This story contains a description of a loving and consensual f/f relationship between two right-thinking adults. If this is likely to offend you, well bitch to reality not to me and don't read this. It also utilises characters and locations owned by Paramount/Viacom and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm not making any money from this, which is just as well because I don't think I could handle a writing career. If you want to write to me with comments/critiscism I can be reached here.

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Falling

When the Federation Starship Voyager glided out of Spacedock five years ago, it was the most advanced starship in the fleet. It still looked the part, from the outside at least. Its white-painted hull gleamed under the muted light of innumerable distant stars. It displayed its registry proudly, showing it to be an Intrepid class vessel - the best thing Starfleet designers had to offer.

After five years lost in deep space, far from any sign of home or port, however, the ship was beginning to show signs of wear on the inside. Which provided some interesting and diverting problems for the engineering staff, mused Ensign Susan McGuire as she tinkered and adjusted under a console in main Engineering, trying to find some reason for the continuing fluctuations in Plasma Conduit 13-kappa.

This particular conduit had been displaying anomalous flow readings for a few weeks now and the Engineering staff were baffled as to the source of the problems. It was nothing to worry about just yet - it wasn't affecting the other systems - but it was an annoying problem that worried at the back of the mind.

"Do you need any help?" a voice called abruptly, causing Susan to rise up sharply and strike her head painfully against the bottom of the console. She bit off a profane outburst before it even left her mouth and scrambled to get out of the confined space.

And came face to face with her sister.

Or, at least, someone who bore a close enough resemblance to make Susan silent and frozen with shock. She realised she was staring but she couldn't help it. Here was the same rich auburn hair, the same fine, high cheekbones. Even the glint in the warm green eyes was the same - open and friendly with just a hint of mischief.

"Oh, God I'm so sorry!" the woman exclaimed and the voice was so different from the soft, lyrical Scottish tones she associated with that face as to break into her shock induced haze.

"No...no, I'm fine," the ensign said quickly, standing swiftly. Now that the initial haze had passed she found herself picking up on points about this woman that were different from her sister. She took in - with a sense of relief she didn't care to analyse too closely - the slight difference in height and build, the slightly different shape of the mouth.

"Well, I think I've done enough damage for one day," said the woman, blushing to the roots of her hair, "I'd better get back to work."

Susan watched her go and, unbidden, an image flashed through her mind - she and her sister playing as children, Karen tickling her sides and Susie laughing so hard she thought she might burst from giggling and squirming and from being as deliriously happy as only a pure and unblemished child can be.

Susan shook the image from her mind angrily, pushing it down into that dark spot at the pit of her stomach where she kept all such memories and the emotions they housed. Climbing back under the console, the young engineer forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

She never did find the cause of the fluctuations so it was a weary and frustrated Susan McGuire who logged off duty at the end of Alpha shift some three hours later. All in all it had been a trying day, the Engineering Department even busier than normal and Lt Torres in a bear of a mood for some reason. Not to mention that incident with her sister's doppleganger. Susan suppressed a sigh as she reflected on that.

Susan was a loner by choice although most people were not content to leave her that way. On such a small ship it was nigh impossible to keep too low a profile. After all, there were only 150 people on board and it was a rare occasion when you met someone whose name you didn't know instantly.

That's what made today's incident so odd - Susan could honestly say that she had never seen that woman before. She had discovered later that her sister's double had previously worked Gamma shift and, since Susan had always worked Alpha shift, their paths had simply never crossed. That and the fact that Susan tried to avoid too much social contact as a general rule. Oh, she went to parties and the obligatory talent nights but she tried, wherever possible, to maintain a distance from the rest of the crew. As a consequence, while she was reasonably easy going and friendly, there was no-one on the ship who really knew her or could call themselves her friend.

And that was just the way she liked it.

The doors hissed shut behind her and she relaxed a little now that she was within the comforting parameters of her own space. Her quarters were impeccably clean but spartan, with little to show that she had called these rooms home for over five years. The replicator was where she was headed now, though. After such a tough day in Engineering, all she wanted was to get something to eat and an early night. She was actually quite looking forward to curling up with a good book as she ordered the computer to provide her with a mug of Darjeeling - one of the few constants in her life aboard Voyager.

Susan had to physically restrain herself from spitting her first sip of tea across the room. She contented herself with a grimace as she stared down at the mug, as if staring could change the taste of the dark brown liquid inside.

"Computer, perform a diagnostic on this replicator," she ordered, placing the cup down on a table and stepping as far away from it as possible.

"This replicator is functioning within normal parameters," the computer's clear, feminine tones replied. Susan knew what that meant. Either her tastebuds were shot to hell or the malfunction in the replicator was too subtle for the computer to detect. Concluding that the latter of the two was more likely, she removed the outer casing and proceeded to investigate amongst the complex circuitry.

It looked like the early night would have to wait till later.

It was an hour into Beta shift on the day Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager dreaded - Departmental Reports Day. Janeway was, predictably, still sitting at her ready room desk going through them, making the occasional note here and there and feeling as if she might cry with boredom. Paperwork: the bane of Starfleet captains the galaxy over - even this particular one who was currently a great many years journey away from the others.

Janeway surveyed her desk, taking in the bone china cup with the remnants of some long-forgotten brew of coffee; the computer console displaying current ship's status; the small pile of reports she had already reviewed; the depressingly large mountain of PADDS awaiting her attention.

The captain sat back in her chair a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose as she yawned. A yawn that was as much due to lack of sleep as it was bored frustration.

Ever since her ship had been lost in the Delta Quadrant some five years previously, Captain Kathryn Janeway had been forced to accept a great many more responsibilities than her Alpha Quadrant peers. Out here in uncharted and unfamiliar space she was the sole figure of Starfleet authority, a rock for her crew to cling to in a journey which, all-too-often, was as erratic as a fast moving river. The Doctor - an Emergency Medical Hologram forced to adopt full crew status - often reprimanded her for working "absurdly long hours" and for not eating regular meals and generally taking no care of herself at all. But that was all a part of the mantle of duty she had created for herself - responsibility which insisted that getting the crew home was her first priority, even, perhaps especially, over her own health and happiness. She accepted that duty freely...but even so, it was a great weight on her shoulders.

She yawned again, feeling that weight most keenly now, not whilst in the middle of a battle or crisis but while dealing with the banal minutiae of bureaucracy.

According to B'Elanna's latest Engineering report, that department had been experiencing some problems with one of the plasma conduits - specifically Plasma Conduit 13-kappa. It was nothing to worry about yet but it piqued Janeway's interest slightly and she called up the log for that particular repair. It stated that various officers had been working on the conduit, the most recent being Ensign Susan McGuire who had spent three hours on it before she logged off duty just over an hour previously. Janeway frowned. It was odd on a ship so small for her to come across a name she did not instantly recognise, even among the lower ranks.

She pulled up McGuire's personnel record, realising even as she did so that this was more to break the monotony than anything else. Still, she was curious and it couldn't hurt to refamiliarise herself with this ensign.

Something very interesting hit her like a slap in the face the moment she opened the record and she sat up straight and read the first few lines again. Intrigued now, Janeway scrolled down the rest of the pages, then reread them when she reached the end. On the second reading, a set of dates buried deep within the text caught her attention and she quickly cross-referenced with the main database. Sure enough, her hunch was accurate.

The captain scrolled back up to the top, concentrating on the photograph, trying to place the young woman. She took in the beautiful face with detached appreciation, the jet black hair that fell past the ensign's shoulders in waves, the fine high cheekbones and the blue/green eyes that reminded Janeway remarkably of the sea on the northern coast of France on a bright summer day.

It was those eyes which affected Janeway the most, not because of their colour but because there seemed to be something missing from them. She could see it even in the photograph...as subtle and intangible as a phantom but definitely real.

The reports forgotten for the moment, the captain queried the computer as to the ensign's location, discovering that she was in the MessHall.

Janeway decided that it was time she and Susan McGuire were formally introduced.

Susan McGuire truly detested eating in the MessHall.

This was not because of Neelix's incessantly chirpy attempts to engage her in conversation or because of the relentless stream of crew that constantly went in and out. Quite simply, Susan did not like alien food. And Neelix's concoctions were about as alien as it was possible to get.

Presently, the young ensign was sitting alone at the far corner of the room, her back to the distorted stars streaming past outside the ship's thick duranium hull. She was picking at a plate of some unidentifiable light brown mush that Neelix had plonked down in front of her and urged her to "Enjoy!" From the few bites she had actually managed to swallow, she knew that it tasted vaguely like beef but had the consistency of goose liver.

She was beginning to feel that she should have taken her chances with the replicator when she sensed another presence at her table. She looked up and immediately recognised Captain Kathryn Janeway - Voyager's formidable commanding officer.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?" she asked, with a hint of a grin curling the corners of her mouth heavenward. Despite the lightness of the tone Susan felt herself flinch at the mention of her mother. She tried to conceal the shadow that briefly flickered across her features but she could tell that Janeway had noticed.

Janeway, however, made no comment. Instead she smiled and asked permission to be seated. Susan, who could not think of a way to refuse without being insulting to a superior officer, assented.

"So," Janeway began, "what does Neelix have for us today." Susan gestured towards her plate by way of answer.

"He calls it 'chilandias.' Apparently it's quite a delicacy on Talax." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you don't want to be up all night, I'd recommend another choice."

Janeway laughed at that, something McGuire had never had the good fortune to hear before. It struck her suddenly that the captain looked much younger when she laughed, less stressed and troubled. It was quite intriguing to watch and Susan found herself staring until Neelix approached the table and broke into the moment.

"Ah, good day Captain! Can I get you anything?" the Delta Quadrant native asked cheerfully, his light golden eyes twinkling underneath his bristling eyebrows

Janeway glanced at Susan again, smiling, before she turned her attention to Neelix.

