Title: Better Off Borg
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: M
Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters and universe are not mine. I'm just playing with them.
Summary: By request, a rewrite of my story "The Curse of Coffee," in which it is Seven instead of Chakotay that is imprisoned with a full-of-coffee Captain Janeway. J7.
Dedication: To Aunt Kathy, who I challenged to write this and then selfishly stole back when I got bitten by the plot bug. Also, to Oystercatcher and all the other J/7 shippers who have begged for this rewrite since I posted the original. I hope this is satisfactory.

After several hours, the negotiations were going nowhere. Captain Janeway had never been more frustrated in her life, and as a result, had just downed her sixth cup of coffee…or was it seventh? She'd lost track, needing the drug just to continue functioning. The descriptions of protocols breached by both sides would have put her to sleep within the first thirty minutes if she hadn't had her caffeine.

She saw Seven of Nine eying her curiously, no doubt wondering whether the beverage provided some tactical advantage other than the obvious increase in energy. Janeway had invited the ex-Borg to accompany her on this mission, hoping the blonde would learn something about diplomacy...and possibly apply that newfound knowledge to her interactions with the rest of the Voyager crew. She sighed, looking over at her protégé. If only you knew how much I needed this, Seven.

The only light peeking through the proverbial clouds was in the knowledge that, if the captain proved successful in getting these people to agree to a treaty, Voyager would be paid in desperately needed deuterium. There's a year's worth of coffee to be had if I can finish this, she told herself.

She was about to call a recess, having decided that there was no hope of resolution in this session, when the lights suddenly went out. Shortly thereafter, she heard weapons fire, and felt herself being pushed towards the floor. Unfortunately, whoever was trying to valiantly shield her from the unknown enemy hadn't pushed her hard enough, and she felt a stab of pain rip through her as she lost consciousness.

When she woke up, she was chained spread-eagle to the stone wall of a prison cell, the only light coming through a small skylight. There appeared to be no door, and she surmised that one of the walls must be a disguised force field. She looked around the cell, wondering if she was alone, and sighed with a mixture of disappointment and relief when she saw the figure in a catsuit limply hanging on an adjacent wall. She appeared to be unconscious.

"Seven?" she called softly, hoping to wake her companion. When the younger woman failed to respond, Janeway raised her voice slightly and tried again. "Psst, Seven! Seven of Nine!"

Finally, Kathryn's efforts were rewarded as Seven groggily began to blink and stir.

"Captain," she acknowledged finally. Then, "How did we get here?"

Janeway shook her head. "During the negotiations, we were attacked. We must have been taken prisoner. I don't know any more than that. I just woke up."

"I wonder what they want," the ex-Borg mused, idly fiddling with the cuffs on her wrists, wondering if she could somehow break free. Her efforts were in vain.

"Maybe they wanted those talks to end as much as I did," Kathryn mumbled.

Seven of Nine raised her eyebrows. "Captain? Why would you wish for the negotiations to end before you'd reached a satisfactory conclusion?"

Kathryn sighed, resigning herself to explaining human emotions to the younger woman once again. "I was bored, Seven. It was tedious and trying." As she spoke, she fidgeted, hoping to worm her way out of her constraints, but like Seven, she was making no progress at all.

"Seven, do you think perhaps you could get your wrists out of those cuffs?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

The former Borg pouted in response. "I have already made an unsuccessful attempt at such an escape," she pointed out. "I was not successful. Further efforts would be inefficient. Your wrists are approximately the same size as mine, and so it stands to reason that neither of us will be able to slip our hands out if our wrist buckles are of comparable circumferences."

Janeway had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at her protégé's long-winded response. "Of course," she conceded. "That makes sense. Besides, even if we could get out of our shackles, I have no idea how to get out of this cell."

"Perhaps the skylight is the egress?" suggested Seven.

"Hmm," Kathryn mused. "Maybe that's how we got in. I was thinking one of the walls was probably a force field, but it's possible we're underground, and that window's the only way out. In which case, even if we could get down, we'd be pretty well stuck. Those walls don't look climbable."

