A/n: Hi everyone! I know you're all waiting for updates of long-running fics but I came up with this idea which has a slight Halloween theme and just had to write down! It's set soon after the episode "Survival Instinct". I hope you all enjoy.

Seven paused uncertainly as she approached the Mess Hall's doorway. Even through the thick titanium door panels she could make out torrents of conversation and roars of raucous laughter, sounds which rather than putting her at ease or filling her with pleasant anticipation made her question the wisdom of going in. Almost two years on Voyager had taught her that she was not well suited to attending parties. However, when she thought of what her other options were, either regenerating or returning to Astrometrics, she flinched despite herself, glad that there was no one present in the hallway to see her. The past few weeks had been…difficult. First there had been the encounter with the Equinox, which Voyager had thankfully escaped victorious, but not before the deranged Captain Ransom had had time to tamper with the Doctor's programme and order the hologram to torture her, something the EMH had taken several long, exacting hours to then carry out. She'd forgiven the Doctor now that his true personality had returned to him, or at least had been trying valiantly to, after all, who knew better than her the guilt of being forced into terrible actions? Still though, the memories stalked her brain, excruciatingly vivid every time she stepped into her alcove. Accordingly, she'd been regenerating for the minimal amount of time possible each night for over a month now. The human saying "to forgive but not forget" was certainly holding true for her, painfully so. That dilemma had been compounded recently, but with her as the antagonist, when she'd discovered that many years ago, her desperation to remain within the Collective had condemned three individuals to death, ruining their bodies to the point where they could not live without the Collective. The knowledge of the timeline the Doctor had given them would soon be running out, that their short lives as individuals may already be over, had been haunting Seven all day in the solitude of Astrometrics until she could bear it no longer. She released a weak, frustrated sigh, she needed a distraction, and even a party would serve that purpose tonight.

As she walked in she was confronted with an explosion of orange and black decorations draped over every table and hanging from every protrusion on the ceiling. There were extravagantly pointed black hats used as centrepieces, brooms propped against every wall and, most perplexing of all, pumpkins dispersed everywhere, carved to look like a warped version of a human face. She'd heard from Tuvok that Halloween was the most illogical of all the human traditions, quite an achievement, but she was starting to think he'd understated the sheer strangeness of it as Tom, Harry and B'Elanna detached from one of the crowds and headed towards her.

"Happy Halloween Seven!" Tom declared warmly, his grin widening in gentle amusement as he saw the thoroughly confused expression written all over the young woman's normally unreadable face. "You like my costume?"

Seven studied him intently, becoming more bemused by the second. She couldn't define his costume as such. All he was wearing was a torn version of his uniform and some face makeup to make it appear as if he were particularly pale as well as wounded. "What are you supposed to be?" she asked tentatively, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"Aww, couldn't you guess?" Tom replied with a hearty laugh, "I'm a zombie!"

Harry stepped forward, his plastic pointed fangs coming loose in his mouth as he smiled at her nervously. "And I'm meant to be a vampire."

Seven nodded thoughtfully, "I am familiar with the concept of vampires, they were used to express an underdeveloped human race's fears of disease and sexual deviance, but I do not know the origin of a "zombie"."

B'Elanna peered at her, surprised by her somewhat literal knowledge of the vampire myth. "Where did you hear about vampires? I'm pretty sure the Borg would've declared them irrelevant."

Seven nodded firmly, "They are irrelevant, but…" She sighed slightly, "The Doctor ordered me to read certain works of classical literature as part of my social lessons. One of them was Dracula by Bram Stoker."

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, still trying to get over being put in the same category as diseases and sexual perverts. "And did you like it?"

Seven shrugged noncommittally, "Not particularly, although it has apparently enlightened me for this holiday tradition somewhat."

Tom shook his head vigorously, "You're not enlightened if you haven't heard of zombies!" he argued, chuckling to himself, "Although the Doctor probably thought the idea was a little too low-brow for you…"

"Tom!" B'Elanna interrupted impatiently, "Just explain it to her, but some of that B-movie trivia in your brain to use!"

"As you order Lieutenant." Tom teased, giving her a joking bow before turning back to Seven, "According to folklore, zombies are people who come back to life to eat other humans. Another name for them is "the walking dead" because they're not really alive, just driven by instinct."

Seeing Seven's face contort in revulsion, B'Elanna sighed in agreement. "It's all too ghoulish for me, half-Klingon or not."

"Is that why you are not engaging in the dressing up tradition Lieutenant?" Seven asked curiously. Many of the crewmembers currently in the Mess Hall had put even more of an effort into their costumes than Tom and Harry had, but B'Elanna staunchly remained in her regulation Starfleet uniform.

