Part 18 - 20

Blonde/Redhead

San Francisco International Airport was in the throes of a decades long construction project. Locals knew that no sooner would one portion of the project be finished than a whole new section of detours and orange cones would go up. With the increased security Kim didn't want to chance leaving her Subaru in the parking garage, so she had called a cab and she and Kathryn were soon in the back seat of a big yellow taxi headed for the airport.

"You sure you want to come along?" Kathryn asked.

Sure? Kim wasn't sure about a damn thing, least of all a traveling companion who had leveled a phaser blast at her and then apparently repaired the damage. She was still out one knit polo shirt. In any event she wasn't about to let Kerry face Kathryn alone. Even without a phaser in hand, the captain was formidable.

"After Annie worked her butt off to get these two seats I can't chicken out now," Kim joked.

Her travel agent had been a godsend. Very cute and despite being very pregnant, Annie had managed to call in enough favors to wrangle them two seats on a late afternoon flight to the Midwest.

The cab took a sudden right turn, throwing the captain across Kim's chest.

"Oomph, sorry..." Kathryn's apology came muffled by the two soft mounds her nose was buried between.

"It's okay," Kim replied, shuddering involuntarily at the unexpected contact.

Kathryn pulled away, feeling flustered herself. She hadn't wanted Kim along on the trip to Chicago but the blonde had insisted upon it, no ifs ands or buts. And the plan she'd concocted made the psychiatrist's presence a necessity.

Not a moment too soon for either woman, the cab pulled up at the United Air terminal. Kim swung her long legs out of the taxi and reached for her suitcase, letting Kathryn tote the small carryon and briefcase. All the clothes in the suitcase belonged to Kim who'd packed in a rush, throwing stuff on the bed that Kathryn had meticulously folded. A byproduct of her Navy training.

"You ready?" Kim asked.

"Let's do it."

The line of passengers waiting to check in snaked out the door. The two women joined the crowd, standing behind a family headed for Disney World. Eventually a ticket agent waved the two women to his stand.

"Hey, howzit, sistah. You live on Kaiulani Avenue?" the agent, a beaming tanned Polynesian guy asked Kathryn, as he checked her Hawaiian driver's license.

"Er, yes," Kathryn replied.

"I lived behind the Princess Kaiulani Hotel before I got this job. Must be hard, yeah, with the traffic nowadays?" He checked in the suitcase and stapled the claim check to her ticket folder.

"Yes."

"Okay...two to the Windy City. Flight in two hours. Board an hour before. Gate 40. Aloha ka ko."

"Mahalo."

Kathryn glanced over at Kim who had an eyebrow arched.

"Where did you learn Hawaiian from?" Kim demanded when they were out of earshot of the agent.

"Crash course from the guy who sold me the IDs," Kathryn said.

At least they had made it through the first layer of security. They headed down the concourse to the next security check point. This was where it got more dangerous. Kathryn had agreed to leave the phaser at Kim's, but she'd balked at leaving the hypospray, bone knitter, dermal regenerator or tricorder behind. That had led to some imaginative planning by Kim.

"You might want to look less alert," Kim murmured as they joined another long line of passengers headed through security screening.

Kathryn nodded. She had once attended a monastery on Vulcan where she had been schooled in the art of meditation. This called for her to focus and imagine herself elsewhere. She imagined herself back on Voyager, headed home.

Kim placed her purse and carryon on the security counter and handed the briefcase to the security agent manning the walk through.

"What's this?" the man asked, opening the briefcase.

"Medical instruments and supplies."

"What kind of instruments and supplies?"

"High tech skin grafter, asthma medicine and multilevel diagnostic tool." Kim handed him a list. "I'm on the staff of San Francisco General. I'm escorting this patient to Chicago." She showed her hospital ID and credentials to the man.

The guard picked up the hypospray. Kathryn struggled not to give in to her urge to snatch it away as he handled it.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Bipolar depression. She's sedated. She won't be any problem on board the plane."

"Okay, Dr. Legaspi. You and your patient can pass through."

"Thanks."

Kim took the briefcase and grabbed her purse and the carryon off the line.

"That was smooth," Kathryn complimented as a businessman late for a plane home nearly knocked them over. "You sure you've never done this before?" She took the briefcase from Kim, wanting to keep possession of her 24th century gadgets.

"Escort a depressed patient on board a plane? Sure, I do it all the time." Kim smirked.

Was everyone traveling this Friday afternoon or did it only seem that way? The lobby was teeming with shops and passengers. Some things never changed, Kathryn thought. A transport hub of any kind brought merchants with goods to peddle and customers willing to by. This could be the Promenade on DS9. There was a candy store and even a shop selling genuine San Franciscan sour dough bread, a bookstore...

"Wait a second." Kathryn halted suddenly.

"What?"

"I want to get something to read."

**She reads?** Kim wondered as she followed the captain into the small book store. She wandered into the suspense and mystery section and picked up the latest Patricia Cornwall, hoping it was better than the last one that had too much Scarpetta and not enough of her cute lesbian niece. She sidestepped yet another businessman buying the Bourne Identity and picked up a copy of the National Enquirer to read on the plane. The scandal sheet was her secret vice. To her surprise Kathryn was browsing in the romance section. She would have pegged the redhead as a true adventure type.

Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. Kathryn stood, carefully turning the pages of a paperback edition of the classic gothic novel. A rush of adrenaline filled her at the idea that she could actually purchase a 20th century edition. One of her indulgences aboard Voyager during her first few years was the holoprogram based on a gothic novel. She hadn't run the program in a long time, though in her quarters she would read the holonovels available. But to actually hold a copy of Bronte's masterpiece.

She had read the novel when she was a Starfleet cadet and that had started her on her love of hologothics. Perusing the stacks further, she gave a cry of delight and pulled out another treasure: Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. She had heard about the novel but had never read it before.

"You go for gothic novels?" Kim asked when they met up at the cashier.

Kathryn lifted her chin. "Yes." Wanna make something about it?

"To each her own," Kim said, reading the challenge in the blue eyes.

