk pants. She glanced at a wall chronometer and read the date. I guess it has. Time really does fly when you’re having fun.

Two months of relative quiet had passed aboard Voyager. Time that Kathryn Janeway and Annika Hansen had used to learn that they enjoyed doing more together than snuggling and kissing. Swimming for one, became a well-loved off duty past time. Diving was next, then hiking, velocity, tennis, darts and finally, dancing. The two women had discovered a bone deep mutual love of dancing.

After, of course, Janeway taught Seven the difference between letting her lead and leading. This discussion naturally led to them talking about the abortive attempt to date Lieutenant Chapman. That brought on some good laughs on both their parts.

Another wonderful development was Seven’s budding friendship with B’Elanna. The engineer had given up her animosity toward the Borg and had taken her under her wing, introducing her to the lower decks crewmen at various Sandrine’s parties.

In fact, the only damper on the whole affair had been Commander Chakotay’s continued coolness toward his captain. Their interaction had devolved to the point that they rarely spoke outside of their duty shifts and even then, his words were crisp and formal. The bridge crew was starting to notice that something was amiss between their captain and their first officer, but they could not figure out what it was.

Tom Paris, of course, had a betting pool out on it, but even being involved with the ship’s acknowledged gossip queen gave him no real edge. Harry Kim suspected it was girl trouble, but since the only woman the commander had ever shown an inkling of attraction to, besides the captain, was B’Elanna Torres, and she was happily carrying on with his best friend Tom. Only Tuvok knew the real reason behind Chakotay’s reticence.

The Vulcan had spent the last two months casually watching the commander and had come to a disturbing conclusion - Chakotay was on the verge of a breakdown. Yet, as Tuvok examined his evidence, gathered from discreet forays into the commander’s private logs, he did not believe the troubles came from the captain’s relationship with Seven. In fact, after a rush of self discussion on the subject, Chakotay seemed indifferent to the captain’s new love. Even, at one point, relieved sounding.

This puzzled the Vulcan. If the commander’s problem was not based on his affections for the captain, then was he still under orders to maintain his surveillance? It was a dance of logic that Tuvok attacked with fervor. He did have one tiny clue as to the reason for Chakotay’s unhappiness - there was a mention, at least once a day, of severe headaches.

His next step, he pondered while performing his bridge duties for the beta shift, would be to discreetly talk to the doctor and discover, if he could, if the commander had reported the phenomena to medical personnel.

***

Four ships came at his tiny shuttle, firing volley after volley of phaser fire. Sweat poured off his brow as he managed to dodge most of the strikes, sending his ship into a tight spin.

"Port nacelle damaged, engine power dropping to 74%," the computer stated emotionlessly as he leaned over and tapped the sequence that would fire his last photon torpedo.

"To hell with the damn nacelle," he yelled angrily, wiping his eyes. A headache was starting to form, and he could tell it was going to be a good one. He grinned wolfishly at his attackers.

"Come on, come and get me you slime-sucking plasma eaters," he growled tapping commands into the panel under his hands.

His torpedo struck its target, starting a chain reaction that ended when the ship blew itself to pieces. A grin of satisfaction spread over Commander Chakotay’s face.

"Okay, who wants to die next?" he asked, bringing his ship about to face the three remaining vessels.

The three ships regrouped and fired at him again. Once again, he executed a spin and dive, only this time he wasn’t fast enough and the combined power of the three alien vessels was enough to punch through his shuttle’s shields and blow him to pieces.

"Game over. Winner: Computer," said the ship’s computer as Chakotay lay on the floor of the holodeck, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

"Computer, begin game again. This time, five ships, safety protocol at 50% of normal," he said, getting up and wiping his face. Blood trickled from several small cuts and bruises, but he didn’t care, so long as it made him forget about the pain in his skull, that’s all that mattered.

***

Seven of Nine stepped out of her alcove and checked the chronometer on her workstation. 19:37 hours. Perfect, she still had enough time to get ready for her date with the captain.