"Just coffee thank-you Neelix, I'm not staying."

Neelix looked a little confused then his face cleared as he realised what day today was. "Oh, of course, it's departmental reports day, isn't it captain? I understand. Although I was hoping you would try some of my chilandias today. It's delicious, isn't that right Ensign?"

Susan favoured him with a weak, non-committal smile as she hastily took another small bite of the repulsive concoction. After Neelix had delivered the captain's coffee she allowed herself a small shiver.

"That stuff'll keep you awake all night too, you know."

"That's the idea. You are talking to the master of the all-nighter."

"Oh yeah? When I was a kid I once stayed up for four consecutive days and nights...just for the hell of it."

"Four? That's pathetic, my record's eight!"

Susan decided not to mention that such a thing was almost certainly impossible because, for one, she was quite enjoying the jovial banter passing between them. The other reason was, of course, that she wasn't entirely sure that Kathryn Janeway couldn't have done it.

"You served on the Enterprise didn't you, Ensign? Did you know Commander Data?" Data had been one of the first people Janeway had met on her first trip off Earth when she'd gone to Mars with her father. He'd been a cadet then but Janeway often thought about the pale-skinned, golden-eyed android who'd been so tolerant of the eager questions a young Kathryn Janeway had fired at him almost constantly.

"Only in passing," Susan replied. "I was only a cadet and I was on a security placement at the time. I reported to Lieutenant Worf."

"Security? Then you might have come into contact with that Borg they found, what was his name...?" Janeway pretended not to know the name even though she had read it only a few minutes before up in her ready room. She didn't want to be too obvious about this, didn't want to make it look like she'd just read the ensign's record and was now down here to satisfy her curiosity...even though that was exactly what was occurring.

"Hugh." Susan said softly. "His name was Hugh." The shadow was back, though less pronounced this time. Whereas before it had flickered across her whole face, now it merely rested in her eyes making them appear dull and smoky.

"Yes, Hugh. Did you know him?"

"We had a few conversations, nothing major. He sometimes felt like talking when I was on Brig duty. He was lonely."

"Indeed," said Janeway, an idea beginning to form in her mind. "Have you ever talked to Seven of Nine about this? I know she'd be interested."

"Oh, Captain I don't know-" Susan's protest was cut off abruptly as the doors to the Mess Hall hissed open revealing Seven of Nine.

"Speak of the devil," Janeway murmured then raised her arm in greeting. Seven noticed her and approached the table, standing with her hands behind her back and her head slightly tilted as was her custom.

"Captain. Ensign." she greeted formally.

"Seven, have a seat," Janeway gestured to Susan as Seven sat gingerly beside the captain, "do you know Ensign McGuire?"

"I do not believe we have met."

"No, we haven't. Pleased to meet you," she said and extended her right hand across the table. Seven eyed it uncertainly for a moment then turned to the captain, confusion evident on her narrow features.

"Shaking hands is a human custom, Seven. We do it when we first meet someone." When Seven still looked uncertain, Janeway flashed her an indulgent smile and grasped her right hand, placing it in Susan's.

McGuire watched this exchange feeling slightly amused. The dominant emotion she was experiencing, though, was one she couldn't quite identify - one that insisted that Seven's ignorance of such a basic human custom and the way she had turned to Janeway for help was almost unbearably sweet; one that made her heart clutch slightly when Seven touched her hand and stared into her eyes as she shook it gently.

Then the contact was over as Seven pulled her hand away, turning her attention to Janeway once more.

"Are you still available for our scheduled Velocity match tomorrow captain?"

"Sorry, Seven I've got a pile of work to do," said Janeway, appearing genuinely apologetic. Then she got a bit of a glint in her eye as she said, "Instead of wasting the holodeck booking, why don't you and Ensign McGuire play? I'm sure you'll find lots to talk about." This last part she added with a significant glance in Susan's direction. Then she drained her coffee cup and excused herself, saying she still had a lot of work to do. Seven's eyes followed her go, her face displaying a hint of confusion, her eyebrow raised.

"Odd," she remarked softly, then returned her attention to Susan...

...who had absolutely no idea what to say to her. Conversation was not her strong suit at the best of times but it was far worse with someone like Seven. For this reason, it was surprising to both to women when the Borg made the first foray into communication.

"I have not seen you eating in the Mess Hall before, ensign," she stated with her customary precision.

"No, but there was something wrong with my replicator tonight."

Seven raised her eyebrow again, a gesture that Susan wondered if the Borg was even aware of. The expression the movement brought to Seven's face made Susan want to smile for some reason. It was quite unsettling to her. Though not as unsettling as how she had felt a few minutes earlier when she had touched Seven's hand. She gave herself a mental shake, suddenly feeling a little angry at herself for reasons she didn't care to think about.

"Would you like me to examine your replicator? Perhaps you would benefit from a fresh perspective."

Susan was about to politely refuse, indeed her lips were already forming the 'n' in 'no' when she stopped herself suddenly. It was true she had not had anyone in her quarters in the five years she'd been on Voyager and inviting people back there was not a habit she intended to start anytime soon. Then again, it was also true that she was willing to try almost anything in order to avoid eating Neelix's chilandias another night.

"Sure," she said finally and stood. "Come on."

Seven had only been working in the replicator's circuitry for a few minutes before she straightened up and indicated to Susan that she should try it now.

"So soon?" Susan asked but complied nonetheless, keying in a silent request for the cup of tea she had been unable to enjoy earlier.

"Wow!" she said emphatically after her first taste, "what did you do?"

"The pattern enhancer in the replicator was out of phase by 0.02 microns. It was sufficient to affect the taste of your beverage but not sufficient for the computer to detect. My Borg ocular implant is more perceptive than the computer, however."

"You can see a phase misalignment of 0.02 microns!"

"Yes." Seven answered succinctly.

"Well," Susan said, smiling, "I owe you one." There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments while the two women regarded each other.

"Um...would you like anything?" the ensign asked, gesturing towards the newly-repaired replicator.

"I am overdue for a nutritional supplement," Seven allowed.

"Well, you can have what I usually do," she said and keyed the replicator to provide two mugs of a sweet, steaming liquid that would provide enough energy and nutrients to keep an average human being healthy.

"Efficient," Seven said in a tone which could be taken as either surprise or admiration. Taking her cue from McGuire, Seven sat gingerly at the table, placing her mug on the surface.

"The captain suggested we play Velocity tomorrow. Would that be acceptable?"

Susan had never learned to play the game, even though it was all-the-rage on Voyager at the moment. But she supposed she should accept the invitation. While the captain had not ordered her to spend time with Seven and discuss her experiences with Hugh, it was clear that Janeway wanted that to happen. And when the captain wanted something, she generally got it.

"Sure. But you'll have to teach me the basics."

"Very well. The holodeck is booked for 1900 hours. Now, if you will excuse me, I must regenerate." Seven promptly drained her mug and rose. Susan walked her to the door, acknowledging that she was tired herself.

"Good-night Seven. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good-night ensign. Have...'pleasant dreams'."

Susie McGuire awoke to the sound of the dawn chorus just before sunrise. The world was still and tranquil in the quiet moments before dawn, bathed in milky twilight. The sky was mostly clear but dusted with wispy white clouds high in the atmosphere that gave the impression of the sky being filled with cobwebs. As Susie watched, the sun made an appearance on the horizon, its rays reaching out and washing the world in a carnival of colour.

It was going to be a gorgeous day.

Today, Susie McGuire's father, Robert, was going to introduce her to fishing. Traditionally a father/son activity, fishing was a pastime that Robert had indulged in with his own father until the old man's death, years before Susie was born. Robert McGuire, having no sons, was now passing this tradition on to his daughter.

The best time to fish was early morning so Robert and Susie arrived at the lake while the sun was still low in the sky. The sun, a pale yellow disc surrounded by an even paler pastel blue, shone down on the pair warmly as they readied their equipment.

Soon, father and daughter were fishing away happily. Susie, a chatterbox normally, was quiet for once, understanding that tranquillity was intrinsic to a proper enjoyment of this sport. Instead of talking she merely sat: watching her float bobbing in the calm water of the lake, listening to the sounds of wildlife around her and her father's rhythmic breathing, feeling the sun warming her pale skin as it rose in the sky. She looked up, taking in the sight of the darkening blue sky draped over a distant forest of Scotch pines and sighed softly. She had never been one to enjoy natural beauty much so the feeling of awe that filled her now was surprising. Instead of suppressing this, however, she merely smiled and embraced this new emotion.

Abruptly, she felt a pull on her rod. She looked towards her float, finding that it had been dragged below the surface of the water.

"You've got one, Susie! Reel it in now, like I showed you!"

Susie was only seven years old and not very strong. Consequently, it took her a full ten minutes to reel in her first fish...a fish that turned out to be an absurdly small Perch, weighing not more than 75 grams and only 5 centimetres long.

Susie McGuire went fishing many times in her life but the one fish that always stuck in her mind was that tiny Perch. Maybe it was because it was her first, maybe because her beloved father had been there, helping her...or perhaps it was simply because it had occurred in a day that was etched in her mind for years to come as one that was truly happy.

Susan woke abruptly sometime in the middle of the night, not sure what had woken her. Then, in fits and starts, the content of her dream came back to her. The engineer sighed and slumped back onto her bed, suddenly feeling desperately alone and adrift. She'd never dreamed about her family before, not once in the five years the ship had been lost. Such dreams were common among the rest of the crew, Susan knew. Like with her, the others did not relish having such dreams because they highlighted the fact that their loved ones were so far away.

Susan began to get angry at herself again - she did not get lonely, she did not allow herself to get lonely. She closed her eyes, falling back on the system that had served her so well all these years.

