• This is the 27th in the Just Between Series.
• It was posted on October 22nd, 1999.
• This is a bit of fluff in the vein of JB Lovers, mostly sappiness and no action (depending of course, on what one's definition of 'action' is.)

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager lay suspended between dreams and reality, in that hazy uncertainty between sleep and wakefulness, captured by delight and intense desire. It took her an indeterminate amount of time to realize it was actually happening, that she really could feel the touch of her partner's mouth on her, the delicate caress of a skilled tongue on her most intimate spot, stroking firmly, then lightly, playing with her as a cat would a mouse, pouncing, then teasingly letting her go, only to pounce again.

"Oh, god," she groaned, gasping for air. She bent her knees, flexing them, angling herself to grant her spouse better access, to offer more of herself to the woman she loved. Her hand crept down to tangle in long blonde hair, raking through the soft strands that wrapped around her fingers as if to capture them.

With wakefulness came fulfillment and she arched, a sound of incoherent intensity bursting from her lips, the shivers of pleasure shaking her before gradually letting her go. Slowly, slowly, she descended, the mouth gentle now on her, tender, soothing her. Then finally, Voyager's astrometrics officer, the ex-Borg, Seven of Nine, released the captain and eased up onto her stomach, resting her head on Janeway's belly, her cheek soft against Janeway's skin as the Borg's fingers continued to play with the triangle of auburn hair, matted now with the copious moisture.

Janeway swallowed hard.

"Well, a good morning to you, too," she muttered huskily.

Seven pressed her lips gently against the rounded flesh beneath her, nuzzling briefly into the indentation of navel.

"Good morning," she purred quietly and Janeway smiled.

"To what do I owe such a wonderful awakening?"

Seven tilted her head, angling it so that she could meet the older woman's eyes.

"You were born," she responded seriously. "You exist, my darling Kathryn."

Janeway's breath caught. "Indeed. Lucky me."

"No, 'lucky me'," Seven insisted and rose up. She kissed softly over the captain's stomach, her lips brushing against the smooth skin as she traced a path up to Janeway's breasts where the Borg settled onto them as if to make up for neglecting them until now. The captain sighed and wiggled luxuriously under the loving mouth.

"Oh, my," she mumbled.

Her nipples were being teased and pleasured in the most delightful fashion, the moist warmth of Seven's mouth covering them to suck lightly, then drawing back to circle them with the firmness of her tongue, flicking them. Janeway groaned and wrapped her arms around her lover's head, holding the delight to herself. Before long, she was gasping again. Having her breasts caressed so intently was one of her most favorite things and Seven knew how to do it just right, alternating back and forth between them, building the captain's desire with familiar skill. Then Seven drew away and a pang of disappointment shot through Janeway, though it did not last long as the Borg braced herself with her right arm, the hand pressed against the mattress right beside Janeway's head. With her left arm, Seven reached down and hooked it beneath Janeway's leg, pulling it up, positioning her into a receptive mode for her intention.

Confused, Janeway's eyes widened as Seven fitted herself to her spouse, the wet heat of the Borg pressing against the captain with demanding firmness. Suddenly, Janeway found it hard to breathe, her heart pounding as the sensation spread through her like an unchecked wildfire, the Borg undulating against her. They had tried this positioning only once before, and Janeway had been the aggressor then. Now she lay beneath her partner and received the unquestionably intense and arousing joy, her eyes locked on Seven's, blue-grey staring into ice blue, captured totally until Seven's head went back, crying out the name in abandoned pleasure.

"Kathryn. Oh, Kathryn."

Janeway felt the tremors, the flutter of the opening against her own, the sudden rush of moisture that incredibly, trickled inside her and her own climax leaped upon her without warning, the delight shuddering through her without mercy.

And still Seven was not done, falling upon the captain's breasts once more, a little firmer now, more aggressive, nibbling, raking her teeth over the tender skin and Janeway was helpless beneath the loving assault. There was a warm penetration, two fingers that entered Janeway knowingly, commandingly, curling up to find that smooth spot inside even as the thumb circled insistently outside, and the captain lost control completely ... if she ever had it in the first place ... unable to move, writhing beneath her partner who held her, tamed her, made her the Borg's own, totally and completely.

It took a while before Janeway was once again aware of her surroundings, of her partner kissing her gently, the piquant flavor still strong on the Borg's mouth.

"God," Janeway husked, her throat dry, her heart only now slowing. "You weren't kidding around this morning, were you?"

"I never 'kid around'," Seven informed her, looking down with pure adoration lighting her pale eyes. "Did you ... enjoy it?"

Janeway laughed. "Enjoy it? I'm amazed I survived it."

Seven smiled faintly, pleased and kissed her softly once more. "It is time to get up," she said just as the computer chimed in with; "The time is 0600 hours."

But the Borg did not move, seeming content to cover the captain as long as Janeway deemed it necessary for her to stay. Touched, warmed by the absolute caring and thoughtfulness, Janeway wrapped her arms around the young woman's neck and kissed her deeply as the moments passed unnoticed, and unmourned for their passing.

"I absolutely adore you," she muttered finally, as she released the full lips.

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven assured her intently. "Forever."

Janeway smiled at her, then reluctantly loosened her embrace. "Duty calls."

Seven eased off the captain and rolled out of bed, her lean, lanky, six-foot frame uncoiling like a spring as she padded naked into the bathroom.

Janeway took the time to lounge a little longer, not drowsing, but simply appreciating the moment, and the very delightful way she had spent the last hour. Even the sound of the sonic shower did not set her teeth on edge as it normally did and she decided that the rest of the crew would certainly benefit from the Borg's attention to detail this fine morning. Seldom had the captain begun her day in such a good mood.

Seven came out of the ensuite, garbed in her blue-grey mesh outfit, her blonde hair done up in an austere bun, the grey metal of her cranial implant glinting briefly in the illumination of day watch. She arched a brow as she observed her partner.

"Your uniform is on the sink counter. "Do not be long. I am preparing your favorite breakfast ... unless you wish to consume it in bed?"

Janeway blinked. She was really getting the full treatment this morning. She didn't quite know what was prompting it, but she certainly wasn't going to complain. "No," she said, flipping back the blankets. "I'm up."

She padded into the ensuite, noting the fresh towels hanging neatly next to the shower as she accessed the controls, adjusting the temperature to hot. It wasn't a bath, but she luxuriated under the spray and steam from the triple heads for a sinfully long time before she finally shut them off. She dried herself with the fluffy, oversized towels, completed the rest of her ablutions and finally drew on her uniform, feeling pleasantly pampered and wondering why she couldn't start every morning this way. The red band of command settled comfortably onto her shoulders as she brushed out her auburn hair, finally pulling it back into a ponytail. She regarded her reflection in the mirror for a moment, checking the command mask, content that it fit precisely as always, then relaxed, smiling ruefully at herself.

She wondered if it was time to shorten her hair. She rather liked it long but Seven had a preference for the collar length hairdo the captain had worn when they first became a couple. Of course, the Borg had never said anything to that effect, but Janeway knew in that way lovers had, and she decided that with this, she could accommodate the young woman. After all, Janeway had only been allowing it to grow out in reaction to a period of time where she had been severely shorn as a result of an illness ... if one could call having her metabolism overwhelmed by runaway Borg nanoprobes, an illness ... but now it was becoming slightly bothersome to deal with every morning. She made a mental note to have the ship's barber take care of it soon.

She walked out through the bedroom where the bed had been stripped and efficiently remade with fresh linens, then proceeded into the larger, living area. She noticed that Seven had altered the dog's area and wondered when the Borg had time to do that. The couple had acquired the energetic Irish Setter a year or so earlier and though it made for cramped conditions in the captain's quarters, Janeway would not give him up for the world. She leaned over and scratched behind the animal's ears, Jake pausing briefly in his consumption of his breakfast to look up, wagging his tail. The food and water dishes were now positioned against the wall, well away from the traffic area leading through bedroom door, something the captain appreciated. She couldn't count the number of times she had came out in the night for something, only to step barefooted in the cold, wet stain where he had inadvertently spilt his dish. Though if pressed, she couldn't really explain why she hadn't taken the time to move them.  It was just one of those odd things, she decided.

Seven was at the dining table which was already set, placing a full plate at the captain's place. Janeway raised an eyebrow, taking her seat in front of the fluffy western omelet accompanied by lean bacon and four pieces of whole wheat toast. Orange juice sat next to a smaller glass of skim milk, and best of all, a full mug of steaming, hot coffee, the fragrance rising to fill the captain's nostrils, waited for her.

"Darling," she said as she tucked into the repast, "I have no idea what I did to deserve this, but please, tell me what it was so I can keep doing it."

Seven smiled and leaned down, brushing her lips warmly over the back of Janeway's neck. "I told you," she said indulgently. "You were born."

The Borg sat down opposite the captain and began to eat her much smaller meal, requiring far less nutrition than the captain did though she massed far more. The granola cereal and milk was consumed quickly and soon, Seven was taking her empty dish over to the recycling unit.

Janeway raised an eyebrow, only half through her omelet. "Annika?"

Seven, on her way out, hesitated and returned to the table, bending down to kiss her spouse lovingly on the cheek. "I have things I must do before I report to the astrometrics lab. Enjoy your breakfast, my Kathryn. Your thermos is on the counter."

"Have a good day, love," Janeway said, somewhat disappointed to see her go but knowing that both women filled crucial roles on the ship. Neither were the sort to have the time to linger over the start of the day though, because of the Borg's preparation, Janeway seemed to have lots of spare moments this morning.

The captain finished her breakfast, flipping the crusts from her toast to Jake who snapped them up eagerly. She grinned at him.

"You're lucky mommy had to leave early. Otherwise, you wouldn't be allowed with those."

Jake obligingly wagged his tail in proper gratitude.

Janeway brushed the crumbs off the table onto the floor where she knew Jake would do a reasonably good job of cleaning them up before Seven got home and took her dishes to the recycler. She detoured into the ensuite, took a moment to clean her teeth, then returned to the living area, scooping up the silver cylinder of the thermos on her way out the door. The turbolift carried her quickly to the bridge where most of the alpha shift was already on duty, though not the full complement. She nodded at Lt. Ayala at tactical, the first crewmember she saw as she entered. The lieutenant was apparently replacing Tuvok, the ship's security chief, who was on his off-duty rotation. The dark-eyed young man inclined his head graciously and returned his attention conscientiously to his board. She flashed a smile on the other side where Lt. Harry Kim manned operations, looking a little weary as he returned the smile wanly. Janeway didn't mind, aware that it was to be expected for the new father. No doubt the newest addition to his family was keeping Harry up nights.

Commander Chakotay, the burly first officer, rose from the command chair, greeting his captain as she descended to the command level. "You look chipper this morning."

"I suppose I do," she managed without blushing, though she was sure her return smile was a trifle smug. "Status?"

"All systems at optimum. We continue on course to the Alpha Quadrant. Looks like a quiet day."

"Let's hope so," she said. She glanced around, noting Tom Paris was back on the helm, glad to see he seemed fully recovered from his ordeal at the hands of the Spurnge. "Carry on. I'll be in my ready room going over the departmental reports."

"Aye, Captain," Chakotay said, as she strode away, heading for her ready room. "And Captain?"

She paused just outside her door. "Yes?" she asked curiously, looking back.

He grinned, crinkling the tribal tattoo that arched over his left eye down to his temple.

"Happy Birthday."

She glanced up as the door to the astrometrics lab hissed opened, slightly alarmed. She wasn't yet ready for a visit from the captain and she was greatly relieved when B'Elanna entered instead. The stocky, dark-haired Klingon looked inquiringly at the package on the console and at the others, which were contained in a mesh bag resting on the deck.

"What is this? Christmas?"

Since Seven did not know what 'Christmas' was, she shook her head.

"No, it is Kathryn's birthday."

