Janeway stepped into the messhall, suddenly aware that all attention had abruptly centered on her, the conversation dying, then starting up again almost immediately, louder and considerably more animated than before. Almost as if they were attempting to cover up what they had been talking about, she thought dismally. With a distinctly sinking feeling inside, she realized that Chakotay was not the only one to have found out what was going on.

Heavens, how many people make a point of skimming the daily ship logs? Though it would only take one person with a aptitude for spreading gossip to make sure it made the rounds of the small Intrepid-class vessel.

She thought about not continuing, then realized that turning around and walking out would look far worse than what she was already experiencing. I can do this, she told herself sternly. I'm a Starfleet Captain and this is MY ship. Act as if this is perfectly commonplace, and everyone else will take their cue from me.

She crossed the room to the table in the corner where Seven and the ship's only child, Naomi Wildman were having lunch together. The Borg looked up and the large smile that crossed her face might as well have been a huge flashing sign.

So much for coming down here to give her a talk on discretion, Janeway groaned internally.

"Kathryn," Seven said, her eyes a bright blue. "Please sit down."

"Thank you," Janeway said and did, feeling every eye in the place drilling into the back of her head. The only one who didn't seem interested was Naomi who was busy plowing through a plate of Neelix's leola root stew. She nodded politely to the captain, but was clearly more intent on finishing her dinner.

"Did you wish to have lunch together?" Seven asked. Her face fell. "I have already consumed my nutritional supplement." Then brightened. "I can replicate another."

"No, thank you, Seven," Janeway said, trying not to squirm. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something, but I think it's too late."

Seven looked at her blankly. "It is?"

Janeway smiled ruefully. "I wanted to tell you to keep our relationship under wraps," she said. "At least, the fact that we had—well, altered it."

Seven nodded gravely. "I understand," she said. She glanced around covertly and leaned forward. "I have told the Doctor, but no one else. I'm sure he will keep it confidential."

Janeway regarded her wistfully. Seven honestly wasn't aware that it was currently all over the ship. The captain envied such innocence.

"That's good," Janeway managed with a straight face. "However, Seven, you mentioned something in your daily log about it."

"I know," Seven said regretfully. "I was not aware that it would be unwise." She looked at her anxiously. "Do you think anyone read it?"

Janeway tried not to smile. "I'm afraid practically everyone did, Seven," she said. "I just want to make sure you won't do it again."

"I will not," Seven promised. She tilted her head. "Did you read it?" she asked shyly.

"I did," the captain said.

"And?"

Janeway blinked. "And what?" she asked.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" Seven asked.

Janeway remembered the 'formal request' Seven had mentioned in her log. She smiled gently at the Borg. "Of course," she said. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"Chez Sandrines?" Seven offered. "Do you like dancing?"

Oh, boy, Janeway thought. Everyone and their dog was bound to find a reason to pop by the holodeck this evening once the word got out that Seven had called up Chez Sandrines. It was a general program which meant anyone could run it, and enter the holodeck while it was running without requesting permission. Still, the captain thought resolutely, calling on the grim determination which had seen her through so many experiences fraught with peril prior to this, the sooner Seven and I are accepted as a couple, the sooner I can stop feeling like every move we make is under the most intense scrutiny.

"I would like that," she said.

She was aware that Seven was apparently waiting for her to kiss her good-bye, but that was far too much, too soon, in too public a place. Instead, she patted the Borg briskly on the hand, ignoring the disappointed expression, and hastily got out of there.

Outside the messhall, she promptly ran into Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. She linked her hands behind her back, and waited for the helmsman's inevitable comment, but her lambasting of Paris the day before must have still been in effect because he apparently was finding it quite hard to meet her eyes. Of course, if he now understood why she had reacted so strongly ... and she had to admit, her protective instincts toward Seven had been kicked into overdrive ... he would be even more careful in the future of doing anything that smacked of disrespect toward the Borg.

B'Elanna was less easily cowed.

The Klingon tilted her head. "Well," she said snarkily. "I hope all that study Seven did on us is put to good use."

Janeway's face tightened. "That will be all, Miss Torres," she said in her most absolute chilled command voice, one designed to throw the fear of immediate termination into the most hardened of alien opponents. She could not remember ever having used it on a crewmember before.

The lieutenant looked startled, seemed about to speak, then nodded her head. "I got you loud and clear, Captain," B'Elanna said in a considerably more subdued tone.

They brushed past her into the messhall, and Janeway continued on her way.

Just get me through the next few days, the captain thought.

Hearing the snicker of her little voice echo in her mind.

​

The Doctor was playing on the piano when Seven and Janeway entered Sandrines. The maitre d' hurried over and escorted them to a table in the corner by the fireplace. It was considered the 'best table in the place', Seven knew, and she hoped that Janeway was aware of that as well. The Borg was surprised to see Ensign Paris and Lt. Torres seated at a table across the room, while at the bar, Chakotay and Harry Kim tried not to be obvious as they glanced over their shoulders. Neelix and Ensign Samantha Wildman had a small table off the dance floor, and even Tuvok was seated at a table with Ensign Vorik and Susan Nicoletti not too far away. Filling out the rest of the crowd, several other crewmembers from the alpha and gamma shifts chatted and looked covertly Seven's way.

"This is ludicrous," Janeway grumbled as they were seated. "Who's minding the bridge?"

Seven had come to understand over the course of the past twelve hours how discomforting it was to be the center of attention and she bitterly regretted the lack of discretion she had shown, not only for herself but for how it made Janeway feel. Though so far, the captain seemed to be taking it mostly in stride. The comment about the lack of senior staff on the bridge, rather than here in the holodeck where the couple was sharing their second date, was the first real indication to Seven that the captain was also truly uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"Do you wish to leave?" Seven asked quietly, her heart sinking. "We could do this another time."

