Rules of the Game

She's a vision.

I've always scoffed at the term -- it's far too trite, too much of a cliché to hold any real meaning. But right now, at this moment, the words have never been more true. Seven in her wedding dress -- the material a silvery white satin, the cut simple, form-fitting without being revealing. The neckline conservative, cut straight across the shoulders showing only a hint of skin at the base of her throat. Quarter-length sleeves covering her upper arms, and long gloves that are pulled up almost to the sleeves so only an inch or so of skin is revealed by the subsequent gap in the material. Hair hanging down free from its usual restrictive bun, framing her face in a soft caress. The only visible hint of Seven's Borgness is the ocular implant over her left eye, and even it seems like some exotic adornment. The overall effect is breathtaking. She's never looked so beautiful.

So human.

"Seven." My voice is soft, almost a whisper. I cough, trying to infuse it with some semblance of strength. "What are you doing here?"

She lifts her chin, effectively looking down her nose at me. "I already told you that I have been waiting for you." Her cold voice, her stiff manner, the way she's standing at attention with her hands behind her back -- pure Borg. And completely at odds with how she looks right now.

What's going on here? Why isn't Seven on her honeymoon? Why is she here in my mother's house, in my mother's living room? It's a surreal image, one I can hardly comprehend: Seven in her wedding dress standing by the mantel that my great grandfather carved from a fallen oak -- pictures of me and Phoebe as children and Dad and Mom as newlyweds filling its expanse. My eyes track the length of the mantel, noting the immense family history that is stored on this one piece of wood, feeling like my past and future are being compressed, fused together into this one moment and I'm left feeling dizzy, disoriented--

"Hello, honey."

I'm so surprised to hear another voice in the room I nearly cry out. I follow the sound to find my mother sitting in Grandma's old rocker, directly under the other side of the mantle, across from Seven. I hadn't even noticed her there. "I'm glad Phoebe was able to get in touch with you so quickly," she remarks.

"She just said I should come home, but didn't tell me why," I explain rather unnecessarily.

"It wasn't for her to say." Mom gets up from her chair, glancing over at Seven as she stands. Is that a look of sympathy she gives her? "I'll leave you two alone, so you can talk," Mom says, coming towards me. She squeezes my shoulder briefly as she passes by before disappearing into the kitchen.

Seven is watching me, her gaze enigmatic. "Tom Paris informed me that his father was present yesterday when you were told that you had been exonerated by the investigative panel. Is this correct?"

Okay, whatever I thought she was going to say, that wasn't it.

"He was," I nod.

"I was gratified to hear that you had been cleared of all charges, as I knew you would be."

"Thank you," I answer, not quite sure how else to respond. A quick glance around the rest of the room and I'm satisfied that we're alone, with no one else hiding in plain sight. "Where is Chakotay?" I hear myself ask.

"His location is irrelevant," Seven says. I can feel the temperature in the room drop along with the ice in her tones. "I believe a more appropriate question would be, 'where have *you* been?'"

She's angry. And justifiably so. "I just came from the chapel." Irrationally I wish I'd kept that announcement with me so I could prove I'd been there. "I'm so sorry I was late, that I missed your wedding--"

"You did not miss it," she breaks in.

"I didn't?" I ask blankly.

"The wedding did not take place."

Seven, not married? A surge of hope shoots through me, before I quickly stamp it down. "It didn't take place? But why?"

"Because Commander Chakotay said that it was obvious that your presence was required at my wedding more than his."

I stare at Seven, trying to decipher what she means, but I can't wrap my brain around any of this. Why is she calling her fiancé 'Commander?' What is she doing here looking for me? What the hell is she talking about? "Seven, I don't understand," I say, and take a step towards her. "Tell me what happened, starting from the beginning."

I shouldn't be at all surprised when she takes me literally. "I arrived at the Mission at 1117, Mountain Standard Time. B'Elanna Torres then began to help me prepare for the ceremony by arranging my clothing and accessories. She then helped me to get dressed--"

"Wait, B'Elanna helped you get ready? I didn't realize the two of you had become that close."

"We have not." Impossibly, she straightens her posture even more. "I was told that I should have a member of my family attend me. Since the crew of Voyager has been my collective, my... family, for the past four years, I deemed it appropriate that someone from the crew be with me at this time. The Doctor volunteered, but Chakotay's aunt would not allow it. B'Elanna Torres was then chosen because she was the only female crewmember in attendance."

I cringe inside, knowing full well what she's implying. Because I wasn't there, she was forced to ask help from someone who has treated Seven with open hostility from the moment she joined the Voyager crew. True, the two of them seemed to have reached a détente of sorts over the past year or so, but still. Seven's meaning is clear. I'm the one who should have been there for her.

"At 1221 the Doctor came back to the preparation room to take several holo-images of my ensemble. I asked him if you had arrived. He said that you had not." As Seven speaks, I move forward, closer to the mantel until I'm standing opposite her. She tracks my movement with her eyes but keeps her face forward, continuing to relay the events in the clipped, clear cadence of the Borg. "The wedding was to commence at 1300, but when you still had not arrived, I said that I would wait. At 1308 Commander Chakotay sent Tom Paris back to my room to try to persuade me to proceed with the wedding ceremony. I would not. At 1322 he sent his Aunt Sephia to persuade me, but my answer was the same. At 1337 Chakotay came to persuade me himself. He said that it did not appear as if you would come, and we should not put our happiness on hold for you."

Bastard.

"I refused," she continues. "I told him that I could not get married without you in attendance. When I would not change my mind, Chakotay then proceeded to become irrational. He raised his voice and began to yell. It is then that he said that it was obvious that your presence was required at my wedding more than his. I told him that assessment was incorrect -- that the wedding would not occur without his presence either. So you were both equally important to the proceedings."

I almost laugh -- Seven and her logic. She never ceases to amaze me. "What did he say to that?"

"He declared that if this were the case, there would be no wedding."

"And?" I prompt.

"And then I agreed -- there would be no wedding," she states calmly, unemotionally.

I'm silent for a moment, digesting this information. So Seven refused to marry Chakotay. Because of me. Because I wasn't there. But the brief thrill this thought gives me dissipates immediately, to be replaced with the one thought that tears at my heart: that Seven is now miserable, because of me. "Oh Seven, I'm so sorry." I'm moving towards her -- I want to hold her. Comfort her. "I should have been there for you---"

"Yes, you should have!" she exclaims, finally moving herself. But it's to back away from me. "Why did you not come?"

I stop, holding my hand up in supplication, pleading with her. "Please, listen. I tried for hours. But there was an ion storm--"

"Irrelevant! That does not constitute a valid excuse for missing my wedding!"

"It's not an excuse. When I found out about the storm this morning, I did everything I could to get to you--"

"What do you mean, you found out this morning? Explain," she demands. "I sent you five communications over the past week concerning the impending arrival of this storm! Did you not receive them?"

Oh God. "I did, but--"

"All of the other wedding attendees knew to travel to Earth a day early in order to avoid the storm. Admiral Paris was even with you on Mars yesterday, and yet he arrived on Earth last night to ensure that he would be able to take care of Miral during the ceremony. Why did you not leave the same time as he?"

"Because I didn't know I needed to," I say quietly. I close my eyes, trying to hide the shame I feel. "Because I never opened your messages."

"You received my messages, yet you did not access their contents?" Seven asks in a small voice. At my nod, she stares at me in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I thought you were going to ask me to be in the wedding," I admit with a sigh.

"And the thought of that... it was unacceptable to you?"

I look at Seven, and she's frowning, confused. Hurt. Trying to figure out why I would ever do such a thing to her. She deserves to know the truth. But I can't have this conversation here, with Mom in the other room, likely to walk in with lemonade or cookies at any minute. "Walk with me," I say. I reach out my hand to her, but she hesitates. "Please?" Seven takes an obvious breath, then comes forward to gingerly place her left hand in mine. It's her Borg hand -- I can feel the slight ridges of her implant through the satin glove. I entwine my fingers with hers, then give one reassuring squeeze before leading her outside.

* * * * * *

Seven is staring down at our entwined hands as the screen door slams shut behind us, so I release her, albeit reluctantly. I don't want to let her go, but I also don't want to confuse her any more than I already have. "This way," I say, stepping off the porch, surreptitiously rubbing my fingertips on my thigh in a vain attempt to stop the tingling I still feel from touching her. We enter the cornfields with Seven walking slightly behind me, and I instinctively lead her on the same path we took the last time she was here, towards the old willow tree. And, just as before, when we reach the tree I hold back its branches to guide Seven inside, then I join her beneath the green canopy.

"Seven, I owe you an explanation for my behavior today, as well as over the past few weeks--"

"There is no need for any explanation," she says, her voice cool, sharp as ice. "The reason is quite clear."

"It is?"

"Since your goal of returning to Earth has been reached and you are no longer going to be my Captain, you believe that your role as my mentor is complete. You no longer wish to counsel me, or be my friend."

"You're wrong," I protest. "That's not at all how I feel--"

"I believe it is." Her back is to me, but I can tell by the line of her shoulders that she is tense, upset. "You said once that you could not always be my friend because you sometimes have to be my Captain. Now I find that you are neither."

"Seven, no. You don't understand--"

"But I do. I understand perfectly." She bends down and picks up something from the ground. When she stands I see that it's the hardened husk of the ear of corn that she left here weeks ago. "This is what I am to you. Like this corn, you tore me away from the only world that I had known. Then you took away my shell, all that I was, to make me like you wanted me to be. All because you could," she accuses bitterly. "And now that you are finished with me, you are tossing me aside like so much refuse!" Seven then throws the corn down with such a violent, forceful motion that one end of it stabs into the earth like a dagger.

