This story is the first sequel to a previous story I wrote, "Distress Call". You can read this one without having read that, but some elements of the story may not make much sense.
The characters belong to Paramount, I'm just borrowing them. This story contains a relationship between two women with some sexual scenes – if you don't like this then don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy!
Chapter 1
Part 1
When Kathryn Janeway's eyes eventually fluttered open, it was after a long period of restlessness, her consciousness caught between sleeping and waking in that no-man's land of disorientation. Scraps of memory had drifted through her mind as though caught on a swirling breeze, one replaced by another with nothing to link them, just random snatches from her waking moments. Even as she awoke the fog remained, hiding her recent experiences under a blanket of confusion.
Captain of Voyager; experienced officer; Intelligent, loyal, courageous woman – Janeway was the complete Starfleet package contained in a small yet sturdy body that at this moment lay motionless, her fuzzy mind trying to comprehend why another pair of arms surrounded her. That aside, what she did know was that her whole body hurt from head to toe, with a few places where the pain reached several notches above her level of normal tolerance. She began a mental catalogue, noting in particular an aching shoulder, tender ribcage and areas where a dull throb seemed to penetrate deep into her body.
The mystery arms, Janeway noted gratefully, held her in such a way that they caused her no extra pain, one which ran under her neck and stretched out to a seemingly impossible distance; the other resting lightly on the bare skin of her waist, but rather than tucking around her stomach – one of the places where she had obviously sustained injury – it ended in a hand that lay on the sheets in front of Janeway. Coherent thought still just out of reach, the Captain studied the hand, its long, pale fingers curled slightly, palm facing back towards her. Bemused, she reached down with a hand of her own, brushing the smooth skin which felt cool to her touch.
Slowly, like the creeping of a tide over a sandy plain, she became aware of an odd warmth spreading from her shoulders down her spine, over the graceful curves of her buttocks and thighs and the backs of her calves. A slight pressure accompanied this newly-discovered sensation, which Janeway found reassuring yet which caused a feeling of worry to tug at her surfacing mind.
When understanding returned, it was with the force of an uncontained warp core breach that left her mentally if not literally gasping for breath. She forced herself into a state of calm panic, if such a thing even existed, managing not to move even as her heart thudded in her chest. When the voice spoke, she thought the shock might actually finish her off, an ignoble end for a starship captain.
"Are you well, Captain?" The sound was close to her ear, a smooth, low tone that was unmistakeably female. The owner of the voice remained still, tucked up behind Janeway, her breath warm on the Captain's neck.
'Don't panic, Kathryn' Janeway told herself, though it was a little late for such advice. 'Don't do anything hasty.' Better – a suggestion she could actually use. She stretched her limbs, only a fraction but enough that she could edge away from the other occupant of her large bed without being too obvious, though there was still the problem of the arms. Gently, Janeway extricated herself from Seven-of-Nine's grasp and moved over, finding a safe, cool spot where she was able to think more clearly and plan her next manoeuvre.
After boldly going naked in her quarters, disrobing in front of a stunned yet clearly appreciative Seven-of-Nine, Voyager's ex-Borg Astrometrics Officer, Janeway remembered being carried to her bed by the younger woman, weeping from pain and exhaustion. She remembered clinging to Seven as she gently placed Janeway down, and remembered feeling so safe and protected as the ex-Borg joined her and held her in a comforting embrace. What Janeway didn't remember was what, if anything, had happened after that.
'So probably nothing,' the little voice said inside her head, rolling its metaphorical eyes. Janeway wanted to believe this, needed time to think, alone. Definitely alone. 'Then face the music, Kathryn!' Sighing briefly, she proceeded to do exactly that.
"Good morning, Seven. I hope you slept well?" Friendly, light, she hoped her tone conveyed her need for privacy to her younger companion, who was not the best person to expect to pick up on subtleties. Janeway finally dared to open her eyes, greeted by the sight of the tall, blonde Borg stretching languidly like a just-woken young tiger. Despite Janeway's efforts they were still close together, though no longer touching, and Seven's outstretched hand almost brushed the older woman's cheek.
"I am adequately rested. Do you wish me to leave?"
The question, as one would always expect from the Borg, was direct, with no verbal frills or superfluous words, and Janeway wondered whether the young woman knew how rattled her Captain was. She felt that she ought to offer – well, something – an apology, a thank you, an explanation of some sort, but in her current emotional state it proved impossible. In a flash of decisiveness, Janeway replied. She would sort out the consequences, whatever they were, later.
"I think that would be best."
Part 2
Seven-of-Nine was aware when Janeway's consciousness began to surface from the murky depths of a troubled sleep. The Captain had been restless throughout the night, turning from side to side, back to front, frequently murmuring disjointed phrases. Each change in Janeway's position was matched by the ex-Borg who kept a continuous hold on the older woman whilst avoiding the worst of her injuries and the Captain's more intimate areas. She waited quietly for Janeway to awaken, a shiver of pleasure running through her body at one point when the dazed Captain's hand lightly brushed her own, but when the small form suddenly tensed, accompanied by a dramatic increase in heart rate, Seven's concern forced her to speak.
"Are you well, Captain?" she asked, as softly as she could manage, resisting an urge to brush the exposed neck in front of her with her lips, to adjust her grip and pull the rigid body closer. There was no answer immediately, though the older woman's heart rate decreased a little, but Seven could feel the Captain edging away from her until a narrow stretch of mattress, a gaping chasm of physical separation, opened between them.
Though she had spent most of her life as a Borg drone, serving the Collective with no free will of her own, the young woman was capable of the full range of human emotions, a good portion of which flooded her system at that point. Detaching the scientific part of her psyche, she attempted to analyse her feelings, failing due to the sheer intensity of them and instead concentrating on maintaining an impassive mask of calm. Had she spent her life as a human being, those emotions would have been recognisable to her as hurt, confusion, and rejection coupled with love and desire for her complicated Captain.
"Good morning, Seven. I hope you slept well?" Janeway's normal speaking voice cut through her thoughts.
The Captain sounded bright and friendly, with no trace of the need for comfort and companionship that had brought them together the previous evening. She could have been ordering her morning coffee. A stab of pain lanced through Seven's heart, but she had set her expression carefully and it didn't show. With an exaggerated stretch that unintentionally (maybe) almost caught Janeway in the face, the Borg rose onto one elbow, her eyes meeting the other woman's briefly before Janeway looked away. It was clear from the Captain's tone and body language that Seven's presence was no longer required.
"I am adequately rested," she stated flatly, noting the way Janeway had pulled up the covers, hiding every inch of her body up to her slender neck. 'She regrets the closeness we shared' thought Seven suddenly, having to work hard to keep her voice steady as she continued to speak. "Do you wish me to leave?"
It was a simple question requiring a simple answer, and Janeway provided one, quashing any hope that Seven still retained of maintaining the intimacy between them.
"I think that would be best."