A/n: I got this idea from NikkiB1973's brilliant one-shot "The Other Side of the Door", if any of you like "Twilight" fics, read that! So this story is for NikkiB1973, and for all of those reviewers who wanted Seven to wake up with Chakotay right at the beginning of "Perspectives"… ;)
Seven felt a tired sigh leave her throat as she finished her report on her experience with the Ventu and downloaded it to a PADD for the Captain's inspection in the morning. It would've been more efficient for her to take it to the Captain right now, but she had learned over the span of her years on Voyager that Captain Kathryn Janeway did not appreciate having her sleep disturbed for the sake of efficiently and, given that it was currently 2358 hours, she was almost undoubtedly sleeping. Seven also knew that if the Doctor were here he'd be telling her that regeneration was, for her, just as vital as sleep for the other crewmembers, but as she glanced over at her regeneration alcove, brooding in wait for her in the corner of this Cargo Bay and bathed in the sickly green glow that was all too familiar to her, she couldn't yet bring herself to heed that piece of advice.
She torn her gaze away from the alcove, her hand unconsciously coming to rest on the blanket she'd received from the Ventu and stroking the soft woven fabric pensively as the sense of difference, of separation, from the crew which always haunted her hit her with a renewed, oppressive vigour. It was inexplicable but true that it was only with a group of non-industrialised aliens, with whom she had no way to fully communicate, that she managed to lose the loneliness that had stalked her since her removal from the Collective. She hadn't explained that in her report of course, what good would that have done, but still her emotions swirled around inside her like smoke, impossible to wholly extinguish. She shivered and couldn't help but smile wryly down at the blanket, Chakotay had been right; it was possible to get cold even on an advanced ship like Voyager. The Commander, as she had told him earlier, had been proven right about many things, but she just had to hope that he wasn't misguided in alleviating her guilt about how they'd left the Ventu. Even if he were, she couldn't help but feel grateful, before his intervention, kindly and carefully offered, not only had she been feeling the loss of her friendship with the Ventu but also a crushing guilt that his quiet, informal words had somehow helped to lessen more than any of the Captain's hackneyed reassurances.
She frowned unhappily at the route her thoughts were taking, one they were following far too often since her experiments on the holodeck and even before, she couldn't afford to think too intensely on Commander Chakotay's attributes and her interactions with him, it would only bring more pain in the long term, both emotionally and, in her case, physically too…
Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by exhaustion, to the point where the near oblivion of a stint in her alcove began to appeal to her. Of course, as she did every time she stepped into her alcove, she'd need to relive the events that had passed since her last cycle as the alcove sorted through the memory files stored in her cortical node, but the prospect no longer filled her with as much dread as it had earlier in the evening. Surrendering to necessity, she left her console and went to her alcove, then dialled in the usual settings for a standard cycle, the metal on her cybernetic hand blending in briefly as her fingers moved deftly over the controls few others outside of the Collective could interpret. Taking a deep, calming, preparatory breath, she stepped into the alcove in one long stride and swiftly turned back out to face the Cargo Bay, expecting, as her eyes closed, that she'd immediately be enveloped in the simple darkness of unconsciousness.
That wasn't to be however. The mild tingle of her implants interfacing with the alcove was this time a sharp, excruciating pain, filling her head but also travelling down every nerve in her body. She could hear her own gasp, blurrily see a shower of sparks descending from above her, but soon a stark white light completely blinded her, overriding everything else.
Her eyelids felt heavy as she tried to open her eyes again, desperate to see anything but that disturbing light, but it was as if her eyelashes were glued together and it took a few moments to be able to open her eyes fully, and what she saw when she did left her perplexed. She was still in her alcove, her position elevated from the ground told her that, but unless the Cargo Bay had been radically altered, she wasn't there. It was dark, but from the watery sunlight beginning to stream through the room's fine floor length curtains, she could see a carpet below her and a shape that looked like a large bed in front of her. She blinked repeatedly, knowing that on board Voyager such a scene was impossible, but everything only became clearer, more resolutely abnormal. Forcing herself to think practically, she scanned the mirage for defects. Voyager had been attacked by telepathic aliens before and if there was a way to see through this obvious deception she was determined to find it. As she turned her head she was startled to feel her hair brushing the bare skin of her back and shoulders and reached up to discover that, at some point during her strange "transition" for lack of a better word, her hair had been freed from her preferred bun style. Her movement registered with the alcove, the voice of complaint unchanged but still causing Seven to jump as it droned out, "Regeneration cycle incomplete."
Seven stiffened in panic as she saw movement in the nearby bed, a soft, sleepy groan responding to her alcove's alert. "What's wrong Seven? It's only 0555 hours…"
"Comm…Commander?" Seven choked out as she recognised the distinctive low, velvety tone, her own voice hoarse with both shock and relief.
"Commander?" Chakotay echoed incredulously, sitting up abruptly in bed, his drowsiness gone. "Computer, lights!" he ordered, turning to stare at her intently, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I…" Seven started weakly, her voice failing her entirely as the lights illuminated the room, and Chakotay. She could now see his broad, muscular frame in its glory, the duvet having fallen away from his bare chest when he sat up. A burning heat surged through her along with a dizzying confusion as blood rushed to her face.
