Summary: Sequel to Raising Naomi. Seven and Kathryn tie the knot. Naomi gets kidnapped. B'Elanna Torres dumps helmboy. Voyager gets a counselor.

CODES: J/7, T/f RATING: R for sex [yeeehaaaaw!], nudity, Seven kicking ass, some medical gore, a bit of strong language, and a little Paris abuse. Oh, and 'cause an alien gets it in the 'nads.

DISCLAIMER: Kieran Thompson is mine, MINE I tell you, MHUAHUAHUA! The rest o’ the babefest belongs to Paramount. Lucky, lucky Paramount. Lucky Brannon Braga. See Brannon. See Brannon date Jeri. See fandom seethe with envy. I’m not earning any replicator rations, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don’t sue me. I’d have to use my dog for the lawyer’s retainer fee.

 

Rescuing Naomi

By Ensign Mika

 

Seven of Nine, formerly the Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One of the Borg Collective, stretched like a Terkalian cat, drowsy from the warmth of the sun high overhead. This little planet, which the crew of the U.S.S. Voyager had christened ‘Tampa’ for its Florida-like beaches, was the perfect place for shore leave.

Seven lifted herself up on her elbows, gazing at her companions through dark sunglasses, watching her fiancée romping in the water with her foster daughter. She surveyed her lover appreciatively, noting every pleasing curve and soft slope of flesh, admiring her firm stomach and well muscled legs. Kathryn had lost some of the pallor that comes from extended periods in space, and Seven was intrigued by the change in her partner’s complexion. This ‘tan’, as Kathryn called it, made the older woman nearly as dark as B’Elanna Torres. Seven felt a delicious chill as she considered the fact that beneath the two piece swim suit Janeway wore, the tender, paler flesh stood out in sharp relief against the darker surrounding skin. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering how Kathryn had looked that morning as she crept out of their bed.

Captain Kathryn Janeway splashed playfully in the surf, helping their daughter Naomi keep her footing as the waves crashed into them. Naomi Wildman, age six, was grateful for the steadying hand of her surrogate mother that kept her from losing her balance in the undertow. Janeway was demonstrating how to steel her smaller body against the tide, and Naomi was watching intently with the gravest expression on her face. Seven smiled fondly at the girl, amused at the seriousness with which she approached her task. Naomi was ‘growing like a weed’, as Commander Chakotay had said. Her strawberry-blond hair had bleached to a shimmering golden-white in the week they had been on the planet’s surface, and the freckles that had been so subtle were now much more pronounced. Seven loved the two women with all her heart. There were no words to express her gratitude for the gift of their presence in her life, although she wished she could make the attempt with Naomi’s real mother.

Samantha Wildman was in deep medical stasis, a sort of cryogenic suspended animation that sustained her physiology and prevented her body’s further deterioration. Samantha had been critically injured on an away mission, and after six months in a coma, the Doctor and Naomi had agreed that deep stasis was the best option, since no miracle treatment had presented itself. When the accident left the half-human, half-Ktarian child without a family, Janeway and Seven had taken custody of the frightened girl, and together, the three had forged a uniquely strong bond. It was that bond that had allowed Janeway to embrace her deeper romantic feelings for Seven. It was that bond that made possible their transition from Captain/subordinate officer to equal partners who were completely in love.

Seven felt the warmth filling her chest, definitely not from the sun overhead. This week long vacation had been their gift to Naomi in anticipation of their wedding and the week long honeymoon they would be taking without the girl. Neelix, Voyager’s Talaxian head cook and morale officer, would be babysitting Naomi for the duration of the newlyweds’ absence. Seven’s stomach quivered nervously at the thought of the ceremony, which was only hours away. Her eyes misted briefly as she watched her lover, this delicate, beautiful woman whose heart had been entrusted to her for all time. Seven redoubled her resolve to be worthy of that trust, and to be ever mindful of just how precious a gift it truly was. Kathryn’s hair glistened in the bright light, the rich red highlights glinting amongst the auburn, framing a face that had become youthful and joyful again after so many years of solitude. Seven felt a swelling of pride as she reminded herself that she was at least, in part, responsible for that transformation in the Captain’s countenance. Her desire to touch her intended overpowered her lazy contentment, and compelled her to join her companions in the water. She tossed her sunglasses on her beach towel as she headed toward them.

"That’s it, Naomi," Kathryn was encouraging the delighted child, who had learned to withstand the impact of the waves under Janeway’s instruction. "Very good." Janeway was startled as she was forcefully grabbed and propelled in a circle, coming face to face with her lover, who kissed her with a heat and intensity that made her knees buckle. She relented willingly, meeting Seven’s ardor with her own, their lips searching breathlessly as they kissed. Naomi watched, wide-eyed. She had rarely seen her mothers indulge their passion this way, and was fascinated by the strength of their intimacy. Reluctantly, the two women broke their embrace, although Seven held Kathryn’s shoulders to keep her from stumbling.

"What was that about?" Kathryn grinned at her taller partner.

Seven kissed her forehead. "I was just overwhelmed by the sight of you," she murmured. "And I was thinking about how fortunate I am to be loved by you," her voice was husky, rough with emotion.

Janeway touched her beloved’s cheek with her fingertips, swallowing hard. "I feel the same," she added quietly. "Do you realize that this time, tomorrow, we’ll be married?"

Seven wrapped her arms around her then, pulling her close. "That was what I was thinking about when I suddenly could not stand to be—not touching you," she groped for the proper explanation. "I love you so much," she squeezed her tightly.

"And I love you," Janeway replied, looking up into the palest blue eyes she had ever seen. She traced the outline of Seven’s ocular implant with a gentle fingertip, loving the contrast of metal against flesh and loving that which was uniquely Seven.

Seven closed her eyes and leaned into the caress. "You have no idea how much I want you right now," she kept her voice low so that only Kathryn could hear.

Janeway leaned her head against Seven’s shoulder. "I bet I do," she argued, trembling. "But darling, we aren’t alone," she added in a whisper.

Naomi was still observing them, much to Janeway’s consternation. Kathryn glanced down at her curious daughter, wondering what Naomi was thinking.

"Captain," Naomi said finally, "I’m kinda hungry. If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll beam back to Voyager and have some lunch."

"Are you sure, Naomi? Seven and I could come with you," she offered.

"It’s okay. You guys probably have things to talk about—for tomorrow, I mean," she smiled at her Captain with a look that could only be described as ‘knowing’. Then as if she had read Janeway’s mind, she added "I might take a nap, too, so don’t worry if I’m gone a couple of hours."

Seven’s left eyebrow shot up. Naomi, like most children, never voluntarily took a nap. Seven’s usual candor asserted itself. "Naomi Wildman," she said in a neutral tone. "Are you returning to Voyager on our account?"

Naomi grinned. "It’s okay, Seven. Mommy told me that sometimes, grownups have to have time together without their kids around. I’ve been in your hair a whole week," she admitted.

Seven’s brow furrowed. "You have never touched my hair, Naomi," she said seriously.

Janeway laughed. "She means she’s been in our way," she explained the vernacular. Then dropping to the sand on her knees, Janeway put her hands on Naomi’s shoulders. "You have not been in our way, Naomi. I’ve had a wonderful time this week, and I love you—you could never be in the way," she reassured her daughter, hugging her then. "Please don’t think Seven or I would ever want to be rid of you. Nothing could be further from the truth."

Naomi hugged her back. "I know you love me, Kathryn. I love you too. But sometimes, I enjoy playing with you, just the two of us. So I figured sometimes you’d like to play alone with Seven, just the two of you," she explained with the innocence only a child could embody.

Seven smiled adoringly at the girl. "Your keen insight never fails to amaze me, Naomi. You seem to be able to put things into words that I never could." She took the little girl’s hand. "But Kathryn is correct. Neither she nor I wish you to be anywhere other than right here, with us," she kissed the girl’s hand. "I am going to miss you terribly," she added, kneeling and pulling both her companions into a hug.

Naomi hugged them both. Then with a surprising air of maturity, she comforted the Borg by saying "Don’t worry, Seven. It’s only a week. You’ll be too busy having fun on your honeymoon to miss me, honest."

Seven kissed the crown of Naomi’s head. "You are mistaken," she said softly. "There is nothing that could distract me to the point that I would be too busy to miss you. You have no idea how attached I am to you, Naomi Wildman."

That response pleased the little girl immensely, her face aglow from the uncharacteristic vulnerability of the Borg.

"Now," Kathryn cleared her throat, thinking this discourse was becoming a bit maudlin, "let’s all go back to Voyager and get some lunch. And afterward, if you feel like you want to take a nap, Naomi, then we’ll all take a nap."

Grinning ear to ear, glad that her presence wasn’t an intrusion after all, the little girl responded in her most Borg-like tone. "That would be acceptable."

________________

Holodeck 2 had been programmed to Seven of Nine’s exacting specifications so that the wedding could be held in a garden setting, which approximated the back yard of Janeway’s family home in Indiana. The yard was bordered by rose bushes on either side, and around the perimeter stood a variety of native species of trees: Pin Oak, Maple, Sweet Gum, Shagbark Hickory, Slippery Elm, Hardy Catalpa, and Tulip Poplars, all green and lush as if it were June. The grove of trees provided a shady area where tables were erected for the reception.

A sea of white wooden folding chairs adorned the lawn, set in careful rows with an aisle up the center, which led to a trellis adorned with ivy. The latticework arch would serve as the focal point of the service where the vows would be exchanged. On either side of the trellis stood a row of pedestals that held silver vases, filled with white roses, greenery, and baby’s breath. Behind the floral arrangement on the right, a string quartet played Pachelbel’s Canon as the guests arrived.

Tuvok, dressed in Vulcan ceremonial robes, stood beneath the trellis, signaling for the participants to take their places. He, being the eldest member of the crew, had volunteered to perform the ritual for his Captain and his friend.

Janeway had considered wearing civilian clothes for the ceremony, but had finally decided that her command was as much a part of her life as Seven, and that the Starfleet Dress Uniform was appropriate. B’Elanna had convinced her to change the styling of the uniform slightly, so that the fabric was white, with command red trim at the cuffs, and red piping across the shoulders, chest, and placket. She stood beside Chakotay, waiting for Seven to join her. The Doctor escorted Seven to the Captain, as the quartet played the traditional bridal march. Janeway’s breath caught in her throat as she watched her love approaching. Seven wore her hair down, with a delicate headband of tiny yellow and white flowers holding the golden tresses back from her face, which was alight with happiness. Her elegant white dress had a scooped neckline on the sleeveless bodice that gathered at her tiny waist, and flowed in straight lines from there without clinging. She appeared to float on a cloud rather than walk, although Janeway was certain it was just her imagination. Seven held the Doctor’s arm as they walked in time to the music, eyes fixed on Kathryn, smiling warmly at her lover. There were more than a few envious murmurs in the crowd as the stunning vision that was Seven walked the length of the aisle.

Chakotay leaned over and whispered in Kathryn’s ear "Yes, she is beautiful, but don’t forget to breathe, Kathryn."

Kathryn swallowed hard, nodding, then held out her hands to Seven, who handed her bouquet to Naomi, who stood with her. Seven took Kathryn’s hands and stood facing her, gazing intently into blue gray eyes, smiling reassurance to the trembling Captain. Janeway wasn’t frightened, but she was certainly overcome by the love she felt for this woman. She felt herself on the verge of tears without knowing why, except that Seven was so breathtaking, she assumed it was the perfection of her beauty that moved her.

"Friends," Tuvok began, "we have gathered today to witness the joining of two souls in matrimony, a state that transcends space and time, culture and custom, and which unites two destinies into one. Marriage is a commitment that must be undertaken only after careful consideration and with the utmost sincerity of intention. It is with that sincerity of intention that Kathryn and Annika have gathered in the presence of their friends and loved ones to declare their love and commitment to each other." Tuvok paused for effect. "They have prepared vows they wish to exchange before this assembly."

Kathryn took a deep breath, looking up at Seven.

"I have been alone and incomplete my entire life. I didn’t even know it, until I found you.

In your love I have learned what it is to be whole.

In your embrace I have learned what it is to be desired.

In your surrender I have learned what it is to give myself to another.

In your laughter I have learned what it is to feel joy.

In your devotion, I have learned what it is to be cherished.

In your eyes, I see a reflection of myself that is far more than I can ever hope to become.

Because you love me, I have learned what it is to be human.

All that I am or shall ever be, I will be because you taught me. Because you loved me," she choked on the last sentence as a single tear slipped down her face, followed by several more.

Seven unconsciously cupped Kathryn’s face in her hand, brushing the tears away with her thumb, oblivious to the audience that watched as the customarily tough-as-nails Captain wept with tenderness.

Seven smiled affectionately at her beloved, still holding Kathryn’s face in her hand as she spoke.

"I was an insignificant drone until you rescued me.

I was one among many, unable to feel my humanity amid the clamor of billions of voices.

In your love I have learned what it is to be separate, yet whole.

In your embrace I have learned that desire is relevant.

In your surrender I have learned the futility of conquest and the purpose of giving.

In your laughter I have learned the importance of humor and the joy it brings.

In your devotion I have learned what it is to be deemed worthy.

In your eyes I see that I am not an insignificant drone, but a vibrant, vital woman.

Because you love me, I have become human.

All that I am or shall ever be, I will be because you taught me. Because you loved me."

Tuvok was perplexed at the number of crewmembers who were crying, men and women alike. He tried not to let his eyebrow shoot up too dramatically. He cleared his throat quietly.

"Kathryn Janeway, do you promise to love, honor, and cherish Annika Hansen in all things for the rest of your life: For better, or for worse, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others for the fidelity of marriage?" Tuvok queried.

"I do," Janeway affirmed, holding Seven’s hands again and gazing confidently up at her.

"Annika Hansen, do you promise to love, honor, and cherish Kathryn Janeway in all things for the rest of your life: For better, or for worse, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others for the fidelity of marriage?" Tuvok repeated.

"I do," Seven promised with a smile that melted Janeway’s heart.

Naomi stepped forward, offering a small velvet pillow that held two shimmering bands of platinum.

Without prompting, Kathryn took the larger of the two rings. She took Seven’s left hand in her right, and with her left hand, placed the ring on Seven’s finger. She once again peered into her lover’s eyes, saying "In token and in pledge of my constant faith and abiding love, with this ring I give to you all that I am and all that I shall ever be."

Seven repeated the ritual, her ice blue eyes conveying more love than Kathryn could contain.

"In token and in pledge of my constant faith and abiding love, with this ring I give to you all that I am and all that I shall ever be."

Tuvok nodded. "By the authority vested in me by the United Federation of Planets, I now pronounce you married. You may seal your vows with a kiss."

Kathryn grinned shyly, but Seven was having none of that reticence. She gathered Kathryn into her arms and kissed her deeply, passionately, until she had to support her spouse’s weight as her legs failed her. When they parted, Kathryn looked stricken. "I’m going to get you for that," she gasped in Seven’s ear as the crew stood and cheered.

Chakotay grinned broadly, and turned to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Kathryn and Annika Hansen-Janeway. Ladies," he bowed to them, "the first dance is yours."

And dance, they did, their feet as light as their hearts and as sure as the love that resonated from them. The reception became a lively party as couples paired off to dance, and a steady stream of well wishers accosted the newlyweds to kiss the brides, offer congratulations, or counsel them with the sage advice gleaned from their own marital experiences. Then Naomi whisked them away to cut the wedding cake. Champagne flowed freely, and Chakotay initiated what seemed to be an endless string of toasts to the couple. By the time the happy duo had opened the last of their wedding gifts, they were both exhausted and ready to slip out of the holodeck for more private surroundings.

Tom Paris, obviously tipsy from the long list of toasts, shouted for everyone’s attention. When the crowd quieted down, he announced "Captain, Seven—there has been a betting pool, almost since the day Seven came on board, regarding your relationship. The betting got pretty heavy over the last year," he chuckled, pleased with himself. "We all decided that instead of declaring a winner in the pool, we would take all the ration slips that were bet and get you two a nice wedding present, from the whole crew." He knew Janeway would not be amused by the fact that people had been speculating about her love life, so he hurried on. "With the ration slips from the pool, we replicated a little honeymoon retreat for you on Tampa. We hope you both enjoy it." He tapped his comm badge. "Transporter room? Beam the Captain and her wife down to the honeymoon coordinates," he barked.

They materialized on the beach, where the sun was setting gloriously over the water. Janeway glanced over her shoulder, then spun to see a quaint log cabin that had not been there the day before. "Will you look at that," she said in wonder, smiling. She took Seven’s hand and led her inside, where there was a living area, a dining area, a kitchen, and behind a doorway, a bedroom with a very large bed. There was a fireplace in the room, and an adjoining bathroom with an old-fashioned, custom sized claw foot tub. "That must’ve been one hell of a pool," Janeway noted wryly, taking it all in with darting glances.

"Indeed," Seven murmured, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift. "Kathryn, look," she started toward the kitchen. The counter was replete with several days worth of prepared food and several bottles of wine. There was a handwritten note beside the feast.

Dear Moms:

I wanted to do something for you both to make your honeymoon more
special. B’Elanna helped me program the replicator so you won’t have
to eat Neelix’ cooking for awhile. I love you both. Have a great time.

Your devoted daughter,

Naomi Wildman

Seven read the note twice, then stifled a sob with her hand. "That is the sweetest thing she has ever done for us," she noted, trying not to cry. "Kathryn, I am confused."

Janeway held her possessively, kissing her flowing blond hair. "About what, love?"

"I did not expect today to be so—emotionally draining," she replied. "I have felt like crying so many times today."

Janeway drew her over to the couch, removed Seven’s shoes, and poured them both a glass of wine. "Me too," she admitted, settling down beside her spouse. "But that’s a testament to the strength of our feelings for each other and for our friends and family."

"Did you notice that B’Elanna and Neelix and Harry were also crying?" Seven leaned her head back against the wall, sighing.

"I can’t say I did, but I was pretty busy with my own emotions, at the time," she noted with amusement. "It is very natural though, darling. Sharing our feelings for each other in front of all those people, and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable—that is a touching display to witness, and that’s why people cry at weddings. It is moving to them to see such depth of emotion."

"Well, in Harry’s case, he may have been crying for other reasons," she teased. Ensign Kim’s attraction to the Borg officer had been public knowledge for years.

Janeway smirked. "Tough luck for him," she said without sympathy, "but you’re mine now. He’ll have to live with the regret that when he had the chance to copulate with you, he blew it."

Seven’s eyebrow shot up. "You know about that?"

Kathryn chuckled. "The whole ship knows about that. Harry has taken a lot of grief for his momentary lapse in hormones, not to mention his backbone," she confided with a wicked grin. Then forcing herself up, she held out her hand to Seven. "I don’t know about you, but I would like to get out of this get-up and into something more comfortable. Although you do look wonderful, my love," she added, taking a lingering gander at her partner.

"I would appreciate a change of clothing, as well," Seven agreed, taking the proffered hand and standing up. "In fact, I believe you made reference, once, to spending most of our honeymoon naked," she flirted. "Perhaps you would prefer no clothing at all?"

Janeway kissed her soundly. "I like the way you think," she slid her hands down to Seven’s perfect buttocks, squeezing them suggestively. "Would you join me in a hot bubble bath?"

"That would be acceptable," Seven agreed. "Perhaps we will be less tired after we soak ourselves."

"I’ll run the bath. Why don’t you bring along something to snack on, while we bathe? I have a feeling I’m going to need my strength," Janeway winked at her spouse.

________________

 

Ensconced in bubbles to her chin, Janeway leaned back against the lean, lanky form of her mate, who instantly wrapped her arms around Kathryn’s nakedness and began nuzzling her ear. Her exhaustion drained away as her arousal sparked in response to Seven’s kisses along the curve of her neck and across her shoulder. Seven knew her lover well enough to know that it took very little in the way of persuasion to get Kathryn in the mood, especially when they could be alone. Seven fully intended to make the most of their week alone together, since it was rare that they could make love whenever or wherever they wanted. Seven decided she wanted to start then and there, in the bathtub. Janeway could think of no good reason to resist, other than the fact that they would end up sloshing water over the sides of the tub as their lovemaking became more vigorous.