After two months of secrecy, they were finally going to try one night out together. B’Elanna had informed her of a special "surprise birthday party" for one of the crewmen to be held at Sandrine’s that evening, and Seven had invited the captain as her date.

The one and only problem that Seven currently had was what to wear. The former drone had absolutely no idea what would look good on her and she really didn’t want to ask the doctor. She sighed and contemplated asking Naomi, figuring the child might have some inkling of what would look good, when it suddenly struck her. She could ask B’Elanna! They were friends now and she knew the half-Klingon engineer was very well known for her spectacular taste when it came to dressing up.

"Seven to Lieutenant Torres," she said, tapping her combadge.

"Go ahead, Seven," Torres responded.

"Are you busy, B’Elanna?" Seven asked, using the engineer’s first name to let her know that she wished to have a personal discussion.

A few seconds passed, then, "Not really. Tom and I were just watching television, why?"

"I require your assistance with a private matter, if you have the time," Seven said, not wanting to broadcast her life to the whole crew at once.

"All right. I’ll meet you in cargo bay two in five minutes. Torres out." The combadge chirped off.

Seven took the time to take a quick sonic shower in the ensuite that had been installed in her half of the cargo bay. She was wrapped in a cozy robe when B’Elanna entered the room.

Torres surveyed the Borg’s state of undress with a casual eye. "Now I know why Tom can’t keep his eyes off of you," she commented, noting the elegant length of leg that was shown off by the short robe.

"He should be looking at you," Seven said, returning the stare with a smile. "Since I am involved elsewhere."

Well, wasn’t that the juiciest bit of gossip to ever drop into B’Elanna’s lap. She just knew there was a reason she’d decided to be friends with the Borg.

"Oh really?" B’Elanna asked with a raised eyebrow. "Please, explain."

Seven gestured to the display screen on her workstation. "Actually, that is why I asked you to come down here. I need assistance in choosing an outfit to wear for the party tonight. I wish to look good for my date."

B’Elanna laughed. "Oh, is that all? Don’t you know that most of the crew thinks you’d look good in a two hundred year old Starfleet uniform - one found in a malfunctioning recycle unit at that!"

Seven gave B’Elanna a long look then said, "Kathryn is not ‘most of the crew’."

"Kathryn?" B’Elanna choked, running over the list of possible Kathryns on the crew manifest. "Uh, Catherine O’Rourke in Xenobiology?" The engineer thought hard to recall the diminutive Irishwoman who was famous for her disdain of the Borg.

"Hardly. Ensign O’Rourke would rather date Harry Kim. I was speaking of Kathryn Janeway," Seven said bluntly as she continued to peruse the ship’s dress catalog.

B’Elanna blinked, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and let out a long, low whistle. "Well, Seven, I’ll say this for you - you don’t do things by halves!"

Inside, B’Elanna was banging her head against a solid duranium bulkhead. The juiciest bit of gossip to come down the pipe ever and she’d only just heard about it! Heads would roll…the half-Klingon vowed. The engineer took a deep breath and moved over to view what Seven had on her screen.

"Okay Seven, I think the captain would probably appreciate something simple, yet elegant, don’t you?"

***

Commander Chakotay paced his quarters, ready to pull his hair out by the roots. He had returned to them when his time in the holodeck was over. The headaches were becoming more frequent, filling his skull with thousands of tiny needles that hammered away at his nerve endings incessantly. He recognized that the pain was making him irritable and uncharitable in the best of moods - outright nasty, perhaps dangerously so, in the worst. Yet, he could do nothing about it. Whenever he would head for sickbay, the headaches would mysteriously vanish. Since he was a busy man, he would immediately take the opportunity to get some of the backlog of work that had been piling up done.

Today, the headache had started as soon as he’d awakened, a mild prickle that lived just under his left eye, migrating over his entire head as the day wore on. After his shift, he’d rushed off to the holodeck to try and forget about the pain, but that only made it worse. Now, he was in his quarters, pacing the darkened rooms while his brain felt like it was about to explode.