"Seven," I say softly, soothingly. "You couldn't be more mistaken." I place one hand on her elbow, and move around Seven so I can see her face. Oh God. She's crying. "Shhh, please don't cry..." I reach for her cheek, but she rears away from me.

"I do not know why I am crying," she says, wiping at her eyes with jerky movements. "It is logical that you would want to move on with your life. I am no longer your crewman, so I am no longer your responsibility. I will adapt."

"No, you're not my responsibility," I whisper. "But you *are* my friend. I'm so sorry I've done anything to make you doubt that."

"Then why were you not there for me today?" she demands. "Is this how you treat a 'friend?'" Seven's frustration finally erupts in physical energy and she begins to prowl the width of this... what do I call it? The boughs of the willow tree are so full right now, the branches so long that they drag the ground, creating the illusion that we've been enclosed in our own private sanctuary, completely separate from everything and everyone else. With only fleeting hints of the outside world -- the chirping of a bird, a dapple of sunlight, a small breeze stirring the leaves -- I almost feel as if my old fantasy has come true and we've been transported to some other time, some other dimension simply by entering this place.

I watch as Seven paces with angry, jerky motions, moving in and out of the light that filters through from the canopy above us. "You know you're right," I confess. "I haven't been treating you like a friend. Not for quite some time."

Seven shakes her head. "I do not understand you," she says, crossing in front of me but steadfastly refusing to meet my eyes. "Do you not realize that I am only trying to be what you want me to be? It is you who told me to date, to have relationships... So I endeavor to find someone I know meets with your approval. When I think I do, when I think it is what you want from me, you then refuse to help me prepare for my wedding! You ignore my every request to see you, to discuss it with you! The Doctor has to help me choose my dress, and B'Elanna Torres has to help me get ready. Then you do not even deign to show up for the ceremony!"

If she'd only stop her pacing, let me touch her, let me comfort her. "I have no excuse," I admit. "Not a relevant one, at least. I can only say that I'm sorry. So very sorry. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. I... care far too much about you."

Her face crumples. "Then why? Why are you abandoning me?" she cries.

"Seven... I promise. I am not abandoning you," I say, raising my hands in a calming motion. "I would never, ever abandon you, don't you know that?"

"But that is how it feels! I had thought we could grow closer now, I had hoped we would... " She's starting to break down, her breath catching, hiccupping as she tries to talk. "But instead...you...you bring me to this world, tell me that it is my home, then you leave me alone... I do not understand you...Why make me come here if you intended to leave me...? I do not understand..."

"Oh Seven," I reach for her, and this time she doesn't pull away. My own tears are falling as I pull her to me, telling her to let it go, to let it all out. I try to ignore how wonderful it feels to hold her like this, to care for her, and instead remind myself that I'm the one who caused these tears, who made her feel this way -- rejected, abandoned.

Unloved.

"I have tried to please you, I do everything I can to please you..." she sobs, clutching at me. "I try to be more human, to make you happy... to make you proud... but you only grow more distant and I don't know why... I don't know how to get your attention anymore... I only want your attention, your approval. For you to be proud of me. But it gets harder and harder. Why is it so hard now? What do I have to do? I do not know what to do anymore. I do not know how to make you proud of me. I do not know what you want from me!"

I'm shocked. And I feel a little sick. I know what it's like to want someone's approval so desperately, to crave their attention, their validation. In fact I had almost the exact same conversation with my own father nearly 20 years ago. Is that how I've been with Seven? Guarding my approval jealously, like it is some prize to be earned? Expecting perfection while giving the barest minimum of emotional support in return? Is that what I've become? My father? "Listen to me," I say firmly, pulling away from her so I can see her face. "You don't have to do anything to gain my approval. I'm already proud of you, just as you are. So incredibly proud."

"Then why do you not notice me anymore? Why do you not see me?"

Is that what I've made her think--? Seven! "Of course I notice you. You are the most remarkable person I know -- the bravest, most intelligent, most unique individual I have ever met," I declare, touching her cheek. "I've told you before that our friendship is very important to me. But what I really mean is that *you* are very important to me."

"I... am?" she sniffles, wiping ineffectually at her face with the back of her hand.

"You are. You're one of my dearest, closest friends, and I care for you deeply." I gently push her hand aside, and she lets me caress her tears away with my thumbs. "I'm sorry I haven't let you know that sooner," I murmur. It's time she knew the truth. All of it. Telling Seven couldn't possibly hurt her any more than my not telling her already has.

But first things first -- I've got to get this boot off my foot. The pain has gone from mildly unbearable to piercing, and I can't ignore it any longer. "Here, let's sit down," I say, moving to the tree trunk and taking a seat against it. Carefully I begin to remove my boot, biting off a cry as I pull it over my toe.

"You are damaged," Seven notes, crouching beside me. It's so like her to immediately forget her own troubles if she perceives that I am in pain.

My shoe is dropped to the ground as I stretch my leg out in front of me. "It's nothing, really." Humiliating drunken toe injuries are about the last thing on my list of priorities at this moment.

"I observed that you were limping as we walked from the farmhouse. Come, we should seek medical attention," she says, and starts to slide an arm around my shoulder like she's going to pull me up. Or pick me up, I'm not sure.

I allow myself a nanosecond to savor this moment -- it's only the second time she's ever been the one to initiate any physical contact between us. I'm always, *always* the one who touches her. The only time she touches me is like this -- when she thinks I'm hurt and in need of assistance. But then my nanosecond is over, and I raise my hands to her. "No, don't!" Seven freezes, her face mere centimeters from mine, waiting for me to continue. "It's more important that we finish this conversation. My foot will be alright," I say, and motion to my leg. "I just need to rest it for a while before I try walking on it again."

Seven is frowning like she might argue with me, so I throw in a "please" and lightly clasp her wrist, tugging her down. She acquiesces and sits beside me -- close beside me -- straightening her skirt underneath her as she does. "I hope it doesn't get ruined," I mumble to myself.

"What?"

"Your dress. I hope the grass doesn't stain it."

Seven glances down at the skirt, then back to me. "It is immaterial," she says dismissively. "This dress no longer has a purpose. I will recycle it as soon as possible."

"Oh Seven," I sigh. I shake my head, wishing I was more eloquent, but all I can say is, "I'm so very sorry."

"There is no need to be sorry. I do not care about this piece of clothing."

"But I am sorry. About a great many things. About what that dress now represents. That your wedding day turned out so terribly, because of me. That I'm responsible for what happened--"

"You are incorrect. You are not responsible for a choice that Commander Chakotay and I both made."

"How can I not be? You told me yourself that you called off the wedding because I wasn't there."

"I 'called off' the wedding because Chakotay wanted me to marry him without you in attendance. Kathryn, you said that our friendship is important to you. It is important to me as well. And you... you are the most important person in my life. You are my Captain," she shrugs, as if that one word summed up everything. "He should have known that I would not... that I *could not* continue with the ceremony if you were not present."

"But... canceling the wedding. Isn't that a bit extreme?" What am I saying? "If you would just talk to him, I'm sure you two can work things out." Shut up! "If you thought it would help,"--SHUT UP!--"I could even talk to Chakotay on your behalf, try to smooth things over for you--"

"I do not wish to 'work things out' with Commander Chakotay. He is no longer worthy of my affection," she proclaims arrogantly. Hmm, perhaps I can assume she's not dying of love for the man. I struggle not to smile in relief. "If he truly had the feelings for me that he had claimed, he would not have given me such an ultimatum -- to choose him or my friendship with you. He should have realized that I would always choose you."

A few words from her and there goes my belly, feeling like it's turning into warm pudding. But surely she doesn't mean that the way it sounded... does she? I look into her clear, innocent blue eyes. Of course she doesn't. She said 'friendship.' That's all she's talking about -- the importance of our friendship. I have to remember that. Tattoo it on my forehead. Carve it into my heart. "Still," I sympathize, "I'm sorry that he put you in that position. That he hurt you."

"I believe I was more hurt by your absence than I was by anything Chakotay did," she states bluntly, making me wince. It stings all the more because I know she's not being vindictive. Just honest. "You have yet to explain to my satisfaction why you were not there. Why you ignored my messages. And why you did not want to participate in my wedding."

Oh, I wanted to participate, alright. Just not like she thinks. "The truth is..." God, this is so hard. "The truth is I didn't want you to marry Chakotay. In fact I intended to find you before the wedding and tell you exactly that."

Seven visibly stiffens. "You do not think I am a sufficient mate for him."

"No! That's not it at all. You would be a sufficient mate for anyone. More than 'sufficient,' in fact." I shake my head. "Don't doubt that for a minute."

"Then why?" she prompts. "Why did you not want me to marry Chakotay?"

I hesitate. I can't just blurt out my feelings. I have to build up to them, put them in context. "Seven..." I reach for her left hand, enclose it in both of mine. Thankfully she lets me. "You know that I dedicated the last seven years of my life to one thing -- getting my people home. It was my sole reason for living, for existing. Everything, and... everyone... had to take second place to that. When I told you I couldn't always be your friend, that's what I meant. That first and foremost I was Voyager's Captain. That took precedence over every other part of my life. It had to. It had to be more important to me than my friends, the people I... loved, so I could dedicate everything to bringing you all home. I couldn't allow myself to grow too close to any one person, or it would compromise my ability to command. If I felt myself starting to care too much for someone, I made myself pull away. Thinking it would be better for them, and for Voyager. I couldn't really love anyone as long as my soul belonged to my ship." I squeeze Seven's hand. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

She nods slowly. "I believe so."