B'Elanna laughed, shooting Tom a teasing look. "I'm not dressed up because I'm a grown up, unlike this man-boy here!"

As Harry chortled in response to that and even Seven allowed herself a small laugh, Tom wrapped an arm around B'Elanna's waist and pulled her into his side, saying with mock defensiveness, "I did try my hardest to get her into a bunny outfit but she was having none of it…"

Seven frowned ponderously as B'Elanna playfully slapped Tom's arms away, "I do not understand. I was under the impression Halloween was supposed to be about fear, what is frightening about rabbits?"

Harry flushed as red as a beetroot at that question which made Tom and B'Elanna, who were already laughing, snort with hilarity. "I'll…I'll explain it to you later Seven."

Harry never did give her an explanation. As the party drew out towards midnight, guests, including Tom, B'Elanna and Harry, began to trickle out back to their quarters, mindful of duty shifts in the morning, but Seven, irrational as she knew it was, continued to linger in the Mess Hall. She wasn't ready to face the nightmares that she knew lurked within her alcove, and Astrometrics reminded her too starkly of her time with the Borg to soothe this particular mood she found herself in. So she sat alone at one of the tables, watching the few, less responsible members of Engineering's Gamma Shift, who wouldn't be working again until the next afternoon, enjoy getting progressively more inebriated. The fact that many species seemed to relish the loss of control that alcohol brought on was deeply disturbing to her, after all, weren't inhibitions there to restrict dangerous behaviour? Why would anyone want to disregard them?

The touch of Neelix's hand on her shoulder pulled her out of reverie. "Good evening Seven, can I interest you in one of my Halloween themed smoothies? It's pumpkin and orange."

Seven winced slightly as he waved the tray of luridly orange glasses in front of her, but he looked so beseeching she gave in and selected a glass, taking a wary sip. "That is an…unusual concoction Neelix." She informed him carefully, rewarded with a beaming smile from the Talaxian. Actually, compared to some of his other culinary experiments this one was quite tolerable so she continued to drink as he replied.

"It is isn't it? But if I can't do it for Halloween, when can I?" Neelix said effusively, "Wait, I've got some pumpkin seed and cranberry cookies in the galley; I'll get some for you."

"Neelix…" Seven began to tell him not to bother but could only smile as she saw he'd already bustled away.

"No, the Borg are def…initely closer to zombies than vampires!" One of the Gamma shift group, Crewmen Russell, announced out of nowhere to his companions, "I mean, you basically die when you're assimilated…wight?" He asked, his voice slurring.

"Nah…" His friend, equally intoxicated, argued, "They swuck the life out of you…like wampires!"

One of their more sombre friends finally noticed Seven and had the grace to blush even as he swayed drunkenly. "No…no offence Seven…"

Seven was offended, the comparisons they'd made stirring up her emotions that were already disturbed by more serious events. Still, she refused on principle to reveal that to them. "How can I be offended with a discussion dissecting the merits of mythical creatures?" she asked coldly.

"Gawd…" Crewman Russell drawled, "Lighten up would you?" As he saw her stiffen, guilt flickered across his face and he decided to make amends, leaning over to his friend and whispering, "Vodka would do…the trick right?" Obligingly, his friend gave him a tray of the vodka mixers they'd been making out of Neelix's smoothies and he then dumped them on Seven's table. "I'm sorry about what I said, how about we have a toast to make up?"

Seven, affected by his apologetic tone, nodded shakily in agreement. "As you wish." She murmured, obediently following his lead as he downed the glass in one go. She immediately felt odd; this drink was different from her first one somehow. The liquid sliding down her throat burned but she kept swallowing anyway, the thoughts and memories that had been taunting her all day becoming pleasingly hazy. It didn't take much encouragement for her to pick up another glass.

"Commander, could you come to the Mess Hall? I need someone's assistance."

Chakotay straightened in his chair at Neelix's serious, worried, tone. "I'll be right there Neelix." He assured him, "Did that party get a little too much for you?"

"You could say that." Neelix replied pensively, "Please hurry Commander."

Chakotay reached the Mess Hall within minutes and as he walked inside was struck by one of the most shocking sights in his career. Seven of Nine, former Borg drone and one of the most reserved people he'd ever known, was sitting on the floor, lolling against a table, with her wild giggling only occasionally interrupted by a loud hiccup. "What the…" He gasped out, looking between a fretful Neelix and a few equally disorientated crewmembers for answers. "What happened here?"