Janeway offered her a smile. "I'm fine," she said. "Seven, the sooner our relationship becomes commonplace rather than something new, the sooner everyone will leave us alone."

The waiter came over and deposited some menus. He was tall and thin, with a dark line over his upper lip ... a moustache, Seven identified. He also had a strange accent, no doubt reflecting the area and time period of the program; Marseilles, Paris, several years ago.

"Our specialties tonight are Lobster Thermidor and—"

"No," Seven said quickly.

Janeway looked at her and smiled, no doubt remembering Seven's description of her prior encounter with a crustacean.

"Duck a l'orange," the waiter finished, unperturbed.

Janeway regarded Seven. "May I order for us both?" she asked.

Seven felt relieved. "Please do," she requested.

Janeway looked up at him, and rattled off several sentences in French, impressing the Borg no end. He nodded and with an oily smile, responded with a string of similar words, then disappeared. Seven heaved a sigh of relief. Janeway appeared far less nervous about this than Lt. Chapman had been, but Seven was still feeling awkward and unsure about the whole thing.

Another waiter came over immediately and placed a bottle in a silver bucket full of ice. Seven raised an eyebrow as he poured a small amount into a glass, offering it to Janeway who tasted it, swirling it around her mouth before swallowing and nodded. He immediately refilled the captain's glass, then poured another for Seven before she could tell him that synthehol impaired her cortical function, and that water would suffice. Seven wondered why these waiters were so accommodating for Janeway when they had been practically nonexistent on her first date. Of course, she allowed to herself, Janeway was the Captain.

Seven took a sip from her glass, mimicking Janeway who was imbibing her wine with obvious enjoyment. The flavor was fruity, full bodied, though how the Borg knew that, she wasn't sure. It also spread a warmth through her that was not entirely due to the way Janeway's auburn hair was highlighted red by the fire next to them, or the softness in her remarkable blue grey eyes. Seven immediately put the glass down.

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "You don't like it?" she asked.

Seven hesitated. "A very small amount inhibits my functioning," she said.

Janeway nodded. "Then you're wise to limit yourself," she said approvingly. "Would you like something else?"

"Water is sufficient," Seven said. She looked down at her hands folded on her lap. Janeway seemed so at ease, so very comfortable. Not at all like she had been the night before. So why did Seven not feel the same sort of comfort?

"What's wrong?" Janeway asked softly.

"I do not know," Seven admitted. "I ... you are not nervous."

Janeway tilted her head. "That bothers you?"

"It ... I do not understand," Seven said, and she didn't, not even enough to put into words this distance she was feeling between them suddenly.

Janeway studied her for a moment. "Seven," she said quietly. "This isn't a real date."

Seven frowned. "It isn't?" she said unhappily.

"No," Janeway said and she leaned forward as if wanting to make things very clear. "This is an exercise intended to accommodate the crew, and get them off our backs. If I seem somewhat aloof, it just means that my diplomatic training has taken over. This has nothing to do with you and honestly, I didn't realize you would pick up on it. Believe me, if this were a real date, I would be far more nervous, and a lot less likely to be sitting way over here."

Seven was confused. "Where would you be sitting?"

"On your lap, my darling," Janeway said in a low tone only Seven's keen ears could hear, her eyes locked on the Borg's. "Kissing you until you couldn't see straight."

"Oh," Seven said weakly.

"I simply don't want us to have to spend our quality time together under the watchful eyes of my senior staff," Janeway explained. "Because of that, I'm not going to react to you tonight as I would if we were truly on a date. I'm sorry, I should have made that clear. Is that all right with you?"

"I understand," Seven said. She relaxed marginally. "It is all right."

Janeway softened her look. "Thank you," she said with honest gratitude. She looked up as the waiter approached, and Seven leaned back as their first course was presented.

It was a soup, chilled and Seven ate it without enthusiasm. Now that she understood what was going on, she was better able to focus on things other than her dining companion, such as the meal which was, so far, unremarkable. She tried to respond alertly to Janeway's questions which were obviously intended to keep the conversational ball rolling, as well as listening attentively to very long and extremely detailed stories about the captain's time at the Academy. As the evening progressed, Seven found that if she was not exactly enjoying herself, then it was at least it was a lesson in diplomatic functions. It occurred to her that the captain was probably expected to sit through many of these in the course of her career, and it behooved her to learn how to behave in such a setting, concentrating on taking her cue from Janeway.

At one point, Janeway smiled. "You look a little bored, Seven," she said.

Seven attempted to straighten. "I do not mean to," she said with dismay.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Janeway assured her. "If we're bored, then imagine how the rest of them are." There was a twinkle in her eye, and Seven found herself smiling faintly at her.

Gradually, they finished the main course, then coffee and dessert was served. When Seven looked around, she saw that most of the crowd had thinned considerably, and of the senior staff, only the Doctor remained, still playing the piano.

"I believe we have outlasted our observers," Seven said.

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "I know," she said wryly. "If only B'Elanna and Tom had realized that by being less enthusiastic, you wouldn't have used them so much as your test subjects."

"They were the easiest beings to study," Seven agreed. "Everything they did was very often quite public, including the sounds of their copulation."

Janeway laughed, probably the first genuine sound she had emoted all night, and Seven was charmed. She listened to the music softly filling the air, recognizing it as the song that had been playing when the Doctor had taught her how to dance.

"Cap ... Kathryn," Seven said. "Would you like to dance?"

Janeway regarded her, a half grin on her face. Her eyes made a quick circuit of the room, checking out how few people were left, then her eyes returned to Seven's, suddenly more blue than grey.

"I think I would like that," she said with a touch of wistfulness.

Suddenly it was as it had been the night before, and Seven's stomach flip-flopped. She stood up, and they strode out to the dance floor, moving into each other's arms. It was completely different than dancing with the Doctor, and Seven could feel Janeway trembling slightly in her arms. She felt suddenly very protective and tightened her embrace a little.