Chakotay's eyes narrowed, obviously as confused by her reaction as she was by his mere appearance here. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously, scrambling to get out of bed as she winced at his question, "Are you feeling alright or…"
Seven had never understood the human expression, "to have your mouth fall open", after all humans had complete control of their jaw muscles, but as Chakotay made his way hurriedly towards her, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers which had obviously been slept in, she had to consciously focus on getting her mouth to close and even then it took several seconds for the command to be obeyed. Gulping convulsively, she tried to gather her wits. "I don't know…" She mumbled, embarrassed to find that she was struggling to breathe. Instinctively she tried to flee, stumbling as she tried to escape the alcove.
Chakotay was beside her in an instant, his strong arms preventing her from falling straight to the floor. "You're shaking!" he exclaimed as he tightened his grip around her worriedly, "Let's call the Doctor…"
"Yes…" Seven whispered faintly as she unthinkingly sagged against him, pulling away in shame as she remembered she shouldn't be seeing her First Officer nearly naked, let alone leaning on said man! "No! I mean…" She dropped her eyes to try and collect her thoughts, she probably did need medical assessment, but hopefully if she stayed here this…delusion would just come to an end… Her mind froze in paralysis as she looked down at herself and saw that she was almost as scantily dressed as Chakotay. The nightdress she was wearing could, from what she understood from reading a sample of the Captain's romantic fiction, be described as a negligee. It certainly negligibly covered her, it ended halfway down her thigh and she now realised Chakotay probably had a good view of her cleavage too. Seven wouldn't have described herself as excessively modest, she'd frequently thought it irrelevant over the years and been bemused by the crew's prudishness, but right now her mortification was extreme. Her implants were grotesquely exposed, dotted over her feet, coiling up her legs, crisscrossing from her entirely cybernetic left arm over her chest and down her back. Just as rapidly as it had come, the blood reddening her face drained away and she was left ghostly pale as she shuddered in shame. "Let me go!" she demanded in horror, jerking away from him and trying valiantly to keep her gaze trained on the floor. Despite that, she still felt him tense beside her and couldn't avoid his gaze as he peered down at her, hurt painfully evident in his dark eyes. That wounded look he gave her somehow dragged a stuttering explanation from her lips, "You…You shouldn't…see me like this…"
Chakotay's face creased into an even deeper frown, this time one of concern, as he picked up on the frightened note in her voice. "What are you talking about?" he asked blankly before his warm hand gently moved up to caress her shoulder soothingly, "You look almost the same as you do every morning sweetheart and I'm always happy to see you…" He told her softly but his gentle assurances didn't have the calming effect he expected.
Her eyes shot to his, her already huge eyes showing blatant disbelief. She was, of course, sent reeling by the fact that this version of Commander Chakotay seemed to believe that the two of them routinely shared a room, and they had done so for an extended period of time, but that wasn't the first thing she questioned, "You don't find my implants repulsive?" she whispered brokenly.
"Repulsive?" Chakotay echoed, his voice catching as he realised she was asking a genuine question, "How can you even ask me that? Of course I don't!" He answered hotly, growing visibly frustrated.
"Really?" Seven breathed, still disbelieving and immediately irritated by the high pitch of her voice.
Chakotay took a deep breath before looping his arm around her waist to hug her into his side, leaning close to her face so that, as he spoke, she could feel his warm breath tickling her ear. "Listen, I know you're feeling a little insecure right now but I don't want you thinking like that even for a second. I've always told you that the only thing your implants show anyone is your strength to escape the Borg and live as an individual, they're nothing to be ashamed of."
Seven sighed, gulping hard as his words sunk in. No matter how strange this situation was it still affected her somewhere deep inside to hear such forgiving words. "But…" She began, grappling to understand. She'd been privately ashamed of herself for so long that she couldn't let go of the idea, and surreal nature of this experience wasn't helping.
"But nothing." Chakotay interrupted firmly, tilting her stubbornly lowered face up to his. "You could never be repulsive to me Seven." He murmured against her hair, kissing her forehead fondly, an action so unexpected that Seven was too shocked to do anything but allow it, "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever known and I'm very lucky that you're my wife. I don't want you to ever forget that I feel that way, okay?"
Seven knew the reasonable route would've been to point out to him that she didn't recognise anything about this, their relationship, this place, but she found that the indignant questions wouldn't come as she gazed up at him, transfixed by the love and longing shining from his familiar eyes. "I won't…" She breathed out honestly in reply, "Thank you Chakotay…"
A husky chuckle of relief rose from Chakotay, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "You're acting like I've never told you any of that before." He remarked, amused now.
Seven couldn't quite suppress a panicky laugh. "Well, actually I…" He laughed again at that, the soft, coaxing press of his lips on hers making the rest of that reply stick to her throat, unspoken. The next few seconds seemed to last an immeasurably long time but also not long enough, and it was Chakotay who broke it off with an easy smile at her. Seven had to remind herself to breathe then, and unwind her fingers from around his lithe shoulders, shaking her head a little to dislodge the pleasant fog and reinforce the fact that this could not be real. Her heart racing with adrenaline, she was relieved to spot an open doorway and backed away towards it. "Excuse me." She muttered to the phantom Chakotay hastily, turning to flee too quickly to see perplexed hurt scar his handsome face.
She slammed the door behind her with a crash only to realise that she had cornered herself in an en-suite bathroom. She stared down at her hands, throbbing from the harsh contact with the door, and saw two rings fitted snugly onto the ring finger of her right hand, a simple gold wedding band coupled with a matching ring set with a delicate ruby. Whatever this delusion was, it was undoubtedly detailed…
A/n: Originally this was going to be a one-shot, but as my regular readers will know by now, my one-shots tend to expand as I get into them! :) So a two or maybe three chapter story, depending on how much detail I explore. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you think so far! :D