Unfair Haven

G. L. Dartt

 

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and now astrometrics officer for the Federation starship, USS Voyager, sat quietly in her chair at the large conference table, her hands linked neatly on the flat surface in front of her. The staff meeting was a weekly protocol on the starship, the senior crewmembers discussing what was happening on their vessel as it made its laborious way home to Earth from the Delta Quadrant. A trip which, by last reckoning, still had approximately twenty-five years to go.

Seven, of course, was not really a senior staff member, having joined Voyager only two and a half years earlier, but she was usually included in these meetings, though she rarely commented much beyond technical offerings. Her history of growing up in the Collective, after being assimilated as a six-year-old child and spending eighteen years as a drone, meant that her experience in the day-to-day administration of a Federation starship was fairly limited. However, she was always adding to her store of knowledge, particularly when it came to these puzzling, and sometimes frustrating, Federation individuals, and for some reason, these meetings were particularly interesting to her. She suspected however, that she was the only one that felt that way.

Across the table, the ship's only Delta Quadrant native, Neelix, waved his padd occasionally in emphases as he recited the list of supplies  that the messhall required, apparently unaware that people were not really paying him the attention that the meeting, and innate politeness, demanded. Short, stocky, with golden eyes and spotted skin, the Talaxian resembled a Terran animal known as a 'warthog', but his outgoing and affable personality were as far away from that as possible. Next to him, the Emergency Medical Hologram which served as the ship's Chief Medical Officer, slouched in his chair, his trim, sparse frame seeming boneless in his black and green uniform. Balding, with keen dark eyes, he had affected an air of interest, but Seven could tell by the distance in his gaze that he was actually thinking of something else. That he, in fact, was 'daydreaming'.

Farther down the table, the ship's chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres, the Klingon/Human hybrid, looked far more alert, but Seven knew she was not listening to Neelix either, and suspected that if she glanced under the table, she would see the feisty, dark haired woman playing 'footsie' with the young man across from her. The fair-haired Tom Paris was the ship's helmsman, and from the way he was grinning slightly, the Borg decided that he was probably returning the engineer's surreptitious caress. If Paris's best friend, the handsome, dark-haired Harry Kim was aware of what was going on right next to him, he didn't let on, his eyes fixed firmly in Neelix's direction, though Seven thought he might be 'daydreaming' a bit himself, judging from his glazed expression.

The only one paying close attention to the Talaxian, was the dark-skinned Vulcan, Tuvok, who was seated next to Seven. Of course, that was only because the security chief was not the sort to be distracted with extraneous thoughts, nor was he subject to the same wandering attention that the lower ranked officers were. Lt. Commander Tuvok attended every meeting with the exact same manner, regardless of whether the news was absolutely crucial, or merely the rambling of the ship's cook who finally, mercifully, completed his report and sat down.

At the captain's right hand, Commander Chakotay, the ship's first officer, straightened as if he had been caught by surprise by the abrupt ending to Neelix's recitation, and touched the small padd in front of him. Darkly handsome, with a tribal tattoo arching over his left eye, the burly man cleared his throat and went on to the next order of business.

"Thanks, Neelix," he said. "It's obvious that we need more attention to those ... uh, areas." He glanced at the head of the table. "Captain?"

Seven's pale eyes shifted, along with everyone else's, to the compact figure in the chair beneath the large, bulkhead windows. They loomed over the captain, granting a backdrop of passing stars to highlight the classic features of the elegantly composed woman. Kathryn Janeway shot Chakotay a glance from greyish blue eyes and quirked the fine line of her right eyebrow.

"Agreed," she said calmly, and Seven had a distinct impression that the captain had not necessarily been paying the strictest of attention to her morale officer either. Janeway looked down the table and raised a single, long finger to punctuate her point.

"In fact," she continued, "we could all use a little time to recover further from that wave front, not just the ship and its supplies. I've noticed a distinct tendency for distraction among the crew lately. We'll continue to monitor the surrounding area of space for any suitable planets that might grant the opportunity for a little R&R in the near future." The corner of her mouth turned up slightly at the wide smiles and sounds of approval this remark generated, then raked them all with another indulgent glance. "Now, if no one has anything further to add, you're dismissed."