B'Elanna looked faintly surprised. "Is that what Neelix has been up to the past few days? He requested a temporary leave for party preparations but I though it had more to do with the fact that all the new babies are finally here."

"It is a combined celebration," Seven explained. "Just as my birthday party was. However, the captain does not know so you must not tell her."

B'Elanna looked faintly offended. "I wouldn't."

Seven was not prepared to argue the point, not really having the time for it, though she readily could. "You must hide this in engineering," she said instead to the other woman, handing her a small gift. "At precisely 1100 hours, you must contact the captain and request her presence in engineering where she will find the package."

B'Elanna blinked. "Is this why you called me up here?" she countered, taking the brightly wrapped package and looking at it with bemusement. "Not because of the restraining field experiments?"

"I have data on that as well," Seven responded, reaching over for a stack of padds, which she also gave the engineer. "That is all I require. You may go."

"Whoa, waitaminute," B'Elanna protested, dumping her load on the nearest console and staring at the Borg, hands on her hips. "Whatever happened to 'hello, B'Elanna, how are things with you?'"

Seven realized she had been somewhat abrupt. Granted, it was her normal demeanor but certainly her friend deserved better than that, so she curbed her impatience and regarded the Klingon evenly

"I am sorry. Hello, B'Elanna. How are you?"

B'Elanna crossed her arms over her chest and grinned. "I'm glad you asked. I'm doing just great."

Seven waited, then finally understood that the engineer required further prompting and resisted a sigh. There was a great deal for her to do this morning if she wished to carry out all her plans for the afternoon, but she also knew that sometimes things did not always progress as she intended. That was 'life', as her spouse would say.

"Why are you so happy?" Seven asked, accurately gauging her friend's mood.

"I'm up for off duty rotation. Once my shift ends at 1600, I'm completely free for the next two days."

"And this is indicative of what?" Seven said, maintaining her patience with a slight effort. "That you shall be by for lunch? I am not off duty for another week."

"No," B'Elanna agreed, and if smugness were a requirement of rank, the Klingon would be spouting admiral insignia by now. "But Ro Laren is."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. Suddenly things were becoming somewhat clearer. "And you shall be sharing your off duty time together?"

"That's the plan," B'Elanna said and it seemed that she was truly excited over it.

Seven took a second to remember how she felt whenever she was anticipating time spent with the captain and was better able to appreciate B'Elanna's good mood. Then a thought struck her and she frowned. "Will you not be at the captain's party this evening? I know she will be sorry if you and Lt. Ro do not attend."

B'Elanna frowned. "Aw, Seven, the captain won't even miss us."

"Yes," Seven said firmly. "She will." She hesitated. "B'Elanna, I know that we have not always been on amiable terms but whether you would be agreeable to do this for me, certainly you must have enough regard for the captain that you will attend for her."

B'Elanna eyed her narrowly. "Dammit, Seven, that's emotional blackmail. When did you learn to do that?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Manipulation is a frequent Human interaction."

"Yes, but not so deliberately done." B'Elanna leaned on the console. "Seven, you shouldn't be so blatantly manipulative."

Seven considered that. "Ah, so it is not that I am attempting to coerce you in actions you do not wish to take. It is because I am doing it badly."

B'Elanna opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, then looked a bit confused. "Sort of," she said finally. "I guess I never looked at it that way before. Seven, it's not so much that you're trying to convince me to go to the party, it's because you know I would rather be with Ro. That indicates a disregard for what I want and what will make me happy." She made a face and added in a subdued grumble, "You're not my mother, after all."

Seven hesitated. "You are correct. I was thinking only of myself. Or rather, only of what would make Kathryn happy, not you. I am sorry, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna waved it off. "It's okay. I guess if it's for the captain, it's not so bad."

"It isn't?" Seven responded, completely baffled at this point.

B'Elanna looked at her, started to answer and again, had to pause. "You know," she said, after a moment. "You really make a person look at why people do the things they do."

"Is that good?"

"Sometimes. But other times, ignorance is bliss."

Seven had never heard such a saying and was a trifle outraged by it. For someone who considered the gathering of knowledge to be the ultimate purpose in life, this was a thought that seemed quite dangerous ... and self-deceptive.

"I do not believe I can agree with such a statement," she said finally, after trying several times to come up with the proper words to voice her opposition to such a belief.

B'Elanna grinned crookedly. "One of these days, you'll understand exactly what I mean." She held up a hand defensively to forestall Seven's next comment. "But, for the time being, I withdraw it. Ignorance is not bliss." She pointed at the bag of presents, changing the subject. "Are those all for the captain?"

"Yes." Seven was aware of time slipping away and that Jennifer Delaney would be arriving shortly to cover her duties while she ran about the ship, carrying out the rest of her preparations. "I must place the selected presents for Kathryn to find. Then I must go to my quarters where I will prepare a special lunch for Kathryn."

B'Elanna stared at her with a mix of surprise and rueful envy on her face. "You're really doing it up big, this year. Are you trying to rub it in because she keeps forgetting your birthday?"

Seven was shocked. "No! It is because I wish her to be happy." She had never considered anything remotely resembling what B'Elanna had just suggested during all her planning and was profoundly horrified. Would Kathryn regard her plans the same way, thinking that Seven was attempting to insult or hurt her in some way?

"I'm sorry, 'Nik," B'Elanna said hastily, obviously having read the emotions chasing themselves across the Borg's narrow features. "Of course you aren't. That's just my cynicism kicking in. I keep forgetting you don't have a cynical bone in your body and I shouldn't pick on that."

Seven looked at the mound of presents uncertainly. "Will Kathryn be upset by this?"

B'Elanna clearly wished she had never brought it up. "'Nik, she's going to love this." She reached out to pat Seven on the arm. "If she does have any question about it, just remind her that you love her. She'll remember quick enough that you never have ulterior motives for the things you do ... not deep down in your heart. You're so transparent that anyone can figure you out in a minute."

Seven wasn't sure that was a compliment but she decided not to pursue it. Instead, she sought more reassurance.

"Is this too much? I never thought that she would not appreciate being pampered."

"Annika," B'Elanna said seriously, gripping her arm. "The captain loves you completely and she knows you love her that way back. This is exactly what she would have done for your birthday if she hadn't been in the middle of a crisis at the time. She's going to be overwhelmed by all this and love every minute of it." She looked a bit desperate, obviously seeking better words, then brightened. "'Nik, you know my track record with relationships. Why would you even give a second thought to my opinion when it comes to things like this?"

Seven felt relieved. "That is true. You do not know anything about conducting a successful romantic relationship."

B'Elanna paused, looking as if she had just tasted something unpleasant. "Exactly, but you do. Your instincts are exactly right when it comes to things like this, Seven. Rely on it."

"I shall," Seven said firmly. "Thank you, B'Elanna."

"No problem." B'Elanna seemed to relax a little and let go of the Borg's arm. "Actually, maybe I should be asking you for advice. Tonight will probably be the first time Ro and I ... uh, are together. Any idea of how you would prepare in that instance?"

Seven frowned. Her first time with Kathryn had been not so much planned as inevitable, the young woman becoming aware of the captain's attraction and simply showing up in her bed one night unannounced. It worked for them, but Kathryn did not have the volatility of the Klingon or the quick and deadly reflexes of the Bajoran. Though shocked, the captain had approached the situation with the kindness and compassion that was so characteristic of her and both she and Seven were able to discuss things rationally ... before they returned to the bed and carried out what seemed predestined in the first place. Seven did not think that would be how either B'Elanna or Ro would prefer their physical relationship to begin, though how she knew that, she was unable to pinpoint.

"Kathryn and I appreciate combustible generated illumination," she offered tentatively. "And low decibel rhythmic sounds."

"Candles and soft music, got it," B'Elanna replied, looking pleased. "I can handle those."

Seven decided to leave it at that. Any more suggestions might only have the opposite effect of what B'Elanna was attempting. After all, the four individual women were completely different in attitude and demeanor and what worked for one couple was unlikely to work for the other. She filed that revelation away in her eidetic memory, realizing that she should never take any of B'Elanna's suggestions regarding her relationship, seriously. After all, how many had turned out successfully up until now? Other than the accessory, of course and even that was more for Kathryn's benefit than Seven's.

Both women looked up as the door hissed open and Ensign Jennifer Delaney entered the astrometrics lab.

"Seven, I'm here to relieve you," the attractive young woman said, somewhat unnecessarily since the Borg had been expecting her for just that purpose.

Part of a set of twins, the two Delaney sisters had been estranged for reasons that Seven was not entirely sure about after Jennifer's sister, Megan had married Harry Kim. However, with the recent birth of the Kim's son, Jennifer's nephew, the sisters were once again on friendly terms. Seven was glad, since Jennifer could be quite discomforting to work with when she was unhappy, as she had been when she was not getting on with Megan.

"Thank you, Ensign. I wish you to know that I truly appreciate this."

"Hey, I'm just glad to help out with the captain's birthday surprise. I'll see you at the party tonight."

Seven gathered up her bag and glanced at B'Elanna. "1100 hours," she reminded her pointedly.

"I'll remember," B'Elanna responded and grinned.

With that less than ringing promise in her ears, Seven scurried out of her lab, readying for the next stage of her plans.

Seven was far better at remembering these things and truly enjoyed birthdays, as well as the varied traditions surrounding them. Clearly, she had gotten Janeway's special day off to the perfect start and Janeway wondered what else her partner had planned. Her first clue came as she saw the elegantly wrapped package resting quietly on her desk.

"So you 'had to do some things', Annika?" she said out loud, smiling fondly. With a sort of unfamiliar anticipation, she sat her thermos down on the smooth surface and went around the desk, sitting down in her chair as she reached out for her gift. Delighted, she detached the card from the bow, opening it to read the interior.

Charmed beyond words by the Borg's efforts at poetry, even if it was slightly clumsy at expanding on the existing verse, Janeway opened the package eagerly, her eyes glinting slightly with a suspicious moisture. Inside was a tiny bronze statuette of Leonardo daVinci, made to match the larger one on the shelf attached to the nearby bulkhead, and Janeway wondered where the Borg had managed to lay hands on such a thing. She stared at it, knowing in her heart that meeting the young woman was undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to her in her life.

"Oh, Annika," she whispered, and brushed the back of hand across her eyes to dislodge the tiny drops there, glad that no one was around to see such unabashed sentimentality. She placed the little statue next to her computer console where she could look at it through the day, then, activated her comm. A touch brought up the departmental reports which still required attention, not caring that Janeway had been born on Earth forty-four years ago, and she was able to rededicate herself to the task at hand, though every time she glanced at the statuette, she found herself smiling somewhat foolishly.

She forced herself to work steadily until approximately 11:06 hours before she finally taking a break, stretching in her chair. She blinked rapidly to soothe slightly strained eyes as her hands reached up above her head, then she got up and walked around her desk, easing muscles which had grown stiff from sitting in one position for so long. She unscrewed the top of the thermos as she carried it up the short flight of stairs where a tea tray rested on the low form of a coffee table. Her lucky china cup was placed upside down on the tray and she retrieved it, pouring it full of the dark rich brew, bringing it to her lips where she inhaled the full aroma deeply, sipping at it with quiet pleasure.

"Engineering to the captain," came over her comm badge.

Janeway lifted her head, making a brief face of disappointment. "Go ahead."

"Captain, I'm having a little problem with the EPS manifold. If you're not busy, I sure would like your opinion."

Janeway felt a bit of alarm. They had just had that very crucial area of the ship repaired at a space station not very long ago. If it was not working properly, it did not bode well for the multitude of other repairs Voyager had undergone. And for B'Elanna to require a second opinion only heightened her concern. "I'm on my way."

She carefully poured the coffee back into the thermos where it would remain hot and sealed the silvery cylinder. Then she left the ready room, nodding at Chakotay. "I'll be in engineering."

