Janeway felt her stomach clench as Seven smiled, a slow, languid, completely knowing smile that was almost lewd. The brilliant blue eyes raked over her with possessive intent, almost as if they were undressing her, though Seven herself never actually moved a muscle. Just remained standing there at perfect parade attention. Janeway wondered if it were possible to orgasm just from someone looking at her. If not, then it was certainly enough to send a rush of moisture to dampen the juncture between her legs and her nipples to stiffen with almost painful firmness. It was suddenly hard to breathe, to take in enough air and her heart sped up, sending the blood rushing through her veins.

Just a look, she thought dazedly. That was all it required.

“I’m not sure how I feel about Ro turning you on,” she said, wryly.

Seven tilted her head. “It should only be a concern should I wish her to be the one to receive my appreciation. I do not. I want you to accept my accolades on her behalf.”

“Fair enough,” Janeway allowed. “For my chief of security and anyone else who might accelerate you to warp, I happily accept your tribute.”

Seven’s eyebrow suddenly rose, as if struck by a thought. Janeway, from long experience, doubted she would appreciate what was coming next, but she understood it to be part and parcel of loving this woman.

“Am I ever the recipient of another’s effect on you?”

How to handle that one, Janeway wondered. Something safe, she decided. Seven appreciated athletic prowess. Something that was undoubtedly in play for her now.

“After watching a truly competitive Velocity match, I’m always ready to spend time with you,” she said. To her relief, Seven appeared to accept and understand that without requiring any further elaboration. “Come here,” she added, her voice dropping to a husky tremor.

Seven moved around the coffee table until she was standing over Janeway, looking down on her. Janeway smiled and with a lazy motion of command authority, reached out and unfastened Seven’s uniform trousers. Sliding them down her legs, she helped Seven slip out of her left boot and then the pant leg, leaving the rest of the garment tangled around her other ankle.

Casually, Janeway ran her hands over the long, golden length of her thighs, up to where a thin patch of pale yellow hair covered her mound. Easing one hand between them, Janeway ran her fingers lightly along Seven’s crevice, bathing in the moisture.

“God, you are wet,” she said throatily. “That must have been some takedown.”

“It was perfection,” Seven said seriously, and Janeway knew how much Seven appreciated that.

Right hand resting lightly on Janeway’s head, fingers laced through the auburn hair, Seven kept the other clenched at her side, which could prove to be dangerous. The edge of the mesh could cut into the flesh beneath as Seven lost control, which Janeway had every intention of her doing. Glancing around, Janeway spotted a small sculpture within reach on the end table, a curved, silver, smoothly formed hunk of metal that would fit neatly in Seven’s hand and would resist even her strength. Quickly, Janeway reached over and grabbed it, handing it to Seven who accepted it without comment, understanding what it was for.

Thus protected, always important while having sex, Janeway resumed her feather light touches of Seven’s bared thighs, running her fingertips over the smooth skin until she once more reached the juncture of her legs. Parting the puffy lips, she stroked the silky flesh beneath, rubbing lightly over the ridge that seemed to throb beneath her touch. Seven made a sound, low and deep, her whole body quivering. Janeway smiled and then leaned forward, replacing her fingers with her tongue. Seven’s taste flooded her mouth as she traced the slick ribbon with deliberate delicacy.

“Kathryn.” Seven’s whisper was helpless.

The angle wasn’t the best so Janeway reached around to cup Seven’s buttocks with her palms, pulling her with her as she leaned back against the cushions. Seven followed readily, climbing up onto the sofa until she was straddling the captain, knees on either side of Janeway’s hips. Putting her head back, with Seven now fully accessible to her, Janeway feasted, holding Seven in place with firm hands gripping the full swells of her buttocks, squeezing rhythmically.

Seven’s flavor was of the finest vintage, her soft whimpers of delight, the most heartfelt of appreciation, the womanly scent a heady intoxicant. Janeway drank her in until Seven could stand it no longer. There was a distinct creak of abused metal and the captain knew the sculpture had not been as durable as she thought. Seven’s choked cry was accompanied by a deep shudder, and Janeway accepted the new rush of moisture and the soft flutters against her tongue.

Finally, Seven pulled away, easing down onto the sofa as if she had no energy left. Janeway accepted her into her arms, submerging into the power of her kiss. But Janeway could only indulge it for so long. It was the middle of her shift, after all.

“Darling, I need to get back to work,” she muttered regretfully.

“No,’ Seven protested softly, tugging at the captain’s uniform tunic. “I want to please you.”

“You can,” Janeway promised as she captured Seven’s hands in her own. “Later.”

Seven hesitated, and then sighed. “Very well.” She kissed her again. “Thank you, Kathryn.”

“Anytime, my love.”