"Do you have another suggestion for escaping?" asked Seven.

"No," Janeway admitted. "I suggest we wait to be rescued."

"Agreed," said Seven.

It then occurred to the captain that, although the former drone appeared unhurt, and she was unaware of any injuries of her own, she ought to ask. "Are you quite all right, Seven?"

Seven of Nine looked slightly offended. "What do you mean, Captain? Do you think my agreement on inaction is atypical in some way? Are you worried that I am...not myself?"

The captain sighed. "Of course not, Seven. I was referring to your physical being; have you been harmed in any way; are you injured?"

"Other than having been rendered unconscious and imprisoned against my will, Captain, I am...fine." She paused for a moment. "Are you injured?"

"Thankfully no, Seven, as far as I can tell. I'm a bit uncomfortable in this position, and I suppose you are too."

"Borg are rarely uncomfortable, Captain," Seven retorted. "This is not much different from the position I maintain while I am regenerating."

Janeway smiled a bit at that. "I'm glad you're all right, Seven."

"Thank you." Seven acknowledged. "And I you."

Silence befell for a few minutes before the former drone decided to speak again. "Captain," Seven ventured, "do you want to...talk?"

Janeway blinked. "Is there something on your mind, Seven?"

"There are many things on my mind, Captain. But I was more...concerned...that you would be disquieted if we stayed here in silence, doing nothing more than staring at each other."

Bowled over by the former Borg's surprising sensitivity, Kathryn was speechless for a moment. "Of course, Seven, that would be lovely. What would you like to talk about?"

Seven carefully gauged her captain's reactions as she suggested topics. "I am planning a renovation of the Astrometrics lab," she paused for a moment, noting that Janeway looked slightly bored, before continuing, "that would allow crew members to contact their families without a second person in the room. I have observed that the crew are quite uncomfortable with having me present for their more intimate conversations, and I no more wish to intrude than they wish to have me there."

Again, the captain was astonished. "Seven, that is a wonderful idea. But...how are you going to do it?"

"Well, I was hoping to have your input, Captain," she replied. "But I'm glad you approve."

They continued to work out the technical details of Seven's proposal until Seven paused, noting that the captain looked quite ill at ease.

"Captain, are you unwell?" she asked pointedly.

"You asked before if I was all right, Seven," the captain remarked. "Our situation hasn't changed."

The former Borg decided to explain, silently noting how Janeway had avoided answering the question directly. "You are fidgeting, Captain. And sweating, which is curious given that this room is colder than the standard temperature of the living space on Voyager. And," she decided to reveal all at once, "your subtle facial movements indicate that you are nauseated. I am not detecting any harmful components of the air, so the problem must lie within you. Perhaps you were not as unharmed as you suppose."

Janeway suddenly realized that Seven probably had no clue what she was experiencing, as she probably hadn't experienced it since before her assimilation, and likely didn't even remember it. With any other member of the crew, she wouldn't admit it out loud, though she would expect them to figure it out, and perhaps be in a similar state of misery. As she mused on how to explain to Seven what was going on, the Borg spoke up again.

"Do you need to urinate?"

Startled at the tall woman's perceptiveness, given her own inexperience, Kathryn suppressed a yelp, then again contemplated how to respond to the question.

Seven didn't give her a chance. "I take it that is an affirmative. Captain, why don't you just...go?"

Janeway stared, finally having a response for the younger woman. "I can't do that, Seven."

"Why not? I conjecture that, after a certain amount of time, you would have more trouble *not* doing that."

"It's not that simple. Besides," it occurred to her that she had never bothered to ask about Seven's bodily functions, as they had never before been relevant, "what do Borg do about this...problem?"

"Our nanoprobes purify our blood, so we have no need for kidney or bladder function," Seven explained, then moved the conversation back on topic. "You are avoiding the question again, Captain. What is not simple about voiding your bladder when it is full?"