The psychiatrist was stocking up on reading matter of her own as well as candy, gum, and a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. The captain wondered what that would taste like as she picked up the thick novel Kim was purchasing.

"Patricia Cornwall. She's an amazing suspense writer," the salesclerk said.

Amazing maybe, but in the 24th the woman was history.

Kerry struggled to put the salmon platter in the oven.

"May I assist you, Kerry?"

"I got it. I got it," Weaver replied, swinging the heavy ceramic dish down from the counter and toward the open oven door. The move triggered an involuntary spasm in her hip, and she nearly dropped the platter. Before it could smash to smithereens Seven caught the dish with her left hand and placed it on the oven rack, simultaneously keeping her right arm wrapped around Kerry's waist to hold her upright. She nudged the oven door shut with her hip.

"You are damaged."

Kerry did not speak. She closed her eyes and waited for a few moments as the wave of pain eventually dispersed. "I'm okay. It's just a bruised hip."

Seven's blue eyes gazed contritely down at the green ones.

"I am sorry for damaging you, but I had to speak to the captain."

"It's all right. You just don't know your own strength."

"I do know my strength." And usually she could control it. Since she hadn't, that meant her efficiency levels were declining more rapidly than the Borg had originally projected.

"So you had a good talk with your captain?"

"Yes," Seven said with that small half smile that made Kerry wonder if the good captain knew just how smitten Seven was.

"I suppose your ship is here and she can take you back to the 24th century?"

"No," Seven started to say before remembering the captain's strict orders to impose Code Indigo.

Code Indigo was a Voyager tactical command sequence implemented when crew members were under attack or separated. They were to communicate only with each other about their situation, and not involve others.

Seven didn't know how she was to obey this command since Nielsen would need to communicate with her this evening.

"No? What did she have to say?" Kerry asked, curious.

"Nothing of consequence."

"Really?"

Seven looked down at her hands, not wishing to lie to the other woman.

The door bell rang.

"That will be Professor Nielsen," Kerry said. "You want to get the door?"

"More salmon, Harry?" Kerry asked an hour later when the three of them were seated in her small dining room.

"No, thanks. I'm stuffed full," the professor said, resisting the urge to unnotch his leather belt. Since his meals were pick up mostly, it was a rare treat to have a home cooked meal. "Baked salmon, brown rice, and a Caesar salad. You're quite the cook, Kerry."

"Indeed," Seven agreed.

"Thanks."

Harry Nielsen was not a man of great sensitivity, but he knew something was different between the two women. This morning when they had descended upon him at Evanston they had been casually argumentative. Nothing like this cool careful wall of politeness they had erected. What had happened to set them off?

He glanced over at the Borg, who was pushing the food around her plate with a fork and showing no inclination to eat much of it. She seemed less energetic than she had this morning and when she gazed over at Kerry there was an expression of remorse in the azure eyes.

The redhead rose from the table, wincing as she walked. Her movement sparked a corresponding rise from the blonde.

"How may I assist you, Kerry?"

"It's nothing. Just sit down and enjoy your meal. I'll just get the dessert. Do you want the caramel brownies or strawberry shortcake?" she asked Nielsen, who wondered if it would be greedy to say both.

"Perhaps a little of each?" he asked.

Kerry smiled. "Sure thing. I've made plenty."

She walked into the kitchen, leaving behind her two guests, one of whom pushed away her plate with a sigh.

"The salmon really is delicious," Harry said, trying to coax Seven into eating.

"I am not hungry."

"But since you cannot regenerate you will need the nutritional supplements," he reminded her.

He was not surprised when she picked up her fork and shoveled the food into her mouth, chewing and then swallowing.

"Not that it's any of my business but did you and Kerry fight or something?"

She put her fork down. "You are correct on both accounts."

"Both?"

"It is not your business and a struggle ensued over a phone call. I pushed Kerry aside and her leg was damaged."

"Must've been an important phone call."

"It was the captain."

"Then you needed to speak to her."

"Yes," Seven said, feeling glad that someone understood her need to communicate with the captain. However the emotion faded almost at once. "Nonetheless I damaged Kerry's leg."

"I think her leg was damaged a long time ago," the professor said gently.

"You may be correct. However, she feels the pain more keenly than she did earlier in the day."

"Anyone take a look at it?"

"She will not allow me to examine it. She insists stubbornly that she is the doctor and knows how to treat herself." She did not add the more worrisome notion that Weaver seemed to flinch every time the Borg came near as though afraid of what she might do.

"Maybe I can have a look at it."

"Look at what?" Kerry asked, coming in with the plate of brownies.

"Seven mentioned that you may have hurt your injured leg."

Weaver glared at the blonde. "She is in error. It's fine."

"It is not. You are walking 5 kilometers per hour less efficiently and wince with pain approximately 88% of the time."

"It always acts up in the evening." Kerry turned. "I'll go and get the strawberry shortcake."

"I will carry it in for you," Seven said and stood, broking no argument.

Weaver shrugged. "Suit yourself." The two women went into the kitchen. "Bring the dessert plates down too while you're at it."

The Borg complied, bringing down three small white plates. Having a tall girlfriend had some advantages, Weaver thought. **Whoa, baby.** Seven was not standard girlfriend material. Do not go there.

After Kerry sliced the strawberry shortcake, Seven carried the dessert plates in to the dining table.

"This is sensational," the professor said, as he dug into the strawberry shortcake. "Reminds me of the one my mother used to make."

"Thanks." Kerry was pleased the shortcake had turned out so well. Seven however was not eating much. The blonde generally found the little red fruit irresistible. Weaver noticed her face seemed paler than ever.

"Seven, you okay?" she asked.

"I am operating at 60% efficiency."

"Sixty percent? That can't be good," Kerry said, getting up and finding her medical bag in her closet.

"She was tiring earlier this evening before dinner when we reviewed the newest data," Nielsen said.

"She was?" Kerry was alarmed. What had Seven told her? Borg do not tire. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I figured the dinner break would bring her back up to speed."

"My fatigue is irrelevant," Seven said as Weaver pulled out her stethoscope. "It is not unexpected that I should tire at 60% efficiency."