"Because I was Captain, I could never let on that I had fallen in love." Seven's eyes widen at that. God, what she must think of me. But it's too late to stop now. "If the timeline had continued on uninterrupted," I say, "I would have lived my life exactly the way that Admiral Janeway did. I would have stood aside and watched you and Chakotay get married. And I would never have let anyone know how much it hurt to see you with him." I shake my head, trying in vain to dislodge the image that thought brings to mind -- the kiss they shared at my reception. "But now everything is different. Everything is possible. Everything is new. I can finally tell the person I love how I really feel."

Seven jerks her hand away. "So this is the reason you did not want Commander Chakotay and I to marry?" she exclaims, her eyes flashing.

Oh God. She's angry. I thought she might be embarrassed, like she was when the Doctor publicly declared his love for her, but not this. "Seven, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you--"

"How could you not know that I would be upset by this?" she asks in disbelief. "Of course I had heard the rumors--"

"Wait, what rumors?"

"--but I always assumed that they were false, that you would not keep such feelings secret--"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, panicked. How could anyone have known? I was so careful--

"--but now you tell me that those rumors were true, that you are in love with Chakotay!"

What the hell--?

"No! You've gotten it all twisted. I'm not in love with Chakotay!" I feel the words forming, rising deep within me, gaining momentum until they hurtle through my chest and burst from my lips with the force of a cannonball:

"I'm in love with you!"

I watch the shock register on Seven's face -- the slight widening of her eyes, the sharp intake of breath.

Then silence.

Hours pass, maybe days before Seven finally speaks, her voice small, unrecognizable.

"What... what did you say?"

"Come on, you're the one with the eidetic memory," I joke, but there's no answering smile. I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. "I said I'm in love. With you."

I wait nervously for her reaction, certain that I can hear Seven's cortical node going to warp as she tries to resolve this new information with the paradigm she had formed, the illusion she had of me. "You're in love... with me," she repeats, as if saying the words out loud will help her comprehend them. Then Seven's brow furrows the same way it always does when she is about to ask some particularly impossible question, so I steel myself for what's about to come. "How long?" she asks. "How long have you... loved me?"

All my life and a thousand more, it seems. Until the 12th of never. Forever 'til the end of time. But I owe her an explanation, not song lyrics. "I'm not exactly sure. I know I've cared about you for a long time, almost from the moment we severed you from the Collective." The first time ever I saw your face... I thought the sun rose in your eyes, and the moon and stars were the gifts you gave... "I could see such potential in you even then, such possibility. And such arrogance," I add with a fond smile. "Which would have made you insufferable if you weren't so damn brilliant." A corner of her mouth lifts slightly -- that's a good sign. If she smiles maybe that means she doesn't hate me. Or worse, is disgusted by me.

"But there was so much you had to learn about yourself, about what it means to be human," I continue. "And I was convinced that I was the only one who could teach you, the only one who could guide you. I took that responsibility very seriously. And very personally. But it didn't take long to realize I wasn't just spending time with you because I had to. I was enjoying your company, everything about you. Your intelligence, your sense of humor"--she's dangerously close to a smile now--"even the way you challenged me. You made me work for everything, for every decision, every action. Every time you questioned me I learned something new about myself, and I... I liked that.

"I suppose my feelings for you just kind of grew from there, and before I knew it, there I was. In love with you." I shrug, absently picking some lint off my pants. "I refused to acknowledge it to myself for a long time. I didn't want to believe I could do anything so... unprofessional. Falling for a member of my crew," I scoff, shaking my head derisively. "And one that was so dependent on me, at that. But when the Borg Queen forced you into returning to the Collective so Voyager wouldn't be assimilated, I couldn't hide from it anymore. I knew I loved you then, because I wouldn't let you go even when you said that's what you wanted. I couldn't."

"That is why you came for me?" she asks softly. "Why you rescued me from the Borg?"

"Oh, I'll admit my personal feelings for you played a part. They're what kept me convinced that you hadn't returned to the Borg on your own, when all the facts seemed to say that you had. The Seven I knew, the person I cared for, wouldn't have left us. I was sure of it. I let my heart lead my head, and it led me straight to the transmission wave from the Borg Queen. When I realized that she had been in contact with you for days before we stole the transwarp coil, I knew you'd been coerced into leaving," I say. Then I raise my chin and insert an edge of command steel to my voice. "But make no mistake about this: I came for you because I was your Captain. Because I never leave a member of my crew behind."

Seven nods, so apparently this answer satisfies her. Which is good, because there are some instances where my personal feelings for her may have affected my actions a little more than I care to admit. Some instances that I'd just rather not go into right now. Like how I was willing to hunt down and kill a Borg drone for its spare cortical node so Seven could live. Or how I went ballistic when she was abducted by Ransom, tearing after him and the Equinox like some sort of avenging angel.

Or bat out of hell, depending on the point of view.

I notice Seven's brow is furrowing again as she formulates another question, so I try to prepare myself for anything. "Kathryn, you said earlier that as long as Voyager was in the Delta Quadrant you couldn't allow yourself to grow too close to any one person, or you thought it would compromise your ability to command. If you felt yourself starting to care too much for someone, you made yourself pull away." Damn fine thing, that eidetic memory. "Are you implying that this is why you seemed so distant towards me the past year? That this is why I felt like you no longer had time for me?" she asks, a hint of anger creeping in as she warms to her subject. "Is this why I began to think you no longer wished to be my friend? Because you *loved* me?"

"When you put it like that, it doesn't make much sense," I admit. "But you're not taking into account my position, or my responsibility. I was your commanding officer, for God's sake. My feelings would have been inappropriate in almost any situation. But in the Delta Quadrant? They were impossible. I couldn't even entertain the thought of loving you. But the more time I spent with you, the more I did think about it. And to be honest," I duck my head in embarrassment, "I was worried that you would somehow figure it out. I didn't know if your Borg senses would pick up on how... attracted I am to you. The effect that you have on me, anytime I'm near you--"

"Explain." Seven tilts her head to the side, focusing intently on me like this is the most fascinating thing she's ever heard. "What is the effect that I have on you?"

Hoo-boy. Me and my big mouth. "Oh, uh, you know. The physical results of released endorphins. Dilated pupils, increased respiration, things like that." Then I quickly continue before she can ask for further clarification, "I also couldn't trust myself not to slip up and say something to you. You remember when I first invited you here, when we thought we might lose you last year." This is a statement, not a question, because I already know that she does. "I almost told you I loved you then. Hell, I practically did. Do you know how many other members of my crew I've asked to visit my family home with me? Exactly none. You're the only one."

"I thought you were just being kind, trying to give me something to look forward to, something to live for," she murmurs to herself. Then Seven shakes her head. "But I do not understand, we have now been in the Alpha Quadrant for 8.2 weeks. Why did you not tell me any of this sooner?"

"Because you had already started to see Chakotay, and I didn't think I had the right to interfere. So instead I've been keeping myself busy by focusing on the official inquiry, subconsciously hoping that it would distract me from thinking about you... and your upcoming marriage."

"Yet you said that you intended to tell me today. What caused you to change your mind?"

"A combination of things. The first was finding out that I'd been cleared by the investigative panel--"

"As I was certain you would be."

"--and then being offered a promotion."

"Tom Paris made no mention of a promotion," Seven remarks, obviously thinking out loud. Then she smiles at me. "So you are going to be an Admiral now." If I didn't know better, I'd swear it seems like she's more than just pleased for me. It almost seems like she's proud.

"Maybe. But that's not the point. The point is that all my professional problems were suddenly resolved, and I had no other crises left to keep my mind off of you." I smile slightly. "But the clincher came this morning, when my counselor paid me a surprise visit. Somehow she managed to get me to admit that I... care for you. Then she persuaded me that I should talk to you, that I should tell you everything. That you had the right to know how I feel."

"Whatever the reason, I am glad that you have told me."

"Are you?" I ask, feeling incredibly vulnerable. "Are you really? You're sure you don't feel awkward... or embarrassed? I would hate to make you uncomfortable around me."

"None of those adjectives adequately describes my feelings at the moment," she states.

Well, that's a relief. I think. "Then... may I ask, how *do* you feel?"

"I am not sure. I am still processing my feelings about this new information," she summarizes with succinct honesty. A perfectly understandable answer.

Disappointing, but understandable.

"But I do know one thing," Seven continues, "I do not want you to resume the same behavior towards me that you have exhibited during the past year. That would be unacceptable," she declares, her eyes flashing. "I will not abide feeling ignored by you any longer!"

God, she's arrogant. And sexy as all hell. "Just give me a chance and I'll do everything in my power to ensure you never feel that way again. That's a promise," I say vehemently. "I want nothing more than to make up for all the times I haven't been there for you. I want us to spend time together. Do things together. Whatever you want."

Seven thinks a moment, then lowers her head. "I... would like to see more of Earth," she says, her manner heartbreakingly hesitant, as if she still expects me to say no.

"And I'd love to show you! Anything," I enthuse, hoping my excitement will help reassure her I won't let her down again. "Just let me know where you want to go and I'll make the arrangements. I would love to see my world through your eyes."

"Perhaps... you could show me that 'big ditch' you spoke of?"

"'Big ditch?'" I'm confused for a second, then I laugh. "Oh! You mean the Grand Canyon."

"That is what your father called it, is it not? 'The Earth's biggest ditch.'"