Once their fingers had turned prune-like, they abandoned the bathtub, wrapped themselves in towels, and ate some of the dinner Naomi had given them. Seven was feeding Kathryn bites of wedding cake with her fingers, and Kathryn was avidly sucking the icing from Seven’s fingertips. Seven’s breathing quickened as she watched her fingers disappear into Kathryn’s mouth, and her thoughts turned to making her fingers disappear elsewhere. She withdrew them slowly, replacing them with her lips, then her tongue as Kathryn’s lips parted once again. Seven tasted heat, a trace of icing, and the soft contours of Kathryn’s mouth, groaning as she felt Kathryn’s hands loosening her towel.

She gathered the smaller woman into her arms without breaking the kiss, carrying her to their bed, remembering some ancient earth custom about carrying one’s wife over the threshold. She gently laid Kathryn on the expansive mattress, covering the older woman’s body with her own, but not with the full weight of her Borg enhanced anatomy. She pressed against Kathryn with her pelvis, which caused Kathryn to gasp. Seven pulled the thick terry cloth towel away from Kathryn’s slightly built frame, marveling at her body. "You are stunning," Seven whispered, looking up and down the length of Janeway’s form.

Kathryn shivered under the lustful gaze, her desire pulsing between her legs. Seven kissed her ardently, rolling them over so that Kathryn lay on top of her sturdier body and began softly kneading Kathryn’s firm behind. Seven felt the telltale moisture that had started to make its way from Kathryn’s thighs to Seven’s belly, as her fingers teased the crease of Kathryn’s buttocks, tickling the puckered area with a motion that drove Kathryn mad, but where she had never entered her. Seven reached further, stroking the folds of tender flesh that protected Kathryn’s sex.

"Oh, Seven," she gasped, "please—I need—I—oh God!" she cried out as Seven’s long, thin fingers penetrated her deeply, the walls pulling her in, welcoming and wet.

"Yes, my Kathryn, tell me what you want," Seven urged her as she thrust repeatedly into the warmth of her lover. Seven eased them to their sides, sliding Kathryn’s leg over her Borg implanted hip, still penetrating Kathryn’s fevered opening, but also enabling her free hand to stroke the taut nub of flesh that protruded invitingly. When Seven dropped her mouth to encircle a pale pink nipple, Kathryn’s body went immediately rigid as she climaxed forcefully, moaning uncontrollably as the peak came and went, then came yet again. Seven held her as the spasms hit her, eased her through the most intense part of it, then took her into the circle of her arms, cradling and soothing, whispering words of comfort and commitment.

"Do you know what you do to me?" came the muffled inquiry. "You reduce me to desperate begging," she snuggled into the safety of Seven’s shoulder.

Seven’s soft laughter rumbled deep in her chest. "I do not reduce you to anything. I provoke you because I love the sound of your pleasure."

"Mmmm…well, I’m sure there’s much more pleasure than the sounds indicate." She propped herself up to look at her beloved with half-lidded eyes. "You know, when you came down the aisle today, you were so enchanting, I actually heard people gasp in awe."

Seven rolled her eyes. "Flatterer," she accused.

"I am not," Janeway protested. "I swear, there were audible gasps. I was so taken by the sight of you, Chakotay had to remind me to breathe," she argued.

"You exaggerate, my love, but thank you," Seven stroked her cheek lovingly.

"Hmmph," Janeway was peeved. "You’ll see when the Doctor’s holoimages are posted. You’ll see the envious expressions of the audience and you will owe me an apology."

Seven pounced on her, tickling her ribs. "When you see all those impassive faces in the crowd, then it will be you who must apologize," she insisted, pinning Kathryn with her weight.

Playful tickling gave way quickly to languid caresses as Kathryn returned the attention Seven had lavished upon her moments before. Seven hovered over her, eyes dark with arousal, arching her back as Kathryn stroked her nipples. Silently, Kathryn arranged Seven’s limbs as she fondled her, placing Seven’s knees on either side of her hips. Seven’s mouth dropped open as her eyes closed, unbidden, in response to Kathryn’s gentle fingers exploring her wetness. Her body moved in rhythm with Kathryn’s caress, and just as she was about to claim her release, Kathryn disappeared, sliding down the length of the bed until Seven was straddling her face. The unexpected warmth and velvet softness of Kathryn’s mouth surrounding her made Seven sharply cry out her lover’s name, partly in surprise and partly in ecstasy, and then again as Kathryn entered her ever so slowly, easing her finger into Seven and feeling Seven’s immediate contraction around the base of the digit. She hung on that edge until her moans became sobs, and Kathryn intensified the pressure of her tongue to bring Seven’s release.

Seven’s mouth had gone completely dry from her labored breathing. She reached for the champagne that had been forgotten on the night stand, taking a long draught from the fluted glass. Kathryn picked that particular moment to move, bumping Seven’s elbow, causing her to spill the champagne on Kathryn’s stomach. Obligingly, Seven licked the splatters from her beloved’s firm abdominal muscles, as Kathryn’s sharp intake of breath delighted the curious Borg. Seven sipped the carbonated liquid, holding a bit in her mouth, then took Kathryn’s nipple between her lips, letting the bubbles caress the tightening flesh. Kathryn watched her lover, intrigued by the young woman’s enthusiasm as she spilled champagne into Kathryn’s navel, down the flat surface of her abdomen, and finally, into her soft auburn thatch, where it sparkled like dew.

Seven descended the trail of liquid, lapping it up as she followed the path, feeling Kathryn’s anticipation of the final destination of her tongue. Seven adored making love to Kathryn, especially in this manner, her mouth eager for the taste of her slick folds, her tongue probing the edge of her opening, her arms wrapped tightly around Kathryn’s thighs to keep her from wriggling away. She teased her mercilessly, repeatedly taking long, slow strokes from her perineum to her engorged clitoris, making her wait for what she desperately wanted. She kissed and nibbled netherlips damp with honey, reveling in the sounds of Kathryn’s passion which quickly bordered delirium. Kathryn’s head was thrown back, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat as Seven devoured her, bringing her to the edge of her peak, only to retreat and ease her down again, until she could take no more. Seven entered her then, providing the anchor she needed for the impending explosion as her muscles tightened around three provocative fingers that curled sensuously inside her. Rocking her hips against the mouth that possessed her, Kathryn’s moans came in tandem with the motion of Seven’s tongue. Seven felt her own sex throbbing in time with each gasp emanating from Kathryn’s throat, her body inadvertently pressing against the mattress beneath her, pleasuring herself as well as her lover. Kathryn’s hands were in her golden hair, as if to keep her from escaping. As her back arched toward climax, she begged Seven not to stop this time, and Seven happily complied, fluttering her tongue hotly against Kathryn’s firm ridge and feeling the clutching spasms around her fingers as Kathryn came to her. The force of her orgasm shook the bed, and ecstasy gave way to emotional catharsis as she wept from the intensity of her vulnerability.

Seven cradled her in gentle arms, stroking her silky hair, encouraging her to cry. "I am here, my love," she whispered. "I love you. I have always loved you. You are safe, Kathryn. Let it all go," she soothed her.

Lying in each other’s arms, spent and drowsy, they began their married life in fulfilled contentment, and slept dreamlessly together in the certainty that they had each chosen the right person to spend their lives with.

________________

Chakotay had arranged for extended shore leave for the crew while the Captain and Seven honeymooned, on the condition that the coordinates surrounding the cabin were strictly off limits to all but the newlyweds. Tom and Harry had even set up a mild repulse field around the area, to warn off anyone who might stray into the restricted space unwittingly.

Not that anyone would want to intrude on the couple. Everyone was quite content to have extra time away from the ship, just to play in the ocean and soak up the sunshine. Naomi and Neelix were building the mother of all sandcastles, along with B’Elanna and Tom’s help. B’Elanna tried to ignore how awful Neelix looked in swim trunks, but it took considerable effort. Some species just weren’t meant to parade around half naked, she noted with a hint of revulsion. Although as Talaxians go, he may be quite handsome. Kes certainly thought so.

B’Elanna pondered that momentarily. There were dozens of species represented by the crew of Voyager, and yet, with all their diversity, she had yet to meet anyone whose standards of beauty differed so much that they couldn’t appreciate a beautiful woman, most notably, Seven of Nine. The wedding had been ample evidence of that. Even Tom had been mesmerized by the shapely Borg, despite being scrutinized by his notoriously jealous Klingon girlfriend. When hormones supercede fear, there is definitely something potent going on, she decided. She wondered what it was about Seven, per se, that appealed to so many. Certainly she was brilliant, and undeniably brave. After all, she had married the Captain, and that took no small amount of courage. Of course, Seven was gorgeous, as well. But there was something more. Maybe it’s those Borg implants, B’Elanna theorized. Exotic, foreign, yet couched in such familiar humanness. Maybe it’s her demeanor—formal, aloof—unapproachable, which presents a challenge. But that has really changed since Seven moved in with the Captain and Naomi, so the challenge isn’t what it once was.

B’Elanna shook her head to clear that train of thought. It simply wouldn’t do to get herself hot and bothered thinking about six feet of voluptuous Borg, especially six feet of voluptuous married Borg. B’Elanna swallowed her envy. Janeway was probably touching Seven at that very moment. She crushed that thought before it could elaborate itself, and excused herself for a much needed excursion into the icy surf, where her Klingon blood could cool down. Tom cast a puzzled gaze at her backside as she stomped off, wondering what was bothering her this time.

B’Elanna thought briefly about Tom Paris, and where their relationship was going, if anywhere. Tom was sweet enough, but he seemed to find a distraction at every turn, like a child with a short attention span. Cars, space ships, the Fair Haven program, Captain Proton fantasies—he always had some juvenile project to indulge in. From what she could glean from the other women on Voyager who were involved with men, it seemed to come with the territory, and marriage didn’t change anything. She sighed wistfully, thinking again about Seven of Nine. What Seven had with the Captain was so strong, so balanced. Maybe Seven knew something she didn’t, and that’s why Seven had chosen a woman. Offhand, she could think of any number of women in the crew compliment who had more spine than Tom Paris. It wasn’t that he was weak; it was more that he just didn’t care enough about anything to stand up for it or get excited about it. He was just so easy going. In a way, that was good for her, because her own personality was so fiery and dominant. His detachment prevented a lot of arguments, she knew. If she were to attempt a relationship with someone more like herself, it could easily become a battle of wills from the word go. Still, she wished Tom could be more passionate about life, more absorbed by it, instead of always searching for a diversion from it.

She sauntered out of the water, lost in thought, and suddenly found herself flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. She started to growl angrily at the person who had unceremoniously collided with her and dumped her on her ass, but the deep brown eyes staring down at her, filled with humor and warmth, quashed her outrage.

"Lieutenant," said the offending young woman, "I beg your pardon. That was—clumsy of me. Are you okay?" The muscular Ensign grinned at her with flashing white teeth, but made no move to extricate herself from atop the equally muscular Klingon.

B’Elanna recovered her ire, shoving the Ensign off of her. "Fine, Thompson," she muttered, "It was my fault. I wasn’t looking."

Ensign Kieran Thompson jumped to her feet, extending a hand to the flattened Chief of Engineering. "No, it was my fault, Lieutenant. Are you sure you are all right?" She surveyed the Chief for signs of damage, then turned B’Elanna’s face with two fingers to examine a cut by her ear. "You are bleeding," she noted, touching the trickle of crimson that beaded on the Lieutenant’s cheek. "I must have caught you with a fingernail when I reached up to catch the football."

B’Elanna jerked away from the touch. "It’s just a scratch, Ensign. As you were," she said dismissively, stalking away from the bewildered junior officer. The smell of blood assaulted B’Elanna’s nostrils as she strode purposefully away from the surf. That scent made her crazy, even if was only her own blood.

"Hey," Tom greeted her. Spying the thin dark line that oozed from her skin, he rummaged through the beach bag for a dermal regenerator. "I can fix that right up."

B’Elanna forestalled his search with a rough hand. "No. I—It’s just a scratch. Leave it."

"But sweetheart--" he began.

"Drop it, Tom," she hissed, watching him retreat back into his own thoughts without hesitation.

Her skin tingled where the Ensign had cut her. For the first time that day, she smiled.

_________

Kathryn and Seven strolled along the beach, holding hands and gathering sea shells. Kathryn was telling Seven all about the various mollusks and marine creatures on earth, and the similarities and differences between the two worlds’ species. She had happily elaborated upon the description of the sea whelk, the cochina mollusk, and the horseshoe crab, and while Seven listened, she was distracted at the same time.

"I’m sorry, sweetheart. Am I boring you?" Janeway asked with a bemused expression.

"Not at all," Seven replied, stopping to wrap her arms around the smaller woman. "I was just thinking. It has been precisely two hours and nine minutes since you last kissed me," she said seriously.

Kathryn laughed, stretching upward. "Let me rectify that," she grinned, kissing Seven sweetly. "Better?"

"Infinitely," Seven flirted. "Now, about the abalone you were mentioning," she prompted her partner to continue her lecture.

"Abalone?" Janeway looked muddled. "Suddenly, I’m not interested in sea creatures," she advised the lean, suntanned Borg. "But I am interested in kissing you again."

Seven tilted Kathryn’s chin upward, capturing her lips sensuously with her own. Kathryn deepened the kiss, instantly yearning for more, convinced that her arousal sprang from a limitless supply that was never depleted. She had never made love with this sort of frequency, and certainly not with this much urgency. She wasn’t about to question it, however.

Seven pulled away momentarily to gaze at her beloved. "If you are certain that you do not wish to continue educating me about marine life, may I suggest a different topic?"

"Of course. What would you like to discuss?"

Seven smiled winningly at her lover. "We have not yet made love in the Ocean," she correctly noted. "Would you like to?"

Kathryn clung to Seven for support as she kissed the hollow of Kathryn’s shoulder, encouraging her to accept. Kathryn closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation. "I would be willing to try anything once," she acquiesced.

______________________

 

 

The cloaking device masked their arrival as they assumed orbit around the planet, careful to remain on the exact opposite point in the circumference in relation to Voyager. They scanned the planet for life signs repeatedly, analyzing the data for relevance to their research. Most of the humanoid life forms were older than the specimens their work required. However, there was one life sign that matched the parameters. Female humanoid, approximately five cycles old.

Dutritt examined the data, disappointed that they had followed Voyager all this way for one specimen. He momentarily considered aborting the plan altogether, but then decided against it. The resources had already been spent, and he’d be damned if he’d go home empty handed. Besides, Voyager had helped them discover several planets that might provide additional subjects for the experiments. He keyed in the data, prepared the lab equipment, and waited for his specimen to arrive.

He would have preferred a less sentient species of humanoids, but he would have to make do with whatever he got. The Ruling Council had curtailed his funding precipitously, and he could ill afford to split hairs now. He bit his lip fretfully. It was difficult to be a scientist in a militaristic society. He had done all he could to optimize and refine his procedures, learning to maximize his raw material per subject by using more vital organs and tissue than with previous subjects. Still, the yield was woefully inadequate, and cloning did not supplement his cache of viable DNA after two or three reproductions. The template DNA always deteriorated, and the cloned copies started to reflect the degradation, eventually. But he was so close, so close to the solution. The intricacies of immortality taunted him even in his sleep, the elusive answer just beneath the surface of his intellect, mocking him. Teliomeres. He knew they were the key, but the precise manipulation of them defied him.

Soldiers that could not die of natural causes. That’s what his government wanted. Technology could repair wounds, but the aging process itself was beyond the grasp of technological solutions. Dutritt scowled, thinking his scientific acumen was wasted in a society that only cared for conquest of entire civilizations. What about the conquest of science itself? Did everything have to have a practical application? He realized he could never make the argument successfully, and if his research failed, he would surely be executed. War mongers were not known for their patience or understanding. Luckily, there was an advocate to the Council that had so far, kept him and his work alive. But the advocate might reconsider, since this excursion had been a pathetic waste of resources. Perhaps he should consider a different approach. If he could abduct several breeding pairs from the planet’s surface, he would have a steady supply of humanoids for his experiments. He would give that additional thought. For now, he would have the child to work with.

______________

"You know, I could get used to this," Janeway stretched languorously on the beach blanket, tangled with her lifemate, both women naked as the day they were born. "The thought of going back to work after all this relaxation has no appeal whatsoever."

"Kathryn," Seven scolded her, "you and I both know you will become bored in a matter of days. There is no need to deny it. I am not insulted."

Janeway traced the outline of Seven’s pouty bottom lip, loving the texture of it against her fingertip. "I’m not making it up, darling. I have never felt so at ease. I don’t know how I will be able to adapt to commanding Voyager again, which precludes making love with you all day every day. I think I’m spoiled—or maybe addicted," she chuckled.

Seven kissed her finger, drawing it into her mouth, sucking on it. She watched Kathryn’s pupils dilate as she suggestively caressed the length of her finger with her tongue. "I would not want you to go through withdrawal," she teased, reaching yet again for her lover’s willing body.

_______________

The week seemed to last only a few hours, and before the Hansen-Janeways knew it, they were due back on Voyager in less than 24 hours. Janeway was resigned to their fate, forcing herself out of Seven’s arms to search for her comm badge.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

"Captain!" he sounded elated to hear her voice. "What can I do for you?"

"Anything to report?"

Chakotay chuckled. "All’s quiet on the Western Front, Ma’am. I trust you and Seven are enjoying yourselves?"

"Immensely, Commander," Seven called out from the bed, eyeing Janeway’s bare behind and waggling her eyebrows at her spouse.

"Well, we’re having a blow out party tonight, so if you miss us, you’re invited to stop by. Neelix isn’t doing the cooking," he added, knowing that would be extra incentive. "The bonfire starts at dusk."

"Acknowledged. Janeway out." She turned to Seven, who was doing her best to give her a reason to come back to bed. "You are incorrigible, my love. Do you want to go to the party tonight?"

"Do you?" Seven hedged.

"I asked you first," Janeway protested. Then more subdued, she added "I know you miss Naomi."

"You wouldn’t mind?" Seven asked meekly.

"Not at all," Kathryn smiled fondly at her, crawling back in bed. "I want nothing more than to see you smile, and Naomi always gets you to."

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven held her close, kissing her tousled hair. "Thank you for a wonderful honeymoon."

"When we get back to Earth, we can do it all over again," she snuggled into Seven’s embrace. "My mother will have a fit if she doesn’t get to finally host the wedding of the century. God knows she’s planned my wedding enough times, but never got to follow through," Kathryn snickered.

Seven squeezed her gently. "We shall see about that. You may decide, by then, that the last thing you want to do is marry me again."

Janeway kissed her tenderly, her heart on her lips. "Not a chance of that, Annika. I’d marry you a thousand times and still be ready to do it again."

"I will remind you of that when the time comes," Seven smirked.

_______________

B’Elanna arrived well before sunset, and promptly deposited herself at the makeshift Tikki bar where she downed two beers in quick succession. She was planning to get very drunk, if only to forget how hurt Tom had looked when she told him she wanted to step back from their relationship. The injured pride she could deal with. But the fear, well, that was too much. Tom had literally panicked, though he tried to act as if he were in control. His eyes gave him away, though, and B’Elanna felt very guilty at the moment.

"Can I buy you another one of those, Lieutenant?" Kieran Thompson appropriated the stool next to Torres. "It’s the least I can do after doing a swan dive face plant on top of you the other day."

"What the hell," Torres agreed with a shrug in the direction of the attractive Ensign. "Join me?"

"Absolutely, Lieutenant." She nodded at the crewman who was tending bar. "Two more of those."

"B’Elanna," Torres offered. "If you don’t see any rank insignia, call me B’Elanna."

"Kieran Thompson," the Ensign replied, extending her hand. "I know we’ve seen each other around, but I also know nobody ever introduced us." She had a firm grip, B'Elanna noted, and chiseled arms that showed every underlying muscle.

B’Elanna caught herself staring at those deep brown eyes again before she responded. "You replaced Samantha Wildman, didn’t you?"

"Yeah. Not exactly the preferred method of landing a job," she grimaced, taking a brisk pull on her beer. "Did you know her well?"

Torres shrugged. "Not very. I mean, we were acquaintances, and I liked her well enough, but our paths rarely crossed. I have always known her daughter much better than her."

