Under the Cradling Moon

The Painting

There is no night in space. I think that’s the reason I still have such a hard time sleeping, even after all these years. I’d like to think that the stress and strain of getting the crew home keeps me awake at night, but I know better. I know that my body keeps me flamingly diurnal, and that coffee is my only weapon against its complaints. On the odd occasions when I can allow myself to rest I slip into a sanctified unconsciousness with effort.

Now the gleaming keeps me awake.

Awash in the starlight outside my windows, the standard-issue furniture starts to shine. The effect is startling and vivid, I half-expect to turn around and find a moon over the Golden Gate, as if I were still in my apartment in San Francisco.

I’ve been noticing this gleaming since I started drinking the Andorian cider Chakotay left behind from our last dinner. He probably didn’t intend for me to mix it with gin and down it with the greatest snack this century has produced: Butter and Wasabi Popcorn. Images of my room swirled and strobed in my mind in between the thoughts that I was trying to kill.

It was only when my head started spinning, my body started weaving and I tumbled into bed that I would hear the singing.

At first I thought it was my pillow. Because it seemed to me that the pillow that always cradled my cheek so gently – no matter what was happening, however bad things were – would have a voice just like the one I was hearing. I only heard the voice when my eyes were closed, so I thought it was simply a comfortable dream. At times like this I was never lucid enough to think very deeply about anything.

Living by myself had loosened me from my life a long time ago, long before I met her. Long before I heard her voice, felt her touch, fought and laughed and lived and loved her. Yes, I probably did love her, didn’t I? When did I allow this to happen? It snuck up on me in the night… was it that night, when the moonlight shone behind her seated figure on the foredeck and she seemed, for a minute, to be edged in a rim of a plasma burst, her optical implant glinting like a circle of duranium. Or was it when she risked her life to help those troubled Borg? Or when she made that tentative, touching speech at John Kelly’s funeral?

My thoughts waltzed through my head, visions of Seven still swirling and strobing the colors of the visual spectrum. Dancing through my head in time with that lilting song…

Dear God, I don’t want to think about her.

I know if I start thinking about her I’ll also think about the naked longing in the Doctor’s eyes when he looks at her, how she responded to him in his fantasies, how she responded to him in reality: kissing him on the cheek when I gave him his commendation. I’ll remember how Chakotay’s voice deepened when he spoke about Seven’s involvement in our recent mission to salvage the Aries IV command module. I’ll remember the look in his eyes and the way he confided that he could see now what I had seen in her all along, that he realized she was more than just an efficient Borg.

And then I’ll remember convincing her, begging her to come home… assuring her that I would never let any harm come to her, reminding her of everything we’d been through, and how she’d thanked me that morning in the mess hall. I’ll recall with perfect clarity that moment she brought down the force field, how she took a deep breath as I closed the distance between us… how I wanted to hold her and kiss her the way she had held me so long ago on that sail boat… how I had chickened out and knelt at her feet instead, asking Voyager to beam us home.

And then I’ll remember why I got drunk in the first place…

The canvas was propped up on my couch when I got back from the transporter room. It was pitch black, deep indigo and brilliant blue, the moon held high in the sky, painted with meticulously gentle brush strokes. Delicate whorls and loops of Borg script overlaid the sky, and in its mysterious curves I saw my name… Kathryn.

My heart stopped in my chest, and I felt light-headed, wondering why she had done this, how she had done this, and when she had placed it in my quarters. A small part of me wanted to run to Cargo Bay 2 and embrace her, making a spectacle of myself in front of Vorik and the other Engineers who were helping her remove the cortical processing sub-units in the alcove that caused her to distrust everyone. The stronger part of me wanted to crawl into an escape pod and launch it away from the ship, away from the feelings that were running through my very soul.

Only the chirp that announced Chakotay saved me from doing either. I hurriedly placed the canvas in my bedroom as I shouted orders to the replicator. After our celebratory dinner and several toasts to the catapult that had cut three months of our journey home, I called up the database and set about translating what Seven had written on the canvas. It took me most of the night, but when I had finally decoded the mysterious writing on that evening sky, I lost my nerve entirely.