Janeway released her embrace, watching as Seven pulled up her trousers and found her boot, which had worked its way under the couch. After another kiss, Seven straightened her tunic and slipped out of the ready room. Janeway needed a few minutes more to compose herself, running the tip of her tongue over her lips, savoring the salt sweet flavor that lingered there. With a certain regret, she rose to her feet and went into the ensuite where she washed her face, brushed her teeth and resumed her day, It wasn’t that she hadn’t been aroused. She most certainly was, but sometimes it was enough to please Seven and hold off her own pleasure for another time. It made the inevitable reciprocation even more satisfying. And Janeway could expect Seven to reciprocate once she was off duty in the most attentive of ways, far above and beyond a mere quickie in the ready room.

Smiling, she brought up the report submitted by Dr. Stone regarding the earlier incident. The counselor indicated this was only a preliminary assessment, but that her immediate outlook was positive for the most part. Janeway was pleased. For all intents and purposes, Ro was the pack’s alpha from this moment forward.

As for the rest of the required elements, the senior staff had been brought on board as much as was possible, though Janeway was aware Lt. Rekar still held some serious doubts. That was fine, She didn’t need his acceptance at this stage, just his ability to obey orders. Meanwhile, department heads like B’Elanna and Lenara Kahn had used their influence…and B’Elanna’s deft gift of gossipy gab… on their subordinates whenever possible to soften the impact of any final announcement. Even the dinners with the Dominion envoy had proved successful, no matter how much Janeway had been required to grit her teeth when Weyoun had been seated across from her, bending her ear with continuous chatter about everything and nothing.

It seemed that things were coming together nicely for her to incorporate the Breen into the crew. Ro’s complete assumption of authority over them was the final piece put in place…as far as the crew was concerned. She just needed one last thing to make it completely okay for her to go ahead with it. And perhaps it was the most awkward piece of all.

Setting aside Stone’s report for the moment, she returned to the personnel files she’d been avoiding before Seven’s unanticipated, but much appreciated visit to the bridge. After her duty shift, she took the turbolift down to deck thirteen where she picked up Jake, putting him on his leash though he was trained enough to walk at her heel without needing it. Where they were going might require pulling him out of there in a hurry. A touch of her comm badge transmitted a delicate request for Seven's and Ro’s presence in sickbay.

On deck six, she and Jake exited the turbolift and strolled down the corridor, Jake’s ears up and alert as he trotted beside her, aware that this was not part of his normal routine. As they entered sickbay, she watched his reactions closely as he sniffed, getting a good whiff of the scents floating in the internally processed atmosphere.

Immediately, his hackles went up and his head lowered. They were not even in the private room where the Breen were staying and already, he was reluctant to move forward. He even began to back away, tugging at the leash, a thin whine rising from the back of his throat.

“Easy, boy,” she murmured.

In her office, Pulaski looked up through the transparencies, but remained where she was. Janeway had no idea where Lewis was. Perhaps the EMH had turned himself off for the moment. Or maybe he was out on a house call. He enjoyed that.

She looked back as the double doors to sickbay slid open for Ro and Seven to enter. Jake immediately scrambled toward his other mistress, yanking the leash from Janeway’s hand as he curled around Seven’s legs, cringing. Seven stopped and knelt to put her hand on his head, picking up his leash with the other. He pressed against her, shivering, and she rubbed his ears gently.

“It is all right,” she told him in that oddly serious tone she used whenever she was talking to him, as if he were an unusually bright, but extremely young child that could somehow understand her. She often spoke to Miral in much the same way. “I will protect you.”

“Maybe this is not such a good idea,” Janeway said.

Ro put her hands on her hips. “Better now under controlled conditions than have them accidentally run into you while you’re out on a walk.” She paused. “They might kill him and then Seven would probably have to kill them.”

Seven flashed her a look. “Yes,” she said simply.

Sometimes the captain wondered how serious her spouse truly was when it came to comments like that, or maybe she knew full well how serious Seven was and just didn’t like to think about it. But Ro was right, this had to be done. Jake was a member of the crew and a part of her family. She had no idea how the Breen would react to his presence. Maybe they wouldn’t at all, any more than she would react to an alien carrying around a monkey for a pet, but they had to be sure. As Ro pointed out, if they didn’t do this and she ran into the Breen during one of her strolls on the lower decks where they could take offense and act before she or anyone else could stop them, well…she comprehended that Jake was only a dog, and the Breen were a sentient species and she was a Starfleet captain, but maybe she’d be the one to end their existence in that event and that disturbed her on a whole other level than just thinking about what the consequences would be if Seven did it.

Jake didn’t want to go into the room. Seven finally had to pick him up and carry him in. Janeway stood with her arms crossed over her chest, watching everyone closely, but not saying anything. She just strived to look important. Ro was the one who crossed over to where the Breen were grouped at one end of the room by the table.

Ro pointed at Jake who was quivering in Seven’s arms. Janeway suspected that it was only because Seven was the one holding him that kept him from a frantic struggle to get away. “Do you know what that is?”

Grendel looked at Ro. “We do,” he said, scorn lacing his tone. “It’s an animal. One that scavenges in the wake of humans. We consider them vermin and deal with them accordingly.”