"Perhaps you should rest," professor said.

"If I rest we will never fix the time travel differential."

"Let me just listen to your heart, Seven."

The blonde shook her head. In her weakened state she was finding the harsh metallic instruments reminiscent of her years as a Borg drone when limbs were severed and drones dismantled all around her.

"You may take my pulse with your hand," she said, holding out her right hand imperiously.

Glad to get any cooperation from the recalcitrant woman, Weaver took Seven's hand and felt for the pulse in the wrist. Seven felt a slight tingle as Kerry's fingers touched her skin. It was gentle and comforting, and she was sorry when Kerry put her hand down.

"Your heart rate is even slower than it was last night in the ER," she said.

"My nanoprobes are slowing my systems so I do not tax my energy reserves and prevent my implants from depolarizing further. My circulatory and respiratory systems will adapt."

"I should take you to the ER."

"No! I need to continue working on the problem with Professor Nielsen," Seven said.

"If you're tiring you won't be much good."

"I will be more efficient now than I will be in an hour or two," the Borg countered. "Besides the captain told me she would be arriving soon."

"She did?"

"She is coming here and will be able to assist me."

"I hope you're right," Kerry said.

Airline food was similar to replicated food, but Kathryn wasn't complaining. It beat Neelix's leola root stew. Kathryn passed her empty tray to Kim who passed it to the salesman on the aisle and the flight attendant. She had never flown in such a large and slow aircraft before. She was wedged in the window seat, while poor Kim, all six feet of her, sat in the middle, flanked by a handsome salesman who seemed charming in a narcissistic way. Like a much older Tom Paris with none of the helmsman's boyishness.

"And what about you two ladies?" the salesman asked with unctuous ease. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a psychiatrist." Kim flipped through her National Enquirer. Its lurid headline full of a 21st century child abduction.

"Really? I'd like to be on the couch with you."

Kathryn rolled her eyes then remembered she was supposed to be sedated and gazed out the window. Unlike on Voyager where the stars streaked by even when the ship was at impulse power there was nothing to see. The engines were also noisier than Voyager's impulse drive.

"And your friend?" the man asked, darting a look at Kathryn who was leaning her head against the window.

"She's my patient, actually. I'm escorting her to Chicago."

"Patient? You mean cuckoo?"

"We don't use such terms with our patients," Kim said, aghast. Who was this jerk?

"Yeah?" He leaned over Kim to stare at Kathryn who turned and glared back at him. Her Level 10 Look did very nicely at quelling First Officers and Security Chiefs who disagreed with her. It did an equally fine job with the salesman who went looking for an empty seat to transfer to.

"You're supposed to be sedated," Kim murmured, holding up the tabloid to hide her laughter.

"I am sedate."

Kim snorted. "You could never be called that, Kathryn. Never in a million years."

The captain felt inordinately pleased by the compliment. "I got rid of him, didn't I?"

"Yes, thank you."

Kathryn stared out the window for a few minutes, wishing this aircraft could go faster. The blonde continued to flip through the pages of her tabloid, curious reading material for a psychiatrist. Then again Kim Legaspi was probably no ordinary psychiatrist.

Surreptitiously, the captain studied the blonde's profile, her aquiline nose, generous mouth, high cheek-bones. For a moment she wondered where the starburst implant on the right cheek had gone to. Then she abruptly shook off that thought.

"Why are you coming along on this trip, Kim?" Janeway asked.

Kim flashed a quick smile at her companion. "Got homesick for the Windy City."

"At this time of year I suspect it would be more like Humid City."

The blonde looked up from a celebrity marriage scandal. "Sounds like somebody spent a summer in the Midwest."

"I grew up in Bloomington Indiana."

"Farm girl?"

Kathryn nodded. "Nothing but corn fields as far as the eye can see." One of the advantages of living on an agricultural park in a Traditionalist community.

"And you joined the Navy to see the world?"

See the galaxy was more like it. "Something like that. You're very good, you know."

Kim lowered her newspaper. "Excuse me?"

"At not answering my question," the redhead qualified.

"Which one?"

"About why you're tagging along to Chicago."

"I thought I had answered it." Kim folded up her paper and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of her. She pulled the small blanket over her shoulders. Might as well get some sleep. She hadn't slept last night.

"What's your friend Kerry Weaver like?"

Kim wondered if she could put the arm rest up on the seat. Would the salesman return or was he gone for the duration of the flight?

"She's an emergency room doctor."

"Which means she's quick to size up a situation and take charge."

"That's Kerry all right."

"What else can you tell me about her?"

"She's short, about your height. Reddish hair."

Kathryn was taken aback. "Like mine?

"Sort of. Green eyes."

Not blue. That's something anyway. Odd to find out that she shared some physical traits with Kim's ex-lover.

"Why all the interest in Kerry?"

"Seven is with her at the moment."

Kim sat up straighter in the seat. "You're concerned about your friend's safety?"

"Not her safety exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

"Seven is different from most people. She's rather innocent for a woman in her mid-twenties."

"You're afraid Kerry might seduce her?"

Kathryn was silent. "That's insulting to Kerry and to lesbians in general."

"Kim, most men and women would lure Seven to their bed in a heartbeat."

"Would you?"

The captain opened her mouth then shut it, stunned by the question.

"No, I would not."

"Because women don't attract you?"

Kathryn met two skeptical blue eyes. After the kiss they had shared the shrink knew damn well that gender issues were not a problem.

"No. Seven is under my chain of command. To engage in a relationship with one of my crew would be inappropriate."

"And Kerry making a move on Seven would be just as inappropriate. She won't. I guarantee that. Even when we were together I usually had to make the first move."

"Slow learner, your Kerry?"

**My Kerry.** Kim felt jolted by that thought and started to get pissed at Kathryn.

"You know something? My relationship with Kerry is none of your business."

"I didn't mean to strike a nerve. Obviously you two were involved and you still harbor feelings for her."

Kim blinked. "Just because you read my letter from her without my permission doesn't give you any right to talk about my feelings or Kerry's." God knew what would happen if Kerry found out Kathryn had read her letter. Tear her from limb to limb probably. But before or after she tore Kim apart?