"Seven," Janeway sighed. "I am a Starfleet captain, and this is not a bathroom. I can't even get my uniform off. If I were to...go...now, I would wet myself, and that would be a great embarrassment. We are taught from a young age to 'hold it' until we are in a suitable place for elimination. Don't you remember, from when you were a child?"

Seven looked askance at the captain, then answered simply, "No."

Disappointed, Kathryn stared blankly at Seven, having no idea what to say, how to explain this facet of human social mores. Meanwhile, the pressure of her bladder was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment, and she grunted as she squirmed slightly, as much as her constraints would allow.

"Wait," Seven continued, as she appeared to think very deeply. "I seem to recall a girl who had 'an accident' at school, and was made fun of by the other children."

"Exactly, Seven," Janeway confirmed. "It is considered a great weakness and humiliation to urinate in one's clothing. Especially in public."

"We are not in public, and I will not make fun of you," Seven stated.

The captain's eyes grew wide. "First of all, I have no idea who's watching us, and although I appreciate your sentiment, I intend not to give you the opportunity."

"You cannot 'hold it' forever, Captain. And I seem to recall that there could be dangerous health consequences of 'holding it' too long. I could list them for you."

Kathryn groaned. "That's not necessary, please. I'll be fine."

Indignantly, Seven appeared as if she wanted to stomp her foot, if she had been able. "You will not 'be fine' indefinitely, and I do not wish to be the cause of your illness," she lowered her voice to nearly a whisper, "or death."

The captain gasped. "Nobody's ever died from a full bladder, Seven."

"I beg to differ, Captain," retorted the erstwhile drone. "It is said that the ancient astronomer Tycho Brahe died from a burst bladder. I do not want your fate to be similar. Since we do not know when we will be rescued, I suggest you relieve yourself. It is the safest and most efficient solution to your problem, and I have no social biases with which to judge you."

Grasping desperately for some excuse to give the younger woman, Kathryn thought of something. "What about that girl?" she asked. "If you witnessed it, surely you participated in harassing her."

Seven pursed her lips, and paused before answering softly, "I believe I was that girl."

The captain eyed her sympathetically. "Oh, Seven, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. And that of the few things you remember from your childhood, that is one of them. I wish you had more happy memories."

Seven shook her head. "I didn't even recall it until you asked. It is a very vague memory and I certainly have no recollection of the physical or emotional sensations at the time. You need not worry. Also, you are changing the subject again."

Once again, Janeway sighed. "It's easier for me if I don't talk about it."

"But you are unable to concentrate on anything else," Seven observed.

"What?" asked Kathryn, confused.

"When I was explaining to you how we would reroute power to the automated systems in the new Astrometrics lab, you suggested a routing that would be impossible. That was when I first noticed that you were not as 'fine' as you would have me believe. If you were not distracted, you would never have made such an obvious error."

"Fine," Janeway conceded. "I'm distracted, as anyone would be in my situation. It does take a bit of focus, but I can manage for a while longer."

"I have no doubt that you can manage indefinitely, Captain. I only doubt that it is a good idea for you to do so. I regret forcing the matter, but I must warn you that the clouds I can see through the skylight seem to be of the cumulonimbus variety, and once it starts to rain, the subconscious suggestion of falling water may be more than you can resist."

"Shit," Kathryn muttered as she felt a small trickle soak into her pant leg, and she clenched her muscles to stop it. She bit back the urge to yell at Seven for 'forcing the matter,' and instead offered another retort. "In this case, Seven, resistance is not futile."

Seven, of course, had not failed to notice what had just transpired, and was not afraid to mention it. "You have already 'wet yourself,' Captain; you might as well finish what you started."

"Starship. Captains. Do. Not. Wet themselves. Do you understand, Seven?"

"No, I don't," she responded curtly. "You clearly have, and it is natural in this situation to do so. You have no other viable alternative. How many cups of coffee did you consume? Coffee, like alcohol, is known to be a diuretic..."