Dear God, the unbelievable softness of her lips, her skin against mine… it had felt so right to be in her arms… I found myself drifting off to sleep in her embrace, wishing that the dawn would never come and that I would never have to go back to the ship.

She told me that it was the strength of my vision, the faith in my dream, that the crew put their trust in, that held the ship together... “Perhaps not perfectly, but always consistently.”

I had always known that she cared about me and respected me but in that moment I think I felt the price of that respect for the first time – the knowledge that her affection for me was something I had to live up to. Not something I had to earn because she gave it freely, but a love I had to prove worthy of. And I had to prove it to myself, not to her.

She loves me. Dear God, she loves me.

I tried so hard to bury my feelings, to hide them from her and from myself. I fought to forestall this moment, the moment where I would have to make this choice.

How could I indulge myself with her, how could I love her knowing the volatile emotions I kept locked inside me? What would happen the next time I lost control? I would put her first, before the ship, before the crew, before any directive or any civilization if she were in danger. I would drown in her willingly, forsaking everything that I already am. I would lose control and I have so little of it left.

But how can I not love her? How could I stand Chapman, or Harry, or the Doctor, or even Chakotay winning her heart if I threw it away now? How can I keep restraining myself for the next thirty years? Will I really be able to survive that long without her, or worse, knowing that she loves someone else? Will I really be able to turn her away without damning myself in the process?

So many thoughts, so many regulations scintillating like knives in my head… waltzing… one, two, three, four… one, two, three, four… Red and blue, yellow and green strobing on the walls of my skull… the furniture gleaming… that song… where have I heard that voice before?

Mermaids and sirens… wasn’t there a mermaid somewhere… don’t look at her or you’ll fall in love… that’s what hapless sailors do and they drown… with the lobsters and salmon… yellow and blue and the moon… looking out into the sea forever…

All these dreams… these pretty dreams…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to a raging migraine and a lethargy in my limbs. Groaning I lifted my head off my pillow and was hit by a wave of nausea at the same time that reality came sharply into focus.

Sighing, I replicated a hypospray to take care of my hang-over and a large breakfast. Pancakes lathered in butter and maple syrup washed down with a tall glass of milk and a pot of steaming coffee always seemed to make me feel better.

I wolfed down my breakfast, took a quick sonic shower, and dressed for my shift. I arrived early, acknowledging my staff as I made my way to the ready room, informing Chakotay that he had the bridge.

In the hopes of postponing the inevitable, I dove into the pile of reports that greeted me when I activated the small console on my desk. Among the normal entries related to ship efficiency and morale I found that Ensign Vorik had reported to B’Ellana that he’d completed the task of removing the essential parts of Seven’s modified alcove. B’Ellana’s clipped daily summary mentioned that Seven volunteered to do the rest herself. The Doctor had declared Seven fit for duty, and I surmised that she was probably in Astrometrics.

Now what?

I tried to clear my mind, breathing deeply and counting to one hundred, letting memories and images of the past few days filter through my consciousness. Seven had been using her modified alcove to download large amounts of data in order to increase efficiency aboard Voyager. She hadn’t accounted for her human physiology and she’d spawned various conspiracy theories in order to make sense of all the data. She implicated me in a plot to strand Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. Chakotay believed her and B’Ellana had believed him. Then Seven had denounced Chakotay as a Maquis conspirator. And then, Seven had made her way to the shuttle bay, convinced that the entire crew had come to the Delta Quadrant to sever a drone from the Collective and take it back to Starfleet Headquarters for further study and tactical assessment…

Seven had been convinced that I’d set out to acquire and study her, that everything that I’d done for her all this time had been an act… merely a part I was playing. And yet she left her painting in my quarters… why?

My eyes flew open as the realization hit me.

She hadn’t known that I shared her feelings; she only knew that she loved me, and that I had betrayed her. The painting was meant to be her last stinging indictment, to be found only after she’d destroyed the catapult and committed suicide.

All I ask is that you trust me again.