She pictured the memory in her mind, allowing it and the emotions it stirred up to wash over her. Then, almost savagely, she crushed the thought - compacting it into a small ball that she pressed down into that dark place in the pit of her stomach.

If it wasn't an altogether pleasant system, at least it allowed her to sleep at night.

Seven felt strangely preoccupied that night as she prepared for regeneration. She was considering her first meeting with Ensign McGuire. There was something about the young engineer, something that nagged at the back of her mind. It was subtle and intangible but still, Seven found herself disturbed by it. She had a 'gut feeling' about this woman, an experience she was not enjoying at all. It amazed her that Human's could function this way, basing decisions on emotions and flawed reasoning rather than logic. And this feeling was quite illogical.

"I grow more like them every day," she remarked to herself, not noting that she had begun talking to herself as well - another uniquely Human trait.

Still, there was some actual evidence to support the feeling of ...oddness was the only word she could think of...she experienced concerning Ensign McGuire. The engineer had not eaten solid food, and had indicated that she did not normally do so. Instead she had settled for the more efficient method of simply ingesting her required nutrients in liquid form. While Seven may have accepted this without question when she had first come to Voyager, now it disturbed her slightly. Captain Janeway had explained to her the importance Human's placed on eating. Indeed, food was often an intrinsic part of social rituals and considered a great part of the cultural experience. Not eating was not...normal. Seven hesitated over that word. She did not like it - logic dictated that since every human being was unique then there was no such thing as a normal human. On top of that, she felt it slightly hypocritical to accuse someone else of being abnormal when she herself was so different from the other beings on the ship.

When the Borg assimilated Annika Hansen at age six her individuality was utterly stifled. For eighteen years she existed only within the hive consciousness - a mindless drone whose only purpose was to fulfil the wishes of the collective. When her link to the Borg was severed at Captain Janeway's order, Seven of Nine - as she was now known - was forced to adapt to being an individual once more, a state in which she could barely remember existing to begin with. Over the two years she had been on Voyager Seven had slowly begun to accept her own blossoming sense of self - so much so that when given the chance to return to the collective she did not take it. In short, she was no longer Borg.

But neither was she human.

This caused Seven a great deal of confusion. She existed in a state of uncertainty, neither human nor Borg. There was no-one on the ship who could even begin to understand Seven's situation. She knew that she did not belong with the Borg. But she was not entirely certain she belonged with humans either.

This was something Seven did not like to think about. Instead, she thought about the next day's Velocity match. She considered the best way to teach Ensign McGuire the rules and principles of the game. After some careful reflection, she decided to use the same method as Captain Janeway had used with her. It was efficient.

Surprisingly, Seven began to feel some slight anticipation when she thought about the upcoming match. It was not something she normally experienced so she could only conclude that it was because of her new partner. This anticipation caused her heartrate to increase slightly and small flutters to manifest themselves in the pit of her stomach when she thought about the young ensign she had met today. It was odd...but not unpleasant so she did not try to suppress it as she stood in position and waited for the alcove to connect with her cranial implant.

Susan McGuire's face was the last thing that floated through her mind before the regeneration alcove pulled her into the refreshing darkness of Borg sleep.

"Good day, ensign," said Seven, addressing the woman who had just come through the holodeck doors wearing black, form-fitting workout gear. Seven was dressed in her usual black Velocity outfit - the one she wore when playing with the captain. In addition, her thick blonde hair had been let out of it's customary encasement and was now tied in a loose ponytail that reached just past her shoulder-blades.

"Hello, Seven. I'm sorry I'm a little late."

"You are only 3.4 minutes late. I am accustomed to waiting much longer for the captain."

Susan favoured Seven with a small smile, one that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Well," she began, in an overly cheery voice, "are you going to teach me this game or not?"

The next ten minutes were spent with Seven explaining the rules of the game and going over some simple strategies. The most important things to master, it seemed, were shot accuracy and three-dimensional geometry. Two things which Susan, thankfully, was good at which is what kept her from losing too badly. The final score was 7-3 in Seven's favour - a score which, she was assured, was extremely good for a beginner.

"As Humans would say," Seven had remarked, "you 'have a talent for it.'"

After the game they decided to go to the Mess Hall for drinks - definitely not for chilandias. Seven allowed Susan to choose and she selected a kind of fizzy, flavoured water that tasted vaguely like peaches. They chatted about the game for a few moments until Seven commented,

"Your accent, I do not recognise it. Where are you from?"

Susan abruptly sat back in her chair and a shadow flitted across her face.

"Scotland," she said shortly then stood suddenly saying, "Would you like another drink?"

Seven who had barely touched her first, politely declined and watched as Susan went to the replicator to fetch her own refill. That 'gut feeling' was back again. Susan had behaved in a decidedly odd manner when Seven had inquired about her place of origin, allowing distance to flavour her body language, becoming evasive and quickly changing the subject. Still, many crewmembers did not like talking about their homes and if Susan did not wish to talk about hers then Seven was not going to press the issue.

"Maybe next time I can choose the game," said Susan brightly as she returned to the table. The shadow that had clouded her features earlier was gone but her overly-wide smile did not touch her eyes. Seven raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly so that her left eye was closer to the ensign's face. Over her two years on Voyager, Seven had learned to be sensitive to the physical manifestations of emotion in humans. She noted that the skin on McGuire's cheeks was slightly redder than normal, indicating that she had been surprised or upset by something.

"What game would you suggest, ensign?" said Seven, the examination of Susan's physical reaction to emotion having taken mere nanoseconds.

"Oh, I don't know...em...how about chess?" Susan appeared flustered, almost as if she had not expected Seven to answer or she had not had a game in mind.

"Acceptable," Seven replied and took another sip from her glass. She found the flavour of the drink reasonably pleasing but its taste was largely irrelevant to her. She was only really drinking it because Susan had got it for her and she had learned it was impolite not to actually consume food or drink when offered it. The ever-present analytical part of her mind pointed out how illogical it was to follow the social rituals of a species she wasn't sure if she belonged with in the first place.

"Okay, well...maybe you could stop by my quarters tomorrow. How does 2000 hours sound?"

"Again, acceptable," said Seven. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must report to Astrometrics."

"I thought you'd finished your shift for the day?"

"That is correct but I must assist Lieutenant Torres. I requested that more power be diverted to the Astrometrics Lab and there was no time to do it during our shift."

"Oh...well, have fun."

For once, Seven did not feel it necessary to point out that 'fun' was irrelevant.

Susan breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the doors to her quarters hissed closed behind her. Despite the fact that these rooms were completely devoid of decoration or personal touches, Susan McGuire truly enjoyed being in her quarters. They were a kind of refuge for her - she who would be a loner if people would let her. In fact, no-one other than herself and Seven had ever been in these quarters for anything other than ship's business.

After a quick, efficient pass through the shower set on hydro mode, Susan entered the main living room, towelling her jet-black hair dry as she walked. She had changed from her workout outfit to a pair of light flannel pyjamas for she intended to retire after she had got some nutrients into her system. Approaching the replicator, she began to ask for her normal energy and nutritional drink...then stopped herself halfway through the sentence. She thought for a moment, then keyed in a different set of commands.

After her meal had materialised, she carried the plate over to the table. She had ordered a light pasta dish which she vaguely remembered eating once when she was younger. She chewed it slowly, lost in thought.

She knew she had behaved oddly when Seven had started asking about her home. She had mentally berated herself for it a million times since then but she could tell that Seven had picked up on it. Susan did not like to be reminded of her home, indeed she had actively tried to forget it in the twelve years since-

She stopped that thought before it could reach its conclusion and instead concentrated on today's encounter with Seven. When she had returned to the table she had gone over the top to appear normal and cheery - so much so that she had invited Seven to play another game before she quite realised what she was saying. When the Borg had accepted there was nothing Susan could do to avoid inviting Seven to her quarters again.

Susan sighed and rubbed her tired eyes as she swallowed her last bite. She had to admit she had enjoyed the pasta. While it was not as efficient as her usual practice, ingesting solid food did have its advantages.

After replicating a mug of Darjeeling to take to bed, Susan grabbed a PADD from her bedside drawer. She had been reading Jane Eyre on and off for a week or so and was getting to an interesting part. Jane Eyre had just been invited to have her fortune told by a gypsy. Settling back on her pillows Susan activated the PADD and began to read.

She had read the same paragraph five times before she realised her thoughts had strayed back to that evening's encounter with Seven. Shaking herself, Susan redoubled her efforts to concentrate.

"You are cold; you are sick; and you are silly."

"Prove it," I rejoined.

"I will; in a few words. You are cold, because you are alone: no contact strikes the fire from you that is in you. You are sick: because the best of feelings, the highest and sweetest given to man, keeps far away from you. You are silly, because, suffer as you may, you will not beckon it to approach; nor will you take one step to meet it where it waits you."

Susan read this exact passage a further three times, still lost in her own thoughts. Again and again she read...but she did not retain or understand.

"How does it look now?"

Seven looked down at her console and tapped a few controls until the correct display showed on the small screen.

"There has only been an increase of 0.7%. Negligible."

"Damn!" said Torres succinctly and threw her micro-spanner to the deck with a muted crash.

Seven said nothing - she had learned that when Voyager's fiery, half-Klingon Chief Engineer was in moods such as this one it was best not to incur her wrath.

"All-right. We'll try to divert some power from the secondary system backups."

Immediately, Seven began to comply with B'Elanna's suggestion, recognising that it would probably provide her with the 3% increase she had requested. For some moments the two women worked together in silence.

"May I ask you a question, Lieutenant?" asked Seven eventually, looking up from her console briefly.