Research led him to wonder if he had some kind of tumor - or maybe an alien presence was symbiotically living in his brain. Whatever it was, Chakotay knew something needed to be done about it soon, or he would go insane.

Another burst of pain raged down his neck and the first officer reached up to grasp his head, scratching and pulling at the skin, tearing it in several places, but not noticing the blood that trickled down his back.

***

Seven of Nine stood outside of Kathryn Janeway’s quarters, nervously shifting back and forth on her feet, trying to bring up the courage to press the door chime. Under B’Elanna’s skilled tutelage, Seven had dressed in a strapless lavender satin dress that fell in luxurious waves all the way to the floor. The half-Klingon had then asked Crewman Chell, a Bolian who filled his off duty hours as a barber and stylist among the lower decks crew, to come up and assist her with Seven’s hair.

Chell had taken one look at the Borg’s normal coiffure and clicked his tongue sadly. "Oh no," he said in his high, reedy voice, "this just won’t do. You need to let it down, my dear. That dress just begs for it."

Ten minutes later, he had restyled her hair into something deceptively simple, yet elegant enough to offset the dress nicely. Seven was unused to the sensation of her own hair brushing her shoulders, but she supposed it must look nice on her - after all, she had worn it thus at least twice before, if in completely different circumstances.

Drawing herself up to her full height and schooling her face to a cool mask, Seven depressed the announce chime.

***

"Sev-" Janeway’s greeting was lost as she beheld the vision of beauty that Seven had become. "Oh my," fell out instead, then, "Oh Annika," as Seven timidly extended a single red rose to the captain.

"Research indicates that the presentation of this symbolic nature is appropriate in a ‘date’ situation," Seven said stiffly.

Clamping down on a chuckle, Janeway gravely accepted the flower and said, "Your research is correct, Seven, it’s lovely. Please, come in while I put it into some water."

"That is acceptable," the Borg replied, stepping inside the captain’s quarters and receiving a gentle kiss of welcome.

Kathryn quickly located a vase - quite probably something she’d picked up at one of the many worlds that dotted the Delta quadrant - and filled it with water from her bathroom. Then she carefully inserted the rose into the vase and set it on her nightstand.

"All right, Annika, I’m ready to go," she said, exiting the bedroom and extending her arm to the Borg.

Seven smiled and took it, then the two of them exited the captain’s rooms together.

***

The party was just starting when Seven and the Captain arrived. The entrance was relatively unnoticed by the few crewmen who were already inside the smoky bar, though B’Elanna took the moment to nudge Tom in the side.

"Told you," she whispered, as the blonde helmsman gaped in astonishment.

"Wow," he said with a light laugh. "Maybe this is what’s chewing Chakotay’s shorts. I mean, we all knew that he and the captain-"

"What, Ensign?" said a voice that could only belong to Captain Janeway.

Tom swallowed, hard. "Uh, nothing, ma’am. Idle speculation, that’s all." He smiled winningly. "It won’t happen again."

Janeway favored her helmsman with one of her sterner looks, but tinged it with a half smile. "See that it doesn’t. Now, you were saying something about my first officer’s attire?" she asked with a concerned look in her eye.

Tom pursed his lips, thinking about how forthright he could be with his captain, now that she was ‘off duty’. "Well, ma’am, why don’t you have a seat?" He got up and pulled out chairs for her and Seven, much to B’Elanna’s surprise. Her rakish boyfriend never acted this gallant with her - perhaps double dates with Seven and Janeway should become a normal pastime.

The two women sat down, ordered drinks from the holographic waiter that glided up to them, then turned to look at Tom.

"All right, I’m listening," Janeway said seriously. She had not been unaware of her commander’s recent behavior and she was more than a little afraid that it had to do with her relationship with the beautiful Borg sitting next to her.

