Summary: When a captivating alien falls for Seven, Janeway has to decide between her command and her happiness. A first time story.

Rating: PG-13 for semi-graphic lesbian sexual situations

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek, all royalties gleaned thereof, and I am but an insignificant drone in the scheme of things. No copyright infringement is intended. Please don’t sever me from the collective for borrowing these characters for a bit of fun.

 

Isharan

By Ensign Mika

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the U.S.S. Starship Voyager paced the length of her ready room like an agitated tiger, mentally scrambling for a solution to the mess she had created. Her hands shook visibly, her complexion had gone ghostly white, and her temples throbbed with anxiety. Seven of Nine had submitted her resignation, had decided to leave Voyager, and Janeway could think of no justification to forbid it, and no means to dissuade her.

She hadn’t slept in days, trying to come up with some sort of logical and persuasive argument that might make Seven change her mind. Now, here she was, five minutes from the appointment with the former Borg drone, and she had come up with nothing. Somehow, in her arrogance, Janeway had never considered that Seven would leave. Janeway couldn’t blame her though. Life aboard Voyager was lonely when everyone kept you at arms length for fear of being assimilated.

Several weeks before discovering Yamal, the class M planet around which they now orbited, and upon which Seven intended to live, Seven had come to her, at Janeway’s request, to discuss what had been Seven’s disastrous first attempt at dating. Seven had informed the Captain that there were no suitable mates for her aboard Voyager. Janeway had been more than a little relieved to hear that. The idea of some clumsy brute pawing at the innocent, angelic Borg made Janeway seethe with anger. Janeway knew it was more than protectiveness that stoked her fury, but she was not going to look too closely at her motives.

It had been just over ten days ago that Seven had admitted to Janeway that her assessment of the situation hadn’t been entirely accurate. Janeway had invited Seven to dinner, and over a nightcap, Seven had timidly informed the good Captain that, in fact, there was one individual aboard Voyager who would make a suitable mate, according to the computer program Seven had designed. Blindly, Janeway had walked right into that one, assuming it was anyone but herself.

"Seven, that’s great!" she had said with all the enthusiasm she could muster. "May I ask who?"

Seven had smiled shyly, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, looking for all the world like a vision of all that is pure and beautiful. "You may not like the answer, Captain. But the only suitable party aboard Voyager is you."

Janeway’s heart had seized in her chest momentarily, but then relaxed as it dawned on her that Seven was approaching searching for a mate as if scientific methodology applied to love. "You know, Seven, being compatible isn’t all there is to it."

Seven smirked. "I am aware of that. However, in this case, it is fortunate that the person I am compatible with is also the person I am in love with."

Janeway’s chest tightened again. She was simultaneously flooded with desire, joy, regret, and pain. Her head fairly swam with the impact of those words, only to dissolve into cold, hard reality. Captains do not date their subordinates.

"Seven," she had said when she recovered her voice, "I am flattered, but it can never be. I can’t."

Seven’s face registered no emotion, but her eyes showed the disappointment and hurt. She had expected as much, but had still hoped for more. "Would it not be more accurate to say that you can, but that you will not?" Seven pointed out.

Janeway ground her teeth at that. "It would be a breach of ethics and protocol. Therefore I cannot." She threw back the last of the whiskey and soda she had been nursing.

Seven considered that response, lowering her eyes and sinking further into the couch cushions. "May I ask you a personal question?" Janeway shrugged, and Seven took that as an affirmative response. "Do you have romantic feelings for me?"

Janeway had blushed from her neck to her elegant cheekbones at that. "I’m not going to answer that Seven. As you would say, it is irrelevant."

"It is not irrelevant to me," Seven said softly, taking Janeway’s hand in her own.

Janeway fought to repress her emotions. In fact, she loved the Borg woman with all her heart. But she could not give her false hope by admitting her love. She pulled her hand away a bit too roughly. "I won’t answer that Seven. You and I can never be. That is all that matters."

Janeway now regretted that response. If she had been honest, maybe Seven wouldn’t be leaving. Not that an admission would have changed their relationship, but at least Seven would have known she was loveable. Maybe it would have been enough.

The chime to the ready room doors sounded, announcing the arrival of the dreaded moment. "Come," Janeway called tiredly.

"You wished to see me," Seven of Nine entered the ready room, hands folded behind her back, stance defiant.

"Yes, Seven, please sit down," Janeway motioned to the chair in front of her desk. "I have read your resignation, and frankly, I am stunned that you want to leave Voyager. May I ask why?"

Seven sat stiffly in the chair, avoiding Janeway’s eyes. "You should not need to ask. However, I will comply with your request for an explanation," she stated in a monotone. "Captain, I have no wish to hurt you, and I am grateful for all that you have done for me. But I feel there is no future for me here."

Janeway bit back her immediate impulse to disagree vehemently. With a tentative level of control, she said "Explain."

"Voyager is several decades from Earth. There are no prospective mates for me aboard. I would like to have children. If I stay aboard Voyager, that option will not be available." Then more quietly, she added "Isharan has offered me that option."

Janeway blanched visibly. "Isharan? She is one of the members of the Kai’ Yamal council, isn’t she? The one with dark eyes and long black hair?" Janeway remembered the young woman well. She had been enchanting, even to the Captain.

Seven nodded. "She wishes to join with me."

"I see," Janeway lied. "And you—love her?" she faltered over the words slightly.

"No," Seven replied unrepentantly. "But according to my research, many cultures do not consider love relevant to the marital institution. Arranged marriages are not uncommon, even on ancient Earth. The data indicates that love may not exist at the outset, but may still develop over time. Isharan is a suitable mate, who wants children, as do I. She proclaims to love me. Perhaps in time, I will love her as well." Then with an edge of bitterness, "My limited personal experience indicates that whether or not I love someone is irrelevant to the outcome. I must conclude love is irrelevant, in general."

That stung. How could she make this woman understand that love was anything but irrelevant? Janeway decided to take a different approach. "What will you do for work? The Kai’ Yamal are not as advanced technologically as the Federation."

Seven was getting irritated with this exercise in futility. "My skills will be more in demand, then." She crossed her arms over her ample chest, and fixed Janeway with a glare. "Besides, you have said yourself that the Federation is not likely to welcome me with open arms. I have no friends or family in the Alpha Quadrant that I know of. There is nothing for me there. As much as I would like to see the crew reunited with their families and friends, I see no future for me there, either."

Janeway came around to the front of her desk, perched on the edge, so that she could be closer to the woman rapidly slipping through her fingers. "Voyager needs you," she murmured, wanting desperately to add "I need you." But her courage failed her. She would not make promises she couldn’t keep, and she certainly couldn’t have a relationship with Seven.

Seven’s eyebrow shot up abruptly. "Voyager managed before you severed me from the collective, and will manage after I leave," she intoned coolly. "And I am certain the crew will not object to my leaving."

Janeway flinched. It was true that the crew had never really treated Seven as one of them, despite the fact that Seven had risked her life for the ship, and had saved their xenophobic asses on many occassions.

The reaction was not lost on Seven, but she was brutal in her honesty. "More to the point, Captain, I do not need Voyager. My developmental needs cannot be met here. The Kai’ Yamal have no knowledge of the Borg, as they have never been attacked by them. The Kai’ Yamal do not fear me, as the crew of Voyager does. It has been an epiphany to discover what it is to merely exist without having to justify my existence or apologize for my past, to walk through a room and not be the subject of hateful glares and gossip, and to have my logical and efficient manner appreciated, instead of mocked."

"Is it that bad here?" Janeway sounded very small.

"Yes. The only members of Voyager who look upon me with anything but contempt are those who want to seduce me. You, and Naomi Wildman, are the exception to that. Even the Doctor has a decided leer when he speaks to me. I find it offensive and tiresome. And despite popular opinion, I do have feelings, and am unwilling to endure the constant emotional damage of being shunned, ignored, and disregarded."

"Oh, God, Seven, this is all my fault—it is my responsibility to--"

Seven cut her off. "You cannot order people to like me, Captain. I have been part of this collective for two years, and still, I am a pariah among my peers."

Janeway tried to pique a little resistance from her. "So you’re just going to give up," it was more a statement than a question.

To Janeway’s amazement, Seven laughed—a genuine, full volume laugh that lilted invitingly. "You are the one who taught me to ‘pick my battles’, Captain. I believe I have ‘pounded my head against this wall’ long enough to know I am not going to gain entrance to the other side."

Then more gently, "Captain, my request is not without precedent. Kes was permitted to leave without argument."

"That’s different. Kes was endangering the ship and left to save us from the repercussions of her metamorphosis to a higher life form."

Seven sighed. "Well, I suppose holding me against my will is also not without precedent, but I had thought better of you, Captain," she said pointedly, referring to Janeway’s kidnapping her from the Borg. "You encouraged me to embrace my humanity, my individuality. I have done so, and now I need to continue to do so. I am stagnant here," she waved to indicate the ship, "yet you persist in your attempts to deter me from leaving."

"Voyager will remain here at least a week for repairs, and possibly longer, for extended shore leave, if the Kai’ Yamal are agreeable. Can we discuss it again before we break orbit?"

"As you wish, Captain. But I will not change my mind. Perhaps the delay of the inevitable will help you adapt," she teased. She dismissed herself then, regretting that she had to hurt Kathryn that way, but knowing that her continued presence on Voyager was pointless.

Inside her ready room, Kathryn Janeway did something she hadn’t done in years. She cried.

An hour passed, and still she could not stem the flow of tears. It felt as if she was standing on loose soil at the edge of a cliff, and the soil was shifting beneath her feet. No matter how hard she backpedaled, her feet could not find purchase. When the chime to her ready room sounded, she was so lost in her grief she did not think to hide it. "Come," she said without hesitation.