Kathryn could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes and she didn't know whether it was from the strain of holding back the deluge that was sure to shortly come, or because she was feeling backed into a corner by the younger woman whom she had previously counseled. Meanwhile, her stomach began to churn with the effort of fighting her increasingly expanding bladder.

"I think I'm going to throw up," she mumbled to herself, but of course, Seven picked up her words, and would have none of it.

"Kathryn!" Seven exclaimed exasperatedly, and that was enough to startle the captain, who wasn't used to being called by her first name by anyone other than her first officer. Kathryn looked up into the frustrated woman's eyes, and what she saw surprised her: concern, affection, perhaps even some sympathy...but no judgment, and no condescension.

Then, the former Borg proceeded to stun her further. "I love you," she stated simply.

Astonished, shocked, and therefore momentarily distracted from her all-consuming task, she felt the 'whoosh' of her bladder giving way. Her cheeks reddened, but she steadily continued to meet Seven's gaze as the sound of liquid hitting the cell floor seemed to last for an eternity.

Finally, the flow ended, though Kathryn continued to look into Seven's eyes for several moments before finally closing her own in relief.

"Feel better?" Seven asked sympathetically.

Kathryn nodded without opening her eyes.

Then, the former drone looked down. "That is a lot of fluid," she remarked. "I am surprised you managed to hold it."

"I didn't," Kathryn pointed out, stifling a giggle as she also looked down to observe her mess.

"Are you able to hold your alcohol well too?" Seven asked idly.

She smiled at the catsuited woman. "I don't drink alcohol," she responded. "I was tipsy once…didn't like it. Vowed never to let myself lose control like that."

Seven appeared contemplative for a moment, and then remarked, "I think I understand why you were so reluctant. Are you very afraid of losing control?"

"I..." Janeway started, not sure how exactly to respond, when she felt the familiar sensation of the transporter engulf her.

As she materialized on the transporter pad, she was instantly met with the concerned gaze of her first officer. "Chakotay," she acknowledged awkwardly, wondering how quickly she could convince him to beam her directly to her quarters.

He looked from one woman to the other, attempting to reassure himself of their well-being, and as he was doing so, sniffed the air suspiciously and wrinkled his nose. Finally, his surveying eyes found the source of the aroma, and his eyes grew wide in shock.

Seven observed as Kathryn seemed to visibly shrink as she was appraised by the invasive stare, and made a motion to step in front of her, hiding her state from further view. The captain was cognizant enough to notice her motion and wave her back.

Finally, Chakotay spoke, and he attempted flatly at humor. "You couldn't wait, Kathryn?"

The captain gave him an accusing glare. "You couldn't have rescued us a bit sooner?"

That seemed to snap him out of his shock, and he coughed. "Fair enough. It wasn't easy to find you, we..."

"Zip it," the captain interrupted. "This can wait. I'd appreciate if you'd beam me directly to my quarters now...please. You can debrief me later on what happened."

He nodded apologetically. "Of course."

Reluctantly, Seven stepped off the transporter pad. She didn't want to leave the captain alone, but also acknowledged her need for privacy at this time. However, she resolved to pay a visit to the captain as soon as might be acceptable.

After the captain dematerialized, Chakotay looked over at Seven. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

This time, Seven was able to stomp her foot, and had to restrain herself from doing so. "I am unharmed," she replied angrily.

"That's not what I meant," he clarified. "Most members of the crew would be a little unnerved to see the captain...like that."

"Like what?" asked Seven, her ire continuing to increase. "Are you referring to seeing her chained to a wall, unable to escape, and being unable to aide her? Or seeing her being belittled by her own first officer?"

Chakotay gasped at the former Borg's assertiveness. "No, I was...never mind."

Seven was not going to let it go, however. "You mean seeing her wet herself," she filled in. Then she softened slightly. "It's my fault. I urged her to do so. If you want to blame someone, blame me. She was extremely uncomfortable and I suggested that her health was more important than her appearance, especially as her appearance does not matter to me."