"I like this song," she said after a moment where they swayed together with easy rhythm.

"It's an old song," Janeway related. "It's called Someone To Watch Over Me." She cleared her throat and warbled a few lines:

​

"Won't you tell her please
to put on some speed
Follow my lead
Oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me."

​

Seven, who had perfect pitch, managed not to wince. "I like the melody," she said gamely.

Janeway laughed, and hugged her. "I promise not to sing anymore," she said.

"Thank you," Seven said gratefully, and made the captain laugh again which caused the Borg to feel lightheaded, the sound of Janeway's husky chuckles wrapping around her with a palpable force.

She rested her cheek against the captain's temple, and they continued to dance long after the song was over, and the Doctor ... in sincere heartache unbeknownst to either Seven or the Captain ... had dematerialized, returning his matrix to sickbay. Seven simply closed her eyes and held Janeway, wondering how it was possible to feel this amount of emotion without her cortical implant shutting down from the overload. This must be the belonging and strength that Janeway had described. It most certainly was worth any risk she might take.

Finally, Janeway nuzzled the Borg's cheek. "I think it's time we both regenerated," she said quietly.

Seven held her closer. "I do not wish to leave you," she said. "When does this feeling ease?"

"If we're very fortunate, it never does," Janeway said softly. "However, I think there will be a night when we won't have to leave each other."

"Then we can 'regenerate' together?" Seven asked hopefully.

Janeway smiled. "Something like that," she said.

"I wish it to be now," Seven said firmly.

Janeway did not answer right away, the two continuing to dance, an expression on her face of rueful amusement.

"I don't think it can be tonight, Seven," she said finally, with honest regret.

"Why not?"

Janeway sighed. "A lot of reasons," she said. "I would have to say the primary one is that we shouldn't rush this."

"I want to be with you," Seven said with honest confusion. "Do you not want the same?"

Janeway shook her head. "Yes," she said softly. "I want to be with you, too."

Seven hesitated, considering it. Obviously, there was more here than she could comprehend at the moment. She did not think Janeway would balk at this unless she had a good reason.

"I do not understand," Seven said finally. "However, I shall wait until you are ready."

Janeway lowered her face, attempting to hide a smile, and Seven knew that she had amused her somehow, though she did not know how. When the captain looked back up at her, however, it was with a soft, shy expression, one of aching vulnerability.

"Thank you," she said. "I know this is hard for you, Seven. A lot of it are simply cultural protocols that may or may not have any relevance to us, but I also believe that the better we get to know each other, the better it will be for us on that night that we finally do 'regenerate' together."

"That is not what it is called," Seven corrected her. "However, I do not think 'copulating' is a suitable term for what I wish to share with you either. It is lacking."

Janeway winced a bit. "No, it is not a suitable term," she agreed. She tilted her head. "Let's call it, 'making love'."

"Making love," Seven echoed, tasting the words. "Yes, I like that." She gazed down into those marvelous eyes, a gentle azure at the moment. "I wish to 'make love' to you. Soon."

Janeway reached up, and kissed her gently.

"Soon," she promised.

​

However, it wasn't as soon as even Janeway would wish. One thing after another occupied them; a temporal incursion, the discovery of a deadly weapon, the encounter with the USS Equinox. Sometimes it felt like they barely had time to be friends, let alone escalate their relationship to that of lovers. Yet it was a wonderful time as well; covert glances, brief touches when no one was looking, the rare opportunity to have dinner again in the holodeck, to spend a lunchtime or two in the ready room, and once, to have breakfast in the messhall. On that occasion, the crew ignored them, having long discovered that as titillating as the idea of the captain and the Borg being together was initially, the reality was excruciatingly low key; something that Janeway considered a victory of sorts.

So it was with a bit of surprise that Janeway abruptly found herself with an evening free of all obligations. Better yet, she knew the Borg was off duty as well. The captain quickly cleaned up the rest of her reports, and logged off, trying to look suitably dignified as she made her way through the bridge to the turbolift.

"Deck eight," she said, and forced herself to settle back down on her heels when she realized she was bouncing up and down slightly.

The cargo bay doors eased open with agonizing slowness, and she squeezed through them as soon as the gap was big enough, snorting derisively at herself even as she did so. Seven was working at her console, glancing up as the captain crossed the deck.

"Captain," the Borg greeted.

"'Kathryn', please. I'm off duty," Janeway said, smiling at her. "So are you if I read the crew rotation correctly."

Seven studied her curiously, a faint smile touching her lips. "Is our being off duty simultaneously relevant to anything?" she asked.

Janeway's smile widened. Seven was teasing her, something that the Borg attempted only rarely, and only with the captain. She leaned against the console and offered Seven her best, come hither look.

"If you're not doing anything this evening," she said flirtatiously, "I thought you might be interested in spending some time alone with me."

Seven raised her eyebrow. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I believe that I am," Janeway countered.

Seven regarded her a moment, tilting her head.  "I accept," she said finally, as if there had been some doubt, though the twinkle in her eyes let Janeway know she was being teased yet again.

The captain moved around the console to the waiting embrace, looking up at Seven. "Wonderful," she said gratefully.

Seven kissed her gently, the sweetest of touches on her lips, tender, full of longing, yet patient. So very, very patient, Janeway noted. Perhaps the time for patience was over. After all, Janeway had been the one holding them back, had been the one accommodating a set group of rules that she thought she should be following regarding a romance. Of course, the sheer illogic of those rules were shown to the captain again and again simply by the Borg's nature but resolutely ... some might even say, stubbornly ... Janeway stuck with the cultural norm she had been raised with. First you get to know each other, then you slept together.

Until finally, it occurred to Janeway that she knew Seven far better than anyone else on the ship, and had on some level from the very first moment she had saw her. It was an instinct, a sense that beneath that Borg exterior was an incredibly dynamic, intriguing woman, and every layer Janeway peeled off only verified that initial impression.