"I didn’t really know her either," Kieran admitted. "Only in passing. I still feel bad for her though." Then to change the grim subject, she asked "Where’s your boyfriend? I usually see him wherever you go."

B’Elanna chugged her beer. "He’s probably in the holodeck playing Captain Proton," she said in disgust. "Besides, he’s not my boyfriend anymore."

"Oh?" Kieran’s interest perked right up.

"Yeah. I just—I want something more. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but Tom Paris isn’t it." B’Elanna stared at her drink. "I guess the wedding made me start thinking about the future, and everything."

"I know what you mean," Kieran agreed. "The Captain and Seven have something amazing. I suspect there are going to be a lot of people reevaluating their relationships, after seeing what love can really be about. They are so lucky to have found each other." She smiled wistfully. "Of course, half the ship is in mourning that Seven is off the market, so to speak, and the other half is in mourning because the Captain is off the market," she laughed.

"Which camp do you fall into?" Torres smiled wickedly.

"Ah, I’ll never tell," she replied mysteriously. "A girl has to have some secrets."

Torres snorted with laughter, the third beer loosening her up. "Kahless, that saying is straight out of one of Tom’s old movies," she smacked the counter. "Where’d you pick that up?"

She smiled sheepishly. "From one of Tom’s old movies. Remember when Tom hosted the film festival in the mess hall? I was one of the few people who actually went."

B’Elanna groaned. "And I was just starting to like you," she quipped.

"Hey, I didn’t enjoy it," Kieran protested, laughing. "I only stayed to be polite. But after that first movie, even politeness couldn’t keep me from running from the room screaming."

"Now that I can believe," B’Elanna clapped her drinking buddy on the shoulder. "I never could figure out what was up with all that nostalgia crap Tom is into."

"Hard to believe that anyone ever found that stuff entertaining. It’s so hokey."

B’Elanna almost ejected beer through her nose. "Hokey? That’s another one of those expressions from that same damned movie," she laughed. "Admit it--you secretly loved that show."

"Hardly. But some of the phrases were pretty cool," she said to goad Torres further.

B’Elanna doubled over laughing. "Cool—oh that’s a good one. How about ‘groovy’? Or ‘tubular’? No, wait—how about ‘totally rad’?"

Now they were both howling, wiping tears from their eyes. Torres turned to face away from the bar, watching the crew trickling in for the party, still laughing softly.

Kieran glanced over at her, and realized that she still had the cut on her face. She examined it, holding B’Elanna’s face with her thumb and forefinger. "Why didn’t you get this treated?" she queried with dismay.

B’Elanna didn’t pull away from the inspection. "I don’t know," she admitted. "I just—didn’t want to remove it. That is, I didn’t get around to it." B’Elanna wasn’t about to explain how Klingons sometimes kept scars to remind them of great battles, or intimate sexual encounters. She had somehow just liked the idea that Kieran Thompson’s mark was on her. It was silly, she supposed, but true.

Kieran didn’t tell her that her best friend at the Academy had been a Klingon, and that she was all too familiar with their customs. She did smile at B’Elanna, though, and B’Elanna was lost in those eyes again. "Would you like to have dinner sometime?" Kieran asked without a trace of intimidation.

B’Elanna smiled back, suddenly aware that she did not want to be drunk, after all. She didn’t want to miss a minute of this woman’s company. "No time like the present," she replied, holding out her hand. Kieran took it in her own, and the two wandered over to the bonfire to find something to eat.

Naomi Wildman’s delighted shouts alerted the crew to the arrival of their Captain and their Astrometrics Officer. The three women embraced each other, overjoyed to be together again.

"I’m so glad you came," Naomi beamed at them, taking a hand in each of her own. "You guys look so great," she noted, not certain what was different, but aware that something very good had occurred.

The two adults glanced at each other, smiling. It was uncanny how spending a week together, uninterrupted, had deepened their bond.

"Naomi," Kathryn began, "we wanted to thank you for the gift you left us at the cabin. It was very thoughtful, and very much appreciated."

"Really?" she was pleased that she had made a good choice. "I couldn’t have done it without B’Elanna’s help."

Seven smiled fondly at her daughter. "How did you ever get enough replicator rations to make so much food?"

Naomi grinned mischievously. "Well, I saved some. But I also beat a lot of the crew at Kadis-Kot."

Janeway’s face fell in mock alarm. "Young lady—Bridge Assistant Wildman," she corrected, "are you telling me you gambled to get those rations?"

Naomi froze. "Yes, Captain," she admitted, thinking she was in for it now.

Janeway let out a sharp peal of laughter, picking the girl up in loving arms. "Very enterprising, Naomi," she complimented her. "Are you sure you aren’t part Ferengi?"

"Naw, I haven’t got the lobes," she joked, sending Janeway into another fit of laughter.

Seven was laughing, too, which was a very rare occurrence that caught the attention of many of the party guests. "It was a wonderful gift, Naomi," Seven thanked her again. "We must find Lieutenant Torres, and thank her, as well."

It took quite awhile to work their way through the crowd, as everyone they encountered wanted to welcome them back, ask about their vacation, or compliment them on some aspect of the wedding. Seven of Nine was astonished by the receptiveness of the crew, at how many people touched her arm, or laid a hand on her shoulder. She had had physical contact with only a few members of the crew in the almost three years she’d been on board. She knew that many of them avoided her, feared her, or patently disliked her. Now, it was as if she had not been Borg. They finally saw her humanness. It was overwhelming for the young woman.

Janeway was equally aware of the change in attitude toward Seven, and she was grateful for the acceptance of her mate. She was happy that finally, these people could see in Seven what she had seen all along.

"There she is," Naomi practically dragged the two women behind her. "Hi B’Elanna. Look who’s here," she announced.

B’Elanna jumped up to hug the two women. "Wow, look at you two. You’re just glowing with happiness," she informed them warmly.

Seven surprised her by kissing her cheek. "Thank you for helping Naomi with our wedding present," she squeezed B’Elanna’s shoulder. "You have no idea what a relief it was to get a reprieve from the mess hall food," she managed not to insult Neelix openly in front of Naomi.

Janeway draped her arm across B’Elanna’s shoulders. "Yes, thank you, B’Elanna. We owe you."

"Captain, Seven, do you know Kieran Thompson?"

"Of course," Janeway said. "Ensign, are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, Captain. Thank you."

Seven of Nine extended her hand. "We have not met, Ensign. It is a pleasure."

Kieran stood up to shake hands. "Nice to meet you," she gripped the Borg enhanced hand without registering any surprise or discomfort, Seven noted. "Congratulations on your marriage. It was an exceptional ceremony. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house," she smiled at the statuesque blond.

"Thank you, Ensign. I am glad you could attend."

B’Elanna leaned over and whispered to Janeway. "Have you been sending her to etiquette classes? She has become the consummate Captain’s wife overnight," she said with awe.

"She’s a natural," Kathryn praised her partner with tremendous pride. "I am a lucky woman. Speaking of lucky, where’s Tom?" Janeway glanced around, as if the sandy-haired helmsman would suddenly be there.

"He—ah, I’m not seeing him any longer. I guess he stayed on board the ship tonight."

"Are you okay?" Janeway said with obvious concern.

"Better than I’ve been in a long time. Thanks for asking, though." B’Elanna smiled to reassure the older woman that things really were fine.

"We were just about to sit down to dinner," Kieran gestured at the log they’d been sitting on. "Would you like to join us?"

"I’d love to—I’m starved," Janeway looked at Seven for her input.

"That would be acceptable. I will go get the food while you entertain everyone," she offered, kissing Kathryn lightly. "Do not go anywhere," she added, heading for the barbecue pit.

Naomi jumped up. "I’ll help you, Seven," she volunteered, slipping her hand into Seven’s.

Over dinner, the newlyweds shared their memories of the wedding and the honeymoon with their dining companions. Janeway talked about watching Seven approach the trellis, and how she was too mesmerized to breathe.

Seven rolled her eyes. "My wife exaggerates shamelessly," she intoned disdainfully.

B'Elanna shook her head. "No, Seven, she’s not exaggerating. Chakotay told me—he really did have to remind her to breathe. Hell, I’m surprised we didn’t have to resuscitate half the guests. You were too beautiful for words," B'Elanna assured her.

Seven was blushing. "See? I told you so," Kathryn said smartly. "I’ve been trying to tell her there was a collective gasp when she appeared."

Kieran munched on potato chips. "Believe it Seven. The guy sitting next to me not only gasped, he broke a sweat. No lie."

Seven retired into her cup of tropical punch , trying to cool her burning cheeks. "Kathryn?" she asked. "Do not continue to wear that smug expression, or you will be sleeping alone tonight."

Janeway laughed. "Ouch," she pretended to be wounded. "Can’t I even compliment my dauntingly lovely spouse?" she appealed to their friends. Seven glared at her. "Okay, okay. I just get a kick out of being the envy of every man on board Voyager."

B'Elanna softly added "And plenty of women."

After they’d had their fill of food, B’Elanna sat with the Captain and Seven, talking. Kieran and Naomi went to play catch. Naomi had recently taken an interest in softball, and Kieran was the ship’s best shortstop, so they hit it off immediately. There was enough light from the bonfire to see the ball clearly, and their three companions watched with mild interest.

Janeway touched Torres’ knee. "You and Kieran seem to be having a good time," she noted.

"She’s nice, isn’t she?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Mmmm," Janeway agreed. "Cute, too." She looked pointedly at B’Elanna, who blushed. "What happened with Tom?"

B’Elanna shrugged. "I think seeing you two together made me realize what I’m missing by being with him. He’s a great guy, but I can’t see any future with him. I’m tired of competing with Queen Arachnia, Alice, the hot rod, Fair Haven—I just want a lover who’d rather spend time with me than some holo-character, or some piece of machinery."

"Frankly, I had a hard time understanding your attraction to him," Seven noted, not unkindly. "You seem to be the sort of woman who requires someone stronger, more focused. Someone who can match your intensity."

"That would be a vast improvement," she agreed ruefully.

Just then, they heard the faint whine of transporter signatures, and heard Kieran scream "Naomi!" Seven had closed half the distance between herself and the aliens who had grabbed her child before Torres and Janeway had even reacted. Kieran made a dead run at the alien who restrained Naomi, but before she could reach him, a second captor trained his weapon on her and delivered a phaser blast at point blank range into her chest. Seven leapt to grab Naomi, only to grasp the air from which she had vanished in a shower of transporter sparkles.

_____________

Tuvok adjusted the sensor sweep to a minute confinement, instantly seeing the ion trail of the alien vessel. Seven glanced at the readout. "Species 2396, the Maltania. The Borg assimilated over half of their species two hundred years ago. They were a highly skilled warrior culture, bent on waging warfare against all occupants of their adjacent sectors in space." She tapped her comm badge. "Mr. Paris, please ready the Delta Flyer."

Janeway balked. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"I am going after our child," Seven replied coolly. "What else would you have me do?"

"How about consulting with your Captain first?" Janeway retorted angrily. "Tuvok, track that ship. If it moves an inch, we move with it."

"Aye, Captain."

"Helm, transfer navigation control to tactical. Automate course correction to track that signature."

"Seven, assemble a team and report to the Delta Flyer. We’re more likely to mount a rescue effort if there are two ships they have to contend with. Take a security contingent with you. Captain to Ensign Paris."

"Go ahead."

"Tom, Seven needs a pilot. Meet her at hangar one. Janeway to Security. I need three officers in hangar one now. Computer, full assault weapons, authorization Janeway Pi Rho Seven One. Beam compression rifles to the Delta Flyer on my mark. Mark."

Janeway gripped Seven’s shoulders. "Be careful."

Seven nodded briskly. "I shall. Harry, you’re with me."

"Yes Ma’am," he fell into stride with her as they entered the turbolift.

"Chakotay, you’ve got ops," Janeway barked in full Captain mode. "Tuvok, as soon as the Delta Flyer launches, give me shields and power all weapons. Red alert! All hands to battle stations."

"Delta Flyer is away. Shields are at maximum. Weapons are available at your discretion, Captain."

"Bring us within range, helm. Tuvok, get ready to disable them. Chakotay, hail them."

"Channel is open, Captain."

"On screen. Maltanian vessel. This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. You are holding one of my crew. If you do not return her to us immediately, we will open fire on your ship."

A rather slimy looking alien with muddy brown skin and large reptilian eyes glared at her. "Your weapons are inferior, and you will be destroyed."

"Tuvok," Janeway’s tone was deadly as she stared down the alien. "Fire at will."

"Firing phasers," Tuvok stated. "Direct hit. Their forward shields are holding."

"Photon torpedoes, full spread, maximum yield," Janeway ordered. "Fire."

"They have taken hits on all shields. Shield strength is dropping. Firing phasers on aft shields."

"Helm, bring us about to directly target their aft shields. Fire."

"The Maltanian’s are powering weapons." The bridge rocked violently. "Forward shields are down to 82%."

Tuvok launched three torpedoes in succession. "Aft shields are down. Tuvok to Delta Flyer, you may board the vessel."

"Acknowledged," Seven replied tightly. The away team materialized on the alien ship in a flash of blue transporter energy. Seven had her tricorder in hand as they solidified, scanning for Naomi’s biosignature. "This way," she took off in a dead run. Maltanian security forces rounded the corner of the corridor, opening fire on the invaders.

Seven did a duck and roll into an adjacent hallway, firing her compression rifle as she went down. She had efficiently taken out two of their three operatives, and darted out to kill the third. As she blew his head off his slimy shoulders, she took a grazing hit to her Borg enhanced arm, but the abundance of nanoprobes would have the burn under control in a matter of minutes. More phaser fire erupted behind her as her squad brought up the rear. Seven checked her tricorder and grimly proceeded toward the biosignature of her daughter. It chirped as she reached a laboratory door, which did not open. She keyed in several command decryption codes that her Borg memory had retained, and the doors obligingly parted. She rushed through the opening and shot the alien in the lab coat, frantically looking for Naomi. She caught movement in her peripheral vision, raised her rifle, then let out her breath as Harry and the security force from Voyager clogged the entrance to the lab, firing into the corridor outside the lab.

Then she saw Naomi. The little girl was splayed out on an examining table, mercifully unconscious, restrained, and naked. Her right arm was in a state of partial dissection, the skin peeled back and pinned away from the glistening muscle beneath. Her midsection had been opened with a laser scalpel, and Seven could see her intestines through the incision.

"Seven to Delta Flyer. Tom, lock onto my comm badge. You will need to adjust the annular confinement beam to accommodate a large biobed. I cannot remove Naomi from it safely." She placed her badge on the table.

"Understood. Energizing." He paused. "Transport complete."

"Get her back to Voyager," Seven snapped. She snatched the laser scalpel, straddling the semi-conscious alien she had previously shot. "I am going to dissect you without benefit of anesthesia," she roared with fury, disemboweling him with one slash to his abdomen. He watched in horror as his peritoneal cavity spilled its contents onto the laboratory floor. "If my daughter dies I will hunt down every last member of your family and kill them as well, you miserable bastard." She grabbed what she assumed would be his genitalia, and twisted until she heard the splintering of whatever formed his body’s structural support, ignoring his shrieks of agony. With one final blow, she crushed his skull, and left him to die slowly. The security detachment had cleared the corridor, which was now littered with dead aliens. Seven proceeded down the corridor, shooting anything that moved that didn’t have a Starfleet uniform.

"Tuvok to Seven. We have secured the bridge. Security is preparing to board all decks."

"Understood. Seven to Paris."

"Paris here. Naomi is in sickbay, and I’m ready to take you home anytime you’re ready."

"Ensign Kim. You will remain behind and download their computer core to Voyager. Advise tactical to expect the data."

"Aye, sir," he responded crisply.

 

"Mr. Paris? One to beam out. Energize."

__________

Tom went back for Harry after Seven had transported to sickbay. Harry was pale and drawn as he slouched against a bulkhead. "I’m telling you, Tom, she crushed his head with her bare hands. It was gruesome."

"Yeah, well did you get a look at what they did to Naomi?"

Harry nodded, fighting the bile that was pushing up from his gut. "I understand why Seven lost it, but Jesus, Tom, she was brutal. It was almost psychotic."

"That’s why they call them crimes of passion, Harry. Seven just reacted with the most basic human instinct. The instinct of a mother to protect her young." He tapped commands into the controls without showing the anger he felt.

"There’s a difference between protecting and taking vengeance," Harry argued wearily.

"Is there? Was it enough to get Naomi out of there if that maniac was still alive, and could potentially hurt her again, or other kids? Seems to me what Seven did was just part and parcel of the same drive to protect Naomi, however viciously she did it. You know, if her own parents had had half her blind devotion, Seven would never have been assimilated. I would bet that abducting her child hit a little too close to home for our favorite Borg." Then with genuine concern, "Harry, did anybody else see what Seven did?"

Harry peered at his best friend. "I doubt it. Everybody was under fire. Even I only caught a glimpse of the carnage."

"Then you can’t say anything about this to anyone else. Just in case someone might not understand the way we do," he said pointedly. "Naomi has been through enough. There’s no sense in risking her losing Seven over some worthless alien butcher’s life. Agreed?"

Harry hesitated. Seven had murdered that alien in cold blood.

"Harry," Tom urged him. "Promise me. If this gets out, Seven could be in a lot of trouble. C’mon, man, if Naomi were your kid, you’d have killed that fucker too. You know you would."

Harry held his head in his hands. "Yes, I would have. Part of me wanted to cheer when she smashed his skull," he admitted softly. "Another part of me wanted her to kill him again, only slower the second time. Which means I’m no better than that alien."

For the second time in a week, Harry Kim cried.

________________

B'Elanna Torres had watched in horror as Naomi disappeared, then rushed to Kieran’s fallen body, seeing that a substantial portion of her chest was missing. The disrupter fire had torn through her, leaving charred flesh and failing organs. She had a pulse, but it was thready, at best. She was losing blood by the deciliter.

"Torres to transporter room, I need an emergency beamout, two to transport to sickbay," she barked. She leaned over the unconscious woman. "Hang on Kieran," she said next to her ear. "Stay with me." The adrenaline rush in her Klingon physiology made her inordinately strong, and as they materialized in sickbay, B'Elanna picked Kieran up and moved her to a biobed.

The Doctor scanned her quickly. "Computer, erect a stasis field. Life support protocol Gamma."

Torres bit her lip. Gamma was very bad indeed.

"Crewman Addison, prep this patient for surgery. Computer, transmit organ data for Ensign Kieran Thompson’s heart, and replicate an artificial heart to specifications."

"Replication complete," the female voice replied.

"We’re losing her, Doctor," Addison called out. "She’s gone flatline."

"Computer, engage bypass life support."

"Life support engaged," the voice responded.

"B'Elanna, you must leave," the Doctor advised her. "This is going to take awhile."

"I’ll wait," she insisted.

___________________

Naomi Wildman slowly awakened, groggy from the analgesics and sedatives the Doctor had given her, and still in a fugue from the surgical anesthetic. She could hear someone singing, then realized it was Seven, holding her and singing a lullaby. Seven had the fragile child in her lap, rocking her protectively, careful of her freshly regenerated skin. Naomi blinked, then touched Seven’s face.

"Why are you crying, Seven?" she asked meekly.

"Because I was very frightened, and now I am relieved," she explained matter-of-factly.

"You? You’re not scared of anything," Naomi said in wonder. "What scared you?"

"Losing you scared me. Not knowing if I could get you back safely scared me."

"Oh. I’m sorry." She yawned then, drifting back to sleep, but not before she murmured "I love you, Mom."

Seven hugged her tightly. "I love you too, sweetheart."

_________________

B’Elanna Torres was no Florence Nightingale, but she had finally convinced Kieran to recuperate in her quarters, where she could at least provide company, if not comfort. She came to sickbay to get Kieran released, and to check on Naomi.

"Ah, Lieutenant," the Doctor greeted her. "Your patient is just about ready. Sign this," he thrust a PADD at her.

B’Elanna glanced at the information. "What is it?"

"Just a formality. It signifies that I am releasing Ensign Thompson to your care."

"Oh." She affixed her thumbprint to the document, casting a sidelong glance at Kieran, who rolled her eyes in response, as if to say "Beaurocrats and red tape".

Kieran’s light brown hair was pulled back in a braid that rested on the brace that held her shoulder immobile. "When can I get rid of this?" she asked the Doctor.

