Seven kept her dress for the gala in her office for weeks. As soon as she'd heard she was to be awarded a Distinguished Service Medal alongside numerous Starfleet officers, she had quickly decided what she would wear and put it aside. There were far more important things to consider in her daily position as lead researcher and director of the new Center for Borg Rehabilitation, located near Starfleet Headquarters at San Francisco Bay. Nearly two hundred drones survived the virus that left several cubes lingering outside Earth's orbit. Seven had worked with a team of engineers to create a "drone" of their own, which was used to infiltrate the cubes, dismantle and retrieve valuable data, and transport survivors back to the Center.
All had gone according to plan, though the process was not without its struggles. Dealing with one drone severed from the Collective was difficult enough, let alone several dozen. A number of counselors were trained to help with the transition, all under Seven's direction and Admiral Janeway's unofficial consultation. Commander Deanna Troi was enlisted to assist Seven in developing a program that would cater to the drones' need for empathy and compassion while balancing their desire for efficiency. Through technology simulating a hive mind, Seven was able to link with the drones at first, assure them they were not alone, and slowly ease them into life as individuals.
One year later, most of the drones were on their way to becoming productive members of society. The majority had already left the Center and reunited with their families. Others secured admission to Starfleet academy or took positions as civilians. The few who required additional supervision and support were regarded as high level cases. These ex-drones continued to show signs of aggression and distrust, making it necessary for Seven and Commander Troi to meet with them daily. While their status continued to keep Seven unnerved, she was confident they would eventually, as she had, fully embrace the second chance they'd been given.
"Wow," Commander Troi mused as she stepped into Seven's office, a large space which doubled as her quarters when she needed to work overnight. "You look fantastic."
Seven's gown was conservative by most standards, but no less stunning. The midnight blue, silk crew neck draped high across her chest, dipping slightly lower into a V against her back. Long sleeves covered her arms down to the wrists, and the floor length, body-hugging garment almost looked like a more glamorous version of the catsuits she so famously wore during her time aboard Voyager. Her silver earrings sparkled just as boldly as her remaining implants, hair flowing across shoulders in waves that were slightly more coiffed than normal, though still reserved.
"Thank you," she swallowed nervously. She was still not a fan of large gatherings, though her social progression and spiritual practice put her more at ease. Being paraded in front of Starfleet, even for something she fully deserved, carried with it an air of formality and peculiarity she was not sure she'd ever get used to.
"I hope this looks alright," Deanna looked down at her uniform. "It feels rather drab in comparison."
"You are required to wear your Starfleet regalia, are you not?" Seven noted, stating the obvious, but trying to be supportive.
"I know!" Deanna scoffed. "But for once I'd like to get dolled up and be the belle of the ball."
Seven rolled her eyes.
"Perhaps I should have taken Starfleet's offer to supply a uniform," she sighed. "I'd prefer not to be the center of attention."
"Ha!" Deanna smirked. "It doesn't matter what you wear, Seven. When you walk into a room, all eyes fix on you no matter what. You should be used to it by now."
Seven swallowed again, blushing slightly as she looked down at her dress once more.
"That was a compliment," Deanna assured, gently grabbing her arm. "Come on, let's go."
After greeting the other honorees, Seven took her seat next to Deanna and her husband, Captain William Riker. She scanned the room for the Admiral but did not see her. Knowing she wouldn't miss it, she began piecing together the hints the older woman had dropped earlier as the program began.
After a brief introduction, Kathryn walked out on stage. Seven tried not to let her jaw drop as her eyes went directly to her hair, which she had apparently stripped of its fading red color, now appearing entirely gray.
"Good evening," the Admiral began her speech. "I'm sure you're all wondering who this old woman is standing before you. Not long ago, someone I admire told me they prefer a woman who ages naturally. So, I gave it some thought and finally decided, the hell with it, why not?"
The room filled with laughter. Kathryn's eyes flitted to Seven, who was seated in the front row. She couldn't help but smile.
"We all know why we're here tonight, so I won't draw this out. I have the privilege of presenting our first honoree with the Distinguished Service Medal, an award typically given to Starfleet officers who distinguish themselves through their bravery and ability in the call of duty. The individual whom I present this medal to has never attended Starfleet Academy, though that makes her no less a hero in my eyes. Throughout her years of service, not only has she helped save millions of lives with her work through the Center for Advanced Nanotechnology, but she once helped bring this Admiral and her crew aboard the U.S.S. Voyager home safely after seven brutal years adrift in the Delta Quadrant. Truthfully, had our ship not encountered Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero one, I don't know how many of us would be here today."
Kathryn caught a glimpse of several other Voyager crew members in attendance, fighting back tears as she recalled their saga.
"And had Seven Hansen, now the Director of the Center for Borg Rehabilitation, not fought through fear, uncertainty, and numerous other threats to regaining her humanity, none of the nearly two hundred drones who were rescued a little over a year ago would be given the same chance she received."
She took a breath as the room filled with applause, glancing back down at Seven.
"As I look now at this incredible woman, I am in awe of everything she has accomplished. Her dedication continues to touch the lives of so many people, and her brilliance is only matched by the astonishingly beautiful depth of her heart."
Seven's eyes glistened as she swallowed, meeting the Admiral's gaze once more.
"It is my honor, and with immense gratitude, that I present the Distinguished Service Medal to Seven Hansen."
The room erupted in applause as everyone in attendance rose to their feet. Seven's heart raced as she quickly made her way to the stage, stopping to shake the hands of several Admirals along the way.
Kathryn watched the blonde glide towards her, eyes fixed upon one another, careful not to betray anything beyond the utmost in professionalism and respect. Though they both knew the layers of complexity behind this moment, their romance was still largely under wraps, only a handful of people knowing the extent.