Commander Chakotay came in then, smiling in his customary manner, humor lighting his eyes. "Kathryn, you won’t believe—what is it?" his mood instantly shifted to red alert. "What’s wrong?" he went to her then, kneeling at her feet and gazing up at her distraught, tear-stained face. She was too overcome to speak, and instead handed him the stack of electronic paperwork that detailed Seven’s resignation. He examined it grimly, the implications of it, and the implications of Kathryn’s reaction to it, which spoke volumes about Kathryn’s feelings for Seven of Nine.

"This is unfortunate," he stated. Then reaching up to his Captain, touching her face, he added "This is killing you. Why don’t you just tell her, before it’s too late?"

Janeway snorted. "Isharan has asked Seven to marry her. I’d say it can’t get much later."

Chakotay felt the contents of his stomach sour. "Damn," he said under his breath. "Did she say yes?"

Janeway shrugged . "I don’t know—I didn’t even think to ask her that, I was so shocked."

Chakotay peered contemplatively at his Captain. "You look pretty shell shocked. Is there anything I can do?"

"Wish her well, I suppose," Janeway commented flatly.

_____________

Later that afternoon, when the steady stream of crew were returning to Voyager for the evening, Janeway realized that it had been three days since Seven tendered her resignation, hence, three days since she had eaten solid food. The thought of eating made her nauseous, but she was feeling rather weak. Then she had an idea—she would invite Seven and Isharan to dinner. The least she could do was offer them her blessing.

She quickly sent an invitation to Seven’s comm account, and logged off her workstation. She was tidying up a stack of PADDs and Seven’s personnel file, when her ready room door chime sounded again. "Come," she called out. Without turning to look, she somehow knew it was Seven of Nine.

"Captain," Seven’s voice was deathly cold. "Why would you invite Isharan and I to dinner?"

Janeway tried to smile. "You’re my friend, and Isharan is your fiancee—why wouldn’t I?"

Seven fixed her with a steely look. "Kathryn, since I told you about my feelings for you, you have cancelled eight velocity matches with me. You have rejected three dinner invitations. You have failed to show up for three painting lessons with the Maestro. And you have avoided me and pretended everything was fine. That is not the behavior of a friend. And Isharan is not my fiancee—I have not entered into any agreement regarding that offer yet."

Janeway swallowed hard. "But you are leaving. Please, spend some time with me before Voyager leaves orbit. We’ll never see each other again, Seven," she added faintly, her eyes brimming again with tears. "I’m sorry, truly sorry that my distancing myself from you hurt you, Seven. My behavior has been reprehensible. I just thought, considering your feelings for me—maybe you might need some time away from me…"

"If that had been the case, I would have said so. You had no right to choose for me," she said darkly.

Janeway knew then their friendship was a lost cause. She had irreparably damaged it, and Seven was deeply angry, so much so that her eyes had gone cold where Kathryn was concerned. There was no warmth or humor, no teasing fondness. The change in Seven shook Kathryn to the bone, shivers wracking her slumping shoulders.

"If you will excuse me, Captain," Seven reverted to formalities, "I am dining planet side this evening, and I must prepare." She spun on her heel and marched out of Kathryn’s life.

_____________________________

 

Isharan Po’tay was the youngest member of the Kai’ Yamal council, having been elected at the age of 23. Now 27, she was still youngest, though not the least tenured. She had a substantial following in the populace, so much so that this year, no one had even bothered to challenge her in the election. She was charismatic and humorous, with a flashing smile and brown eyes, jet black hair, and a willowy body in which she seemed infinitely comfortable. She was nearly as tall as Seven, but seemed able to fold her limbs gracefully beneath her or beside her, with an ease that Seven envied.

When the away team had first landed, Yamal struck Seven as a little odd; there seemed to be no males in the Kai’ Yamal capital city. Isharan had gravitated toward Seven immediately, and they found they had a good deal in common. Seven found the young woman captivating, and the social structure of her culture was fascinating to the former Borg drone. The men on Yamal lived in the outlying agricultural regions, for the most part. There was no caste system per se, but the majority of political and scientific positions were occupied by females. The Academic positions were about 70% female occupied. Men seemed to favor the heavy labor oriented vocations, women the more intellectual. To the Kai’ Yamal’s credit, there was no hunger, no war, no poverty, and little disease. Violence was a foreign concept here.

For Seven of Nine, it was terribly appealing to be surrounded by people who reacted to her appearance with wonder and delight, instead of fear or abject lust. Isharan herself had commented that Seven was such a popular topic of discussion, that soon the children would want to wear adornments like her implants. Seven had been quite pleased at that prediction. Naomi Wildman was the only person who had ever emulated her, and she found the concept intriguing.

Isharan had brought her considerable charm to bear on the Chief of Astrometrics, and from the first meeting with the away team, they had been inseparable. Seven was in the throes of an adolescent crush, but to her credit, had the presence of mind to know that infatuation and love are not synonymous. Still, she enjoyed the giddy feelings, the freedom to express herself physically with a partner, the lack of pretense and protcol. Isharan, for her part, wanted nothing more than to share her life and her world with this vision of loveliness who had descended from the skies. She knew that Seven was an unrivaled treasure, and her only desire was to make Seven her lifemate. Seven was swept up in the excitement of having someone genuinely want her, and the effect of Isharan’s devotion strengthened Seven’s resolve to stay on Yamal exponentially with each passing day.

______________________

 

At first, the Kai’ Yamal had shepherded the senior staff around the city, showing them the historical sites, treating them to the rich local culture, and getting to know their guests. Janeway had been engrossed in the Kai’ Yamal traditions and trends, and had enjoyed their hospitality immensely, until it became obvious that Seven of Nine was attracted to one of the council members. Janeway abruptly lost interest in the cultural exchange, and got the Kai’ Yamal into serious trade discussions to enable Voyager to leave sooner than she had originally planned.

However, since the crew was chomping at the bit for shore leave, and there was no reason to engage Seven of Nine in negotiations or other ship’s business, Kathryn could hardly tell the object of her affection to stay the hell away from the desirable council woman. It seemed that during the trade negotiations, everytime she left the table for a break, for a drink of water, to stretch her legs—there was Seven with that woman. Janeway tried to convince herself she was imagining it, but it was not her imagination that told her Seven was flirting with and fawning over this young woman. Try as she might, Janeway could not mount a counter offensive to the Kai’ Yamal woman’s overtures. She simply couldn’t be with Seven, and she certainly couldn’t expect Seven to be celibate just because Janeway loved her from afar. And so she redoubled her efforts to get the trade negotiations wrapped up and be back on the road to the Alpha Quadrant post haste. That was when she got Seven’s resignation letter and request to remain on Yamal.

__________________

Seven and Isharan had spent three days together, sightseeing, dining, talking late into the night, and building a repore that happened so easily, Seven was amazed. In all her attempts to make friends on Voyager, none had succeeded this smoothly or quickly. In fact, none had really succeeded, except with Naomi Wildman. Seven was immensely pleased to find that she could share with someone and not have to constantly analyze what she was doing wrong, not have to measure her words syllable by syllable to edit out anything potentially offensive, awkward, or uninformed. She could simply be when she was with Isharan. It was a most liberating experience for Seven.

Isharan had instantly felt a powerful attraction to Seven. She found Seven’s thought processes to be wonderfully clear and sharply insightful, and Seven’s beauty was not lost on the passionate Kai’ Yamalian. Isharan found herself unable to desist from touching Seven at every opportunity, and was gratified when she realized Seven was not only receptive, but that she was also taking opportunities to physically engage Isharan. At first it was as innocent as a hand on an arm, or a guiding arm on the shoulder, but it rapidly became more deliberate; a hand touching a hand, a quick hug after a good laugh, an arm laced with another arm, and finally, meaningful looks that resulted in tentative kisses. Seven had never been kissed, and the stirrings it created in her were thrilling. Isharan had such expressive eyes that Seven felt she could drown in them. She spent hours staring into them as they talked, relieved to see only acceptance and affection there, and not the dreaded fear or distrust she saw in the eyes of the Voyager crew. Isharan gazed back at her with such happiness and appreciation, Seven had no difficulty believing it when Isharan told her that she loved her. Seven certainly felt loved, even cherished and possessed, when she was with Isharan. And so it was that she began to see a life outside of Voyager, a life apart from Kathryn Janeway and her damned command.

_____________

Seven had never been able to comprehend the human affinity for all things terrestrial. She had spent most of her 26 years on board one type of interstellar spacecraft or another, and the vastness of space had always felt enveloping and comforting to her. Astronomically, Voyager provided endless opportunity to study that vastness and all its wondrous diversity and complexity. Humans, on the other hand, seemed to seize every chance to holographically reproduce some planetside location, or take shore leave on any M class planet that presented itself. Seven had always found terrestrial life suffocating in varying degrees. It had never occurred to her that living on a planet could appeal to her on any level until she was shown Yamal. It was paradise.

The capital city was surrounded on three sides by towering spires of deep red rock, tucked in among their foothills. The fourth side opened out into several hundred acres of lush, wild fields, woods, and at the outskirts, agricultural settlements. The environment was unspoiled by pollution, the air crisp and clean, and the temperature stayed at a respectable 72° at the solar apogee. Seven was suddenly aware of the beauty of her surroundings, which felt anything but confining, especially when seen through Isharan’s perspective. Isharan took her hiking among the redrock trails, and pointed out the more granular aspects of the planet. Tiny lichens, flowers, seeds, insects, rocks, weeds—all held infinite subleties that would have been lost to Seven, had her guide not painstakingly revealed them to her. It was as if Isharan could see an entire galaxy of information and complexity in the least significant things, things the Borg would consider irrelevant. Seven drank it all in as if she could not be sated. Isharan was delighted by her curiosity, mesmerized by her analytical skill. Just as Isharan was allowing Seven to see through her eyes, Isharan was seeing the world through Seven’s eyes, and found the perspective exhilarating.