"Not for another week at least. We’ll have to monitor it. I want the chest wall to heal before you put any strain on it. Your new heart needs to acclimate itself as well, and keeping your arm and shoulder restrained will expedite that process," he lectured, running a scanner over her. "Your heart is functioning within normal parameters. Blood pressure is stable. You are to remain inactive and rest, Ensign, or I will not hesitate to confine you to sickbay again. Understood?"

"It better be," Janeway’s familiar command tone inserted itself into the room. She smiled as she approached, nodding at Kieran. "Or I’ll have her in the brig," she teased the junior officer.

Then with a kindness in her expression that was unmistakable, she rested her hand on Kieran’s back. "How are you feeling Ensign? Is there anything you need?"

Kieran grimaced slightly. "Faster reflexes, apparently," she replied sarcastically. "I’m sorry I didn’t get to Naomi in time, Captain."

Janeway recognized the apology for what it was: self-recrimination, a state of mind with which she was all too familiar herself. "Kieran, this is not your fault. I hope you know that. I think it was more than enough that you tried, and almost got yourself killed for your efforts."

"All the same, Captain, I’m sorry. That was one hell of a way to wrap up your honeymoon," she replied bitterly. "How’s Naomi doing?"

"She’s going to be fine," Janeway assured her. "The Doctor released her last night, and Seven’s with her in our quarters. If you’re up to it, she’d love to see you both," she nodded to B’Elanna as well. "This whole experience has been harrowing for her. I know she’d respond to two friendly faces." Janeway bit her lip. "Sometimes I forget she’s just a little girl. She rarely seems like a child. But she’s about as frightened as she could possibly be. It might help her get her bearings again to be with her familiars. She admires you a great deal, B’Elanna, though Seven is her hero at the moment," Kathryn smiled faintly.

"I can believe that. Seven is about as formidable a rescue team as anyone could ask for. Hell, she’s my hero, too," Torres quipped.

Janeway grinned. "No argument there," she agreed with pride. "If you’re able, Ensign, why don’t you and B’Elanna come by for dinner this evening?"

Kieran looked skeptical. "I don’t know Captain. The last time I had dinner with you, I woke up in intensive care," she teased. "I don’t think I can spare any more vital organs, this week." Then more seriously, she added "I think we can manage it. That is, if Lieutenant Torres isn’t busy."

"That would be great. Say 1800 hours?" B’Elanna confirmed.

"Until then," Janeway nodded. Then in complete violation of energy conservation protocol, she tapped her comm badge. "Computer, initiate site to site transport, authorization Janeway Delta Seven. Beam Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Thompson to Torres’ quarters. Energize."

As they materialized in B’Elanna’s cabin, B’Elanna regarded Kieran with no small amount of astonishment. "She must really like you," the chief of engineering observed. "Tuvok will rake her over the coals for that little gesture."

Kieran grinned. "It’s good to have friends in high places," she chuckled.

"Make yourself at home," B’Elanna helped her over to the couch, steadying Kieran by her right arm and hand. "I’ll make us some tea."

"You know, you really don’t have to do this--" Kieran began.

Torres cut her off. "We aren’t having this conversation again, Ensign. It’s the least I can do for getting you shot on our first date."

Kieran resisted as Torres tried to withdraw her hand, holding the bemused Klingon in place. "Was it a date?" her eyes twinkled with amusement and something else, B’Elanna noticed.

"I hope so," B’Elanna confessed.

Kieran befuddled the sturdy Klingon as she somehow settled B’Elanna into her lap with one arm. "Well then, if it was our first date, I never got to say goodnight," she flirted, lifting her face to B’Elanna’s and kissing her softly and entirely too briefly for B'Elanna’s taste.

B'Elanna hesitated, studying the brown eyes that captivated her before reclaiming Kieran’s lips. She held Kieran’s face in her hand, and kissed her questioningly, feeling immediate consent from the woman who had left more than a physical mark on her body. Kieran’s mouth opened sweetly beneath B'Elanna’s, and the desire swept through her like a shock wave as Kieran explored the contours of B'Elanna’s lips with her tongue. They kissed for what must have been the better part of an hour, until it abruptly dawned on B'Elanna that Kieran’s mechanical heart might be burdened by the strain of arousal. She broke contact in alarm.

"Oh God," she felt for Kieran’s pulse frantically. "Your heart," she said with genuine panic. "I’m so sorry, how stupid--" she reprimanded herself harshly, removing herself from Kieran’s lap.

Kieran laughed then, pulling B'Elanna back down. "Relax, I’m fine," she soothed her jangled nerves. "Here, feel." She put B'Elanna’s hand over her chest. "See? A little bit quicker than normal, but that’s to be expected anytime there’s a gorgeous woman kissing me. Really, B'Elanna, don’t worry. If I didn’t feel fine, I’d call the Doctor. Okay?"

B'Elanna acquiesced, albeit cautiously. "I’ll get that tea, now," she murmured, surprised at her own thundering pulse.

Kieran called after her playfully. "Y’know, you’re really cute when you’re freaking out."

______________

B'Elanna noted that although Naomi was physically recovered from her ordeal, she was emotionally subdued. Normally, the half-human half-Ktarian was ebullient in the extreme, but she spent most of the evening huddled up against Seven of Nine, as if she required protection. Even Janeway’s embrace wouldn’t suffice when Seven tried to excuse herself for a moment. Naomi simply followed Seven. Janeway was visibly disturbed by that.

As the pair exited the living room, Janeway watched them helplessly. "Damn, I wish we had a ship’s counselor," she complained.

B'Elanna smiled sympathetically. "She’ll be okay, Kathryn, just give her time."

Kieran nodded emphatically. "I think she’s doing remarkably well, considering all she’s been through. As for a ship’s counselor, if you’re serious, you should think about posting the job."

"I am serious," Janeway regarded her appraisingly. "I don’t think we can get along without one forever, do you?"

"It certainly wouldn’t hurt to put out a few feelers to see if there’s anybody on board who’s qualified and interested," B'Elanna pointed out.

Naomi and Seven joined them again, and Naomi seemed less intimidated than before. She walked right up to Kieran, and hugged her. "Seven says you tried to stop the Maltanians from taking me with them," she explained. "I can’t remember it. Thank you."

Kieran hugged her back. "I wish I’d been a little quicker to react," she replied. "I’m very sorry, Naomi."

Naomi dropped to the floor, sitting cross legged in front of the older woman. "Why?"

Kieran leaned back on her good arm, studying the freckle-faced girl. "Because I failed. And you were hurt because of my failure."

"Only ‘cause they shot you. It’s not like you could do much after that," she pointed out logically. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Kieran hid her amusement at Naomi’s oh-so-serious demeanor.

"Why would you risk your life for somebody you hardly even know?" Naomi seemed genuinely puzzled.

Kieran considered that for a moment. "I don’t think it was a conscious choice, Naomi," she admitted. "It’s just something grownups do—a basic instinct that kicks in when a child is in danger."

"But you just met me," she turned the explanation over in her mind. "Instinct—is that something we can control?"

"Maybe," she allowed, "if we have time to think about our actions. But in this case, it was just an automatic response to something that happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to consider the consequences." Kieran was picking up on something Naomi wasn’t saying. She felt compelled to probe a bit. "Does that bother you, Naomi?"

Naomi cocked her head, contemplating. "Yes. It does," she decided.

"What bothers you about it?" Kieran prompted her gently.

"If people act without thinking—if their instincts take over—and it puts them in danger because of me, I—I don’t like that," she floundered to make sense. "I wouldn’t want to be the reason for Kathryn to lose Seven, or for Seven to lose Kathryn," she put her finger on the real fear. "And I don’t ever want to lose either of them," she added quietly, staring at the floor intently.

Kieran lifted Naomi’s chin with a careful finger, meeting her eyes. "That would be terrible," she agreed. "And sometimes, terrible things can’t be avoided. But we learn to adapt, and sometimes, it even makes us better people—stronger people."

"It does?" she sounded hopeful. Then in Borg-like fashion, she demanded "Explain."

Kieran continued to hold her gaze, smiling kindly. "Seven is a good example," she began. "She was taken by the Borg, and it was a terrible tragedy that she missed her childhood, lost her parents, and lost her individuality. But if she hadn’t been assimilated by the Borg, she would never have met Kathryn, and she would not be your mother now." Then drawing the Borg into the conversation, she asked "Seven, if you could, would you change the fact that you were assimilated?"

"Not if it meant Kathryn and I would never have married, or made a family with Naomi. I would gladly go through it all again, if it meant I would end up where I am right now," the former Borg drone returned honestly.

Kieran turned back to Naomi. "That’s what I mean, Naomi. When something bad happens, we have to accept it, grieve over it, and then try to make the best of whatever it brings. And it doesn’t do any good to fret over what might go wrong. But it does make sense to try and anticipate what might go wrong, in order to avoid it. In fact, that’s exactly what B'Elanna does in her job every day—she tries to do everything she can to make sure the ship runs smoothly. It’s what Kathryn and Seven do with regard to you, the ship, astrometrics—we all do it. It’s another instinct we all have."

Naomi seemed to ponder Kieran’s words from several angles before she smiled brightly. "I think I understand. It’s like when you’re playing Kadis-Kot, and you have to think about ‘if I do this, she’ll do that’, and you have to think through all the different ways you can play your turn. If you think it over first, you can make a better choice. And if you make a bad play, you have to try to make up for it the next time it’s your turn. So you mean I should think about how to make each play as best I can, and not get worried so much about the things that could go wrong."

"That is an excellent analogy," Seven praised her, and smiled approvingly at Kieran.

"You’re smart," Naomi announced, rising to her knees and hugging Kieran. Then in the characteristic manner of a child, she completely changed the subject. "Why are you wearing this?" she pointed to the shoulder brace, and deposited herself in Kieran’s lap. They carried on their own conversation, Naomi suddenly animated and open again.

Janeway was dumbfounded. "What just happened?" she asked.

B'Elanna chuckled. "Some people just have a way with kids," she shrugged.

"Well whatever it was, that’s the most relaxed I’ve seen Naomi since Seven brought her home," Kathryn said with admiration.

"Fast friends," Seven added. "Now I understand what that expression means. Neelix says that sometimes, and I could never grasp the intent of the phrase."

"You know," Kieran was saying to her fast friend, "I’m not allowed to play softball for awhile, and I have some free time now that I can’t practice. Maybe you would keep me company, so I won’t miss playing so much?"

Naomi grinned expansively. "That would be acceptable," she agreed readily. "What shall we do?"

"Hmmm, let’s see. We could clean some Jeffries tubes," she teased. "We could have Neelix teach us to cook," she suggested, delighted that Naomi was giggling. "We could finger-paint our faces, announce an intruder alert, and scare the security team out of their wits," she had the adults laughing now, too. "We could play with the Doctor’s holomatrix and give him some hair." She glanced wickedly at B'Elanna. "I know. We can adjust the transporter controls and beam Mr. Paris’ uniform right off him, and leave him at the helm in his underwear." Naomi was squealing now, and Janeway wasn’t far behind. Kieran laughed as well, glad that she had lightened the mood. Then as a serious proposal, she said "How about if we visit Flotter in the holodeck, and eat cookies, and walk in the arboretum? I think that would be fun, and it would keep us out of the brig. What do you think?"

Naomi leaned her head against Kieran’s unfettered shoulder. "I think you’re funny," Naomi giggled. "Can we really beam Tom’s uniform off him?"

The other three adults shouted in unison "NO!"

Naomi appealed to Kieran. "Some people have no sense of humor," she sniffed, sounding very much like Janeway.

That made Kieran dissolve into a laughing fit, surprised at the precocious youngster’s witty repartee.

_________________

Kathryn curled up beside Seven, blissfully sated from repeated lovemaking. Naomi had let B'Elanna and Kieran tuck her into bed without argument or anxiety, and it had freed the married couple to reaffirm their passion for each other, something they both desperately needed after the events of the days. Seven had not been herself at all, and Kathryn had begun to worry that Naomi’s abduction was simply too much for her lover to process.

Seven had blatantly refused to discuss what had happened on the Maltanian vessel, saying that her fury was still too raw, and that when she could handle it, she would tell Kathryn everything. It wasn’t easy, but Janeway was trying to respect Seven’s need to keep the mission details to herself. When Janeway had tried to coax the information from her spouse, Seven had become angry with her, saying that Kathryn did not really want the details, as it would only leave Kathryn in a state of rage and despair. Kathryn was even more disturbed that Seven felt she needed to protect her from whatever had happened.

________________

Janeway’s curiosity was piqued now that she’d spent some time with Kieran Thompson. She sat in her ready room, sipping coffee and perusing Thompson’s service record. Her lips curled at the corners. "Well I’ll be damned," she muttered. "No wonder she was so good with Naomi." She scanned the readout, shaking her head. Chakotay had obviously overlooked this young woman’s qualifications, and that had Janeway worried. How many other crewmen might be falling through the cracks? Thompson certainly had. It was an impressive set of credentials, indeed.

Accepted to Starfleet Academy Stardate 40583.6

James T. Kirk Memorial Merit Scholarship Stardate 41002.7
Linus Pauling Xenobiology Fellowship Stardate 41251.4

Rollo May Xenopsychology Research Award Stardate 41416.2

Research practicuum, Clinical Xenopsychology, U.S.S. Enterprise Educational Internship Division, Preceptor—Lt. Commander Deanna Troi Stardate 42066.9

Valedictorian graduating class Stardate 44356.9

Commissioned Stardate 44369.2, assignment U.S.S. Enterprise Sciences Division

Field Commendation, U.S.S. Enterprise Stardate 44642.1 Exemplary Performance as interim ship’s counselor

Field Commendation, U.S.S. Enterprise Stardate 44812.6 Science Division, excellence in performance, Kaelon II helium ignition data analysis

Field Commendation, U.S.S. Enterprise Stardate 45376.8 Science Division, excellence in performance, Soliton Wave Propulsion Test Project

Field Commendation, U.S.S. Enterprise Stardate 46001.3 Exemplary Performance as interim ship’s counselor

Field Commendation, U.S.S. Enterprise Stardate 46519.1 Exemplary Performance as interim ship’s counselor

Reassigned, Stardate 47623.2, U.S.S. Enterprise, Acting Assistant to Ship’s Counselor

Transferred and Reassigned, Stardate 48030.5, U.S.S. Voyager Sciences Division

Applied, Starfleet Academy Post-Graduate College, Counselor Training Program; Stardate 47623.2

Recommendations on file:

Captain Jean-Luc Picard, U.S.S. Enterprise, 1^st letter of recommendation.

Counselor Deanna Troi, U.S.S. Enterprise, 2^nd letter of recommendation.

Professor Kate Pulaski, Starfleet Academy Medical School, 3^rd letter of recommendation.

Application status: Admission granted Stardate 48583.1

Addendum to service record: Missing In Action, U.S.S. Voyager, Stardate 48315.6

 

Janeway flinched as she did the mental calculations. Kieran had been accepted to the Counselor Training program at the Academy, but had never been able to attend, because Voyager had been lost in the Delta Quadrant. Her brilliant career had been stymied by Janeway’s command decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array. And Thompson’s potential had been squandered in the pursuit of mundane xenobiological research, while Voyager had desperately needed a counselor. She pinched the bridge of her nose, forestalling a raging headache.

She finished her coffee with a gulp. "Computer, locate Ensign Thompson."

"Ensign Thompson is in the mess hall."

"Janeway to Thompson."

"Thompson here, Captain."

"Are you busy Ensign? I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind."

Kieran smiled. "B’Elanna, Naomi and I are having lunch. Care to join us?"

"On my way." Janeway was pleased that Kieran had followed up with Naomi right away. The young Ensign had made quite the impression upon the Bridge Assistant, and Naomi was already showing signs of improvement in her mental state. Janeway wasn’t sure if it was due to Thompson’s counseling skill, or if it was simply a much needed distraction for Naomi to be making a new friend. Either way, Janeway was grateful.

When Janeway arrived, Naomi showed further signs of bouncing back as she enthusiastically hugged her Captain. Janeway sighed with relief as she hugged her back. "You seem cheerful today," she noted.

"Oh, Kieran was telling me stories about the Academy, and she is so funny," Naomi confided. She smiled brightly. "Did you know that the hydro shower can be programmed to spray chili sauce?" she giggled.

"Yes, I was aware of that," Janeway said dryly, fixing Ensign Thompson with a playful glare. "What have you been telling my daughter, Ensign?"

Kieran fidgeted, wondering if she was about to get a dressing down. "She wanted details about the pranks that we pulled in school," Thompson smiled. "You know—the Tom Paris uniform thing?"

Janeway let out a sharp peal of laughter, remembering their dinner conversation from the night before. "I see. Well, Naomi, there won’t be any pranks on Voyager. You’ll have to apply to the Academy if you want to major in highjinks." She quirked an eyebrow. "Really, Ensign—chili sauce?"

Kieran nodded. "Yeah. There was this first year cadet, Wesley Crusher, who wanted to get a little revenge on a classmate. He enlisted my help with the programming."

Janeway smiled. "You’re talking about the same Wesley Crusher that served on the Enterprise?"

"One and the same. I met him when I did an internship aboard the Enterprise. He came to the Academy the next year, and looked me up. Nice kid."

"I think I’d like the Academy," Naomi informed the Captain. "If we ever get back to the Alpha Quadrant," she amended.

"If?" Janeway poked her ribs. "Don’t you have any faith in your Captain?"

She had to think about that. "Yes, but sometimes things are just bigger than they seem. Harder," she explained. "If anybody can get us home, it’d be you, but I wonder if it’s possible, sometimes," she replied honestly. "Not that I mind," she blurted out, thinking she might upset Kathryn. "I mean, I’m really glad to be with you and Seven."

Kathryn laid a hand on Naomi’s smaller one. "It’s okay if you mind, Naomi. I imagine there are a lot of people on Voyager who do," she said kindly.

"Well, I guess I better go," Naomi sounded reluctant. "I have a lesson with the Doctor. You know how he gets if you’re a nanosecond late," she rolled her eyes. Then to her original lunch companions she said "Thanks for lunch. Can we do it again sometime?"

Kieran grinned. "Well, I’m available tomorrow—are you?"

Naomi bounced on her heels excitedly. "Uh huh. Same time?"

Kieran nodded. "Have a good lesson."

"’Kay. Bye B’Elanna. Bye Mom."

Janeway was startled by that. Naomi had never called her Mom before. It sounded odd to her, but it also felt right, and she found herself feeling touched by the sentiment.

As the little girl skipped out of the mess hall, B’Elanna fixed Kieran with an amused grin. "I think someone has a crush on you," she accused.

Kieran shrugged. "Not likely. I’m just a novelty, for the time being. You’ll get used to me," she shot back, turning the accusation back at B’Elanna.

"Not me, Ensign," she laughed. "Naomi."

Kieran pretended not to have understood her the first time. "Oh. Damn. So you don’t have a crush on me?" she flirted.

"I didn’t say that," Torres retorted. "You’ll have to stick around and find out."

Janeway cleared her throat to remind them she was still there. Kieran nudged B’Elanna playfully. "I’m sorry, Captain. What did you want to see me about?"

"First, I wanted to thank you for what you said to Naomi last night that got her out of her funk. Second, I wanted to ask you why you didn’t mention your application to Starfleet’s Counselor Training program when we were discussing a ship’s counselor last night."

Kieran finished her iced tea. "Oh, that. Making an application is only relevant if you get accepted."

"But you did get accepted, Kieran," Janeway was puzzled.

"I did, huh? I didn’t know. That’s—nice."

Janeway was perplexed by the Ensign’s attitude, but decided to push a little. "Kieran, you have the academic equivalent of a Master’s degree in Xenopsychology. You’ve got experience as a counselor. You have letters of recommendation from some of the most prestigious officers in Starfleet. You’ve won awards, received commendations, and graduated at the top of your class. What in hell are you doing in the xenobio lab, culturing tissue samples all day?"

"Captain?"

"Ensign?" she echoed. "You know what I’m talking about. Are you interested in being the ship’s counselor?"

"I’m not qualified, Captain. I haven’t had the formal training. A master’s degree only qualifies me to practice under the supervision of a full counselor. There’s nobody on Voyager with the equivalent of a doctorate degree who is capable of supervising me."