"You just did," replied Torres who didn't even bother to glance up from her own work.

"Very well," Seven allowed. "Then may I ask you two questions?"

"Just get to the point would you Seven?"

"Do you know an ensign called Susan McGuire?"

"McGuire? Yeah, of course I do, she works in my department. Why d'you want to know?"

"I have recently begun to spend some time with her and I find her behaviour somewhat...erratic. I am wondering if this is normal behaviour for her or if it is my influence."

"Erratic?" said Torres, finally letting her eyes leave her console. "How so?"

"Well, today after our Velocity match I asked her where she came from and she became highly evasive and changed the subject. I also noticed certain physical indications of an emotional response to my query."

"Well," Torres began, folding her arms and leaning back against the console, "a lot of people don't like to talk about Earth too much. Maybe she was just feeling especially homesick today."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed, "but it is more than an isolated incident. I have, as human's would say, a 'feeling' about her."

Surprisingly, B'Elanna merely laughed and then, even more surprisingly, clapped Seven on the arm.

"I'm sure it's nothing Seven," she assured before the console bleeped, effectively pulling them both back to matters at hand.

"Power to the Astrometrics Lab has been increased by a further 3.01243%."

The two were silent for a moment.

"The word you're looking for is 'thankyou.'" B'Elanna said, looking up at Seven expectantly.

"...Thankyou?" Seven said uncertainly.

"See, that wasn't so hard now was it? Now, I'm getting out of here, and going to bed."

"Have a...'good night' Lieutenant," Seven called to B'Elanna's retreating back.

Susan gazed at the board contemplatively for a few moments before deciding on her move. She picked up the Queen and moved it four spaces diagonally left - a highly aggressive move so early in the game and one she hoped would unsettle her opponent who seemed to be adopting a defensive strategy. She was surprised when Seven countered with an attack of her own - a very effective one actually, that knocked the wind from her proverbial sails.

"I take it The Borg must have assimilated someone with a talent for this game," Susan remarked, already concentrating on her next move.

"Perhaps," Seven allowed. "However it is unlikely that such knowledge would have been deemed relevant enough for a drone to access it."

Susan was interested now, the inquisitive scientist in her coming out as she spotted an opportunity to learn more about The Borg.

"So each drone doesn't posses the full knowledge of The Hive?"

"No. All information The Collective assimilates is evaluated and then each individual drone is given the data it needs to perform its allotted tasks."

For long moments the only sounds that filled the room were those of chess pieces being placed on the board and the rhythmic breathing of the two concentrating individuals.

"So you don't know about Hugh, then?" Susan asked in a quiet, questioning voice.

"Hugh?" Seven replied, clearly at a loss.

Susan took her next move while she explained the story to Seven.

About 8 years previously, the Federation Starship Enterprise had discovered the remains of a Borg Scout ship, crashed on a desolate planet. There had only been one survivor - a drone designated Third of Five. Captain Picard had ordered that his link to the Collective be smothered using a dampening field. This was Third of Five's first taste of individuality.

Meanwhile, Captain Picard ordered his engineers to create some kind of destructive computer programme which could be inserted into the Borg's central processors and thereby transmitted into the entire collective upon Third of Five's ultimate reintegration into The Hive.

They succeeded.

Susan looked up at that point to discover that Seven was quite visibly upset by the last part of the story. Her skin, milky white to begin with, had drained completely of all colour, leaving it a with a ghostly pallor. Her left hand, still in mid-air and holding a chess piece, shook slightly.

"Seven?" Susan said, concerned, rising from her chair swiftly and kneeling beside the ex-drone. Seven eventually found the presence of mind to put the chess piece down.

"You are correct, Ensign," said Seven in a somewhat quivering voice. "I was not aware of these events. I find the knowledge that humans had the ability to destroy my race somewhat...unsettling."

Unsettling! A voice in Susan's head screeched. I'm surprised she didn't run screaming from the room. Good God, when did you become so bloody insensitive?

Mournfully, Susan could only kick herself as she watched the confused and frightened look on Seven's face. Having the intense desire suddenly to 'heal' that look, Susan reached up and touched Seven's face.

The gesture was meant to be comforting. It was meant to be innocent. It was meant to communicate that she was sorry for unintentionally hurting her.

Instead it shot a rocket blast straight directly to her brain.

Susan sucked in her breath sharply as she felt a rush of warmth invade her body. Her fingertips tingled where they came into contact with Seven's smooth, perfect skin. Suddenly her arms felt empty and she ached to give in to the desire to enfold Seven in her embrace and never let her go.

"Check mate." Seven said softly, so softly that Susan was not sure she had heard it.

"What?" she whispered, then turned her head to look at the board which Seven had been gesturing to. "Oh," she said, dropping her hand, mourning the loss of the warm contact. "Looks like you got me."

With the game over, and neither woman wanting a rematch, Susan could concentrate fully on telling the rest of the story in a way that would not alarm the blonde.

"By this time, though, Third of Five had begun to develop an individual personality," Susan said, continuing the story. "He had even taken a name - Hugh. The Captain was still going to go ahead with the plan but a friend of his managed to convince him to talk to Hugh. He renounced the Borg, proclaimed himself an individual and Captain Picard did not think it was right to use him to destroy his race. Instead, Hugh chose to return to the Borg and, instead of sharing a destructive computer programme with the Hive, he transmitted his own sense of individuality to the Collective."

Seven was silent now, clearly attempting to assimilate this information. When she finally did speak, it was to ask something so simple that it could almost be taken for smalltalk.

"How did you know him?"

"I was a cadet, working on security detail at the time. I was stationed on The Enterprise and just happened to be on Brig duty at the time Hugh was there. We used to talk sometimes...when he was feeling lonely."

Susan well remembered her first conversations with the young Borg.

"You are not like the others," said Hugh, in his inquisitive, childlike voice.

"Well, that's the thing about individuality, Hugh - we're all unique," answered the young cadet, studiously keeping her eyes on her console.

"Yes, I understand," he retorted, walking closer to the force-field. "But even among individuals there are similarities. You...you are different. You are...like me. Alone."

Susan looked at the young Borg incredulously before dropping her gaze, the colour draining from her cheeks. It seemed that Hugh, with his blunt observation and ruthless analytical precision, had got to the heart of the matter that innumerable counsellors had tried to help her with for four long years.

"Yes," she said, scrunching her eyes tightly closed against the sudden hot tears she could feel welling behind her eyes. "I am."

A week passed, uneventful for Voyager but decidedly full for Seven and Susan. The two saw each other every day - usually at Seven's initiation but Susan went along with everything quite happily. They would meet to play Velocity or chess, Susan being beaten soundly whatever they decided and not really caring. McGuire talked of Hugh some more and Seven listened, a rapt audience. Once, Seven stayed in Susan's quarters for dinner and was surprised to be offered food - real food, not the sweet concoction of vitamins and nutrients Susan had indicated she normally consumed. It was only then that Susan had noticed she had begun to eat again.

Susan tossed and turned in her bed that night, rest a highly elusive quarry. She couldn't help thinking about Seven and what had been happening between them this past week. Well, she couldn't really say anything had been happening between them - she was sure it had been quite, quite one-sided.

God, what's happening to me? she thought almost desperately. For years she had avoided this kind of thing, shying away from contact with those who sought to melt the icy defences she had put up. She didn't want to let anyone in, she couldn't let anyone in. But Seven had managed it somehow, without even trying, or even seeming to realise what she was doing. It was incredible. They'd only known each other a week and already the young Borg was under her skin. Could such things really happen so quickly?

Susan sighed. It was all academic anyway. Even if she did allow herself to feel more for Seven than she did at the moment, she was sure the Borg could not return those feelings. Besides...she wasn't even sure she knew how to love anymore.

No, an icy voice demanded. It's not love. At most it's an infatuation. You can control it the way you control everything else.

The ice in that voice was drowned out, however, by the warmth that flooded her when she thought about Seven. And she seemed to be thinking about her quite a lot - wondering what she might be doing at that moment; imagining tracing her soft cheek with her fingertips; thinking about what it would be like to cup that beautiful face ever-so-tenderly; to pull it down and taste the sweetness of those full lips.

It was with such thoughts filling her mind that Ensign Susan McGuire drifted into sleep that night, a smile curving her lips heavenward.

Seven of Nine sat rigidly in a chair in the MessHall looking out towards the stars, her thoughts racing around inside her head like excited puppies chasing after a ball.

Ensign McGuire hadn't touched her again since that evening a week ago but she still found herself preoccupied by it. She couldn't describe how it had felt. There was nothing in her vast amount of assimilated knowledge to explain such a moment. She found it unsurprising that her Borg knowledge would fail her now, when confronted with a decidedly human situation.

The doors to the MessHall slid open with a muted hiss but Seven did not turn around. She did not need to - her Borg enhanced hearing had detected and analysed the soft footfalls and she had already identified the arrival as Captain Janeway.

"Good evening, Seven," said the gentle, throaty voice, confirming Seven's initial supposition. "Having trouble regenerating?"

The Captain took a seat without being asked, her face turned away from the stars and gazing into Seven's. The Borg was silent, recognising that the Captain's question was perhaps one that did not need an answer. For long moments they remained like that - two women sitting alone in the near-darkness - until Seven drew in a somewhat shaky breath, betraying her atypical lack of emotional control.

"What's wrong, Seven?" asked Janeway, who had read Seven's mood the moment she'd walked into the room. The ex-drone was not known for seeking out solitude, and it was highly unusual to find her here of all places during Gamma shift when the ship was at its quietest.

"I...do not know," she answered truthfully. "I lack the emotional experience to properly judge this situation."

"What situation?"