"I'm not talking about the letter."

"Oh no?"

"You took a phaser blast to protect her. She has to be special."

"She is."

"So tell me. What is she really like?"

Kim thrust a hand into her pants pocket and pulled out a strawberry Tootsie Pop. She handed it to Kathryn. "That's Kerry Weaver."

Kathryn frowned. The item in her hands was some sort of candy on a stick.

"She's a Tootsie Pop. Hard on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside."

"So why did you break up?"

"It's a long story."

"It's a four hour flight. We have two and a half hours left."

And here she'd thought she'd get some sleep.

"If I tell you about Kerry Weaver, you have to tell me about Seven and you."

The captain frowned. "Seven and I? There is no Seven and I."

Kim smirked. "Save that for someone who's not a shrink."
 

REDHEAD/BLONDE

"So these tachyon emissions are a sign that a temporal disturbance is occurring?" Harry Nielsen asked with a frown that made the wrinkles in his double chin more pronounced.

"Yes. Every instance of temporal disturbance in the Federation databases that I have assessed indicate that tachyon emissions accompany the disturbance," Seven replied. The two of them were in Kerry's study with the Borg trying to give the professor a crash course in time travel basics.

"How many temporal disturbances are we talking here?" Nielsen spun around in the computer chair to look at the blonde standing behind him.

"Three hundred and forty-seven confirmed. There have been others that were unconfirmed."

"Like UFO sightings back in the 1960s," Nielsen said, rubbing his forehead and the brown forelock. Three hundred and forty seven temporal disturbances. This was awesome news and to think he had this stranger to thank. Until she had knocked on his door this morning he had begun to doubt his life's work. Now he knew what it could lead to.

"And what gives out tachyon emissions?" he wondered aloud.

Seven's left deltoid ached. This was significant because her nanoprobes usually repaired minor aches and pains effortlessly. She rubbed the muscle now and forced herself to concentrate on Nielsen's question. "Sometimes they occur when there is a nebula. Sometimes a photon torpedo can generate it."

"Photon torpedo? Whew. The Air Force would love to get their hands on you," he joked.

Seven's blue eyes glittered as she stared at the professor blithely sipping his coffee. "I am sure that the Air Force and other military organizations of this century wish to get their hands on the information I can provide. They would probably even be willing to dissect my brain to find the information!"

Her harsh words took Nielsen by surprise. "I'm sure they wouldn't do any such thing."

"Your opinion is irrelevant."

"Maybe we need to take a break." He put down his coffee mug, got up from the chair and stretched. It was after ten o'clock and they had been working non-stop on the problem. Kerry was curled up on the living room sofa, reading her medical journals.

"Unacceptable. We must continue working."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Seven, really..."

Those were the only words he got out as she lifted him in the air by his neck.

"Seven!! Let go!!"

Kerry threw down her AMA Journal and got to her feet as soon as she heard Nielsen's yelling. She hurried to the study and found the professor dangling off the floor as the Borg held him with her left hand.

"Seven, stop that!" Kerry ordered.

The blonde turned, her optical implant making out the compact auburn-haired woman coming closer. Her cortical node was not operating efficiently and for a moment she thought that the woman was the captain. But why was she using an ambulatory device.

"Seven, put him down!" Kerry shouted.

The tone of command came through loud and clear and Seven complied.

"Harry, are you all right?" Weaver asked, looking him over quickly.

"Yeah." He swallowed and rubbed his neck.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. She just went off all of a sudden," he said. "I'm okay, Doc. Just check her out."

Kerry eyed the blonde who seemed to be swaying from the effort she had just exerted.

"Seven, what's your efficiency level now?"

The Borg stared blankly in her direction. "You are not the captain."

"No. I'm your friend Kerry. You're staying with me until the captain arrives."

The confusion in the pale face cleared as Seven blinked then nodded. "Yes. I remember now."

"What is your efficiency level?" Kerry repeated quietly.

"I am operating at 57% efficiency," came the reply.

"I think you need rest. Come with me."

Seven tried to follow, and she seemed to trip over her own feet. Nielsen quickly stepped to her left while Kerry took her right. Each of them looped an arm around their shoulder.

"Where to, Doc?" Nielsen asked.

Kerry didn't hesitate. "Can you help me get her upstairs?"

"Sure thing."

Due to the weight of Seven's Borg-enhanced limbs, walking her to the stairs was a major effort. No way could they lead her up the stairs three abreast. And if Nielsen took the lead and Kerry brought up the rear the danger lurked of the heavier Seven falling back and either crushing Kerry or causing her to fall down the stairs.

"I have an idea." Nielsen stepped in front and pulled Seven's arms around his neck. "Hang on tight, Seven."

Kerry waited down below out of harm's way while slowly the professor piggybacked the Borg up the flight of stairs. Midway up he stopped to adjust her weight on his back and catch his breath. Weaver had to bite her tongue not to scream at him to keep going. Harry was stronger than he looked and finally made it to the second floor where he propped Seven up against the wall on her feet. Kerry crutched up after them and once again slung Seven's arm around her shoulder.

"You okay, Harry?"

He nodded, still breathing hard. "Where to?"

"My bedroom," Kerry said. It was closer and her bed was bigger and more comfortable. Gingerly they helped the young woman to a sitting position on the bed. Kerry picked up Seven's wrist and checked her pulse. It had slowed even more than earlier in the evening. She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around the blonde's upper arm and listened through her stethoscope. The reading was alarmingly low.

What was going on?

"My nanoprobes are instructing my less essential systems to shut down," Seven explained, correctly reading the distress on Weaver's face. "My implants are depolarizing." Her words came through chattering teeth.

Great. Depolarizing implants. First things first. "Harry, in the guest room you'll find a brown unitard on the bed. Bring it here."

Nielsen dashed off and returned with the biometric suit.

"Thanks, I'll change her into this," Kerry said.

"I'll be in the study reviewing the information Seven gave me." He turned away.

"Harry? I may need help with her if...." Weaver didn't want to finish the sentence.