"Deanna Troi thought you were ready to be a full counselor. She advised Starfleet Command of her opinion. She felt the training was superfluous to your qualifications."

Kieran blushed. "Yes, but Starfleet told her they would not make an exception in my case. Deanna had already stuck her neck out. I couldn’t let her make enemies by championing my cause. I dropped the issue a long time ago."

"All right. If we could figure out a suitable method of supervising you, and could get you started on the formal training, would you be interested in the job?" Janeway tempered the sternness of her tone. Then trying to be persuasive, she added "We need a mental health professional on this ship, Kieran. You were so wonderful with Naomi last night—please say you’ll consider it, if nothing else, as a personal favor to me."

"I will consider it, Captain," she responded obligingly. "Thank you for taking an interest in my career," she sincerely meant it.

B’Elanna piped up. "So what was it like practicing under Troi? She has an excellent reputation."

"She was amazing," Kieran agreed. "Poised, confident, patient, professional—I really admire her."

"Is she qualified to supervise you now?" B’Elanna asked innocently.

"Of course, but what difference does it make? Unless you have some transwarp carrier pigeons you haven’t told us about," she joked.

B’Elanna ignored her humor. "Captain," she said with that look she always got when her mental wheels were grinding, "I could program the holodeck with Troi’s personality profile, combine it with the Academy database for Counselor training, and create a fully functional Preceptor. It would almost be as good as having Troi on board."

Kieran’s interest was sparked. "If you can do that, why not just make an Emergency Holo-Counselor?"

Janeway put her hand on Kieran’s arm. "Please, Ensign, one Hologram with an attitude is enough for one ship. The Doctor’s bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, and a counselor really needs the personal touch. I’m not sure people would want to spill their guts to a holographic projection."

"It’s not too much trouble to write a program like that?" Kieran turned to B’Elanna.

"Not at all. Of course, it does mean I’ll have to work with Tom. He’s the holodeck expert, after all. But then, that’s because he spends all his time tinkering with some damn program or another," she bit off her words. "You’ll have to help, though. I’ve never met Deanna Troi, so your input will be very important. Can you spare the time?"

Janeway interrupted. "We’ll make time for her, if we have to," she said in her best command tone. "Chakotay can make some schedule adjustments. Just say the word Ensign, and it’s done."

"You realize, Captain, that if you’re serious about this, you and I might end up butting heads from time to time," Kieran warned.

"I’ll take that chance, Ensign. Speaking of which, if you accept the job, I’m going to have to promote you to Lieutenant. It wouldn’t do to have half your patients outrank you. Besides, your service record indicates you should have been promoted long ago."

"Okay. Let’s agree that I’ll test B’Elanna’s prototype, and if I’m satisfied that I can serve the crew without any ethical problems, then I’ll be happy to take the job. Is that satisfactory?"

Janeway smiled warmly. "I’ll replicate the extra pip," she said triumphantly.

B’Elanna put an arm around Kieran’s shoulders. "God, you’re easy," she couldn’t resist getting the dig in.

Without thinking, Janeway quipped "Lucky for you, B’Elanna." The words had no sooner left her mouth than she clapped her hand over the offending orifice. She blushed profusely. "I apologize, that was uncalled for," she sputtered.

Kieran touched the Captain’s hand. "It’s okay—I thought it was a hoot," she assured her, eyes dancing with mischief.

"I don’t know," B’Elanna hedged. "I might have to file a grievance." Seeing Janeway wasn’t certain she was joking, she said "Oh come on, Captain. You’re among friends. You don’t have to edit yourself on my account."

"Mine either," Kieran added. "Besides, you’re right—B’Elanna would be lucky if I were easy—but I’m not," she said with an evil grin.

____________________

Janeway sat on the couch, glancing over a PADD. It was late, and Seven had gone to bed hours before. She noted with satisfaction that the efforts to get a ship’s counselor were about to reach fruition. Kieran was projecting that in another week, she’d be ready to see clients. Janeway liked the young woman immensely, and Naomi simply worshipped her. Janeway smirked to herself. B'Elanna was blatantly smitten with her, as well. She got an insufferably far away look whenever Kieran’s name was mentioned. Janeway had been remarkably restrained in ribbing her Chief of Engineering.

Kieran had been extremely busy, but for all the hours spent trying to get her skills polished and her practice in order, she never failed to speak with Naomi every day. She had expressed concern over the fact that Naomi didn’t seem to remember any of the details of her abduction, and had warned Kathryn and Seven that it was most likely a psychological defense mechanism that she’d lost those memories. Janeway was overjoyed that Kieran Thompson was part of her crew. She had proven herself to be capable and dependable, and Janeway already trusted her with her most precious belongings—her child and her spouse.

She got up to check on Naomi for the sixth time in two hours. She couldn’t seem to shake the sense of dread, especially at night, regarding Naomi’s safety. She supposed that was silly, considering that you can’t tell night from day in space, but that’s when the worries were most acute. Satisfied that her daughter was sleeping soundly, she returned to her wine and her PADD.

She was putting the finishing touches on the updates to Kieran’s personnel file and the requisitions for her office when Naomi’s screams shot her bolt upright and off the couch. Seven was already two steps ahead of her. Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief to see that Naomi had not been transported off the ship. But she was screaming hysterically "No! Get away! Let me go!" Then with blood curdling volume, she shrieked "KIERAN!"

Seven was shaking her gently, trying to stir her from her nightmare. She held her securely, whispering to her to calm her fears. "I have you, Naomi, you are safe. I am here."

Naomi cried softly, mumbling through her tears "They killed her, it’s my fault. She was trying to help me, and they killed her."

After trying for several minutes to assure Naomi that Kieran was not dead, Janeway gave up. She tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Counselor Thompson," she hailed. Several moments passed by, followed by a sleepy acknowledgement. "Counselor, I’m sorry to disturb you but it’s Naomi—"

"I’m on my way," Kieran interrupted. The senior staff quarters were in the same area of the ship, so it was a quick sprint to the Captain’s quarters. Kieran didn’t even think to get out of her pajamas. Janeway met her at the door.

"She woke up screaming. She thinks you’re dead, and we can’t convince her otherwise." Janeway’s face was etched with concern.

Kieran squeezed her shoulder. "It’ll be okay," she nodded and headed for Naomi’s room. Seven moved aside to allow her to take Naomi into her arms. "Hey," she murmured, rubbing Naomi’s back, "I’m fine. Look at me. Naomi," her voice brooked no argument. "Look at me. Do I look dead to you?"

Naomi clung to her, crying. "I saw you. They killed you."

"No, sweetie, they didn’t. I’m right here. You’re just having nightmares about what happened. It’s okay. I promise, it’s going to be okay," she hushed her. "Let it go, that’s it," she rocked her carefully, trying to soothe her.

"You had a hole right here," she felt Kieran’s chest, trying to establish that there was no damage.

Kieran wore an old Academy muscle t-shirt that was threadbare and baggy, and silk boxer shorts. She pulled the neck of the shirt down as far as it would go without ripping, showing Naomi her intact chest. "See? Good as new. Not even a scratch."

Naomi frantically inspected her skin, then satisfied, collapsed against her friend. "Oh, it was so real," she laughed in relief. "I was so sure you died," she was hugging Kieran repeatedly, still afraid to let go. "They really did do that to you, though, didn’t they?"

Kieran held her tightly, still rocking gently. "Yes, sweetie, but I didn’t die. I couldn’t disappoint you like that," she teased fondly.

"You aren’t allowed to die," Naomi informed her. "I need you to be here," she buried her face in Kieran’s neck, both arms around her.

"I will be here," she promised. She glanced over her shoulder at the two worried faces that watched every aspect of Naomi’s reactions. "I think I’m going to spend the night, if that’s okay," she advised them. "You two look like hell. You should go to bed." Then to her tiny patient she said "Naomi, is it okay with you if Kathryn and Seven go back to bed?"

"You’ll stay with me?" she asked meekly.

"Absolutely, if you want me to."

"You’ll hold me?"

"Tight," Kieran responded.

"Okay then. They can go."

Kieran peered back at them again. "She’s going to be okay. You don’t mind if I stay?"

Janeway spoke up. "Of course you can stay. Whatever you think is best for her."

Kieran nodded down at Naomi, who was clutching Kieran’s shirt in a death grip. "I think I don’t have much choice," she grinned, trying to ease their minds. "Please, get some rest. In the morning, everything will look a whole lot better."

__________________

The next morning, while Naomi showered and dressed, Kieran discussed the situation with Seven and Kathryn over breakfast. "She is probably going to want to talk about this, now that she remembers it," she explained. "Can you excuse her from her studies this morning?"

"Of course," Kathryn agreed. "I can log all three of us off duty."

"I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll be sticking to her pretty close, if you want to fulfill your duty shifts. I think she might be more inclined to open up to me if we’re alone. It’s your call, but that’s my recommendation. I was planning to take her for a walk in the arboretum, and see how it goes from there."

Seven frowned. "I do not wish to give her the impression that we are abandoning her."

"Okay. I understand that. Why don’t we all go? If she seems to want privacy with any one of us, then we can play that by ear. Can I use your workstation, Seven? I need to take care of a few things before we get started." She rearranged her schedule to free up some time, sent a message to B’Elanna to cancel a velocity match, and transmitted the access codes for her new office to central stores so they could deliver her office furniture without her there.

Janeway finished her second cup of coffee. "Counselor, would it help if I logged you off duty, as well?"

Kieran shook her head. "No. I have a very generous, flexible Captain, and I’m pretty much making my own schedule right now, anyway. I’ve already notified everyone I was supposed to meet today that I won’t be available. Otherwise, I was just going to arrange the office furniture, set up a client database, and spend some time with Dee."

"Dee?" Seven repeated.

"Oh, that’s the nickname B’Elanna and I gave the holographic version of Deanna Troi. It seemed too weird to address her as if she were the real thing. I figure someday I’ll see her again, and I want to keep it straight in my head which conversations I actually had with her, and which ones I had with her alter ego."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "A wise decision," she pronounced. "I wish to express my gratitude, Counselor, for all you are doing for Naomi. Although I admit, I am a bit disconcerted by the fact that I no longer seem to be able to offer her comfort."

Kieran reached over and took her hand. "It’s perfectly natural, once a child is bonded to a parent, for them to seek out other mentor figures. It’s also natural that you’d feel a little left out, Seven. But you have to believe me when I tell you, there is no one that could take your place with Naomi. She loves you unconditionally. And her ability to reach out to me is a testament to how much she trusts and loves you both. It means she is secure enough in your family to move beyond the nuclear framework. Considering what happened with her mother, it’s very encouraging that she has no compunction to expand her reference group to include me, and B’Elanna. That’s a big step—the more people you love, the more potential you have to be hurt or disappointed or to lose someone. Naomi is willingly taking that risk. Unfortunately, she’s also confronting the reality of how vulnerable that makes her."

Seven squeezed Kieran’s hand. "Very well, then. I will try not to let it hurt my feelings."

"Or mine," echoed Kathryn. "I felt pretty damned useless last night."

Kieran smiled, pouring the Captain another cup of coffee. "You wouldn’t be a good Captain if you didn’t feel like everything is your responsibility, Kathryn. But being a parent is an even heavier burden in that sense. Especially when you take on a child who has already passed through infancy and toddlerhood. It’s like taking over a velocity match for someone who is behind several points. You’re coming in cold to a losing situation, and you have to recover from it," she was pleased with herself for finding an analogy Seven would follow. "I think you’re both doing a marvelous job. Tell yourselves that once in awhile. It helps."

Naomi came barreling around the corner, wide eyed. Seeing that her three closest companions were present and accounted for, she relaxed visibly. She peered intently at Kieran’s chest, double checking to verify she still had one.

"Good morning, Naomi," Kieran greeted her. "Are you hungry?"

"Not very," she glanced around the table to see what they were having.

Seven smiled. "We are having waffles. Would you like one?"

Naomi reciprocated the smile, moving toward Seven, allowing her to enfold her in her arms. "I’d rather have a hug than a waffle," she said honestly. Then very quietly, she said "I love you, Mom."

"And I love you. The waffles will wait. The hug cannot."

Kieran leaned toward Janeway. "I’m going back to my quarters to shower and change out of my pj’s. I’ll be back within thirty minutes."

Janeway smiled gratefully. "I think we can hold it together that long," she teased.

____________________

 

The name plate of her new office gleamed. Counselor Kieran Thompson. It had only taken three weeks to develop the Troi program, establish an office space, and start setting up appointments. She felt a slight flutter as she entered the room. "Computer, lights."

She punched up her schedule for the day, sipping strong coffee, trying to become acclimated to having the use of her left arm again. The brace had stayed on several weeks, instead of the originally projected one. She noted with some trepidation that her first client appointment was with Seven of Nine. Nothing like starting off with the toughest case first, she thought ruefully. She accessed the intake form. The presenting problem was listed as anger management.

Seven of Nine was punctual as ever. "Counselor," she nodded stiffly as she entered.

"Good morning, Seven. Have a seat. May I get you something? Tea? Coffee?"

"I do not require liquid replenishment at this time," she replied.

Kieran noticed that the Borg had fallen back on her formal monotone responses, a dead giveaway that she was nervous. "Okay. Before we begin, is there anything you’d like to ask?"

"This—session. It is strictly confidential?"

"Yes."

"Are there any circumstances under which you would break confidentiality?"

"Only if you were a danger to yourself or the ship. Is that a concern?" Kieran sipped her coffee.

"Yes. What is the policy on confidentiality if a crime has been committed?"

"Tell you what. Why don’t you tell me what this is about, and if I think confidentiality could be a problem, I’ll wipe your record off my database, and log you as having cancelled the appointment."

"That would be acceptable," Seven decided. "On second thought, I would like some ice water, if it is not too much trouble."

Kieran smiled. "I think I can manage the recipe," she teased. "Now, what has happened that has you so worried about talking to me?"

Seven accepted the water. "I have committed murder," she said matter-of- factly.

Kieran tried hard not to react with alarm. "I see. Tell me what happened."

"When the Maltanians kidnapped Naomi, I killed their lead researcher. Dutritt. I killed Dutritt."

"During the rescue mission? That’s hardly murder, Seven."

"It was not strictly during the rescue mission. Naomi had already been transported back to the Delta Flyer in a state of partial dissection."

Kieran’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you mean, dissection?"

Seven gripped the chair until her knuckles were white as she recalled how Naomi had been treated. "I mean precisely that. Her arm was dissected, like a cadaver at autopsy. She had an incision in her abdominal cavity that exposed her internal organs."

"You were furious, I imagine." Kieran struggled to keep her face impassive.

"Yes. And I killed the researcher who had dissected her. I had shot him with a compression rifle when I entered. After I got Naomi safely off the Maltanian vessel, I seized his laser scalpel, and I disemboweled him. It was not a matter of self defense," she refused to make excuses for herself. "In fact, he did not offer any resistance."

"Okay. So how do you feel about that? Are you feeling remorseful, or guilty?"

Seven hung her head. "I should be, but I find that I am pleased that he is dead. I am even more pleased that I had the opportunity to make him suffer before he died." She swallowed hard. "I enjoyed slicing him open. I enjoyed torturing him by twisting his genitals until he foamed at the mouth in agony. I rejoiced when I crushed his skull with my bare hands." She bit her lip. "I am a sociopath."

Kieran pulled her chair around the desk, taking Seven’s hands. "You are not a sociopath, Seven. Sociopaths don’t have any sense of right or wrong. They don’t question their actions. The fact that you are questioning is a good sign."

"It was wrong. My outrage spurred me to murder him for his crimes against Naomi. I am not morally superior to him. I am, sadly, his moral equal." She could not look at Kieran, whose eyes were too sympathetic for her brittle emotions to withstand. "How can I be certain I will not kill again? Kathryn knows something is wrong, but I cannot tell her. She is not just my wife, she is my Captain, and she would have to try me for my crime."

"Seven, are you familiar with the concept of temporary insanity?"

"Yes. It was a lame legal argument that attempted to excuse murderers for their violent acts, usually used when husbands killed their wives."

"It wasn’t just a legal argument," she disagreed. "There is good clinical research to support that subjected to enough stress, a person can temporarily take leave of their senses, especially when the person in question is trying to protect a child. I’m no attorney, but I doubt there’s a jury that would convict you for how you reacted." She squeezed the taller woman’s hands in reassurance. "Most of us find it intolerable when an adult exploits a helpless child, and it’s even moreso when it’s your own family being abused. That sort of brutality against those we love could make anyone react with homicidal intent," she tried to make her understand. "In fact, just thinking about it makes me wish I could kill him myself," she admitted. "You were under tremendous duress, Seven. You have never been violent in your day to day interaction with the crew. This is just a matter of an extreme circumstance."

Seven looked up. She wanted to believe her. "I am not a danger to Kathryn or Naomi?"

"Absolutely not. In fact, quite the opposite. If I had to pick a body guard for either one of them, I’d pick you," Kieran smiled affably.

"There is something more I wish to discuss."

"Okay."

"I—am—afraid," she faltered. "All the time. I can hardly stand to let Naomi out of my sight. I have to constantly fight my impulses to check on her well being. I wake up several times a night, worrying about her, and I cannot sleep until I prove to myself she is safe in her bed. I am nervous, scattered, and paranoid. Am I going crazy?"

"Any parent would be frightened in your situation, Seven. It’s a normal reaction after someone you love is threatened. You become more protective, more prone to worry. It will dissipate with time, but it is perfectly understandable. It’s a very human reaction," she said in her gentlest tone. The kindness of it cut Seven like a blade.

"I cannot function in this manner," she burst into tears. "I cannot protect my own child. I am just like my parents!" she broke down in wracking sobs.

Kieran let her cry, patting her back. "It’s not the same, Seven. There’s a big difference between not being able to prevent a tragedy, and foolishly, selfishly subjecting your child to unacceptable risk. You are not like your parents."

"I cannot bear it," she sobbed. "It is too difficult."

"What is too difficult?"

"Loving someone so much. It hurts. I cannot control what happens, and that hurts. I did not protect Naomi, and I cannot guarantee her future safety. The fear is overwhelming. It hurts too much."

"Yes, it does hurt. But loving someone is also so wonderful, Seven. When Kathryn agreed to marry you, weren’t you elated? And the first time Naomi told you she loves you? Would you trade those moments if it meant never feeling hurt?"

"No, I would not trade those times for anything." She breathed deeply, letting the air escape in an exhausted burst. "I just felt so impotent, seeing Naomi captured like that. And then seeing the horrible things that man did to her," Seven shuddered involuntarily. "Everytime I think about it, I just want to kill him again."

"I imagine that would be the most difficult part of being a parent—feeling helpless and out of control of your child’s life. It is a constant struggle to balance the anxiety you feel against the independence Naomi must develop in order to be a healthy individual. But it will get easier, Seven. You just have to believe that, and remember not to shut Kathryn out. Talk to her. Tell her your fears. I’m sure she has similar ones she needs to share with you."

Seven’s face registered terror. "I cannot tell Kathryn what happened."

"Why not?"

"Because what I did was criminal. Have you not heard a word I have said?"

"Yes, I’m listening. But don’t you trust Kathryn to respond appropriately?"

"Kathryn, yes. But the Captain is another matter."

"I see. You know, it’s not necessary for you to disclose the details of Dutritt’s death in order to share your fears with Kathryn. Not that I’m advocating keeping this from her, but aren’t the issues separate?"

Seven thought about that. "I believe you are correct. My apprehension regarding Naomi is not the same as my regret over terminating the Maltanian." She wiped her face with her hand. "I will discuss my fears with her. And I will consider telling her about the other issue."

"To my knowledge, Seven, there is no danger having this conversation on the record. However, before I make a record of it, I will verify that. Do I have your permission to log it, if I can verify that I won’t have to break confidentiality if pressed?"

"That would be acceptable. I—trust you."

"Would you like to schedule another appointment? Maybe let me know how it goes with Kathryn?"

"Again, acceptable. Thank you, Counselor."

"Good. I’ll look forward to it," Kieran smiled at her, walking her to the door. "Next time, we can work on a relaxation technique you can try when the panic sets in."

