The introduction to this story is by Boadicea, the three alternate endings by Kelly. 

"You're bored with me."

"Of course not. Did I seem bored?"

"Not exactly." She had to smile. They were on the floor of her living area, clothes strewn around them. They rarely made it to the bed. She remembered his request and stopped smiling. "So why do you want something, someone else?"

"I don't want "someone else"; I want you . . . on the holodeck. Your technology fascinates me. Not as much as you do, of course." His fingers trailed lightly down the dip of her waist. He smiled.

"Oh, of course not," she said dryly, but she found herself smiling again. And responding to his touch. She denied him access to most of the ship's systems, strictly limited the time they spent together. The last mostly because, after two months, she felt almost addicted to him. But it was hard to deny him anything in the little time they were together.

"All right, I'll go to the holodeck with you," she said. "I suppose it's going to be your program?"

"Absolutely," he said, his voice becoming muffled as he moved to kiss her neck.

Three days later she entered the holodeck at 20:00 hours. The program was running. She found herself in a house. It was clearly based on something from Earth, perhaps 19^th century, but she thought that it had been altered somewhat. Perhaps there were Devoran touches.

She walked through a hall and into a large room. Kashyk was wearing some rather elegant but comfortable clothing which she hadn't seen before. He handed her a glass of champagne.

"Good evening," he said. She felt herself start as their fingers touched during the transfer of the glass.

"Nice, Kashyk," she said, looking about the room. The ceiling was perhaps five meters high. Tall glass doors overlooked a stone terrace and a lawn. It was early evening in summer, the sky just beginning to darken. "Nice."

"Go upstairs," he said. "You need to change. The room above this one."

She walked up the stairs and entered the room. It also faced out over the lawn. There was a very large bed with white bedclothes. He followed her.

"So you are interested in beds," she said.

"I'll try anything once," he joked. "But get dressed."

A woman in something plain and dark entered from another door. She was carrying a garment, which she lay on the bed. She did Janeway's hair and helped her dress. Kashyk leant against the door frame, watching and sipping champagne.

Janeway was surprised at the gentility of his program.

When the maid was finished, her hair was softly waved and formal and away from her face, and her dress was black velvet. They went downstairs.

He refilled their glasses. The French doors were open; the air was cooling, and smelled of grass and night. She longed to touch him again. Usually they were so impatient; the luxury of this was delightful. But frustrating.

Kashyk moved around the room, turning on the lights. The colors of the room looked warmer. She looked out at the dusky sky. And saw something else-- light glinting on a champagne glass, on blond hair. Someone was standing just outside.

Kashyk stood watching her, half-smiling. Kathryn saw that he expected her to be shocked, or at least surprised. Well, it was time to shake him up at bit. She took a long sip of champagne and kissed him lightly, leaving the taste of wine on his mouth. Then she licked his lips slowly. "Our partner is here," she said. "Aren't you going to invite him in?" 

Kashyk smiled fully and went to the door. 

Into the soft light of the room stepped Seven of Nine.

She was dressed in a gown of gold velvet and satin that matched her hair and the glow of the lamps. The draped bodice left her shoulders bare, and the skirt tumbled to the floor in shimmering waves that were caught up behind her waist in the slightest of bustles. A gold and pearl comb fastened her hair. 

"Good evening, Captain. Kashyk," she nodded. 

Point to you, Kashyk, thought Kathryn. He had surprised her, after all, although she didn't plan to show it. "Seven, you look wonderful," she said. "Like a fairy tale." 

"Thank you, Captain. I hope the dress is appropriate. Kashyk merely said 'formal and old-fashioned.'" 

"It's perfect," said Kashyk. 

Seven continued, "I considered asking the Doctor's opinion, but lately I have been thinking that perhaps I have learned as much as the Doctor can teach on the subject of acceptable social behavior." 

She's nervous, Kathryn realized suddenly, glancing sharply at Kashyk. His program of Seven seemed too thorough. How had he known about her lessons with the Doctor? 

"Will you excuse us for a moment, Seven?" Kathryn asked. "Take a look around; it's a very nice holoprogram." 

She pulled Kashyk through the nearest doorway. "She's not a hologram, is she?" 

"No," he replied easily. 

Kathryn was angry. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing? If you feel the need to fuck two women at once, fine. I'll be one of them. But you're going to have to find a hologram to be the other. You're the one who's so fascinated by the technology. I mean it. I won't have you indulging your fantasies at Seven's expense." 

"Kathryn!" He held her shoulders until her glare faded. "I told you the other night -- I don't want someone else. I don't want Seven. I want you. Only you."

"Then why is Seven here?"

"You want her."

"I don't. . ."

"Yes, you do. You just don't think you should. I know the look, Kathryn, that hungry look. She has it, too. I've seen how her eyes follow you, how her mouth tightens when she sees us together."

Kathryn didn't bother with further denials. "And now what? You've kindly arranged a chance for me to seduce her and then drop her again, so she can feel even worse?" 