Nielsen's troubled eyes met hers.

"I could stay the night on your couch," he suggested.

"Sure. No problem," Kerry said gratefully. "She claims her captain will be coming here. Like everything she says I don't know if it's true or not, but keep an ear out?"

"Right. I'll be downstairs. Holler if you need me."

Alone with Seven, Kerry helped her change. The Borg was able to unzip her jeans and Kerry pulled them down. Then she unbuttoned the blue shirt and slipped it off Seven's shoulders, her fingers lightly brushing against the metallic implant on the blonde's biceps. It seemed cold to her touch. Last night the abdominal implant had felt warmer. Was this part of the depolarization?

"Let's get you into this..." She kept talking, the way she might to distract a pediatrics patient, as she helped Seven step into the brown unitard. Slowly, she drew the long arms into the sleeves. She found the fastening at the neck and cinched the garment then she drew back the sheet and patchwork quilt on her bed.

"There you go. Lie down now, Seven."

Never at ease lying down, the Borg felt even more awkward than usual as she shifted to a supine position. Kerry tucked the covers over her shoulders.

"Don't leave me," the young woman said, grasping Kerry's hand. She did not want to be alone.

"I'll be right here." Kerry assured her, squeezing her hand. She sat down on one of her pillows, her back against the headboard. Her other hand lightly stroked the blonde head resting nearby.

The sensation of the fingers in her hair was soothing and Seven recalled when she had stroked Kerry's hair this morning. Sighing, she snuggled closer.

"Do you feel any warmer now in your biometric suit?" Kerry asked after she noticed Seven's breathing seemed more relaxed.

The blonde nodded. "Naomi Wildman's mother does this." She spoke slowly, relieved that it did not take much effort for her vocalization. She gave a command to her cortical node to keep auditory and optical systems going at minimum levels.

"Does what?" Kerry asked.

"Stroke Naomi Wildman's hair. She has very pretty hair. I believe they call it strawberry blonde."

"Reddish blonde. That is pretty," Kerry agreed.

"You have red hair like the captain."

"Janeway's a redhead too?"

"Yes. She is of your height and approximate weight as well. However her eyes are blue. They change to gray when she is displeased."

"Do they turn color a lot?" Weaver asked, digesting the curious fact that she was similar in size and appearance to Seven's captain.

"Sometimes we argue when I point out flaws in her commands. She becomes angry."

"No wonder." Kerry didn't like her ER decisions second guessed either.

Because her mind was not busy analyzing data or her body busy trying to walk or move, Seven was able to conserve her remaining energy. It was not unpleasant to be speaking to Kerry in this fashion.

"I believe the captain feels guilty because Voyager is stranded in the Delta Quadrant because of a decision she made years ago. The captain becomes depressed at times over the situation. I do not like seeing her so sad."

"The captain is lucky to have you for a friend," Kerry said, realizing that Seven had shifted off her pillow and her head was now resting on Weaver's thigh.

It felt so natural to glide her fingers through Seven's golden tresses, her nails lightly scratching and massaging the other woman's scalp.

"I like this. It comforts me," Seven murmured.

Kerry glanced down into the narrow face adorned with the metallic implants that did not detract from her beauty but instead highlighted her features. Were all Borg as beautiful as Seven?

"I'm glad. Maybe you shouldn't be talking. You need to conserve your energy so your implants don't depolarize further."

"I disperse only minimum energy talking," Seven protested.

"Try and sleep."

"I cannot comply. Borg do not sleep." Seven did not voice what she really feared. If she slept, she might not wake up.

"Well then, just close your eyes and rest."

"If I close my eyes I will not be able to look at you."

Startled, Kerry laughed. "You won't be missing much."

"On the contrary, I enjoy looking at you. I find you aesthetically pleasing."

Weaver had not been on the receiving end of many compliments in her life and this was certainly the oddest, and yet she couldn't help feeling pleased.

"Thank you."

"I will refrain from talking now. I will listen while you speak."

"What shall I speak about?" Kerry asked, puzzled by the request.

"Love."

"Love? Good heavens, why?"

The azure blue eyes seemed almost shy. "I am curious about this emotion. I have tried to talk to people on Voyager about it, however my attempts have been inadequate. Perhaps you could explain more about it."

"I'm hardly an expert on love." Quite the reverse.

"You have been in love?"

Kerry nodded.

"Then tell me about that experience. Your relationship with your friend Kim would be sufficient."

"That's over and done with."

"Then you should be willing to talk about it now," the young woman pointed out with unfailing logic.

Kerry had not talked about Kim to anyone except for a few moments with Luka last year in the ambulance bay. Who knows, maybe it would be therapeutic to talk to someone, a virtual stranger who didn't even know what love was. Just where to begin?

She re-arranged herself on the bed, sliding down to lie side by side with Seven and stared up at the ceiling. Well, they were in bed so why not a bedtime story.

"Once upon a time there was a redhead who was very absorbed in her work. She would work 16 to 20 hours a day, six days a week and sometimes more. She was very successful but she sometimes felt lonely. Then one day a tall aesthetically pleasing blonde woman marched into her department. Her name was Kim."

Tall and blonde? Seven arched her optical implant. However, she had promised to listen and refrain from speaking so for once she complied.

Kim was pissed because one of her outpatient clients had come to the ER with a black eye. Malucci had taken care of the black eye but hadn't known the patient had been there before.

"He gave a phony name to admitting, so we had no way of knowing he had priors with psych," Kerry explained in the lounge where she was examining the dregs of the coffee pot. She wasn't thrilled to defend Malucci's work; he was too sloppy in his doctoring, but she didn't like outsiders coming in to her department with eyes blazing and shooting from the lip. Even if her lips were a luscious coral pink.

"Mr. Finnegan has a habit of giving out aliases," Kim said, clutching her clipboard to her chest. "He's schizophrenic. Anyone treating him would have seen that in a heartbeat. Maybe your Dr. Malucci could use another rotation in psych."

"You offering?" Kerry asked. "I accept." It would get the resident out of her hair.

Kim laughed, and the tension in the room eased.