Seven excused herself to return to Astrometrics. Kieran sank wearily into her chair with a groan. Why couldn’t my first case have been something easy, like SAD, or claustrophobia? God how I hate it when legal claptrap is involved. Poor Seven. She is so confused. I wonder if Kathryn really would feel compelled to press charges?

___________

Janeway happened by Kieran’s office, and decided to stop in to see how the first day was going. She stuck her head in, peeking around the doorway.

"Lieutenant?" She queried.

Kieran came from the back room. "Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Just checking up on you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need your own counseling session after talking to all the demented people in my crew," she teased. "You look tired."

"Oh, I’m okay. I had forgotten how draining it can be to hear a steady stream of emotional crises, though. Can I get you some coffee?"

"If you’re not busy, I’d love some." She waited patiently while Kieran keyed the commands into the replicator, then gave her a steaming mug. Janeway sniffed it appreciatively, taking a tentative sip. "This is excellent," she complimented. "Much better than my own."

Kieran saluted the Captain with her own mug. "From one caffeine addict to another," she smarted, taking a grateful gulp of the black brew. "I’m glad you stopped by, actually," she continued. "Let me ask you a hypothetical question, Captain."

Janeway nodded. "Shoot."

"You understand that I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality guidelines?" Janeway nodded again. "What is your take on that issue as it regards criminal activity?"

Janeway’s brow furrowed. "You mean do I think you should keep the confidence of a crewman who had committed a crime?"

"Yes and no. Let’s address ‘yes’ first."

"I think your judgment would have to carry the day. If your professional opinion was such that you felt the person was not a threat to the ship or crew, or themselves, then I would not expect you to break confidence. However, if we had a serial killer in our midst, I’d expect you to warn me, and I would have to incarcerate him or her."

"Okay. Let’s say that I had reported a crime to you after I learned about it in the context of doctor-patient confidentiality, would you prosecute the perpetrator?"

Janeway considered. "I don’t know. I never thought about it," she replied lamely. "I suppose the real issue for me would be protecting the crew from potential additional crimes. I’d like to think I’d be more concerned with the crew’s welfare than with some punitive response to the crime." Janeway sipped her coffee pensively. "I’d like to think I’d be open to your input on whether or not to prosecute, Counselor."

"Hypothetically, if such a situation were to arise, should I keep a record of the sessions? It occurs to me that Starfleet might not agree with your perspective, and I would not want to be forced to give evidence against a patient."

"If it were me, I’d be reluctant. I’d like to think Starfleet will be the same institution I’ve served my whole life, but with the war, and the time that has passed, I’m not sure I’d be ready to trust that such a record wouldn’t be misconstrued."

Kieran nodded. "Thank you for clarifying that."

Janeway smirked. "I take it you aren’t going to elaborate?"

"Not at this time."

Janeway smiled. "I won’t ask you how it went with Seven this morning," she commented.

"You knew about her coming in?"

"I’m the one who talked her into doing it," Janeway nodded her head. "The incident with the Maltanians really shook her up. She hasn’t been the same since, and she won’t talk about it. I thought maybe she might benefit from talking to you."

"Let me ask you something. How are you dealing with the aftermath of Naomi’s abduction?"

Janeway winced visibly. "Not particularly well. I’m angry about it. And I’m anxious because I know I can’t change what happened, or stop it from happening again. Oh, I know it’s unlikely, but it’s made me painfully aware of how vulnerable we all are."

"I imagine it would. Do you find yourself checking up on Naomi repeatedly, to reassure yourself?"

Janeway chuckled. "Yes, and it’s making her crazy to have me hovering over her like an old hen."

"She’ll get over it. She probably wants you to hover, for the time being, even if she wouldn’t admit it to you. She may seem incredibly resilient, but deep down, she’s as shaken as you are." Then on another tact, she asked "How is married life?"

"Aside from the fact that Seven is acting strange, it’s okay. I can think of better ways to start our marriage than having Naomi kidnapped, though. I think it made Seven feel guilty that we had such a wonderful honeymoon."

"Maybe your ship’s counselor could mandate a three day weekend off duty so you can get your bearings in the relationship, again."

"Oh my, I can see that you and I are going to butt heads a lot," she said in a warning tone.

"Kathryn, it’s a good idea," she said sternly. "Naomi can stay with me. You can buy yourself a little insurance that the marriage gets off on the right foot, and do any damage control you might need after the Maltanian incident."

"What about Naomi? Is it wise to leave her alone when the trauma is so fresh?"

"She trusts me. And right now, she’s convinced I walk on water. This is an opportune time for you and Seven to take some time off. Preventive maintenance is a whole lot better than repair work," she noted wryly.

"Maybe you’re right," Janeway allowed. Then with a look of dismay, she asked "How did you do that? I came down here to check on you, see if you needed anything, and you turned it around so that you’re counseling me."

Kieran smiled knowingly. "Not at all, Captain. We’re just two colleagues, having a discussion."

"Uh huh. I think that’s more like a gullible commanding officer and a sly, too-clever-for-her-own-good ship’s counselor."

"So, how about that holiday? Consider it a personal favor to me. As I recall, you owe me one."

Janeway snorted in disbelief. "How can my taking time off be a personal favor to you? It’s for my benefit," she argued, loving the tussle.

"The same way my consideration of accepting this job was a personal favor to you. You want what’s best for the ship, and so do I. When you’re happy, Voyager is happy," she retorted, rising to the challenge.

Janeway rolled her eyes. "I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I hired you," she griped good naturedly. "Janeway to Chakotay. Commander, can you cover my duty shifts this weekend? Counselor Thompson thinks Seven and I need some time together."

"Of course, Captain. Would you like me to baby-sit for Naomi?"

"Thank you for offering, but Counselor Thompson is going to be taking care of Naomi."

"Very good, Captain. Chakotay out."

Janeway fixed Kieran with a glare. "Satisfied, Counselor?"

"Quite Captain. Now if you would so kindly get out of my office, I have an appointment in five minutes."

Janeway grinned ear to ear. "I just figured out why I like you so much," she admitted. "You’re one of only two officers on this ship who doesn’t kiss my ass," she laughed.

"I doubt that B’Elanna would let me anywhere near your ass, Captain," she said with mock seriousness.

Janeway let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I imagine you’re right, Lieutenant. So I take it that’s going well?"

Kieran felt her cheeks color slightly. "B’Elanna is a wonderful woman," she sighed dreamily. "Very unique."

"Is it serious?" Janeway leaned closer with a conspiratorial expression.

"Too soon to tell," Kieran shrugged. "It could be. It’s certainly not casual, not for me anyway. But she just came out of a long relationship, so I’m not rushing it. Let’s just say we’re having fun, and not putting a lot of expectations on the relationship."

"Take it from a friend," Janeway advised. "B’Elanna had been done with that relationship for a long time before she left it. I doubt you’d be rushing her if you’re ready for more."

"I’ll take it under advisement, Counselor," Kieran quipped. "Thanks." Then as an afterthought, "Hey—do you happen to know what kind of flowers B’Elanna likes?"

"She loves roses—mostly because she likes the thorns," Janeway snickered. "See you later."

_______________

Seven of Nine bustled about the kitchen, putting together a balanced meal for the women in her life. She felt so much better since talking to Kieran, she actually hummed to herself while she worked. And she was looking forward to her time off with Kathryn. The thought of being alone with her again sent an anticipatory chill down her spine. She was enveloped in a loving pair of arms as her reverie was interrupted.

"Hey you," Kathryn murmured next to her ear. "Have I mentioned yet today that I adore you?"

"Several times," Seven turned to greet her. "Tell me again," she urged, stooping to kiss her partner. After long moments, they broke the kiss, foreheads leaning against each other. "You really do love me?"

"Of course I do," Janeway affirmed. "Do you doubt it, my love?"

"I sometimes wonder if there is anything I might do that would make you stop loving me."

"Absolutely not. I meant everything I said in our vows, Annika. I could no more stop loving you than I could stop breathing."

Seven sighed wearily. "I hope you are not mistaken, Kathryn."

Janeway tightened her arms around the lanky Borg. "Seven, I know there is something bothering you. Please tell me what it is. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is."

"I am afraid anything I say might damage our relationship. I am not willing to take that chance."

Kathryn gazed at her with deep concern. "You’re scaring me, Seven. What is it? Have I done something to hurt you, or make you distrust me?"

Seven pulled away. "I cannot discuss it. Please stop asking me." Then less taciturnly, she added "It is nothing you have done. It is something I did. Please do not worry that my problem is your fault."

Janeway persisted. "If you have a problem, Seven, it is my responsibility too. That’s what being married is about. We’re a team, we help each other," she pleaded.

"I love you, Kathryn. But I am not just married to you. I am married to the Captain. You are patient and understanding, and I trust you unequivocally. The Captain, on the other hand, is a demanding superior who must remain objective. I do not wish to put you in a difficult position. So I am begging you, Kathryn, drop it."

"I can’t. You are obviously upset, and distracted. You keep putting this wall between us."

They both heard Naomi coming in for dinner. "This is neither the place nor time, Kathryn. We will discuss it as soon as Naomi is off to stay with Kieran."

______________

Kathryn replicated a carafe of white wine, resigning herself to letting Seven confide in her in her own time. Naomi had left for the weekend, and the tension between the two women was palpable. Kathryn was trying not to show how disappointed she was that Seven seemed to distrust her, but this had gone on a long time, and she was getting angry, and not a little frightened.

She settled on the couch beside her beloved, offering a glass of wine to her. Seven took the glass, sighed tiredly, and leaned her head back on the wall, left arm thrown over her eyes to block the light. "I cannot live with this guilt any longer," she sounded defeated. "But you must remember, I warned you—you do not want to know what I am about to tell you. And as much as I would like to believe that you love me unconditionally, I am not certain this is something you can forgive."

Kathryn took her wine glass from her, setting it on the table. Then taking both her hands, she gazed at her with calm acceptance. "Please, Seven. I want to know."

"Very well," she gave in. "When I entered the lab on the Maltanian vessel, I shot Naomi’s captor, Dutritt. Naomi was unconscious, naked, and staked out on the examining table like a laboratory animal. I was horrified. Her abdominal cavity had been left open. Her arm was carved up into segments, with the dermal layers separated and pinned back from the muscle tissue. There was a hemostat submerged deep in the tissue of her arm. I could see her tendons exposed, the bone beneath muscle, and I almost vomited, I was so appalled at the sight of what he had done to her. It was much worse than any failed assimilation the Borg have ever attempted.

"I got Naomi safely to the Delta Flyer. Dutritt was still lying there, semi-conscious. His surgical scalpel was still powered on from his experimentation on Naomi. I—I don’t know what happened, Kathryn. I just flew into a frenzied rage. I snatched the scalpel and I disemboweled him. He watched his internal organs spill onto the lab floor but he was too serene, too smug, so I grabbed his genitals with my Borg hand, and I twisted until he was in too much agony to beg for mercy. Then I crushed his skull with my bare hands and left him to die. And I am not sorry. Nor would I change anything, if I had it to do over again."

Kathryn swallowed back her revulsion as the image of Naomi’s torture assaulted her. She struggled to maintain her composure. "Thank you," she said.

Seven looked at her then, surprised. "For what?"

"For killing that fucking monster. For making sure he’ll never victimize another child like that," Kathryn’s outrage was boiling.

"You are not angry with me? You are not going to have me arrested?" Seven’s emotions were at war behind her barely stable façade.

"Good God, Seven, of course not," she was flabbergasted.

Seven grabbed her up in a fierce hug then, crying "Oh Kathryn, thank you," she rocked her in relief. "My beautiful Kathryn, you still love me," she babbled incoherently. "I have been so frightened, Kathryn, so afraid you would not understand, or worse, you would have me charged with murder. And I have felt so inadequate as a parent, letting that bastard take Naomi from us--" she relinquished her tentative hold on her tears, then, falling apart completely.

Kathryn held her possessively, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. "I will never stop loving you Seven, I swear it. You are my life, my home. And don’t fault yourself for exercising your maternal instinct. I might have done worse to that Maltanian. Starfleet has had to deal with similar situations before, and to my knowledge, you would not be prosecuted. At most, a review board might place a reprimand in your file."

"That is all?"

Janeway nodded. "I even remember the case, vaguely. Lieutenant Worf of the Enterprise killed a rival Klingon after the rival killed Worf’s mate. As I recall, Worf attacked him with a Bat’leth, and it was arguably premeditated. He was merely reprimanded. K’ehlar wasn’t even his wife, I don’t think. If that was excused, I’m sure they’d never charge you, darling. As long as Dutritt was conscious, in my opinion, that qualifies as self defense. We won’t discuss this with anyone else, though, okay?"

"I told Counselor Thompson. Was that a mistake?"

"Not at all. Kieran would never betray your confidence." Kathryn wrapped her in strong arms. "I wish you had said something sooner, Annika. I could have stopped your needless worry."

"I am sorry. I was just afraid. I also did not think you could stand to hear how I found Naomi," she snuggled into Kathryn’s neck. "I cannot get the image out of my thoughts."

Kathryn kissed her hair fondly. "I can imagine," she sympathized.

"Kieran says it will dissipate with time. I like her very much, Kathryn. She is a very competent counselor."

"That’s high praise, coming from you," Kathryn said mildly. Seven was known for her critical assessment of everyone and everything. "She does seem to know her stuff, though. I’m sorry we didn’t get to know her sooner. That still bothers me," she admitted.

"What? That you do not know every member of the crew personally?"

"Not that, per se, but that someone like Thompson could be in my crew, and go unnoticed in terms of her aptitudes and skills. Chakotay is supposed to handle that aspect of crew development and staffing. If someone as special as Kieran slipped by us undetected, who else have we overlooked?"

"I see what you mean. We will have to think about that and see if we can devise a solution to prevent such oversight in the future."

Kathryn kissed her forehead. "B’Elanna was right. You have become the consummate Captain’s wife. I depend on you for so many things. Thank you for letting me rely on you. Now you have to learn to rely on me."

"I do, Kathryn, honestly. For many things. I promise to give you the benefit of the doubt if such a situation ever arises again."

_____________

B’Elanna Torres reclined lazily on Kieran’s sofa, listening to the story Kieran was reading to Naomi. The two Lieutenants had dubbed it "Day Three of B’Elanna and Kieran’s Big Babysitting Adventure." B’Elanna smiled, daydreaming about what it would be like if they had their own daughter. Kieran was so personable with Naomi, B’Elanna knew she’d make an excellent mother. But B’Elanna was ready to have their privacy again. She had felt recently like she was sharing Kieran with half the ship. Her thoughts returned to children as she tried to picture what a child conceived with Kieran would look like.

That had been the final issue with Tom Paris, she realized. She couldn’t see raising children with a man who acts just like another child. She somehow figured she’d have ended up refereeing fights between Daddy and baby over who got to play with the toys. And she was fairly sure that Daddy would have been the bigger whiner of the two.

Kieran’s voice drifted pleasantly from the work room where she had erected a roll away bed. B'Elanna pictured Naomi and Kieran, stretched out on the small bed, huddled together. Kieran’s cheeks would be slightly pink, her lips sweetly inviting, her long legs lean and wiry, her expression soft and sexy. The cadence of the story lulled B’Elanna as much as it did Naomi. B’Elanna drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the Velveteen Rabbit, and of a faintly Klingon little girl with soft brown eyes and light brown hair, braided down her back.

Kieran came back to the living room and sat in a chair where she could look at B’Elanna. Her heart swelled with tenderness watching the dark skinned woman sleep, hands curled delicately, throat exposed by the silk tanktop she wore. Kieran felt a slow wave of arousal wash over her. She is so beautiful, so sensuous. I want her. Is it too soon? Too soon to feel so strongly about her? Too soon to invite her to my bed? Too soon to tell her I love her? I do love her, Kieran realized. I’ve seen her every day since that last night on Tampa. Funny, I hadn’t been conscious of spending time with her every day. She’s never been unavailable, or too busy, or even said "maybe". She’s always said "yes", whatever I’ve asked. She must feel the same, or she wouldn’t keep coming back for more. Kieran felt the heat rise in her as she recalled the night before, how willing B’Elanna had been as they kissed each other, how easily she could have taken her then. Kieran wasn’t sure why she had backed off. Well, except that Naomi had been there.

Janeway had said B’Elanna was ready for something meaningful. Kieran hoped so. She really didn’t want to sleep with B’Elanna unless it was a lot more than just physical attraction. It took a lot to be involved romantically with a Klingon, and the last time had been so heartbreaking. Still, B’Elanna had kept the mark Kieran accidentally made on her cheek. It had healed long ago, but Kieran had caught B’Elanna absently touching her cheek on several occasions, as if she could still feel it there. I think she might want a deeper emotional relationship. What she had with Tom was much less than what she is capable of. She is so much more passionate, more alive than Tom.

Kieran thought about the time they’d shared while B'Elanna was taking care of her, the long, involved conversations about their histories: B'Elanna’s tales of the Maquis, her troubles at the Academy, and her redemption under the tutelage of Kathryn Janeway. Kieran had reciprocated with stories of the Enterprise, her academic pursuits, and her athletic interests. She had deliberately not talked about the Academy, thinking it might be a sore point for B'Elanna .

They had worked closely on the Deanna Troi program, as well, and despite B'Elanna’s reputation for being difficult to work with, Kieran had found her to be accommodating, thoughtful, and helpful. Tom Paris hadn’t been quite so cooperative, but he had probably sensed the two women were mesmerized by each other, and his own feelings for B'Elanna were too close to the surface for him to ignore the way the two women interacted. Kieran realized she had probably been a tad insensitive to the love-sick helmsman, whose lengthy relationship with B'Elanna had come to a screeching halt the second Kieran and B'Elanna laid eyes on each other.

B’Elanna had been gracious enough to help Kieran move into her new quarters, which her promotion and status entitled her to. She had eagerly volunteered for more when she talked Kieran into letting her help with setting up the Counselor’s office. She had been suitably impressed with the brute strength of her Klingon girlfriend, who seemed to make fast work of hard, heavy labor. In fact, she had been impressed with B’Elanna in more ways than she could count.

Kieran crept to the sofa, kneeling beside it where she could get a better view of B'Elanna sleeping. She drank in the lovely face, the lips full and slightly parted, the quiet rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Kieran cupped B'Elanna’s face, brushing her thumb lightly against B'Elanna’s bottom lip, the touch reaching into B'Elanna’s dream, wrapping itself around her mind, rousing her. She stirred, looking up sleepily into the brightest, most loving brown eyes she’d ever seen.

"QamuSHa', BangwIj," Kieran whispered , leaning to kiss her. B'Elanna drew her down into the kiss, electrified by the intent of those words, which translated imprecisely to "I love you, my beloved."

Kieran eased away from B'Elanna’s kiss, grasping her hand, which Kieran bent at the wrist with the palm outward. She brought the palm almost to her lips, breathing in B'Elanna’s scent, a low growl emanating from the back of her throat. The Klingon gesture conveyed the intent to mate, and B'Elanna felt herself respond with a fierce desire that she had not expected. She groaned as Kieran squeezed her hand and traced the essence of B'Elanna’s arousal with deep inhalations over the length of her arm. B'Elanna grabbed her then, kissing her brutally, drawing and tasting Kieran’s blood. B'Elanna’s eyes rolled back in her head as the aroma of blood filled her nostrils, and the blood lust overtook her. She tore Kieran’s shirt away from her shoulders, completely out of control, and sank her teeth into the new flesh, tasting fresh blood, leaving her territorial mark on her lover. "I claim you," she growled. "You are mine."

Kieran arched into B'Elanna’s wounding embrace, gasping with the pain, but trusting her. She allowed her to linger over the jagged laceration, soothing it with her fevered tongue. Then growling, Kieran roughly grabbed B'Elanna’s shoulders, saying "And you are mine." Her expression and vocal timbre were equally ferocious, declaring "I claim you!" as she marked B'Elanna’s throat in a place where her uniform would cover it, but where it would clearly show when B'Elanna wore anything low cut. "Swear it," Kieran demanded, bending B'Elanna’s wrist back roughly.

B'Elanna’s eyes were dark, brooding, filled with lust. "I am yours. I swear it," she obediently repeated, breathing hard.

Kieran returned the piercing gaze, blood smeared across her lips, a feral smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And I swear to you, BangwIj, I am yours."

