Poetics 2
By Alibaba
J/7 a first time (slow seduction) story chock full of historical lesbian poetry!
This won't make much sense if you have not read part one!
Poems excerpted or referred to in P.2 :
Emily Dickinson - "I had been hungry, all the Years"
Elizabeth Bishop - "It is Marvelous to Wake up together."
Seven of Nine spent the rest of her duty shift in a pleasant haze. In the utter
solitude of her mind she repeated parts of the Emily Dickinson poem that Kathryn
had sent her. She smiled in anticipation of her response. Choosing significant
words to emphasize: hunger oh, yes she’d long felt a hunger in the captain’s
presence, plenty – ample, these she could use quite suggestively she was sure of
that. She briefly wondered if she should send an audio message. No, best to
stick with text for now in case the intonations of her voice revealed more than
she was ready to.
Seven had intended to consume only a liquid nutritional supplement in the mess
hall to maximize her time composing her response. When she arrived in the mess
hall she had to wait for a replicator and then accepted Harry and B’Elanna’s
invitation to join their table. As anxious as she was to complete her task she
also admitted that she did enjoy their company and should use the opportunity to
practice her social skills. They shared cordial conversation for several minutes.
Seven’s empty glass was a reminder of what lay ahead of her this evening.
“You seem a little distracted Seven.” Harry stated.
“We aren’t boring you are we?” B’Elanna said with a friendly smirk.
“No, I am not bored, but I do apologize for being distracted. My thoughts are
filled with other matters.”
“Working on some new project?” Harry’s dark eyes sparkled as he smiled.
“Some new way to boost our warp drive,” B’Elanna asked. Seven felt strange about
discussing what was occupying her thoughts, she also felt her cheeks become
slightly warm. Both her friends watched her with raised eyebrows clearly wanting
an explanation.
“I have recently begun an investigation of,” she hesitated, “poetry.”
“Poetry.” B’lanna looked confused.
“Terran poetry – mostly of the 18th to 20th centuries – it is quite …
engrossing.”
Her friends exchanged incredulous looks before looking back at her.
“That’s great Seven,” Harry said, “I like poetry too.” B’Elanna guffawed at this
and playfully punched him on the shoulder. “What? I do! I’m a sensitive guy.” He
smiled and laughed along with B’Elanna. Seven was unsure about the cause of
their laughter.
“I must return to my project,” Seven said as she stood up, “I enjoyed spending
time with both of you.” She nodded and took her glass to the replicator then
strode out of the room.
Harry and B’Elanna stared at each other for a moment.
“Seven’s in a hurry.” Tom said sitting down with his tray. “What?” He asked in
response to the childish looks on his companions faces.
“Was she?” Harry asked.
“Blushing?! – yah – she was!” B’Elanna shook her head, “wow.”
“Who? Seven?” Tom asked.
“Duhhh!” was pronounced in stereo.
“Wonder what kind of poems she’s been reading?” B’Elanna said.
Seven stared at the lines of the poem on her console screen; tell me what you
think, Kathryn had said. She wondered what Kathryn expected; scholarly
examination of the metaphors and subtle rhymes? Instead Seven decided to give
her Captain what she hadn’t asked for – how the poem made her feel, especially
how she connected it to how she felt about Kathryn. As she wrote Seven felt
tumultuous emotions building inside her. The splash of her tears on the smooth
console surprised her. She re-read her own words; such honest emotion was
unsettling but, she admitted to herself, Kathryn had that effect on her.
Kathryn Janeway had a mostly uneventful day traversing the Delta quadrant. Long
range scans had detected something suspiciously similar to Borg transwarp
signatures early in the day. A probe had been launched as an early warning
system and Kathryn had ordered Tom to adjust their course which, with any luck,
would keep them well away from any Borg activity. Other than that brief bit of
excitement she had passed the time reviewing reports and adding to her official
log. Late in the shift she had given into temptation and re-read Seven’s
message. She stared at the succinct stanza’s trying to divine Seven’s
intentions. She wondered what sort of ‘innocent intemperance’ she might be to
the former Borg. “A warmth as near as if the Sun – Were shining in your Hand.”