There was a shuffle of chairs and bodies as the staff rose to their feet in preparation of returning to duty. Through the noise, the quiet, commanding "Seven, a moment, please," from the captain stopped Seven in her intent to leave, and she waited obediently as the rest of the people vacated the room, leaving her alone with Janeway.

"Captain?" she responded politely, linking her hands behind her back as she regarded the dynamic woman who got out of her chair and came around the table to lean casually against the edge next to Seven.

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in a Velocity match," Janeway asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now that Tom's Fair Haven program is undergoing repairs and restoration, both holodecks are free again."

"I am unable to comply," Seven responded. "I will be occupied."

Janeway's eyes narrowed slightly. "I didn't give you a time," she said with deceptive mildness, her laser gaze searching Seven's face. "How do you know you'll be occupied when you don't know when I wish to play?"

Caught, Seven felt heat dust lightly over her cheeks and she knew that the resulting rosiness had to further tip off the captain that she was not being entirely truthful. Suddenly, she wished to be anywhere, but in this conference room right now, particularly with this woman.

"Nonetheless," Seven offered lamely, "I shall be occupied."

Janeway inhaled and looked down briefly, her expression slightly exasperated, before she once again raised her eyes to meet Seven's pale blue gaze. "Seven, this is the fourth request from me that you've either refused or avoided in the past couple of days," she said. "I just wanted to catch up with you, but obviously, I've done something to offend you somehow. Would you mind telling me what?"

"You have not offended me, Captain," Seven replied honestly.

"Then what is this about?" Janeway asked gently. "Why don't you want to spend time with me? I thought we were friends."

"We are not friends, Captain," Seven said.

That startled the captain, Seven saw, as well as dismayed her.  A trace of what Seven thought might be 'hurt' actually ghosted across the classic features, and Seven regretted that profoundly. She had honestly not intended to offend the captain, who had been directly responsible for Seven being severed from the Collective, and had acted as both her mentor and guide during her time on Voyager.

Janeway hesitated, seeming to search for words. "I'm surprised, Seven," she said. "I've always considered us to be friends."

Seven stifled a sigh, not really wanting to get into this conversation at the moment, but realizing that it could no longer be avoided, either. She organized her thoughts, wanting to say this correctly the first time so it would not have to go on any longer than necessary.

"Captain, I agree that you and I are 'amiable acquaintances'," the Borg explained. "However, as I have continued to evolve toward humanity, I have come to define certain terms more precisely than I did when I was first severed from the Collective. 'Friend', is one of them."

Janeway looked vaguely confused. "I see," she allowed. "Perhaps you should define what you think a 'friend' is, just so I'm clear on it as well."

"A friend is an individual with whom one has a definite emotional attachment to," Seven said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable to have to be explaining what should be evident to Janeway. "A friend is someone a person enjoys spending a lot of time with and is appreciated for being who they are. A friend is someone who can be confided in. A friend is someone with whom one can share one's thoughts and be there no matter what is required."

Janeway nodded slowly. "I think we fit that definition, Seven," she said, regarding Seven uncertainly.

Seven felt sadness nibble away at her Borg composure. "No, Captain," she said gently. "We do not." She paused. "Perhaps if I further define it as to what a friend is not."

"Proceed," Janeway said, and it seemed that she had become very focused on Seven, as if trying to decipher her meaning from something more than words. But words, Seven thought, was all she had.

"Captain, a friend does not cancel appointments to meet just because one is otherwise occupied, particularly long after the original time of the appointment, as has happened on two occasions," she said. "A friend does not ignore someone for a significant period of time, then suddenly decide that she is ready to be friends again, at her convenience."

Janeway closed her eyes briefly, looking regretful. "So that's what this is all about," she said, ruefully. "I suppose I deserve the reprimand. You're right, Seven, those are not the actions of a 'friend' and certainly I've be guilty of them several times over the past couple of weeks." She paused, and altered her tone. "However, a friend also understands when certain priorities have to be met, and that one can't always do everything they want at any given time."

"I fully understand what your priorities have been, Captain," Seven said, and this time, more than sadness drifted through her heart. There was a certain amount of grief there as well. She faltered, then forced herself to go on. "I was present when the holo-character of Michael Sullivan instigated a physical altercation with the members of the crew, and I am fully cognizant of why that occurred. I am aware of what exactly has been occupying your complete attention for the past few weeks, after your duty to the ship and the crew have been met. I am, obviously an unnecessary part of your social existence, of far less importance than the entertainment provided by a holoprogram."