Tom shrugged. "Well, it’s like this: the lower decksmen are beginning to notice that Chakotay’s a little…off. Departmental reports aren’t signed off as quickly, reassignments take longer, special requests are often ignored - that sort of thing. I’ve heard rumors that he’s slacking, basically. Not pulling his weight. Oh, and there’s been talk that Chakotay’s not the man you want to piss off. Apparently, he’s actually struck several crewmen in anger."

"I see," Janeway said slowly. "Has there been any discussion as to the cause of this behavior?"

Tom shrugged and winced a little. "Well, ma’am, there are some who believe it’s because he’s pining for you."

Janeway’s eyes echoed the wince as she flicked a quick look at Seven, who was fidgeting with her glass of champagne. "And others?"

"I’ve heard that he’s planning a mutiny," B’Elanna said softly, throwing in her own gleanings of the gossip mill.

The captain’s face hardened into a mask of pure disdain. "I hope you’ve done your best to dispel that ridiculous notion, Lieutenant."

B’Elanna quickly nodded. "Of course. I mean, if Chakotay were planning a mutiny, I’m sure he’d tell me first." She said it with such surety that Janeway chuckled.

"Yes, I’m sure he would. All right, any other ideas? While I can take into account the fact that my first officer may not be pleased with my choice of companions, I would like to cover all bases." The captain held each of her officer’s gaze for a long moment before sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs.

"Perhaps I can shed some light on the subject?" Commander Tuvok offered, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to the captain.

All four turned their heads to look at the Vulcan security chief. Janeway inclined her head.

"Please, feel free to add whatever speculation," she stressed the word lightly, "you might have."

Tuvok nodded imperceptibly. He understood that the captain did not want him to mention her order to have Chakotay watched to the others. "As chief of security, I find that I often spend time studying the people that live aboard Voyager. It has not gone unnoticed that Commander Chakotay’s behavior has been distinctly different in the past few months. As a result, I checked his work logs and I have discovered that he has either worked short shifts or has traded days off with other crewmembers, myself included. Spaced apart as they have been, they have not been enough to alert anyone, but taken as a whole, I believe they point to a pattern. It is possible that the commander is ill and has wished to keep his illness a secret."

"Even from the captain?" Tom blurted before Janeway could speak. At her sharp glance, he smiled apologetically, "Sorry, ma’am."

"It’s all right, Tom. I believe concern for our first officer has us all a little jumpy. Do you have any concrete evidence of this, Tuvok?" she asked.

"The doctor has informed me that the commander has not required his services for more than three months," Tuvok stated calmly, "and has repeatedly refused requests to undergo his annual physical."

While the captain had been guilty of not complying with the doctor’s requests, she knew that her first officer was usually among the first to allow the EMH to perform his duty. The only time she had ever seen him avoid the doctor was when he was sick and trying not to admit it.

"Thank you, Commander," Janeway said, steepling her fingers under her chin to consider what she’d been told. After a few moments, she turned to Seven and put a gentle hand on her knee. "Seven, darling, would you forgive me if I left you with our friends while I went to see the commander? I am concerned, now more than ever."

Seven looked up sharply, but smiled at the love in Kathryn’s eyes. "Of course, Kathryn. Perhaps we could enjoy a late dinner?"

Janeway nodded. "I’ll call you," she said, bending over and trying not to be too self conscious as she and Seven exchanged a brief, but loving kiss.

After she’d left, Tom rubbed his face with one hand, then grinned boyishly and said, "Nice catch, Seven."

B’Elanna kicked him in the shin and exclaimed, "Tom! You absolute rogue!" then laughed.

Tuvok raised one sculpted eyebrow while Seven frowned, then, perhaps realizing that it was just a joke, she smiled slightly. "Mr. Paris, your humor is - an acquired taste," she said evenly, while favoring him with one of her icy blue stares.