"What would you like to do on our date?" Janeway asked, once they had fully familiarized themselves with each other's lips again, after having been deprived for far too long. "This evening is completely up to you."

Seven considered it. "I wish to have dinner in your quarters," she said. "Just as we did on our first date."

Janeway smiled. "Then, that's what we'll do," Janeway promised. She graciously took the arm Seven offered, impressed by the gesture. They left the cargo bay, and the captain surprised herself by not immediately releasing her grip on the Borg's elbow. "Did you have anything particular in mind for dinner? I have all kinds of replicator rations."

"As do I," Seven noted as they entered the turbolift. "What would you enjoy?"

Janeway thought about it. Unlike most people, when Seven asked her to choose, she honestly meant for Janeway to decide. This time Janeway was determined to come up with something that Seven would appreciate, and perhaps even find tasty. Something simple and basic, but very flavorful and light, easy on the stomach. Something that wouldn't get in the way of any physical activity afterward.

Janeway blushed.

Then, tried to hide the fact she was blushing.

"Why are you blushing?" Seven asked, regarding Janeway curiously.

Damn.

Janeway laughed. "I'll tell you later," she promised.

Seven was content with that. The turbolift deposited them onto the deck with the command quarters, and Janeway led her companion to her cabin. Once inside, she offered Seven a drink, and then chimed in with her;

"Synthehol disrupts my cortical function."

Seven looked at her, tilting her head. "You seem unusually playful this evening," she noted.

"Do you object?" Janeway asked as she keyed in commands to the replicator.

"No," Seven said. "I like it. You do not have much opportunity to be playful."

"No, I don't," Janeway admitted. She glanced over her shoulder. "Something else I should thank you for."

Seven considered that. "You are welcome."

Janeway smiled again and took the plates from the replicator, carrying them over to the table. Seven demonstrated how good her memory was by retrieving the utensils from the compartment, and helping her set the table. They sat down, and Seven contemplated her rice and chicken a few moments before tentatively taking a bite. Janeway watched her surreptitiously, gratified when a look of appreciation came over the Borg's face.

So far, so good, she thought.

After dinner, they took their coffee and dessert to the living area where Seven sat on the couch, regarding Janeway curiously as the captain found some candles and scattered them about the room. With a word, the older woman brought the lights down until the room was cozily illuminated by only the flickering flames and the starlight coming through the large hull windows. Another request to the computer filled the room with a low, melodic tune, heavy with strings and a single, solo sax as Janeway shed her tunic, tossing it on the chair, leaving her only in the short sleeved t-shirt and trousers.

"Are you attempting to 'seduce' me?" Seven asked suddenly.

Janeway smiled, quirking an eyebrow at her. "What makes you say that?" she returned dryly, sitting down next to the Borg on the sofa, and picking up her coffee cup.

"The lighting, the music, the ambiance," Seven noted, gesturing with her hand. "Lesson 57, the Art of Seduction. You have changed into 'something more comfortable', and have created an atmosphere designed to 'lower my defenses'."

Janeway grinned crookedly. "Oh dear," she said. "I must have a talk with the Doctor about those lessons."

"These preparations are unnecessary," Seven told her.

"Indeed?"

Seven glanced at her. "Seduction indicates a need for persuasion," she said. "An attempt to 'convince' me to be with you. I need no persuasion." She paused. "I am what is known as 'easy'."

Janeway laughed, choking a bit on her coffee.

"You are many things, my love," she countered warmly once she had caught her breath. "But 'easy' will never be one of them."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "In truth, it is you that has required seduction," she noted with almost scientific precision.

Janeway swallowed another mouthful of coffee, looking at her companion covertly over the rim. "Then why haven't you?" she challenged gently.

Seven considered that. "Lack of opportunity?" she offered tentatively.

Janeway nodded. "Then perhaps tonight's the night," she said slyly.

Seven regarded her evenly, possibly suspecting the captain of teasing her again. "That would be acceptable," she replied with remarkable aplomb.

Janeway made a small sound of humor in her throat, and settled back against the cushions, enjoying the easy banter they had achieved. In a way, that was the best of all, the sense of camaraderie and friendship that had developed once they began dating. She did worry at times that making love would change it, but she was also aware that becoming physically intimate could refine it, make it even more of a partnership. She wanted it to. Every time she saw the young woman, all the nerves in her body seemed to tingle, and the sheer hormonal rush almost knocked her over . She could barely keep her mind on what she was doing at times, and frequently she had looked across the conference room or astrometrics or the bridge, to see the Borg carrying out her duties and imagined what it would be like to release that blond hair from its confinement, bury her face in it. To completely lose herself in the touch and feel of Seven surrounding her.

Giving into the temptation now, she reached over to Seven's head, her fingers working at the clasp holding back the blonde hair, freeing it to fall about the narrow features. Seven remained still, allowing the familiarity, then shook her head slightly so that the hair flowed fully around her face. Janeway's breath caught in her throat and she swallowed, smiling wistfully.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" she asked huskily.

"No," Seven noted precisely. "You have not."

Janeway lowered her head ruefully. That was the other side of the coin to loving a Borg. She never let the captain get away with a thing.

"Well, you are," she said softly.

"Thank you," Seven said. She eyed the captain briefly. "You are beautiful as well." Not as a form of reciprocation, but in the sort of tone that indicated that she had weighted it carefully, and made a very educated decision about it.

Despite herself, Janeway blushed. "You're really doing well with this seduction part," she mumbled.

Seven raised her head slightly. "It is not something I have a great deal of experience with. In truth, I find it somewhat inefficient."

"I'm not much for these games of seduction either," Janeway admitted. "If I want something, generally I go after it directly."

"We are similar in that," Seven allowed. "I find it is a far more expedient manner in which to function."