"Yes, yes it is." She's so damn adorable, I can't stop myself from grinning at her like some love-struck adolescent. "I'll take you any time you want. Tomorrow, if you like."

"That would be acceptable." Her brow furrows again, but I'm so busy thinking how cute she looks I don't have the sense to duck. "Kathryn, what is to be the nature of our relationship now?" she asks point-blank. "What do you want from me?"

I gasp, feeling like the air has been knocked out of my lungs. That's my Seven -- no vacillation, no build up, just one punch straight to the solar plexus. "What do I want from you?" I repeat, hoping to buy enough time to come up with a proper response. Two different answers spring to mind -- one honorable, the other...definitely not. I go the nobler route, though my traitorous body is humming like a starship to her warp core. "I want you to find happiness and success in whatever you do, with whoever you decide to spend your life," I answer. "Whether it be here on Earth, or on Vulcan, or Trill, or wherever. The Alpha Quadrant is full of possibility for you, and I want you to take advantage of every opportunity. No one deserves it more than you.

"But most of all"-- God, please don't let me sound like a complete idiot-- "I want you to know that you have been loved, deeply and completely. There's a quote that I read once by a 20th century author named Anne Rice, that probably says what I mean better than I ever could. Of course," I chuckle nervously, "I don't have your eidetic memory, so forgive me if I paraphrase." I run my hand through my hair, trying to cover how self-conscious I'm feeling, how shy. How completely inept I am at this. "What I want, what I wish for you, is that you are able to move through life with the grace and dignity that only comes from having once been cherished. If there is nothing else I can offer you, I hope I can at least give you that. The knowledge that you are loved by someone, beyond all others. That I cherish you. And always will."

There is a moment of silence, then she whispers, "Thank you, Captain. I... do not know what to say."

I don't chastise her for reverting back to using my rank. That's obviously how she'll always see me -- as her Captain. "You don't have to say anything, Seven," I assure her, hoping the regret doesn't color my voice. I don't have to be telepathic to know what she's thinking. It's quite apparent that for her, I can only be her superior officer, nothing more. "I didn't tell you any of this to draw some sort of response from you, to influence you in any way -- I hope you know that. But you deserved an explanation for why I've been so cold to you. You deserved to know the truth. My only desire now is that you'll give me a second chance and let me be the friend to you that I should have been all along."

"And that is all that you want from me?" she prods. "My friendship?"

I shift my right leg up and hug my knee, trying to keep my hands busy as I concentrate on answering appropriately, respectfully. Trying to ignore the body heat that I swear seems to beckon to me. It's so hard not to touch her, not to place a hand on her arm or back as we speak... Except now such familiarity would be misconstrued. Or rather, understood for the sublimated desire that it is. That it's always been. "I don't want anything from you that you are not prepared to give of your own volition. If friendship is what you can offer me, then it is more than enough."

Seven smiles that endearing little half-smile of hers. "That is a very proper response, but it does not answer the question."

"No, I don't suppose it does." I'm immensely uncomfortable talking about this, especially with her so close, but I at least owe Seven the courtesy of answering all her questions honestly. I lean forward, trying to distance myself from her any way I can. "In a perfect world, I suppose I would want the same thing anyone else in love wants," I admit.

"And that is?"

"To be loved in return," I say simply.

"You would want me to be in love with you," she interprets.

Something in Seven's tone makes me turn to her. Her eyes are intense, seeming closer than before, and I'm reminded of that moment in the Maestro's studio when we sat together like this, in front of a holographic fire, and talked of perfection. "If this were a perfect world, yes. Of course I would."

"And would you want me to be your lover?" she asks, her voice soft, like a caress.

Hearing those words come out of her mouth -- oh my God. My response is immediate, extreme, and purely physical, like going through zero 'G' training in the Coral Sea, or diving nude into one of the hot mineral springs on Risa. I shift in my seat, wondering if her Borg senses pick up on exactly what she's doing to me. "Yes," I manage to strangle out.

"And would you want me to kiss you?" she murmurs.

I feel my heart stop, then resume beating at triple its normal pace. "Yes, I...I suppose I would," I stammer.

Clear blue eyes are definitely moving closer now, and I feel her hand slip across my cheek. Red alert claxons go off in my head-- Seven is touching me! "Remain still," she whispers, as if I could possibly move, like I'm not completely paralyzed by her touch.

Then she kisses me.

It is a carefully executed caress, a slight brush of lips that is not too gentle, not too hard, almost like a practiced motion. And then it's over and she's pulling back to look at me. Do I imagine the challenge in her eyes? "Is that what you would want?" she asks.

My lips are on fire and my blood is throbbing in my ears, but I tell her, "No."

"No?" she frowns.

"More like this," I husk. Then I tangle my hand in the hair at the nape of her neck and pull her to me. My mouth is hard on hers, demanding, bruising. Parting her full lips to slip my tongue between her teeth, thrusting into a soft, sweet warmth that welcomes me, pulls me in, captures me as she returns my kiss with fervor. It's like no kiss I've ever felt before -- electric, pulsing, explosive. The kind of kiss that could shatter worlds, universes, realities.

When I finally pull away, I nip at her lower lip with my teeth, tug on it sharply before releasing her. It takes another moment for Seven to open her eyes and look at me, and when she does her pupils are wide, so wide her eyes look dark. Like she's been drugged.

I wonder if Chakotay never kissed her like this.

Seven's cheeks are flushed, and I can feel her breath heavy on my face as I watch the tip of her pink tongue appear to trace the path left by my lips. I don't realize she's reaching for me until her fingers thread into my hair, holding me still as her mouth searches for mine. Then she kisses me again. This time hard. Teeth grinding against mine, tongue slipping between my lips, thrusting deep inside. When she finally pulls away she captures my lower lip with her teeth, tugging on it for a brief moment before releasing me.

Now I'm the one who opens my eyes slowly. And when I do, I know I'm not imagining the challenge I see in hers.

The game is on.

"Is that better?" she asks, her voice husky.

"It's close," I answer. Then we're both moving, both reaching for each other. Mouths searching, lips sliding together, tongues slipping in, tangling. Arms encircling backs, breasts crushing together. Someone moans, but I'm not sure which one of us it is as our breaths mingle, become one. There is nothing else but this, nothing else but this...

Suddenly I am weightless, floating -- but only for a moment as Seven lifts me away from the tree trunk and lays me down, the weight of her body following me, covering me, pressing me into the grass. I tear my mouth from hers but only long enough to search out her throat, find that spot just below her ear, the one I know drives me wild. I suck on it, and this time the moan is definitely Seven's. My hand in her hair keeps her head pulled to the side, exposing her neck to my greedy lips and teeth, while my other hand trails from her muscled shoulders down the slope of her back, lightly teasing rounded curves and then traveling upwards to start the journey again.

Her fingers move against me as well, running up my side up... up... close to... oh my God, she's going to touch my--

"Wait..." Who said that? "Seven, wait..." Damn. It was me. "Please," I say, placing my hand over hers, stopping her while I still can.

"What is wrong?" she gasps, her breathing heavier, her voice thicker than I've ever heard it.

I struggle to remain coherent, to stem the tide of pent up desire that threatens to overwhelm the last vestiges of my control. "I need to know... what are we doing?"

Seven frowns, obviously having some difficulty processing my question. "It is my understanding that we are in the process of kissing and caressing each other's bodies until a sufficient state of arousal has been reached that we may copulate."

"Oh," I say weakly, feeling an immediate surge in hormones nearly short out my brain. That's got to be the sexiest damn thing anyone's ever said to me. "No, I mean..." Yes, what do I mean? "It's just that..." Hurry up and spit it out! "I need to know I'm not taking advantage... that this is really what you want..."

"What I want?" she repeats, her eyes blinking, trying to focus. Then Seven's frown clears and she bends close to me, so close I feel each word caress my lips as she answers, "What I want is to be your lover, Captain. I want you to teach me how."

Oh my Lord.

Seven's words explode in me like a photon torpedo, destroying all protests and leaving behind only this incredible, raging flood that crashes over me, engulfs me. This is the one lesson in humanity I've wanted most to share with her, but I never dared hope, never even dreamed that I would ever be in this position. Which of course means there's only one thing left for me to do now.

Change positions.

I kiss her again, then leverage my uninjured foot against the ground to roll us both over, so I can take control. Much better. Now it's my turn to rise up over Seven, my lips hovering above hers. I start to lower my mouth but she rises to meet me, and I pull away. "Don't move," I whisper. Seven lowers her head obediently, willing to let me take the lead. For now. I move over her again, close, so very close. I can feel the heat radiating between us, but I do not kiss her.

I pull back slightly, letting my legs fall on either side of hers, and I bring my knees up so I'm on all fours, straddling her. When I move towards Seven's mouth this time, I let my hips roll with the motion, thrusting almost imperceptibly against her. My lips are parted, moving slightly over hers, back and forth in the ghost motion of a kiss, but still we do not touch.

I feel her trembling beneath me, her breath shaky as I move back, then pass over her again, our breath mingling for a moment, the electricity building to a palpable charge before I move away once more. When I move forward again, I allow our lips to brush ever so slightly, only for a second. We both moan at the contact.

