The Chill of the Night
Kathryn Janeway was cold, environmental controls notwithstanding. The coffee cup in her hands warmed her skin, a little, but burned too hot for her to press her palms against it too long. The trickle of hot fluid as she swallowed only seemed to emphasise the unnatural cold that crept into her bones.
A soft chirp at her Ready Room door alerted her to a visitor, and she bade them enter without looking from the stars passing her window. The soft, hesitant tread drew her attention, however, and she looked around to see the long, slender form of her Astrometrics officer.
"Seven." She rose from the couch and stepped down to where the younger woman stood, still silent. "I thought you were regenerating."
"Captain, I..." Seven paused. Her lips quivered slightly. "My dreams were disturbing. I was unable to maintain regeneration."
"Oh, Seven." Kathryn placed her coffee on her desk and pulled Seven into a gentle hug. "Come sit with me." She drew her by the hands back to the couch. "Tell me about it."
Seven trembled in her arms as she spoke quietly of the things she had seen on her return to the Borg. Nightmarish descriptions of assimilations and Seven's own experiences resonated with Kathryn's memory of finding her there.
Finally Seven ground to a halt, tears flowing unchecked down her milky cheeks. Kathryn rocked her gently, releasing the golden hair from its tight twist to run her fingers through its softness. Time passed unnoticed as she whispered words of comfort, reluctant to let Seven leave her arms. It was more than the knowledge of the guilt, fear, and remembered horror the chill alcoves would evoke.
Her Seven should be protected from such things.
She became aware that Seven was falling asleep in her embrace. Kathryn kissed her hair and settled back against the cushions, warm and unwilling to let this woman go just yet. Morning would be soon enough to face the painful world that waited beyond her door.
She slept.
//I'm not leaving without you.\\
She stops to look back, and sees the grief and regret in the crystal blue eyes so at odds with Seven's harsh words.
//Go!\\
She implores the captain to leave, to be safe, to accept the sacrifice she doesn't know Seven is making. To believe in the betrayal, not the love or the loyalty.
//Two days ago she said that Voyager was her Collective now.\\
She won't be persuaded that Seven would betray them. She won't accept Chakotay's pessimistic view.
//I am Annika Hansen. Human.\\
And if she must become a drone again, the individual she is can face destruction with that one knowledge. She is human. She knows compassion. Mercy. Love.
//She's one of us.\\
She is hers. She will not lose her to the Borg. She belongs to Voyager. To Naomi. To Kathryn. She will die to get her back. She is dead without her.
//Your survival is important to me.\\
The captain must not be assimilated. She will be reintegrated into the Collective to save this woman who once ripped her from it.
With the morning they woke, there in their shared comfort. Kathryn released her crewman /love\ and they stood. Seven hesitated. Kathryn knew she was trying to find the words that did not exist.
"Sleep in my quarters," she ordered gently. "I'll come see you later."
The ice-blue eyes warmed. "Thank you, captain."
In unspoken agreement, they hugged again, and Seven slipped away in the sure knowledge of her captain's love. The memories, they both knew, would not be readily soothed. But for now, at least, they could be put aside for dreams the sweeter for the sharing.