She glanced at Janeway and saw that she was flushing furiously, unable to meet the Borg's gaze. Seven did not want to prolong this any longer than it needed to be, so she continued before she lost her nerve.

"I appreciate that the social time you have spent with me in the past is not as enjoyable as the social time you spend with a device," she said, with a certain amount of difficulty. "I have concluded that such interaction was possibly a form of obligation on your part, that you perhaps even had some lingering sense of responsibility about my joining your crew and wanted to help me 'fit in'." She swallowed, finding it suddenly painful for some reason. "However I have decided that while I may have found that reasoning acceptable in the beginning, the thought that you only spend social time with me because of 'obligation' or 'responsibility' is no longer acceptable. In fact, I believe it is distasteful, and would rather not engage in such interaction any longer."

"Seven," Janeway started, then stopped, looking distinctly unhappy and distressed. "I guess that I can understand how you might reach such a conclusion, based on the data you've received lately. Certainly, it seems that I owe you an apology."

Seven bent her head. "Captain, you are not required to justify your actions to me," she said. "I am your crewmember, your subordinate, not your peer."

"You are my friend," Janeway insisted, then seemed to need a moment to compose herself. "We have a bond that I simply don't share with anyone else in my crew."

"A bond which runs only one way, however," Seven remarked evenly. "You offer me friendship, but I am not accepted as your friend and from my observation, I do not believe that you truly have any friends at all, despite how you refer to the various people around you. Indeed, only Chakotay is allowed to call you by your given designation, but that seems more a privilege of his rank as first officer, rather than because you have allowed him that out of friendship." She paused. "It is ironic. Since I have come on board Voyager, 'being human' has been held up to me as the ideal I must ascribe to, and I have looked to you to be my guide in this. As I develop further along this path, however, I discover that all the elements which are purportedly to be included in 'being human' are not anything that you allow for yourself. You keep yourself apart from any true emotional ties to the people around you, and perhaps only with a holo-character that you have programmed to love you, can you truly 'be human'."

Janeway held up a hand, obviously requiring a bit of time to assimilate this one, walking away from Seven for a moment. It was obvious that Seven had rocked the captain considerably with her words and Janeway refused to look back at her, coming to a stop before the windows where she stared out at the stars with an incredibly bleak look on her face.

"Captain," Seven ventured finally, after a several long moments of awkward silence. "I must report to astrometrics."

Janeway inhaled slowly.

"Of course," she agreed in an oddly dead tone. "You're dismissed, Seven."

Feeling more wretched than she had ever felt before, Seven left the conference room, knowing she had hurt the captain deeply, despite the fact, that it was absolutely the last thing she had wanted to do with this woman for whom she had developed such complicated feelings. But what else could she have done, but offer her honest opinion when Janeway had asked for it?

Lying was simply not a Borg trait.

Janeway strolled briskly across the bridge from the conference room and headed for the sanctuary waiting for her on the other side.

"I'll be in my ready room," she said in what she hoped was a perfectly even tone, passing quickly through the command level and descending the short flight of stairs leading into her private sanctum. She skirted the desk and took a seat, discovering only after she had sat down, that Chakotay had followed her and was now standing before her with an inquiring expression on his face.

"I thought I gave you the bridge," she said shortly, in a tone that would warn off a hungry grizzly bear fresh from hibernation.

"No, you just said you'd be in your ready room," he replied glibly, ignoring the tone and lowering his bulk into the chair opposite her. "Tuvok has the bridge. Are you going to tell me what Seven's done now?"

Janeway flinched. "What makes you think she's done anything," she responded icily.

"The fact that you just flinched," he pointed out calmly. "The fact that you had her stay behind after the staff meeting. Ten minutes ago, she came out of the conference room, looking like someone had just killed her puppy. Now you come out of there, looking like the puppy in question. What's going on?"

Janeway tried to work herself up into a flaming bout of outrage, but it sputtered and died quickly and all she was left with was this very tired, very sick feeling. She took several deep breaths, acutely aware of her first officer's compassionate eyes observing her quietly.

"Are we friends?" she asked finally.

He started to answer, almost as if in automatic response, then took time to think about it seriously, sensing somehow that it was not an idle question.

"I'd prefer to think that we are," he said cautiously, after a moment.

She offered him a pained expression. "So it's not a yes or no question?" she said wryly.