Seven realized that the only other person she had ever been so excited to spend time with was Kathryn Janeway. She had never expected to experience such anticipation of anyone else’s presence, or to crave their companionship. Isharan’s warmth and humor drew her in, surrounded her like a gentle caress, and even managed to dull the razor sharp edge of disappointment Seven had so acutely felt at Kathryn’s recent repudiation. Isharan provided a sorely needed reprieve from thoughts of the auburn-haired woman, and Seven embraced it eagerly.

__________

Isharan was an expert in the fine art of romance and seduction. She lavished Seven with compliments, gifts, and attention. She took the blonde beauty to all the best restaurants in the city. They drank, they danced, they dined, and Seven was spellbound by it all. Isharan’s devotion was genuine, if a bit overstated. Seven didn’t mind one bit, nor did she take for granted all of the gestures Isharan made to communicate Seven’s value. Isharan greeted her each day with a fresh-cut flower and a welcoming kiss. Seven was intrigued by the thoughtfulness Isharan showed her, opening doors for her, introducing her to everyone who cared to be introduced to the Borg outworlder, assisting her with every little thing that came up. Seven had longed to be this close to someone, to have their undivided attention. She had wanted Kathryn to be that someone, but Kathryn couldn’t be bothered. Seven vaguely wondered if Kathryn would have been persuaded by similar behavior, had Seven tried to romance the Captain as Isharan was romancing Seven. She rather suspected Kathryn would have merely been annoyed.

The night before Seven tendered her resignation, Isharan had taken her for a picnic at Tay Mor lake. The evening air had been refreshing and fragrant, and Isharan had set nearly one hundred candles afloat in the lake to create a fairy world for her Seven. The lights bobbed on an occasional ripple in the surface, and the illusion was magnificent.

"You—you did this for me?" Seven was nearly speechless.

"I wanted this evening to be special," Isharan allowed, taking Seven’s face in her hands. "I know this is soon to speak of these things, but Voyager will be leaving in less than a couple of weeks, and our time is short," she explained with deliberate calm. "I love you, Seven. I don’t want you to leave when Voyager does. Stay with me, please," she murmured, leaning her forehead against Seven’s. "I want to join with you."

Seven lost herself in Isharan’s kiss, her body responding of its own volition. All the pent up frustration over Kathryn seemed to spark into burning arousal as Isharan lay Seven down on the blanket, covering her with the length of her own frame. For long moments they searched each other’s lips, their intensity growing as they instinctively began to move against one another. Seven was breathing in tiny gasps by the time they broke the embrace.

Seven gazed up at Isharan with heavy lidded eyes. "Is joining a euphemism for copulation?" she asked seriously.

Isharan let out a sharp bark of laughter. "No, my love," she chuckled deeply. "Joining is a bond between two people who wish to spend their lives together. I believe the human equivalent, from what I have observed among your crew, is marriage."

Seven was stunned. This woman wanted to marry her. Seven felt her apprehension growing. It was too much, too soon. But Seven realized bitterly that she would have to seriously consider Isharan’s offer, since she would have little time to decide.

As if she had read Seven’s mind, Isharan’s brow knitted with concern. "I have frightened you," she stated. "Oh, Seven, that was not my intent," she apologized. "I would prefer a long courting period, but circumstances dictate expediency. I can’t let you go without speaking my heart."

Seven tried to reassure her by kissing her softly. "I know that when I am with you, I am happy, Isharan. You are beautiful and brilliant. But I could not make the sort of commitment you are asking, not yet. I would be willing to stay with you, however, and see what comes of this relationship."

And so it was that Seven came to submit her resignation to Kathryn.

______________

The Kai’ Yamal Council had invited the senior officers of Voyager for a banquet in honor of the trade agreement they had reached. Seven arrived with Isharan, both clothed in the flowing sashes of the formal Kai’ Yamal attire. The fabric was irridescent, and appeared to be merely wrapped around the wearer, so that it moved freely, shimmering in the fading light of sunset. More than one head turned to watch the two beauties entering the banquet hall, and there were audible gasps and whispers as they made their way to their seats. Isharan held Seven’s hand possessively, knowing the eyes of the entire community watched her with envy as she escorted the stunning alien.

Chakotay had had to steady Janeway when she saw the couple make their entrance, as the Captain nearly collapsed then and there. Not only was Seven breathtaking, she was smiling with an openness she had never before displayed, laughing at the amusing things Isharan said, and, Janeway noted dolefully, their fingers were laced together in the most intimate way. The ashen expression on the Captain’s face was instantly recognized by her senior officers, except for Seven of Nine; they had seen the Captain look the same way when the Borg Queen had taken Seven captive. B’Elanna Torres, the Chief Engineer, leaned toward Tom Paris, her lover. "This is not good," she said under her breath. "The Captain looks like a prisoner on the barge of the dead."

Tom’s face registered sympathy. "Sometimes you just don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone," he remarked, feeling Janeway’s palpable agony. "I wonder if she realizes she’s staring at them?"

Harry Kim had joined them. "Seven doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to the poor woman," he glowered. He decided to help the Captain save face, if she would let him. He quietly approached her, resting his hand against her elbow and leaning close enough to whisper. "Captain," he said gently, wanting to heal the haunted look in her eyes, "you are not feeling well. Please, ma’am, let me take you back to Voyager," his voice was pleading. "Chakotay can handle the visiting dignitary routine. You need some rest," he squeezed her arm protectively. When Janeway mutely nodded instead of offering at least a token resistance, Harry knew the Captain was very far gone, indeed.

"Chakotay," Janeway began.

"It’s all right Kathryn," he assured her. "I’ll tender the proper excuses. Harry," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, "I’m trusting you to take very good care of her."

"Yes sir," Harry responded. "Voyager, two to beam up, directly to the Captain’s quarters."

They materialized in Janeway’s living room. Her expression was dull, but she laid her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," she said sincerely.

"No thanks necessary," he replied. "Now, since I am under strict orders to take care of you, I intend to do just that. You," he maneuvered her to the couch, "sit here. I’m going to replicate some dinner for you, and draw you a bath—ah, ah, ah, no arguments. You don’t want Chakotay to take me to task for disobeying his orders, do you?"

Janeway shook her head. "No, Ensign, it wouldn’t do to have Chakotay angry at you," she agreed. She followed the handsome young man with her eyes, vaguely aware of how much he had matured since coming aboard Voyager. She urgently hoped she would get him home before his parents were gone, as they must love him dearly.

"Here we go—it’s a bit bland, Captain, but I suspect you haven’t eaten in awhile, so better to start with something mild." He handed her a plate of grilled chicken and mashed potatoes, and a glass of sparkling water. She raised an eyebrow at his knowing tone. He shrugged. "Your ascetic habits in time of crisis are legendary, ma’am," he explained. He was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

"Legendary, Ensign? I may have to consult you for the latest on the grapevine, although I thought that was B’Elanna’s department. Harry, if you’re hungry, please, replicate something for yourself. You’re missing the banquet." He returned to the replicator gratefully, his hunger gnawing at him. "Now, Ensign," Janeway said playfully, as he rejoined her with his dinner. "What is the crew’s take on Seven’s resignation?"

Harry almost dropped his fork. "Seven resigned? Oh God, Captain, I didn’t know—I’m so sorry," he set his plate on the coffee table, reached for Janeway’s hand without even thinking about it. "No wonder you’re so upset. She’s really going to leave?"

"At ease," she teased him, though the customary sparkle in her eyes was absent. "Yes, she’s really leaving. Isharan has asked Seven to marry her," she added, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She struggled for control, but the tears filled her eyes anyway. She set her plate on the end table, unable to eat.

Harry felt so bad for her, he hugged her. She actually allowed it. He held her then, patting her back. "You should go to her, Captain," he said softly. "Tell her what’s in your heart."

Janeway pushed him back, studying his face. "You know?" she asked meekly.

Harry took her delicate hands in his. "Everyone knows, Captain. Only a blind person could miss it—the way your face lights up when she walks onto the bridge, the glint in your eye when she gives a report in the staff meetings—we’ve all wished you would just admit it to yourself, and to her, and let yourself be happy."

Her face clouded with sorrow then. "So I’ve been holding this inside me for the good of my crew, and all the while, my crew has known that—that—I love her?" There. It was said. No taking it back.

Harry felt his own eyes threaten to tear up. "We’ve known for a long time," he reassured her. "Captain, this crew owes you their lives a hundred times over. All any of us want for you is your happiness. If Seven makes you happy, then no one will find fault with that." He swallowed hard, squeezing her hands. "Don’t you know that the people on this ship love you?"

Janeway knew it had taken a good deal of courage for this fine young officer to speak to her this way, and she knew that he’d done it for her own good, because she needed it. She cupped his face in her hand. "I only know that I love the people in my crew. I didn’t dare hope it was mutual. After all, it’s my fault we’re stuck out here—why should they feel anything but resentment for me?"

Harry felt a mutinous tear slip from his eye and slowly streak down his cheek. "No one blames you," he whispered fiercely. "You have to believe that. And you have to trust that no one will think less of you for loving Seven. In fact, it’s just the opposite. You are so hard on yourself that we all feel compelled to live up that same standard. If you would allow yourself to be a little less perfect, the rest of us might stop pushing frantically to impress you," he tried to tease her. "Besides," he grinned impishly, "if you let yourself be with Seven, by the time we get back to Earth, you’ll have been married too long for Starfleet to raise an eyebrow. Hell, everyone who outranks you will be too old to pitch a fit," he laughed, seeing her own smile pursing her lips.