Seven had trusted me, believed in me even when I had willfully intended to murder an innocent man for the sake of Starfleet’s highest ideal. She had followed my orders, even volunteering to retrieve fragments of Aries IV’s command module simply because I encouraged her to discover the value of history and of exploration. She’d acted on so many of my suggestions, exploring dating, music, and art. Seven had been trying to please me all this time, and I had never noticed. Frustrated, angry, paranoid, burning with hate and despair… and still she loved me.

She loves me. That was why she’d come back, that was why she always came back. That was why she was in Astrometrics right now, patiently doing her duty.

My head swam with awe at the sheer enormity of her devotion, and with sadness at the terrible pain she must have felt when she believed I had never really cared about her.

I remembered how she had held me in her arms that night on Vashri, I remembered how I felt safe and loved, the rocking of the boat on the waves and the pressure and warmth of her body close to mine, and her voice… reassuring me but careful never to let me know how she truly felt. I remembered the sound of her voice singing me to sleep even in my drunken dreams.

Seven deserved better than this… she deserved someone better than me. But, thank God, I’m the one she’s fallen in love with.

And now, in complete sobriety and with unflinching honesty, I knew what I had to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I left the parchment tied to a protrusion on her alcove, rolling it up into such a small tube that only her eyes would notice that it was there.

Seven, my sweet mermaid,
this is to let you know that I know
the pain in your dearly-bought legs
the blindness of the one you love
who does not remember the moon
who cannot recall the dream
of your unbearably soft lips
your unquestioning gaze
your siren song
that brought me back from the night
this is to let you know that I know
and that I am waiting
hoping you will trust me again.

I assumed she would find it and read it before she regenerated. But then I’d forgotten that Seven didn’t need to regenerate every night, and that I hadn’t specified a time. I finished dinner undisturbed, without even the slightest chirp of a comm badge. I fidgeted and fretted, nearly wearing a groove into the floor of my quarters as I paced the length of my living area. What if she hadn’t noticed it? What if she noticed it and couldn’t read it because my penmanship was atrocious?

I waited for hours, trying to absorb myself in poetry or a paper on gravimetric anomalies or a gothic novel, and failing utterly. I did succeed however, in consuming three bowls of Butter and Wasabi popcorn, cleaning my teeth after each serving to ensure perfect breath.

It was only at 0300H that I realized there was a God, because the entry chime to my quarters rang in my ears and I knew that only one person would call at this hour.

I stood up because I wanted to be eye to eye with her when she entered. Then I decided that that was going to look too formal, too stiff. So I sat. But it was a nonchalance that felt forced and awkward. So I crouched, half-propped up on one knee. That, of course, didn’t help, because it was the worst of all. I’d gone from looking stiff and then awkward, to flat-out stupid.

In the meantime, there was another chime at the door.

I stood again and took position behind the chair, leaning on it. But then she realized I’d be sending a subliminal message by hiding behind the furniture.

The chime pealed insistently.

If I delayed much longer, then it was going to seem damned weird when I finally let Seven in, because the obvious question was going to be “What kept you?”

I could pretend I was soaking in the tub. Great idea. All I had to do was pull off my uniform, fill the tub with water, jump in, get completely wet, jump out, toss on a robe, and answer the door… at which point the strikingly beautiful woman on the other side would very likely be back in Cargo Bay 2, regenerating.

The hell with it.

“Come in .” I said in what I hoped was a confident tone of voice. Sure enough, Seven of Nine was on the other side, her posture half-turned away. She had clearly been about to leave.

“Captain,” she said, turning uncertainly towards me, “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.” I lied with brisk efficiency. “I fell asleep reading on the couch. So… come in.”

She moved hesitantly across the threshold, closing the distance between us and stopping abruptly, several meters away. Seven widened her stance and held her hands behind her back.

“I… received your message.” She began slowly, as if testing the ground she was about to tread on.

I gave her a nervous smile. “I’m glad you did.”

Silence flooded the space between us, washing around us like torrents of water from a dam.

“Would you like anything?” I said, practically running to the replicator and trying not to stumble over myself like an adolescent.