After taking another deep breath Seven began to explain. She talked about how she felt when in McGuire's presence, about the physical reactions she experienced when they were together, above all about the overwhelming sensations that had flooded through her system when the ensign had touched her that evening a week ago.

"Suddenly my lungs felt as if they had contracted and I was unable to breathe. I became acutely aware of the areas her skin came into contact with mine but my awareness of the rest of the room seemed to be smothered. I was...unsettled by this. I had to force my mind to return to the task at hand."

"What did you do?" asked Janeway, wide-eyed.

"I said 'Check Mate'."

Janeway stared at her a moment more then, without warning, tilted her head back and was lost in peals of laughter.

"I fail to see the humour in this situation, Captain," Seven protested indignantly when Janeway began to calm.

"Oh...I'm sorry, Seven...it's just that you really know how to break a mood!"

"A 'mood', Captain?"

"Never mind," the Captain said quickly. "So, what do you want to do about this Seven?"

The blonde looked down at her hands.

"I believe that my lack of emotional experience increases the likelihood that I will 'make a mistake' with regards to this matter. I believe that it would be best if I simply severed contact with Ensign McGuire."

Janeway was suddenly deadly serious, leaning forward and grabbing Seven's hands as she stared deeply into the younger woman's suddenly wide blue eyes.

"You'll do no such thing," Janeway ordered, the command voice and face in full gear. "I will not allow you to deny yourself the chance to love just because you're afraid!"

"I am not afraid!" Seven objected vehemently, raising her voice as she spat the distasteful word from her mouth.

"So prove it!" Janeway yelled back, then got control of her voice. She dropped Seven's hands, then dropped the command mask a moment later, letting Seven see the woman beneath. Instead of holding her hands, Janeway cupped her face as she said her next words in a quivering voice.

"If you don't take this opportunity," she said, "I promise you that you'll regret it. Every day for the rest of your life."

Seven stared into Janeway's eyes uncomprehendingly, wondering what could have made Janeway speak with such vehemence and passion. Her analytical mind ran through a list of possibilities, eventually disregarding all but one.

Personal experience.

"I will comply," Seven breathed, so softly that Janeway could barely hear her.

For long moments they remained that way until, surprisingly, Seven broke the tension by remarking that if any crewmembers were to enter at that moment their current position would raise some questions about the nature of their relationship.

Janeway laughed: a surprised, relieved and proud laugh mixed into one.

"Go see her," Janeway entreated after the two had fallen into silence once more.

"Now?" Seven asked, surprised.

"You know what they say Seven," said Janeway, lips curling in a grin.

"There's no time like the present."

Susie McGuire stood shaking on the edge of the precipice, a chill wind howling around her and freezing her to the bones. Behind her lay the way she had already come - a desperately cold and barren tundra. Before her lay something quite unknown - a sheer drop with no way of knowing what lay at the bottom.

"What's stopping you?" a voice inside her head asked. "After all," it said as Susie glanced back towards the emptiness behind her, "it's not as if you have much to lose."

"I know but..."Susie faltered. The truth was, that no matter how desperate and inhospitable the climate was behind her...it was still a long way to fall and-

"I'm afraid," she admitted.

Susan McGuire awoke with a jerk sometime towards the middle of Gamma shift, a layer of sweat covering her body like frost. The door chime rang again, bringing Susan neatly back to reality and she called for the person at her door to enter, rising blearily to greet her visitor..

"Seven!" Susan exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. "Is everything all right?"

Seven did not answer, she merely advanced until she was standing in front of the ensign and there was barely a hair's breadth between them. She seemed to falter for a moment before regaining her determination. She didn't speak. Instead she lifted her fully human right hand and touched Susan's cheek, mirroring the action that had been performed on her a week before.

Susan stood statue still for an undefined amount of time.

Her heart raced until she was sure it was ready to beat its way out of her chest. But that was not what she was focusing on.

Shining in Seven's blue eyes were qualities that both captivated and terrified her. Qualities she hadn't noticed earlier, so caught up was she in her own reactions. Vulnerability...desire...a warmth and softness she had never expected to see...

Susie leaned over the precipice as she cupped Seven's face, pulling her lovely face down to kiss those soft, full lips.

For a silent eternity Susie allowed herself to be lost in that kiss. It was the most intense - and terrifying - thing she had ever experienced. The whole universe seemed to contract until there was only room enough for her and Seven and the air that streamed, with effort, through their noses...Seven's deliciously unfamiliar taste and feel invaded her consciousness, caressing her from her skin to her centre and touching every point in between. The ensign's heart clutched almost painfully as Seven's soft lips moved hesitantly against hers...letting the warmth and softness of the kiss melt the icy walls she had erected around her soul.

Suddenly, panic rose within her like a wild beast, feral and untamed and Susan pulled back, gasping...taking a step away from Seven and the precipice.

"I can't do this..." she breathed, her soul wincing as if struck when Seven's angelic face displayed the confusion and hurt the words had caused.

"I'm sorry..." said Susan, taking another step back from the edge. "Could you please go?"

The blonde seemed ready to argue but eventually she merely dipped her head docilely and left.

Only then did Susan allow herself any emotional display. She sank to her knees on the floor, covering her face with shaking hands as her body was consumed by racking sobs.

If it was possible, Seven felt more alone now than ever before in her life.

After she had been dismissed from Susan's presence she wandered the corridors of Voyager trying to make sense of what had just happened. She was completely inexperienced in the realm of human emotion and the intensity of this...'feeling' unsettled her carefully constructed Borg veneer.

When Susan had broken their kiss somewhat unceremoniously, Seven had been confused. Too confused even to argue as she was asked to leave the room. She wondered for a moment what Captain Janeway would say if she told her she'd been too afraid to fight for what she wanted.

Seven stopped, wondering where that thought had come from. Even as she tried, she could not deny the truth of it. It had been fear as well as confusion which had made her leave Susan's quarters. Fear of being rejected again...fear of not being rejected again...fear of allowing her emotions to get the better of her and overcome her own desperately needed control.

I am not afraid, a fierce voice objected inside her head. Fear is an emotion. Emotion is human. Humans are weak. Weakness compromises efficiency. Efficiency is order. Order is perfection. I seek perfection. I am Borg.

Try as she might, though, she could not believe the voice in her head because it simply wasn't true. She wasn't Borg. Not anymore.

Walking into Main Engineering Seven sought out and found B'Elanna Torres, Voyager's fiery half-Klingon engineer. Seven briefly wondered what the young engineer was doing here so early. Seven knew that Torres was assigned to Alpha shift this month and this was at least an hour before that shift was due to start.

"Lieutenant Torres," the blonde greeted succinctly, causing B'Elanna to look up from what she was doing.

"Seven!" B'Elanna said sharply. "What is it?"

Seven was not wounded by the tone, although she suspected that had been the engineer's intention. When she had first come to Voyager she had often experienced strange and disconcerting emotions concerning this woman. She recognised them now as being confusion and hurt but at the time she had been at a loss as to what to do. She could not understand why B'Elanna hated her so much and Seven was unaccustomed to not understanding anything. Eventually, Seven had learned to shield herself from B'Elanna's antagonising demeanour and now she did not have any emotional resonance at all concerning the Klingon/Human hybrid. Although that seemed only to incense Torres even further.

"I have some time before my duty shift starts," the blonde began. "I came to see if there was anything requiring attention in Engineering."

Torres seemed about to tell her there was nothing to be done when she stopped.

"I have just the thing," she remarked eventually. She handed her a PADD containing the specifics of a repair job the Engineering crew were currently working on. "Lucky Thirteen oughta while away a few hours."

Seven looked up from the PADD momentarily, raising her left eyebrow at the Klingon before she looked down again. According to the information, plasma conduit 13-kappa had been displaying anomalous flow readings for several weeks and there seemed to be no source to the problem.

In truth Seven did not know how she fixed the malfunction. The whole time she was under the console her fingers were busy, but her mind was on Susan and what she was going to do about the situation she suddenly found herself in.

After her duty shift, Seven of Nine went straight to the MessHall.

After having had much time to think about it, Seven had decided that she would not simply 'give up' on Susan McGuire. The young woman had stirred up feelings in her she did not know existed and, while she had been unsettled by them at first, Seven was now eager to experience them.

"Captain Janeway," Seven greeted as she approached the table that the object of her search was sitting at. "May I join you?"

Janeway looked up, startled by Seven's sudden appearance. The captain looked tired, as if she had not had much sleep. Seven supposed she had not since the captain had been in the MessHall with her last night, during the time she should have been resting. Although there seemed to be something more to it than that.

"Of course Seven," Janeway replied, gesturing towards a seat at the other side of the table. Seven sat gingerly, still unsure of herself even after two years of following this human custom.

"So what happened last night?" Janeway asked, her eyebrow raised rakishly in what Seven had come to recognise as Janeway's 'gossip face.'

"She kissed me," Seven stated plainly, watched Janeway's eyebrows raise and her lips turn upwards in a grin before adding, "and then she asked me to leave her quarters."

"WHAT?!" Janeway almost yelled before schooling her voice to a more sedate tone. "Did she say why?"

"No, I do not believe so," Seven replied, her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "She merely made a slightly cryptic comment about being 'unable to do this' and asked me to leave."

"Oh," the captain responded, looking at Seven intently, trying to gauge her reaction to this rejection. Part of what made Janeway a good captain was her ability to read her crew's emotions and right now she sensed a great many from Seven. This pleased Janeway in a strange way because, in all the time she had known the young woman, Seven had never really allowed her feelings to come to the surface and breach her carefully constructed, impassive Borg veneer.

While Seven was obviously feeling confused and hurt, Janeway sensed something even stronger from her. It was the trademark grim determination that the ex-Borg trained on almost everything she decided to do and Janeway recognised that Seven was not going to blindly accept Susan's rejection.