Janeway felt her jaw set as she struggled not to say anything. Seven, she saw, was having equal trouble, her lips thinned, her eyes a dark azure as she glared at the Breen.

“This ‘vermin’ is the companion of my alpha,” Ro said. “Should you encounter it, you will leave it alone. You will not harm it in any way.”

Grendel looked supremely bored. “It may perish through sheer terror,” he pointed out. “We cannot be held responsible for that.”

“Just go the other way if you see it coming,” Ro suggested sternly.

The Breen dipped their heads in that half bow of assent and Janeway nodded at Seven, indicating they needed to get out of there. Outside, Janeway realized that Jake had urinated down the front of Seven’s uniform, which he hadn’t done since he was the smallest of puppies. It had been funny then. It was not the slightest bit funny now.

“Take him back to our quarters,” Janeway said, tone heavy with regret. “We’ll make it up to him, somehow.”

Seven left, still carrying him, all the while murmuring assurances and encouragement to him. Janeway sighed and turned to Ro. “Am I insane?”

Ro smiled faintly. “That’s a loaded question. Do you really want me to answer it?”

“I will,” Pulaski said cheerfully as she joined them.

“Never mind,” Janeway said. She looked back at the room where the Breen were staying, focused on the reinforced door, which was locked now but wouldn't be once the decision was made. “If I take them on, it’s like carrying a loaded weapon that could go off at any time. I have to trust that you manage to cover all contingencies when explaining what they can and can’t do. I don’t know that it’s fair to expect that of you. To expect it of anyone.”

Ro shrugged lightly. “We won’t know until we try, Captain.”

Janeway glanced at Pulaski. “You’ve been suspiciously silent on this matter,” she said. “That’s not like you.”

The snowy haired doctor shook her head almost mournfully. “Kathryn, we’re all flesh and bone, and it all looks pretty much the same when you’re on the table with your insides spilling out. Besides, I’ve seen you work with Cardassians and Klingons and Romulans and whatever other aliens who’ve taken a potshot at us. Hell, you even married a Borg. You see potential allies where other people only see enemies. You always have. That can get you killed or it can make you great. So far, it’s made you great. Why stop now?”

That was amazingly flattering coming from Pulaski, and Janeway was sure she was blushing. Avoiding Ro’s amused gaze, she inclined her head. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Just hope this isn’t the one that kills you,” Pulaski added carelessly as she went back to her office.

Now it was Ro’s turn to look away, her features rigid as she did her best not to smile. Janeway exhaled slowly. One day she’d learn.

“I need to go home,” she said. “Though I’m sure Seven is going to let me know what she thinks about putting Jake in harm’s way.”

“Probably,” Ro said. “I’m glad I have a child. I don’t have to show her off to anyone.”

“You show her off to everyone,” Janeway scoffed as they walked toward the turbolift.

“True.” Ro stared ahead as they stood together in the lift. “It was the puppies, Captain.”

Janeway reached out and stopped their ascent, knowing there were only a couple of decks down from Ro’s quarters and wanting to finish the conversation. “What do you mean?”

“Grendel had images of a female and young in his cabin. It greatly influenced my opinion of him. And I think, because I saved them from being destroyed when their ship was and gave them to him in sickbay, it influenced his opinion of us. They hide beneath those helmets and armor, never daring to reveal themselves because they’re so vulnerable.” Ro looked at the floor, her face thoughtful. “I don’t want to say they’re scared, because they’re not scared of fighting or dying or anything like that, but they are afraid.”

Janeway absorbed that, both the words and that the usually reserved Ro Laren was saying them. “I think you’re right,” she said. “God, the atrocities that have arisen from simple fear. When will it ever end?”

“Maybe never,” Ro allowed. “Because people are people and the wheel keeps turning with each new civilization that develops. Still, the doctor was right. People like you who try to get past the fear? It makes me proud to serve under you, Captain.”

“Wow, two compliments in as many minutes,” Janeway said. “I am on a roll.”

Ro laughed and reached out, reinitializing the lift. “Maybe it’ll help counteract what you’re about to walk into with Seven.”

Janeway sighed. “One can only hope.”

“Where’s Jake?” the captain asked as she entered their quarters.

“In our bedroom, where he shall sleep tonight,” Seven said shortly from behind the counter where she was slicing up a variety of vegetables on a wooden cutting board.

Janeway eyed her. “Does that mean I’m sleeping on the couch?”

“Do not be ludicrous, Kathryn.”

Janeway exhaled audibly and spread out her hands. “It had to be done,” she said. “If you know of a better way to have handled it, let me hear it.”

Seven paused and looked up from her food preparation, frowning. “I do not,” she admitted finally.

“All right, then.” Janeway slipped out of her tunic and tossed it over the back of the armchair. “What’s for dinner?”

Seven let go of her irritation. Janeway was right, it had been the most efficient way to introduce the Breen and Jake to each other. That he had been terrified had been unfortunate. Now they understood his reaction and would adjust accordingly when the Breen were incorporated into the crew. And there was no reason for them not to be, especially since it was clear to her that Janeway wanted it.