She took Seven's hand, shaking it firmly. Seven returned the gesture, though the Admiral's breath caught as the blonde leaned in for a modest hug. Kathryn closed her eyes, embracing her gently.
"Thank you," Seven whispered.
"My love," Kathryn whispered back.
As Seven stepped aside, Kathryn brought the medal to the collar of her silk dress, dipping her fingers just beneath the fabric, fixing the magnet there and letting it catch. Kathryn smiled broadly as Seven moved forward, displaying the honor bestowed upon her by her peers, allowing her to soak in the admiration those who remained standing continued to display through their applause.
Seven briefly thanked the Admiral and her entire team, especially Commander Troi, before returning to her seat. The rest of the program commenced with other Admirals, both retired and active duty, presenting similar awards to honorees. When it was over, the crowd moved to an adjoining ballroom where they were seated for dinner.
"Congratulations!" B'Elanna cheered as she pulled Seven in for a tight hug. "Who knew some day you'd be the most decorated Borg in Starfleet?"
Seven scowled a bit as she took her seat, beginning to feel much more at ease in the presence of her closest friends.
"I knew from the very beginning," Doc Zimmerman claimed.
"Of course you did," Harry shook his head. "Well done, Seven."
"Thank you," she sighed. "I would not have been able to accomplish this if it were not for the support of each of you. However, Commander Troi…"
"Deanna," the Betazoid reminded her.
"Deanna," Seven swallowed. "I believe you are equally deserving of this award. I intend to file a complaint with Starfleet letting them know they have committed an oversight."
"That's kind of you, Seven," she responded. "But really, this is your baby. I'm just glad I've been able to help."
The entire table stood as Admiral Janeway approached. Harry, always the gentleman, pulled out her seat.
"Good evening," she greeted the group. All eyes were curiously fixed on her and Seven as she put a hand on the small of the blonde's back. Seven smirked ever so subtly, allowing the move as they took their seats.
"That was quite a speech," Captain Riker told her as he went in for another bite of his salad. "I'd rate you and Jean-Luc among the top orators I've ever known."
"I'm afraid I can't take much credit for a speech that practically wrote itself," she mused, turning to Seven. "It's easy to sound good when everything you're saying is true."
The group laughed. Seven continued to blush, focusing on her meal as she felt everyone once again staring at her.
"When did you become so modest?" B'Elanna jabbed. "I remember times I wanted to scream back on Voyager."
Seven rolled her eyes.
"Thankfully, we have all grown since then."
"Here here," Tom laughed, bringing his champagne glass into the air. The others followed suit.
"To Seven," the Doc smiled.
"To Seven," everyone else chimed in.
As they each took a sip, Seven almost faltered at the subtle feeling of fingers tracing her knee beneath the table. Slowly, she removed her foot from her heel, bringing it to the Admiral's calf as she delicately stroked. Kathryn almost dropped her fork, immensely turned on by Seven's willingness to play the game.
"So," Tom spoke to Seven again. "What's it like living in the barracks?"
"Commander?"
"I'm sure your quarters at Starfleet aren't as comfortable as your place in New Mexico," he continued. "I remember the digs at the Academy were barely bigger than Houdini's milk can."
"Seriously," Harry agreed. "Do you still have most of your stuff back in Santa Fe, or…"
"I have no plans to return to New Mexico," Seven interrupted.
"Ever?" B'Elanna asked.
"Perhaps to visit," Seven swallowed. "But otherwise...no."
"Are you looking for a bigger place near the Bay?" Captain Riker suggested. "Because I've got a buddy who…ow!"
He stopped abruptly, having been pinched by his wife.
Seven took a deep breath and looked across the table at the Doctor, one of the only people from their oldest group of friends she and Kathryn had told. He merely shrugged.
"What I have not been able to fit into my quarters, Admiral Janeway has graciously allowed me to store in her loft."
"Ohhh," several voices nodded in unison.
Apparently, that was just the right amount of detail they'd been hankering for, given the rumors that had swirled among their group for months.
"She has been more than generous," Seven added, sitting up a little straighter.
"You don't say," B'Elanna smirked again.
Seven looked to Kathryn for her reaction. The older woman's eyes softened, her lips curling up a bit. Seven took a deep breath, then nodded.
"I suppose there's no reason not to be honest with those of you at this table," the Admiral breathed. "God knows we've been through more together than any group of people ought to."
"Amen," Harry took another swig of his champagne.
"Are you saying the inevitable's finally happened?" B'Elanna asked. "The two of you…"
"Can count on our continued discretion," Tuvok assured, glancing around the table, almost father-like.
"Thank you, dear friend," Kathryn laughed. "Not that there's any real reason to hide...it's just…"
"You don't want everyone knowing your business," Deanna offered. "Especially when you're still working together. Believe me, I get it."
"Suffice it to say," Seven finally spoke. "I do not require another living space. I am, in fact...happy...where I am."
The smiles around the table could not have been more genuine.
"I'll drink to that," Kathryn smirked.
Everyone laughed as they raised their glass once more and took another sip.
"Doctor," Seven began. "Have plans commenced for this year's conf…"
Seven of Nine.
Seven stopped speaking mid sentence.
"Seven?" Joe asked. "Are you alright?"
The blonde shook her head, sure she was simply imagining things. It was a boisterous room. No doubt many people were saying her name. There was no need to…
Seven of Nine.
"I…" she tried to speak.
Kathryn grabbed her shoulder.
"Seven," she whispered, her stomach cramping as she noted the blonde's skin had completely flushed.
Seven attempted to smile, though she was clearly struggling.
"I'm…"
Our thoughts are one.
Her eyes rolled back behind her lids, body going limp as she slumped in her chair.