All the ferocity dissipated then, leaving only tenderness, and the knowledge that they were indeed in a serious relationship. Kieran knew Klingon custom well enough to understand that a blood bond was necessary for any real commitment to grow between them. She knew that she was never in any real danger, for beneath the violent exterior lay a woman capable of the utmost gentleness, the sweetest passion. The aggressive surface personality had to be appeased before Kieran could touch the internal one she craved so much. She had been through it all before, only this time, she was no novice to the dance.

B'Elanna leaned into her embrace, holding her in a desperate grip. "Kieran," she whispered, nuzzling the taller woman’s throat with lips that were velvet, exquisitely tender. "I love you. I want you," she shuddered with need.

Kieran closed her eyes, absorbing the words. "B'Elanna," she felt the emotion closing her throat, "you have me. I love you." Then smiling, she whispered "We will have to be quiet so we don’t awaken Naomi. Can you manage that?"

B'Elanna sighed, grinning. "I doubt it. But don’t think we aren’t going to try," she gave Kieran a searing kiss that left the taller woman breathless. She pulled Kieran toward the bedroom, trying to ignore the blood that ran from Kieran’s shoulder, soaking into the tattered remnants of what used to be her shirt. Kieran closed the door behind them, hoping it might be enough to keep the sounds of their passion from waking Naomi.

B'Elanna was in control of herself once more, and slowly removed Kieran’s clothing, except her undergarments. Kieran slid B'Elanna’s clothes off her perfect body, surprised at the elaborate lace that decorated her panties, but appreciative of the effect that seeing that lace against brown skin was having. She ran her finger around the edge of the elastic, stroking B'Elanna’s inner thigh up to her mons. B'Elanna threw her head back, reached down to unclasp her bra, and offered her breasts to Kieran’s hands, groaning as she willingly complied with the silent request.

Kieran covered her mouth with her kiss to dampen the passionate sounds her hands were wringing from her beloved Klingon, sounds that became sharper as skilled fingers teased aching nipples, stroking, pulling, pinching until B'Elanna was panting into Kieran’s mouth. Easing her sinewy legs to the edge of the bed, Kieran cradled B'Elanna until she was on her back, stretched invitingly beneath Kieran’s eager hands. They kissed endlessly, punctuated with soft caresses on exposed skin, drawing out the anticipation for as long as they could. B'Elanna slipped her hands under Kieran’s bra, freeing her breasts from restraint, and guiding Kieran over her mouth. She tasted Kieran’s warm, sweet flesh, watching her reaction to the swirling, darting tongue that pebbled her skin as Kieran moaned, pressing down to meet B'Elanna’s lips. When Kieran’s need drove her mad, she rolled them both onto their sides, kissing B'Elanna again, biting her bottom lip and exploring the interiors of her mouth. She touched the writhing Klingon through her panties, fleeting strokes that were intended to incite her lover. B'Elanna’s throat was raw from panting, and still Kieran tormented her with fingers that would tantalize and withdraw.

B'Elanna was nearing frustration. She arched her back toward Kieran’s fingers, trying to coax them inside her. Kieran gently slid her fingers under B'Elanna’s panties and pushed them down dark, perfectly sculpted legs, traveling toward her dainty feet as she slipped them off. She peppered B'Elanna’s feet and calf muscles with tickling kisses, all the while maneuvering her onto her back as Kieran parted her legs. She breathed deeply of B'Elanna’s musky wetness, the scent sending a jolt of desire through her as she kissed soft inner thighs, puckering the skin as she moved. B'Elanna was whimpering rhythmically in time with her pulse, which seemed to be centering where Kieran’s mouth now claimed her, possessive of the sensitive lips and hood, protective around her sex. B'Elanna’s blood thundered in her veins as Kieran began the agonizing dance of tongue against protruding nerve bundle, long slow strokes designed to tease and tempt, but not to bring release. B'Elanna’s need was palpable, her moans filled with exquisite desperation, her body pleading with Kieran to take her over that edge. Kieran took one last lingering stroke before stopping to probe B'Elanna’s opening with the tip of her tongue, feeling the muscles trying to pull her in. B'Elanna was bathed in sweat now, hips undulating, breathing ragged. Kieran eased two fingers into B'Elanna’s depths. The response of the slick walls told Kieran B'Elanna was almost too far gone to pleasure her further. She ceased all movement, letting the tension decrease slightly. "Don’t move, BangwIj," she soothed her. "Relax your legs," she cooed.

B'Elanna shuddered, struggling to gain control of her desire. Kieran waited until she felt B'Elanna’s muscles lessen their grip before curling her fingers upward inside her lover and wrapping her lips around the sensitive node that had doubled in size. She fluttered her tongue against the bulb at the same time she penetrated deeper with her fingers, and B'Elanna felt the pressure building again. "Don’t stop," she gasped. "Please Kieran, I can’t—please—oh yes, now!" Kieran licked her aching flesh more vigorously as she felt B'Elanna’s muscles close around her fingers, and tried to hold her in place as her orgasm lifted her hips off the bed. She was coming so hard, so powerfully, Kieran had to fight to hang on. Her climax broke with a moan that came out as a sob, and her body convulsed in release as she hit her peak yet again. Kieran wrapped her in protective arms, then, rubbing her back as the convulsions dissipated. "Oh, B'Elanna," she whispered fiercely, "you are so passionate, so beautiful. I love you," she murmured, feeling the heat radiating from her lover’s sweat slicked skin.

"Kieran," B'Elanna breathed her name like a sigh. "Where did you learn to seduce a Klingon? How did you learn our rituals? No one has ever done that to me before."

Kieran kissed her ridged forehead, arms tightly cradling her chosen one. "You aren’t my first Klingon lover," she admitted.

"But you carry no scars—" she began.

"I had them removed when she left me." Kieran tried not to let her old hurt show through her words.

"What sort of idiot would ever leave you?" B'Elanna was incensed at the mere suggestion.

"The sort of idiot who wanted to marry into a prominent Klingon house. Which she did."

B'Elanna moved Kieran onto her back, gazing down lovingly at her blood bound consort. "Lucky for me," she said seductively, insinuating her thigh between Kieran’s legs. "Do you want me?" she teased, rubbing against Kieran’s slender body.

"Very much," Kieran’s voice trembled.

"How do you want me?" she purred.

"Every way, B'Elanna. Please," she shivered with anticipation. "Hard and fast. Soft and slow. Above me. Behind me. Beside me. Every way," she reiterated, knowing her verbal seduction would drive Torres mad with lust.

"Then that is how I’ll take you," B'Elanna growled, removing what precious little remained of Kieran’s clothing. She buried her fingers abruptly in Kieran’s wetness, the force of the penetration knocking the wind from her lover briefly. Kieran’s groan was sharp as B'Elanna’s hand pushed into her, her hips rising to meet that first thrust. B'Elanna struggled for control of her raging desire to ravish her lover senseless, knowing that Kieran’s human body was not up to the aggression she was feeling. She made a conscious effort to restrain herself, until the urgency abated again. She kissed Kieran sweetly then, her fingers gentle inside Kieran’s welcoming opening, her rhythm slow and sensuous. Kieran climaxed almost immediately. It occurred to her just how long it had been since she’d made love. B'Elanna wasn’t disappointed nor deterred, however, and simply switched amorous tactics. "That covers hard and fast," she teased "and soft and slow. Now let’s move on to above you," she flirted. "Then we’ll try behind you."

If Kieran thought B'Elanna was joking, she was quickly disabused of that notion. B'Elanna started at Kieran’s feet, gently massaging her insteps, each in turn. Kieran sighed with pleasure as the relaxation started to work its way up her legs. B'Elanna’s hands were so strong, she turned the knotted muscles beneath her fingers to liquid as she worked the tension free. Kieran was starting to drift off to sleep, until a sudden jolt of desire rocked her. B'Elanna’s hands were kneading her thighs and the swell of her buttocks. Kieran couldn’t remember how she had ended up lying face down, but she rapidly forgot to care as B'Elanna’s hands worked her gluteal muscles in increasingly sensual motion, thumbs separating the cheeks slightly, fingers trailing along behind the thumbs, caressing in places Kieran had never been touched. B'Elanna kissed the planes of Kieran’s shoulders, following the angle of the shoulder blade with her lips, working her way up to the back of Kieran’s neck, where she blew warm air and gently nipped the nape of her neck. Still her hands stroked buttocks that were suddenly moist with juices that had migrated from elsewhere, and was rewarded by the soft sounds that came from the back of Kieran’s throat, increasingly ragged as her arousal returned.

B'Elanna hovered over Kieran’s back, kissing her earlobe, and reaching to her folds from behind. Kieran drew her legs up to give her complete access, and B'Elanna immediately obliged her lover by stroking the path of honey that flowed from Kieran’s opening. She teased intermittently, heightening Kieran’s need and rekindling her own arousal as well. She pulled Kieran over again, so that she was on her side with B'Elanna beneath her, and Kieran felt long, fine boned fingers enter her in fluid motion. Then ever so gently, B'Elanna filled Kieran from behind, as well. Kieran made a guttural sound as the single digit probed her, with only a thin membrane separating the two openings. B'Elanna massaged either side of the delicate wall, feeling both orifices tighten against her penetration. Kieran’s body was shaking uncontrollably, and B'Elanna anchored her against her own belly, holding her down while lean fingers extracted the full measure of desire from a willing recipient. Kieran’s need was so blindingly intense that tears ran from her eyes, and still the gentle assault continued, so tenderly her chest ached with unspoken love. And then it crested in unexpected waves that shook her to the core, the sensation mimicking the feeling of falling, then hitting ground as her release came.

Recovering in B'Elanna’s arms, Kieran breathed softly against the warmth of B'Elanna’s breasts, resting. "That was unreal," she murmured in awe, still crying silent tears from the sheer emotion of it.

B'Elanna stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, Kieran," she whispered. "I didn’t hurt you?"

"Never, BangwIj," she replied. "You were perfect."

"Thank Kahless and all the Gods," she said with genuine relief. "You have no idea how hard it is to be gentle when the blood of a lover is screaming in your senses."

"I don’t have any idea," she agreed, "but I know you were perfect."

B'Elanna looked down at her, concern furrowing her brow. "Your former Klingon lover—she was not so perfect?"

"Not even close," Kieran admitted. "I ended up in the Academy Medical Ward. I looked like I’d been attacked by an animal."

"That should never happen," B'Elanna was indignant. "What sort of petaQ was this woman?"

Kieran snuggled contentedly into her lover. "She was inexperienced. She had no frame of reference for taking a human lover, and unfortunately, I had no frame of reference for surviving a Klingon lover. Eventually, we figured out what to avoid, and she figured out how to keep from tearing me limb from limb."

B'Elanna regarded her partner with sincere admiration. "You mean you kept trying to make love with her, after she put you in the hospital?"

Kieran shrugged. "I was in love with her. I can be stubborn when I want something."

B'Elanna studied the soft brown eyes that gazed up at her, feeling a poignant respect for this woman who dared to sacrifice her body to an uninitiated Klingon in the throes of bloodlust. "You must have loved her very much to take such a risk. No wonder you’ve been hesitant with me. I wish you had told me sooner."

Kieran touched the spot where she had marked B'Elanna, the angry gash still seeping. "It’s not like I made you wait very long," she chuckled.

"You’re right," B'Elanna agreed. "It just felt like forever. I can’t remember ever wanting someone so much, so soon."

"Can I ask you something?"

B'Elanna snorted derisively. "I’m lying here buck naked with you. What do you think?"

"Point taken. When I ran into you that day on Tampa, I cut your cheek. Why didn’t you get it treated?"

"Like I told you before, I just didn’t want to have it removed. I didn’t really know why at the time—I mean I knew I was attracted to you, and that leaving it as it was implied much more familiarity than we had at the time—but I don’t think I was aware of why it pleased me so much to carry your mark. It just made me feel complete somehow, even though it was just an illusion. I guess I was enjoying the fantasy of belonging to someone."

Kieran raised herself off of B'Elanna’s chest, kissing her lingeringly. "It’s no illusion now," she said softly, biting B'Elanna’s bottom lip and caressing the fresh wound on B'Elanna’s neck. She knew touching that mark would always arouse her partner, now, and B'Elanna did not disappoint her.

_________________

 

Over breakfast, Naomi explained what she had been studying with the Doctor.

B’Elanna was staring at Kieran, thinking about the night before. "Speaking of the Doctor, don’t you have an appointment with him this morning?" she sipped her coffee pensively.

"You’re right—thanks for reminding me. I think he’s going to clear me for aerobic activity, although now that I have an artificial heart, I guess I don’t have to worry about keeping healthy heart tissue."

Naomi quirked an eyebrow. "But you still have to worry about the vascular system, overall, don’t you?"

Kieran tousled her hair. "Yes, Professor, I do. How’d you get to be so smart?"

Naomi shrugged. "My mom was pretty smart. And now I live with two of the smartest women in the universe," she said with a tone of genuine respect. "I guess I’m picking up stuff. And I’ve been tagging along after this Klingon, who is pretty bright," Naomi complimented the Chief Engineer.

B’Elanna grinned at her little Ktarian friend. "You must want something, if you’re flattering me at this hour of the morning," she accused playfully.

Naomi grew serious. "No—you really are smart, ’Lanna. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. You seem sort of—far away."

Kieran smiled broadly, her eyes clearly saying "Try to explain that to her." She was surprised when B’Elanna took her hand right in front of Naomi, saying "I am sort of preoccupied, Naomi. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude."

The gesture wasn’t lost on Naomi, whose mental wheels were visibly turning. "Oh," she replied, the meaning registering suddenly. "That’s okay," she smiled sweetly at the two women. "More than okay."

Kieran was relieved. She had been a bit apprehensive about Naomi’s reaction, considering that Naomi had been acting pretty infatuated with her. Though Naomi was a bit young for a crush, hero worship was definitely in her developmental repertoire, and Kieran didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Kids were tricky business when it came to their assumptions and expectations, and Kieran didn’t have much experience with being a child’s idol. She put her free hand on Naomi’s. "I’m glad you understand. You know, B’Elanna and I care a lot about you."

Naomi blushed. "I know. I’m glad, ‘cause I love you guys. Mommy told me once that love is like that—it multiplies—like an exponent in algebra. Seven and Kathryn loved me, first, and I think they started to love each other because they loved me. I like to take credit for it anyway," she giggled. "And now you guys love each other. I guess I should work on finding somebody for Neelix, next."

Kieran snickered. "Don’t get any delusions of grandeur, there, Cupid."

_______________

"Well, Counselor, it appears your new heart is functioning optimally," the Doctor studied the readout of his instrument. "Let’s take a look at the regenerated tissue around the point of incision."

Kieran obediently opened the bodice of her uniform and slipped off the gray undershirt, careful not to snag the pips on her hair as she lifted it over her head.

"Good heavens, Counselor!" The Doctor examined her closely. "What happened here?" He scanned the laceration where B'Elanna had marked her. "This needs to be treated. It—looks like a bite mark!" he muttered to himself, loading a hypospray with a broad spectrum antibiotic and an antiviral agent. He injected her. "Let me get a dermal regenerator," he said casually.

Kieran grabbed him by the holographic wrist. "Leave it, Doctor."

"Counselor?" he was dumbfounded.

"I said leave it."

That prompted his ire. "I will not leave it untreated, Lieutenant. That is going to scar unless I use the regenerator."

"I know. It’s okay."

The Doctor crossed his arms impatiently. "You cannot walk around this ship with an open wound."

Kieran sighed. "It is not an open wound. It is scabbed over."

The Doctor was fed up. He slapped his comm badge. "Sickbay to the Captain."

Oh shit, now the cat’s out of the bag. Kathryn will certainly know how I got that mark.

Janeway arrived shortly. "What’s this about you not wanting the Doctor to treat you, Counselor?" she asked with a hint of irritation.

"Captain, I’m sorry he interrupted your time off. It was totally unnecessary. I simply don’t want him to use a dermal regenerator on me."

"Kieran," Janeway was less perturbed now, "why not?"

Kieran sighed heavily. She pulled her uniform back, revealing the blood bond injury.

"I see," Janeway tried to hide the smile that threatened to curl her lips. "Doctor," she turned to the peeved projection, "you may not treat this injury."

"But Captain—" he started to quarrel, but Janeway was having none of that.

"Doctor, I’m not going to debate this with you. It is a matter of a private cultural custom with which you are not to interfere. Understood?"

"I don’t understand," he stammered. "Not only is Counselor Thompson injured, it appears she has been assaulted," he lowered his tone so that only Janeway could hear. "That looks like a bite wound."

"I’m aware of that, Doctor," she said dryly. Take a look at the cultural database. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of information regarding the significance of marking one’s mate among several known species. In the meantime, drop it. That’s an order."

His expression was one of astonishment. "Are you telling me someone bit her as part of a mating ritual? What’s next, Starfleet sanctioned cannibalism?"

"Doctor," Janeway’s voice was menacing, "that is quite enough from you. Don’t make me deactivate your matrix."

"Don’t bother," he sniffed haughtily. "Computer, deactivate EMH," he said coldly, and disappeared.

Janeway turned to her ship’s counselor. "Now do you understand why I said one hologram with an attitude is enough? He borders on insubordination as a matter of course," she groused. Then smiling faintly, she sat down on the biobed next to Kieran. "I see you proved my theory right—B'Elanna is ready for something serious," she nudged the younger woman.

Kieran couldn’t hide her smile, though she flushed from her chest to her forehead. "Apparently so," Kieran acknowledged.

Janeway smiled back at her. "I’m so happy for you, and for B'Elanna. She’s needed someone she can really trust and set down roots with. I hope Naomi wasn’t in the way last night."

"Not at all. B'Elanna and I adore her. She is amazingly perceptive though. She knew the minute we all sat down to breakfast that something was up between B'Elanna and I. It didn’t take her long to point out that we’re in love," Kieran laughed lightly.

"Are you, Counselor? In love?" Janeway’s face softened.

"Head over heels," she confessed, grinning sheepishly.

"Why didn’t you let me see if Neelix would have liked to have Naomi stay with him the rest of the weekend?" she asked petulantly. "I doubt that you really wanted to be playing Kadis-Kot and running Naomi’s Flotter program for the last three days."

"I made a commitment to you and to Naomi. I wasn’t about to break it, Captain."

"In that case, I’m going to have to relieve you and B’Elanna of duty. Take some time for yourselves. I believe a wise ship’s counselor once told me that getting a relationship off on the right foot was paramount. She mentioned that preventive maintenance is much easier than making repairs."

Kieran put an arm around the older woman. "I had no idea what I was getting myself into when you hired me," she repeated Janeway’s playful gripe of a prior conversation.

Janeway hugged her back. "Payback, Counselor. It’s a bitch, and so am I," she retorted. Then rubbing her hands gleefully together, she added, "Let’s have lunch in my quarters—say a couple of hours from now? I want details, Lieutenant, juicy details."

Kieran crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that an order, Captain?"

"Damn right. Don’t disappoint me," she laughed with an evil tone.

______________

"Come on in," Janeway ushered Kieran through the vestibule of her quarters. "I hope you like pasta," she added, playing hostess. "Why aren’t you in uniform?

Kieran shook her head. "I scheduled some free time so I could keep Naomi out of trouble," she smiled. "I figure, it’s your last day off for awhile, you might as well make the most of it. I’ll keep her busy, you keep Seven busy."

"Good—if you’re off duty, then we can have wine. I have something I think you’ll like," she started working the cork screw.

"Thank you, Captain." Kieran glanced around the quarters, having not really paid much attention to them the night she and B'Elanna had been over for dinner.

"Please—just call me Kathryn. I think we can dispense with the formalities, for now."

Kieran pointed to a photograph on a curio shelf. "May I look at this?"

"That’s why it’s on display," Janeway returned, finally extricating the stubborn cork with a resounding "POP!".

Kieran studied the photo. It was from a party celebrating Kathryn’s 25^th year as a Starfleet Officer. She stood with Seven and Naomi, flanked by B'Elanna and Tom on one side, Chakotay and Tuvok on the other. Kieran noted that even then, B'Elanna was not happy with Tom. It showed on her face, and in her eyes there was something else. Envy. She envied the Captain and Seven. Kieran replaced the photo without comment.