She smacked his leg, chuckling. "Harry Kim, you are something else," she shook her head.

"Hey, I have a great role model," he quipped, inclining his head toward her. "Now, let me draw your bath, Captain. It’ll be good for all that ails you."

__________________

Isharan was debating the finer points of democracy versus autocracy with B’Elanna, who was so far out of her league, she was outdistanced rapidly. Seven looked on adoringly, pleased that her date had effortlessly bested the fiery Klingon-human hybrid. B’Elanna needed to be taken down a notch or two, as far as Seven was concerned. B’Elanna had only hoped to make the Kai’ Yamal woman lose face, thinking somehow that would help the Captain, but the Kai’ Yamal were known throughout the quadrant as skilled mediators and diplomats. B’Elanna was hardly equipped to deal with one of their best and brightest in a political debate. The smug expression on the Borg drone’s face infuriated her. She resisted the urge to kick Seven under the table, barely.

In spite of himself, Chakotay was enchanted by Isharan’s wit and beauty. He reluctantly admitted to himself that Seven would be hard pressed to resist the graceful Kai’ Yamal’s appeal, especially considering how Kathryn had straight armed the devoted Borg for the last two years. His heart ached for Kathryn, but he could understand why Seven wanted to leave. And the way that Isharan doted upon the young woman, it would be impossible for Seven to resist entirely. Chakotay averted his eyes from the sight of the two new lovers, whispering intimately, feeding each other bits of food as if no one else was in the room, laughing. He had never seen Seven so animated, so alive. Or so gorgeous. Finally, he understood what Harry Kim had been so worked up about.

Seven excused herself from the table to refill the plate she was sharing with Isharan. She lingered over the selection, making sure to take only the best of the proffered delicacies. She didn’t notice B’Elanna until the Klingon was pressed against her side. "Lieutenant," she said coldly, "you are crowding me."

B’Elanna smiled threateningly at the strapping blonde. "Damned right I am," she hissed. "Notice anyone missing, Seven?" her eyes glittered with contempt.

Seven calmly surveyed the room. "Harry and the Captain," she correctly noted.

B’Elanna studied a Yamalian fruit spread intently. "Yeah," she said, baiting the Borg, "Harry had to take the Captain back to the ship. She got one look at you and your girlfriend, and she almost broke down right there. Thank Kahless, Chakotay and Harry caught her before she hit the deck."

Seven appraised her skeptically. "Your aptitude for exaggeration never ceases to amaze me, Lieutenant," she said dryly.

B’Elanna grasped Seven’s arm harshly, causing no small amount of pain. "I’m not kidding Seven. You’re breaking her heart, you callous bitch," she spat, wrenching Seven’s arm for emphasis. Something flickered in Seven’s eyes, but was then replaced by aloofness.

"I believe it is Kathryn who is callous, B’Elanna. I told her I am in love with her, and she made it clear she cannot reciprocate. It was her choice. She’s hardly spoken to me since then, let alone given any indication that she cares for me."

"Goddammit Seven, you should have tried harder to convince her. You gave up too easily. If you had been a little more persistant, she’d have crumbled eventually."

"I am afraid you are, as you would say, ‘full of shit,’ B’Elanna," Seven retorted indignantly.

"Listen, you pathetic heap of half-assed metal—God knows what Janeway sees in you, but it’s plain as the nose on your Borg-enhanced face—she loves you. She just needs to be finessed, a little bit. So? Are you going to fight for the woman you love, or settle for second best?" Torres’ face looked positively feral.

Seven picked over the foodstuffs, not allowing her ire to show. "Isharan is hardly second to anyone," she spat back. "At least she is not ashamed to love me. She does not think herself too good for me. And what Kathryn denies, Isharan celebrates so freely, that I am freed, as well."

"Freedom?" B’Elanna bellowed. "You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word if the Captain hadn’t rescued you in the first place. This is how you show your gratitude? By resigning your position?"

"Lieutenant, you may be correct that Kathryn gave me my individuality back, but I never asked to be a Starfleet officer, or a member of Voyager. In actuality, I am neither. I am not Maquis, I am not Starfleet. I am Borg. And every member of Voyager has made it painfully clear that I do not belong there. Kathryn is the only one who has ever tried to befriend me. Yet sadly, even Kathryn only wants to be loved, not to give it in return. Why would I stay where I am not wanted, where I am openly despised—most notably, by you?"

For a nanosecond, Torres realized the truth in Seven’s words. Maybe if she had tried to be more accomodating to the Borg woman, if they all had been less quick to judge and shun what was different in Seven, the Captain wouldn’t be losing her one true love. B’Elanna banished that instant of compassion with Klingon anger. "Well, you’ve got it all figured out, apparently. But keep one thing in mind, Seven. Once Voyager is gone, so is Janeway. And all your arrogant pride will be worthless, without Janeway to punish." Torres turned so abruptly, the breeze she left behind lifted Seven’s garments.

Seven watched her retreating backside, thinking she would like to throw some Yamalian fruit at the back of B’Elanna’s armor plated head. But warm arms enfolded her from behind, and the fragrant heat of Isharan enveloped her, before she could decide which piece of fruit to hurl at the Klingon. She rotated in Isharan’s arms, facing the piercing brown eyes that devoured her. "What’s taking you so long," Isharan purred, kissing Seven’s neck provocatively. Seven inadvertently made a soft sound in her throat. "I want you, Seven," she whispered hoarsely, nuzzling the soft hollow of her collarbone. "Please, stay with me tonight."

"Unfortunately, I cannot," Seven said between Isharan’s fevered kisses, though her body relented progressively in response to the desire assaulting her senses. "I must regenerate," she professed between yet more kisses. "I have not been in my alcove since Voyager arrived here. I have exhausted my reserves," she admitted. "As much as I would like to stay," she murmured through softer, sweeter kisses, "I do not wish to make myself sick by neglecting myself."

Isharan held her then, resting her forehead against Seven’s. "I want you to be well, my love," she sighed. "Please hurry, so I can be with you again," she begged.

"I will hurry. I will see you in the morning," Seven promised.

____________

Ka’mala, leader of the Kai’ Yamal council, and Isharan surveyed the room, the banquet winding down. Ka’mala was pleased with the success of the event. Isharan sipped a Yamalian wine, her expression pensive.

"What troubles you, my daughter?" Ka’mala asked. "Is there a problem with Seven of Nine?"

"No, mother. The problem is with me, I am afraid."

"How so?" Ka’mala touched her child’s arm, looking up at the taller Po’Tay.

"I am conflicted. It feels wrong to withold this information from Seven."

"Daughter, you are of the Kai’ Yamal. Seven is an outsider. Outsiders are never told, until they become one of us. It is for our protection," she said sternly. "And what would you gain from telling her? More importantly, what would she gain?" She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "I too can feel Seven’s emotions. If you tell her you are tel-empathic, she will only be angry at you for the deception. As it stands, she is struggling, trying to let go of Janeway, and wanting to love you. She will either succeed, or fail. Either way, this is not the time to tell her."

"I feel her confusion, mother. It pains me," she grimaced, her dark eyes flashing. "Janeway has injured Seven so deeply, and yet when I met her, I could tell she loves Seven. Seven wishes she could love me, but so far, she can only wish it. I hate to manipulate the situation, but I feel compelled to help her."

Ka’mala grinned. "You are helping her. I met with Janeway this morning, and her resolve is melting. She is jealous of your relationship with Seven, and she is starting to consider throwing caution to the wind. Janeway will either come to her senses and cease this ridiculous adherence to duty, in which case Seven will be with her; or Seven will detach from Janeway, and will give herself truly to you."

Isharan swallowed audibly. "I am quickly losing my ability to separate what I feel and want from what I know. Even knowing Seven loves Janeway, I find I want her, and would gladly endure the pain of feeling her love for another, if it meant I could be with her."

"Courage, daughter," her mother slipped an arm around her waist. "As tel-empaths, the burden falls to us to heal those who will not heal themselves. It is a terrible obligation, but it is our way. I am sorry that Seven has captured your heart so completely, but it can’t be helped."

"I only intended to provide the illusion, so that Janeway would see the error of her ways," Isharan admitted. "Only now, my love for Seven is no illusion."

________________

 

 

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine," Janeway gave in to her curiosity.

"Seven of Nine is not on board Voyager."

"Computer, state the time."

"It is now 0230 hours."

"Goddammit, where is she?" Janeway asked no one in particular.

"Please restate the question," the computer replied.

"Get bent," Janeway retorted to the mechanical female voice. Seven was, no doubt, with Isharan. "How the hell am I supposed to fix this if she never comes back on board?" she muttered. She needed to move. The walls were closing in. She ran a brush through her hair, made sure she was dressed, and stormed out the doors, trying to escape the creeping dread that was on her heels. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she reasoned. Surely to God I didn’t come all the way to the Delta Quadrant to find the love of my life, and then lose her. That would be too cruel, even for this universe. Who am I kidding? I didn’t lose her, I practically threw her into Isharan’s arms.

 

Falling back on an old habit, Janeway wandered the ship, ending up in Cargo Bay 2. The Borg alcove glowed green in the darkness. Janeway sat on the dais, leaning against the railing, wondering how many times she had sat just this way, watching Seven sleep, her throat closed with unspoken love, trying to reconcile what she knew she felt but could never express. Or so she thought. And all this time, no one had been fooled by her stoic attempts to resist love. All those months of torture for nothing, and realizing the futility of it too late. She could no longer make excuses to stay in the Yamal system; the repairs were complete, and the crew had had its R&R. Voyager would have to leave shortly. And still, Seven had not responded to Janeway’s requests for a follow up meeting.