There was a pause as they regarded each other. "Then are we in agreement that we do not need seduction?" Janeway asked delicately, suddenly finding it a bit hard to breathe.

"We are," Seven said, seeming to move closer.

"And if I asked you to stay the night?"

"I would find that acceptable."

Janeway swallowed. "Then, please," she said with careful enunciation. "Stay the night."

Seven looked at her.

"I will comply."

​

Seven wondered what she was supposed to do now. They had come to the conclusion that approaching the issue indirectly was not what either of them wanted, but now she wasn't sure how one approached it head on. She quirked an eyebrow and studied Janeway, appreciating the way the captain looked in the t-shirt and trousers, slightly mussed, casual, far more approachable than when she had her uniform tunic on. Seven discovered she was staring at the swells rising beneath the thin material, examining how the mounds seemed to be perfectly symmetrical in their unity, and was intrigued when beneath her gaze, a small knot began to form in the center of each. She raised her eyes to meet her companion's even gaze.

"Do you like what you see?" Janeway asked lazily.

"Very much," Seven responded honestly. She did not add that while she wasn't entirely sure why she was responding as she was, just seeing that particular part of Janeway's body made her feel pleasantly odd.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch the body part in question very much.

"May I touch you?" she asked hesitantly, half raising her right hand.

Janeway reached out and grasped Seven's wrist gently, bringing it up to her lips where she kissed the pulse point lightly, sending a tingle along the Borg's arm like an electrical current. "I thought you'd never ask," she said, her voice a husky trill as she then guided the hand to her chest, allowing Seven's palm to rest over her left breast.

Seven was somewhat awed as she held that soft shape in her hand. She could feel the hardness in the center poke into her palm, and she squeezed ever so gently, the protuberance growing even stiffer and more pronounced. She also noted that Janeway's respiration had increased, and that she was arching slightly, pressing her breast into the Borg's hand.

"Do you enjoy that?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, yes," Janeway said in an odd tone. She moved Seven's hand over to the other breast, allowing her to explore that one as well. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly as she studied Seven's face closely.

Seven swallowed. "Apprehensive," she admitted. "The research I did seems inadequate to prepare me for the actual experience. It seemed so much clearer in the data, less clouded with emotional resonances."

"Do you want to stop?" Janeway asked carefully.

"No," Seven replied in a shocked tone. She bent her head, a definite heat touching her cheeks when she realized her response had been somewhat more emphatic than she needed it to be. "I want to touch you everywhere," she added gently. "And I want you to touch me."

Janeway smiled faintly. "That can be arranged," she promised.

She slid closer to Seven, holding the Borg's hand against her breast as she angled her body more toward Seven. "Kiss me," she requested gently.

Seven did so and discovered that squeezing Janeway's breast at the same time added an entirely new dimension to kissing her.

"Gently," Janeway warned softly when Seven grew a little too enthusiastic. "You're much stronger than me, darling. Take your time."

Seven eased her grip immediately, almost to the point of removing it. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she whispered. "I did not mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," the captain assured her. "Just pay attention to my responses, and to your own. I think you can figure out what is and isn't working."

"I shall," Seven promised. She kissed Janeway again and instead of squeezing, she began to gently rub the little knot through the shirt with her fingertips, swirling around it. Janeway made a small sound in her throat, and Seven understood that it was a pleased sound, realizing that the captain liked this much more than the full handed squeeze.

The kisses were different as well, she noted. Janeway's lips pressed against her harder, and her mouth was more open, inviting Seven to explore it fully with her tongue. She felt Janeway's arms entwine themselves around her neck, and an odd sensation spread through her, almost a melting that seemed to center itself between her legs.

She didn't know how long she kissed Kathryn, touching her breasts, alternating between the two bumps, only that she was having the most wonderful time she could ever remember. Finally Janeway pulled her mouth away, breathing harshly.

"Let's go into the bedroom," she said.

Seven was agreeable, standing up immediately and reaching down to pull Janeway off the couch and into her arms. They kissed for a few moments before Seven gradually became aware that Janeway was trying to nudge her backward, attempting to make her move. Having absolutely no luck of course, because Seven massed far more than she did. Seven relaxed and allowed herself to be guided backward, trusting that Janeway would not let her trip over anything as she concentrated on kissing Janeway as thoroughly and completely as possible.

"Oh goodness," Janeway managed between kisses once they were in the bedroom, standing next to the bed. "Why did we wait so long?"

"'We'?" Seven muttered questioningly.

"Oh, be quiet and kiss me again," Janeway responded with a grin.

Seven did, finding this so wonderful, so incredibly engrossing. There was a sensation rising within her, one of anticipation, of happiness and of desire.

"I desire you," she said.

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Janeway murmured in response. She reached up to the back of Seven's neck, fumbling at the clasp there, finally deactivating it. Seven's biometric outfit immediately lost cohesion, becoming loose and baggy, practically falling from the Borg to puddle about her feet.

"Oh my," Janeway said, surprised as she helped Seven step away from the material gathered on the floor. "I didn't know it worked like that. I thought I'd have to peel it off you."

"It is more efficient than yours," Seven noted, trying to get Janeway's shirt over her head.

"Of course it is," Janeway smirked and shook her hair, the various strands alive with static once it was clear of the t-shirt. She quickly removed her bra along with her trousers and underwear, leaving her standing completely nude before the Borg. Seven stood dry mouthed, staring at what she had been touching through the uniform. The captain tilted her head. "You still like what you see?" she asked, suddenly shy.

"I ... you are perfect," Seven whispered.

Janeway blushed, clearly pleased. "Thank you," she said. She stood back, looking over Seven for a moment, giving the Borg's body her complete and utter appraisal. Seven abruptly felt self-conscious, acutely aware of flesh marred by metal implants around her abdomen, around her back, down her leg, all normally hidden by her outfit.

"You," Janeway said quietly, yet firmly, "are absolutely exquisite, my darling."