"Look, I'm gonna take a lunch break soon. Want to discuss this over at Magoo's?" Kerry asked hesitantly. She had gotten used to eating alone over the years at work, especially since Jeannie had left, but there was something about this woman she found rather appealing.

"Sorry, I'm late for a group therapy appointment."

"Sure. No problem." Story of her life. She started to turn away when Kim's fingers lightly brushed her shoulder blade.

"I'd love a rain check."

Kerry's uncertainty slipped away. "You would?"

"Yeah. I'm really glad to finally meet you, Kerry Weaver. I've heard a lot about you." Kim blinked once and then again.

"All of it bad, I'm sure."

"Nah...just half of it." Kim blinked a third time and then smiled. Her whole face lit up.

"Thanks, I think. You're...?"

"Kim Legaspi. Call me Kim."

During the following weeks, they encountered one another usually in the halls of the ER or in the cafeteria, and once in the elevator. Gregarious and gorgeous, Kim answered the psych consults from the ER promptly, for which Kerry was grateful.

Then came the seminar in advanced neuroleptic therapy. Kim had saved her a seat. Wedged in together in the crowded row, Kerry had been acutely conscious of the blonde's tendency to lean in with her body, elbows, hands, legs, hair, all invading Kerry's personal space. For some reason she didn't mind and leaned in herself when Kim made a whispered comment about the speaker.

"So we became friends," she said, smiling at the memory and at Seven. Two blue eyes stared intently back at her. "We went to movies together, plays, concerts. Finally one evening at dinner, Thanksgiving dinner, I realized that Kim thought of me as a date not just a friend."

Seven recalled her own unfortunate date with Lt. Chapman that had left the lieutenant with a damaged shoulder after she had attempted to dance with him. Dating it would seem was fraught with hazards.

"Dating was unacceptable to you?" she asked, despite her best efforts to remain silent.

"I never really considered dating a woman up to then."

"The EMH did not include women when he gave me instructions on dating," Seven volunteered sympathetically. "However, I have learned from others that it is acceptable for women to date women."

"I suppose. Except I really didn't know that Kim was interested in a romantic connection. I wasn't. Or at least I wasn't then."

"Explain."

"I can't. I was feeling contradictory things. My emotions were difficult to sort out. I would be elated one moment, scared the next. After Thanksgiving I called to see how she was but her answering machine was broken. Then for Christmas I gave her a present, a first edition of a book she wanted. That's when she told me she didn't want to get more involved with me. I protested and she kissed me."

A kiss. When two persons press their lips together and exchange sensory data via their tongue and mouths, often leading to a state of heightened sexual arousal. Seven inched closer to Kerry.

"Clarify. Kim did not want any further involvement and yet she kissed you. That is contradictory behavior."

"You're telling me."

"I believe I just did."

Kerry smiled. "She kissed me to show me that she wanted more from me than simple friendship." And what a kiss it had been. Kerry shivered at the memory of Kim's soft lips pressing against hers and the warm intrusion of her tongue sweeping through her mouth.

"You were not repulsed?"

"No. She's a good kisser."

"Did you then copulate?"

"What?" Kerry exclaimed, leaning back to observe the young woman whose head seemed to be resting on Weaver's shoulder.

"Copulation is the physical act of two people involving the placement of their genitalia..."

"I know what it means!" Kerry interrupted quickly. "No, we didn't copulate then."

"Unfortunate. Isn't kissing a prelude to copulation?"

"Sometimes. However, we didn't then."

"Ah... later?"

"Yes, later...after I'd had time to think over the kiss and what Kim had said to me about wanting a stronger connection and what I felt for her. Then we became physically intimate, and it wasn't copulation. It was making love."

"Making love." Seven repeated the two words and found them acceptable. "I am eager to hear more about your making love with Kim."

"Boy, you sound like Malucci?"

"Malucci?"

"Never mind. And I'm not about to supply details."

Seven absorbed this news carefully. "Making love was a disappointing experience for you," she asked delicately.

"No!"

"Kim was disappointed, then."

"No! At least I hope not." Kerry paused, trying to remember. "What makes you think that either of us were disappointed in bed?"

"You are no longer together. I assume that if you were in love and making love was successful that you would still be joined."

Kerry sighed. "It's not that simple."

"Indeed." Seven was finding the whole matter of being in love highly complicated. She pondered the matter for a few minutes in silence.

"I believe you still love Kim. Why are you no longer together?"

"Because I am a stupid coward."

"Explain."

Kerry blew out a breath. Well, she might as well admit the truth to Seven.

"Same gender relationships are sometimes frowned upon."

"In your century there were some in society that deemed it unacceptable.

"Yes. So I preferred to keep my relationship with Kim quiet."

"You were ashamed of her?"

"No!" Kerry protested. She had never been ashamed of Kim or what they were to each other. "I'm just private. My sex life is no one's business but mine."

"And hers."

"Yeah." That was the catch. "Kim wasn't used to being in a closet."

"Closet?"

"An expression that means keeping the relationship under wraps, secret. She wished it to be more open. I disagreed. Then at the hospital Kim was accused of inappropriate behavior with a client. Although innocent, she was suspended. I had an chance to defend her more vigorously. I didn't. I was afraid someone would find out my relationship with her. She was angry with me and ended things."

"Unfortunate. Particularly since you still love her."

Very gently Seven leaned down and wiped the moisture from Kerry's face with her fingers. The gesture was not lost on Weaver, who pressed her forehead against Seven's for a moment. She could feel the cool optical implant against her skin. She drew back.

"So that's my love affair. Not exactly happy ever after."

Seven was silent, contemplating all that Kerry had revealed. "Love involves the acceleration and deceleration of emotions."

"It's a roller coaster all right."

"There was great pain for you."

"Yeah. But there were happy moments too."

"Was the happiness worth the pain?"

Kerry had asked herself the question off and on during the past year. Looking now into the eyes of another beautiful blonde she knew the answer.

"Yes, Seven. The happiness was worth the pain."

"Kerry?"

"Yes?" Kerry prompted when the Borg hesitated.