Back, then forward again -- lips touch, slide against each other, hips thrust, then move away. Back, then forward again -- the tip of my tongue licks the inside of her upper lip. I pull away. When I roll forward again lips meet and my tongue slips inside, exploring the line of her teeth, briefly brushing against her tongue before pulling back. Her hips are now rising up to meet mine so when I move forward our groins thrust together, making us both moan. When our lips touch this time I don't pull away, allowing the teasing, erotic dance to build, tongues tangling, then undulating together. Our bodies thrusting slowly, grinding into each other--

God it's hot. I tear away from her, my breathing heavy. Fingers fumbling at my tunic -- get it off! Seven realizes what I'm doing, adds her fingers to the endeavor. It's finally open, and I throw both the tunic and outer jacket off in one motion. Then the undershirt. It's got to go too. I cross my arms over my waist and grab the edge of the shirt, roll it up and yank it over my head. Throw it behind me. All that's left is my Starfleet issue bra. That can stay. At least for the moment.

Seven is staring at me with such focused curiosity, I can almost feel it. Please, touch me. I need you to touch me. She lifts her hands hesitantly, but only goes so far as to place them on my thighs. I can see the question in her eyes. "You can touch me if you want," I murmur, my mouth dry.

Then I lean over her again and, as if it was planned, Seven's hands are there to meet me, cupping my breasts as I settle over her. My palms are pressed into the grass by her head, my arms extended, allowing her to test the weight of my breasts. Nipples harden immediately. She's got that little furrow in her brow again, but this time there's no difficult question, only action. Her thumbs roll over both my nipples, once, then again. Oh my God. Skin, she has to touch my skin. I need to feel her hands on me. But she makes no move to remove my bra, continuing to touch me through the material. Continuing to drive me crazy.

"You can touch my skin... if you want to," I manage to rasp. Her eyes fly to mine, then her hands are sliding inside my bra, removing each breast from its cup, freeing it. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it'll do. Then --oh my God-- she's touching me, caressing me, rubbing her palms over my nipples and I'm turning my head away, biting my lip. Please, more. Please- "Pinch them," I blurt out, surprised at both the command and how ragged my voice sounds. Seven doesn't seem to mind, though. In fact she seems all too willing to oblige as her fingers close over me, pinching gently.

"Oh God," I moan out loud. Harder. "Harder... you can do it harder."

"How much harder?" she asks, watching me closely.

"Incrementally...harder..." I mumble. Which she does. With surprising skill. Amazing skill. Wonderful... fantastic... skill...

I'm moving against her, hips rolling, thrusting. Now if she'd only use her mouth. I sway forward, moving closer to her face. "Your mouth..." I whisper. My Seven is nothing if not a quick study, and immediately raises her full lips to my right breast and then... "Oh... my... God..." Her mouth closes over my nipple and I'm surrounded by warm wet heat and for this, no instructions are necessary as instinct takes over and she's sucking on me, and I swear it feels like her mouth is between my legs instead and it's too wonderful, too intense, too soon... Growing, building, everything so fast, so incredibly fast, and suddenly...

I'm there.

My arms... shaking... I can't hold myself up. I fall forward onto my elbows, surrounding Seven's head with my upper body. But she doesn't let go. Her fingers on my left breast, pinching, tugging, her teeth and tongue and lips on my right breast nipping, rolling, sucking on me and--

"Oh God--!" My head rears back, mouth agape, eyes closed tight. "Oh God... Seven... oh...GOD!" My body tenses for a long moment as I cry out, then I collapse onto her.

Moments later I'm aware of my breath reflecting back on me, hot, from my face pressing into Seven's hair. Her hands now on my back, holding me to her. In the distance, a bird is chirping.

I press a kiss into Seven's forehead, then roll onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow. She looks a little... perplexed. "Hey," I say softly, and brush a few errant strands from her brow. "Are you okay?"

She nods slightly. "Was that... acceptable?"

"'Acceptable' doesn't begin to describe it," I smile.

"How did... I mean..." she stammers, uncharacteristically searching for words. "Did you... achieve orgasm?"

She's so charmingly innocent. "I did," I affirm, smoothing out that little furrow in her brow with my fingertips.

"But... I only manipulated your breasts," she says.

"Sometimes that's all it takes. We women are such wonderful creatures, we can have an orgasm at least a dozen different ways," I chuckle. "But I must admit it usually takes more than that for me. I suppose I was just that... excited by you," I shrug, trying not to give into feelings of self-consciousness. How else can she learn if she doesn't ask?

"Are all women as... responsive to breast stimulation as you?"

"Only if they're lucky," I tease. "Actually, different women like different things. But I'm not exactly an expert. You're the first woman I've ever been with," I admit, deciding holograms don't count. "So I'm learning too." I smile and gently touch her face. "Give me just another minute or so to get my strength back, then you can show me what you like."

Seven's eyes dart away from me. "Kathryn..." I wait, but she doesn't finish the thought.

"What?" I cup her cheek. "What is it?"

"I do not know what it is that I 'like,'" she admits nervously.

"You don't...?" My relaxed brain takes a minute to work around that one, then I frown. "Didn't you and Chakotay...?"

"I did not pursue a physical relationship with Commander Chakotay, beyond kissing," she states. "We had decided to wait until after we were married to copulate."

"Not 'copulate,'" I correct the terminology automatically, "'make love.'" How... quaint, that they decided to wait. And how wonderful! Chakotay, you beautiful, honorable bastard! I feel my lips beginning to curve in a smug grin, then I finally realize what Seven is really saying. She's a virgin. I've just been making love with a virgin. Making her pleasure me. "Oh God," I exclaim, and start to sit up. "Oh, Seven, forgive me, I had no idea--"

"You are disappointed," she says miserably. "You do not think I have enough sexual experience for you."

My heart spasms at the self-doubt I hear in her voice, and I lay back down beside her. "No, that's not it, believe me. I just don't want to take advantage of you, any more than I already have." Seven's answer is to turn her head away so I can't see her eyes. "Seven, look at me," I say, and reach for her chin. "Look at me." She allows me to turn her head, and I see that her eyes are shining, as if she's about to cry. "Please, understand. I would love to make love to you, but..." Ah hell, there it goes. One tiny tear sliding down the side of her face. I told her I never wanted to hurt her again, and here I am already going back on my word before the day is through. "Shh, don't cry." I press my lips to Seven's cheek and kiss her tear away. "You tell me what you want me to do," I whisper. "I'll do whatever you want."

"I want you to make love to me," she states plainly. Then Seven does the one thing I can never resist: she says "please."

And so I kiss her. Softly, sweetly. Then I lean back and tug at the material on her shoulder. "You'll have to take this off," I order huskily.

Seven doesn't hesitate. She rolls forward onto her feet and pulls the dress up and over her head in what seems to be one fluid, continuous motion. For a moment she stands there looking down on me in her gloves and heels and underwear, as arrogant and regal as the day she stepped out of that alcove on the Borg cube, all the power and knowledge of the Collective behind her. Chosen out of trillions to speak for the Queen herself. How special she must have been, even to the Borg. How unique. The one thing the Borg and I have always agreed on. "Give me your dress," I murmur. Seven complies, and I spread the material out over the spot she'd vacated. I wonder if she realizes what I am doing -- how I want to protect her perfect pink skin, make her feel comfortable, safe...cherished. As I do this she is stepping out of her shoes and peeling her gloves down her arms, dropping them onto the ground. She's standing in just two strips of satin, her golden hair haloed by the canopy of green, but before I can protest and say I'd rather remove her underwear myself, she has pulled them off as well and tossed them aside.

Then she's laying back down on top of the dress and Seven of Nine is beside me, completely, gloriously nude. Of course I've seen her nude before, each time I assisted the Doctor with the many procedures he's done to remove or repair her various implants. But I've never seen Seven like this. There is no arrogance now as she looks up at me, offers herself to me. Instead, a hint of nervousness. A definite air of excitement. And most of all, complete and total trust. My heart swells with the responsibility she's giving me. And I can only think one thing:

Mine.

Slow. I have to take it slow. Let her pleasure build, then bring her to orgasm gently. If I can. Oh Lord, please let me be able to. It should be easy, right? Just touch her the way I like to be touched. The way I touch myself. I smile to hide my own nervousness, then I kiss her. Light, teasing. Lips caressing each other softly. Then deepening as I shift my weight, moving more fully onto her. The delicious silky feel of her warm, soft skin sliding against mine. My hands slip under her back, grasp her shoulders as I feel her arms curl up around my neck, holding to me. "I love you," I whisper, my lips releasing hers to trail downwards, nip at her chin. She rears her head back, exposing her long lean throat to me and I follow the line of it with my mouth. Stopping for a gentle bite here, sucking hard on tender skin, not caring if it bruises, knowing her nanoprobes will repair any damage almost immediately.

Then I'm traveling down, over Seven's chest to kiss the valley between her full breasts, my hands softly caressing the sides, carefully avoiding her nipples. They are a light, dusky pink, and hard. So hard. But I concentrate instead on the creamy expanse surrounding them, lightly swirling my fingers in circles, growing closer to dusky peaks. I kiss the underside of one soft breast, sucking on it gently as my hands grow closer... closer...

"Oh... " Seven cries, as a fingertip grazes one nipple, then is gone. I repeat this motion several times, brushing harder with each stroke, until finally I take one nipple firmly in my fingers and squeeze gently, ever so gently, then release it. I treat her other nipple to the same attention -- lightly brushing it, then squeezing gently. Seven's eyes are closed, head rolling from side to side, her back arching upwards, pushing herself towards me. "Please..." she begs. I comply, and brush one nipple with my mouth. Lightly. She arches further, and I circle the bud with my tongue once, then slowly close my lips over it. Capture it, suck it into moist heat. Teasing it with my tongue, rolling it, nibbling gently with my teeth. Her hips are moving, writhing beneath me as my fingers clasp her other nipple, pulling on it mercilessly.