“We are having sautéed vegetables with grilled pepper steak and baby garlic potatoes,” Seven told her.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Janeway asked as she sat down on the stool.

“Your stomach does, at any rate,” Seven noted.

 Janeway immediately reached over the counter to seize her chin with her fingers and hold her still as she leaned over the counter to kiss her. “All of me loves all of you,” she growled, sounding like the Supreme Alpha Bitch she was.

Seven smiled and kissed her back before resuming her preparation. While she worked, Janeway munched on slices of raw green pepper and mushrooms. “How is Jake? Really?”

“He has not come out to see you,” Seven pointed out. “He remains under the chair in the bedroom. However, his memory is limited and eventually he will forget the source of his fear.” She paused. “It will return if we come in physical contact with any of the Breen. Their scent will transfer to us.”

Janeway seemed to shiver a little. “I don’t think that will happen,” she said. “I can’t imagine an occasion where I would feel the need to touch them.”

Seven disagreed. Not in the immediate future, perhaps, but as the Breen were assimilated into the crew, as they became part of the ship, Janeway would continue to come in contact with them. As familiarity grew, her natural tactile nature would assert itself. Seven didn’t think the captain was consciously aware of just how often she touched others while speaking to them, from a hand on their arm, or a pat on their back, to a reassuring squeeze of their shoulder. It merely depended on the tone of the conversation, but the tactile contact remained constant and present as did her habit of standing well within their personal space while conversing.

Perhaps it was even part of her initial attraction, Seven mused briefly, remembering her conversation with Leah about what had drawn her to the captain. Unlike anyone else on Voyager, not only had Janeway made a point of interacting with the Borg drone, she had touched her frequently, unexpected contact of warm flesh against Seven's skin, shocking and thrilling. She had stood close as they spoke, peering up into Seven’s face as if she were the only being in the universe. No, it was not surprising Seven had fallen in love with her. It was merely incomprehensible that not everyone did.

“You should make peace with him,” Seven told her.

Janeway hesitated, looked vaguely sheepish and snagged another few vegetable slices before sliding off the stool and heading for the bedroom. Seven could hear her talking to the dog, urging him gently from his hiding place, before both finally returned to their living quarters. Janeway spent some time playing with him, using a squeaky toy to twirl him around until it was time for her to wash up as Seven put dinner on the table.

Usually, at this point, Jake was put out in the arboretum with his dish of evening food, but Seven brought it into their quarters so he could eat as they did. After dinner, Janeway decided not to take him for a walk, deciding he’d had enough excitement for one evening. Instead, the three of them turned in early, Seven and Janeway in the bed as he curled up on the chair in the corner.

Before long, Seven felt Janeway’s hands moving over her beneath the blanket, reminded that she owed a certain amount of reciprocation for the earlier encounter in the ready room. Not that they kept score, of course, but Seven did like to keep her spouse happy and fulfilled in every way. The meal, one of Janeway’s favorites, was only part of it.

With a small sound of anticipation, Seven pulled her close, finding her lips in the dark and kissing her deeply, exploring her mouth with intense enjoyment. The sensation of silky skin and warm curves against her, the wiry strength of her arms around her, the heady taste of her lips and tongue was enthralling to Seven. She basked in her embrace, feeling liquid heat flow through her to pool in her groin. It was never merely reciprocal, she thought as they kissed until they were breathless. It was always wanted.

She so loved touching Janeway, as she loved to be touched by her, sliding hands over the full length of bodies, along swells and dips, over sensitive flesh that quivered beneath their fingertips. Dipping into moisture that lubricated path into deep recesses, drawing from each other incoherent, guttural cries that grew more emphatic until they cumulated into mutual, drawn out sounds of pure sensual satisfaction, provoking Jake into a startled bark and quick retreat to the sofa in the outer living area.

Afterward, they lay languid in each other’s arms, Janeway’s sweat moist against Seven’s skin, cooling them as it dried in the night. “Thank you, darling.”

Seven wasn’t sure why they used such polite formalities, but it had become more than just habit. It was an honest expression of their profound appreciation for the pleasure they found in each other, for the joy given and received so often.

“You are welcome,” she said, quietly. “As always.”

Janeway made a small sound of amusement. Head resting on Seven’s shoulder, hand on the plane of her chest, her fingers played idly with Seven’s right nipple. The caress was more soothing than stimulating, though Seven knew if she did it long enough…

“I’m going to assign the Breen to Ro’s security detail tomorrow,” Janeway said quietly. “We have no civilians in that department.”

“You are wondering if you should also assign them rank,” Seven guessed. She considered it. “I would suggest you not. It would provoke ill will in others who achieved theirs through merit.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” Janeway said. “Ro will just have to figure out where they fit in her chain of command. Eventually, maybe they’ll acclimate enough to go to other departments.”

Seven contemplated having a Breen in the science department. Geometrics, perhaps. That was physical and involved dirt. They might adapt there. “We plan to spend only a year on this mission,” she reminded gently.