Neelix wrung his hands anxiously. "I came back from the galley and she was like this! I didn't think the Captain would react well so I called you…"

"You did the right thing Neelix." Chakotay reassured him quickly, kneeling down in front of Seven and seeing at one that her normally keen blue eyes couldn't even follow the movement of his hand in front of her face. "She's drunk." He whispered in disbelief, "Why would she…" He frowned angrily, "She's told me before that she doesn't drink…"

"Come on Commander…" Russell groaned, unimpressed. "We only slipped some vodka in the smoothies to help her be…less Borg like."

Chakotay stood up to his full height, dwarfing Russell as he bristled with rage. "You spiked her drinks?" He asked incredulously, horrified and staring down at the clueless Seven with new sympathy.

"You gotta admit Chakotay…" Russell spluttered, "She's a lot easier to get on with this way…"

Chakotay's hand clenched involuntarily into a fist but reined in his first impulse to slam his hand against his comm. badge. "Lieutenant Tuvok, could one of your security teams report to the Mess Hall? I need some people to be escorted to the Brig."

"Yes sir." Tuvok replied, making all of the troublemakers in the Mess Hall groan.

"Commander…" They started to complain in unison.

He glared at them darkly, enough to make them all freeze. "A stint in the Brig will do you good, give you time to sober up." He snarled, moving towards Seven and trying to guide her gently onto her feet. "Come on Seven, it's time to go…"

"Why?" she asked, blinking blearily, "It's pweasant here, besides…" She giggled to herself, "I cannot seem to…stand..." As if to prove her point, she stumbled back and it was only Chakotay's arms which kept her from falling onto her backside. That seemed to shock some sense into her for a moment, a frown passing over her face."What's wrong with me?"

"Some idiots spiked your drink." Chakotay answered as he pulled her upright and began to half carry her towards the doorway.

"Spiked?" she echoed in wonder. "The liquid didn't taste…sharp…" She mumbled in confusion.

In any other circumstances Chakotay might have chuckled at that, her grasp of human idioms was obviously even looser when she was drunk, but right now it made his heart hurt to think how vulnerable she was to just such a trick as this. "I just meant they put alcohol in your drink without you knowing about it." He told her softly as they reached the hallway, Seven wincing at the sound of Mess Hall doors shutting.

"Alcohol?" she cried out, shaking her head so vigorously that she almost lost her balance again. "Im…Impossible, I do not consume alcohol…I have a low tolerance…"

Chakotay gave her quivering frame a sympathetic squeeze as he held her up. "Don't worry, I'll help you get to Sickbay and the Doctor will make this all wear off for you. You might not even remember…" Seven abruptly went as stiff as a board in his arms, curling fearfully into his chest as she whimpered with sudden fear. "What's wrong?" he asked, completely mystified.

"I can't…I can't go to the Doctor! He'll hurt me…" She slurred, tears of panic filling her wide eyes.

Chakotay grabbed her by the shoulders. "What are you talking about Seven? The Doctor cares about you a great deal, he'd never hurt you…"

"He did…" She whispered brokenly, head low as tears streamed freely down her pale face.

Chakotay's brows furrowed as he tried to understand, an eureka moment coming quickly. "Are you talking about when you were on the Equinox?" he asked thickly, his throat constricting further as she nodded. He didn't know about the events of that day in detail from Seven or the Doctor's perspectives, they'd written reports but the Captain hadn't allowed him to read them, despite the fact that she'd been visibly disturbed by them herself. Seven might be able to expertly suppress the trauma under normal circumstances, but it was obviously surfacing with a vengeance now. He struggled to think of what he could suggest. "Look…" He murmured eventually, "I'll take you to my quarters and monitor you there; you don't need to see the Doctor at all."

Seven relaxed so much she almost sank to her knees, the tears changing into giggles again. "Thank…hic…you…Mr Commander…"

"Okay…" Chakotay muttered to himself as he heaved her upright again and led her towards his quarters, hoping he wouldn't regret this impulsive act of chivalry.

"So Seven…" Chakotay began awkwardly as he guided her towards his couch, which she sank into with impressive aplomb. "You want to tell me about what's going on with you and the Doctor?" He knew it was wrong to ask her something so serious while she was so incapacitated, but he knew she wouldn't do the opening up she obviously needed if he didn't coax her now.

"Okay…" She began slowly, gaze swivelling. "I forgive the Doctor…he and Ransom were like me and the Collective…"

"Yes…" Chakotay prompted gently, "I can see why you say that."