"Understood," she heard over her shoulder as she entered the turbolift. It carried her down to deck twelve, and she strode briskly into the large room containing main engineering. As she entered, she glanced around, spotting Torres and Lt. Vorik near the hatch leading to the EPS manifold. Janeway didn't relish having to climb through the Jeffries tube, but supposed it couldn't be helped. She did wonder, however, why B'Elanna was waiting for her rather than already tending to the conduit access controls inside, starting the repairs.

"B'Elanna?"

"I don't know, Captain," the Klingon grumbled. "Why don't you take a look inside and tell me what you think."

Frowning, the captain cracked the hatch, opening the panel and freezing when she saw the small, brightly wrapped package sitting just inside the Jeffries tube. Startled, she looked at her engineer. "Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna threw up her hands, walking away. "Hey, I just work here," she said, obviously intent on getting back to it. "Talk to the Borg."

Janeway met the dark eyes of the Vulcan ensign. He raised an eyebrow. "I also concur with Lt. Torres's sentiment," he said politely, turning around and vacating the area as well.

Janeway blushed and tried to hide it, feeling absurdly pleased and somewhat embarrassed that her spouse was involving others of the crew in these birthday plans. She picked up the package and removed the card, reading it quietly to herself.

Janeway tore at the ribbons and wrapping, wondering if her partner was aware of how much enjoyment and entertainment she was providing for her spouse. Definitely, a side trip to astrometrics to tell her so was required before the captain returned to her bridge.

Inside the package was a necklace, a thin gold chain of the type that the captain tended to favor whenever she wore jewelry. There was a charm attached in the form of the Starfleet insignia and smiling, Janeway put the necklace on, her fingers fumbling a little at the clasp. With as much dignity as she could manage beneath the smirks and fondly amused expressions of the engineering crew, she gathered up the torn paper and tossed it in a nearby recycling unit, then exited the main level and headed for the turbolift.

"Deck six." She discovered she was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet and forcing herself to stop. She wasn't sure what she would do or say once she got to astrometrics, but she hoped she would think of something appropriate. She tried to figure out what her ingenious spouse had in mind next.

Astrometrics was empty when she entered and she frowned, glancing around. There was another package sitting on top of the console, next to the single red rose, which rested in a crystal vase.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine," Janeway asked as she went to the console, removing card from the gift.

"Seven of Nine is on the bridge," the computer responded evenly.

Janeway was beginning to feel that this wasn't just a game of treasure hunting, there was a bit of hide and seek involved as well. And so far, Seven was several steps ahead of her. She read the poem inscribed neatly on the card.

The captain decided that the verse was somehow trying to follow a theme as she drew the holo-image from the box. This was clearly a visual gift, represented by Seven's addition of 'eyes of beauty' to the poem. The image was of Janeway, Seven and Jake together on a beach, obviously recorded at the ship's last full shore leave several months earlier. The captain was perched on a piece of driftwood as the Borg sat easily on the sand at her feet, leaning back against Janeway's legs. Beside them, Jake was standing alertly, head up as the captain held up a piece of barbequed steak. Janeway activated the holo-image and the small file ran, the sound of many conversations rustling under Seven's admonishing words that came through the tiny speaker clearly.

"Kathryn, do not feed him that," she said, even as Janeway tossed the meat to the dog who snapped it up eagerly. It ran on, Seven looking up at the captain sternly over her shoulder as Janeway returned the look with a smile, bending down to kiss her and forestall any further protest. The file stopped, Janeway and Seven caught perfectly, their lips pressed together as Jake looked on eagerly, no doubt waiting for another piece of meat.

It was outrageously sweet and Janeway made a note to compliment the Doctor who was likely responsible for taking the image, even as she was vaguely discomforted to have been caught in such a blatantly 'mushy' moment in public. It did occur to her that Seven must have been planning this for months and she was touched yet again by the sheer thoughtfulness of her partner. Smiling, she tucked the holo-image under her arm, recycled the wrapping, and left astrometrics.

The bridge was conspicuously devoid of any Borg when she arrived. Janeway looked curiously at Chakotay.

"Where's Seven?"

"Just missed her," he said, striving to look innocent. He did not succeed.

Then he raised his eyebrow as he saw the holo-image and Janeway reluctantly handed it to him. But he did not make any kind of sarcastic or smart remark. Instead, he watched it as it ran, an extremely wistful expression on his handsome features before handing it back to the captain.

"Very nice," he noted as he took his first officer's chair and that's when Janeway saw the package sitting on the console between his chair and hers, having been concealed to her view by his bulk, no doubt intentionally.

"I think you're falling behind."

Janeway didn't know how to respond, considered several cutting remarks, before finally, sitting down in her command chair, extremely aware of her bridge crew watching her avidly.

"Are you gonna read the card?" Tom asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Out loud?"

"No," the captain responded, in a tone that indicated he had better not pursue it. Then she softened. "It's an ongoing thing," she added in explanation. "I'd need to read all the previous ones for it to make sense and I don't have the first one with me."

They seemed to accept that, much to her relief, and feeling somewhat self-conscious, she retrieved the card and read it silently to herself.

Janeway swallowed a smile, suspecting that she knew exactly what Seven was referring to when she wrote about the captain raising her voice at night, for reasons that the Borg herself were responsible for. For that reason, the captain was hesitant about opening the gift, the thought striking her that perhaps it might follow the theme of the altered verse, just as the holo-image and necklace had. If that were true, it was definitely something she did not want to discover on the bridge.

"I think I'll open this in my ready room," she murmured, getting out of her chair.

"Aw," Harry muttered in obvious disappointment, but both Chakotay and Tom shot the captain a grin, as if knowing why she would prefer to open it out of sight. She tried not to blush as she retreated to the sanctity of her office, moving over to the upper level where she placing the present momentarily on the coffee table and refilling her cup before she settled on the couch to grant it her full attention.

She carefully detached the fastenings of the paper, taking more time with this than she had with the others. She withdrew the three items contained within the box, intently examining each one in order to figure out what they were.

The first was a small bottle of oil that, according to the label, was supposed to provide a deep heat when spread over the body, apparently stimulating and evocative, 'turning your massage into a sensual expression of love'. Since Seven was rather good at that without any help at all, Janeway wasn't sure she could remain conscious if the Borg used this during her next back rub.

The second item was a small cloth bag containing two silver balls that felt silky smooth as they rolled around in her palm. Confused, she read the accompanying instructions, which also conveyed a brief history of the ancient sexual aid. Her face was literally flaming by the time she finished, and she dropped the balls back into the bag as if they burnt her fingers. Honestly, she thought, torn between acute embarrassment and the provocative idea of actually using them someday. Where does Seven come up with this sort of thing?

The third item was a bit of silken underwear that the captain was astonished to find was apparently edible. Coffee flavor, and just Seven's size. Janeway could scarcely believe it and she hastily packed the box up again and sealed it so that no one could look inside inadvertently. Yet even as she flushed hotly, she found that she was aroused by the whole idea of it, just sitting here in her ready room, her nipples hard against her sweater, the juncture of her legs moist and aching pleasantly as she shifted.

"Annika darling, you better be ready when I get off duty," she muttered out loud and wondered if she should get something cold to drink. Something filled with ice that she could place against her forehead and hopefully take away some of this heat suffusing her body.

Lately though, she mused as she lowered the bar and stretched out on the nearby weight bench, grasping the bar above her head, I don't work out to try to keep my mind off being lost in the Delta Quadrant and my secret. Now I work out to try to keep my mind off B'Elanna.

Not that thinking about the dark-haired, feisty chief engineer was unpleasant in any way ... quite the opposite, in fact ... but thanks to a spat of interruptions and demands of duty, it was also becoming exceedingly frustrating. Ro consoled herself with the promise that, with any luck, it would be resolved soon. If she was just trying to occupy herself on her day off until B'Elanna was finished with her shift, then that was only to be expected.

Ro wasn't entirely sure what would happen this upcoming evening, but she expected that it would be a hell of a lot more fulfilling than returning to her empty bunk every night as she had done for so long.

She blew a limp strand of dark hair off her damp forehead and pulled down on the bar, working on her upper body strength. She wondered if the Klingon appreciated a well muscled body, then decided that she must, because B'Elanna had one of the finest toned bodies Ro had ever seen ... or touched ... though granted, those glimpses and touches had been fleeting and continually interrupted by one thing or another. The thought of that body sent a chill of desire and anticipation through her and with an effort, she drew her mind back to the matter at hand, knowing that the gym was not the place to let her thoughts wander.

That would be perfect, she noted with chill amusement. Pull a muscle or two and be unable to do anything at all should the opportunity arise. That would be just the thing the two women needed to get their physical relationship off to a good start.

She breathed slowly, forced to correct herself as she continued her work out. She knew that this was not going to be merely a physical relationship between the two of them. It was going to be an deeply intimate one and she had to admit it frightened her to a certain extent. That was something she didn't like to acknowledge too often ... that she could be frightened by anything, particularly after growing up in a Cardassian interment camp on her home planet of Bajor that had been occupied by the brutal and vicious invaders. She had faced all sorts of deprivation in the early part of her life, had seen her mother die of hunger, and had watched her father tortured to death for sport right before her eyes. The Cardassians thrived on fear, and so, she learned not to show it early on in her life.

But this, she allowed reluctantly, actually scared her. The Cardassians could only brutalize her, attempt to break her body and spirit. B'Elanna, at this point, with only the slightest of effort, could totally break her heart.

Ro wondered if the Klingon knew it.

"Lt. Ro."

Ro almost dropped the bar across her throat and barely managed to ease it back onto the hooks. She had been so involved with her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed the approach of the slender dark-skinned Vulcan now standing over her ... not a good display from a security officer who was under Lt. Commander Tuvok's direct supervision.

"Sir," she said, sitting up. She reached out for a nearby towel and mopped off her brow, draping the towel around her neck. "Did you want me for something?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow slightly. "Actually, Lieutenant, I noticed that you were working out. Are you off duty?"

Ro didn't frown, but she wanted to. That she was working out was obvious and if she was working out, then it was also obvious was that she was off duty. Stating the obvious was not the sort of thing a Vulcan would do. Particularly this Vulcan whom she had come to know and respect greatly over the years. He was the only person on the ship who had known her true identity from the beginning and kept that confidence for six years.  She wondered what was going on with him.

"Yes," she said, for lack of anything more intelligent to say.

"I do not wish to interrupt, but I am in need of conditioning in the art of T'kai and I require a partner."

Ro raised an eyebrow. T'kai was a Vulcan martial art, rarely practiced but one she was familiar with. In fact, Tuvok had taught her the practice not long after Voyager had been lost in the Delta Quadrant, providing the isolated woman with her only real socialization and recreation for the first couple of years. It might have saved her sanity and though it had been some time since she had jousted with the security chief ... as time went by, she had developed other acquaintances and alliances devoid of any Starfleet connection ... she was more than glad to acquiesce.

"Thank you, sir. I would ... appreciate it."

Tuvok led the way to the ring where they could grapple. The other crewmembers in the gym did not make a rush to surround the area as spectators, but there was a definite shifting for better lines of view from their various vantage points. Ro dropped her towel in the corner and shook out her hands, loosening up a little. This martial art was not a matter of strength so much as it was of speed and reflexes, both of which she excelled at, making her a good opponent for Tuvok who, despite his slender build, had all the advantage of his Vulcan heritage. He had grown up in high gravity and thin atmosphere, his physiology boasting copper-based blood that metabolized oxygen better than Human or even Bajoran hemoglobin did.

Ro balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, waiting for Tuvok to indicate he was ready. He did with a slight incline of his head. Of course, a real opponent would come without warning, but this was a sparring match only and not the real thing. The Vulcan opened with a standard attack, a feint to the left, then a snap to the head that Ro easily parried. She bounced a little, moving smoothly into the familiar patterns and motion of the match. Even though it had been a while, the reflexes remembered and as long as she didn't think about it and allowed her body to react instinctively, it was a simple matter of block and thrust, of feint and attack, like a dance between two beings who were perfectly attuned to each other.