He returned the bitter grin with a much gentler smile. "I guess it depends on one's definition of a friend," he said.

"Yes," she said flatly. "I just had that discussion with Seven regarding the proper definition of the term. Apparently, I have been found considerably lacking."

"She's upset about something you did?" he prompted helpfully.

Janeway hesitated, reluctant to discuss it, but he was here and he was supposed to be her friend. Hadn't she called him that countless times? Was she really not prepared to acknowledge what that meant?

"When I participated in Fair Haven, particularly the three days when I was constantly indisposed, I had to cancel a couple of previously scheduled Velocity matches with Seven," the captain admitted finally. "Honestly, I really didn't think it mattered, especially since both holodecks were in use, and well, frankly, I had other things on my mind. Then a few days after the fact, I remembered that we also had plans to discuss certain things that were probably pretty important to her. I didn't even give her the courtesy of calling to cancel them."

"This hurt her feelings," he guessed.

She hesitated, searching herself for the truth. "Not at the time," she admitted. "I don't think it bothered her to have something else come up. It does quite often with us, because I'm the captain and she knows that. Then, she discovered exactly what the 'something else' was, however, and decided that she deserved better than to be shoved aside for such a reason, which honestly, she does."

Chakotay hesitated, then offered a tentative smile. "Your holo ... uh, involvement, you mean."

Janeway covered her face with her hands. "God, we can't even say it, can we?" she said. "I had a romantic liaison with a holo-character."

"You're hardly the first person to get involved with the holodeck," he noted. "Frankly, that is what the things were truly designed for in the first place."

"Tension relievers," Janeway stated flatly.

"For lack of a better term," Chakotay agreed. "Certainly, neglecting other things in the first throes of..." he faltered briefly.

"Passion," she said. "Lust?" She removed her hands and regarded her first officer. "I've never been impressed with women ... with girls ... who neglect their friends whenever a new male enters their life," she said flatly. "As if raging hormones are supposedly more important than a good, solid friendship and worse, 'friends' are just supposed to understand when those things happen, no matter how advanced we like to claim we've become. Yet, here I am. I suppose the saddest thing about it is that I can't even claim that I was blowing Seven off because of an actual love affair. I was occupied with a damned holo-character!"

"You felt what you felt, Kathryn," he offered. "You can't help that, and I don't think anyone blames you for it. Not even Seven once she understands what prompted it."

"What I feel," Janeway corrected without thinking, then was absolutely horrified by what had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Chakotay's eyebrow rose a little and the tattoo crinkled accordingly. "I see," he said slowly. He paused. "I'm sorry, Captain, I was under the impression that this was a little more casual than that."

"I know," she said. "Everyone thinks that. Only the Doctor is aware that it became more serious than I intended." She groaned. "God, even I can't believe it. It's insane."

He searched for the proper words. "Well, maybe it's to be expected," he allowed reasonably. "You've been restraining certain natural impulses for a long time. Once you decided to give into them, it's not surprising that they were a bit stronger than anticipated."

Janeway inhaled sharply. She was humiliated, yet, she was unable to keep from talking about it. "The Doctor thinks that I should pursue the relationship," she said. "That it's my only option in the Delta Quadrant other than passing encounters with aliens. I can't involve myself with anyone on the ship. It would go against every established protocol."

He looked surprised, then thoughtful, but he didn't say anything.

"Funny, I thought you'd disagree with him," Janeway remarked dryly.

Chakotay sighed. "I do, but maybe not the way you might think," he said. He paused. "You should pursue it."

She stared at him, honestly surprised by his response. "Why?" she said. She swallowed, hard. "It's a holo-romance. I know it has no future, no matter how much I change the program or him, or even if I don't change it. Michael is a perfect match for me, but that's because I've made him that way. Hell, he only loves me because that's what I've modified him to do. Every time I think about this, I'm appalled."

"I know," he said compassionately. "That's the thing with holo-romances. In the end, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you delude yourself, the futility always becomes apparent."

"Then why..." she began.

"Because, while your head knows this," Chakotay pointed out easily, "Your heart doesn't. All the common sense in the universe can't convince it It needs a purely emotional resolution to it. Somehow, the Doctor knows that. If you force yourself away without letting the relationship run its natural course, without allowing it to reach its eventual and inevitable conclusion, then you're just going to make yourself crazy obsessing over it. At least, with the Doctor's prescription, you'll get over it a lot quicker and have a little bit of fun in the process."