“Yes, correct again,” Janeway allowed. “I’m getting a little ahead of myself.” She let out her breath, a soft sigh in the darkness. “I’m wondering if I should include the Breen in my next report to Starfleet Command. Maybe I should wait until I see if this experiment will be successful or not.”

Periodically, Millennium would pause in its exploration, open a localized slipstream conduit back to the Federation and shoot through a message buoy. It took a significant amount of preparation and always seemed more expenditure of energy than it was worth, but it did allow Starfleet Headquarters to know that their ship was still out there and carrying out the mission to which it was assigned.

“We are not scheduled for message transmission for another month,” Seven pointed out. “Perhaps by that time, you will have a more complete perspective on the situation.”

“Goodness, you’re on a roll tonight,” Janeway muttered.

“That indicates that being correct is an unusual mode for me, As opposed to it being my natural state of being.”

“Modest, aren’t you?” Janeway squeezed the nearby nipple, pinching it a little in admonishment, making Seven shift and reach over to tickle her. “No, wait, I’m sorry. Don’t,” Janeway pleaded as she squirmed away.

Satisfied she had made her point, Seven settled back down onto the sheet, unsurprised when she heard Jake in the outer room jump down from the sofa, drawn by the small commotion. His nails clicked as he padded across the deck and then he was in the bedroom, jumping up onto the bed to join them. Janeway let out a muffled oath, startled by his sudden appearance, and the next few minutes were spent arranging appropriate sleeping positions, Janeway and Seven spooned together on Janeway’s side of the bed, with Jake curled up against Seven’s back. It was a bit crowded, but for this night, acceptable.

Seven woke the next morning to the discomforting slobber and swipe of Jake’s tongue across her ear and cheek, which was one of the reasons he was not often allowed to sleep with them, and the angular protrusion of Janeway’s elbow in her stomach. Feeling somewhat pressured, Seven shoved Jake aside, untangled herself from Janeway and slipped out of bed with a distinct sense of being freed from confinement.

Bypassing the sonic shower for once, she chose the hydro stall, wanting the tactile sensation of gushing hot water to wash away the stickiness covering her, comprised of both her spouse’s effluent and that of her dog’s. Feeling considerably better once she finished, she dried herself off with a large fluffy towel and dressed in the uniform she had laid out for herself the night before. Janeway continued to slumber peacefully as Seven passed through the bedroom to the out living area, though Jake jumped off the bed and followed Seven, quite ready for his breakfast.

Seven took his dish back out into the arboretum, filling it and leaving Jake there for a run while she returned to the kitchenette to prepare breakfast. By the time Janeway made an appearance, there was a stack of blueberry waffles and bowls of fruit on the table, along with a steaming mug of coffee. The captain didn’t waste time on discussion, merely fell to stuffing her face as she perused the padd, going over the reports from the beta and gamma shifts.

Seven consumed her cereal and yogurt in comfortable silence, looking over her own departmental reports that were transmitted to her personal padd with punctual regularity. She made note of an appointment she had scheduled with the counselor for later in the afternoon, and another one for the holodeck where she had a music lesson.

She had discovered, over the past few weeks, that there was more to playing a guitar than the mere mechanical application of chords. There were a variety of styles and even forms of the instrument, from acoustical to electric, which impacted the mood and intent of the songs she chose to sing. It was fascinating and far more involved than she had initially anticipated. Enjoyable as well, much as it had been while learning how to cook, particularly under Gretchen’s firm tutelage. Though the holographic teachers she chose, as recommended by the computer’s ‘Learning 20th Century Guitar’ program, frequently displayed strange and baffling personalities. This ‘Jimi Hendrix’ was a new one and she wondered what he would be like as an instructor. And what the location would be, changing with each lesson and tutor, from a church basement with Sister Rosetta Tharpe, to a small corrugated tin shack in the swamps of Mississippi with Elmore James, to a smoky bar in Nashville with Chet Atkins, to the wide open expanse of the Montana plains. She’d particularly enjoyed that last one, able to incorporate riding a horse with the act of playing guitar as a man named Roy Rogers rode beside her on a matching palomino pony. Seven also now understood from where the name ‘Trigger’, originated.

“Darling, are you free for lunch?”

Seven glanced up. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe a picnic? It’s been a while.” Janeway offered her a fond smile.

“Acceptable. Thirteen hundred?”

“I’ll meet you in my ready room. We’ll replicate some of those chicken wraps and some potato salad.”

Janeway checked the time and made an abrupt sound, putting down her fork and rising from her chair. “Whoops, I meant to stop by sickbay this morning.” She came around the table and offered Seven a quick kiss and hug. “Have a good day, my darling.”

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven responded. “Do the same.”

But Janeway was already out the door, and amused, Seven finished her breakfast, cleaned up and retrieved Jake. Dropping him off on deck thirteen, she watched him be swallowed up in a gleeful ball of enthusiastic youngsters, before heading for her office on deck eight. As she entered the lab, she saw that Lenara Kahn was already in her own office. Upon spotting her, Seven diverted her initial path and tapped lightly on the frame of the open door, though as department head, she was free to walk into any office in Millennium’s science section at any time. Lenara glanced up, smiled when she saw who it was, and motioned her in.