Perhaps that was what clued her in that something was not quite right. It was one thing to spar with different opponents, but when it was with only a certain person over a long period of time, one got to know his moves as well as one's own, and it became even more of a dance. So the differences now, subtle though they might be, gradually became apparent to her. The pattern that Tuvok normally applied to this interaction was simply not there. It was ragged, a little too slow at times, a little too fast at others.

She wondered if he was attempting something new, trying to catch her off guard. Tuvok did not like his people to get too comfortable. Did he somehow feel that she had gotten lax over the past few months since the revelation of her true identity? Certainly, she had not been focusing all her attention on security, her other abilities having been brought to the captain's attention that resulted in Ro being tapped for bridge duty on more than one occasion. In fact, when Tom Paris had been kidnapped recently, she had taken his post, covering the helm. She had even been requested to change uniforms from the shoulder band of operations gold to command red, the same color she had worn on the Enterprise all those years ago. Did he think she was no longer dedicated to her role in security?

Or was something else involved? Had he heard the rumors of her relationship with B'Elanna Torres? Did he think she was allowing herself to become too distracted lately, not paying enough attention to her duties?

The doubts spurred her on to greater effort, parrying a blow from him and counterattacking with a double kick that connected, snapping the Vulcan's head back. She didn't know who was more surprised, her ... or him. He stopped dead, a dark expression appearing on his face, one that shocked her, then the impassive mask was back and gingerly, he touched the emerald blood oozing from his forehead.

"Sir," Ro asked anxiously. "Are you alright?"

"I am ... undamaged, Lieutenant. I had believed my reflexes had become ... less than adequate recently and this merely confirms it."

"Why, Tuvok?" she asked, moving closer so no one could hear. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her and though Vulcans were not know for their warm demeanor at the best of times, Ro had never experienced such an icy stare as she did then. It surprised and worried her even further.

"Nothing is amiss, Lt. Ro. I appreciate your concern and your agreement to spar with me this day."

He slipped through the ropes and dropped lightly to the floor, picking up a towel from the stack folded neatly on a table next to the ring. He dabbed at the cut over his eye that was already coagulating, the green staining dark on the white terrycloth, and strode purposely for the exit. She would have called after him but that would have embarrassed them both ... if Vulcans were subject to such an emotion. The thing about dealing with Vulcans is that they rarely had different motivations behind what appeared. If he did not wish to speak with her, then he would not, and calling after him would accomplish nothing.

She rested her hands on the top rope, staring after him in bemusement before she became aware that she was a target of some scrutiny as well. Self-consciously, she moved away, going over to her corner where her towel was crumpled. She picked it up and slipped through the ropes, depositing it in a nearby recycler and retrieving a fresh one that she used to wipe the perspiration from her arms and shoulders. As abbreviated as the bout had been, it had still been a good workout and it had more than tired her out. Any further exertion would be counterproductive at this stage.

She picked up her bag and headed for the locker room where she showered and changed into a simple, off-duty, cream-colored tunic with dark pants. She brushed out her short, collar length hair and donned a red band to hold it back, then left the area, carrying her gear in a small bag that had a gold insignia of Starfleet Command on the side. The captain had presented it to her without fanfare a few weeks earlier when the memo came down for Ro to change department color. At least, Ro's roommate had told her it was the captain who had dropped it off, along with a padd containing the memo and an authorization for extra replicator rations to cover the switch of uniforms. A duly impressed Ensign Dorado had stared measuringly at the Bajoran for a long moment, before quietly going about her business.

Ro could tell that her status was undergoing a change in the rest of the lower decks from the way people were starting to act around her, and the way they looked at her when they thought she wouldn't notice. Of course, she'd also be getting that kind of subtle observation if she had merely gotten involved with B'Elanna, but the two incidents together were serving to make her the target of far more attention than she was comfortable with. She just wasn't sure what she could do about it. She definitely wasn't going to curb her interest in the chief engineer ... not after having come this far and opening herself up this much ... nor was she entirely adverse to the professional changes. Despite her tempestuous career, where every change seemed to be profoundly life-altering, she had entered Starfleet with the desire to do well. That desire remained very much a part of her and deep inside, she took pride in the fact that her potential and abilities had come to the fore, whether she had intended them to or not.

She dropped off her bag in her quarters, noticing that her roommate who worked the gamma shift was in bed, asleep, snoring lustily. She quickly departed, finding herself wandering through the ship. The only problem she had with Voyager was that it was so small. An Intrepid class vessel, it was designed for courier missions and quick covert operations, not really intended for deep space exploration at all. Unfortunately, that's exactly what Voyager ended up doing once it was stranded 70,000 light years from the Federation. The ship had been forced to undergo some profound changes over the six years it had been out in the Delta Quadrant, but it was still difficult for crewmembers who were off duty during quiet stretches of space to find things to occupy their time.

The two holodecks were undoubtedly in use at the moment, and the ship did not host extensive labs and libraries where she could quietly pick up some extra duty. In fact, such areas were generally covered during the alpha shift to the extent that any extra body was an intrusion and not assistance at all. On deck eight, there was a park which had been designed for the new children who had been born on the vessel recently, but a great many of the crew also found it a favorite place to be. At this time of the day rotation, it would be crowded with beta and gamma shift crew getting a taste of sunshine, artificial as it was, and the very real smell of growing plants and trees.

She missed the Enterprise most, at times like this. The huge Galaxy-class ship had boasted several arboretums, two of which were respectable parks indeed, along with miles of Jeffries tubes and rooms where a person could find a little solitude for themselves if desired. Of course, Ro was attuned to traveling through space as part of her nature ... she wouldn't have been admitted into Starfleet otherwise ... and was not anti-people in any way, but every so often, she liked to be alone with her thoughts.

She turned the corner and nearly collided with Seven of Nine who was pushing a antigrav cart. The Borg brightened as she saw her.

"Lt. Ro Laren." Before Ro could even return her greeting, Seven had deposited four, brightly wrapped gifts in her hands. "I am behind schedule. You must take these to my quarters and place them on the bed, except for the blue one which you must place on the night stand. I will speak with you at the party for the captain this evening. Thank you."

Astounded, the Bajoran stared after Seven as the Borg hastened away. She knew her mouth was probably open but the sheer unexpected nature of the encounter had left her unable to do much about it. She glanced down at her arms loaded with boxes and tilted her head.

Well, she thought dryly. At least I have something to do now.

"Enter."

She caught her breath as her spouse entered, pushing an anti-grav cart covered with a snow white table cloth, fine china and crystal, with two silver domes covering what could only be a specially prepared meal. A bouquet of roses had been placed in a shimmering vase, making up the centerpiece and a greenish bottle of wine was stuck proudly in a silver ice bucket.

"Oh, my," Janeway said with astonishment.

Seven guided the cart up the short flight of stairs to the upper level, avoiding the edge of the steps as the antigrav field allowed it to flow up the angle. She positioned it next to the couch and looked back at the astounded Janeway with a faint smile.

"Lunch," she announced calmly. Dazed, Janeway rose to her feet and moved around the desk, mounting the short flight of stairs almost without noticing, feeling as if she were doing a bit of floating herself.

"This is incredible," she said as she reached out and captured the Borg in a warm embrace, looking up at the young woman's pleased face. "You're incredible. You are making this the best birthday I've ever had."

"Better than last year?" Seven offered quietly, looking down at her with luminous eyes.

Janeway smiled tremulously. "You're so thoughtful, my love."

Seven leaned down and kissed her very gently. "I am glad. It is my goal to make each of your birthdays better than the one before."

Janeway deepened the kiss, even as she was aware that they were still on duty. But this day only came once a year, after all. Would it be so bad if she allowed herself to enjoy this, to fully indulge in the gift her spouse was granting her? She knew that Seven must be truly enjoying the opportunity to give this day to her. The Borg was always so pleased whenever she managed to surprise the captain. In fact, Seven just flat out enjoyed celebrating birthdays far more than the average person did ... perhaps because she had missed so many of her own as a Borg drone. This area of space was relatively remote, with few nearby systems that could pose a threat to the ship, which was at optimum performance. Even the crew was back to a regular routine and Janeway allowed that perhaps she could afford a little lapse in her attention to duty at this time, where she might not be able to otherwise.

Seven released her reluctantly when their lips finally parted. "It is time to eat. I believe that you will enjoy it."

"I'm sure that I will," Janeway responded dryly, still feeling bemused by the gesture.

She took a seat on the couch as Seven deactivated the cart's antigrav system, the unit gently settling to the floor, and making it the perfect height for the captain to consume her meal. Seven took her place in the offsetting chair and lifted the silver domed covers from their meal; marinated grilled chicken breasts on a bed of spiced rice. The bottle of wine was properly chilled and Janeway quirked an eyebrow as Seven poured out the clear liquid. Again, the thought that she was on duty crossed the captain's mind and deliberately, she shoved it to the side.

"How many people have you involved in your plans?" Janeway asked after taking a bite of her meal. It was absolutely delicious and she closed her eyes briefly in appreciation.

"The command staff. Of course, the entire crew shall no doubt find the opportunity to attend the party tonight."

Janeway paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, suddenly suspicious. "But that's not a birthday party. It's to celebrate the arrival of our newest crewmembers."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Kathryn, the crew will no doubt be glad of the opportunity to wish you their best, regardless of what the party is for. Would you deny them that?"

Janeway exhaled slowly. "No, I don't suppose I could." Her face softened. "But I was hoping to skip the better part of the festivities and spend this evening alone with you."

Seven reached over, grasping her hand. "That is why I have made a point to seek you out during the day. I will not have you to myself this evening, but for this lunch break, you belong to me."

Janeway felt the corner of her mouth curl up. "And how long do you intend this lunch break to be?"

Seven pinned her with a significant look. "As long as is required." She paused. "That is Commander Chakotay's gift to you, taking command for the rest of the afternoon. It would be prudent for you to seal the ready room door."

Janeway's breath caught in her throat as she realized what the young woman was saying.

"Seven," she began. "I don't think..."

"Kathryn," Seven interrupted. "Eat your lunch. Afterward, we shall see what happens." She quirked an eyebrow. "You would not wish to disappoint Chakotay by not accepting his gift, would you?"

Janeway eyed her, deciding that Seven was becoming entirely too quick at trying to manipulate her into doing what the Borg wanted. She would have to curb that ... but not today. Today, she would accede to her spouse's wishes and she cleared her throat obediently. "Computer, seal the ready room, authorization Janeway, omega red, one, one, blue, nine." She arched a brow at Seven. "Am I going to regret this?"

Seven considered it. "Not at all."

Janeway had to content herself with that and to be totally honest, she was actually intrigued by it, wondering exactly what her partner had in mind. After the light lunch, Seven passed her another gift, and Janeway took a breath, feeling far too undeserving of the largess which was being bestowed upon her.

"How did you manage this?" she asked as it occurred to her that all these presents would have required a great many replicator rations. Carefully, she removed the card.

Seven hesitated, as if suddenly unsure of something that until now, she had not really considered properly. "I utilized certain research techniques to provide a surplus of resources that were applied to the final project."

Janeway paused, put the still unopened card on the table, folded her hands neatly in front of her, and pinned Seven with a blue-grey laser gaze.

"Meaning what, exactly?" the captain said, injecting a low note of command in her voice. She recognized immediately that Seven was trying to cloud the issue.

"I arranged to play pool with various crewmembers in the holodeck on separate occasions." Seven raised an eyebrow. "None of them are as good at the game as you are, though apparently, they were unaware of the fact that I am."

Janeway knew that her mouth had dropped open. "You hustled crewmembers for replicator rations?" she asked in astonishment.

Seven brightened. "Is that the proper term? Yes, I 'hustled' them."