Janeway rested her chin on her knees, which were tucked against her chest. None of this mattered to her anymore, she realized. Not the ship, not the goal of getting home, not even her own guilt over stranding Voyager. Without Seven, she simply could not function. She would have to turn the ship over to Chakotay, because her pain was too raw and consuming for her to make sound decisions. She wished Chakotay were awake, she could just get it over with and hand him the keys to Voyager, and get on with her self-pity in earnest. Seven wasn’t coming back tonight, she decided, and there was no point in waiting. Janeway was about to leave the Cargo Bay, when she noticed the small bed Seven had put into a private area next to her alcove, a reminder of Seven’s marginally successful attempts at learning to sleep like a human being. Overcome with exhaustion, and needing to be close to Seven in whatever way she could, Janeway lay in the Borg’s bed, pulling the covers around her, and smelling the sheets for a telltale hint of Seven’s essence. It filled her senses sharply, the clean scent with a slightly metallic tinge making her weep softly again. She fell asleep before the sobs could begin, and before Seven materialized at her alcove. Seven was restless with desire after such an intimate evening with Isharan, and forced herself to regenerate immediately. She never saw Kathryn sleeping in her bed.

_______________

 

"Kathryn, you can’t be serious," Chakotay protested. "I won’t do it."

Janeway snatched his hand and deposited four pips in his palm. "You don’t have a choice, Chakotay. I need more time to try to work this out with Seven, and the crew is ready to get back on course for the Alpha Quadrant. I have no option but to step down," she admitted regretfully. "You’re ready for this, Chakotay. You’ll be an excellent Captain. Just get these people home."

Chakotay struggled with his emotions, grappling to restore his usual placid demeanor. "What about your family? Your mother, your sister?"

Janeway shrugged. "Short of a miracle, Mom will be dead before Voyager gets back. And Phoebe no doubt has her own family by now."

"Kathryn," his tone was pleading, "please don’t do this."

"I have to. I am ineffective and unfit for those pips. I have to," she repeated. "Please, Chakotay, if you are my friend—don’t make this any harder for me."

He nodded. "Let me know if you have a change of heart."

_________

 

"This is odd," Isharan commented, looking over a communique while Seven puttered around the Kai’ Yamal’s home.

"What?" Seven asked.

"Your Captain has requested domicile on Yamal," she said, concern coloring her words.

"You are mistaken," Seven insisted. "Captain Janeway’s ship is her life."

Isharan handed her the palm sized device. "See for yourself."

Seven studied the information. "This cannot be. It says she has resigned her commission. Kath—Captain Janeway would never do that."

Isharan winced. "She is staying because you are staying."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "She would not do that."

Isharan shook her head. "Face it, Seven. She is coming here to try to win you over. That is the only reasonable explanation."

"Nonsense. That would be inefficient. I have not answered any of the messages she has sent me in the last week. She has no reason to believe I am receptive to being ‘won over’, Isharan. She has held my heart for over two years, and has never once indicated even a passing interest in being with me as more than a superior officer. If she had feelings for me, she would have acted on them long ago." Seven bit her lip fretfully, not believing her own reasoning. "Besides, when I told her you had asked me to join with you, she invited us both to dinner, as a gesture of congratulations."

Isharan frowned. "You never mentioned that."

Seven shrugged. "Why would I? It was merely her attempt to scrutinize you further, which would have resulted in her rendering an opinion I would not bother to solicit."

Isharan gathered Seven into her arms, smiling brightly. "Is that your way of saying you don’t care if she approves of me or not?"

Seven smiled. "Perhaps."

Isharan pulled her down to the sofa. "How do you feel about her staying?"

"You are worried?" Seven prodded.

"I’d be a fool if I weren’t," Isharan laughed. "You’ve told me you love her, Seven. Has that changed?"

Seven’s gaze dropped to her lap. "No. But that does not mean I have to act upon the sentiment." Seven blushed at the thought. Then meeting her new love’s eyes again, added "I find it much more gratifying to be loved than to be rejected. Kathryn has only shown me the latter."

Isharan sighed, torn between selfishness and selflessness. "Seven, you need to talk to her. If you and I are to make a life together, I can’t have her hanging over me like a storm cloud, always threatening to wash away whatever we build. I couldn’t bear living in doubt of our future. And," she felt her chest swell, "I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to regret your choices." And I can feel that you love her, Seven, you can’t hide it from me. You can’t protect me from it. I feel your stubborn pride, your need to strike out at her, tempered by the most powerful admiration and desire.

"You should find her, Seven," Isharan advised, fearing that she was unlikely to see Seven again. She touched the Borg’s elegant face. "Be well, Seven," she whispered. "I love you."

_________________

 

Seven queried the computer as to the whereabouts of Captain Janeway. It reported that she was in a conference with Chakotay, privacy lockout engaged. Seven opted to use the time to regenerate, and returned to the ship. She made a mental note to arrange for relocating the Borg alcove to the planet. She would pack later. She hesitated to start the regeneration cycle, thought better of it, and went to her workstation. She pulled up the list of messages Kathryn had sent during the visit to Yamal, in chronological order:

Seven: I know I have behaved abysmally, but please, let me make

it up to you. Please, meet me in Holodeck 1 at 1600 hours, and I will

attempt to explain myself. Looking forward to seeing you.

Kathryn

That message had arrived shortly after Seven had met with Janeway regarding her resignation. Then the next day, Kathryn had sent this note:

 

Seven: I don’t blame you for being angry with me, and I understand why
you haven’t responded to my message. Please don’t shut me out. I need
to talk to you. Give me a half an hour, that’s all I ask.

Kathryn

Seven had almost given in when the next one arrived:

My Dearest Seven of Nine:
I fear I will never see you again. You looked so lovely at the banquet last
night, and so happy. Please believe that I am your friend, despite my
recent actions to the contrary.
Voyager will be leaving soon. Can’t you spare a few moments
before I go? I only want to say goodbye.

Love,

Kathryn

Seven scanned the display. There was a new message she had yet to read.

Seven: I am swallowing my pride to make one last, feeble attempt to
get you to talk to me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I am derelict in my duty
to the ship. Your silence is deafening. I am not functioning within
acceptable parameters, because I am overwhelmed with sadness, knowing
you are leaving Voyager. How can I explain to you what I am feeling? I
am utterly lost. Remember when I took you from the Borg, how you
were so frightened by the lack of the voices of the collective? You told me
that you were alone, and could not bear it. I find I cannot bear the
aloneness of being without your voice, nor can I bear the desolation of being
without your love.

That night in my quarters, when you told me you were in love with me, I wanted to tell you that I have had romantic feelings for you since the moment I saw you, all bluster and Borg formality and arrogance. I have fought myself at every turn to prevent throwing myself at you, to avoid the passion I have so wanted to show you. I have abandoned you emotionally countless times over out of my fear of needing

you. I have learned, too late, that what is important, in fact all that matters, is love. I would change it all if I could, Seven. I would give myself up to the need, surrender to the desire, and not care who sees that I am in love with you, if only you would let me.

Yours entirely,

Kathryn

Seven read the letter over and over, even though she had no need to do so. It was committed to memory after the first reading. She couldn’t stop herself though. Kathryn loved her, and had finally dared to tell her. Seven felt hot tears burning her eyes, her heart ached so. Isharan offered as much, and had never hurt her. Kathryn had wasted two years with her senseless, exasperating standards of propriety. What if she were only reacting to the threat Isharan posed? What if her behavior reverted back to Captain mode, in the event Seven pardoned her transgressions and allowed herself to love Kathryn again? As if I could ever stop loving her, Seven chided herself. She was weary of the burden of choosing, and careful to save the letter to her personal files, she shut down the workstation and retreated to her alcove.

 

 

Janeway stood mutely, watching Seven regenerate, as she had done countless times before. It felt strange to be out of uniform, but Janeway was tired of red and black, anyway. She had donned an oversized white button-down shirt and jeans for her first day as civilian Kathryn Janeway. It felt wonderful to let her auburn hair hang loose around her face, not quite shoulder length. She could finally allow herself the indulgence of staring unabashedly at the exquisite woman before her. She prayed to any deity within earshot that she would be given a second chance to do this right.

She waited patiently, unwilling to interrupt Seven’s slumber, unwilling to tear herself from the vision of the six foot, perfectly proportioned blonde who had captured her heart so completely. Seven’s sleep was calm and peaceful, and Kathryn could not look away from the sight of her. Occasionally, Seven’s full lips parted with a soft sigh, and the sound made Janeway yearn to touch those lips with her own.

Seven was vaguely aware of Kathryn’s presence, in the way that a lover knows when their loved one is near. She stirred momentarily, coming to a more conscious state, just as the computer announced "Regeneration cycle complete." Seven blinked several times, then caught sight of the older woman, whose expression was softened by longing and love. Seven felt her heart lurch in her chest. She stepped out of the alcove, sauntering toward her one true love, breathless from the effect of seeing this woman vulnerable, and enchanted by the way she looked in casual clothes. She drank in the beauty of Kathryn Janeway, of her petite build, her fine boned hands, her slightly tousled tresses. Seven noted with concern that Kathryn was painfully thin, and her eyes showed her sleep deprivation, but she was still perfect in the eyes of the young Borg.

"Kathryn," she acknowledged. "I am glad to see you."

Janeway was startled. "You are?"

"Yes. I would like to discuss your resignation with you, as well as my own. Is there someplace we can talk, without being interrupted?" she kept her voice steady.