“Seven, have you seen the readings on the binary star system?” she asked, enthusiasm strong in her tone.

“I have not,” Seven responded as she took a seat. “That is not why I am here.”

“No?”

“I wanted to ask about your dinner last night,” Seven said. “You seemed unusually agitated when speaking of it yesterday.”

Lenara appeared taken aback. “I wasn’t agitated,” she protested. When Seven just sat there, looking at her, she spread her hands. “Fine. I admit, I was a little nervous, but there was no reason to be.” She exhaled loudly, sounding exasperated. “Nothing happened.”

Seven blinked. “You mean, you did not eat?”

“No, I mean nothing happened,” Lenara said, leaning forward intently.

“Ah, you are referring to copulation,” Seven said knowingly. “That is surprising. I assumed from the regular reports of your relationship’s progress that last night was indeed ‘the night’, as you speculated.” She paused. “Is the counselor uninterested in a physical union?”

There was a part of her that wasn’t entirely comfortable with this unique insight into her counselor, but ever since she’d been separated from the Collective, she’d been exposed to and participated in shipboard gossip, especially while she was becoming friends with B’Elanna. In a way, it was like the voices of the Collective, transferring vast amounts of data along diverse lines, binding the crew together in a web of information, much of it irrelevant or untrue, but often quite intriguing. Nothing moved faster than gossip through a ship. It defied the laws of physics, of time and space. Relationships, especially between senior officers, were of particular interest. Seven just preferred going to the source, whenever possible.

Lenara tapped her stylus against the top of her desk. “I don’t think that’s it, Seven. I think she’s playing hard to get. A psychiatrist would know how to do that better than anyone, wouldn’t she?”

“Perhaps,” Seven said, considering it in that light. “It has been a month. What is the standard period of restraint for such a continuous interaction?”

“Sometimes it takes as long as it takes,” Lenara said. She stopped and an expression of enlightenment came over her face. “I suppose that’s my answer right there, isn’t it?”

“Is it heightening your emotional attachment to her?” Seven asked, curiously.

Lenara hesitated, and then nodded. “It is. I’m not used to…well, waiting.” Her brows drew down. “That’s her intention, isn’t it? To keep me chasing after her.” She frowned. “I thought she was the one chasing me.”

“Perhaps, it is both,” Seven allowed. “I am aware that anticipation can be as important at the act itself. Or as Kathryn has told me, ‘It is the journey, not always the destination, that matters’.”

Lenara did not seem impressed by this bit of insight, and Seven wondered if she dared ask Stone about it during their upcoming session.

Or was counseling the counselor deemed acceptable?

Seven of Nine dominated a room when she entered it, Stone thought as she watched her push through the swinging doors and cross the planked flooring. Outside, the sound of horses neighing from where they were tied to the railing was a counterpoint to the clatter of wagon wheels and the conversations of passing strollers and the bar patrons inside the dim saloon.

Stone had adjusted to Seven utilizing varied holoprograms around their sessions. She wasn’t the first patient to do so, but she was the first to use such odd and varied scenarios that they told Stone very little about her psychological makeup. They often surprised her, and were rarely what she expected. Of course, she had set the precedent when she introduced Seven to the concept of counseling while riding. Now, they could meet anywhere from a desert oasis in Arizona, to a jazz club in New Orleans to a rocky beach on an alien planet. Initially, they had all been riding programs, but lately, they had involved music in some way.

At the moment, despite the fact that this was a Western saloon from the 1800s, there was a band on the small stage playing rock and roll. Stone was beginning to feel as if she had fallen down the rabbit hole on some level. Except Seven wasn’t the Mad Hatter, or the Caterpillar, making it all up, she was just Alice, exploring what it meant to be her.

Oh, the papers Stone would be able to write on this. If only she could formulate some concrete conclusions on what it meant about Seven’s state of mind.

Seven settled into the chair opposite her, regarding her with polite attention. Stone smiled. “I like the music,” she said. On stage, the singer, a rough and worn man with long hair and a raspy voice, sang something about going ‘against the wind’.

“I do, as well,” Seven said. “The songs tell stories. Some are relevant to me. Many are not, but I still enjoy how they sound.”

“Is experiencing music new for you?”

“Not new, just…different.” Seven paused. “When Kathryn and I were about to be married, I was told that we required ‘a song’.”

“Who told you that?”

“B’Elanna. She explained that during the reception, there was a ritual known as the ‘first dance’ and offered me a large selection of romantic songs from which to choose. I did not find the songs of special relevance, but I listened to them and was eventually able to pare down the list to a size suitably limited enough to show Kathryn, who chose one she found acceptable. It did not make a difference to me which one she chose or what the words within the melody did or did not imply. Music, for the most part, was irrelevant, although I have always enjoyed dancing with Kathryn to various types.”

