Sometimes what she misses most is sunsets. The endless night outside her window is beautiful, but coldly so. It's been too long since last she saw the warm, curling beauty of daylight on fire. She can barely remember what sunlight feels like any more - even up close, a star seen from space is not the same, and the ship is too cold. She's too cold. She could turn up the heat, but it's the warmth of a living, breathing biosphere she craves, craves so intensely it's an ache almost physical.

There's someone at the door. Kathryn stands, crosses to touch at the button that slides the door aside and shows her a woman framed against the light of the corridor who could, almost, be Seven of Nine. But the image is wrong - she's used to seeing Seven proud in her strength and surety, not this Seven, who stands with her shoulders slumped. It's subtle - barely a difference, but Kathryn can see it. She looks defeated.

A breath as they look at each other, then Kathryn sees the aching need in Seven's eyes and catches her hands

// feels flesh-warmed metal sharp against the softness of Seven's human hand //

to draw her delicately inside. Doesn't ask what's wrong. Something in her can taste Seven's intense fragility at this moment, and she doesn't want to see this woman break. They're not ready yet.

Down now to the couch, and the questions are hovering in the breath that's all that's between them. Seven's fingers are trembling against her own. She wants to ask what's wrong, but her lips won't part, because when she meets Seven's gaze she can see the

// pleading //

nameless hurting in them.

"Captain..."

You'd have to know Seven well to hear the choke of emotion in Seven's voice. Kathryn feels a stab through her heart, a need to

// hold her //

help her and ease the pain her friend is feeling.

"What is it?" Barely a whisper. She can't look away, can't break this moment. A breath too loud and they'll both shatter now.

"I need to know what's happening. I - I don't understand it."

It occurs to Kathryn that she should be afraid. Seven's honesty could lead them both to something Kathryn doesn't know she's ready for.

// Coward. //

She opens her mouth, and is ready to talk Seven out of it - and then she becomes aware of the fragility of the soul laid bare before her, the shields of Seven's perfection stripped away. Nothing she could do in this life would atone for betraying the trust offered now before her.

A line from a poem skitters across her mind.

// Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing. //

She takes a breath, gently, carefully, and wonders what to say. Nothing she can think of would sound anything less than trite and ridiculous. She's so torn with the thoughts of it that she almost misses the minute shift in Seven's expression. She couldn't miss the bare adjustment of posture that closes the distance between them and brings Seven's lips to brush across hers.

Barely a touch, and she's breathing hard now, her heart pounding so hard it's rocking her entire body. Seven's watching her, only the light contact of their fingers holding her together.

Seven's still watching, not pushing at all - just waiting for Kathryn as if she never needs to move again. There's a light in her eyes, unfamiliar, but unutterably sweet - a warmth Kathryn has never seen before, but has missed without realising it.

"Yes," passes her lips on a soft exhalation, and is swallowed in Seven's kiss.

She doesn't even notice that she's warm again.