"Why does that make sense?" she said uneasily. "Or do I just want it to?"

Chakotay grinned, relaxing back in his seat. "Kathryn, follow your heart for a change," he said. "Eventually, it will figure out what your head already knows, and they won't be in conflict with each other, as I suspect that they are right now."

Janeway shook her head. "I would like to believe you're right," she said. "But what if ..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"The emotion doesn't go away?" he suggested.

"Yes."

"Do you consider yourself to be the sort of person who could settle for something like a holo-character for very long?" he responded quietly and logically. "No matter how advanced you make it? No matter how much you let yourself believe?"

She shook her head. "Put that way, no, I don't," she said. She sighed. "However, in the meantime, I'm making a complete fool of myself, and inadvertently hurting others."

"Which brings us back to Seven," Chakotay guessed, and a bit of an odd expression crossed his face. "It always seems to come back to her."

"She's right," Janeway said painfully. "We're not friends. I don't have any real friends. Not even you, Chakotay, as close as we are. We can't be, because of who I am and the rank I uphold."

"Ah, now there's the part where I don't agree with you or the Doctor at all," Chakotay said easily. "This whole idea of not being able to get emotionally involved with a member of the crew. That's just a flat out stupid idea here in the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway was shocked. "But..." she began.

"No, hear me out, Kathryn," he said, holding up his hand. "First off, I've always thought that the whole concept was nothing more than a handy excuse for various captains not to tackle the inconvenience of a ship-board romance, or more importantly, conduct themselves maturely in their relationships. Ultimately, I think it's the coward's way out, hiding behind rank just because sometimes emotional ties get a bit complicated."

"But the problems inherent in a shipboard relationship..." Janeway began hotly.

"Are no different than any relationship off the ship," Chakotay interrupted rudely. "Unless there is an ulterior motive on someone's part, which would exist regardless of rank. The only real difference from any romantic relationship is that when you're both on the same ship, you can't run away when the going gets tough. I mean, let's face it, most captains ... most single Starfleet officers ... aren't married because they can't be bothered, not because they don't have the opportunity. If they do marry, they leave the spouse behind in their home port or on another vessel so they don't have to deal with the day-to-day demands that a really solid and mature relationship requires. It's just easier and anything else, all the talk of protocols and potential problems with the rest of the crew, are just avoiding the real issue. Of course, considering our situation, you might as well just throw the whole concept out anyway, because who really cares who's involved with whom as long as the person is happy?"

Janeway was at a loss for words. "I never knew you felt like that," she managed finally.

"I always have," he said, shrugging. "I never brought it up because—well, it might have been sounded a little self-serving on my part." He flashed her a grin so she'd have no confusion about what he really meant. "After all we've been through, however, I don't think it's a problem for me to bring it up anymore. After all, I don't think it's me who's suddenly made you so lonely that you ended up in the holodeck of all places."

Janeway couldn't stop her reaction at that, flinching involuntarily.

"What?" she said, her tone lowering by several degrees.

He paused, as if thinking that he had revealed a little more than he had intended, then he exhaled audibly, shrugging lightly.

"Kathryn, I've known you for six years," he said, his eyes honest and intent as he sought out her gaze. "You just don't suddenly 'fall in love at first sight'." He took another deep breath. "That's not you. You're much more under control than that. What I do think is that you were already feeling things that you didn't want to recognize consciously, and have been feeling them for some time. Now, suddenly, here was this harmless, easy way to indulge in them with a good-looking Irish bartender who just happened to fit your 'type' of past attractions. You seized upon it as something you could comfortably do without any real complications beyond a little mild embarrassment."

"What?" Janeway knew she was repeating herself. She just couldn't come up with anything that sounded more intelligent.

He linked his fingers over his stomach. "You have every right to tell me to shut up, Kathryn," he said calmly. "If I'm right, however, the feelings aren't going to go away, because the real person ... the real attraction ... is still going to be here after you've exhausted every possibility with Michael."

"You're wrong," she said, staring at him as if he were an unexploded, but primed photon torpedo which had just landed on her desk. "You're just absolutely wrong."

"Maybe I am," he agreed. He eyed her narrowly. "Somehow, I don't think so."