"Seven," Janeway said sternly. "Gambling is against regulations."

Seven blinked, obviously startled. "It is? But all the crew does it. Even Chakotay had invested rations in certain 'pools' on the lower decks."

Janeway inhaled deeply. "Let me rephrase that. I'm not supposed to know my crew gambles and that is difficult to do when I'm enjoying the benefits of my spouse's ill-gotten gains."

Seven looked offended. "They were not 'ill-gotten'. It is the plan you described to me when you taught me to play pool ... I did not indicate how much I knew about the game until a person had challenged me to a match, thinking me an easy opponent. At that point, I would display my true skill and defeat them, thus winning the replicator rations."

Janeway closed her eyes. She had hoped that Seven had forgotten that little conversation, intending it only to be facetious. Or perhaps she was just upset that Seven had gone ahead and done it without her, even as she knew that it would be totally inappropriate for the captain to be 'hustling' ration slips from her crew. Could she really blame Seven for taking what she had said at face value?

"Who were your vict--- opponents?" Janeway asked finally.

"Lt. Paris, Ensign Hickman, Lt. Ayala and Lt. Baxter."

Janeway blinked. All those crewmembers were known to be remarkably 'lucky' when it came to games of chance or exhibitions of skill over the years ... some might say, suspiciously so. For Seven to have outmaneuvered them as she so clearly had, said a great deal about her natural cunning and it made Janeway look at her with a fresh perspective.

"How much did you win?" the captain queried.

Seven contrived to look innocent and mumbled something. Obviously she had some sense of shame about this anyway.

"Excuse me?" Janeway persisted.

Seven dropped her eyes and told her.

Janeway felt a little faint. "My god. You must have cleaned them out of every ration they owned. I didn't think there were that many unused ration slips on the entire ship."

"They are not unused now. A great many went to finish paying Harry Kim for the damage Jake did to his quarters. The rest I allotted for your birthday, and Naomi's which will arrive in two months."

"Why did they bet so much on a single game?" Janeway asked, somewhat dazed. She had wondered why she was no longer being garnished two or three replicator rations a day by the main computer. She had assumed Harry had not been as luxurious in his tastes as she had first thought.

"They did not merely bet on the games I played with them. They would also bet even more against me in subsequent games against my other opponents." She looked confused. "It was as if they were unable to believe I was capable at playing the game at that level over a long period of time. It was most interesting."

"Indeed," Janeway said, feeling a bit of pride at her spouse's ability glow her chest though she endeavored not to show it in her eyes. Regardless of her personal feelings, she still needed to be clear on the protocol regarding the situation. "Seven, I don't want you to gamble when you play pool anymore."

Seven seemed unperturbed by the request. "I will not."  She paused. "No one will play with me now."

Janeway stared, then started to laugh. "I'll just b---" she began, then amended it to, "I suspect not."

Seven looked at her, her pale eyes wide. "Will you play with me again, Kathryn? I like playing pool."

Janeway smiled. "Of course, darling. Anytime you want." But she made a mental note not to make any wagers with the young woman.

Seven nodded. "I am glad. We have not had much chance to play games together in recent months."

"No, we haven't. I miss our recreation time in the holodeck. We're going to have to start scheduling it in again."

"But not today." Seven nodded at the still unopened gift. "Kathryn?"

Janeway followed her gaze and smiled. "I'm getting to it," she replied and finished opening the card. She read the verse out loud in a quiet voice, smiling faintly. "I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith, I love thee with a love I seemed to lose smiles, tears, of all my life? --- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death." She glanced at Seven who blushed faintly. "No addition?"

"It seemed to be an adequate verse for the gift," Seven said. "It required no addition."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully and proceeded to unwrap the package. Inside, the captain discovered a delicate wooden box that, when opened, played a clear and sweet melody. Listening closely, Janeway identified the song which had accompanied Seven down the aisle at their wedding, and had also been played for their first dance as a married couple. The tune evoked the most wonderful memories for the captain and her chest grew full, as if unable to contain all she was feeling at the moment.

"Shall we dance?" Seven invited, holding out her hand as she pushed the cart aside, tucking it out of the way in the corner. With a word, she lowered the illumination in the ready room.

Bemused, charmed, a bit overwhelmed, Janeway accepted the hand and allowed Seven to guide her out to the cleared space on the upper level. She fit comfortably into her spouse's arms and she tried to remember the last time she had the opportunity to dance with the Borg. She couldn't, which meant it had been some time indeed, and that was a real shame because dancing had been something they both enjoyed a great deal.

"I have missed this," Seven remarked after awhile.

"Oh, darling," Janeway responded quietly as they swayed together. "So have I."

It made the captain realize how many of the little things had fallen by the wayside recently, even as both women made a concentrated effort to reach out to the other during the more stressful times. Now, dancing in her beloved's arms, holding her and being held, Janeway wondered how she could have let this particular interaction ever slip away. In this haven of the Borg's embrace, the demands of duty and proper protocols were gladly let go for the moment and the captain found it easy to immerse herself fully in the sensation of being with Seven, of this celebration of music and movement.

"I'm surprised the pattern of the music box was in the replicator data banks," Janeway said after a few moments of sheer bliss.

"It was not. Mr. Kim made it. He is very good with wood boxes. Do you remember the one he gave me for my previous birthday? It is on my nightstand."

Janeway blinked. "I do." She also remembered how annoyed she had been with the young ensign at the time for remembering Seven's birthday when she had been completely unaware of it. Which also led her to thoughts of the subsequent incident when she had thought Seven was dead, and convulsively, Janeway tightened her hold on her spouse. Seven returned the embrace, as if understanding what had caused the captain's discomfort.

"I love you," Janeway said huskily. "So much, my darling."

She felt Seven's lips brush over her hairline.

"I know," Seven assured her. "I love you, too. I am so happy to be married to you, Kathryn, to be able to share my life with you ... it is a gift you have given me that I shall always treasure."

That served to remind Janeway that finally, things were completely fine in her universe and if it didn't last for very long ... because they tended not to, in the Delta Quadrant ... then at least, they had this particular moment. She was slightly dismayed by the knowledge that at one point in her life, she would have carelessly wasted such an opportunity, thinking it was more important to attend to routine duty than the very real love she felt for her partner.

Older and wiser, she decided, and closed her eyes, allowing the Borg to guide her around the room. After all, wasn't that the whole point of this celebration of having managed the passage of one more year?

Smiling, she snuggled closer to Seven and let go of the last of her reservations.

Because until Seven had met Kathryn Janeway, she had not had a life, she had merely existed as a Borg drone. Now she had everything and the thought made her hold the other woman even closer to herself, enjoying the familiar way the captain fit against her body, appreciating the way they were able to move together in such exquisite balance. Love is exponential, she thought wonderingly. The more she shared with Kathryn, the more she received in return and the more she had to give again. Love was all. Not the striving for biological or technological goals, but for this single, emotional perfection.

She wondered if there was a way to convince the Collective of that? Or even Humanity? History decreed that it could not be done, but certainly, hope demanded that one continue to try, if only by example.

Seven didn't know when the song had ended, when the device had finally wound down, requiring more manual inducement to begin again ... she only knew that they eventually stopped moving and stood in the center of the ready room, gazing at each other. Kathryn's face was soft, shy, the command mask completely stripped away as if it had never been, her eyes warm and blue, with just a hint of grey to make them gentle. Seven felt the captain raise her hand, press her fingertips lightly against her cheek. They trembled and Seven felt her heart thump almost painfully in response.

"Kathryn," she began, whispering.

"Shh," Janeway breathed. "I just want to look at you."

So Seven remained still, her eyes searching that beloved face, memorizing for the millionth time, every plane and angle, every curve and dimple, every pore and line of porcelain skin and classic features. And when the waiting was almost more than she could bear, Janeway tilted her head, her fingers pulling Seven down with the lightest of touches, and they kissed, sweetly, barely brushing lips at first, then growing gradually deeper as with the most natural of instinct, their breath, their hearts, their souls, completely joined as one.

"Sometimes," Janeway murmured after an eternity had passed, "I wonder how I ever managed without you."

"You would have managed," Seven responded quietly. "You are very capable."

"I'm sure," Janeway agreed in a low voice. "But managing a life and living it to its fullest are two totally different things. In fact, they can be a universe apart. You bring such joy to my existence, Annika. You bring me all the things that make life worth living for in the first place. If I don't say it enough, then please, always remember it. You are my heart."

"And you are mine," Seven whispered. "Survival is insufficient. Loving you is quintessential."

She buried her face in the soft, auburn hair and held on with all she was, which the captain seemed glad to allow, clinging to her in return, so close it was hard to tell where the Borg left off and Janeway began. Finally, finally, they released each other, not quickly, but because not even they could remain upright, holding each other forever ... though for a while, they did their best.

"I know Chakotay is covering me, love," Janeway said as they both retired to the couch. "But what about your duties?" The two women had arranged themselves so that the Borg was in the corner, supported by the armrest and the back of the sofa while she in turn, supported Janeway, her left arm wrapped warmly around her back. It occurred to Seven as the captain curled up against her, that if someone were to walk into the ready room at that moment, they would not find Janeway to be her usual, formidable, commanding self at all. Indeed, it seemed that only Seven was allowed to see this vulnerable, soft and tender side to the woman cradled in her arms.

"Ensign Jennifer Delaney is covering my shift in astrometrics."

"You really did have this all planned, didn't you?" Janeway said wistfully, looking up into Seven's eyes. "And I didn't even remember your birthday."

Seven frowned and hugged her closer. "Do not be regretful," she demanded quietly, brushing the fingers of her right hand over the captain's cheek. "This is not a competition between us, nor is it designed to make you feel guilty in any way. Kathryn, I enjoy doing these things for you. Please, accept the love with which they are given."

Janeway smiled and turned her head to kiss the Borg's fingertips. "Sorry, darling. Sometimes I forget how to be gracious. I do appreciate all that you're doing for me, all that you have planned. No one's ever made such an effort for my birthday before."

"Your previous lovers were flawed," Seven noted calmly.

Janeway laughed. "Perhaps they were. I guess that's why I didn't marry any of them."

'It is fortunate. It would have been ... inconvenient for us to deal with a previous marriage once we fell in love."

Janeway blinked, seeming vaguely intrigued by the idea. "So even if I had been married to Mark before Voyager was lost in the Delta Quadrant, you think we still would have fallen in love?"

Seven lifted a brow. "How could we not?"

Janeway took a moment to absorb that. "Perhaps you're right," she allowed contentedly, her head falling to rest in the nook of Seven's neck and shoulder. "Even then, we would have found each other."

Seven was glad Kathryn agreed.

"So was the music box your last gift? The poem is now complete."

Seven hesitated. "The poem is complete," she agreed.

She felt Janeway nuzzle into her neck, kissing it gently.

"That sounded like a hint," Janeway noted, her voice heavy with humor. "There are more gifts, aren't there? How many more?"

"You will have to discover that on your own."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Why should I?" Seven was honestly curious.

"Maybe I could persuade you," Janeway muttered, kissing a line up to the Borg's ear, nibbling at the lobe. "I can be very persuasive."

"Ah, I understand." And she did. Janeway did not really wish to know the answer to her question, she merely wanted to pretend she did, under the guise of making love to her partner. Seven was certainly agreeable to that but she knew that she was required to put on a show of reluctance, a pretense of needing to be convinced.

"I do not think you can be that persuasive," she added obligingly.

"Believe me, once we go back to our quarters, I'll persuade you."

Seven drew back, raising an eyebrow as she regarded her. "Why return to our quarters? Why not persuade me here in your ready room?"

Janeway paused, a surprised expression on her face. "Here? Oh, no, darling. That would be ... inappropriate."