"Is love anticipating being in the other's presence?" Seven asked shyly. "Wanting to please her? Dwelling on her physical attributes?"

"Yes. All that is part of being in love."

Seven yawned. She was feeling sleepy, something that came as a shock since usually she found it impossible to sleep. Perhaps it was another reaction of her diminished systems.

"How does one get the other person to love us back?" she asked drowsily.

"That's the million dollar question, Seven."

"I was not aware that money was involved with questions." The Borg fretted as her eyelids closed.

Kerry smiled. Oddly enough, she felt better after telling Seven about Kim, as though a burden had lifted from her shoulders.

"It is difficult to determine how to get someone to return love," Seven said, half asleep.

Still smiling Kerry leaned over, her lips gently grazing Seven ear as she whispered.

"Don't worry, my dear. Your captain can't help falling in love with you."

Seven's lips curled in a smile.

Kerry kissed the silver starburst. "I'm a little in love with you myself," she confessed.

BLONDE/REDHEAD X 2

Kim grabbed her suitcase off the baggage carousel and pushed her way through the crowded United Air terminal. Kathryn was already standing outside in the taxi line, carryon slung over one shoulder and a death grip on the briefcase. Kim joined her. She had thought about calling Christy, but it would take her old college chum an hour to get to O'Hare plus another hour to get back to town and Kerry's. Not to mention the grief Christy would give her about not being in touch most of this year. Right now the less hassle the better, so when Kathryn had suggested they cab into town she'd readily agreed.

Would the other redhead be happy to see her? Should she even accompany Kathryn? She was certain now the Navy captain wouldn't hurt Kerry. Kim had just used that as a convenient excuse to get back to Chicago so she could see her former lover. Would Kerry even want to see her?

"Cab's here, Kim," Kathryn said, nudging her with the briefcase. Summoned from her reverie, the blonde climbed into the back seat of the yellow cab.

"Where to, ladies?"

Kim gave the driver Kerry's address. The same address that she had tried to keep from Kathryn back in San Francisco. The captain sent Kim a wry smile. Was it only hours ago that the psychiatrist faced a phaser blast instead of divulging the address? It seemed a lifetime ago. She glanced over at Kathryn, aware how things had changed. Nothing like bonding over cocktails at thirty thousand feet with broken-hearted love stories. It had helped to hear about Kathryn's conflicted feelings for Seven and share her own uncertainties about Kerry.

As the cab merged onto the expressway into the city, Kathryn spoke quietly. "Thanks for all your help. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."

Kim patted her hand. "You're welcome. Thanks for telling me about Seven and listening when I unloaded about Kerry."

"Any time."

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention our chat to Kerry. She might think I've been gossiping."

"Don't worry, I'll keep your confidence. I trust that you can keep mine."
The city's famous skyline came into view. Kathryn sank back against the seat. She knew these buildings by heart, the Hancock and the Tribune. As a child and teenager growing up in Bloomington, the big thrill for her was coming to Chicago for a weekend.

Such an odd homecoming. No fireworks or parade. Nothing like how she imagined she'd feel when she finally set foot in the Midwest again. After so long in the Delta Quadrant the thought of being home meant her crew was back with their families and loved ones. But the only one back home was Janeway. And her parents and sister weren't going to be born for another two centuries.

"Hey, you okay?" Kim asked, touching Kathryn lightly on the arm.

"Yeah, just a bit tired." Kathryn pulled herself together, shaking off her maudlin thoughts. She needed to concentrate on now, even if now was the wrong century for her to be walking around in. Soon, she'd be seeing Seven again. She hoped the Borg wasn't too ill. Whatever her condition, Kathryn was determined not to overwhelm the young woman emotionally. Talking to Kim on the plane had brought a certain clarity to Kathryn's situation with the Borg. But now was not the time to act on those feelings.

She would need to stabilize Seven and with any luck they could contact Voyager and get back home.

Letting Kathryn have the silence she obviously craved, Kim stared out the window at the city lights. There was nothing like the Windy City. Midwesterners were the salt of the earth. Kim had missed them after a year surrounded by crazy Californians. She'd even grown nostalgic for the winter, perhaps because it was summer. What was it Mark Twain had written? The coldest winter he'd ever spent was the summer in San Francisco.

The cab was passing Wrigley Field, and she thought of Kerry, such a rabid fan, clinging to the faint hope that next season would be the one. Such an optimist. Was she still that way?

A year was such a long time and no time at all. Had Kim made a mistake coming to Chicago? What would Kerry say when she saw her?

By the time the cab reached the section of Old Town where Kerry lived Kim's stomach was tied in knots. The vehicle slowed as it crept down a block of brownstones.

"There, it is..." Kim called out, recognizing Kerry's house. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribcage. She got out of the taxi and grabbed the suitcase.

Behind her, Kathryn stuffed money into the cabby's hand and picked up the carryon and briefcase. Kim had already climbed up the stairs and stood in front of the door.

What was the blonde waiting for? Seeing her hesitation, Kathryn leaned around to look at her.

"Are we at the right address?" she asked.

Kim straightened. "Yes."

Janeway jabbed the doorbell and for good measure hit the knocker. Finally a light came on in the foyer. Then the door opened. A portly, middle-aged man stood, rubbing his eyes.

"Is this the Weaver residence?" Kim asked, surprised to see him. Kerry couldn't have moved, or could she? It had been a year after all.

"Yes," the man said.

"Who are you?" Kathryn demanded.

"Harry Nielsen. Are either of you Captain Janeway?"

"I am Kathryn Janeway."

"Come in. Hurry," he urged, holding the door open and taking the suitcase from Kim.

Janeway was already across the threshold. "Seven?"

"Upstairs. She's pretty worn down. Kerry's trying to get her to sleep."

Not waiting to hear any more, Kathryn dropped the carryon and took the stairs in a rush, briefcase in hand and Kim at her heels. They paused briefly at the guest room. Empty.

"That's Kerry's bedroom," Kim said, nodding at a closed door.

Kathryn turned the door knob and went inside. Kim followed.