She nodded repeatedly, "Yes, I'm correct then to forgive…but…" She bit down on her lip hard and stared at Chakotay guiltily, "But I'm still scared of him, scared of my…onwy fwiend…"

"Only friend?" Chakotay echoed after a pause to interpret her vodka soaked speech patterns, "Seven, that's not true at all, everyone on this ship is willing to be your friend…"

"Maybe." Seven admitted, rocking back and forth on the couch, "But they'd still leave me alone." She sighed heavily between another two hiccups, "I'm not a good fwiend anyway, I made the other drones in my adjunct suffer…" She trailed off, her gaze distant. "They will most likely be dead now." She stated, her pronouncement blunt even as she shook with sobs.

"Seven, we talked about that." Chakotay murmured, moving to sit beside her and pulling her shaking, frozen hands into his. "You weren't in control of your actions back then, you were a nineteen year old Borg drone, what you did is understandable. You can't keep blaming yourself."

"But I do…" She choked out wearily, "I'm glad that…you don't though." She gave him such an open, grateful smile at that moment that Chakotay was stunned, she really was beautiful. Alcohol was still derailing her train of thought though as she remarked after a long pause, "Those people, they said the Borg are like zombies. I researched it, I don't want to be dead and consuming people anymore…"

"They compared you to a zombie?" Chakotay choked out angrily, "Don't think like that, let alone repeat such garbage, alright?" He exhaled hard, surprised at how wound up he felt on her behalf.

"Alright!" she agreed cheerily, almost childlike.

Chakotay smiled at her encouragingly, "Good." He lay back on the couch, suddenly exhausted. "My God, I'm going to keep those guys in the Brig for as long as I can, what lowlifes…"

Seven laughed freely, shifting on the couch to watch him intently. He was very appealing to look at, especially when he smiled at her, that made her feel better than even the "spiked" drinks from earlier. Determined to look at him closer, she moved smoothly into his lap, placing her hand on his shoulders and gazing directly into his face as he stiffened in confusion. "You're…so much more…attractive than the holograms the Doctor makes me interact with, or Lieutenant Chapman…"She commented dreamily as she unconsciously leaned into him.

"Lieutenant Chapman huh?" Chakotay muttered awkwardly, trying to move out from underneath her to no avail. He choked back a chuckle at the surreal nature of this situation, knowing that he'd need to stop this before she embarrassed herself further. A small part could only mentally ask though, Lieutenant Chapman? The shyest guy on the ship? When has she ever interacted with him? Talk about irrelevant considering their present compromising position!

She lowered her gaze, "The Doctor's idea." She muttered detachedly, tugging at her hair, which had long since fallen free of its clasps. "I'm not attractive at all, my implants render me repulsive."

She said this so matter-of-factly that Chakotay flinched. "No, you're wrong about that." He assured her firmly, "You're definitely still attractive."

"Oh…" She mumbled, looking at him gratefully again before showing her gratitude in an entirely different way, leaning forward and kissing him full on the lips, lingering for several seconds before pulling back, leaving Chakotay hot and breathless despite himself.

"Seven…" He forced out, his mind going blank as he stared at her totally innocent gaze. He cursed himself, if she hadn't realised her own attractiveness before she'd know about it now from where she sat squarely on his lap, practically straddling him. "I think its time for you to rest…"

"Hmm…" Seven mumbled, flopping onto his chest. "Ensign Kim never explained this to me but why are "bunny" costumes acceptable on Halloween, I'm not scared for rabbits at all…"

Chakotay nearly choked, she was really testing him, but then did all he could do, chuckled, though it left his throat more huskily than it should have. "Bunny costumes are for another type of Halloween party altogether, one that Neelix certainly won't be throwing." He sighed, the question having affected his shameless body like a cold shower. He was the sober one here, he had to be responsible. "Right." He declared, standing up and taking her with him, she was surprisingly light, almost frail. "I'm going to have to take you somewhere to sleep this off." Seeing his bedroom as the only option right now, he couldn't just abandon her in the Cargo Bay, he began to walk, stiffening as Seven's legs wrapped around him instinctively as he tried to carry her. Laughing was the only release of his embarrassment, "You really know how to test a gut's self-control don't you?" he muttered gently as they reached the bed.

"Mmm…" Seven mumbled sleepily into his shoulder, not resisting as he lowered her onto the bed. He stepped back swiftly, trying not to think about how mortified the poor woman would be in the morning. He watched her curl her long frame into a tiny defensive ball, like a cat before stepping away to retreat back to the couch where he'd obviously need to make his bed for the night.

A/n: Yes, it's farfetched, but I hope I didn't take too many liberties with the characters, I've been tempted to write a drunken scene for a while. Is this okay for T or should I bump it up to M? It was a little suggestive in places… Anyway, tell me what you think! Do you want a second chapter? PLEASE REVIEW! :D