"It is your birthday," Seven said, dropping her tone as she offered up her own form of persuasion. She pulled the woman closer, resting her hand on Janeway's stomach, rubbing gently through the tunic and sweater. "The door is sealed, thus preventing anyone from 'catching us'." She kissed Janeway softly, passionately. "We have yet to make love in the ready room. You have considered it an 'impossible' location but in truth, this is a perfect opportunity to 'cross it off our list'."

Janeway looked halfway convinced, uncertain, yet intrigued at the same time. "Now I know how you enticed those poor boys into playing pool with you. You're becoming far too good at this."

"Does that mean you agree?" Seven whispered.

Janeway shivered in her arms and the Borg wondered if her partner was finally surrendering to that wilder side of herself, the side of Janeway that came out at such unexpected times, yet never disappointed either of them.

"I do have fantasies," the captain admitted reluctantly. "Fantasies that involve you and me and that desk ... but, Annika, we can't."

"Are you sure?" Seven prodded, nibbling along the woman's jaw, to her ear, which she kissed warmly. "Tell me your fantasy."

Janeway swallowed audibly. "Well, it involves our 'accessory'."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Go on."

"You're absolutely incorrigible," Janeway accused her.

Since Seven had also accused her partner of that on many occasions which the captain did not deny ... indeed, rather seemed to take pride in such an assessment ... Seven accepted it the same way.

"Your fantasy? You, me, the ready room, an accessory...."

Janeway tilted her head back to look at her for a moment, a faint pink staining her cheeks. "I ... uh, would be at my desk, working on reports," she explained in a low voice. "It would be late at night, into the gamma shift and you would suddenly appear. You would be completely naked but for the accessory and ... well, obviously ready. Things would progress from there. Oh, god," Janeway said, closing her eyes. "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"Kathryn, I love you," Seven whispered in her ear as she eased her hand under the captain's tunic at the v near the neck, pleased when Janeway did not object. "I want to share everything with you. Tell me the rest. You are working late, and I appear wearing our accessory and nothing else. Where would I appear?"

Janeway inhaled deeply, seeming to relax in Seven's arms as they settled back against the couch, the Borg finding the soft swell of the captain's breast and squeezing it gently.

"You would be behind my chair. I'd only become aware of you when you reached around and touched my breasts."

"Like I am doing now?" Seven asked, chafing the bump that had appeared beneath her palm. The layers of clothing were limiting, yet, at the same time, provided their own source of pleasurable friction.

The captain's voice very soft now. "You'd be using both hands. I wouldn't be able to move. I'd just sit there, too shocked to object as you opened my tunic."

Seven noted that her spouse's had closed her eyes, her head falling back onto the Borg's shoulder, her lips parted as she sipped air through them. The Borg took the opportunity to kiss the soft spot just behind Janeway's ear as she left the captain's breast and unfastened the Starfleet tunic down the front until it fell open to reveal the blue-grey sweater. Reaching down to where it was tucked into Janeway's trousers, she hesitated briefly, then tugged the hem out, pulling it up so that she could put her hand on the captain's warm skin beneath.

Janeway gasped a little at the contact and Seven spread her fingers across the swell of the captain's abdomen.

"Then?" the Borg prompted quietly, rubbing Janeway's belly in slow, sensual circles. "What would we do next?"

Janeway swallowed again. "I would briefly object and you would tell me to be silent. For some reason, I would be compelled to do so, unable to speak as you lifted up my sweater and unfastened my undergarment, so that there would be less restriction to what you were doing."

Obligingly, Seven did so, finding the fastening at the front of the captain's bra and releasing it so that it fell away. The captain was still dressed of course, but things were much roomier now and Seven was able to run her fingers over Janeway's nipples, teasing them, alternating between them as they grew hard beneath her touch.

"Then you would pick me up and lay me over the desk, kicking the chair out of the way," Janeway whispered, almost purring now, her respiration deep and shaky. "I would be face down on the desktop and you would pull down my pants, exposing me. You would touch me then, slipping your fingers into me to see how ready I was ... god, I would be so ready, darling ... so very, very wet ..."

Seven slipped her hand down to the waistband of the captain's trousers, slipping beneath them. Janeway shifted, angling her body toward her partner, drawing up her knee so that it remained upright as she turned sideways. This allowed Seven to worm her hand under the captain's undergarments to the juncture of her legs where she discovered that indeed, Janeway was very, very moist. The captain whimpered as Seven touched her, the Borg's fingers moving over the hard little bump she found there, rubbing it as best she could within the confines of the uniform pants.

"Then you would ... spread my legs and I would feel your ... the wonder wand press against me ... it would feel so big from this angle ... and you would push it inside me ... and you would start to ... oh, god, Annika ... go inside ..."

Seven suspected that would be as much of the fantasy as she was going to get at this time but it was certainly enough to provide her with a clear picture of what Janeway would want should they ever manage to carry out such a scenario. She filed it away in her eidetic memory and concentrated on slipping her fingers into Kathryn, careful not to force too hard though she had to contend with the limited movement. She managed to get two fingers into the tight channel and she curled them toward the top of the pelvis, finding that smooth spot which she began to flex against gently, using her thumb to manipulate the hard little nodule outside. It wasn't the most comfortable position and without question, her hand would become cramped if she continued this for very long but fortunately, she didn't have to, the captain responding immediately. Apparently, the fantasy Janeway had been envisioning had served to arouse her greatly and it took very little time before she was shuddering, seeking out Seven's mouth and groaning into it, the sound muffled by the desperate kiss as her arms wound tightly about the Borg's neck.

Seven held her close as her partner shook helplessly, then finally, as Janeway relaxed, the young woman cradled her spouse gently with her left arm. The fingers of her right remained buried deep in the heat and wetness, and Seven flexed them every so often, just to make the captain twitch.

"Heavens," Janeway murmured when she had finally regained a bit of composure. "How do you convince me to do these things?"

Seven kissed her sweetly. "You do it because you love me."

And also because Janeway enjoyed the illicitness of it tremendously though the captain would never admit that. For some reason, though Janeway always pretended that it was the Borg who somehow forced her into such behavior, Seven ... and anyone who had ever encountered the captain .... knew for a fact that the formidable little redhead could not be forced to do anything she didn't want to do. At least, not and get away with it unscathed afterward. But the Borg allowed the small deception, understanding that it was part of who Janeway was, that she needed to be 'coerced' by Seven on occasion. In any event, Seven enjoyed it as well and she was glad that they could now 'cross off' the ready room from their list of places on Voyager where they had made love.

Of course, Seven also knew that the very next time Janeway was working late, the Borg was going to utilize a site-to-site transport to fulfill the captain's fantasy for real. Whether the ready room had been 'crossed off' or not.

The Klingon finally decided on a sleek, black dress, cut short to show off her legs, sleeveless and low in the front to show off her shoulders and cleavage. She had more casual clothes which would pass, she knew, but since this would be the beginning of her R&R with Ro Laren, she wanted to make a good impression on the Bajoran. Besides, parties for senior staff tended to be a little more formal than the regular celebrations, even if civilian wear, rather than dress uniforms was indicated.

She had barely finished brushing out her hair when the chime to the door sounded. Frowning, wondering who it could be, she went over to it and keyed it open. The slender form of Ro Laren stood in the door, dressed in a black, finely cut, tailored tunic over dark pants. It was probably the best civilian wear the ex-Maquis had and B'Elanna thought she looked absolutely magnificent. She was surprised to see her, however.

"I thought we were going to meet at the party," the engineer said as she stepped aside, motioning the other woman in.

"I know, but I thought I'd ... well, pick you up, instead."

B'Elanna inhaled slowly. "You know, showing up together for something like this will be like announcing something," she noted quietly.

Ro turned to her, her dark eyes making a slow pass over the Klingon, starting at the top of her head, trailing languidly down to her feet, then back up again until they met B'Elanna's suddenly self-conscious gaze. The Bajoran smiled briefly.

"I know. Do you object?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "Not if you don't."

"You look wonderful," Ro added, casually and for that reason, it meant more somehow.

It took every iota of Klingon strength not to blush. "Thank you." B'Elanna tilted her head. "You look pretty damned good, yourself."

Ro inclined her head graciously at the compliment, seeming pleased, but handling it with her customary aplomb. B'Elanna wished she had a more extensive vocabulary and didn't always sound like what she was ... an engineer. At least she hadn't been vulgar, she consoled herself. Like saying the woman looked good enough to eat and she would be glad to right now, if Ro happened to have a spare moment.

The Bajoran lifted her head. "It's still early. Would you like to have a drink or something before we go? I know there'll be plenty of food but I'm not entirely sure about the refreshments at a senior staff party."

"Actually," B'Elanna said as she went over to the replicator, "Heaven knows what it'll be like. Seven's doing all the arranging even if Neelix is doing all the work. It could be anything from a kid's party like the one for Naomi to a formal dinner party." She glanced back at the Bajoran who had taken a seat at the small glass table in the corner. "What would you like?"

"Nothing too strong," Ro said, folding her hands neatly on the table. "A Bajoran spring wine, though I know it won't taste as good as the bottle Seven provided the first time we had lunch with her and the captain."

"Replicated liquids never do," B'Elanna said, spending the extra rations gladly. Liquor, of course, was considered a luxury and was not included in the food allowance that was unlimited at the moment thanks to the ship being at optimum performance. She replicated herself an ale and carried both glasses back to the table. "I'm sorry about this," she added as she sat down. "I really wanted to start our ... time off as soon as my duty shift ended."

Ro nodded. "I understand, and honestly, now that I've been bumped up to bridge duty, I think I'm expected to attend as well. Certainly, Seven seemed to think so when I ran into her today." She paused, and looked somewhat bemused. "She made me put some presents in her quarters."

B'Elanna laughed. "She got me to lure the captain down to engineering so Janeway could find one this morning. Seven really likes birthdays. I think it's because she missed so many in the Collective."

Ro shrugged. "I'm the other way. I have no interest in them at all.  I don't believe I ever celebrated one in my life."

That made B'Elanna's heart twinge as it always did whenever Ro touched on her rather tragic childhood. The Klingon had thought her youth had been a trial, but when she compared it to the Bajoran who had lived through horrors B'Elanna could only have nightmares about, the Klingon realized she really had very little to complain about in her life. She vowed then and there to find out when Ro's birthday was and make it a special day, just as Seven had done for Janeway. Obviously, she wouldn't have the replicator rations that the Borg had cleaned out of Paris and company ... B'Elanna had almost laughed herself sick when she heard that one, as well as making a bit of a tidy profit, being one of the few people who had wagered on Seven in the final match against the ship's resident pool shark, Lt. Hickman ... but she did have enough tucked away to give Ro something to remember.

"I celebrated as a kid," B'Elanna allowed. "But as I got older, I started ignoring them."

"That does seem to be how it works out."

B'Elanna realized they were filling the time with small talk, neither of them wanting to discuss what was really on their minds. Their looks at each other grew more lingering as they sipped their drinks, their eyes communicating what they couldn't seem to express verbally. B'Elanna discovered it was becoming somewhat difficult to breathe.

"You know," she offered, swallowing hard. "We don't have to go to this party."

Ro smiled at her ruefully. "Yes, we do." She quirked an eyebrow. "But there's nothing that says we have to stay for the entire thing."

B'Elanna found herself nodding like a marionette and forced herself to stop. "Just until the captain blows out the candles."

Ro ran her finger lightly over the rim of her wineglass. "I was wondering, did you have anything concrete planned for this R&R? Something specific that you wanted us to do?"

With the images that question provoked, B'Elanna thought her head might just have to explode, spewing bone shards and grey matter all over the room. Her heart was pounding hard, sending the blood racing so hotly through her veins, it was a wonder it wasn't spurting out her ears.

"Uh, not particularly," she managed calmly. "I thought it would be nice to ... stay in. In my quarters, I mean," she added belatedly.

"Well, we certainly can't stay in mine," Ro allowed dryly. "Unless you also want to spend time with Dorado."