She glared at him. "Just who is this unidentified someone?" she said scornfully. "So unidentified that even I don't know who it is?"

He was not cowed, keeping his eyes pinned on hers. "I suspect you know, if you'd only let yourself think about it," he said, then paused, his face firming with determination. "I'll tell you something else, Kathryn. It'll be really easy for you to use this Michael as an excuse not to try. The same way you used Mark for the first four years we were out here in the Delta Quadrant. The perfect, absent lover who can't be with you, but creates a nice buffer between you and any real relationship that might be offered, a neat little reason to keep you from discovering what really might be possible. That's your choice, of course, but always be aware that it's your doing ... not Starfleet protocol, not some doomed affair ...but you who's too afraid to take a real chance on something that might be messy and confusing and frightening and far from perfect, but also might be everything you could have ever wanted or needed in your life."

He got up and without waiting to be dismissed, left the ready room, leaving Janeway speechless with fury and the burgeoning fear that maybe ... just maybe ... he might be right.

Seven of Nine worked quietly in cargo bay two where her Borg alcoves were maintained, feeling the need for regeneration but refusing to step onto the dais. She was not normally subject to aberrant mental visions as she regenerated, but lately, the 'dreams' as they were called, had been disturbing her greatly with both intensity and duration. She hoped that if she could delay the onset of her regeneration for as long as possible, perhaps she would require such a deep level of restoration, it would not be possible to remember the dreams once she had completed the cycle.

The large doors to the cargo bay slid open and Seven looked up, surprised and uneasy when she saw the captain enter. Janeway seemed to hesitate when she saw Seven, then straightened her shoulders and moved toward her.

"It's late, Seven," she said quietly when she reached the work console. "You should be regenerating."

"Yes, Captain," Seven said obligingly and wondered why, if Janeway had expected her to be regenerating, she had bothered to come down to the cargo bay in the first place? "Can I assist you?"

Janeway didn't respond right away, watching Seven quietly.

"I'm sorry," she said finally.

Seven frowned. "Captain?"

Janeway inhaled deeply and glanced around the dimly lit, cavernous area as if unable to look directly at Seven for too long and the Borg was suitably confused.

"You were right about my not letting you close enough to truly be my friend," Janeway said finally, and there was a certain huskiness in her voice that made Seven feel odd. "I haven't let anyone get close enough to me in the past six years to be a real friend, but your company was never an obligation to me, Seven, nor did my wanting to spend time with you ever spring from some sense of responsibility. I've truly enjoyed every moment we've spent together in the past two and a half years." Finally, the stormy grey eyes met Seven's and the Borg was surprised to see moisture glistening in them. "I just wanted you to know that."

Seven felt an unnatural ache in her chest. "Captain," she said, and ironically, it seemed her voice was slightly unsteady as well. "I do want to be your friend. In the beginning, I actually felt that I was on some level. It is only in recent times that I have felt that I was inadequate."

Janeway took a step closer. "Seven, you were never inadequate," she said. She swallowed and regret made her expression vulnerable. "If someone refuses to accept what you give so generously, that does not lessen the preciousness of what you offered, it just means the person refusing it is ... or was ... a damned fool."

"I appreciate why you could not accept it," Seven argued mildly. "Being captain creates a certain distance between you and everyone else on the ship." She paused. "Everyone but..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"But those who don't really exist," Janeway finished for her, bitterness coloring her tone. She sighed and raked her fingers through her rich, auburn hair. "Damn."

She moved over to the dais and sat down wearily, staring blankly into the darkness. Seven hesitated, then moved over and carefully sat down next to the captain. For several moments, they both simply sat there, not speaking.

Finally, Seven dared to interrupt that silence. "I have been considering everything, since this morning and our conversation," she said tentatively. "I have concluded that I was unfair in my assessment of your relationship with me. After comparing it with others in the crew, I have determined that I am actually one of the few people on board that you socialize with. So perhaps you were accurate within whatever definition you have, when you said we were friends."

Janeway smiled faintly. "You always attempt to grant me some sort of absolution," she said quietly. "Even when I don't deserve it, even when you were the one who pointed out the error of my ways in the first place." She paused. "Why did my spending time in Fair Haven cause you to question what we share?"

Seven considered it, finding her thoughts progressing along most uncomfortable lines, but unable to deny where they were taking her, or what they might mean. She also knew she could not lie about it.