She shook her head but said nothing to dispel the awkwardness in the air.

I let out a long sigh and stood as tall as I could, willing myself to do what was right by this beautiful woman. “Seven, would you like to sit down?”

“No. I would prefer to stand, considering the content of this discussion.” She replied coldly.

“Oh?” I asked quailing under the iciness of her tone but irritated at her calmness. “What do you think the topic of discussion is, Seven?”

She stared at me for a moment, as if she was constructing me in her mind’s eye. Then with a defiant lift of her chin and her blue eyes forward, she spoke in a tone laced with bitterness. “You have translated the words on the painting I left in your quarters. You requested my presence in order to cause the minimum level of embarrassment. You will tell me one of three things: that you find me an insufficient mate and that I will adapt with time, that you are in love with Commander Chakotay and only view me as a friend and that I do not understand my emotions to begin with, or you will say that even if you did share my feelings changing the parameters of our current relationship would cause you to violate protocol and endanger the entire crew.”

“I see you’ve thought of everything.” I began. “At least you think you have.”

“Explain.” Seven said, betraying an iota of confusion.

“Seven, can we please sit down?” I said. “I want to do this properly.”

“Very well.” She acquiesced.

I motioned her toward the couch and smiled as she came to sit beside me. Looking deeply into her eyes, I reached out to hold her left hand in mine.

“First of all, Seven, I did not ask you to come to my quarters to avoid embarrassment. I asked you to come here so we could have some privacy.” I explained patiently, happy to start-off on what I could easily verbalize.

“As for the three possible topics you mentioned,” I paused, taking her face between my hands and making sure I had her attention, “I would never think you were an insufficient mate. I know that I’ve been a very stupid woman, but I’m not so far gone that I would subscribe to such a moronic notion. On the contrary, one of the problems I have is that I’m having a hard time believing that you’ve fallen in love with me.”

I felt my face burning from this admission, but I plunged on. “Secondly, and let me be very clear on this… I am NOT in love with Chakotay. He is a wonderful, sweet, loving man and he is one of my dearest friends, aside from you. And yes, I admit that at first, I didn’t want to risk our friendship, and that I felt protective of you because you’re inexperienced. But I never thought of you as a child.”

I dropped my hands from her face and broke eye contact. “I’m sorry if I ever treated you as if you were a child. I’m pretty sure I did every now and then…”

“Constantly.” Seven corrected.

“I apologize.” I said sincerely. “I suppose it was my way of denying what I was starting to feel for you.”

“You are not questioning the veracity of my feelings?” Seven asked in quiet incredulity.

“I couldn’t presume to know your feelings, could I?” I replied. “I’ve already presumed so much, which is what got us into this mess in the first place.

Seven looked away abruptly, as if I had slapped her. When she spoke her voice was dead. “You feel that I have complicated your life, that my feelings have created a 'mess', that I will erode your command authority.”

“You’ve made my life infinitely better, Seven.” I said, my hand slowly turning her face towards me. “But yes, Starfleet protocol is an issue.”

“You violate directives with impunity, and yet you sanctify minor regulations that are only for external order.” Seven stated, her voice like daggers. “You are afraid. You know the crew abhors me and you are anxious that they do not detest you and disobey your orders.”

“Seven, the crew doesn’t detest you!”

“Open your eyes, Captain.” Seven retorted. “At best, the senior staff tolerates me. The junior staff is not always so kind.”

“Well, they’d better start treating you properly or I’ll confine the lot of them to quarters and fly this ship myself!” I fired back, losing control at the thought of the isolation she must have felt all along. “You’re the woman I love, and they may not prefer to be in your company but they will certainly respect you.”

Seven reached for my hand, gripping it with an almost painful intensity, as if I were a life line she needed to stay afloat. “Captain…?”

“It’s Kathryn, darling.” My left hand moved to cup her face gently, as I told her quietly, what had lain buried in my soul for nearly three years. “I wanted to tell you… I feel... damn, this is so hard.”

“Cap-Kathryn,” Seven corrected, “I am also…unused to such emotions. When I read your message and logic lead me to conclude that you also shared my feelings… I felt elation and anger.”