God, I want to touch her. To taste her. To know what it's like to feel her come. My fingers resume their circular motion and I move away from her nipple, down... down... Until I brush the first of the silvery ridges that line her abdomen. Seven's hand covers mine immediately, halting me, holding it in place. I don't even register this as an obstacle, however, and instead begin to kiss downwards, nipping at the skin under her breast, licking down... down... Then her hand is in my hair, holding me still. And I realize her hips have stopped their enticing rolling, and her whole body has gone stiff.

I look up. "What? What is it?" I ask softly.

Her eyes dart away from mine. "Can you not continue to manipulate my breasts?"

"Of course... I love touching you, tasting you." Ah, that got her attention. She's looking at me again. "But I'd like to touch the rest of you too, if you'll let me."

"I do not wish for you to," she says, again looking away.

Ouch. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. But if I know my Seven, there's more to it than that. "What is it, Seven? Please, tell me what's wrong."

Her full lips are turned down in a frown, and for a moment I don't think she's going to answer. When she finally does, her voice is so soft I almost don't hear. "My abdominal implant. I do not want you to touch it."

Of course, how stupid of me. "Is it too sensitive? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry--"

"No, it is not too sensitive. It is too... Borg," she says with distaste.

"Too Borg?" I pull myself up so I can better see her face. "What does that mean?"

"I am not fully human, like you. You are beautiful, perfect. I am... not," she says, shame tingeing her voice. "Parts of me are still very Borg. I do not wish for you to be... disgusted by me."

"Seven, you are a very beautiful woman, don't you know that?" I exclaim. "And I want to make love to you. To all of you." I reach down as if to touch her implant, but she stops me, grabs me with her Borg hand. Undaunted, I lift her hand to my lips. "Because I love you," I say, and press a kiss into the meshed skin. "I love every part of you. Please let me make love to you. I want to make you happy."

Except she looks far from happy now. She looks miserable, in fact. And very unconvinced. I sigh in frustration. The mood is definitely broken, and I have no idea how to get it back. I don't want her memory -- her perfect memory, at that -- to record her first sexual experience as an abortive failure. But how can I convince her that I'm not disgusted by her if she won't let me touch her? "Oh Seven..." I clasp her hand tightly, feeling the slight ridges on her fingers--

Wait a minute.

Ridges.

I release her hand and roll onto my back, then I start to unfasten my pants. Seven sits up, looking down on me with renewed interest. "Help me with this." She complies, and helps slide my pants and underwear down my right leg, then removes them along with my right boot. I leave my pants on my left leg so I don't have to contend with pulling them over my swollen foot. Plus my Starfleet training still makes me leery of being caught outdoors without my pants on, even though I'm not sure my pants could technically qualify as being 'on' right now.

"Your leg is injured," Seven notes suddenly.

At first I think she's talking about my foot again until she gently touches the five crescent-shaped welts now visible on my thigh. "It's nothing," I say quickly, hoping to distract her before she can make any correlation between the size of the marks and the dimensions of my hand.

"Are you certain?"

"Positive. It's irrelevant." My palms are on her shoulders, and I guide her back into a sitting position. She steadies me as I throw my leg over her hips, straddling her again. "Seven of Nine," I say. Then I recite her Borg designation, kissing her gently between each word. "Tertiary... Adjunct... to... Unimatrix... Zero... One. I am in love with you. That means I love everything about you." I take her Borg hand in mine, spread her fingers apart. "Everything," I emphasize. I press her first two fingers together, kiss their metallic tips, and slowly draw them into my mouth. Seven's eyes widen, watching in rapt attention as I hold her hand between my two as if I'm in prayer, and I push her fingers further into me. Sucking on them, caressing them with my undulating tongue. Pulling her fingers out ever so slowly, then pushing them back in. Thrusting them into my mouth.

Seven's lips part in a gasp.

Gradually I remove her hand, kiss the palm once before pressing it to my chest, over my heart. "I love you," I whisper. Then I'm guiding it down, over my breast... over my abdomen... Seven is avidly watching as I bring her hand to the juncture between my legs. "I love you," I repeat. Then I squeeze her index and middle fingers together again, and slide them into my wet heat. I feel her fingers slipping against me, bumping my clitoris and I cry out. Seven starts to pull away, but I hold her tightly, firmly against me. "I want you to feel the effect you have on me," I murmur. Her eyes fly to mine. "Please... I want you to touch me. Let me guide you." My smile is encouraging, warm. Loving. I feel Seven relax as she acquiesces, allowing me to manipulate her hand, control it. I begin to rub her fingers against me, rubbing them back and forth, closer and closer to--

There.

I lean in, place my lips by her ear and whisper, "I want to feel you inside me." Then I push her fingers into me and it's not nearly as awkward or difficult as I would have thought -- I'm so excited, so ready she slides right in. I moan as I slowly thrust her fingers deep inside. God, I was right. Those ridges do feel wonderful. "Like this," I say huskily. I pull her fingers out slowly, almost all the way, then thrust them back inside, mimicking the motion I'd made with my mouth. I guide her for a moment more, then release her hand, letting Seven take over. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, holding on as she thrusts into me. "That's it... follow my hips..." I croon, slowly rising up and then thrusting down onto her hand.

Then I bend my head to hers and we're kissing, hard, deep kisses -- her tongue thrusting in my mouth matching the rhythm of her fingers moving inside me... Seven's fingers... thrusting... inside me... Oh God. I tear my mouth away from hers as my hands move to press against her shoulders. "Your thumb... rub your thumb against me..." I gasp, rubbing my own thumb back and forth over her skin. She correctly interprets what I mean, and begins rubbing the pad of her thumb over my clitoris, making me cry out.

It's too much... too much... I try to push away but her arm is around my waist, holding me still as her Borg hand moves inside me, rubs against me, faster, harder. She leans forward and captures my breast with her lips, sucking, slurping it into her mouth and everything is sensation... Perhaps because I still hold some charge from the ion storm, or maybe I'm reacting to her metallic tipped fingers, but the feeling is electric, electrifying, extraordinary... and I'm moaning... crying out...

Screaming.

I feel my orgasm burst throughout my body, into my chest, my neck, my eyes, until I'm shaking with the force of it. Wave after wave crashes through me, over and over, until finally I collapse, trembling in Seven's arms.

Through it all she still thrusts inside me, rubs against me, and I eventually have to reach between us to grab her hand, stop her. "Please," I beg. "I can't take anymore..." I help draw her fingers out, feeling my walls convulse around them reflexively as they leave.

When I look at Seven she is smiling at me in wonder. "I could feel it," she says. "I could feel your orgasm."

"That makes two of us," I say dryly. Then I lift her hand to my mouth again, kissing my essence from her fingertips. "I love you," I repeat once more, holding her gaze. I can see that she understands now. Then I lean in and kiss her, letting her taste me on my lips. As we kiss I push her backwards, guiding her back down onto the satin dress.

Moments later my lips are trailing down her throat to her breast, suckling on it greedily. I take her Borg hand and lay it flat over her abdomen, splaying out the fingers. Then I move down... I feel Seven's nervous intake of breath, but instead I move to her hand. Kissing it, licking her fingers. Then between her fingers, and around the sides. Lightly grazing her abdomen all the while. My tongue strays, glides across her abdomen, then back to her hand. I do this a few more times, until she's the one who moves her hand away and I'm free to kiss her entire expanse of skin.

"You are so beautiful," I murmur, letting my tongue trace one of the warm silver bands that crosses her belly. And I mean it. She is so exotic, so different. There is no one like her in all the universe. Part human, part machine -- a woman with the mind of a computer and a body that could put a Risan dancing girl to shame.

And she's mine.

Her hips have started a subtle thrusting and I accept their invitation, kissing downwards, then parting her legs so I can settle between them. She is trembling. I kiss one thigh, nip at it gently. Turn my head to the other and do the same. Relax, baby. I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you. I part her outer lips gently with my fingers. She is so wet, so incredibly wet, and not pink at all like I would have expected. Instead she is a dusky red, glistening like the fleshy petals of a rose. I lean in, my mouth hovering over her, gliding over her, but not touching. Letting her feel my breath on her. Then she is raising herself on shaky legs, thrusting up to me and I can't tease her any longer. My tongue darts out and I meet her half way, licking up the shaft of her clitoris. "Oh..." she moans, her voice low.

I lean in closer, touch my lips to her, press into her with my tongue. She is delicious. Slick. And I think tasting her like this is the most intimate thing I've ever done. This is my Seven. This is who she is -- all delicate and complex at the same time. I bring my fingers in, exploring her folds slowly, letting her get used to me. I love the way she feels. I want to be so incredibly tender with her, make in this moment a memory that erases every painful thing she ever felt at the hands of the Borg. I slide my middle finger down, just the one, and as I suck her clitoris gently into my mouth I press into her. There is a slight hesitation, and then I'm all the way in, thrusting inside her. And oh God, she feels wonderful. Her walls are all warm and silken and tight, closing around my finger, welcoming me. I begin to move inside her slowly, pulling out only slightly before thrusting back in, continuing to love her with my lips and tongue.

Her hips are moving against me, and I try to match her rhythm, gaining speed as she does, thrusting harder... faster... Flicking at her with my tongue, slipping my thumb up to gently caress her clitoris. Then rubbing harder and licking, thrusting...