"Computer, initiate site to site transport, authorization Janeway Delta –Oh-two lambda. Beam us directly to the Captain’s quarters."

After they materialized in her quarters, Kathryn poured them each a glass of wine. "It’s Yamalian," she said, handing Seven the wineglass. "It seemed appropriate." Kathryn smiled nervously.

"Sit with me," Seven commanded, though her tone was kind. The two women curled up on the couch, shy now that they were together. "Your last letter was very moving," Seven commented. "I was just so angry with you, and so hurt, I could not respond to the prior messages. I apologize." Seven studied her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap.

Kathryn couldn’t take her eyes off of Seven, praying to see a spark, any indication, that the former Borg drone still loved her. "There’s nothing to apologize for," Janeway stated simply. "I take full responsibility for the disaster I’ve made of our relationship."

Then almost whispering, Seven asked "Why are you leaving Voyager? I had thought this ship was the only thing that matters to you, yet you would walk away?"

Kathryn reached for her primly clasped hands then. "I told you on that Borg ship that I wasn’t leaving without you. I’m not leaving Yamal without you, either. Since you won’t come with me, I am staying here."

"But Kathryn," Seven implored, "Voyager needs you."

Janeway smiled sadly. "Yes, but I do not need Voyager," she replied, echoing Seven’s words back to her. "I need you, Seven of Nine," she said hoarsely.

"But Kathryn," Seven argued, "how can you stay behind when you know Isharan and I--"

Janeway cut her off, holding her hands firmly. "It doesn’t matter. If I cannot be your lover, I can at least know that you are alive and well. As long as you are with the Kai’ Yamal, I will be there. If there is even the slightest chance that I might be with you, I will be waiting for that day. I will wait forever, if I have to," she vowed. Then hollowly, "You have promised Isharan, then?" The pain in her eyes cut Seven to the quick.

Seven shook her head slowly. "I have not promised her anything."

Janeway was encouraged by that, and moved closer to her beloved. "Well then, since you haven’t committed yourself, I am not stepping over any boundaries when I tell you, I love you, Seven. I have always loved you. Before you tell Isharan your decision, I want to give you another option." She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small box. "My mother gave me this the day I was promoted to Captain. It has been in our family for seven generations. It seemed fitting to offer it to you, as I offer myself, wholly and without reservation." Kathryn dropped to the floor, kneeling before the statuesque woman who owned her, body and soul. She continued to hold Seven’s hands, never breaking eye contact. "Annika Hansen, I love you with all my heart. Will you join with me, and allow me to love you for the rest of our lives?"

Seven squirmed with embarrassment. It was too much to see the proud Captain on her knees, in the ultimate gesture of supplication, delivering herself into Seven’s shaking hands. She had given up everything—her command, her career, the hope of ever seeing home again. It was too much for the Borg to process emotionally.

"Kathryn, get up," she urged, disconcerted by the shift in power between them.

Kathryn gazed at her with such humility, Seven thought her heart would shatter. "No. This is where I belong. Will you, Seven?" She waited patiently at the feet of her love, opened the box that held the ring, and held it out to Seven. Seven looked first at the eyes that beheld her, then at the ring, a delicate gold band with an oval fire opal, with deep blue sapphires on either side.

"You want me to marry you?" Seven was flabbergasted. "A week ago, you would not even play Velocity with me—but now you want to marry me?" Seven wrestled with the paradox of Kathryn’s behavior, wanting to believe, but not trusting the sudden change.

"Yes," Janeway said, a bit more confidently. "I do."

"And what are you proposing we do? Make our home on Yamal, or stay on Voyager?"

Janeway showed no bias in her expression. "My home is wherever you are. If you will have me, I will go wherever you say. As long as I can be with you, the rest is—irrelevant."

Seven tried to harden her heart, but Kathryn’s manner was so submissive, Seven’s protectiveness asserted itself.

"I love you, Kathryn, but I am afraid," she confessed. "I am not sure I trust your new attitude. For the last two years, you have negated the possibility of a relationship, and now, overnight, that has changed. How can I believe you know what you want?"

"Because I have made it clear that you are what I want, more than anything. If I wanted anything else, I would not be willing to settle on Yamal. If I had any doubts, I wouldn’t be ready to stay in a culture barely capable of warp propulsion. If I stay there, I have no chance of ever leaving. That’s the best I can do to convince you." Then more constrained, she added "Please tell me it’s enough."

"I need to think about this," Seven hedged. "I am confused." She withdrew her hands from Kathryn’s smaller ones. "I need to talk to Isharan, as well."

Kathryn smiled sadly. "I’ll be waiting."

Seven seized the opportunity to act. "In the meantime, I want you to eat a decent meal, get a full eight hours of sleep, and tell Commander Chakotay not to leave orbit just yet. Understood?" Kathryn nodded contritely.

"Good. It will do a great deal for my trust if you carry out my wishes, Kathryn. I am not pleased that you have allowed yourself to worry to exhaustion, and starved yourself to frailty."

"I will eat and sleep, as soon as I speak with Chakotay," she acquiesced.

___________

Seven materialized outside Isharan’s dwelling. She knew for certain she was becoming more human, because she was bone weary. She knocked on the large wooden door. Isharan’s face appeared at the window, and the door flew open. "Seven," she almost shouted, grabbing the frazzled young woman. "You came back."

Seven kissed her hello then, questioningly. "Isharan, we must talk."

"Of course," the dark haired woman motioned her inside. "Did you find Captain Janeway?"

"Yes. She asked me to marry her," Seven stated with her customary Borg bluntness.

Isharan tried not to frown. "I see. What did you tell her?"

"I told her I needed to think it over, and that I am confused. I told her I do not trust her."

"But you want to trust her, don’t you Seven?" There was no accusation in her tone.

"Isharan," Seven took her hand, "I am sorry if this is hurting you. I am very confused, and the two people I would normally confide in have a vested interest in the outcome of my decision. It is—most inefficient."

Isharan hung her head. "I am forbidden to tell you this, Seven, but you have the right to know. Come let me explain it," she pulled the Borg to her feet, leading her down the hall. They sat upon the bed, speaking in hushed tones. "The Kai’ Yamal are tel-empathic. I am tel-empathic. It is against our laws to tell an outsider this, and I could be severely punished for telling you. But I can’t lie to you any longer." She took Seven’s hand in both of her own. "I know your emotions—I can sense them. I hear some of your thoughts, though not exactly verbatim, I can hear the general ideas, and I feel your emotions." She paused to let the admission register.

Seven stiffened visibly. "You have been reading my mind?" she was indignant.

"Not exactly, but it is accurate to say that I can sense your thoughts, and the emotions that accompany them. It is difficult to explain. It is stronger than empathy, and less precise than telepathy. We can disassociate from it, in a manner of speaking. It’s like selective listening. I can block it if I want to. But part of our heritage as Kai’ Yamal is to help others with our tel-empathy. When we first met, I knew that you were having a difficult time with Kathryn. I felt your anguish. I felt her love for you, and her need to repress it. I knew if I showed an interest in you, it would prompt Kathryn to stop playing games with you, and to realize what she wants more than anything is to be with you," Isharan cleared her throat, ashamed of her deception.

"So your interest in me has been a ruse to provoke Kathryn," Seven’s voice was ice.

"No, it is not a ruse. In the beginning, that was my objective, but after spending a few days with you, I didn’t care about Kathryn’s feelings anymore, or helping you two sort it all out. All I cared about was how I feel about you, Seven. I’ve never met anyone like you, never felt so strongly about another person. I fell in love with you so completely, and immediately. But as much as I wish you would join with me, I know the content of your heart. You do not love me, though you wish you could. You do love Kathryn, though you wish you didn’t. Isn’t that right?"

Seven nodded. "I think I would love you eventually, Isharan, if I could get away from Kathryn."

"But she is not going to make it easy, Seven. She knows that if she stays on Yamal, you will have to decide. If she leaves with Voyager and you stay, circumstances will make the decision for you. She knows if the decision falls to you, odds are, you will choose her. She’s risking it all on that chance." Isharan added more softly "And you do love her, Seven. You were deeply hurt by her rejection, and you are angry with her for being too cowardly to love you openly. However, if you will allow yourself to forgive her, you will see quite clearly that you do not love me, or want to be with me, though it pains me to say so."

Seven considered the insightful analysis. "Isharan, if I cannot forgive her, and choose to remain on Yamal, would you still be willing to join with me, knowing I do not love you?"

"Yes. I’d take that risk. You are worth so much more than any risk involved, I’d have to try. But I’m not sure that it’s wise of you, Seven, to join with someone you might eventually love, when there is someone you already love more than life itself. You condemned Kathryn for clinging to her pride and protocol—but refusing to forgive her is just your pride getting in the way. It’s no different than what she did."

Seven narrowed her eyebrows at the dark eyed woman. "You sound as if you want me to choose her. Have you suddenly changed your mind about loving me?"

"Not at all. But I would like to think I can put my will aside, and help you do what is best for you. I suspect Kathryn is best for you. She loves you every bit as much as I do, and you love her. She has learned her lesson, Seven. You can trust that."

"You can say, without reservation, that Kathryn will not revert to her old ways of keeping me at bay?"

"I’m a tel-empath. I have it on very good authority that Kathryn is a changed woman," she chuckled.

Seven held the elegant face of her suitor in her hands. "Isharan, this is the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me. I am overwhelmed."

Isharan leaned in and kissed her. "It is the right thing to do."

"Is that why we never…"

Isharan heard her mental completion of the question. "Made love? Yes, that’s why. I wanted to more than anything, and the night of the banquet, if you had come home with me, I could not have stopped myself. But I took the time that night to get a grip on myself, and maintain a modicum of objectivity about the situation. I knew if I slept with you, I’d never be able to do the right thing, I’d be so lost in you. I was careful, thereafter, to make sure the opportunity did not arise."