"I was disturbed by Michael Sullivan," she admitted. She bent her head, staring at the floor. "He seemed unworthy of you, but I did not feel I had the right to tell you. That led me to understand how I could not really be considered your friend. A true friend could tell you when you are making an error in settling for less than perfection."

Janeway laughed, a small bark that did not seem particularly amused.

"But he was perfect for me, Seven," she said dryly. "I modified his programming myself."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Then your definition of 'perfect' is in error," she stated. She glanced over at the captain, looking at her surreptitiously through her lashes.

Janeway turned her head and met the gaze, her eyebrow quirked inquiringly. "Then, by all means, give me your definition of 'perfect'."

Seven examined the mesh on her left hand idly. "It would be a person who you would love in addition to any flaws," she said. "Someone who would love you with all of yours, and accept who you were from the beginning as you would accept them. Appearance, similar interests, and shared goals before the fact would be irrelevant because you would create your own common ground together, with both beings contributing to the dynamic. You would not love this person because you could change them, but because this individual would refuse to change who they essentially were, which is what initially attracted you. You and this person would occasionally disagree, but never lose respect for the other's right to their opinion. You both would find a way to be entertained by things one would never expect to be entertained by. It would be someone you could work with, live with, socialize with, and yet, still be independent from."

Janeway considered it. "That's quite a list," she said. "A contradictory and illogical list, as a matter of fact."

Seven nodded. "As a real human is," she said. She looked at her again. "As you are. As I am becoming."

Janeway's smile widened. "I guess I deserved that one," she said. She scuffed her feet on the metal mesh which made up the deck. "The Doctor believes that I should pursue this relationship with Michael until I get it out of my system."

Seven nodded, not wanting to admit to herself how discomforted that made her.  Nor did she want to risk speaking in the event she revealed more than she was ready to.

"Chakotay," the captain continued, "on the other hand, believes that I am actually interested in someone in the crew, and that I'm trying to divert that interest in a futile relationship with a holo-character."

Seven was startled by this revelation, and even more so as she realized what was happening. Janeway was confiding in her in a way that she had never confided in her before. Exactly as a close, intimate friend would. It made Seven feel somewhat odd,  happy yet apprehensive at being accorded such a trust. She wondered if she was prepared to uphold such an honor.

"What do you believe?" Seven asked.

Janeway leaned back on her elbows, her chin resting on her chest. "I think it has become far more complicated than what I intended when I started the whole thing," she said ruefully.

Seven smiled briefly. "As I turned out to be," she said. She glanced back at Janeway, noting that she looked startled. "A small joke, Captain," she said. "Friends tell jokes to each other, correct?"

Janeway's face suddenly became soft and vulnerable again. "They do," she said. "Do you tell jokes to anyone else?"

"The Doctor," Seven admitted. "He does not always find them amusing, particularly when he is attempting to tutor me in human behavior. It distracts him."

Janeway smiled. "His taste in humor is somewhat lacking," she said. "His taste in pupils is excellent, however."

Seven wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she did know it made her feel very warm inside at such a response.

"Captain, what do you want to do?" she asked.

Janeway was silent for a few moments. "A part of me wants to play it out to its conclusion," she admitted finally. "For my own peace of mind. The other part of me, however, just wants to forget the whole thing ever happened."

"Curious," Seven remarked.

"Well, that's one word for it," Janeway agreed. She nudged Seven with her booted foot. "What would you do?"

"I cannot imagine finding myself in such a position," Seven noted honestly, and from the captain's pained laugh, realized she had somehow inadvertently 'teased' Janeway again so she attempted to elaborate. "Do you remember when I explored the concept of 'dating'?"

"I do," Janeway said, and there was a bit of an odd inflection in her tone, as if she considered the reference unpleasant in some way. Seven didn't know why since the captain had not even been on the ship for most of the Borg's exploration. Perhaps something had happened on the planet she had visited, and it cast a negative connotation to remembering that time period.

"At one point, I found that I was considering the Doctor as a viable option for a romantic relationship," she said.

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" she said. "I didn't know that."

She didn't sound pleased by it either.