"I've arranged dinner. That's all. Just dinner. What -- if anything -- happens after dinner is completely up to you and Seven. Maybe you'll have a long talk. Maybe you'll take each other to bed. Maybe she'll leave, and I'll take you to bed. I don't know. But I want you to have the chance to settle things. For your sake. And hers. And mine."

"I never. . ."

"No," he agreed. "You never suggest that you're not happy with me or that you'd rather be with Seven or anyone else." He held her to him. "I'm not planning on giving you up, Kathryn. I just don't want you to have any regrets."

Kathryn shook her head, half-laughing. "Oh, Kashyk, the Delta Quadrant is all about regrets." She paused, her eyes far away. Finally she said, "All right. Let's have dinner. The three of us." 

Out in the main room, Seven was just coming in from the terrace. "You are correct, Captain," she said. "It is a nice program. Is it like Earth?" 

"A little like Earth, a little like Devore," answered Kashyk. "I've learned that both our planets have their soft places." He continued with deliberate cheerfulness, "I hope you've brought an appetite; I've planned quite an elaborate dinner. I fear I'm going to eating in the mess hall for months." 

In response to his command to the computer, a polished table appeared, set with damask and cut glass and orderly rows of silverware. Three chairs clustered cozily at one end. Candles gleamed in heavy, twisted silver holders, sending light sparkling off glasses already filled with wine and off the jewels in Seven's hair. 

They sat down. Kathryn realized that she had no plans, no sense of where to go from here. As Captain, she always had to be looking ahead, anticipating, assessing, gauging, evaluating. It had been so long since she had not done so that she felt adrift, almost frightened. And free. She waited to see what would happen next. 

Dinner happened. "Elaborate" didn't begin to describe it. Holographic liveried footmen served course after course, each one a visual as well as edible feast. Turtle soup ladled from an ornate tureen, poached fish surrounded by cress and molded aspic, roasted fowl in a rich sauce, game pie with a crust shaped into intricate leaves and vines. Turquoise and magenta Devoran fruits, sharp and bitter and sweet. A pyramid of pastry encased in a spun-sugar cage and dotted with candied violets. Accompanying each course were wines that Kathryn found hard to believe were replicated. 

Kashyk kept the conversation light and flowing. He proved to be quite the raconteur, recounting tales from Devoran myth and history, offering amusing accounts of his attempts to understand the oddities of Earth's culture. 

Seven gradually relaxed, her diction becoming less clipped, her subtle humor surfacing. Several times she smiled spontaneously, and at one point, she even laughed. She seemed different, somehow, Kathryn thought. Then it came to her: Seven wasn't treating the dinner with her usual analytic intensity, as some sort of exercise in ethnography. She was simply enjoying, participating. Living. 

Only once did Kathryn witness the tell-tale tightening of Seven's lips that Kashyk had described. He had leaned over to slip a morsel of meat into Kathryn's mouth, and she had surreptitiously licked his fingers. 

The quick flash of pain that crossed Seven's face made Kathryn suddenly sure that this evening was a mistake. She didn't want to hurt Seven. And she didn't want to let herself think about what it would be like to lick Seven's fingers. Yet she wasn't sure how she could avoid either. 

She thought about rising and ending the party, before they took any irrevocable steps. But when she looked at Kashyk and Seven, at the play of candlelight across their faces, she couldn't seem to remember how to stand up. Didn't care to remember.  

So she sat back and gave herself over to the flavors of the dinner and the pleasures of the company and the exercise of her considerable skill at personal evasion. There were no further intimate moments with Kashyk. 

At last the footmen cleared away the final course and stood waiting. "Coffee?" asked Kashyk, looking at Kathryn. 

Seven spoke up. "Actually, I wondered, Captain. . ." her voice faltered, so uncharacteristically that both Kathryn and Kashyk looked at her in surprise. She continued, more firmly, "I wondered if you'd like to walk in the garden, Captain. And Kashyk, too, of course." 

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't feel able to move," said Kashyk, leaning back in his chair. "In any case, the database says it's customary for a gentleman to remain behind with cigars and port. But please. . .don't let me hinder you." 

Seven went out onto the terrace. Kathryn followed, slowly. At the door, she turned to look back at Kashyk. He smiled, his expression kind, but with a hint of something unnamed. She was sure he understood as fully as she did that, no matter how this evening turned out, it would be hard to avoid regrets. 

She and Seven walked in silence. Outside, away from the house and from Kashyk, Kathryn felt some reality returning. What was she doing? She was a Starfleet captain, for god's sake, and she knew better than anyone the dangers of putting that aside for even one night. She stopped, her hand on Seven's arm. "Seven, I. . ." she began. 

"Captain," interrupted Seven. "I want to go to bed with you." 

Even after two years, Kathryn could still be left breathless by Seven's directness. 

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Seven. I'm your commanding officer. . ." 

"I understand about command, Captain. I did not before, but I do now. You are my captain; that means you cannot always be my friend. That is what you said." 

"Exactly, and I. . ." 

"'Cannot always' means 'can sometimes.' Can sometimes be a captain and a friend. I am not asking for 'always.' What is 'always' is that you will always be the Captain. That is your designation." Seven smiled at the word, her expression slightly impish. "But you can sometimes be more. Here on the holodeck, for instance." 