Seven swallowed hard, feeling the unfamiliar sting of tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

Hesitantly, they moved into each other's arms again and the warm touch of the captain's skin against hers made Seven feel dizzy. Though her implants physically regulated her respiration and heart rate, they could do nothing about the psychosomatic impulses that made her pulse race and her chest feel full. Kathryn was so small, so vulnerable, Seven noted wonderingly, as if removing the uniform took away more than just clothing. Janeway's arms and legs were slender yet wiry, and there was a light dusting of freckles over Janeway's chest and shoulders that the Borg found absolutely charming.

As they kissed, Janeway reached down and flipped the covers away, revealing crisp, Starfleet-issue sheets. She somehow got her knees onto the mattress, never losing contact with Seven's mouth though she was forced to follow as Janeway guided her onto the bed.

As they lay tangled together in warmth and anticipation, Seven found Janeway's breast again and discovered that it was so much better without the intrusion of material between her fingertips and the brownish nipple which was so soft despite its rigidity. She felt the urge to kiss it, and slowly made her way down from the captain's mouth, nuzzling over her chin and down her throat, amazed at the smoothness of skin. When she finally reached the hard little point, letting it slip between her lips, Janeway made a very odd sound, inarticulate yet clearly demanding, urging her lover on. Slowly Seven explored this sensitive bit of flesh, swirling her tongue around it as she had with her fingers earlier, prodding it carefully, then finally, instinctively, sucking on it lightly.

Janeway's hands entangled in the Borg's hair, pulling Seven's head against her insistently. Seven enjoyed this response, appreciating that she was giving the captain great pleasure, and she moved over to the other breast, not wanting to neglect such an obvious source of delight for Janeway. Her right hand was resting on Janeway's stomach, the muscles flexing beneath her palm as she moved her head back and forth, alternating happily between the small breasts. She was intrigued when Janeway abruptly reached down and took the Borg's hand, pushing it over the softly rounded abdomen to below her navel. Guided by the captain, Seven touched the wiry brush of hair, stroking through the curling strands, then down between Janeway's legs as the captain spread them apart, allowing the Borg complete access.

"Seven," Janeway whispered, her voice very unsteady, urgent. "I need you to touch me there now."

"I will, Kathryn," Seven requested quietly. "Show me what you want me to do."

Janeway rested her fingers on top of the Borg's as Seven slipped into the warmth and moisture that awaited her, demonstrating how she wanted to be touched, showing Seven how to dip into the source of the wetness and spread it over the rest of the tender flesh, how to rub her fingertips with just the right amount of pressure and speed over the hard little ridge.

Seven was amazed, her attention torn between her oral stimulation of Kathryn's nipples and her fingers which fondled and caressed this tender, warm, very moist place she had discovered. She concentrated hard on Janeway's responses to her, how she moved her hips to push against her hand, how her chest heaved in an effort to drawn in more air, how she made little sounds deep in her throat, moans and sighs that increased in volume and duration the longer this went on.

Then Janeway's hand was back with the Borg's, urging Seven's fingers down to the opening which seemed to be the wellspring for all this moisture.

"Go inside," she demanded, her breath a sob now.

Seven did, entering Janeway with wonder, probing this wet, very tight area with careful exploration. She remembered a bit of data she had absorbed, a spot supposedly  inside a certain percentage of Human females that when pressed on just so. There, she noted, feeling the wave ripple through Janeway. Intrigued, Seven circled the smooth spot inside with her fingertips, pressing on it rhythmically even as she used her thumb to rasp over that hard little ridge on the outside, pleased to know not all of her research had been futile.

The captain's next reaction caught her off guard, however, the very loud cry ripping from Janeway as if completely involuntary, grabbing Seven's head to hold it to her breasts, burying Seven's face between them and making it impossible for her to breathe. Janeway's entire body surged off the bed as the smooth, slick walls surrounding Seven's fingers began to pulsate with ragged convulsions. Astonished, not quite comprehending what was happening, Seven nonetheless maintained her manipulation, the seconds dragging on until finally, weakly, Janeway grabbed the Borg's hand and drew it away from her, letting go of Seven's head at the same time, allowing her to finally draw air into her lungs once more.

Seven rose up on her elbow, looking down at the captain with dismay, her hair falling into her widened eyes.

"Kathryn," she asked with grave concern. "Are you all right?"

Abruptly, Janeway grabbed Seven, pulling her head down and kissing her so hard Seven thought her lungs would be sucked up from her thoracic cavity. Breathless, shaken, Seven was somewhat relieved when Janeway finally released her.

"God," Janeway husked, holding Seven's face in her hands. "That was incredible."

"Oh," Seven said, mollified to know it was a good thing rather than a bad thing that had caused Janeway to react so—well, frighteningly.

Janeway stared at her as if only now realizing Seven did not know what was going on. Her smile gentled and she reached up, touching the Borg gently on the lips with her own.

"You were wonderful," she murmured against them. "I loved what you did to me."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Your response was unexpected," she admitted.

Janeway laughed. "So was your skill, darling," she countered.

Seven considered that. "Thank you," she said finally.

"No," Janeway corrected. "Thank you."

Seven opened her mouth to respond, realized there was no proper response, and only succeeded in looking confused.

Janeway slid her hand around to the back of Seven's head, pulling her down to her again, gently this time, kissing her softly.

"I love you," she murmured against Seven's lips. "Always."

Seven felt warmth spread through her. "I love you," she said sincerely. This was something more understandable to her, this tender and loving touch. Still, it was curious that whatever she had been anticipating in being able to stay with Kathryn and engage in physical intimacy, this was not exactly what she had imagined. It had definitely been entertaining and enlightening, but she also wondered if there wasn't supposed to be something more. She felt uncertain, restless, not knowing what it was she was supposed to do next.

"Roll over," Janeway said softly.