***

Janeway depressed the announce button on the panel outside of Chakotay’s door and waited. She heard the chime echo through his quarters, but there was no reaction. After waiting a few minutes, she tapped a code on the panel and said, "Computer, please locate Commander Chakotay."

"Commander Chakotay is within his quarters," came the computer voice’s dry response.

"All right, Chakotay, let’s see if you’re just sleeping," Janeway muttered, and keyed the panel to play the chime again, only this time she increased the length and volume of the chirp. There was still no response. She tried once more, and when there was again, no response, she frowned in concern.

"Computer, open the commander’s door, authorization, Janeway, alpha, one, zero, six, theta," the captain ordered.

The doors whooshed open to reveal that the commander’s quarters were plunged into cavern-like darkness.

"Computer, lights, half," she ordered, carefully making her way inside. The lights came up, revealing a horrendous mess. Objects were scattered everywhere, some broken, some not. Clothes draped over every surface, some so old they were beginning to reek. The whole area carried the scent that reminded Janeway heavily of decay.

She continued to pick her way through the room, calling out for her first officer softly. The door to his bedroom was also closed, but it opened readily enough when she ordered the computer to release the seal. The commander was on his bed, dressed only in his underclothes and he wore some kind of mask over his eyes.

Quietly, Janeway approached him, not wanting to startle him too much.

"Chakotay?" she called out, reaching out to shake him. His skin was scorching hot to the touch and he did not respond to her calls. She ripped the mask off of his face and ordered the lights to come up full, revealing deep bruises and scratches all over his face, head and neck.

"Dear God," she whispered, then tapped her combadge. "Computer, emergency site-to-site transport: two to beam directly to Sickbay. Doctor, head’s up, I’m coming in with Commander Chakotay!"

The thin whine of the transporter came none too soon for her.

***

"The commander is suffering from a hemorrhaging of the cortical area of his brain. I believe it was caused by the implant placed there by the Borg over three years ago," the doctor told Janeway as he continued examine and monitor his patient. Tom Paris, who had been called in from the party to perform his duties as nurse, stood to the doctor’s right, handing him whatever tool he requested.

"But I thought he was fine?" Janeway said, standing well out of the doctor’s way as he worked.

"I thought he was as well, but now I believe that with his exposure, on a constant basis, to Borg technology, the implant which was dormant, reactivated. Unfortunately, because of its special construction, it was unable to function properly and began to self-destruct. This destruction has caused massive damage to the tissues of Chakotay’s brain," the doctor explained.

"Can you do anything for him?" Janeway asked, crossing her arms and pacing around the room.

"I am attempting to do so right now, Captain. Please, feel free to sit down in my office and wait, because I assure you, this will take some time," the doctor said acerbically.

Janeway frowned, but got the hint and removed herself to the doctor’s office to wait.

***

"Can you believe he was going through that alone?" a voice said softly.

Soft hands smoothed his hair back. "No, I can’t. I wish he’d come to me about it, but it’s too late now. Time, the doctor says, it’ll take time."

"As much as the commander and I disagree, I would not wish to see him removed from our Collective. I hope he recovers."

"I agree. Come on, everyone, let’s let the commander sleep now," a voice which he recognized said. Then, near his ear, a whispered, "You get better now, you hear me, commander? Don’t you even think about leaving me without my first officer."

He tried to smile, but his face didn’t seem to want to respond. Instead, he weakly raised his arm and grasped her hand. "Won’t…let…you…down," he wheezed, then passed out.

***

Kathryn Janeway curled up on her couch and closed her eyes, sending off a prayer to whatever gods watched over her and her crew that Chakotay would be all right.

"Would you like a drink, Kathryn?" Seven asked gently, coming around behind the couch and dropping a kiss on the captain’s soft auburn hair.

Janeway looked up and smiled. "Please, thank you." She took Seven’s hand briefly and kissed the palm. "Thanks for coming back here with me. I’m not sure I would have wanted to wait alone."

Seven returned the smile. "It is the nature of those within a romantic relationship to ‘support’ each other, is it not?"