"But then, there was the incident with Mr. Paris and I discovered that the Doctor was 'flawed' in a way that I could not accept," Seven said. "It did not change my feelings toward him as my friend and mentor, but it did when it came to the possibility of dating him." She paused. "I believe that if my romantic interest in him had been sincere rather than superficial, the flaw would not have deterred me. Obviously it was not sincere." She took a deep breath and said the hardest thing that she had ever said in her life. "Perhaps you should attempt the scenario again, restoring all the characters flaws you modified out of the character over time. If your feelings persist, then they are real. If not, then perhaps that would be enough for you to be comfortable with leaving it behind."

Janeway didn't answer right away, and the pause seemed to stretch on interminably. Then she sat up again and rested her hand on Seven's shoulder.

"That's good advice," she said in a gentle voice. "Probably the best I've received in all this." She smiled warmly at the young Borg. "You know, I think people underestimate you, myself included."

"Will you run the scenario again?" Seven asked.

Janeway inhaled slowly. "I don't know," she said. She flashed her a glance with eyes more blue than grey. "Maybe I should try real life for a while, see how that goes." She raised her head. "Would you like to get together for Velocity tomorrow?"

Seven lifted a corner of her mouth. "I believe I will not be occupied," she said.

Janeway nodded. "I'll schedule the holodeck time," she said.

Another pause, time passing unnoticed as the two women stared at each other and Seven thought the captain was becoming a little pale. She wondered what was crossing the captain's mind at that moment? "Captain?" she queried.

"You should probably regenerate," Janeway said. "We both have duty tomorrow."

"I think so as well," Seven said. She dipped her head. "You should sleep."

"Probably some good advice, too," Janeway admitted. She leaned forward, attempting to get to her feet and Seven assisted her, putting a hand under the captain's elbow to help boost her off the dais into an upright position. "Thanks."

Seven hesitated. "You are welcome," she said.

She waited and still the captain lingered.

"Did you want to 'tuck me in'?" Seven asked innocently.

Janeway's face went a faint pink, and Seven wondered what she had said to embarrass the captain, because that was usually what such coloration indicated.

"Tuck you in?" Janeway repeated, her voice rising a bit oddly.

"As you did after we escaped from the Borg Queen," Seven explained. "When you activated the regeneration cycle for me."

"Oh, of course," Janeway said. "Yes, I'd like that."

Seven obediently stepped back up onto the dais and positioned herself between the braces, setting herself against the energy plate. Janeway stepped up beside her and rested her hands on the controls.

"Pleasant dreams, Seven," she said softly.

"Thank you, Captain," the Borg responded. "Good night."

Janeway tilted her head, her face soft and vulnerable. "Seven, when we're off duty like this?" she instructed quietly. "Call me Kathryn."

Seven felt a smile spread across her face, unfamiliar to the muscles there, but making her feel warm and happy all the way through, then Janeway's fingers were moving over the controls and the regeneration cycle began.

There were no aberrant mental images at all for Seven that night, or if there were, they were pleasant indeed.

Epilogue

​

Janeway didn't know how long she stood and watched the young woman regenerate. All she knew was that it certainly wasn't the first time she had done it, nor, she suspected, would it be the last. It had been the encounter with the Borg Queen, she thought uneasily. That was when it had all started and after that, the feelings inside her had just grown stronger with each, passing day. Attempting to divert them into something else hadn't worked at all, and there was now a part of her that regretted bitterly that she had given herself to the hologram, though at the time, it had seemed like a reasonable, and even a pleasant idea.

She shook her head and forced herself to leave the cargo bay. What had possessed her to think that what she was feeling had actually been love for a hologram instead of what it truly had been? Was she really capable of that much self-delusion? Apparently so, but she had believed in her heart that she could not pursue Seven because of their respective roles on the ship, and maybe subconsciously, she had hoped that by pursuing another futile relationship in the holodeck, the truly desired affair would be purged from her system. Had she really been talking about Michael when she had been telling the Doctor how impossible it was for her to be in love? She had believed so at the time. Now she had the uncomfortable feeling that she wouldn't be able to deceive herself any longer. Now, she knew where the feelings were really being generated, and a purely physical attraction to a holo-character had only managed to confuse the issue.

The worst part, she decided, was that Chakotay had turned out to be absolutely right about what she had been going through. The thought was insufferable and she wondered how she would go about keeping the information from him. He would never let her live it down ... particularly once she started taking the chance on a very real relationship, just as he had suggested.

She entered the turbolift, and spent the trip to deck three and her quarters gently banging her head against the bulkhead until it felt good enough to stop.

​

The End