Seven did so, reclining on her back, thinking that this must be the regeneration part, that now they would 'sleep together'. She was startled when Janeway pressed against her side and began kissing her deeply, her hand sliding gently over her stomach, tracing each metal band of her abdominal implant with insistent tenderness.

"Mm," Seven muttered whenever she managed to free her mouth. "Are we not .. mmph ... supposed to sleep ... ump, now?"

Janeway abruptly stopped what she was doing and drew back, looking down on Seven with bemusement.

"Don't you want to finish making love?" she asked in an odd tone.

"I thought we had," Seven said, completely confused.

Janeway stared at her. "Darling, you haven't been satisfied," she said.

"'Satisfied'?"

Janeway took a deep breath. "I want you to feel the same pleasure I did," she explained gently.

Seven frowned. "You mean, I am expected to cry out and go into spasms as you did?" she asked. In truth, the thought of it was not all that appealing. It seemed very uncontrolled.

Janeway must have read what she was thinking in her eyes.

"I appreciate that it may have appeared a lot less enjoyable than it was," the captain said slowly, a small smile playing about her lips. "But I assure you, it was very pleasurable."

"You went into convulsions," the Borg said plainly. "I though I might have to contact the Doctor."

Janeway bit her bottom lip briefly.

"Don't you still feel something?" she asked tentatively.

Seven tilted her head. "I am uneasy," the Borg allowed. "However, that may simply be from having seen you being 'satisfied'."

"It's called an orgasm," Janeway explained patiently.

"Also known as a climax, pinnacle, consummation, release..." Seven recited readily, then stopped, vaguely frustrated. "But what is it?"

Janeway opened her mouth to respond, stopped, then looked befuddled.

She took a breath. "It's a feeling," she tried. "A moment of intense, physical pleasure."

"A moment?" Seven echoed skeptically.

Janeway firmed her jaw, her eyes growing dark with some suppressed emotion.

"All right," she said in a very even tone. "Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but if you're very fortunate, it can feel like it takes a lot longer than the few seconds it actually does."

Seven was unconvinced. "It seems a great deal of effort for very little return," she said.

"Seven, if you don't want to finish making love, I'm certainly not going to force you," Janeway said carefully. "However, don't you feel like there's something more that you want to do?"

Seven thought about that, about how she was feeling. "Perhaps," she said finally.

Janeway let out her breath slowly.

"Then just lie back and relax," she instructed in a gentler voice. "Let me take care of you, darling."

Seven eyed her uncertainly.

"I will comply," she said.

​

Janeway wasn't exactly sure what she was going to do. At no time in her experience had she ever been with a lover for whom their own orgasm appeared to be a waste of time. Their partner's on occasion, but never their own. Then, there was the fact that Seven was a woman and probably a lot more difficult to satisfy than a man would be.

This is not the time to be worried about that, her little voice noted. Let's just all calm down here. Remember who you're with. That's the important part, not the mechanics of it.

Janeway felt resolve trickle through her. That was the important part, she told herself sternly. Being with the one she loved, and treating them with tenderness and respect. She couldn't look at it as a contest or a task set out before her and if she approached it like that, she'd only cause a disaster. No, this was going to be a time of gentleness, of love, of the absolute caring she felt for this one special person beside her.

She gathered the Borg up in her arms, and starting kissing her; gentle, sweet kisses, intended to relax, not to arouse, yet she was careful not to be too comforting. She didn't want the young woman to fall asleep after all.

"Seven—Annika," Janeway said softly between the long, melting kisses, "may I call you Annika?"

"No," Seven said.

"Seven," Janeway tried again, undaunted. "I want to be with you. You are the most intriguing and amazing person I have ever met. From the first moment I saw you on that Borg cube, I was totally captivated by you."

Seven's voice was surprised yet pleased. "Indeed?"

"Oh yes, my darling," Janeway whispered, nuzzling her gently. "Do you think I sever every Borg I meet from the Collective?"

"Commander Chakotay says that you like picking up strays," Seven said casually. "That I am merely another one."

Abruptly the mood fled as Janeway sat up, looking down at Seven with dismay. "Did he say that to you?" she said, her voice shaking. She was amazed at the fury which swept through her.

"No," Seven said. "I overheard him speaking with Lt. Torres."

Janeway drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, taking a moment to calm herself. She wondered how many casually cruel things Seven had heard since she had come on board, how many things that the captain herself had said without thinking. Sometimes she wondered if humanity was something Seven should be aspiring to after all.

She took a deep breath. "You are not a stray, my darling," she said softly. "You are the person I love."

Seven regarded her, tilting her head slightly. "I was not offended, if that is what disturbs you," she said. "It is irrelevant to me what your reasoning was for severing me from the Collective. It is merely enough to know that you did and now we are together."

Janeway sighed, then lay back down next to Seven, carefully fitting herself to her side, resting her head on the Borg's shoulder and feeling very weary. Suddenly, making love was the last thing on her mind, and  Seven did not object, not having been all that enthusiastic about it in the first place. Seven lay staring up at the ceiling, her left arm wrapped around the captain's shoulders, her right idly stroking Janeway's forearm which was laying on Seven's stomach.

"Seven, I'm sorry," Janeway whispered.

"For what?" Seven asked.

"For tonight. It didn't turn out the way I wanted," the captain admitted.

Seven shook her head slightly. "Being with you is all that matters," she said quietly. "I am so happy that now I do not have to leave you. I can stay."

"Yes," Janeway said, hugging her. "Seven, you can stay with me for as long as you want."

Seven smiled faintly, and kissed the captain on the forehead. "I love you," she said.

Janeway snuggled closer. "I love you too, my darling," she said.

They settled into a comfortable silence, Janeway beginning to nod off, the warmth of the body next to her a soothing presence she hadn't felt in far too long. She jerked herself awake, shifting position a bit, yawning as she glanced at Seven.

