Disclaimer: Oh, wait. Dang. You got me. Yes, I own Janeway and Seven of Nine. What are you going to do? I've got a blonde who can assimilate you and a red-head who will make you feel two-inches tall without laying a finger on you. What do you have?

Author's Note: Recommended, but not necessary that you read 'Her Favorite Color' first. This little-un' should make sense without it.

To Singing Violin: Thank you for the beta. This was the last one, I promise.

To Oystercatcher1: I hope that this 'requisite maudlin sentimentality' is to your linking, but please, contain yourself, woman. This isn't slutty smash yet ;) [But I hope you approve of the ending, it's taken from something I'm pretty sure you've seen...]

Enjoy. :)

Seven bit her bottom lip, trying to maintain an air of calm as she considered what Kathryn Janeway had just told her. Obviously, her efforts were not enough.

"Seven, what's wrong?" Kathryn set her coffee cup down on the table and tenderly clasped the left hand of the young woman.

The blonde looked down at their entwined hands and noted that the captain was the one person she had encountered who would touch her metal-encased left hand without cringing first. That thought gave her the strength she needed to say what was on her mind.

"I'm afraid that I… lied."

"Lied?" Kathryn frowned. "What about?"

The two women had been talking about Seven's early days on Voyager, and had gotten onto the topic of Annika Hansen's favorite color. The way that Kathryn's eyes had glazed over remembering the moment when Seven had told her that it had been red did not go unnoticed by the younger woman, but she had said nothing about it.

"I could not recall Annika Hansen's favorite color," muttered Seven, whose gaze was still fixed on their hands. "So I said the first color that came to mind. The color that I wanted it to be, and you were wearing your uniform at the time."

Kathryn, still holding Seven's hand tightly, reached out with her other hand to raise the former Borg's chin so she could look directly into the younger woman's eyes, which sparkled like warm ice. She could recall the first time she met Seven after the Doctor had restored her human appearance, in fact it was a moment that was forever etched into her memory.

"Seven, I have something important to say to you." Now it was the older woman's turn to avoid the other's gaze. Surely I can tell her this now, can't I? I have known her for almost four years! "That moment I first saw you in the cargo bay after your implants had been removed was the moment I knew that you could… that you would… mean a great deal to me."

Seven frowned slightly, her optical implant inching towards the center of her brow. "I do not understand."

"I knew that I could learn to depend on you like no other, that I could learn to care for you."

"Kathryn, when you say 'care'-"

"I loved you."

Seven's breath caught in her throat and a brilliant smile spread across her face. "You loved me?"

Kathryn's head snapped up and she faltered slightly as she searched for the correct words, words that she had once vowed she would never say. "No, Seven. Not 'loved.'"

Seven tried to pull her hand away, but Kathryn held firm. There was no way she was going to let this woman slip through her fingers, figuratively or literally.

"Love. Present tense. Love, not loved."

Seven stopped struggling and sighed as she felt tears gather along the bottom lid of her human eye.

Kathryn's own tears fell freely, relief washing over her at her own confession. A huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I believe then that I loved you, Kathryn." Seven reached out to stroke the older woman's face, noticeably aged through the years they had known each other. "But now..."

More tears rolled down Kathryn's cheeks and she felt the lump build in her throat. She could not remove her gaze from their entwined hands.

"Now I know I love you." Seven's voice cracked on the last word and the lump in Kathryn's voice disappeared. She looked up into the color of warm ice and felt her heart melt. And she once again said the words that she had been keeping locked up for four long years.

"I love you, Seven of Nine."

"I know." And, with their confessions still hanging in the air, their lips met in a tender kiss. It was far shorter than the moment in the cargo bay, but at the same time both women knew that what came as a result would grow far stronger than their friendship could ever have hoped to. It was the next stage in their relationship, and that it had blossomed from such an ordinary moment made it all the more precious.

Thanks for reading. :)