Stone took a slow breath. The progression of this woman was unlike anyone she had ever encountered. At first, she thought it was a matter of Seven becoming less Borg and more human, until it occurred to her that Seven didn’t know what ‘human’ meant despite the examples continually imposed on her by the people around her. She could grasp the concept of which behavior was considered ‘human’, but that didn’t mean that was what she was transforming into. Instead, she was becoming a unique being, not Borg, not Human, not anything that Stone recognized. The counselor found it mesmerizing.

“And your view of music has recently changed,” she said.

“Yes, as I expand my experiences, one area of study is music, specifically with vocal accompaniment. I decided to examine how songs influence emotion. In that pursuit, I listened again to the song that was played at my wedding and suddenly, it was a completely different experience for me. The words held significant import. They…” Seven paused, apparently searching for the correct way to explain it. “The song expressed my emotions in a way that I am unable to adequately verbalize.”

“Music can do that sometimes,” Stone agreed. “Are you now finding it easier to express your emotion in song than with your words?”

“Occasionally,” Seven said, and the furrow in her brow, just beside her ocular implant, implied that it remained deeply perplexing to her. “I can find a song that can completely convey in the time frame of a few minutes, exactly what I am feeling, when all the words I possess could not adequately describe the combination of emotion were I to speak about it for hours.” She met Stone’s gaze squarely. “I do not understand. It is…illogical.”

Stone swallowed a smile at the hint of outrage in Seven’s voice. “That’s the key.”

Seven stared at her blankly. “What is?”

“Logic. Emotions aren’t always logical. But your language is. Seven, the way you speak is measured and precise. You use words to communicate ideas, theories, and scientific principles in clear, concise terms. Until now, that was enough to explain your feelings, because they were also well defined. But as you evolve, so do your emotions. They become more complicated. Less pure. Less distinct within themselves. You no longer feel any one thing when a situation occurs, you react with a combination of emotional cues.” Stone stopped and waited for Seven to absorb that, which she did with slightly narrowed eyes, and a slight tilt to her head.

“Proceed,” Seven said after a moment, indicating that she comprehended what Stone was saying so far.

“Songs and poems use words and the cadence of language the way an artist uses a brush to paint,” Stone continued. “They are combined and shaped to convey concepts that aren’t scientific. They spring from imagination and fantasy, emotion and free thought. Interpretation of the finished product is not exact.”

“The same song or artwork may evoke different reactions in different people,” Seven said.

“Exactly. That’s why you found songs irrelevant in the past. They didn’t explain anything to you. They couldn’t. You thought in very linear terms. Black and white. Either or. But now, you think in more abstract ways. You can grasp what a song might mean, and apply it to your own unique situation. Consider it progress.”

Seven lifted her brow. “To what end?”

Stone, who thought things had been going along nicely, was brought up short, as she often was with this woman. “What do you mean?”

“To what am I progressing?” Seven said, with an inflection that defined each word, as if Stone was mentally slow.

“To who you’ll eventually become,” Stone said.

“That is not an answer,” Seven pointed out.

Stone held up a hand in apology. “No, it’s not,” she said. “Because there is no answer, Seven. You won’t know who you’ll become until you become it.”

Seven frowned. “This is beginning to sound like temporal mechanics.”

Startled, Stone laughed. “Maybe it does,” she admitted. “After all, we’re discussing a future that is unknown.” She leaned back in her chair. The singer was now growling his way through a song about ‘rock and roll never forgetting’. Or perhaps it was ‘forgets’. “Tell me something. Is the captain the same person now than she was when you first met her?”

“Not at all,” Seven said.

“You’re not the same person, either.”

“No.” Seven dipped her head. “We are constantly adjusting to each other because of that evolution. I am concerned that—” She stopped.

Stone knew she was very close to something very important. “You are concerned about what?”

Seven was silent for a moment. “I am concerned that there may be a time when we can no longer adjust to each other’s evolutions. That our progressions will take us in separate directions.”

“Has it so far?”

“No.”

“Then why do you think you will stop adjusting to each other in the future?”

Seven shook her head fretfully. “I do not know.”

“Is it because in a different timeline, you did go in very separate directions?”

Again, Seven was silent and Stone watched the progression of emotion in her narrow features, the shadows that rippled across the brilliant blue eyes. Her ‘yes’ was barely audible. Stone took another moment to consider what she would say next. On stage, the singer had moved into a song about ‘no man's land’.

“Seven, in that timeline, it wasn’t a matter of being together and growing apart, it was a matter of never having been together in the first place. That’s not the case here. This universe brought you together, but it’s your own actions that keep you and the captain that way. That’s true of everyone. It's my experience that if you really want something, you’ll find a way to get it. I know you want to be with the captain. I believe she wants to be with you. That is why, no matter what happens, no matter what way you evolve, you keep finding a way to be together.” Stone leaned forward. “Do you still want to be with the captain?”

“Yes.” Seven’s voice was much stronger now.

“Do you believe that she still wants to be with you?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, and Stone was looking for any hint of uncertainty.

