A Lover's Touch


"Don't touch me."

"Seven?"

Janeway's hand jerked from her friend's bare shoulder in response. Seven had been quiet all night, and their usual warm and satisfying after dinner activities were played out with limited enthusiasm. Now it seemed whatever was bothering Seven had surfaced. Janeway waited, still lying close enough to feel the heat from Seven's body, but not touching her.

The Borg remained silent, her chin resting on her folded arms, staring at the star lines through the large windows. A muscle in her shoulder twitched, and gooseflesh raised down her back despite the warm air.

"What's wrong?"

"I am alone here. Some days, more than others."

Despite being used to Seven's lack of tact, Janeway felt stung by these words. She'd done all she could think of to bring the Borg in closer to her and to the crew. She'd opened herself up to Seven, been able to feel comfortable with her, relax her captain's guard, and hold Seven that much closer because of it.

"Has someone said something to upset you?"

Seven turned her head slightly. "I thought you were more perceptive than that."

Janeway quickly thought through her recent encounters with Seven, seeking some mistake or callous remark said in jest that may have caused her current dark mood. She came up blank. What was it? It had been almost a year, surely. . . oh.

"This time last year?"

The Borg sighed and returned her chin to her arms. "This time last year, I was not alone. I was Seven of Nine. Nine that are no longer with me. There is no one in my head but me."

"So why can't I touch you?"

"Touch or don't touch, as you wish. It doesn't matter."

Her hand returned to Seven's shoulder, but the flesh under her fingertips felt cool and firm, without the yielding warmth she was used to. That's ridiculous, thought Janeway. Minutes ago I was holding her hard, feeling her sweating and moving against me. Her skin flushed red across her breasts, and her hands digging hard into my back. But now?

"I can't give you those voices back Seven."

"I'm not asking you for them. You can do nothing. Accept that my pain is mine, and not a thing you can change. Don't worry Captain. I shall not return to the Collective." Seven rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. "I shall be your captive Borg, made half human. You keep me, feed me, cloth me and give me tasks to perform. I enjoy . . . this" Seven waved her hand to include the bed, the rumpled sheets, and Janeway's naked body.

"Thanks. I think."

"But it is not the Collective. I'll never be included, never as close to anyone here as I was to the Borg."

"But you're almost human, Seven. You are human in many ways. The small differences between us count for very little."

"Really?" Seven raised her hand and turned it till the back of her hand with the metal lace work reflected the star lines. She clenched her fist and slowly the twin strands of the assimilation tubules emerged from the remaining Borg implant, and waved eerily. Despite herself, Janeway edged away from Seven, putting a few token inches between those alien attachments and her naked human flesh. Seven retracted the tubules and rolled onto her side, facing the captain.

"Can I assimilate you, Captain?"

"No!"

"Just a bit. Just enough Borg nanoprobes should do it. Just enough to let you hear my thoughts and I yours. There would be no pain. You would retain your personality, your individuality. You would gain much." Her face looked soft and pleading, lips moistened and her ocular implant covered by a wisp of hair. Seven reached out for Janeway's shoulder.

"Don't touch me." Janeway whispered, shocked at Seven's offer, and unsettled by her own reaction. Of course she knew in her logical scientist's mind that Seven was still part Borg. During their more personal moments, it was not an issue. She realised she'd been stopping herself from thinking about that, as Seven stroked her body, and caressed her. Her touch was a human touch, despite the cool metal tips of her fingers. Now Seven was forcing her to see what she had pushed aside.

"I will not harm you, Captain. I was seeing your reaction. Do you understand now? You accept my touch, and return it. But I am Borg, and I frighten you. If you remain scared of me, then the crew will also. I am alone." Seven returned to lying on her stomach, head down on her arms. "We are Borg."

Janeway rested her head on a hand, and watched the slow rise and fall of Seven's back as she breathed. She saw the fall of soft blonde hair across her pillow and neck, and the long white expanse of skin over muscle and bone down her back. She reached out a hand and smoothed it along Seven's spine, coming to rest on a curved butt cheek.

"I understand, Seven. I'm sorry." She leaned in closer to whisper a hot breath against that soft hair. "You may be Borg, but you're My Borg."

The only voice in Seven's head replied silently "And that will suffice?"