"Are you all right," she asked. "Can you sleep?"

"I shall try," Seven said. "In the meantime, I will watch you sleep. Will that disturb you?"

"No," Janeway murmured, her eyes sliding shut as the insistent lure of slumber pulled her down once more. "It will be good to know someone is watching over me."

"I will always watch over you, Kathryn," Seven whispered.

Janeway promptly surrendered to what was probably the deepest, most tranquil sleep she had experienced in the entire five years her ship had been lost, not stirring until an hour before morning watch. At first, she was confused, surprised by the body next to hers, then the memories of the night before returned, and she smiled happily. She carefully rose up onto her elbow, looking down at Seven who, wonder of wonders, was slumbering peacefully, her narrow features smoothed out into a youth and innocence that spoke of the woman she might have been had she never fallen into the hands of the Borg.

Janeway felt incredible tenderness rush through her, the sheer warmth of her love wrapping around her with a sense of contentment that resonated through her to her very bones. Carefully, she leaned down and pressed her mouth over Seven's lips, feeling the woman exhale into her, the warm breath like a healing elixir. She tried not to wake Seven, wanting her return to consciousness to be one of slow ascent into pleasure. She used her fingertips lightly, stroking over the Borg's body, finding the soft nipples that were indeed, the most delectable shade of rosy pink. They hardened beneath her touch, standing out from the areolas which pebbled even as the captain watched.

So far, so good, her little voice noted. Gently, Katie, make love to her, don't lose yourself in your own desire.

Seven made a sound, soft and sweet, a gentle moan and Janeway stopped, waited until the Borg eased back into her sleep before resuming her caresses. She used her lips to gently brush over the full breasts, flicking the tips gently with her tongue, then trailed down over the flat stomach intersected with fine, grey metal bands. The scarred navel she kissed gently, sorrowfully, then down further, to the thin thatch of wry blond hair, nuzzling into it, breathing in the mild fragrance of the woman. She felt a little uncertain. This was unexplored territory to her after all, not only in terms of Seven, but in terms of being with a woman, but she was determined to satisfy her lover, to accord her the same sort of pleasure Seven had granted her.

Cautiously, she eased apart the Borg's legs, positioning herself between them, moving slowly so as not to wake her.  Studying the tender flesh revealed to her, she was mesmerized by this vulnerable area, and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to taste it, to immerse herself in the warmth of Seven completely. She leaned forward and drew her tongue lightly up the crease which, to her gratification, was glistening with moisture, letting her know that Seven was not as detached as she might have thought. The captain parted the puffy lips, thick with desire, sipped from Seven that salt sweet flavor, mild, light, absolute quicksilver on her taste buds.

Seven issued another sound, one of pleasure and her head lolled on the pillow, her hand reached down to touch Janeway's hair.

"Kathryn." A whisper, a breathless cry.

"I'm here, darling," Janeway soothed and returned to her lover, her oral caress stronger now, feeling Seven's hand stroke through her hair, along her cheek, and she increased her exploration, finding the little nodule that was so achingly sensitive, the Borg jerking as Janeway drew it from its pocket, swirled around it, pulled it between her lips as she began to suck on it gently.

Seven responded instantly, undulating, operating purely on instinct, not yet completely awake, a soft keening from her as the sensation began to overcome her, and she tried to pull away. Janeway did not release her, having to pin the Borg's hips down, but continuing her gentle feasting until finally, unmistakably, the young woman was there, every muscle going taut in that perfect instant, the captain driving her through it with loving intensity.

Janeway relaxed along with her lover, and kissed her way back up the lean, lanky body, finally finding Seven's mouth which welcomed her like a homecoming.

Seven shivered in her arms. "It was not a 'little return'," she said wonderingly, once she had caught her breath.

Janeway smiled. "Worth the expenditure of energy?" she teased lightly.

"Yes," Seven said. "I understand now."

"I'm glad," Janeway said, pulling her close, nuzzling the young woman's cheek. "The more we get to know each other physically, the better it will become."

"I look forward to it," Seven noted.

Janeway brushed her lips over the Borg's forehead. "I noticed you slept a little," she said quietly. "Did you appreciate it?"

"Not as much as I do the concept of waking up," Seven replied immediately.

Janeway laughed, finding it hard to believe that she had once thought that Seven had no sense of humor. The truth was, the Borg was very Vulcan-like, just as dry and pointed in her commentary as Tuvok.

Seven glanced over at her. "Did you watch me sleep?" she asked, her voice suddenly wistful, as if unsure that Janeway would have liked it.

Janeway nodded briefly. "Yes," she said. She dipped her head, rubbing her cheek against Seven's temple. "You know, I used to watch you regenerate all the time," she confided. "For months. Every time you came out of your cycle to find me waiting for you, I had already been standing there for ten or twenty minutes, just observing you. It made me feel like we were close in some strange way."

"So even before we were together, you were watching over me?" Seven asked curiously.

"Everyone needs someone to watch over them," Janeway said softly. "I'm glad that I have you to watch over me. I know I want to be the one for you for the rest of our lives."

"You are," Seven murmured. She rolled over a bit, reaching up for a kiss that Janeway was more than glad to bestow. "You always have been."

They held each other tightly as the lights came up to signify morning watch and the start of a new day.

​

Epilogue

​

The Doctor sat alone in the holodeck, touching the keys of the grand piano idly. A check of the computer at 0300 hours revealed that Seven could be found in the Captain's Quarters ... and a second check had her still there at 0600. He had been living on hope, the thin chance that perhaps it wouldn't work out, that perhaps the Captain and Seven would be not be able to find a way to accommodate each other. However, it hadn't happened and now, apparently, the relationship had now been consummated.

He supposed that one day he would be over Seven of Nine, just as he had gotten over Kes, but still he wondered.

Would there ever come a time when someone would watch over him?

​

The End