Seven's hand is in my hair, pressing my face down into her. And everything is this warm, slick heat -- in my mouth, in my nose, on my hands. She is moaning constantly, the sounds growing louder as her legs move over my shoulders, then her heels dig into my back and she's crying out, "Oh...oh... Captain!" And I can feel it -- feel her walls convulsing around my finger, sucking on me as she cries out "Captain!" again and again until I think that it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

I feel her climax almost like it's my own, so much so that I'm wet, dripping with excitement, close to coming again myself. I don't want it to end. I press up and into Seven with my finger, chasing after those fading flutters, feeling her orgasm on my fingertip. And beneath it, her pulse. Beating hard, strong. I begin to rub that spot, moving only the end of my finger ever so gently. Above me, I hear Seven's breath catch, then she is quiet, her body still and tensed, anticipating.

I lean into her, lick her once more, the tip of my tongue hard on her flesh. I feel the shudder that rocks her body, see the way her breasts shake with the force of it. Seven's hands are reaching out, clutching at air, finally finding purchase in the grass beside her as my finger rubs harder, deeper, further inside her. Come on, baby, give me one more. I know you've got one more. I press my lips against her again and suck her clitoris into my mouth--

Then I begin to hum.

Seven cries out, her back arching, trying to pull away from me. I follow her, hold onto her, my arm tight around her thigh as I continue sucking, humming around her tender flesh. Listening to her cries as they build synchronously with the vibrations from my mouth. A high keening, then a sudden low, guttural sound is the only warning before I feel a palm on my forehead, and Seven is pushing my mouth away from her, tearing me from her. But I don't mind. Now I can watch. She is leaning so far forward that she's almost sitting up -- her eyes closed, teeth gritting together, neck muscles distended. My finger continues rubbing, moving inside her, until her cries change and it almost sounds like she's sobbing. I lean in and lick her again, and immediately feel the trembling around my finger. Seven's mouth forms a silent "oh" as the convulsing begins -- her walls fluttering, clutching, pulling hard at me...

She releases one more sharp moan so loud it's nearly a shout, then Seven collapses onto her back, her legs falling to the sides like she's too weak to even hold them up. My finger stills, and I wait as the trembling inside her slows, becomes more intermittent, and finally stops. Carefully I withdraw my hand, then I begin to kiss and caress my way back up her body. Up, over soft skin, seeking out the warm silver bands that she had been so nervous about, placing loving kisses along the intricate tracework, every beat of my heart echoing what has suddenly become its new mantra: "I love this woman... I love this woman..." I feel Seven's hand on my head again, softly brushing a few stray strands of hair from my forehead, her touch so gentle, so heartbreakingly tender it almost feels like she's imparting some blessing to me. It makes me think Seven has some sense of what I'm doing, that she understands how I want to bathe these last few remainders of her Borgness in its antithesis -- the very essence of our humanity.

Eventually I crawl all the way up to lay against her side, losing myself in azure eyes as deep, as serene as space itself. I make sure she is watching as I bring my finger to my mouth and lick one side of it, then I offer it to her, arching one eyebrow challengingly. Without hesitation Seven opens her lips and draws my finger completely in, sucking on it, and as I feel her tongue undulate against my skin I smile to myself.

Definitely a quick study.

When she releases my hand, I move to brush away the slight frown that is starting to pull at her brows. "Are you okay?" I murmur.

"I am functioning adequately," she says.

Uh-oh. Back to Borg-speak. Never a good sign. "Then what's with the frown?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

"I am attempting to process contradictory physical sensations."

"Contradictory? How so?"

"There were times when the pleasurable sensations that you created in me became so intense that it was almost painful," she explains.

Oh God. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?" I ask, feeling the guilt well inside me. And I was worried about Chakotay hurting her--

Seven looks at me in surprise. "I did not wish for you to stop. I... quite enjoyed those sensations. In fact, I am trying to calculate how long it will be before I am physically capable of enjoying them again." Then she adds shyly, "If you would be so willing, that is."

I smile in relief. "Oh, I'm willing, alright. You just let me know when. Anytime you want. Today, tomorrow, the day after that. Whenever."

"Acceptable," Seven says softly.

Through the branches swaying above us I can see the light is starting to dim, and there is a distinct coolness to the breeze skittering along my skin. "But we can't stay here much longer," I add regretfully. "The sun is going down, and it will be dark soon. Plus my Mom has got to be wondering what happened to us." Mom! Good Lord, what must she be thinking...? "But I don't want to move just yet," I admit, and lay my head on her shoulder, snuggling into her.

"Then we shall not," she agrees, wrapping her arms around me, holding me close.

If I didn't feel these arms so firmly, this body so solid and warm, I wouldn't believe it. I'd think I was dreaming. Only a few hours ago this was impossible -- I was devastated, my heart in misery thinking Seven was gone forever. Now she's here and I'm left spinning, reeling as I try to convince myself that this really is happening. Wishing I could somehow make this moment last forever. I want to immortalize every detail, every nuance. If only I had Seven's memory--

But I do.

"Seven, I want you to do me a favor."

"Yes, Captain?"

I notice that I suddenly don't mind her using my title. On her lips, it sounds like an endearment. "I want you to record this moment for me, everything about it. So you can describe it to me later and I'll be able to relive it completely. Can you do that?"

"Of course," she says, with just a hint of arrogance. God, I love when she answers me like that.

"Tell me," I request, my hand on her belly, scratching gently. "Tell me what you will remember."

"About this exact moment?"

"Yes."

She pauses, and in my peripheral vision I see her head turn. "I will remember the sound of a bee, buzzing on a flower 20 meters away. I will remember the cries of the sparrows that continuously fly overhead. The rustle of the willow trees' tendrils as they brush the grass. The light, fractured through the tree branches, turning your hair intermittent shades of auburn and gold. The softness of the satin against my back, and the stiff blades of grass that I can still feel through the material. The sensation of your breath blowing across my chest, stimulating my nipple. And the breeze that stirs over us, making me aware that everywhere your body touches mine I am warm."

"That's beautiful," I murmur. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear somewhere inside you beats the heart of a poet."

I sense rather than see her smile. "Now you tell me," she prompts.

I close my eyes, and let myself feel the moment completely. "I will remember the sound of your heart, beating strong under my ear. The amazing silkiness of your skin. How every part of you is so soft I could almost melt into you. I'll remember the taste of you on my lips, and your scent on my fingers. And how being held here in your arms makes me feel incredibly safe and protected. Something I haven't felt in years." I press a kiss into her chest, and whisper, "And I'll remember how my heart is so full of love for you right now that I feel like it might break, and if it did and I died in this moment I wouldn't even mind."

"But I would," Seven says sternly, and squeezes me tighter against her. "I would mind very much. It would mean that you would leave me, and that is no longer allowed."

"Oh, don't you worry," I smile, returning the hug. "I have no intention of leaving you. You're stuck with me now, Seven of Nine."

Nothing else is said for several long minutes as we lay together, wrapped in each others' arms. Until it occurs to me that Mom could easily grow so concerned about our disappearance that she would come looking for us. "We really do have to go," I say regretfully, pulling away from Seven into a sitting position, finding that I miss her warmth immediately.

Seven watches as I unceremoniously stuff my breasts back into my bra, then she reaches over to retrieve my coat and undershirt. "Your pips are missing," she remarks as she hands me my clothes.

"Don't worry about it--" I start, but she is already crawling on all fours looking for them. Watching Seven, I find myself smiling at the absurdity of it all. All the time I spent under this tree as a child, imagining the extravagant adventures I would have when I was older, but I never conceived of anything nearly as fantastical as this. That I would grow up to fall in love with a woman who is an amalgam of nature and technology -- of soft, yielding flesh and warm, living steel. That I would rescue her from an evil Queen several times over, and bring her all the way back from the Delta Quadrant to be my... my what? My girlfriend? My lover?

My lover.

Oh my God, she is so beautiful. Her skin warm and inviting in the half light, dappled in patches of gold by the flickers of sunlight that break through the tree, and streaked in silver by intermittent Borg circuitry. I am fascinated by the motion of her body, undulating like some leopard's as she searches for my missing pips. My eyes follow the enticing slope from her shoulders, down to the two star-shaped implants at the small of her back, then up the sharp incline to the summit of succulent, tempting curves. Here there is no Borg circuitry, only flesh -- soft, downy as a peach. What is the line? 'Vine heavy, ripe with God.' I'm not sure where it's from, but it's perfect -- my mouth is tingling to taste her, the luscious ripe fruit that I would love to kiss, to bite. The shadows I would love to explore with fingertips and tongue...

"Are you not going to get dressed?" Seven asks, looking back at me and smiling when she sees my engrossed expression.

"Oh, uh... yeah." I tug my undershirt over my head, trying to pretend that I haven't just been caught staring. Then I untangle the sleeves of my tunic from my jacket, and quickly pull on the tunic. I'm fastening the collar when Seven finds the last pip and comes to me, holding her hand out so the metallic surfaces glint in her palm. A memory flashes in my mind -- sitting on the desk in my ready room as Seven leans over me, affixing a pip to my uniform, her hands hovering over my right breast.

"Would you... put them on me?" I ask, my voice cracking slightly. It's not that I can't do it myself -- Lord knows, one of the first things you learn as an officer is how to put your pips on blindfolded with one hand bound behind your back. No, this is purely an indulgence -- a chance to fulfill a personal fantasy.

"As you wish." Seven carefully takes the first small pip from her palm and fastens it to my collar, her fingers cool on my skin. And it's almost like my fantasy has come to life -- Seven, completely nude, full breasts pressing against my arm as she carefully places each tiny pip on my dress uniform. Except in my fantasy I was actually wearing my pants, not just using them as a leg warmer.