"What do you plan to do about it?" Janeway asked.

Seven began to look decidedly uncomfortable and Janeway found herself grinning widely, amused by Seven's obviously ill-at-ease state.

"I do not know...I have no experience of...'romance'. I was hoping you could assist me, Captain."

Janeway swallowed her sip of coffee before she could spray it across the room, her throat aching slightly from the force of her reflex.

"You want me to help you woo her?!"

"If that is what you call it," Seven replied with her customary calm back in place.

Janeway looked around then, suddenly remembering that she was the Captain and they were in a very public place. This was not the kind of conversation she would relish being caught in the middle of.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private."

Oh God, Janeway thought as she and Seven rode the turbolift to her quarters in silence. When she had introduced McGuire and Seven she had never thought they would fall in love. But it seemed as if that was exactly what was happening, though from what Seven had told her, Susan was resisting it very strongly.

I guess someone forgot to tell her that resistance is futile, Janeway thought with a grin as the two women entered the captain's quarters.

"Would you like anything?" Janeway asked aloud, gesturing towards the replicator.

"I do not require nutrients at this time," they both said together, Janeway grinning at their synchronised, predictable response.

"No, I would not like anything, thank-you Captain," Seven changed her reply to, feeling slightly amused herself. Though she'd be damned to the deepest level of hell before she showed it.

"So, tell me Seven," Janeway began, kicking off her boots and curling up into a chair facing away from the streaking starfield, "what exactly do you need me to help you with?"

"If I knew what needed to be done, Captain, I would not need to ask you," Seven replied shortly with a hint of annoyance colouring her cool tone.

Janeway sat for a moment, clearly waiting for an apology but when none was forthcoming she merely sighed.

"I can't say as I've ever had to do much 'wooing' in the past, Seven. That's generally considered the realm of the man."

"I see," said Seven in surprise. "Is that not a rather sexist position, Captain?"

"Perhaps," Janeway allowed, "but that's just how it is, Seven."

Seven seemed to consider that for a moment before disregarding the tangent the conversation had gone down as irrelevant.

"If you have never 'wooed', Captain then perhaps you can tell me what is most effective when one is on the receiving end."

Janeway was silent for a moment, a faint smile dusting her lips. She was clearly lost in thought, or rather, lost in memory as her mind drifted back to when she and her ex-fiancé Mark had begun their relationship.

"When Mark and I were...'courting'," Janeway began, wincing a little at the old-fashioned word which she had always hated. "He used to send me a love poem every day. And all the other clichés: flowers, chocolates and so on."

"I see," said Seven, her brow furrowing in concentration. "I do not believe non-nutritional supplements would make an impression on Ensign McGuire since her eating habits are a great deal more efficient than that would suggest. Likewise with 'flowers' since her quarters are deliberately lacking in decoration. As for poetry...I do not believe she is the 'poetry type.'"

"Oh, that doesn't matter, Seven. The whole point is that she knows you're thinking about her. I think she'd be a lot more likely to be affected by that than by your actual method."

"I see, Captain. I will consider your advice."

In the middle of Susan McGuire's second sleepless night in a row her computer chirped, indicating an incoming message. She wondered briefly who would be writing to her at this hour.

Instead of continuing to wonder, however, she rose from her bed, leaving the sheets and blankets tousled and tangled.

"Computer," she called as she sat at the terminal, brushing a tendril of thick black hair behind her ear. "Display message."

She almost choked on her own breath of air as she realised what it was, then almost choked on her next when she saw who it was from.

A love poem. From Seven, no less. It would have been a cringe-inducing cliché from anyone else but coming from Seven it was a strangely touching act. Susan's heart clutched gently as she read the flowing lines of neat italics that scrolled across her screen, spelling out the work Seven had chosen to send her - My Luve's like a red red rose by Robert Burns. Was it deliberate that it was a Scottish poet that Seven had chosen, she wondered?

Susan shook herself mentally, unaccountably angry that she had allowed this incessantly romantic gesture to get to her. Two can play at this game, she thought as she searched through the computer's data banks, finally finding what she was looking for and forwarding it to Seven's personal data-bank.

Let's see what you have to say about that.

It took Seven until after her duty shift the next day before she had a chance to find Janeway and tell her what Susan's response had been to her first attempt at 'wooing.'

"I sent her a poem, as you suggested, Captain."

"Yes, and what did she do?"

"She sent me one back."

"She WHAT?!"

Seven did not feel she needed to repeat what she had just said, so she remained silent, waiting for Janeway to speak. The captain did, a moment later when she asked her Astrometrics officer to tell her which poem she had been sent.

"Reasons for Attendance by Phillip Larkin."

"Ouch," Janeway winced before quoting softly - "Surely, to think the lion's share of happiness is found by couples - sheer inaccuracy, as far as I'm concerned."

"Indeed."

"Well...given that response, I suggest you start sending two poems a day."

Seven favoured Janeway with a quick double take, which the captain felt was absolutely adorable. Janeway quickly crushed that thought; not only was Seven falling hard for Ensign McGuire, she herself only really had eyes for-

"I do not understand, Captain," Seven said, cutting off Janeway's thought before it could reach its conclusion.

"Well, Seven, if she really wasn't interested she'd just have ignored the message. The fact that she sent you a response shows she's thinking of you, too."

For about two weeks this continued. Seven sent the ensign two love poems a day, and each time Susan sent back an appropriately cynical response. She hated to admit that this was getting to her in any way. The truth was she felt insanely flattered by the attention Seven was flourishing on her. The ex-Borg had even taken to sending her a single red rose every day, via Neelix, who performed this duty with, Susan thought, unnecessary cheer.

Worse, though, was the fact that she couldn't seem to get Seven out of her head. It was even worse now that she had kissed her. The deliciously unfamiliar feel and taste of Seven haunted her during every waking moment.

Before her duty shift one morning, Susan stepped gingerly into Sickbay, looking around to see if anyone had noticed her. It was a pointless, nervous gesture since she had already checked with the computer to see if anyone was in the vicinity but she didn't particularly want anyone to see this. Especially one person.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," The Doctor's rote greeting floated to her ears as she called for the programme to be activated.

"Ensign!" the holographic crewmember exclaimed, surprised that he would see the young woman in Sickbay of her own free will - usually she had to be dragged kicking and screaming for her annual physical.

"Doctor, I'd like to keep this brief," the Ensign replied, coolly, already stepping towards his office.

"Certainly, Ensign, your wish is my command," he muttered with his customary sarcasm as he sat in his chair. "What can I do for you?"

"I...I've been having some trouble sleeping. I need you to prescribe something or I'm going to go insane."

The Doctor frowned, concerned. Standing, he scanned around the Ensign's head with his tricorder. Susan flinched away from the instrument as if from some flying insect.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm attempting to ascertain what's wrong with you, Ensign."

"There's nothing wrong with me! I'm just having some trouble sleeping that's all!"

This was not strictly true. The engineer did fall asleep, every night but she was woken consistently about ninety minutes into the night by a dream. It was the same one she had had the night she kissed Seven - Susie standing on the edge of a cliff, looking over, trying to decide whether or not to step off into the unknown. She never got back to sleep after that.

"Well I'm sorry, Ensign but I am unable to prescribe you a sleep inducer unless this is a physical problem. Perhaps if you would care to tell me what is causing this insomnia-"

"Never mind," Susan interrupted with a wave of her hand, rising to leave.

"Ensign!" The Doctor tried to stop her but she was out of the door before he could get another word in.

Concerned, the hologram stood in the middle of Sickbay, his brow furrowed, trying to decide what to do.

"Doctor to Janeway," he said eventually, tapping his commbadge.

Janeway and Seven had taken to meeting nightly for what the captain had jokingly termed 'The Wooing Progress Report'. That evening both had some rather disturbing news.

"I talked to the Doctor today," Janeway said, leading Seven into her quarters. "He said that McGuire came to see him to look for a sleep-inducer. It seems Susan's got something...or someone...on her mind that's stopping her from sleeping."

Seven, however, was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely heard her. That more than anything else made Janeway realise with a jolt just how much this situation was hurting the blonde. A lot of people felt that her concern over Seven was maternal in nature and, while Janeway found such an idea distasteful and inaccurate, the two had developed a special kind of bond over the last two years. A bond which demanded that Janeway help to somehow 'heal' the look of confusion and pain she saw in Seven's soft blue eyes. God, she must really love her, Janeway thought, wide-eyed. How did that happen? When did she turn from the cool and unemotional drone to this beautiful young woman with a heart beating strongly inside her chest?

"Seven, are you all right?"

"No," Seven said quietly after a moment of pensive reflection. "I do not believe so. I am becoming...less optimistic about our chances of success in this endeavour."

Janeway led Seven to a chair, sitting her down with a concerned frown.

"Any particular reason?"

"Yes. The poem Ensign McGuire sent me today - Myself after her death by Norman MacCaig."

Janeway frowned, not recognising the title or, indeed, the poet. She asked Seven to recite it, which Seven did, her clear, cool tones sounding quiet in the still air of the captain's quarters.

"I'm exiled from what used to be
my country. It welcomed me
with gifts of peace and storms,
with heights of mountains
and altitudes of joy.

Not now.

No, says the wall, and I turn back.
No, says the mountain
and I sit sad in the valley
listening to the river that says
Trespasser, trespasser, trespasser.

I stubbornly say, All the same
it's still beautiful.
And I know that's true
but I know also
why it fails to recognise me."

"There is more," Seven said softly, after giving Janeway a few moments to assimilate the new information, "but I do not think I need to recite the rest. I admit I am far from an expert on poetry, Captain, but I think that this is a departure from her recent responses."