“Anger?”

“I was irritated by my emotions.” Seven admitted slowly. “Your concerns are… logical, efficient. My actions are not.”

“Love seldom is, Seven.” I said softly.

Her hand traced the contour of my shoulder tentatively, shyly, as she drew in breath. “You are also experiencing conflicting feelings?”

“Yes.” I replied, quivering at her gentle touch. “Seven, I have prayed and dreamt and ached to be held by you. I haven’t been able to tell you because the way I feel for you terrifies me. In you, I discovered a love that seemed too intimately beautiful to be meant for me. I love you, I cannot help loving you, but I don’t know what to do.”

She moved imperceptibly, folding me into her embrace as her lips came to rest once more on the corner of my mouth. If I moved a centimeter, my mouth would be on hers, and I would claim those sweet lips. I would press my open mouth, my open heart, my open life to hers… and neither of us would be the same.

I tempted fate before I could raise any objections, lightly brushing my lips over hers questioningly, wanting to know that she wanted… needed this as much as I did. I kept the pressure of the kiss light, teasing her with its slowness. The answering kiss was soft and shy. It was such a great gift that I shivered inside at the taking of it, dimly remembering that it was her first kiss before waves of heat washed over me. She let out a soft moan as I took her bottom lip between mine.

I expected affection, gratitude, passion, and devotion. But I never anticipated such tenderness, such earnestness. Her lips moved sweetly beneath mine, searing my body with their white heat. She gathered me in her arms as I tentatively sought entrance to the sweetness of her mouth. Seven tasted of sweet apple wine, of clear summer days, of coming home at long last. Every molecule, every strand of DNA in my body knew that this was it; this was the moment I had waited and longed for all my life. It felt so right, so natural to be holding her in my arms and kissing her deeply.

I leaned into her kisses, pushing her down on the couch. Her hands were caressing the nape of my neck, the length of my back, the dip of my waist and the curve of my hips. My legs entwined with hers and I felt the dampness of her arousal on my thigh.

She gasped at the contact, trembling beneath me as I pulled back and began to trace a line of gentle kisses on her neck.

“My sweet love,” I murmured against her neck, “I want you so much. I wish I could make love to you.”

She blinked rapidly in confusion. “You will not make love to me?”

“Not tonight, my darling.” I whispered, stroking the blond hair gently, enjoying the feel of Seven’s skin.

“Why?” Seven asked, her hand drifting to the back of my thigh. “You stated that you desired me. I feel… I want… I cannot identify what I want, but I want more.”

I grinned. “I’m glad you do, Seven. But we really should take this slow.”

“You are torturing me.” Seven said, her mouth pursing up abruptly.

“Seven… are you?” I put my hands on either side of her and lifted myself up. “You’re pouting! Oh, darling, you look so cute!”

“I am not cute.” Seven replied, sitting up and folding her hands across her chest.

“Yes, you are!” I chortled, throwing my head back and allowing the seismic waves of laughter to flow out of my throat.

“You are giggling.” Seven said, her features softening. “I like it.”

Her arms went around me and a kiss stilled my mouth, tender and unquestionably sexual. I lay still as she began her gentle explorations, her hands drifted up to my breasts as her tongue slipped shyly into my mouth. Waves of heat shot through my body and my mind went blank, every neuron dedicated to savoring the experience.

This was it; this was the cosmic rapture I had never dreamed I could partake of. Her touch – I’ve never been touched so softly, so gently, so deftly, with such power. It was the touch of Seven’s hands that I hungered for - the tender, potent touch that thrilled me. But I’m still afraid, and as much as I want her touch to inflame me, I need it to soothe me even more.

“Seven… darling…” I began, torn between the desire raging within me and the desperate need to talk this through.

Her mouth and her hands grew still, she removed them abruptly and I caught a flash of irritation in her eyes. “Kathryn, you will listen to me this time.”

I smiled. “I suppose resistance is futile.”

She arched both her eyebrows. “I believe that Ensign Paris would refer to that remark as ‘lame’. I would concur.”