"Do you remember when I had to reprimand you for doing those 'field studies' on Tom and B'Elannna?" I ask, wondering if she recalls the memory that inspired my imagination.

Apparently Seven knows precisely what I'm talking about, because she smiles and says, "You lost your pip then as well."

"Exactly."

"When you found it, you asked me to put it on for you. Except that it was your red & black dress uniform, so your pips were here," she says, and brushes her hand across my chest, her fingers tantalizingly close to my right breast. She touched me like that back then, her body mere centimeters from mine, with that same little frown of concentration as she made sure the pip was in perfect alignment. Thank God she didn't notice how much I was teasing her then, flirting with her even when I knew I shouldn't.

"And do you remember what I told you?"

"Of course. You suggested that I should perhaps try romance for myself," she replies, adding the fourth and final pip to my collar.

"That's right," I murmur. Wisps of hair are flying into her face, across those full lips, so I lightly brush them away. And I realize this is nothing like my fantasy at all, because even in my dreams I wasn't allowed to touch her. Not like this. Now I can trail my hand down her neck and over her chest, I can even caress her--

"Seven," I say, trying to maintain my train of thought even as my hand cups one voluptuous breast. "You know how I felt when I returned from my negotiations with the Kadi, how dismayed I was to discover that while I was gone you'd taken my advice so literally." I rub the ball of my thumb over her nipple, feeling it pebble against my skin. "And you know that I was somewhat... disturbed... by your unconventional methods of choosing a mate. Having the ship's computer select a potential romantic partner from the entire crew manifest..." I simply shake my head rather than repeat the lecture I gave her then, how science can never quantify the human heart. "But there's something else you don't know. Something that I've always wondered about..." I allow my voice to trail off as I give in to distraction and bend my head to her breast, slowly pulling her nipple into my mouth.

I feel Seven's moan vibrate through her chest. "I did not choose from the entire crew manifest," she murmurs.

"Mm?"

It seems she intuitively understands what I want to know. What I need to know. "There was one name that I eliminated immediately," she says, pausing to cry out as I nip at her with sharp teeth. "As the Captain, I assumed you were... unavailable..." I'm impressed that she continues to try to answer, even though her speech is broken by tiny moans and gasps as I suckle at her breast. "I would never have... presumed... to think you would... want... someone like me... when you could be with any... any other crewmember..."

"Someone like you?" I whisper against her skin.

"A Borg drone."

I hear the shame in her voice. The self-doubt. "Seven, I hope you know..." I kiss along her breastbone, up to the hollows in her leonine neck. "I don't think of you that way... I never have. Even when I first met you on the Borg cube I saw a human being under all that body armor."

"I understand that now," she says, gasping as I find her earlobe and kiss it, suck it between my teeth.

"And if you... had understood it then?" I ask, gently nuzzling the soft skin beneath her ear.

"I would have chosen... differently," she murmurs.

And for now, that's all I need to hear. I press my lips to the star-shaped implant at her jaw, then search out full lips that welcome me, caress me. We lose ourselves in long, open-mouthed kisses, and it's only when I feel goose bumps on her arms that I pull away. I have to remember my girl is a child of space, used to the regulated climate of a starship, not the arbitrary breezes of Indian summer. "We'd better get dressed," I say huskily.

While Seven complies and starts to gather her clothes, I pull on my jacket. Now for the fun part -- putting on my pants. I know good and well that standing on my swollen foot after being horizontal for so long is going to be excruciatingly painful. I glance over at Seven, but she's busy pulling her dress over her head, so I don't bother to ask for help. Instead I crawl over to the trunk of the willow tree and drag myself up to a standing position, biting back a cry as blood floods into my toe in one seemingly endless wave of throbbing pain.

Buck up soldier.

I'm a Starfleet Captain. I should at least be able to put my pants on by myself.

As the pain starts to recede, I grit my teeth and lean down to shove my foot into my pants, but in doing so I get tangled in my underwear. I feel myself losing my balance, and instinctively catch myself by hopping forward -- right onto my sprained toe. "Ow!"

"Captain!" Seven is at my side in a moment. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I mumble, feeling thoroughly embarrassed as I lean back against the tree. "Just having a little trouble getting my pants on."

"Here, let me assist you." Seven kneels in front of me, and I notice that she's completely dressed now, from her high heels to her satin gloves. "You are very swollen," she comments, gently touching my left foot.

Although her attention is on my foot, Seven's face is level with a completely different part of my anatomy. "I am?" I croak.

She looks up at me, noticing immediately which part of my body is closest to her. "You are," Seven murmurs. I feel her gloved hands on my calf, but she makes no move to put my foot in my pants. Instead she lifts my leg up, up and over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" My voice comes out in a squeak as I watch her staring at the flesh that is now revealed.

"I am examining you," she explains, quite matter of factly.

"Examining me, for what--?" Then I am effectively silenced as she leans in... and licks me. "Oh my God..." I grab onto the tree trunk behind me, holding on tight as she reaches up with her satin-covered fingers and parts my outer lips. "Seven..." I think I mean to protest, but she looks up at me with wide eyes, then she licks me again. My voice strangles in my throat as I watch those eyes close and her full mouth disappear from view.

I feel her tongue on me, then her lips, alternately licking, then sucking. First gently, then hard. My leg curls around her shoulder in response, and my hips thrust forward of their own accord, granting her greater access. Another sensation as her hand opens me further, this one of hardness encased in satin as her fingers explore me, push into me. There is some resistance to the material, but my Seven is nothing if not persistent. She pulls her fingers back slightly, swirling the gloved fingertips over my flesh as she continues to lick at me, then she pushes into me again. And again. Repeating the motion until suddenly she is sliding inside, making me moan. I feel so... filled by her. I'm aware of every millimeter inside me, and then her fingers are thrusting, thrusting deeper while her tongue flicks against me, torturing me, loving me--

"Oh God, Seven!" I cry out, the fingers of one hand digging into the tree, the other hand tangling in Seven's hair, holding her head, her mouth to me as my hips writhe against her. A sound, a low humming, building in my throat, building to-- "Oh...God!" I shout. My head lolls backwards as the sudden force of my orgasm shoots up through me like a supernova, paralyzing me with seemingly endless shockwaves of sensations.

It is moments before I can move again, and when I do, I have to tap Seven on the head to get her to stop caressing me. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"

Seven pulls away only far enough so she can speak, her lips glistening. "It is the Borg's new weapon of ultimate destruction," she deadpans. "'Death by orgasm.'"

"Oh, you think you're funny, do you?" I try to sound stern, but my laughter gurgles out involuntarily. I absolutely adore her sense of humor. "Just put my pants on!" I order with a smile.

Seven begins to remove her fingers, then suddenly reverses their motion, slowly thrusting back inside me. "Seven," I gasp, trying to grab her hand. "Please... I really don't think I have another one in me."

"I would like to test that hypothesis." She's smiling up at me, completely unrepentant. "Perhaps later?"

"Perhaps." Seven thrusts into me again. "Yes, yes. Later," I agree, trying to push on her hand, but it doesn't move. Damn, but she's strong. "Please?" I beg.

"I will comply," she says, and removes her fingers completely. "For now," she adds. I'm not sure if it's a promise or a threat, but I have a feeling I'm going to love finding out.

"So, is this going to be how it is from now on?" I ask, as Seven takes my leg from her shoulder and carefully inserts my foot into my pants. "Are you going to treat me like your personal sex toy, available for you whenever you want me?"

"I thought perhaps that I would," she admits with a glint in her eye that can only be described as impish. "Is that not acceptable?"

"Oh, it's acceptable alright. I just wanted to know so I can start adding the proper nutritional supplements to my diet so I can keep up with you."

"May I suggest Nutritional Supplement Number 114," Seven says, standing as she pulls my pants and underwear up over my legs and hips. "It is known for increasing stamina."

I allow her to fasten my pants even though she fumbles a bit with the clasp. "'Stamina,' huh? I'll make a mental note," I say, while straightening my tunic.

"You do that," Seven whispers, then leans into me, pressing me against the tree. I moan at the resultant sensation of a hard and unyielding surface at my back, and soft, pliable curves at my front. Not to mention the sweet lips that Seven now trails up and down my neck.

But over her shoulder I can see that the light is dimming to gray as the sun begins to set. And did I just hear a screen door slam? Mom knows about my secret spot under the willow tree, so she'd probably check here first. She could be coming through the cornfield any minute now. "Seven, I hate to say this, but-"

"I know," she says, and presses her lips to mine in a quick kiss. "'We have to go.'" Seven bends down and helps me into my right boot, then picks up the left one and looks skeptically from it to my swollen foot. "Kathryn, I believe you are going to need a bigger boot."

"What?"

"The circumference of your foot appears to be greater than the diameter of this shoe. I do not think it wise to try and force it to fit."

"I think you could be right." My foot really does look about twice its normal size. "I'll just have to walk with it as is," I say and step forward gingerly, wincing as I put my full weight on it.

"I could carry you," she offers.

"No," I say quickly. "Just give me a hand." I reach out to Seven and place my arm over her shoulder, as she slides an arm around my waist to steady me.

We take a few faltering steps, then I hear her mumble, "It would be much more efficient if you would simply allow me to carry you."

"Maybe. But much less dignified," I smile.

Together we part the willow branches like a curtain and step out into the dusk. We find that the sun has disappeared on the horizon, leaving behind a brilliant tapestry of fuchsia, gold and sapphire to fill the evening sky. All around us the crickets raise their voices in the sun's farewell chorus, and it feels like we're being welcomed into a world where everything is new again.

Where anything is possible.

Part 09