"No. . ." 

"Yes. When Kashyk asked me to dinner, I nearly declined. I was not certain what he wanted of me, and I. . .I did not wish to see you with him. But then he said it would be a gift to you, a fantasy evening. And I thought, it could happen that way. In the holodeck. In a fantasy. Fantasy has nothing to do with command." 

"Seven. Stop," Kathryn ordered. "It would be wrong, fantasy or not. We are the same people, in or out of the holodeck. Take my word for it; you aren't experienced enough to know. . ." 

Seven's eyes flashed. "Nor will I ever be if you continue to make my choices for me. Stop protecting me." 

Kathryn couldn't stop herself from touching Seven's cheek. "But that's what a captain does. Protects her people." 

"Captains also trust their people. And captains take risks. I do not wish to plead, so I will say nothing more. You know what I want. Now you must make your choice." 

Kathryn closed her eyes and thought about regrets, about things she had not done and had not been and about people she had not protected and about love she had not made. She looked at Seven and held out her hands. 

"A fantasy," she said. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Kashyk watched them walk together up the stairs, hand in hand. They did not look toward him.

His port glowed in the candlelight as he sipped it. He had told Kathryn the truth. He did not feel threatened; he believed she wanted to be with him. But he had taken a chance, he knew. A high-stakes gamble. He could lose her. 

Would he undo the evening, take it back, if he could? 

He listened to their quiet voices and later, to Kathryn's soft moans. 

No, he thought, sipping and listening. No. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The lights in the bedroom had been dimmed. Seven began removing the pearls from her hair. "I should tell you, Captain. I have the knowledge of the collective, but. . .I have never been with anyone before." 

"And I've never been with a woman," replied Kathryn. "Except in fantasy." 

They undressed each other slowly, taking time to explore, to become accustomed to the touch and feel of another woman. After they finally lay down on the bed, Seven continued to stroke Kathryn's body gently. Kathryn stretched on the cool sheets, enjoying the unhurried pace, content, for the moment, to let Seven take the initiative. 

Then Seven eased her onto her side and lay facing her, pressing their breasts together. 

Kathryn gasped with surprise and pleasure. Part of what had always made sex so enjoyable for her was the contrast between softness and hardness, the give of slickness against the sharp, welcome rigidity of penetration. 

She had never imagined the erotic charge of softness against softness, the delicious weight of another woman's naked breasts on her own, nipples touching and hardening together with a hardness so different from what she was used to - so precise, so enticingly female. "Oh, Seven," she whispered, tracing the curve of Seven's breast with her fingertips. 

They kissed tentatively, then fiercely. Almost overwhelmed, Kathryn dropped back, needing to breathe, to contain herself. But then Seven moved her hand between Kathryn's legs, stroking, rubbing, teasing. As much as she loved to feel Kashyk's thickness filling her, Kathryn found that she loved the light suppleness of Seven's darting fingers. She felt suffused by a hot sweetness that gradually sharpened into a focused, explosive flash. 

Seven had raised herself onto her elbow, and Kathryn felt the orgasm even more intensely for knowing that Seven was watching her as she came. 

When at last she could open her eyes, she saw Seven still looking at her, smiling slightly. "I want you to taste me now, Captain," she demanded. Her tone intrigued Kathryn. It was as if she were hearing herself: the commander commanded. 

"Please, taste me," Seven said again. Kathryn laughed softly. "That is the theme for this evening, isn't it?" she answered. 

Moving between Seven's legs, she touched her gently with her tongue, neither of them quite knowing what to expect. The uncertainty of it excited Kathryn, making her feel both protective and dangerous at once. Using Seven's gasps as a guide to what she wanted, Kathryn gradually increased her tempo and her confidence, until Seven was rocking rhythmically, crying out quietly.  

When she seemed close to the edge, Kathryn moved back and began to stroke with her fingers. She wanted to watch Seven now, wanted to see her as she experienced this basic human sensation for the first time at hands other than her own. Kathryn knew she couldn't feel Seven's mind, but she could read her face, as Seven had read hers. They would be a collective of two. 

Seven's lips parted and her eyes closed as her hips rose from the bed. "Captain!" she cried, and the word seemed to Kathryn the most beautiful of endearments. 

They lay silently together for several minutes. Then Seven began to kiss Kathryn's face lightly. It was not a sexual gesture; she seemed rather to want only to imprint herself, to leave something behind. Too soon she said, "Captain. I know that after tonight we will not be on the holodeck. But it has been enough. This fantasy." 

She got up. Kathryn listened as she slipped into her dress, walked down the steps, bid Kashyk a calm goodbye. 

It was enough, Kathryn thought. Her regrets would at least be for something done rather than something not done. But at the moment, she felt only closure and contentment and a growing desire to be with Kashyk. She put on the dress he fancied and prepared to go downstairs. 

Yes. It was enough. But perhaps it would not be all. 

Because 'cannot always' meant 'can sometimes.'