"Clever," Seven noted, impressed, if a little disappointed. "I didn’t even notice."

"Yes, well I’m usually pretty good at this sort of thing. Although you really threw me, Seven of Nine." She sighed. "You’d better get back to Voyager, before they leave without you. Be happy Seven. Let yourself forgive her. Let yourself love her again, without resentment. Let her prove her love to you. Be well, my love," she added tenderly. "Now go on—beam up, or whatever you people do to jumble your matter and move it."

Seven slapped her comm badge. "Seven of Nine to Voyager. One to beam up, 15 second delay."

"Acknowledged," the transporter chief replied.

In the remaining fifteen seconds, Seven hugged Isharan to her tightly. "Good-bye, Isharan," she whispered. "Thank you for loving me," she added as her body dematerialized into bright blue light patterns. Isharan lingered over the sensation of Seven holding her. Somehow, having done the right thing was little consolation for the empty space that now filled her arms.

__________

Seven rang the chime of the Captain’s quarters, and was pleasantly surprised when Kathryn appeared, looking much more rested than the last time Seven had seen her. Seven cut to the chase without even saying hello. "Kathryn," she made her voice impassive, "can we talk about this situation now?"

Janeway nodded. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yes. I would like some apple juice, please." Seven arranged herself on the couch, not sure where to begin this conversation. Kathryn joined her shortly, offering the juice.

"So, how did it go with Isharan?" Kathryn willed her anxiety into submission.

"It was difficult," Seven replied truthfully. "She is an incredible woman, and what she offered me was very tempting. However, she pointed out to me that it made little sense for me to be with her in hopes that one day I would love her, when I already love you."

Janeway’s heartbeat sped up. "She said that? She didn’t try to convince you how happy she could make you?" she probed.

"Surprisingly, Isharan was able to put my needs before her own. As I said, she is an incredible woman."

"And do you agree with her viewpoint?" Janeway bit her lip.

"I agree with her, now. Initially, I argued with her, but she correctly pointed out that my desire to stay with her had more to do with my wounded pride and irrational need to punish you than with her. I could hardly deny it—after all, she is tel-empathic."

Janeway’s eyes grew wide. "You’re kidding me. She actually felt what you were feeling and forced you to face up to it, knowing it could take you away from her?"

"Yes. She told me to forgive you, and let myself believe you have changed your priorities. She told me as a tel-empath, she could feel that your commitment to our success as a couple is sincere. She told me I could trust you."

"And can you trust me, Seven?" Kathryn asked demurely.

"I want to. Isharan told me I should at least give you the chance to prove yourself to me."

Janeway was profoundly moved by Isharan’s capacity to love so selflessly. It made her realize, once more, just how lacking her own love for Seven had been, and how petty her need to protect her own heart. "I want to prove myself to you Seven," she colored with shame at her shortcomings. "Please, give me the opportunity. I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust, and to reclaim my self-respect. Isharan’s example humbles me, makes me painfully aware of how unworthy I am of your love." Tears came to her eyes as she held Seven’s hands, and whispered fiercely "I want to be worthy, Seven. I know I have hurt you, and I have no right to expect you to forgive me. But please don’t give up on me just yet. I love you so," she choked on the words as the tears spilled over. Seven felt her heart relent then, the misgivings fading with each moment she spent looking at the regret in Kathryn’s eyes.

She held Kathryn’s face in her hands, searching those eyes. What she saw closed her throat with love and desire. She pulled the smaller woman to her then, kissing her gently, murmuring "And I love you." She kissed the tears from Kathryn’s cheeks tenderly, lingering over the warm contours of her lovely face, dispelling the sorrow and fear, only to realize her own face was wet with tears, as well.

Soft, comforting kisses gave way to deeper, more insistent ones, and Seven felt her resistance disappear as Kathryn’s mouth opened to hers. Seven responded hungrily then, exploring Kathryn’s lips, her tongue, igniting her passion with fervent surrender to her desire. Kathryn pulled gently at Seven’s bottom lip, eliciting a slight whimper from the back of the young Borg’s throat. The sound of it brought a searing heat to Kathryn’s abdomen, liquid fire that suffused her completely. Seven breathed raggedly, her need quickening as Kathryn sought her throat with barely restrained passion, kissing the long line of Seven’s neck with ardor. Seven tangled her hand in Kathryn’s hair, pressing her love closer against her willing flesh, tilting her head back to allow Kathryn fuller access to the sensitive area. Kathryn nibbled and nipped provocatively, until Seven was clutching at her body and panting. Then slowly she freed Seven’s hair, started to gradually undressed her, letting their arousal intensify as they discovered caresses that brought pleasure, tastes that were perfect and new, and words that incited great longing. Feeling suddenly constrained by the couch, Seven pulled away, rising off the cushions and bringing Kathryn upright with her. She gazed down at her love, whose eyes were dark with desire. "Please," Seven tried not to groan, "take me to your bed, Kathryn," she whispered in her ear. "Make me yours," she breathed.

Silently, Kathryn took her hand, and guided her to the bedroom. Outside the stars streaked by soundlessly, and the illumination was just bright enough for Kathryn to appreciate the stunning beauty of Seven, naked before her and reaching for her to remove her clothes as well. "You are so beautiful, Seven," she murmured appreciatively. Then feeling flesh against flesh, she gasped. "Oh God," she moaned, feeling Seven’s hands on her breasts, arching into the provocative touch. Seven eased her down to the bed, seeing that Kathryn was sharply aroused by Seven’s aggression. She positioned herself carefully so that bare flesh graced bare flesh, but not allowing her full weight to rest on her lover. Kathryn was nearly delerious, the sensations were so overwhelming. Seven sensed her need, but wanted to ease her back from the edge of frenzy, so that she could prolong their first time together.

"Kathryn," she whispered. "Slow down. I want this to last forever."

Kathryn gazed helplessly into passionate blue eyes. "I’m sorry. It’s just been so long for me. It’s probably easier for you to be in control, considering you’ve been with Isharan recently," she explained.

Seven kissed her then, her full lips featherlight upon Kathryn’s. "I have not been with anyone," she argued. "I have never done this."

Janeway was shocked. "But I thought-- "

Seven shook her head. "I cannot say the temptation was entirely absent, but everytime things got, shall we say, heated, I found myself terribly upset and conflicted. Isharan is not you, after all. You are the only individual I ever wanted to share this intimacy with."

That made Kathryn much less desperate to have this woman and have her now. Her excitement was tempered by her desire to make Seven’s first time as wonderful as possible, and she moved their bodies onto their sides so she could pay attention to Seven’s responses, to love her slowly, thoroughly, deliberately. Seven smiled as Kathryn took the upper hand, amused that the slightly built woman would try to physically dominate her, but touched by the love that was behind the absurdity.

Kathryn kissed her deeply then, communicating her love silently, eloquently. With glancing touches and subtle movement against her partner’s body, she fueled the fire building in her lover's belly, and was rewarded by growing moisture bathing her thigh. Seven’s head fell back as she bared her throat to Kathryn’s mouth, the elegant line of her neck inviting tentative exploration, then more insistent kisses and gentle bites. Seven felt heat and tingling everywhere at once, and a delicious ache centered between her legs. Kathryn showered attention on every inch of her flesh with fleeting kisses, delicate fingertips tracing light trails from breasts to thighs, until Seven was certain she would scream if Kathryn did not release her from the need. But when she could take no more, Kathryn gave more, her velvet mouth encircling Seven’s nipple, forcing a groan from her chest.

Seven watched in rapt attention as Kathryn’s tongue fluttered against her, driving her to arch upward for fuller contact, and gasping as a thigh pressed into her folds. The friction pushed her to the edge as Kathryn rocked her hips against Seven’s with maddening intensity. Seven gripped the sheets with her free hand, her other hand holding Kathryn’s head to her breast, and finally convulsing against her lover. She whimpered softly as the ripples broke over her. Kathryn kissed a warm trail from Seven’s engorged nipples to her fragrant folds, the liquid heat of her mouth enclosing Seven’s sex in such a shocking sensation that Seven sat upright. Kathryn explored her lips with teasing strokes, slipped her fingers inside welcoming walls, and felt another climax tear through her lover. Seven was writhing now, legs tucked up against her buttocks, hips rising with every entrance of Kathryn’s fingers. Kathryn sucked the small bundle of nerves into her mouth, trapping it with her lips, and flicking at it with lightning quick movements of her tongue. Seven was in the throes of a release that seemed to come from the deepest core of her being, crying out with every movement of Kathryn’s relentless pleasuring. Kathryn murmured into her flesh, reveling in the sounds Seven made, holding tightly to Seven’s thighs to keep her mouth protectively surrounding the sensitive node, riding out the crest of that electric wave with her. When the shudders died down, Kathryn moved to hold Seven close to her, whispering comforting words, reassurances of love and commitment.

Exhausted, Seven clung to the older woman, spent but smiling against Kathryn’s shoulder. "Kathryn?"

"Yes?"

"The answer is yes," Seven whispered.

"What was the question, love?" Kathryn couldn’t remember having asked anything.

"Think about it," Seven teased. "If you remember the question, then my answer will still be yes. If you cannot remember, who knows? I might forget as well."