“Have either of you ever allowed anything to keep you from what you truly want?”

“Duty,” Seven said, with a slight thread of what might be anger behind the word.
“Ultimately?” Stone pressed. “When it really counted? Didn't one of you always discover a way past duty to achieve what you really wanted? Each other?”

Seven paused to consider it. “Yes,” she said, with a touch of relief.

“Then, can we agree that perhaps your concern in this particular matter is unwarranted?”

Again, Seven took a few seconds to consider that. “We can,” she said, finally.

“Excellent,” Stone said as a soft chime echoed through the room. “Perfect timing.”

Together, they rose from the table and strolled for the doors. As they walked, Seven said, “End Program,” and the world around them shifted to the stark black of the holodeck, ebony squares outlined by golden lines illuminating a vast chamber. It was an abrupt transition that made Stone stumble and appeared to have absolute no effect on Seven.

“Why the saloon?” the counselor asked as they exited into the corridor.

Seven glanced sideways at her. “It is an interesting time,” she said. “One that the captain and I, along with Commander Ro and B’Elanna, experienced in another holoprogram. I am intrigued by the ‘Wild West’.”

“And the band?”

Seven smiled faintly. “I enjoy the music. For some reason, I find them complimentary even though they are from two very distinctive time periods.”

“Interesting,” Stone remarked as they stepped onto the turbolift. “Deck six.”

“Deck three,” Seven instructed the lift. “Counselor, may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Stone said. “You can ask me anything.”

She had no way of knowing that offering such blanket permission to Seven was not always the wisest course of action. She was suitably educated in the next few seconds.

“Are you deliberately withholding participation in sexual intercourse as a display of control over Lenara Kahn?”

“What?”

Seven glanced over at her. “Do you not understand the question?” It was offered as an honest inquiry.

Stone shut her mouth, teeth clicking together. “Why do you ask?” she managed.

“Lenara is a friend,” Seven explained. “She is perplexed.” She paused. “I am perplexed. Lenara is an attractive individual, both intellectually and physically. I am unsure why you would be reluctant to copulate with her when you continue to indicate you are interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her.”

“She’s talked to you about this?”

“Of course,” Seven said, as if the question was foolish. “We are friends.”

Stone inhaled deeply, trying to bring her reactions under control. “This is an inappropriate conversation, Seven.”

“Is it?” Seven was obviously intrigued enough by that to reach forward and touch the controls, stopping the lift. She turned to Stone, facing her directly. “In what way is it inappropriate?”

“What happens between Lenara and myself is private,” Stone said, working to keep her tone even rather than outraged. “And frankly, none of your business.”

Seven blinked. “And yet, all of my ‘business’ is apparently yours.”

Stone opened her mouth to respond, hesitated and tried to remember who she was speaking to. “That’s different,” she said. “I have to know about you so I can help you.”

“I am endeavoring to help you,” Seven told her earnestly. “And Lenara.”

“Why?”

“Because then it will cease to be a concern of hers, and by extension, mine,” Seven explained, quite logically.

“Why is it a concern of yours?”

Seven favored her with a look that made Stone blink. It was the sort of expression that might be bestowed on a malfunctioning replicator that had just gotten her order wrong for the fifth time. “As already established, Lenara is my friend,” Seven said, again spacing out her words in a way that would enable Stone to understand them. Stone could see where that could become rather irritating over a certain period and it gave her increased respect for Janeway’s store of patience. “Why are you avoiding the question?”

“I’m not avoiding the question,” Stone responded.

Seven’s expression made it clear what she thought of that blatant falsehood.

“Fine,” Stone said, sensing suddenly that she might be in this turbolift a while unless she offered up some kind of answer. “Lenara and I are building something. I want to see where it goes before we…I don’t want to rush things. Sex means something to me.”

“And you wish it to mean something to her,” Seven concluded with complete understanding, much to Stone’s astonishment. “You should explain that to her. Otherwise, she will begin to believe the exact opposite, that copulation is a form of manipulation on your part, rather than that of vulnerability.”

 That settled, she touched the wall panel, resuming their motion. Her whole presence, from body language to vocal intonation was an unspoken ‘There, was that so hard?’ in Stone’s direction. The counselor felt as if she’d been blindsided by a phaser blast, set on full stun, and was only now beginning to come out of the pin-and-needled semi-consciousness.

She was only vaguely aware of leaving the lift and walking down the corridor to her office. Inside, she took a seat and regarded her screen, knowing she had to put down her notes about Seven’s session while they were fresh in her memory. Except all that was fresh in her memory was the discussion in the turbolift and the distinct sensation that she had met her match.

The counselor had just been counseled.

The End

​

*References to song lyrics correspond to: Warren, Diane (1997). “How Do I Live”, Track 1 on Yearwood, Trisha: (Songbook) A Collection of Hits, CD. MCA. Used without permission, in preference over LeAnn Rimes’ version, released the same year, to illustrate the difference between a woman and a child singing it, which is significant indeed.