I stuck my tongue out at her and she kissed me again, swiftly and soundly.

“You will desist being cute.” She ordered, a grin peeking out of her demeanor. “And you will listen to what I am about to say.”

I nodded, burrowing closer into her embrace.

“I love you.” Seven said softly, caressing my face as she cradled me in her arms. “I desire you. With others I am efficient, with you I cannot be. It is infuriating. Your approval, your happiness, your well-being, your love… they are most important.”

I felt the tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and for once I let them fall freely.

“Kathryn, you love this ship. You love the crew.” Seven stated. “Your first priorities are the well-being of Voyager. This has always been of paramount importance to you. It is your Omega. I understand this, and because of you I have come to value the ship and the crew as well. I have sought to make… friends, though I have encountered many failures in this activity, but what is most important to me is our friendship, our relationship. I know that you cannot give me what I want, what we both want… but I would like to be with you and be loved by you, even if it is only for a moment.”

“But Seven…”

“No matter how you feel for me,” Seven said sadly, “you will always do what is right. It is part of why I feel angry and happy, why I love you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Seven.” I cried, burying my face in the softness of her hair.

“Then let me be with you tonight. Let me have this moment with you.” She said simply. “And tomorrow, you will do what you think is best. Just the way you always have.”

“Seven…” I called out her name, the battle raging within me.

“Please, love me tonight, Kathryn.” Seven said, pressing a vulnerable kiss to my waiting mouth, conveying her thoughts and feelings in ways that brooked no misunderstanding or misinterpretation.

Moaning weakly in her mouth, I surrendered completely to her. Letting my hands roam freely, reverently over the contours of her lissome body. I felt the catch of her dermoplastic suit underneath my fingers and attempted to loosen it as her hands moved underneath my uniform. With excruciating slowness, we undressed each other. I gasped as her exquisite body was revealed to me, and gave in to the desire that surged through me… naming and kissing and worshipping each implant and each plane of smooth skin. I began to stroke her breasts with light, tickling touches.

She called out my name again and again as I tasted the sweetness of her coral-tipped breasts, licking them slowly. I watched as her eyelids fluttered open momentarily, only to shut again in total pleasure.

I had always wanted to be the first one to teach her the sensual pleasure of love-making, to introduce her to the depth of pleasure that we could share. I drew a calm certainty from deep within myself… and slowly drew her nipple into my mouth, mimicking the gentle motion of my mouth with my left hand.

“Kathryn… Oh, Kathryn!” Seven moaned softly. “Please make love to me.”

My right hand caressed her inner thighs, drifting up slowly, languorously into the sweet wetness that I knew awaited me. The strong muscles in her thighs trembled and then parted. I lifted my head to look into her eyes, gasping at the trust and devotion where I expected to find only anxiety and desire.

“I’m so in love with you, Seven.” I finally admitted. “Stay with me every night.”

Seven’s arms tightened around me, as her hands caressed my neck, my back, and my thighs. “You will have me as long as you want me, Kathryn.”

“I want you forever.” I declared, as I dipped my finger into her sweet wetness and stroked her lightly. “I want to love you like this for the rest of my life.”

Her eyes flew open, locking onto mine as I stroked her insistently. She lay vulnerable, physically and emotionally naked as she writhed beneath me.

“I love you, Seven of Nine.” I told her softly. “And I will not fight it anymore.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, and I bent to kiss them away, her hips rising up in order to maintain the blissful contact of my fingers. Her fingers gripped my back, almost painfully, as I entered her gently. I gasped at the slick tightness that surrounded my fingers as I moved in long, slow strokes. My mouth descended once more to her nipples, first one, and then the other. Her hips were thrusting against my hand, slowly at first, increasing the tempo as her desire built, as I guided her to the peak of her climax. Seven arched into my arms and cried out my name, her entire body trembling around me.

My head swam with the knowledge that I had given her this pleasure, that I was the one who had made her this happy. I knew then, that I wanted to be the only one who would ever be allowed to make love to her.

“I’m here, Seven.” I said as I held her in my arms. “From now on, I’ll always be here.”