Janeway handed her a glass of wine. "This is from the Picard vineyards," she explained.

Kieran’s eyebrow shot skyward. "What’s the occasion?" Wine from earth was almost as precious a commodity as dilithium.

"I feel like celebrating," Kathryn toasted her lunch date. "I couldn’t be happier," she added. "My marriage is on solid ground, my daughter is recovering from her recent ordeal, my Chief of Engineering is in love," she waggled her eyebrows at Kieran, "and I have made a new friend," she inclined her head to indicate she meant Kieran.

Kieran smiled uncertainly, pleased but blindsided by the affectionate compliment. She lifted her glass in response.

"Don’t look so surprised," she motioned the Counselor over to the dinner table. "Even I have a few friends," she teased.

Kieran unfolded her napkin carefully. "I suspect you have a great many friends, Kathryn. You are eminently likeable. I was just thinking that you aren’t the kind of person who says things like that lightly, and that’s why I was surprised."

"You’re right, I don’t call anyone a friend lightly. I’m a little surprised myself, frankly. But I just feel so comfortable around you, and I really appreciate that you don’t seem to be the least bit intimidated by me."

Kieran laughed. "I just hide it well," she quipped. Then digging into her meal, she murmured in appreciation. "This is great," she enthused. "Wow. D’you think you could give Neelix a few lessons?"

Janeway chuckled. "I doubt that an instructional holoprogram of Julia Child, Graham Kerr, and Paul Prudholme could save Neelix’ cooking," she snorted. "I’ve been thinking maybe the Doctor should conduct some studies to figure out why the Talaxian palate seems to have no sensitivity to hot or bitter foods." Her dinner companion burst out laughing.

"You are wicked, Kathryn Janeway," Kieran chewed merrily. "God, you crack me up." Then more seriously, she added "I guess I’m really not intimidated by you. I don’t feel apprehensive around you, anyway. And I really enjoy your company. By the way, thanks for stepping into the fray in sickbay this morning. Sometimes, Holodoc can be a little dense. I didn’t want to have to tell him B'Elanna and I had been rolling around like trash all night. I mean, I knew if I said so, he’d probably send out a ship wide communiqué to let everybody know."

"Were you?" Janeway smirked. Kieran raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "Rolling around like trash all night?" Janeway amended, mightily amused.

"We were—passionate, but not trashy," she confided, grinning.

"Passionate? I would’ve said you were in the grips of insanity, from the looks of that bite B'Elanna gave you. I hope you’re really okay. The Doctor was pretty horrified by it."

"I’m fine. Besides, the holo-wonder gave me a hypospray to prevent any infection. It should leave quite a nice scar," she said with a touch of pride. "And B'Elanna wasn’t about to be outdone by a mere human," she snickered.

"You mean you left a wound on her that size?"

"Not as big, but much deeper," Kieran enjoyed the look of disbelief on Kathryn’s face. "She’s not my first Klingon lover," she said by way of explanation.

"Do tell," Janeway settled in for a good gossip-fest.

"She was a cadet at the Academy with me," Kieran began.

___________

Kieran sent a single rose to Engineering every day that B'Elanna worked for the next four months. They sent notes on each other’s comm accounts, spent their nights making love and blissfully sleeping in each other’s arms, and somehow managed to go unnoticed by most of the crew, though they weren’t trying to hide anything.

They were regular dinner guests of Seven and Kathryn, played doubles Velocity with them once a week, and the four women were planning a vacation together, with Naomi of course. Kieran had continued to work with Naomi, who seemed to have only slight emotional scars from the Maltanian abduction. It had not been easy to listen to the horror stories as the brave K’tarian’s memories returned one by one, but they had helped each other get through it. Kieran knew Naomi loved her, and Kieran couldn’t have loved Naomi more if she’d been Kieran’s own child.

Kathryn was more at ease for having such a full life: a family, close friends, a future. Seven’s increased social circle meant she was increasingly less aloof and Borg-like, and she felt a strong affection for her new friends. B'Elanna was teaching her how to fight with a Bat’leth, and Seven was finding she loved the artistry of Klingon warfare. Kieran and Kathryn had become very close, so much so that Kathryn shared her Da Vinci program with the Counselor. Kieran was trying to recruit the Captain for the softball team, but Janeway had protested vehemently so far. Kieran knew it was only a matter of time until Kathryn gave in.

After dating six months B'Elanna had begun to sense a shift in her relationship with Kieran. Things had begun to feel more settled, more permanent. One day, Kieran sent a dozen roses to Engineering, breaking stride with her custom of sending only a single rose. The arrival of the bouquet caused a stir among the Engineering crew. Speculation ran high in favor of a reconciliation between the Chief and the fair-haired helmsman.

The plain white card contained only a phrase in Klingon, and no signature. B'Elanna grinned to herself at the mere idea of Tom Paris knowing any Klingon words that weren’t profane, but she wasn’t letting on as to who had sent the full, red blossoms. She fingered the petals of one particularly dark bloom, remembering the night before, and thinking how closely the color of the flower resembled blood. Her pulse quickened at the thought, her fingers inadvertently touching the mark Kieran had placed on her.

Tom had never bothered to learn any Klingon customs, and would probably have balked if she had explained and suggested blood bonding. B'Elanna was so glad now that she had never had that sort of connection with him, and bore no marks from him. She sniffed the flowers, felt her heart swell with love, and remembered brown eyes. She logged on to her comm account, and sure enough, Kieran had left her a message.

B'Elanna:

You have claimed me, and I am yours. My blood surges in your veins.

I know you thought of blood when you saw the roses. I know you touched
the mark I left on you. Touch it now, and know that I have claimed you. You
are mine. You have the heart of a warrior. It is mine to hold now.
Know that you hold mine as well. I love you.

Kieran

B'Elanna felt her knees threaten to give way as she read those words, which were beyond seductive in the Klingon tradition. To a human, she supposed, they would seem strange, but Kieran knew how to reach into B'Elanna with fierce tenderness and leave her gasping, just with words alone. She had to steady herself at the console, gripping it firmly. No one had ever had this effect on her. She wondered if she could survive the intensity.

Another message arrived, which provided a much needed distraction. It was from Seven.

You are cordially invited to the mess hall this Tuesday at 1700 hours to celebrate the seventh birthday of Naomi Wildman, Bridge Assistant to Captain Janeway. Party hats are mandatory at the request of the birthday girl. Non-regulation attire is preferred. RSVP.

B'Elanna smiled. Seven was really getting the hang of this etiquette thing. Now what would a seven year old genius like for a birthday present, she wondered. Maybe I’ll get her her own plasma relay, so she can play engineer, B'Elanna mused. Naomi had proven she would one day make an excellent engineer.

Thinking about one present made B'Elanna think about another. Kieran had obviously been incredibly aware of and sensitive to B'Elanna’s Klingon customs, and it made B'Elanna feel not only understood, but honored and cherished. Her human half had certainly been romanced before, but never her Klingon half. She wanted to be sure Kieran’s human customs were honored, as well. She accessed her comm account again, and sent Kieran a note.

BangwIj:

Please meet me in holodeck 2 at 1900 hours. Bring a swim suit and sun glasses.

Her console beeped with an acceptance reply. She grinned. This was going to be fun.

__________

Kieran entered holodeck 2 and was greeted by holographic dark skinned women in grass skirts, who adorned her with flower necklaces and smiled, saying "Mahalo, Kieran. Come this way." Kieran laughed. B'Elanna was ‘taking her’ to Hawaii, a notorious Earth honeymoon destination, considered by 24^th Century earthlings to be the most romantic place to vacation. She followed the bare breasted women who took her to the beach, where B'Elanna had set out a huge blanket under a cabana. The delectable Klingon was stretched out in her bikini, beside a rather opulent picnic dinner. The escorts excused themselves, again saying "Mahalo." B'Elanna discarded her sun glasses and jumped up to greet her lover.

"Hi," she said shyly, sliding her arms around Kieran’s neck.

"Hi yourself," Kieran replied. "B'Elanna, this is beautiful," she said appreciatively. "You programmed this?"

"Mm hmm. There’s this woman I’m in love with—I was hoping to sweep her off her feet," she gazed up into those hypnotic brown eyes. "Do you think it will be effective?"

Kieran’s eyes were bright with laughter. "Dressed like that, you could sweep her off her feet in a holographic garbage scow," she commented, looking the chiseled woman up and down. "You are so gorgeous," she murmured, unable to do anything but stare at B'Elanna, mouth agape.

"The flowers were lovely," B'Elanna stroked her cheek affectionately. "Thank you. You’d better not send me notes like that at work, though, BangwIj. I was distracted all day. I almost came to your office to make you take me."

Kieran kissed her softly. "You should have. I would have loved it." Then flirting, she continued "I’m here now." She touched the fading scar on B'Elanna’s neck, watching B'Elanna’s reaction closely. She closed her eyes, involuntarily drawing a sharp breath, and made a surrendering sort of sound in the back of her throat. Kieran kissed her deeply then, twining her fingers in the short, dark strands of B'Elanna’s hair, firmly pulling her head back to expose her neck. She dropped her face to the pink tissue, kissing it with fleeting lips as B'Elanna arched into the kisses, moaning.

They made love then, slowly, tenderly, just as Kieran had known it would be once the bond was forged. This was the paradox she so loved about Klingon women, that out of momentary savage lust could grow such sweetness, such desire. She would gladly endure it a thousand times if it meant possessing B'Elanna’s heart. She had often wondered if the blood bonding was anything more than another type of Klingon test, to judge the worthiness of a lover, before allowing any gentleness or vulnerability to show. She knew it was something more, something pheremonal and hormonal and instinctual, but she was sure it had just as much to do with proving oneself worthy. Klingons were all about demonstrating courage, recklessness, strength. At least until you were bonded to one. Then the softer side presented itself in all its varying shades of complexity. Kieran believed no one could understand love completely if they’d never loved a Klingon.

When they’d had their transitory fill of each other, they lay together, cuddling and feeding each other from the picnic B'Elanna had prepared. Kieran loved tropical fruit, and B'Elanna loved watching her devour juicy spears of pineapple, papaya, and mango, kissing the drops from Kieran’s fingers and chin. B'Elanna concentrated on the cold boiled shrimp, preferring salty foods to sweet, except for an occasional banana pancake indulgence. Kieran fed her macadamia nuts that were salted, intermingling tidbits of food and explorative kisses.

They curled up together, letting the afternoon sun warm them. Kieran felt her eyes watering, she was so happy. How could this be happening? She had gone from being a face in the crowd to being the ship’s counselor, the Chief Engineer’s lover, and the Captain’s confidante in less than a year. B'Elanna was the most precious gift, and more than any one person deserved, yet she had been blessed with even more.

B'Elanna felt Kieran’s tears as they spilled onto her own cheek. "What’s wrong?" she whispered, alarmed.

"Nothing is wrong. Everything is just so right, I’m a little overwhelmed by it. You came out of nowhere and captured my heart. It’s a bit of a shock." She held B'Elanna tightly, stroking her silky hair. "Sometimes I can’t believe it."

"Me either," B'Elanna agreed. "It’s almost funny. I mean, there I was at Seven and the Captain’s wedding, crying, aching inside for something I couldn’t identify. And then you came crashing into my life, literally, chasing that football, and I looked in your eyes. I knew then what I was missing, what I wanted. It was all so clear to me in that fraction of a second. I want someone who sees me when they look at me. Someone who can appreciate my Klingon side, who isn’t hung up about it, and who doesn’t want to exorcise it from my personality. Someone who doesn't have to hide from me in a holoprogram."

Kieran laughed softly. "You got all that from me flattening you?"

B'Elanna joined her in laughing. "I know, that’s a lot of information to process in the three seconds you were laying on top of me, but I swear, it’s true. That’s why I didn’t remove the cut from my cheek. On some subliminal level, I knew you were the one, and I that I was meant to belong to you."

"And I to you," she kissed her lover’s brow ridges. "I have the scar to prove it."

B'Elanna hugged her tightly. "I want you to have something besides an injury," she remarked. "Something you don’t have to hide under your clothes, or try to explain to anyone who sees it." She rolled over and reached into the basket, retrieving a box from the bottom. "You’ve been so attentive to my customs, BangwIj. I wanted to try to honor yours."

Kieran opened the box to find a gold band with an inlaid row of diamonds. She wasn’t entirely sure of the precise intent. It could be interpreted as a marriage proposal. It could signify a first promise to become engaged, although Kieran hadn’t heard of anyone receiving a promise ring since she was a child. A blood bond was roughly the equivalent of a first promise, and she had performed the ritual mating with B'Elanna. All that remained in Klingon tradition was the oath, and the wedding ceremony itself. B'Elanna must intend it as an engagement ring, she thought, but if she were wrong, it might be damaging to their relationship, or at the very least, awkward.

B'Elanna noted with dismay that Kieran hadn’t said a word. She swallowed her growing anxiety, and said in the smallest of voices, "You don’t like it."

Kieran looked up, startled. She chose her words very carefully. "I do. It’s almost as beautiful as you. But I’m not sure how to interpret what it means. Help me out, here, because I don’t want to say the wrong thing."

They were sitting facing each other. Kieran took B'Elanna’s hands. Finally B'Elanna said "What do you want it to mean?"

"Honestly, B'Elanna, I want it to mean whatever you intended it to mean. It could be interpreted as everything from going ‘steady’ to being promised to being engaged."

B'Elanna’s brow furrowed. "Oh. Well I never heard of going ‘steady’, whatever that is. And I think being promised is pretty archaic—do people do that, anymore?"

Kieran’s hands were starting to shake. "So you’re asking me to marry you?"

B'Elanna dropped her eyes, afraid of what she might see. "That was the general idea."

Kieran threw her arms around her anxious lover, then, squeezing the air from her lungs. "I love you, B'Elanna. But when you propose to someone, you’re supposed to tell them that’s what you’re doing," she laughed.

B'Elanna slapped her forehead. "Oh Kahless’ balls on a Bat’leth. I forgot about that. And after Seven told me all about how she proposed to Kathryn, you’d think I’d have done it right. I’m so sorry. I was trying so hard to get a perfect handle on how to court you, and I made a mess of it. Can you forgive me Kieran?"

Kieran nodded slowly. "I know that the oath is the actual proposal of marriage." She thought about it momentarily. "I would take the oath now, if I knew it, B'Elanna. I’m ashamed to say, I haven’t ever heard it, and I’ve only begun to memorize it from the database. I was going to learn it and surprise you some night. I thought I’d have a little time to get it right. I’m sorry, BangwIj, but I guess we both kind of muddled our way through this. Jesus, some xenopsychologist I am," she castigated herself. "I wanted to make this perfect for you," she said sadly.

After long minutes of silence, B'Elanna burst out laughing.

"What?" Kieran asked, unable to see anything funny about their clumsy attempts to undertake the most serious commitment of their lives.

B'Elanna was delirious. "It’s just—we are so totally pathetic!" Then she was off on a gale of laughter, her delicious, lilting amusement warming Kieran’s heart.

That got Kieran laughing too. "We suck," she agreed, howling with her lover.

When they had wiped the tears from their eyes and gained a modicum of control over their hilarity, B'Elanna, still chuckling, and still naked, got on her knees. She was intending to propose properly, but got cracked up again. All she could manage to say through her guffaws was "So are we engaged, or not?"

Kieran had yet another giggling fit. "Hell, let’s flip a coin. No—wait—let’s see if we can borrow Tom’s Magic 8 Ball!" she shouted, sending them both into another paroxysm of mirth.

B'Elanna was holding her sides. "No—it’d probably just give us the ‘ask me later’ response!"

They were gasping for air, the mood utterly destroyed, but having the time of their lives.

"You realize of course, we’ll never be able to get the words out now, without falling out laughing," Kieran’s amusement rumbled in her chest.

B'Elanna sighed happily, pinning Kieran down on the blanket with her sturdy frame. "It’s fitting, though, if you think about it. I mean, I met the love of my life because some clown threw a football too far, and she jumped on top of me trying to catch it. At least we’re ridiculous in a consistent way."

"If this is a premonition of the tone of all the major life events we’re going to share, then you, my love, can bear the offspring," Kieran was laughing again. "God knows they’ll be born ass-backward."

"Better that than having to pass those sharp little brow ridges first," she retorted. "And I wouldn’t mind carrying your child," she added seriously, touching her beloved’s face.

"You mean it?" Kieran held her eyes with a hopeful gaze.

"Yes. If you’ll marry me, that is." B'Elanna’s face was devoid of humor now.

Kieran studied her thoughtfully. "I will," she agreed, "if you’ll have me."

"I will. I love you, you know." Then grinning like a Cheshire cat, she announced triumphantly "We did it! It wasn’t exactly eloquent, but we did it!"

Kieran retrieved the forgotten ring and gave it to B'Elanna. "Put it on me," she demanded. B'Elanna obligingly did so. "There! It’s official. No backing out on me, now, Torres," she growled playfully.

"I’d never back out on you," B'Elanna wasn’t playing any longer. "I am yours. I swear it."

___________________

Epilogue

Seven of Nine lit the seventh and final candle on the huge birthday cake, and started singing the traditional birthday song for her daughter. There were so many people in attendance, the mess hall reverberated with the sound of voices. Naomi Wildman sat at the head of the table, dressed in a frilly party dress, wearing a pointed foil hat with pink fringe erupting from the top. The table was piled high with presents. As the only child on Voyager, Naomi tended to get a lot of attention at such an event, and Janeway wondered wryly where they’d ever store all her booty.

Seven placed the cake on the table as the song ended. Naomi screwed up her face, thinking of a wish, and blew out the candles to uproarious applause. Seven scooted up behind Kathryn, wrapping her arms around the delicate waist of her spouse. "I think it is safe to say she has recovered from her trauma," Seven whispered to no one but Kathryn.

Kathryn nodded. "Let’s hope so. That poor child has had nothing but trouble in the last couple of years." Kathryn surveyed her crew, gratified that so many had turned out for the party.

Seven kissed Kathryn’s cheek from behind her. "She has been through a lot, but she knows how much she is loved. As do I. Thank you, Kathryn."

Janeway folded her hands over Seven’s arms, which held her tightly. She spied B'Elanna and Kieran, who were handing Naomi present after present to open, reading the cards aloud as they left her to the task of tearing away wrapping paper. Janeway nudged Seven. "Look at that—Kieran’s wearing an engagement ring," she whispered.

Seven’s eyebrow arched skyward. "Indeed." As soon as the last gift was ceremoniously unwrapped, Seven called out "Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres. Do you have something you would like to share with the crew?" she asked pointedly.

Taken completely unawares, B'Elanna stuttered as if to make an excuse, while Kieran was blushing profusely. The assembled guests fell silent, waiting for whatever was so important that Seven was willing to interrupt Naomi’s party.

Janeway couldn’t resist needling the flustered engineer. "Well, Lieutenant?" she demanded in her iciest command voice. "Out with it!"

"Uh—ahem," B'Elanna cleared her throat. "I am pleased to announce that Counselor Kieran Thompson has apparently lost her mind, after providing therapy for all you lunatics, because she has agreed to marry me, though only Kahless and all the Gods know why," she grinned at her intended, gazing up at her with quiet affection. Kieran kissed her then, softly, sweetly.

They were bombarded by catcalls, congratulations and questions about dates, times, places. Kieran held up her hands. "Hang on," she pleaded. "We haven’t set a date yet. It took us so long to figure out we actually are engaged, we haven’t even thought about trying to formalize anything else. But you’ll be the first to know when we set a date," she joked. "Now, if you don’t mind, B'Elanna and I are going to slink off and deal with our embarrassment—thank you so much, Seven, Captain—and Naomi is going to cut her birthday cake. Naomi," she turned the assemblage’s attention back where it belonged. "Please do the honors."

Naomi beamed at her, smiling ear to ear. "I can’t believe it!" she shouted. "It really works!"

"What works, sweetie?" Neelix asked.

"The birthday wish," she explained excitedly. "Seven and Kathryn are so happy now, and I wanted B'Elanna and Kieran to be that happy too. So I wished B'Elanna and Kieran would get married! And they are!" Then with a bit of chagrin, she added "I guess I could’ve had that little sister, after all. Moms, will you remind me next year?" she asked Seven and Kathryn, grinning.