She couldn’t deny the warmth she experienced simply being in Seven’s company,
the heat … she could feel her skin begin to flush at the thought of Seven’s
hands. The door chime interrupted her; Tuvok wanted to discuss training
additional crew members to act as a reserve security unit. If he noticed his
Captain was blushing or that her fingers repeatedly caressed the back of the
padd she had been reading he gave no indication.
Following her shift Kathryn took some time to wander the corridors of her ship
stopping to chat with various members of her crew, enjoying their delight in her
attention and concern. Her spontaneous strolls had initially caused some anxiety
until her people understood that she was checking in with them not checking up
on them. The warm smiles and casual conversations helped assuage the immense
guilt Kathryn carried. She had closed herself off from the crew in the past and
had learned from that mistake. She shared her dinner table with Sam and Naomi
Wildman and was quickly caught up in Naomi’s latest project as Captain’s
Assistant. She wanted permission to begin a memory wall in the mess hall,
pictures, art and holo-images of the crew. Kathryn thought it an excellent idea
and insisted that Naomi get started right away. Throughout her entire day
Kathryn had a look of contained happiness that was obvious to everyone. It was
the outward expression of the warmth that was building inside of her, the
growing glow of her emotions surrounding Seven of Nine.
After dinner she declined Naomi’s invitation to explore the Doctor’s large
collection of holo-images and returned to her quarters feeling at loose ends.
She could not stop thinking of Seven and had become convinced that the young
woman was simply sharing a newfound interest with her Captain, not attempting to
seduce her. Kathryn lost a large portion of her evening imagining what that
might be like. As she prepared for bed she noticed a blinking message icon on
the monitor of her personal workstation. She tried in vain to control the giddy
sensation in her stomach as she opened another message from Seven.
Kathryn,
You asked me what I think about this poem but it is more important, I believe,
to describe what it makes me think about and how it makes me feel. The first
stanza reminds me of when I was first on board Voyager, still completely Borg;
how frightened I was, how I shook with rage and fear. What I hungered for then
was the Collective, the solace of so many voices in my head. I hated you so much
then because it was you who caused my fear – the most alien emotion because, of
course, the Borg fear no-one. Did you feel me trembling, in the brig, when you
caught me as I stumbled? How I shook with the certainty that ever cell in my
body was breaking apart? I could feel my body – my suddenly rebellious and human
body rejecting the Borg parts of me- the strong, structured, ordered parts of
me. My skin ached with immense pain and the only strong structured, ordered
thing I could cling to was you. How I hated you for that. How I hated myself for
being weak.
Kathryn felt her heart pounding in her chest. Hated? – past tense – hated, she
swallowed not sure she could handle so much honesty now when she felt so very
vulnerable. She blinked away confused and guilty tears and continued reading.
It was not until much later I began to hunger for the human connections
Dickinson speaks of in her poem; after I had time to observe the crew
interacting with one another I too, wanted companionship. This has been
difficult for me as you know. You have helped me a great deal as have other
members of the crew. I am still awkward in social situations but I am also
improving rapidly and I feel ready for deeper and more complex relationships.
The ‘Crumb’ was the inescapable interconnectedness of the Collective. Millions
of voices and yet each of us was alone. Emotions had to be irrelevant because
such a cacophony of voices added to the cold isolation would have surely turned
every one of us insane. When I think of how much I enjoy my simple freedoms here
on Voyager the Collective cannot compare.
Kathryn let herself cry with relief.
I do at times feel quite odd and uneasy when surrounded by too many of the crew,
but I assure you I never feel that way when I am with you. I am indeed “a
mountain bush transplanted to the road” but with such pleasant company I grow
more comfortable every day. It occurs to me that as that hunger for basic
interaction has lessened another has grown to replace it. A hunger for something
beyond companionship and camaraderie. A hunger to fully experience my emotions.
A hunger for more sensuous interactions with the world.
It is marvelous to wake up together
At the same minute; marvelous to hear
The rain begin suddenly all over the roof,
To feel the air suddenly clear
As if electricity had passed through it …
Seven.
Kathryn ordered a glass of water from the replicator and calmed her breathing.
She scanned the last two lines and then the unfamiliar poem excerpt. Sensuous
interactions? Perhaps she had been wrong about Seven’s intentions – perhaps, she
hoped, completely wrong.