"You're damn right it is," Janeway said huskily. The Captain seemed pensive for a few moments before coming over to sit as close as possible to Seven, on the arm of her chair. "Seven," she began. "I think there are a few things you should know about Ensign McGuire."

The young engineer sat alone in her bare quarters, sipping occasionally from a cooling mug of bittersweet vitamins and nutrients. She thought about the poems Seven had sent her that day, relentlessly romantic twaddle that Susan would be embarrassed to be caught reading but which touched her heart nonetheless. To the first - She walks in Beauty by Byron - Susan had replied with an appropriately cynical and witty work by Dorothy Parker. The second of Seven's offerings that day was unperturbed by Ms Parker's clever phrases and stinging similes, however, and for a moment Susan was taken aback by how steadfastly Seven was pursuing this. She herself was beginning to run out of scathing retorts and, Susan knew, there had been more poems written about love than about its futility. More disturbingly, the ensign was beginning to run out of the will to return those scathing retorts and was starting to feel the siren's call of her heart pushing her in another direction altogether.

Susan sighed. She hadn't slept much last night either and she was tired. More to the point, she was weary and she wanted nothing more than for this whole situation to be resolved and for everything to be simple again. That was just it...nothing in her life since she had met Seven was simple. The young woman brought emotions bubbling through the carefully constructed barrier she had created after-

The door chime rang, neatly pulling Susan away from that train of thought and Susan answered with a quiet 'come in', standing up respectfully as Captain Janeway entered her quarters, placing her mug containing her daily nutritional drink onto a low table.

"Captain," she greeted quietly.

"Ensign," Janeway replied gently, the softness in her tone and expression surprising to Susan. The Captain travelled further into the room, sitting down without being asked. Suddenly Susan noticed the PADD Janeway was carrying, unsurprising since the captain was now offering it to her.

"Seven was going to send this tomorrow," Janeway was saying. "But I convinced her to let me pass it on now."

"More poetry, Captain? Why am I not surprised you had something to do with this?" Susan spoke with quiet sarcasm, lifting the PADD to her eyes as she read the scrolling italics.

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend
Nor services to do, till you require:

Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu:

Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But like a happy slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are, how happy you make
those;-

So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.

Susan stood in silence for whole minutes, the cool and icy facet of her personality disgusted at unshed tears which were making her eyes seem glittery like the sea.

"I never wanted to hurt her, Captain," she whispered almost inaudibly, refusing to meet Janeway's eyes. "I...I just can't do this..."

"Why not?" asked the captain with what appeared to be genuine concern. "What are you so afraid of?"

An image flashed through Susan's mind, so real that it made her shiver. The cliff was tall, its bottom invisible in the darkness and the glacial wind which surrounded her shuddering form threatened to upset her balance.

"I'm afraid because I can't stop thinking about her and I haven't slept for the two weeks we've been apart. I'm afraid because she sends me poetry and roses and shows no sign of stopping, even though I've actively tried to put her off. I'm afraid because the poems she sends me speak for my own heart too. I'm afraid because she makes me feel...just feel...for the first time in God knows how long. I'm afraid because...I'm falling in love with her and I can't stop it." And I'm afraid because it's such a long way to fall...

"Coward," Janeway said eventually, looking away with a sad expression on her face as she stood to leave.

Susan was taken aback - she had just opened her soul to this woman and that was all she had to say? Surprise was quickly replaced by anger and, with her temper shortened by lack of sleep, the ensign grabbed her CO's arm, spinning Janeway back around to meet her gaze, green eyes flashing fury.

"You utter hypocrite! Who do you think you are?!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Oh yes, miss holier than thou! It's very easy for you to act indignant, isn't it? You think I don't notice how you look at B'Elanna when you think no-one can see? And you have the audacity to call me a coward Captain."

Janeway stared at the young ensign incredulously, her mouth open and gaping, making her look surprisingly like a Terran blowfish. Susan breathed hard through her nose as she held the captain's gaze unflinchingly.

"All right, so you know how I feel about B'Elanna. Then you also know that I can comprehend just how much you'll regret this if you don't go through with it."

Susan covered her eyes at that, groaning a little as she fell back onto the sofa. Somehow she wasn't angry anymore; just weary and confused and eager for everything to be simple again. Janeway sat beside her, placing a hand gently on her arm.

"She really loves you, you know."

Susan shook her head, hands still covering her face.

"How can she? She knows absolutely nothing about me."

"You mean that you're from the twentieth century? She knows that."

Well, a voice in Susan's head remarked, with a calm Susan envied. Didn't see that one coming did you? If this was a TV show we'd have a commercial break right about now. Join us after the break for another exciting chapter in Susie McGuire's screwed up life!

Susan schooled the voice in her head to silence, concerned over the perverse, joyless amusement the whole situation had suddenly aroused in her. Oddly enough, the part of her that was trying to force the laughter up through her emotional barriers seemed to reside in that dark place in the pit of her stomach, where she pushed all those things which did not fit in with her impassive veneer. She idly wondered what she had created by pushing all her feelings down there...a rogue facet of her personality, all raw emotion and untempered by intellect?

Dimly, Susan realised that Janeway had been speaking and she pulled herself back to reality.

"-really think you should have been the one to tell her, Ensign," the captain was saying, unperturbed by the look McGuire was giving her - one that would have made lesser people than Janeway shake in their boots.

"I agree, Captain," she said but the frostiness of her tone was forced. "How did you find out? My personnel record?"

"Yes," Janeway conceded. "I'm surprised I never discovered it before but I'm not really in the habit of reading the files of the-"

Janeway stopped, suddenly conscious of the fact she'd been about to say 'lower-ranks.' While this is what the members of the crew who carried a rank of less than Lieutenant Commander were known as collectively, she suddenly felt that the name might carry the impression that such people were not good or important enough for Janeway to take an interest in. Janeway did not want to create that impression, indeed when they had first been stranded in the Delta Quadrant the Captain had decided that she would make more of a concerted effort to get to know her crew. Although the captain was beginning to wonder of late how far she had come with that particular goal.

Susan McGuire was a prime example. Here was a woman who had been born in 1985 - almost 400 years before Janeway herself - and the captain had only got to know about it through prowling around in her personnel record during a bout of boredom on departmental reports day.

And then there was B'Elanna.

During their first year in the Delta Quadrant, Janeway and B'Elanna had begun to develop the kind of relationship that was common among Captain and Chief Engineer. They were friends and confidantes and a wonderfully gelled team.

Kathryn couldn't pinpoint a single moment when her feelings for the fiery half-Klingon had changed. However, when she realised that she was swiftly and surely falling in love with the Maquis rebel, Janeway had been quite horrified. First she experienced a racking guilt, feeling like she was being unfaithful to Mark by even entertaining the notion of her and B'Elanna becoming more than friends. She toned down their interaction, cooling it to pure professionalism and, while Kathryn saw that B'Elanna was confused and a little hurt by this development, the younger woman acquiesced and they drifted further apart.

Now, of course, it was too late. B'Elanna was with Tom. Janeway had missed her chance and, she was certain, another one would not come. Still, what she had said to Susan was true - she did regret it. She regretted it every morning she woke up alone in her big, cold, empty bed, dreams of B'Elanna still feeling heart-wrenchingly solid in her vacant arms.

The one good thing that could come from that unhappy mess was that Janeway could somehow use her mistakes to help Susan and Seven. She could see they were both confused and inexperienced and if there was one thing Janeway was certain of, it was that she didn't want either of these two young women to wake up as lonely as she did each morning.

"How much do you know?" Susan was asking in a quiet voice.

"Nothing but the facts," she replied gently. "You were born on the tenth of July 1985. You died after being hit by a car on the twentieth of March 1999. You were put into cryogenic suspension and then blasted into space with four others. You drifted for almost four hundred years before you were found and revived by the starship Athena. You entered Starfleet Academy as soon as you could and graduated fifth in your class. Voyager was your first assignment."

Susan's face held no expression but her green eyes were unseeing as they stared at a spot on the far wall.

"I was hit by the car after I pushed my best friend's little brother out of the way. I spent three weeks in a coma before I died of a ruptured blood vessel in the brain. I don't know how I was put into cryogenic suspension. A woman called Agnes Mursuic paid for it. I'd never heard of her but I got to know her name well," Susan's tone was suddenly harsh and bitter and Janeway looked surprised.

"Why?"

Susan turned her head and met Janeway's eyes, her expression serious.

"Because I've cursed that name every day of my life since then."

The cool and aloof ex-drone Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, stood in front of Captain Janeway's full length mirror, trying to decide if she should change her clothes again.

She had existed in a state of fluttering anticipation since the captain had returned from Ensign McGuire's quarters. Janeway had been quiet and pensive, saying only that Susan had asked to see her and that she should get changed.

The captain had replicated her several outfits which Seven had brought in here to choose from. She tried on every single one, too nervous to be satisfied by any of them. She was wearing the one she found most pleasing - a low cut sun-dress made that came down to just above her knees, the fabric light and flowing and the colour of the sky on a cold winter's morning.

"Perfect," said Janeway with a grin as she entered the room. "That colour brings out your eyes."

"I find this procedure inefficient. What is the purpose of this? I was already dressed before Ensign McGuire invited me to her quarters." Seven's annoyed tone was born mostly of nervousness so Janeway did not answer, she merely favoured Seven with an exasperated expression. The older woman fussed around the ex-drone for a few more moments, letting her long blonde hair down from its customary encasement and allowing it to spill in waves down past the strong shoulders.

From what Seven had managed to glean from Janeway on her return, it seemed clear that Ensign McGuire wished to discuss the current situation with her. Janeway had not been willing to share her conversation with the ensign, saying only that Susan should 'tell you herself.' The slight insecurity over what the topic of conversation would be unsettled her, reminding her of just how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be.