"Did you have anything ... in mind?" B'Elanna asked thickly, through a throat that seemed unusually full. "Maybe a 'trip' in the holodeck or something?"

Ro shook her head. "No, staying in sounds ... fine." Her eyes met B'Elanna's and the Klingon thought she would burst into flames from the sheer intensity of the gaze, the heat that radiated palpably in it.

Did I really think, B'Elanna asked herself weakly, that I'd be too much for her? Maybe I need to worry if I'll survive the next two days.

She was keenly aware of the Bajoran with every sense she had, her eyes locked on those exquisite cheekbones, that marvelously deep and dark gaze while her ears strained to pick up the soft whisper of her respiration, the way Ro's fingertip squeaked lightly over the glass. B'Elanna licked her bottom lip inadvertently and could almost taste the flavor of the Bajoran's skin, the rich, fullness of her mouth, imagining what her more intimate essence would be like. Her cheeks flamed at the thought, her flesh tingling at the other's proximity, enjoying how the tanned skin moved over the Bajoran's smooth, whipcord muscles. As B'Elanna inhaled deeply, she could smell the spicey scent which was so much part of Ro, evocative, luring, the fragrance of enticement and implied promise.

"I think," Ro said in an unsteady tone, "that we should go to the party now."

B'Elanna had to clear her throat before she could speak. "That's..." she began, paused as she lost her train of thought, finally found it again and continued. "Probably a good idea."

Forcing herself to move, B'Elanna picked up her mostly untouched ale and carried it over to the recycler where she dumped it out and stuck the glass in the unit. Ro was right behind her with her own glass and when the Klingon turned around, she almost ran into her.

"Sorry," Ro said softly.

"My fault," B'Elanna whispered.

Neither moved. B'Elanna could feel the heat radiating from Ro's body, like a brush of wind over every millimeter of her skin. It was like standing in front of an unshielded warp core, bathing in the radiation that threatened to immolate her.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Ro said in a low voice.

"You can't," B'Elanna warned. "Because if you do..."

"Neither of us are going anywhere," Ro finished for her.

"I promised Seven I would be there," B'Elanna said helplessly. It was completely out of her hands. One touch, one move, and she would forget everything, including the promise to her friend.

"I think I did, too." Somehow Ro was even closer, her lips barely beyond B'Elanna's nose, though the Klingon had not seen her move. The Bajoran took a deep breath. "When I delivered those presents," Ro added belatedly.

"I don't like ... letting Seven down," B'Elanna whispered. "Or the captain."

"No, I don't want to let down the captain."

Moving very slowly, Ro handed B'Elanna her empty glass and backed away. B'Elanna almost collapsed, her knees feeling like absolute jelly, barely able to keep her upright. What the hell is happening to me? she thought desperately as she turned and placed the glass in the recycler. She took a moment to regain her composure, then turned to look at Ro who was standing there in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, as if to warm herself against a sudden chill.

"This is insane," B'Elanna said, and wished she hadn't.

"I know," Ro responded immediately, to the Klingon's relief. "I think about you all the time. Even Tuvok's noticed. I got the feeling he was testing me this morning, trying to see if I still have my focus."

B'Elanna wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or something.

"Do you?"

Ro grinned crookedly. "Enough to surprise him, but the rest of the time, I honestly don't know." She looked lost, suddenly. "I don't know what's going on. I've never felt this way before."

"Like you feel like you're going to crawl out of your skin any moment?" B'Elanna offered, unable to keep from staring at the woman.

Ro returned her scrutiny. "Yes," she said softly. "As if my life isn't complete until I see you, as if any second, I'm going to explode into a million pieces and all of them will be lost unless you put them together again."

B'Elanna hesitated, then drew up every gram of courage she possessed. "I've been in love before. At least, I believed it was love, but it wasn't anything like this. This is ... it's more than I've ever imagined."

Ro swallowed hard. "I don't think ... I've ever been in love before," she said in a small voice. "Not really."

The Klingon held her breath. "And now?" Not sure she was ready for the answer.

There was silence, Ro's eyes wide, a white rim around the dark centers.

"I ... I don't know, but if I am, it's definitely with you."

A thousand and one responses blasted through the engineer's mind at that second, but none that seemed truly significant enough. So instead, she reached out her hand and drew the Bajoran to her. Their lips touched, tentatively at first, then deeper, capturing and surrendering utterly, seeking out the passion within even as they drew back, afraid of its demand. B'Elanna thought that if she died this second, it would still be enough that she was in this woman's arms, kissing her so deeply, caught up in emotions that no longer needed to be hidden or contained or denied.

"Seven to Lt. Torres."

The call came over the Klingon's comm badge that was fixed to the dress on B'Elanna's left breast. She eased away from Ro who was trembling and reached up, tapping the golden, metal insignia gently.

"Go ahead." Her voice was completely even, remarkably calm.

"B'Elanna, may I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"I left the crew's present to the captain in astrometrics. Would you be able to retrieve it on your way to the party?"

"Not a problem," B'Elanna responded pleasantly and cut communication.

Ro was staring at her, and B'Elanna inhaled deeply.

"You're not going to curse?" The Bajoran seemed uncertain."Or throw things?"

B'Elanna considered it.

"I want to destroy something," she admitted quietly. "I want to dismantle this whole ship just so it won't interrupt us ever again."

"But?" Ro looked a little concerned.

B'Elanna smiled gently. "It's energy that I can use for a much better purpose, after we get back from the party."

Ro quirked an eyebrow and smiled herself, apparently understanding completely. She offered her arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's," B'Elanna said and took it, linking her arm in Ro's and entwining her fingers with the long, sensitive ones of the Bajoran's hand, aware that if they went through the corridors like this, nothing would be secret any longer ... if indeed, there had been any secret to begin with.

But neither woman released their hold as they left the chief engineer's quarters.

Janeway had no clue where her partner was at the moment, not having laid eyes on her since Seven had left the ready room earlier in the day. The captain had felt pleasantly sinful after their loving encounter and actually indulged herself further by taking a brief nap on the couch after Seven had gone. When she finally returned to her quarters after logging off duty, she discovered the rest of her presents, three piled neatly in the center of the bed and one resting on the nightstand and she spent several minutes deciding whether she should open them or wait for her partner instead. She finally found the card that instructed her that it was necessary that three of them be opened before the party and once she had unwrapped them, she discovered why. Now she was bathed, powdered and primped royally for the festivities and the only thing remaining was for her date to pick her up ... as Seven had indicated she would, in her note.

Perching on the stool next to the kitchenette counter in the living area, Janeway looked at the final present wrapped in Starfleet blue paper, a silver bow on the top. It felt like a book and she removed the paper to discover that was exactly what it was. The cover was plain, a picture of a nebula with the words The Mysteries of the Space Time Continuum Revealed in big silver letters over top. Dr. Ronald D. Mullen was in smaller letters at the bottom and Janeway wondered what would possess Seven to give her such a thing because of course, any book like this would be centuries out of date. Nor would anyone would make such a grandiose claim in the 23rd century. She drew back the cover and saw an inscription on the inside in Seven's perfectly formed letters.

Janeway turned to the title page and suddenly everything was clear. The actual name of the book was Love's Last Refuge by Tiffany Marie Bellini and going further into the first chapter, Janeway was able to skim a description of a mystery manor on the cliff side overlooking the heaving swells of the ocean by a young ingenue who apparently had some heaving swells of her own.

Amused, Janeway laughed and shut the book, shaking her head at her partner who had developed such a dry and somewhat wicked sense of humor over the past year or so. She looked up as the hiss of the door alerted her to the arrival of Seven and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the young woman.

The Borg was garbed in the blue dress that she had received on her birthday a few months earlier. It clung to her figure even as it flowed gracefully about the gloriously long legs tucked into matching sandals. The thick, blonde hair was down, falling about the narrow features freely, and her pale blue eyes seemed to capture both sky and sea at once, warmed by the love and joy at seeing her beloved spouse. Seven was holding a solitary white rose and she raised her hand, presenting it to the captain.

"Oh, Annika," Janeway whispered, accepting the rose, her eyes full as she stared at the young woman. She had thought her gift would look good on the other woman when she chose it, but she had not anticipated just how incredible Seven appeared in it.

Seven seemed shy, yet pleased, pink dusting her cheeks.

"Is my appearance acceptable?"

"Darling, you are exquisite," Janeway assured her. This day just kept getting better and better and she wondered how on Earth Seven would ever be able to top it the next year. "Are we going to the party now or are you going to let me bask in the sight of you for an hour or so?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "We can take a few moments," she allowed as she leaned against the counter next to the captain. She put her hand on Janeway's waist and bent forward. "You look very beautiful as well, my Kathryn," she said softly, brushing her lips sweetly over those of her spouse. "That dress becomes you."

"You have very good taste," Janeway complimented her. "Thank you my darling, for all my gifts. They are, each and every one of them, absolutely wonderful, I don't know how I can ever express how much they mean to me."

"There is no need to thank me, Kathryn," Seven said seriously, her eyes intent. "If I could make every day like this for you, I would. I worry that sometimes I do not convey how I feel for you, that I am limited in my ability to communicate how much I love you."

Janeway reached up and cupped the woman's cheek in her palm, smiling at her wistfully. "You are not limited at all, my sweet. Every moment of every day, I feel your love." She pulled her closer and kissed her gently, lingering on the Borg's mouth, taking the seconds needed to taste her fully. Seven returned the kiss and when they finally parted, Janeway's heart was pounding pleasantly.

"We have to go, love," she said, with a small laugh. "Otherwise, we're not going to get there at all."

"That would be ... unacceptable," Seven allowed, smiling faintly. "Many are already present in the messhall. They would be disappointed if we were ... not to appear."

"Then, let's not keep them waiting." Janeway tucked Seven's arm warmly under her own and together, the couple sailed out of their quarters and toward the turbolift.

Seven was right, Janeway thought moments later as they entered the messhall already full of people, the party obviously in full swing. Of course, to allow the beta shift to celebrate a little before heading off to duty, chances were the whole thing had started before Janeway had even left her ready room that afternoon. Maybe even when she and Seven had been on the couch ... Janeway quickly squelched that line of thought, hoping her face had remained impassive.

"Captain," Chakotay said, smiling. "You look incredible. You both do."

"Thank you, Commander." Janeway felt Seven untangle her arm and drift away in the direction of where a few couples had their new babies present. She looked after the young woman thoughtfully for a second, then turned her attention to her first officer. "By the way, Chakotay, thank you for taking over this afternoon. It was a lovely gift."

"As long as you took advantage of it," he responded and almost, but not quite, winked at her. She moved closer so that their bodies would conceal it and punched him with a bony fist to the ribs, making him laugh and wheeze for breath at the same time, which made her laugh, too. Somewhere along the line, she discovered, he had become like a brother to her. They could still fight over issues, sometimes nastily, but when it was all said and done, she knew she could rely on him and that was all that mattered.

Tom Paris appeared, handing her a glass full of whiskey and soda. "Happy Birthday, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She held the glass but didn't sip from it. For one thing, she was hungry, not having eaten since that wonderful lunch, and for another, she was absolutely determined not to become inebriated this evening, accidentally or otherwise. She drifted over to the buffet table where Neelix and two other crewmembers were busy keeping all the dishes full. She frowned briefly over the selection, trying some cheese puffs before attempting to fill her plate and was astonished to find them absolutely tremendous. Her eyes met Neelix's and he grinned.

"Wonderful," she told him honestly. "Well done, Neelix."

The Delta Quadrant native glanced around, then leaned forward confidentially. "Actually, Captain, though I did all the cooking, Seven decided on the menu and provided me with very exacting recipes. I didn't even know she had an interest in such things, but apparently they're a hit with the crew. I've never received so many compliments."

Janeway caught her breath. She had known that Seven had volunteered to help in the party preparations for the new babies, but suddenly she wondered if perhaps there was something larger at work here. She recognized many of her favorite dishes in the selection now and that made her a little cautious. "We'll just keep that just between us, Mr. Neelix."