The room was dark, and for a minute it was difficult to see anything. Then Kim's eyes adjusted, and she could make out Kerry on the bed. She was not alone. Another woman was spooned behind the ER chief in the double bed. The quilt had been kicked off and the hall light showed the creamy expanse of leg under Kerry's nightshirt.

It was rude to stare at the bodies molded in such an intimate position. Kim would have hated to be observed asleep by any of her exes, particularly if she were in the arms of another woman. And yet, she couldn't avert her eyes.

Memories flooded her, of Kerry burrowing against Kim's shoulder in the middle of the night, her small hand tucked under the swollen slope of Kim's breast, a wiry leg angled between a muscled thigh. Kim swallowed and peered more closely at the woman holding Kerry. Annika Hansen aka Seven. She looked so young and heartbreakingly beautiful. No wonder Kerry had brought her home from the ER, and Kathryn had been fixated at finding her.

**Kathryn.**

She shot a quick look to her right where the captain stood frozen, riveted by the tableau in front of them.

Kathryn had charged into the bedroom, intent on helping a desperately ill Seven, never expecting to see her crewmember slumbering with someone else. At the sight of her astrometrics officer curled happily around a small dozing red-haired woman, a deep stab of envy hit Janeway.

**That should be me.** The thought came out of the blue, piercing Kathryn like a phaser beam.

The desire had always been bubbling just below the surface, mixed in with the curious pride of a mentor for her protégé. Only now, watching the woman she cared for, sleeping with someone else, did she allow the truth to surface. She wanted Seven in every sense of the word. She loved her. **And not in any damn maternal way.**

"Are they okay?" Unnoticed, Harry Nielsen had crept up behind the two women who were staring at the other couple on the bed.

He rapped his knuckles on the open door, the sound jolting everyone. "Dr. Weaver, you got company."

Years of sleeping in exam rooms during double shifts had trained Kerry to awaken at a moment's notice. She bolted upright in bed. Automatically she realized she was in her own bed and not lying on a gurney in the ER. What the hell did Nielsen want, she wondered grumpily as she drew the sheet over Seven. Then she noticed the two other figures coming into view from the hall light.

"Kerry, it's Kim."

Kim? Weaver fumbled for the lamp on her nightstand. She shielded her eyes, blinking at the sudden brightness that filled the room. It really was Kim. Blonde, beautiful and coming closer. Back where she belonged, to her. She wasn't dreaming.

"Kathryn's here to see her friend."

Kerry blinked, making out the compact, auburn-haired woman standing next to Kim, hands on her hips. Janeway, Seven's captain.

"How is Seven?" the captain asked, her words clipped and precise.

The sound of voices caused the Borg to stir.

"Not good," Kerry lowered hers. "She began to tire this evening. Kept saying something about her efficiency being down to 57%."

Leaning over the bed, Kathryn tucked a golden strand of hair behind a shell-like ear.

"Can you help her?" Kerry asked anxiously.

Kathryn nodded and unsnapped the briefcase. She took out the hypospray.

"What is that?" Kerry asked, alarmed. Automatically, she placed her body in front of Seven's, a gesture not lost on Kim or Kathryn.

"It's medicine," the captain replied.

"What kind of medicine?"

"Dr. Weaver, you can't help my crew member. I can. Please move away from her."

"Kerry, let Kathryn help her," Kim said.

Weaver had no choice. She rolled away from Seven who sensed the loss of physical contact. Her hand reached out, grasping Kerry's in her sleep. Kerry squeezed it as Kathryn injected the hypospray to Seven's neck.

Seven had been in stasis, not really asleep, her nanoprobes having done all they could to keep her efficiency levels up. Now a new influx of fresh nanoprobes filled her body, directing healing properties to her faltering Borg implants.

"What's happening?" A voice asked. Seven could identify it as Kerry's.

"She'll be awakening soon when the nanoprobes take care of her more serious problems." Another voice. It sounded very much like the captain's.

**The captain.** Seven gave a command to her eyelids to open. The face peering down at her had auburn hair and blue eyes. Not Kerry. Kerry had green eyes. Seven's optical implant registered the cheekbones and square jaw and she smiled, recognizing the captain. Her captain.

"Captain."

Kathryn gazed into the pale azure eyes, feeling a wave of relief lift her up. She would have wept, except starship captains don't cry, except when alone in their ready rooms.

"It's good to see you, Seven," she said huskily. Her fingers lightly caressed Seven's cheek, then she became aware of what her hand was doing and she drew it back.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, switching back to full captain mode.

"I am functioning at 65% efficiency. 67%, 71%... My implants are repolarizing."

"That's good. You had us worried." Kathryn glanced at the others in the room. "If you don't mind, I would like to talk to Seven in private."

"Of course," Kim said. However Kerry didn't appear inclined to obey Kathryn's order. "Kerry?" the psychiatrist prompted.

"Do you have a problem with my speaking to my crew member alone, Dr. Weaver?" Kathryn said, her voice polite but deadly.

"If Seven wants to talk to you in private that's fine with me," Kerry replied. "But it has to be her choice."

The captain may have saved Seven's implants from imploding or whatever the hell they were going to do, but she was probably responsible for those implants in the first place.

Civilians! Kathryn swallowed an irritable reply. "Of course. Seven, would you like to talk together in private?" The command lash in her voice was unmistakable.

"I will speak to the captain," Seven said, not exactly sure why Kerry and Captain Janeway were annoyed with each other.

"Leave us, please," Kathryn said.

Kerry swung her legs to the side of the bed, wincing and reaching for her crutch. Only then did Kathryn realize with some chagrin that the woman was disabled. Before she could say anything, two strong arms gently pulled Kerry back to the bed.

"I will speak to the captain in the guest room. You rest here in your bed, Kerry."

The young woman rose and padded barefoot to the door. "Captain, if you will follow me?"

Briskly, Janeway strode out of the bedroom. As soon as they had gone, Kerry gestured for Nielsen, standing half forgotten by the door.

"Harry, go downstairs. If Janeway tries to leave with Seven, you holler."

"Gotcha, Doc," Nielsen said.

Then he was gone, leaving Kim alone in the bedroom with Kerry.