"Yes, of course," Janeway agreed.

"Then I am," Seven said carefully, "here for you, Kathryn."

Janeway’s eyes misted over. "Thank you, darling."

Seven nodded, then went to the replicator and got them drinks. Tea for herself, coffee for Kathryn. With the drinks in hand, she returned to the couch and curled up on the opposite end, handing the captain her cup.

Janeway took a long drink, then rested her head on the arm of the couch and sighed. "Seven…what am I going to do?"

"Pardon, Captain?" Seven asked, knowing somehow that this conversation called for formality.

"About Chakotay. If he doesn’t make it - or, if he’s somehow not able to carry out his duties - I don’t really have an officer capable of replacing him. Oh, sure, Tuvok has served as my First Officer before, but this is different…Chakotay was my link to the Maquis members of this crew," Janeway explained.

Seven sipped her drink, considering the captain’s words. They had never before discussed ship’s business like this, and a part of the Borg delighted at this new facet to their relationship. That the captain would trust Seven enough to talk openly meant a great deal; she must not err and misplace the captain’s belief in her.

"I do not know about many in this crew beyond the bridge crew, and aside from a very few there, that is only professionally. However, it seems to me that this crew isn’t about Starfleet and Maquis, it is about a Collective that functions as a whole. Are you so certain you would need someone to be the ‘link’ to the Maquis anymore?" Seven hoped that her studies into the culture and sociology of a starship would help now.

"I don’t really know," Janeway confessed. "I always assumed that Chakotay would be here. He’s my rock."

Seven puzzled out the reference, then nodded. She shifted her position, placing her teacup on the little table in front of the couch, then settled back again. "Are you so certain that the doctor’s treatment will fail?"

"What? No, of course not, but, as Captain, I have to be prepared for the worst," Janeway said.

"It is my experience that Humans would rather ‘look on the bright side’ of the situation first. Perhaps it would be prudent for you to request an update on his condition?" Seven suggested.

Janeway sighed and rubbed her forehead. "You might be right. Computer, please give me an update on Commander Chakotay’s condition."

"Commander Chakotay is resting comfortably in sickbay."

"As I understand it, that is a good assessment," Seven said, reaching down and grabbing the captain’s feet and pulling them into her lap, then slowly beginning to massage them.

"Oh God, Seven, that’s wonderful. Yes, that is generally a good report - still - I’d like a second opinion. Captain to the doctor."

"Yes, Captain?" the doctor’s bright voice replied.

"Can you give me an update on Chakotay?" she asked while Seven continued her gentle massage.

"Actually, I was just about to contact you, Captain. I believe that the commander will make a full recovery, so long as he remains off duty for at least six months."

"Six months!" Janeway blurted in surprise. "Who am I going to get to act as First Officer for six months?"

"I’m sure Commander Tuvok will do a fine job, Captain. Now I really must go. It’s time for my patient’s midnight checkup." The doctor signed off.

"Tuvok is not going to be pleased," Seven said with a slight grin.

Janeway shook her head. "No, he isn’t. I suppose I shall have to make it up to him by assigning him someone to work with him as well." She turned and looked Seven over. "Darling, have you ever given any thought to a command position?"

Seven’s eyes widened. "Captain, I believe that giving me that assignment would be impractical and inefficient."

"Hmm, why is that?" Kathryn said, standing and stretching.

Seven stood as well, cocking her head to the side and clasping her hands behind her back. "I believe it has something to do with the ‘chain of command’ and the fact that others would perceive my elevation as ‘favoritism’ on your part. That would not be good for ship’s morale."

"Aren’t you the good little cadet," Janeway joked, stepping up to Seven and sliding her arms around the Borg’s waist.

Seven rested her arms on Janeway’s shoulders, looking down into the captain’s smoky gray eyes. "Since I have become involved with you, I find that I am curious about Starfleet and its ideals. I have been using some of my off time to study its history as well as rules and regulations."