Although, she had made herself quite vulnerable in the last few weeks too, Seven allowed, thinking about the daily poems and roses she had lavished on the ensign. Seven had not believed that flowers would have much affect on McGuire but Janeway had persuaded her to start sending the roses. Somehow Janeway had become a kind of matchmaker between Seven and Susan and the ex-drone wondered how the captain viewed her new role.

In the beginning it had been largely Janeway who chose which poems Susan would be sent, Seven only having a small role in the decision-making-process. After only the third day, however, Seven began to read the verses more carefully, sometimes reciting them aloud to herself. She wanted to choose the works which most keenly emulated the cry of her heart and to do this she had to see which ones felt right coming from her lips.

A month ago, Seven would have dismissed as insane anyone who had suggested she would feel this way now. In truth she did not know how it had happened. With Janeway's help, Seven had recognised that the physical attraction had manifested itself almost immediately she had met the young ensign. Seven also discovered that she had felt that way before, towards B'Elanna Torres no less, but at the time it had come it was little more than a hormonal reaction to be being made human again and Seven had been too young and inexperienced to recognise it for what it was. Seven did not, however, find it prudent to share this new knowledge with the captain. Perhaps her growing feelings for Susan had made her more sensitive to the emotions of others but, whatever the reason, Seven realised that such information would not be greeted well by Janeway.

Her musings led Seven to wonder why her attraction to Susan had developed into so much more while the attraction to B'Elanna had not. No doubt it was due partly to the fact that B'Elanna had been unwilling to spend more than two seconds in the same room as her but Seven could not...'see herself'...falling in love with B'Elanna even if that had not been the case. This was not logical. Seven could only conclude that love was not logical, which pleased her in an odd sort of way.

From the lingering glances she received on her way to McGuire's quarters Seven concluded that she either looked very bad or very good which did not help to ease her nervousness at all. She was suddenly very conscious of her bare left arm, of the stark metal implant which still, and always would, adorn her flesh. While her various implants allowed Seven a physical strength and durability that other humans lacked, they also marked her out as different from the others. Due to having spent most of her life in the hive, Seven did not relish feeling different.

Such thoughts made her even more nervous than she already had been, so much so that her right hand was shaking slightly when she rang the doorchime.

The chirp of the doorchime pulled Susan from an uneasy doze and she sat up, ramrod straight, when she heard it, images of cliffs and falls and barren wastelands still chasing around in her mind.

As soon as Susan had decided to tell Seven about her past, about her life up to this point, the tiredness had come, pulling her senses down into an uneasy oblivion. Susan supposed that the sense of impending closure surrounding the whole situation had been what allowed her body to sleep for the first time in weeks. The fact that she still wasn't sure what she wanted the outcome to be was what, undoubtedly, had brought the dream.

"Come in," she called, knowing full well who it would be.

The door slid open and Seven entered, looking like a goddess. Susan's quarters were dark so the light that came in from the door provided an ethereal halo of heavenly light around Seven's body, making her blonde hair shine like spun gold in the sun. Suddenly Susan knew she had lungs because they were empty and collapsing. 'Breathtaking' did not even begin to describe what Seven was, despite the fact that Susan's breath had indeed been taken away. Seven had changed from her usual catsuit into a soft, flowing dress the colour of the sky and her eyes and Susan wondered silently how she had ever managed to resist this seraph in blue and gold.

"Hello, Seven," Susan managed hoarsely when he had got her voice back enough to speak. She noted that Seven seemed nervous, even more so than Susan which could be considered a miracle in and of itself. Although, Susan allowed, Seven had been experiencing a lot of unfamiliar emotions these past weeks as the soft, flowing verses in her personal database that spoke of unrequited love and endless affection testified.

"Ensign," Seven replied and was gratified to discover that her anxiety did not show in her voice although it most certainly did in her eyes.

"Call me-" The ensign stopped in mid sentence, suddenly looking away, her expression introverted and pensive. Well, a voice in her head asked suddenly, what's it gonna be? You'd better make up your mind quickly, she's waiting.

"Call me Susie," she decided finally, looking up into Seven's blue eyes, their expression testifying that she did not understand the meaning of the gesture. Perhaps she would after Susie her finished her story, she mused. Susie hoped so - she wanted this wonderful young woman to know exactly what she had done for her.

Susie realised then, with a sudden jolt, that she had already begun to fall. All that remained to be seen was whether or not Seven would be able to catch her when she reached the bottom.

"You seemed to adapt very well to this time period."

"Yes, I suppose it must look that way," Susie allowed gently.

They were sitting together on the sofa in Susie's quarters, too close for casual acquaintances, too far apart for lovers. So far the tone of their conversation had been light, much as their initial interactions had been in that first week they had known each other. They had talked of Susie's childhood back in the twentieth century, about the myriad differences between the two time periods that Susie had lived in. Susie had discussed her family; her beloved father and sister, the somewhat harsh figure of her mother who, it seemed, Susie had not had such a good relationship with. Her trip down memory lane had been tinged with sorrow but, for the first time, Susie was able to remember her family and relive the joy of those times rather than the pain of their loss.

"To be truthful I didn't adapt very well at all," Susie was saying. She could tell Seven didn't understand, the blonde's forehead was wrinkled in confusion. Susie thought she looked simply adorable but she pushed that thought from her mind. If she was to have the courage to bare her soul she would need all her concentration.

Although Susie had already discussed some of this with the captain she had not really told her half of what had been going on with her after her resurrection. Some of the truths she kept concealed were too painful, too personal, to discuss with anyone but Seven.

"I grew up in a different age, with cars and televisions and CD players, stuff that would seem out of the stone age to you. When I was...brought back to life, everything was different. My entire world was gone in the blink of an eye."

"And yet you could still enter Starfleet Academy and graduate fifth in your class?"

"Yes..." Susie stopped for a moment, looking at a spot on the wall, her expression unreadable. "When the reality of my situation sank in, I immersed myself in this time period. I studied constantly...tracing how current technology stemmed from what I was familiar with. I studied Federation history and alien politics and any other subject you care to name. It was very difficult, but I got through and I even managed to enter the Academy at the same age as all the other cadets."

"But I think I did all that mostly as a distraction," Susie continued after a pause. "The only worse thing than losing something is being reminded that you've lost it," she noted, "so I did everything I could not to remind myself of home, of my family and my friends and all the other things I'd lost. There were times when I wished I'd never been found, wished I'd stayed dead and forgotten in space instead of being forced to live this life."

Seven was a little upset by this last statement but, she hoped, the fact that Susie had used the past tense meant that she no longer felt this way.

Seven was surprised when Susie moved a little closer to her, since it had been her choice to have the distance between them. She could now feel the warmth of the ensign's skin close to her own, her enhanced Borg senses seeming to detect her very heartbeat.

"When I...woke up...I stopped calling myself Susie. Susie was the child I had been, the one who had a home and a family and a purpose. I wanted to distance myself from all that."

Susie left the next words unsaid. She didn't know how to tell Seven the truth - that while her body had been revived, Susie's soul had remained frozen. That she had avoided the pain by not allowing herself to feel anything at all. That it had been Seven alone who had got through her stone-cold barriers, without even trying or seeming to realise what she was doing. That she was falling fast and she needed Seven there to catch her.

She could not put that into words so she remained silent, instead allowing it all to burn into her gaze which was locked on Seven's. And, miraculously, Seven seemed to understand, her eyes filling with the unshed tears that so surely glittered in Susie's.

"I...I do not know what to say," she said finally and Susie smiled.

"Don't say anything," she replied. "Just give me a hug."

"A 'hug'?" Seven returned uncertainly, her eyes shading dark with confusion.

Susie's smile was wide now, her teeth glinting white in the dim light. She demonstrated a hug to Seven, slipping her arms around the blonde's warm body easily. Seven allowed it, surprised and not knowing what to do with her arms which were still at her sides.

"Put your arms around me," Susie whispered, unconcerned that it was no longer merely an instruction but a heartfelt plea.

They held each other for long moments in the dim light, Susie feeling sudden tears wet her cheeks. It had been so long since she had held someone...so long since someone had held her, and the perfect way their bodies fit together brought everything crashing home. This felt so good, so unbelievably, intrinsically right and Susie recognised that Seven had indeed been ready to catch her, all along.

Susie McGuire woke slowly the next morning after a well spent night of holding Seven, talking and dreamless sleep.

They had discussed how their relationship would progress from this point, both agreeing that it would be worth the effort. Susie was tired of being alone, tired of holding back the people she loved, the people who loved her. Seven was the first to break down her emotional barriers and Susie did not want to spoil the opportunity for happiness she had now found with the young blonde.

That was one of the reasons they had decided to take things slowly. They were both inexperienced and didn't want to rush into anything too quickly. Susie was very happy with this situation. If last night was anything to go by, just spending time with Seven was a joy she could never grow tired of.

Susie smiled again, stretching luxuriously in her warm bed. She thought of the captain suddenly and her smile remained. Last night Seven had told her about Janeway's role in the last two-week's affair. Susie had laughed when Seven used the term 'match-maker' but had filed it away for future reference. Perhaps she could be a match-maker to Janeway, she mused, thinking of B'Elanna and how unhappy she had seemed lately, too.

They had talked also of how they were going to handle the public side of their relationship, sure that the news would spread through the tiny ship like a forest fire doused in gasoline. It would be a new experience for them both but Susie was sure they would adapt and get through any initial problems.

But Susie didn't want to think about problems now. Instead, she let her smile widen to a grin as she got up and began to get ready for her duty shift. When she had showered, dressed and breakfasted on real solid food, Ensign Susie McGuire left her quarters feeling happy for the first time in she couldn't remember how long and ready for anything.

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