Voyager's first officer had nothing constructive to say in response to the young woman's bold remarks. "Right," he acknowledged meekly. "In that case, good work, Seven. However, if you find that you have any lingering symptoms due to any of your experiences today, I urge you to visit Sickbay, or you may come talk to me. I'll suggest the captain do the same when I next see her."

"I am and will be fine," Seven stated emphatically, resisting the urge to forbid him from advising either her or the captain, then turned on her heel and left the transporter room without waiting for a formal dismissal.

Later that evening, Janeway was startled by the chime of the door to her quarters. "Come in," she invited, although she dreaded the visit from Chakotay she knew was going to be inevitable.

She was pleasantly surprised to see that, rather than her first officer, it was Seven of Nine calling on her. Breathing a sigh of relief, she spoke. "Seven, what can I do for you?" She walked over to her couch and motioned for the tall woman to sit down.

As Seven sat, she looked over at her captain, concern in her eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were all right," she admitted carefully.

Janeway tensed again, even as she sat beside the former drone. "We've been over this, Seven. I'm fine."

"Chakotay suggested that we see the Doctor...or him."

"Of course he did," Janeway acknowledged. "I would have done the same."

Seven's eyes grew wide. "Why do you let him treat you like that, Captain?"

"Like what?" Janeway asked innocently, refusing to acknowledge that Seven had picked up on the more subtle overtones of their brief conversation.

"He belittles you. You were clearly in distress, and he treated you...like the mean girls treated me." Then, Seven paused, clearly contemplating something important. "Chakotay was mean."

Kathryn regarded her curiously. "Seven, he's my first officer and my friend. He was just trying to use humor to defuse an awkward situation. He wasn't trying to be mean."

"Nevertheless, it made you uncomfortable," Seven observed.

"I told you, Seven, I'm fine," Kathryn reiterated, taking Seven's hand in hers for emphasis.

That only served to embolden the younger woman. "He obviously thought so, but you're not. You've been crying."

Janeway gasped and pulled her hand back into her lap.

Seven continued, by way of explanation, "Your tear ducts are slightly inflamed. Most people would not notice, but..."

"But you did," Kathryn finished for her, suddenly realizing that she felt more touched than invaded at Seven's attention and concern. "All right," she admitted. "I may have shed a few tears of relief after I got back to my quarters. But I'm fine. Sometimes we just need to let out a little tension after a stressful experience."

"I know," Seven acknowledged. "That is why I asked the Doctor to enable my tear ducts so that I may experience at least one aspect of humanity that I found myself missing."

Janeway was suddenly intrigued. "There are others?"

"Yes," answered Seven sadly. "And after today, I have added another to the list."

The captain's heart palpitated at the admission, and she briefly contemplated the wisdom of pressing further, but her curiosity got the better of her. "And that is?"

"Urination," Seven stated flatly.

Janeway nearly choked. "Why would you want to experience that?" she asked pointedly.

"You seemed to experience intense pleasure during the occurrence," Seven observed.

Kathryn laughed nervously. "You are mistaken, Seven. It was merely relief in the cessation of pain that resulted from...tending to my bodily needs."

"Nevertheless, what I saw in your eyes...I wanted to feel for myself. But that is irrelevant; it is likely not possible for me."

"Hmm," mused Kathryn, suddenly feeling impulsive. "Maybe, but perhaps you can experience something similar, something truly pleasurable."

"Which is?" Seven asked curiously.

With a twinkle in her eye, Kathryn said, "I think I'd rather show you." Then, suddenly catching herself, she added, "If you're willing. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," Seven answered without hesitation. "With my life."

"I meant more than that, Seven. Would you feel comfortable being...intimate with me?" The captain steeled herself for a negative response, but it was not forthcoming.

"You mean like this?" Seven asked, then leaned forward and kissed her captain full on the lips, her passion and the truth behind her words back in the dungeon completely revealed.

Author's Note: The next part will contain explicit F/F action. Feel free to skip it if it's not your cup of tea. It will be written and posted shortly, but in the meantime, feel free to send requests, and I will attempt to incorporate them: this is new territory for me so I could use all the help I can get!