"Really?" Janeway said softly, releasing Seven’s waist and running her hands up the Borg’s chest to clasp them around the taller woman’s neck. "Seven," she whispered huskily.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I’m tired of talking about the ship now. Will you kiss me?"

"Of course, Kathryn," Seven replied, smiling. The Borg tipped her head down and slowly started kissing Kathryn’s face. First her forehead, then her eyes, nose, cheeks, chin and finally, her lips.

Janeway moaned into the kiss, loving the way her Borg took her time with the embrace, loving the fact that Seven’s hands were never still, touching and caressing ever inch of her they could reach. They broke apart with a shuddering sigh. "Oh Annika, I just love what you do to me," Kathryn whispered.

One blonde eyebrow curved up slowly. "That is good, because I love doing it to you," Seven replied, then, in a low, sexy whisper, added, "I would like to make love to you, Kathryn Janeway."

Kathryn leaned her head back and laughed, a full, rich, throaty sound of pure joy. "Please do, Annika. I’ve been waiting too long to hear you say that."

Seven laughed with her. "Perhaps I should have asked you that on Glacia then."

"Dear God, I don’t know if I would have survived that," Kathryn replied, slowly unfastening the Borg’s dress and laying small kisses over every inch of revealed skin.

"Then perhaps now is the best time to have asked," Seven replied breathlessly, letting out several tiny moans when the captain’s velvet lips found her nipples and began to kiss and suck them.

"Hmm, perhaps. Perhaps we should try this in the bedroom, as well," Janeway leered, looking up from her loving attentions.

"That is acceptable," Seven replied, lifting up the captain and carrying her into the bedroom.

"Darling, you are amazing, you know that?" Kathryn said softly as Seven laid her down on the bed, then slowly undressed her.

Seven smiled shyly. "I am pleased that you believe so, Kathryn," she said, removing the rest of her clothing, then sliding in next to her lover.

"Mm, I do," Kathryn said, rolling on top of the Borg and delighting in the feel of their bodies pressed so intimately together.

Slowly, she rained kisses over Seven’s body, taking her time to express her very real love for this woman who had taken her life by storm. In time, Seven returned those kisses, and more, showing Kathryn just how much she had learned about being human. As their hands and mouths communicated in words that went beyond sound, their hearts found a secure place to call home.

***

"So this is what I have decided," Captain Kathryn Janeway said sternly as she faced her command crew. They all looked at her, listening intently. "Starting today, Commander Tuvok is elevated to the position of First Officer pro tem. He will serve in this capacity until such time as Commander Chakotay is able to return to duty. To assist Mr. Tuvok in his duties, I have decided that each of you shall take a turn working with him as his assistant. You will carry the title of Commander’s Liaison and I expect each of you to carry out your duties with all the efficiency you can muster. Seven of Nine - you have the dubious honor of being the first of Mr. Tuvok’s liaisons, please report to him after our briefing."

"Yes, Captain," Seven said with a slight nod.

The rest of the crew heaved sighs of relief. Extra duty was something no one looked forward to.

"Mr. Kim, I’d like you and Mr. Paris to organize a group of crewmen to go into Commander Chakotay’s quarters and clean it up. Lieutenant Torres, it will be your duty to see that the air recyclers and computer panels inside the commander’s rooms are repaired to good working order."

"Aye ma’am," the three officers said, nodding.

"Mr. Neelix, I would like for you to begin planning a small party for the commander - he will be released from sickbay in two days time and I’d like to celebrate his recovery."

"Oh yes, Captain, that’s a wonderful idea," the Talaxian said, beaming at the captain’s order.

"If that is all, then you are dismissed," Janeway said, standing up and watching her crew leave to begin their duties. Only Seven remained. "Yes, Seven?" Janeway said, not looking at her astrometrics officer.

"I wanted to wish you a good day, Kathryn," Seven said softly. "You left before I was finished preparing this morning."