He nodded. "That's what Seven told me as well. I feel somewhat guilty about accepting all the compliments, however, Captain."

"Please don't, Neelix," she assured him. "You did do the cooking, after all. And Seven becomes so uncomfortable when she's the center of attention. You know how she doesn't like being singled out. It takes her back to her time when she first arrived on the ship."

He looked thoughtful and concerned. "You're correct, Captain. I should have realized that. My lips are sealed."

Vaguely reassured by this promise to keep Seven's implied talent with food a secret, the captain loaded up a plate as Neelix scurried back to the kitchen to get more lasagna. She found a seat at the table where most of the senior staff had gathered, including Seven who had prepared her own plate. As she did, her eye was caught by the appearance of B'Elanna Torres and Ro Laren, arm in arm, obviously making a statement about being a couple now. Janeway was surprised the two had made it official in such a public way, but certainly, they made a lovely pair, both dark and beautiful, both moving with a sense of contained power and assurance. She wondered if they had entered the messhall that way.

Janeway glanced at Seven and saw that she had noticed as well. The captain reached under the table and nudged the Borg with her foot.

"Yes?" Seven remarked quietly, turning her head to look at her spouse.

"Did you know they were coming together?"

"No." Seven paused, considering it. "But I have been busy today."

Janeway quirked an eyebrow, acknowledging that otherwise, Seven would have found out somehow. "It's a lovely party, darling," she assured her. "The food is absolutely delicious."

"Neelix prepared it.".

"I know," the captain said and they smiled faintly at each other, before returning to their meal.

In addition to the lasagna, there was a seafood dish, a beef and potato dish, and a large chicken and vegetable stirfry with egg rolls, salad, rice and a variety of breads for side dishes. Janeway noticed that most of the crew made a point of taking a little of everything from the buffet. It was worrisome.

"Jeez," Tom Paris said, returning with a second plateful stacked high. "If Neelix could cook like this all along, then why the hell didn't he?"

Janeway felt a further touch of alarm, particularly when Seven looked up. "It is the fault of Voyager's crew."

The helmsman looked at her blankly. "How?"

"The Talaxian taste buds are quite different than Human. If someone had provided him with proper recipes and impressed upon him the need to stick with them, he would have always cooked like this. Instead, he tried to make Talaxian meals and adapt them for Human sensibilities. It must have been extremely difficult for him to have to do it by trial and error since he could not taste the finished product the way you all did."

"Are you saying that we could have been eating like this all along?" Tom was looking at her with honest horror.

"If anyone on the ship had taken the time to assist him in judging flavors, yes. I suspect that most consider 'cooking' an insignificant duty rather than an artform and could not understand why he was having so much difficulty with it. But no one made the effort to discover the skill themselves and assist him."

"So," Janeway said pointedly, hoping to end the conversation. "We got what we deserved."

"But why's it suddenly so good?" Tom persisted and Janeway resisted the urge to slap him across the head. "Don't tell me he learned it while working in engineering."

"Because I provided him with recipes I ... acquired," Seven replied, hesitating as she tried to answer with revealing anything, yet not able to lie convincingly. "By insisting that he adhere to the ingredients and measurements precisely, this is the result."

"No one else ever took the time to find some Human recipes for him," Chakotay chimed in helpfully. "Or assist him in determining which alien food items were suitable for replacing the various ingredients called for in the original recipe." He glanced at the captain and grinned. "You're right, Captain, we did get what we deserved. Cooking is a lost art in this age of replicators, but in our case, it cost us a few years of less than appealing food."

"Neelix was undoubtedly done a disservice every time we complained. I trust we'll all remember that in the future." She returned to her meal, hoping no one else would pick up the conversational ball.

"Where did you find the recipes, Seven?" Megan Delaney asked shyly.

Janeway bit her lip. Of all the people at the table, the captain really did not want to cut the young woman off. By virtue of her marriage to Harry, Megan had suddenly found herself pressed into the personal interaction of the senior staff, a prospect which could be daunting when such a social circle included the captain. But Janeway desperately did not want the conversation to continue on this path much longer and she tried hard to think of a way to change the subject without it being apparent ... or causing the young woman to feel slighted in any way.

Seven regarded Megan evenly. "When I was returned to the Alpha Quadrant with B'Elanna and Chakotay, I met Kathryn's mother and she gave them to me. I have them all in a padd. I thought that for the captain's birthday, it would be suitable for Neelix to attempt to reproduce some of them."

Janeway regarded her spouse admiringly. Seven had not lied at all but still managed to leave out any indication that she had mastered most of the recipes she possessed. Hopefully that would be the end of it.

"Do you like to cook, Seven?" Harry asked curiously.

Janeway wondered why the hell there wasn't a red alert when she needed one.

"I have attempted certain of the recipes."

"And they were wonderful," Janeway said heartily, patting her comfortingly on the hand. "You did your best, Seven."

The Borg was bemused when the rest of the people at the table smiled and obligingly changed the subject. It was as if the captain had implied something that the rest simply accepted. Of course, Chakotay and Tuvok were quite conversant with the Borg's ability in the kitchen but others at the table, like Harry and Tom, really did not have had their queries answered in a satisfactory manner. Seven considered it carefully, then realized that by using the inflection that she had, Janeway had given the impression that the Borg's attempts had been greatly unsuccessful, but that she would not encourage anyone to suggest differently to the Borg. It was the most amazing lie Seven had ever encountered, mostly because Janeway had not uttered one untruthful word. It was all based on the perception of the others.

She glanced at her spouse curiously and Janeway offered her a smile. Seven  filed it away in her memory  for when she could bring this up at another time with the captain.

"Enough room for us?"

Seven glanced up to see B'Elanna and Ro join the table, Chakotay and Tuvok shifting their chairs to provide a space for the engineer and the security officer. The Borg noticed that the two women made a point of sitting very close together and that once they were settled, they kept looking at each other, almost oblivious to anything else that was going on. Tom Paris seemed to lose his appetite suddenly and he picked up his half-filled plate, quietly leaving the table to move over to another where a great many female crewmembers were laughing and talking, obviously glad to admit him to their company.

Seven, herself, discovered that she could not look at the chief of engineering and the security officer for very long without becoming  uncomfortable. It wasn't that the two women were doing anything in particular. In fact, they weren't even touching, but the way they continued to look at each other, the methods with which they offered each other different bites of food from their meal, were so evocative and sensual, that Seven felt as if she was intruding. She glanced around the table and realized that the rest of the senior staff were equally pointed in avoiding any observation of the women. She decided that it was not surprising that Tom Paris had moved elsewhere. Though the helmsman's relationship with the engineer was over, the Borg knew there were still feelings that lingered within him and if she was discomforted by the sight of the women, it must be sheer agony for him.

She felt a nudge under the table and glanced at the captain, knowing it was Janeway's knee which was bumping into hers unseen. She quirked an eyebrow and Janeway leaned close to her, lowering her voice.

"We used to look like that."

Seven considered it. "No, we did not, at least, not in public."

Chakotay, overhearing, cleared his throat. "Believe her, Seven, you did. Especially when you didn't think you did."

Seven blinked. This bit of information was surprising and she wasn't entirely sure she could trust it.

"And you know the worst part? At least, for those of us who are single? You two still look like that sometimes."

"Indeed," Seven said slowly, while Janeway blushed a little.

"Your problem, my friend," the captain told him, "is that you just haven't found the right woman yet. That's why you pay too much attention to what we look like. We're just going to have to find you a partner."

He looked very wary suddenly. "Thank you, Captain, but I think I can look after that very nicely on my own."

"You've certainly done so well up until now," the captain told him sweetly.

He showed her his teeth. "We're not all as adventurous as you, Captain, and I really don't think I want to have to challenge the Borg Collective to find my future wife."

"No?"

He laughed. "I think it's time to change the subject."

Seven, listening to this with interest, finding the interaction between the two to be a little different now. Janeway must have decided that she simply was not going to take the first officer's teasing any longer and was responding with her own form of needling. Apparently, Chakotay was finding himself well matched and on more than one occasion, needed to make strategic withdrawals, much as he just had.

The conversation around the table switched to other things, and Seven finished her meal, content to listen rather than join in. She found that observing the rest who seemed to be enjoying themselves tremendously, allowed her a sense of accomplishment. It was intriguing, she thought, that where once she had found social interaction like this baffling and without purpose, now she could actually initiate it. She had come so far in her time on Voyager, evolved so much with the love of Kathryn to guide her.

After finishing their dinner, the senior staff left the table, giving way to the next group of people who wanted to eat. On the other side of the messhall, a conversation area with couches and chairs had been set up and many of Seven's dining companions joined the Doctor and Sek who were holding court there, along with other crewmembers, including Ensign Samantha Wildman and her daughter, Naomi. Seven immediately found herself drawn into the discussion regarding the additions that biometrics wished to introduce to the ship's arboretum, pleased when Naomi left her place near her mother and moved over to sit with the Borg.

At one point, she glanced over at her spouse who was laughing at something that Harry and Megan was saying, and the Borg was intrigued when Megan handed the captain the couple's new baby. A soft expression on her face, Janeway supported the small form, his tiny fists waving in her face and for just a second, Seven's heart hurt so much, she thought it would stop beating entirely.

Janeway looked up and her blue-grey eyes met Seven's longing gaze.

"Come over here," she requested quietly.

Seven blinked, then obediently slipped over to sit next to her spouse who promptly handed her the tiny lifeform, showing her how to hold him so that his head was supported and that he was cradled safely in her arms. It was the first time Seven had ever held a baby, and astounded, she looked down into the little face who regarded her gravely, obviously not knowing what or who she was, yet not ready to cry over it.

"I think he likes you," Harry noted.

"C'mon," Tom Paris interjected. "What guy wouldn't want to be held in Seven's arms?"

It occurred to Seven that Tom had been imbibing perhaps a little more than he should but she decided that she shouldn't necessarily comment on it. In any event, she was far too captivated by the tiny being wiggling in her arms.

"As long as it's the captain who puts him there," Harry told his friend dryly.

"Precisely correct, Lieutenant." Janeway  cast a foreboding look upon Tom and the helmsman seemed to realize it was time for him to switch to fruit juice. Janeway returned her attention to Seven. "How do you feel?" she asked, in a much softer voice.

Seven swallowed. "Afraid. I have superior reflexes yet I am concerned that any movement will cause me to drop him."

"Maybe I'd better take him," Harry noted with a grin.

Despite her concerns, Seven felt reluctant to give up the baby, but she did, handing him with exquisite care to the young man. Her arms felt strangely empty afterward and she looked to her partner who seemed to read what the Borg was experiencing. The captain patted her comfortingly on the knee.

"One day," she murmured.

"Yes," Seven responded. "One day."

They shared a look that communicated volumes, then Seven had to turn away as Naomi came over and tugged on the young woman's sleeve. Obligingly, the Borg leaned closer so that the child could whisper in her ear.

"Is it time?" the little girl asked anxiously.

"Yes." Seven smiled faintly as Naomi immediately scurried away in the direction of Neelix's kitchen. The child had been assigned a very important task by the Borg and obviously, she was keen to carry it out to the absolute best of her ability.

"What was that about?" Janeway muttered suspiciously.

Seven promptly got up from her seat, pretending she had not heard the captain's question. She was, however, extremely aware of the captain's gaze following her across the room. She found B'Elanna and Ro sitting at a table for two in the corner, staring into each other's eyes. Seven attempted not to roll her own as she interrupted them.

"B'Elanna?" She was forced to address her a second time. "Lt. Torres."

Blinking, B'Elanna looked up at her. "Uh, hi, Seven. Great party."

Since the two women had not been paying any attention whatsoever to what was going on around them, Seven was uncertain how the Klingon could offer such an opinion, but she chose