What if, in the episode Night, something went wrong, and Captain Janeway didn't accept her crew's rebellion so easily? How far would one of them go to keep her on board? The story takes place on the Bridge, when all of her senior staff was present. WAFF warning.
SPOILERS: None. Well, except maybe for the references to the episode Night in the summary. Minor reference to the episode Hope and Fear.
DISCLAIMERS: Don't own the show, don't own the franchise, don't own the song. I'm not making any money with this story, so please don't sue.
BETA READER: Singing Violin. Thanks for keeping up with my recent bout of manic writing. You're too good for me;)
A/N: Well, I've been working on and tweaking this one for a while before finally deciding it was suitable for publication. I hope you like it.
This was inspired by Jordin Sparks' and Chris Brown's hit duet No Air.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the song, I have included the relevant portion of the lyrics.
I also highly recommend that you check it out on youtube; it's a very beautiful song ;)
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
If I should
die before I wake
It's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing
you is like living in a world without air
I'm here alone, didn't
wanna leave
My heart won't move, it's incomplete
Is there
another way I can make you understand?
(Hook)
But how
Do you
expect me, to live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves
around you
It's so hard for me to breathe
(Chorus)
Tell me how I'm
supposed to breathe with no air?
Can't live, can't breathe
with no air
That's how I feel whenever you ain't there
There's
no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how
you gon' live without me?
If you ain't here, I just can't
breathe
There's no air, no air
"I'm going, Seven. You all have to leave me behind and continue your journey towards Earth. It's best for everyone."
"Not for me," Seven replied boldly. Even she had never dared speak to the captain this way in front of her crew, but at this point, what did she have to lose? She decided to reveal everything. "I… I will not survive without you. You have stated on several occasions that my welfare is important to you. If that is still the case, then you must remain on Voyager… for me. Please." As usual when Seven said it, the simple word please took on whole new worlds of meaning. But this did nothing to diminish Janeway's resolve. "What do you mean, you won't survive without me? A year ago, when we thought we were going home in a quantum slipstream, you were ready to cast away alone in a shuttlecraft. You had every intention of 'surviving' without me then."
"I was foolish. And I was not yet suffering from my current condition." Say what? Hearing that her protégée was ill, Kathryn immediately felt a gnawing panic rising in her gut. Willing herself to remain calm, she inquired, "What condition is that, Seven?"
"I believe that, sometime during the last three months, I have been exposed to some form of alien bio-agent, most likely while I was in your presence. As a result, I have developed a bio-chemical dependence to your continued physical proximity to my body." Wait--whaaat? Janeway looked to the doctor, but he looked as shocked as she felt. He shrugged and shook his head, confirming to her that he had no idea what Seven was talking about. She then glanced in Tom Paris's direction, on the off-chance that he had been the only one on duty if and when Seven had visited Sickbay, but the part-time medic just raised his hands, adding, "Don't look at me."
Understanding her commanding officer's silent query, Seven clarified, "I have not sought any medical help in this matter. As our duties often make it necessary for us to work in close proximity, I did not feel I was in any immediate danger. Also… I was embarrassed about my condition. I believed that if I did sufficient research in the biometrics lab, I would eventually devise a method of treatment on my own. But, so far, I have been unsuccessful in isolating the specific agents that are causing these reactions in my body." Okay… one step at a time, Kathryn. You just have to take this one, logical step at a time. "Seven… would you rather we discuss this matter in private?" she offered.
"Will that make it easier for you to deny my request?" Whoa, girl. "No," Janeway answered firmly. "I just thought you might be more comfortable if--" The increasingly panicking Seven never gave her a chance to finish her sentence. She cut her off, frantically jumping from one thought to the next. "To deny me would be to sentence me to my death. You do not understand the severity of my symptoms." When Janeway shook her head to try and clear it, the young woman interpreted the gesture as a sign of disbelief. This of course raised her level of panic exponentially. She confessed to everything.
"When you approach me, the muscles in my abdomen clench tightly, and remain tense as long as we are in the same room. But when you leave, they stretch and push abruptly, causing me to experience sudden bouts of nausea. If we have been apart for more than 24 hours, I become unable to consume even the minimal nutritional supplements that are normally required to sustain me." These revelations caused the small voice that had been slumbering in Janeway's subconscious mind to slowly rise to her consciousness. "Seven-" she tried, but her astrometrics officer wasn't done. If anything, she was becoming even more agitated.