Kathryn stood up and walked over to the Borg. "I know, and I am sorry, darling, but my day does start quite a bit earlier than the rest of the crew. How about I make it up to you tonight, after our shifts are over?" she asked, leaning against the table.

"I find that idea - efficient," Seven said with a smirk, then leaned over and nuzzled Janeway’s face gently. "Thank you, for last night, Kathryn."

Janeway’s heart began to race. God, the things this woman could do to her! "I should thank you, as well, Annika," she replied huskily. "But we’re on duty, darling."

Seven instantly stood up straight, tilting her head to the side and clasping her hands behind her back. "My apologies, Captain. It will not happen again."

Janeway straightened and tugged on her uniform jacket. She smiled and walked by the Borg, taking a moment to gaze appreciatively at her lover before replying, "See that it doesn’t." A tiny smirk emerged on the captain’s lips, "Unless of course, I order it."

Seven’s eyes brightened and the Borg’s lips twitched. "Of course, Captain," she said, then walked out.

"Oh, yes, loving you will be interesting indeed, Seven," Janeway whispered to herself, then exited to the bridge.

***

The party was lovely. Quiet and low key, yet just what the recovering commander needed to remind him just how much he was loved by the crew. Everyone who was there took only a moment of Chakotay’s time to wish him well while the Delaney twins traded off on running small errands for him. The doctor had confined him to a hover chair, but it didn’t bother the proud man too much, as everyone seemed to ignore it in favor of trading comments and jests with him.

Finally, he was able to secure some time to talk to his captain.

"Kathryn," he said, coming up to her and Seven enjoying a quiet discussion with B’Elanna and Tom.

"Hello, Chakotay," Janeway replied warmly.

"May I have a word with you?" he asked, smiling a little.

Kathryn returned the smile and excused herself from the little group, then followed the commander to a quiet corner of the mess hall.

"What can I do for you, Commander?" she asked.

He coughed, then turned a rather interesting shade of red.

"Well, actually, I wanted to apologize, for my, ah, behavior regarding you and Seven…" he said haltingly.

Janeway sighed and sat down next to him.

"Chakotay, you and I have been working together for a lot of years," she began, putting her hand on his knee. "In all that time, I have never once expected you to always agree with my choices. I am not, nor was I ever, angry with you for your opinion regarding Seven and I."

"That’s the problem, Captain. I really am not that upset about it. I mean, at first I had my reservations, but after I thought about it, I realized that your life is your own and that you had to choose your own path to walk. It was just, every time I thought about telling you that, or even thought of getting near Seven to apologize, the headaches…well, they would overwhelm me."

Janeway nodded. "Yes, the doctor explained to me that your mood shifts were likely the result of the implant."

"Can you forgive me, Captain?" he asked in a small voice.

She gave his knee a light squeeze. "There’s nothing to forgive, my friend. Now, here are your orders: get well! I need my First Officer back!"

"Yes, ma’am!" he said, smiling.

***

Much later, after the party had died down and Chakotay had returned to his recently restored quarters, Kathryn and Annika were lying on the captain’s bed, twined happily around each other, catching their breath as their hearts slowed down. Janeway was tucked up under Seven’s chin, the Borg having pulled the captain into her arms to hold tightly.

"I can feel my life changing with ever passing moment, do you know that, Kathryn?" Seven finally said.

"I feel it too, darling," Kathryn replied gravely. "Do you regret it?" she asked, lifting herself up to stare down at the beautifully mussed woman below her.

Seven shook her head and smiled. "I regret nothing, my Kathryn. I have learned so much because of you and I look forward to learning more." She shifted and ran her hands lightly up the captain’s back, causing Janeway to purr happily.

"Good," Kathryn murmured, dipping her head down to kiss Seven passionately. "Because I want to spend a lot of time learning with you."

"Is that a," Seven paused to kiss the captain several times, "proposal, Kathryn?"

Janeway chuckled. "We’ll see, darling. We’ll see."

fin

07/05/00