Breathing deeply, Janeway relaxed into Seven, momentarily preoccupied with the vague conversation. Seven moved them over again, once more suspended above her beloved, kissing her fiercely and reaching down to grasp an erect nipple, rolling it between her fully human thumb and index finger, feeling it tighten even more beneath her touch. Kathryn’s quick intake of breath made a hissing sound as Seven fondled her, and she could no longer think about the strange conversation, or anything at all but the desire raging through her. Seven, for all her inexperience, instinctively knew what Kathryn required, and gave it fully. Janeway’s lengthy sexual deprivation drove her to a rapid, thundering orgasm, but Seven stayed with her, starting the dance again as soon as the wave subsided. "My beautiful Kathryn," Seven whispered hoarsley as Kathryn’s muscled walls spasmed around her fingers, "tell me what you want. Teach me," she begged.

"I want…I want you to love me with your mouth," Kathryn fought the needless shyness that voicing her desires inspired. Seven happily obliged her wish, several times that night. When the lights came up for morning watch, Seven took mercy upon her lover, and allowed her to rest. Janeway collapsed in the loving circle of her arms, then, her heart pounding so hard the bed registered it. She eased into unconsciousness very slowly, her senses bombarded by cool metal mesh, warm human flesh, peace, and joy. She was almost asleep as her brain jolted her awake again. She had asked Seven to marry her. That was the question.

She abruptly sat up, looking hopefully at the placid face of a smugly amused Borg. "The answer is yes?" she asked, holding her breath.

Seven laughed, the happiness rumbling in her chest. "Yes," she said with the most dazzling smile, blue eyes sparkling with love and affection for this incredible woman who had restored her world to her. "I think a celebration that the whole crew could attend would be fitting, considering how many have tried to bring us to our senses," she chuckled. "B’Elanna gave me the ass chewing of a lifetime at the banquet," Seven admitted.

Janeway started. Seven had used a slang term. She decided it sounded adorable coming from her Borg. "She did?"

Seven assented. "She told me I should fight for you. She called me a ‘pathetic heap of half-assed metal’, proclaimed she could not understand what you see in me, and pronounced me a callous bitch for breaking your heart. It was a most admirable display of her loyalty and love for you, Kathryn."

Janeway snickered appreciatively. "Damn, those Klingon women can make a stink. Did her words make you reconsider?"

"Of course. And also, the way that Ensign Kim protectively sought you out when you were pitifully gazing at Isharan and I."

"Harry took good care of me," Kathryn confirmed. "He is a sweet young man who will make a fine Captain and husband, someday. He saved me that night, you know. I have never been so miserable in my life—not when I was tortured by the Cardassians, not when Justin and Daddy died, not when we got stuck in the Delta Quadrant, not even when you tried to return to the Borg. The loss of you was so real to me in that moment, seeing you laugh engagingly at her jokes, and touching her so publicly, I really believed I would die. I wanted to. I have never walked out of a diplomatic function in my life, Seven. I could hardly support my weight on my legs, I was so devastated," she confessed, tears coming to her eyes. "I knew then I had to be with you to survive, but I didn’t dare hope you’d ever offer yourself to me again."

"I never could stay angry with you, Kathryn," Seven kissed her forehead. "Although I tried to, and I wanted to. As always, my love for you is too powerful to resist."

Kathryn kissed her gently then. "Are you saying resistance is futile?"

"Indeed."

"So you want to remain on Voyager?" Kathryn tried not to betray her desire to do just that.

"I believe you will be happier here than if we were to stay on Yamal. You belong here, Kathryn. You thrive in this environment. I love you too much to let you sacrifice all that you have worked for. I do not believe you would be happy on Yamal. Eventually, you would be bored, and that would make you resent me for stranding you there. I am willing to go with you on Voyager, provided you agree to my terms. And provided that you understand, I will not hide our relationship. I will not pretend you are merely my Captain, I will not let you neglect me out of some absurd loyalty to protocol, and I will not allow you to engage in self-destructive behavior. I will, however, defer to your command authority in the appropriate context, and I will not expect to be treated differently than the rest of the crew when it comes to duties, away missions, or dangerous circumstances. In short, I expect you to separate Captain Janeway from Kathryn Janeway in our personal lives," she paused to catch her breath. "Will you agree to those terms?"

"Yes, I will," she promised, taking Seven’s hands. "We had better advise Chakotay, and see if he’ll give me back my pips," she teased.

Seven frowned. "I am afraid, Kathryn, that the Commander may have already hired someone for my job. I resigned quite some time ago."

Janeway smiled devilishly. "No you didn’t," she retorted. "I never processed the resignation. Just as I suspect Chakotay did not process mine. It’s an old Starfleet tradition not to actually sign the orders until the person has disembarked. Saves having to reinstate them later if they change their mind."

Seven smiled approvingly. "Most efficient, Captain," she praised the elder officer.

"There’s something else, Seven. I want to do this right, and not put both of us through any more suffering. I’d like to take a leave of absence together, so we can concentrate on each other long enough to establish a foundation for our relationship. I was thinking at least a month. Is that acceptable?"

"Very acceptable," Seven replied, a broad smile lighting up her face. "Your desire to take time together demonstrates that you have really changed your priorities."

Kathryn touched Seven’s cheek, caressing the rosy softness with the back of her hand. "You deserve a partner who will put you first. If I ever do less, you should throw me out an airlock, Seven."

The Borg smiled mischievously. "I will remind you of that advice, someday," she teased.

____________

Chakotay paced the length of the ready room in long, powerful strides, muttering to himself. He did not want to command Voyager. He did not even want to think about what Janeway’s resignation would do to morale. In only 24 hours, the scuttlebutt had reached epic proportions. Janeway was leaving. Seven was marrying Isharan. Janeway would duel to the death for Seven. Isharan had asked both women to marry her. Chakotay growled. He had yet to address the ridiculous gossip with the crew, but if something didn’t give soon, the damage would be done without respect to the actual facts.

Finally, the ready room doors opened, and Kathryn arrived at the predetermined time, Seven of Nine in tow.

"Captain, Seven," Chakotay acknowledged them. Without even offering them a seat, he blurted out "Please tell me you’re staying and let me give you back your damned pips." He sounded desperate.

"Is Seven’s job still there for her?" Janeway asked.

"Of course," he smiled, guiding the statuesque Borg to a chair. "Hell, I’ll give her a promotion, if you want, as long as you both come back."

Kathryn smiled, took Seven’s hand, and addressed Chakotay, although her eyes never left Seven’s face. "Seven and I would like to remain aboard. But we need some time alone together. I promised her a month without interruption by duty, or ship’s business. If the crew can accommodate a leave of absence, we’d be pleased to stay. If not, we completely understand that it is a lot to ask, and we will remain on Yamal," Kathryn explained.

Chakotay breathed a sigh of relief. "I can juggle the duty roster to give you the time. God knows you’ve both accrued enough personal leave for six months, if you insisted. And I’m sure the crew will be willing to give up holodeck privileges to accommodate your leave. Anything else?"

Seven broke in. "Yes, commander. Kathryn and I would like to start our leave of absence with a celebration for the whole crew," she smiled broadly, squeezing Janeway’s hand.

Chakotay figured as much, but wanted to make Janeway say it. "Oh? What sort of celebration, Captain?" he asked innocently.

Janeway shot him a glare. "We’re celebrating a miracle," Janeway said dryly. "Seven has agreed to marry me."

Chakotay agreed. "That is a miracle, Captain," he teased. Then enthusiastically hugging them both, he added "Congratulations, ladies."

"Thank you," Seven was beaming.

"I must say, Captain, I’m impressed," Chakotay commented. "First you admitting you were wrong, and now, getting married. And taking time off--a whole month," he whistled appreciatively. "Are you sure you’re Kathryn Janeway, and not some alien life form who just looks like her?"

Seven smirked. "Oh, believe me, she is not an alien. Rather, all human, and definitely all woman," her voice dripped innuendo.

Chakotay actually blushed at the knowing tone. "Ahem, well, let me make the arrangements." Then, playfully "Whatever will you do to fill a whole month of free time?"

Kathryn smiled fondly at the love of her life, blue eyes meeting paler blue eyes. "I have a lot of apologizing to do, Commander, enough to fill several months of free time," she grinned. "Anything less, and there’s an airlock with my name on it."

Chakotay laughed. "Understood," he said with a grin. "Well, now, let me get Neelix in here. We’ve got a wedding to plan. Shall we wait until after the wedding to break orbit, or would you rather not risk some Kai’ Yamalian beaming up to object during the ceremony?"

Janeway glared playfully at him. "We’re cutting that part of the ceremony out," she deadpanned. Then sincerely, she leaned toward Seven. "Do you want to invite Isharan, or anyone else from Yamal?"

Seven smiled sweetly. "I think it best to lay in a course for the Alpha Quadrant. I am certain Isharan knows everything, already."

Janeway considered. "Yes, I suppose you’re right."

Chakotay tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to helm. Prepare to leave orbit. Lay in a course for the Alpha Quadrant, warp six." He smiled at the two lovers, who were too lost in each other to notice him. He tapped his comm badge again. "Chakotay to Neelix."

"Yes, Commander?" Neelix chirped.

"Neelix, could you please come to the Captain’s ready room? There’s a young couple here that wants to plan a wedding, and needs your assistance."

"Splendid, Commander!! To whom do I owe congratulations?" he bubbled with delight.

"That would be Seven and I, Neelix," Kathryn called out over the comm link. "Of course," she said to her two companions under her breath "it will be all over the ship within seconds, if I know Neelix."

Seven was stunned that Kathryn had, without hesitation, offered the news to Neelix. Somehow she had expected the Captain mode to assert itself, and doubted that Kathryn would let the news out until the last minute.

"Congratulations, Captain! Congratulations Seven! Oh, this is going to be such a celebration!" he rambled, rattling off details as if to himself as he sprinted for the ready room.

Seven squeezed Kathryn’s hand, beaming. "Somehow," she said proudly, "I do not think I will be needing that airlock, after all."