Author's Note: Another one of those random plot bunnies that just came to me. I love this episode so just thought I'd try and write about what could have been going through the characters' minds. I might do a second chapter to give them a happy ending, but haven't quite decided yet. As always, reviews are very welcome. Happy reading.

Flight of Fancy

Seven-of-Nine registered the pounding footfalls closing in behind her and automatically sidestepped to give the runner a clear path.

"Where's the fire?"

The accidental contact sent sparks coursing up her arm. She immediately halted. Looking up from the PADD, her gaze met a pair of animated brown eyes. They were the last eyes on the ship that she wanted to see. Confused, "Fire?" she enquired. She hadn't realised how strongly her borg habits were re-asserting themselves after her holodeck antics. She had been lost; absorbed in compiling her report on the subspace warheads. Nor had she noticed the various crew members side-stepping around her, in an effort not to irk their Borg crewmate.

"You seem to be in a hurry." He explained further.

With every step they took, he seemed to invade her personal space more and more so that she found herself brushing against the edges of the bulkhead. She kept staring straight ahead, unwilling to make eye contact. "I have to finish my report on the subspace warheads."

Chakotay was even more puzzled by her behaviour; the fleeting eye movements and sudden 'Borg' reversal, "The ship's out of danger, thanks to you," he reminded her gently, "You've earned a break."

She stiffened at his words, a break was the last thing she wanted or needed. He noticed that she refused to look at him. He also noticed that her body seemed to reveal what her words would not. She was exhausted. Her skin was an unhealthy shade of pale and the dark circles under her unfamiliarly dim blue eyes spoke of a lack of a good night's sleep, or rather regeneration. He wondered when she had last eaten, which is why he suddenly found himself saying, "Why don't you join me in the messhall?"

He caught her apprehensive look when he said the word "me". He met her eyes with an easy smile, "Neelix is going to give a cooking lesson – Talaxian tenderloin in ten minutes."

Seven's breath caught in her throat when she saw his dimples appear.

He was about to comment further on the possibility of making it into a tongue twister but the words died on his lips when he saw how distraught and uncomfortable she seemed in his presence.

"I'm no longer interested in cooking," she informed him curtly.

He was suddenly alarmed that he had done something wrong. However, he wasn't about to be brushed off so easily and was willing to try any excuse to get the former Borg to come along, "Then come for the company, B'elanna's going to be there, Tuvok even promised to show up. "

He could sense her hesitation and quickly added, "It'll be fun." just to make sure that he had convinced her totally.

She slowed her steps and he felt relief. Seven swallowed hard before starting and dug deep for the courage to look at him, "I appreciate your offer. Another time perhaps?"

He was disappointed but he tried to hide it, "You know, you should try socialising with the crew a little more…" he paused to see the effect his words would have on her, "It might do you some good." He said with mock authority, giving her a half-knowing look and a small smile on his lips, hoping to encourage her to confide in him.

He held her eyes captive in his and Seven felt her knees tremble because for a moment she felt the Commander had looked right into her and read her thoughts, seen her contemptible behaviour on the holodeck but also knew her wildest desires. His eyes soon left hers and he stepped away from her.

Seven remained in a daze, her feelings in flux. She felt a sudden urge to tell the Commander what had been happening the last couple of days and why she could never be fully human. On the one hand, she was annoyed that the Commander still had this effect of her. That one look could shatter her borg discipline into a imperfect fragments. On the other hand, she would have liked nothing more than to spend an evening in his company. What would be the point drone? consoled a small voice, it's not like you can do anything with that emotional leash around your brain. Seven swallowed a couple of times, unwilling to cry in the middle of the hallway.

Chakotay turned around and gave one last parting look. He could see that she wanted to be comforted and a hollow feeling washed over him seeing her so unhappy and so unlike her normal self, which he had come to admire and respect. He saw her shoulders shake and shook his head at her stubbornness. However he could be stubborn too. Whatever it was that was bothering her, he was determined to get to the bottom of it and make it right! Anything to see her smile once again. He was not surprised by these revelations in his thoughts, he felt that recently he had developed a bond with Seven-of-Nine and could, at the very least count himself as a friend. If only she could see that he was there for her.

Seven turned around just in time to see the Commader quickly avert his gaze and carry on towards the Messhall. She wondered if maybe…just maybe he possibly…perhaps…the thought wasn't allowed to complete itself as her PADD beeped, indicating it was awaiting input instructions from her. Yes, she consoled herself, perhaps it was just a flight of fancy after all. She must have imagined the caring look she had seen in his eyes. There was no other rational explanation.

-FIN-