"This condition had also affected my nervous system and menisci. If, when I see you, you have somehow changed your appearance, even in a most subtle way, the nerves in my lower body become unstable and my patellar ligaments weaken, causing my 'knees' to buck. Yet further proof that my physiological well-being rests on the constancy of your own physiology." That little voice in the back of Janeway's mind suddenly got a little louder. "Seven-" she tried again, but the younger woman only grew more frightenened.
"In addition, my synaptic functions have become disorganized. I find that I am no longer able to focus on a single subject. The neural processes necessary to complete a task in a continuous and efficient manner are constantly being interrupted by thoughts and images associated with you, your functions aboard this vessel, or your interactions with me. I have even found myself experiencing images of events that have never occurred in reality. I fear that I might soon begin to hallucinate if I cannot isolate the source of this problem." The voice was screaming now, and Janeway's reeling mind was scrambling to keep up with what it was saying. "Seven-" The captain's tone was much firmer this time, and she even took a step towards the young woman, but she was stopped dead in her tracks. From the Borg's beautiful blue eyes, made wide by fear, streamed delicate pearly tears. She was crying. Seven was actually crying. Over her.
When she noticed the captain staring in disbelief, Seven angrily wiped the moisture from her cheeks. "It appears my optical implants are also malfunctioning," she snapped. Then, perhaps believing she still hadn't convinced the captain, or perhaps because, now that she had begun, she felt the need to purge herself completely, she continued her accounts in a trembling voice.
"That is not all, Captain. My lung capacity has been greatly diminished as well. I have analyzed the sensors and environmental controls in Cargo Bay Two; they are functioning within normal parameters. And yet, when I am there, especially when I know you are asleep or otherwise unavailable to me, I find it increasingly difficult to breathe. My respirations become so labored that this induces in me a state of acute 'longing,' and anxiety. I must then search the database for something pertaining to you: your public Starfleet records, annals from Bloomington, Indiana… Even studying the history of coffee has been known to facilitate my intake of oxygen. This is the only remedy I have found, apart from your nearby presence, that helps alleviate my symptoms. If you leave Voyager permanently… I am afraid that my body will reject my surrounding environment completely. I will essentially be living in a world without air." She could barely finish her sentence; she was actually sobbing now.
Endeared beyond words, Captain Janeway started walking towards her protégée again. She was startled when the young Borg apparently lost the feeling of her legs. "Seven," she began again, gently. Still believing that her superior officer was angry with her, Seven's knees only bucked harder, causing her to slump unceremoniously to the floor. "Look at me," Janeway asked, her tone imprinted with more tenderness than anyone had ever heard in her voice before. The former drone only sobbed harder. Kathryn crept closer. "Seven, Sweetheart--" her voice left her then, so the last affectionate word only came out as a whisper. The younger woman looked up, uncertain. "I--" Kathryn was crying too now, making it hard for her to articulate the words. It was as if the air around her had suddenly gotten thinner.
Seven sniffed. She simply looked at her captain, waiting for her to decide her fate. Kathryn finally reached her and crouched down to her level. "Oh, Seven…" She raised her hand to delicately cup her protégée's chin. "I think I've got a cure for that disease of yours," she hiccupped. When Seven frowned, adorably expressing both her confusion and her hope, Janeway laughed. Cradling her face with both hands now, she brought the young woman's lips to hers. And the hell with the peanut gallery.
This action earned the captain some all-around gasping and gaping from her audience, including one particularly crestfallen look from her first officer, but she was too busy to notice. Seven's mouth had softly yielded under hers, and her lips had instinctively parted so that Kathryn could now begin to show her the true meaning of intimacy. She took her time, gently introducing Seven to the joys of human love.
When they finally parted, Janeway contemplated her beloved's face, wallowing in the love she saw shining there and in the miracle that it was such a perfect reflection of her own. "Well?" she finally asked. She watched the first lights of understanding dawn in Seven's eyes. Composing herself, the young Borg considered the matter carefully, as if giving herself an internal check-up. "I find that, mentally, I am completely focused on my analysis of your cure, which I found quite… pleasurable. My nausea has completely subsided, the muscles in my abdomen have relaxed, and my body feels more energized than I have ever experienced, even during one of our velocity matches. However," the ex-drone concluded, "my lungs have not yet fully recovered. It would seem that I am still 'out of breath.' "
Janeway laughed. Something told her it would be quite a while before either of them could breathe normally again.
So, what did you think? Did you like it? Was it as sweet and lovely as I hoped it would be?