A/N: When I read the first 4 or so paragraphs of BBW's review, I thought that my mind had been read. It was a surreal experience to say the least. So yeah, "She Who Hesitates Is Lost" by Lisa Countryman is my all-time favorite B/7 fic. In my own personal opinion, it is perfect. There is not one paragraph of that story that I ever skip when I read it, which is once every 3 or 4 months. It is simply so funny, engaging, dramatic and incredibly well executed. To even be mentioned in the same post as that fic is an incredible amount of praise that I don't believe I deserve. But I shall be graceful and say thank you. Thank you. (and adding with a playful grin I say: thanks for the added pressure!)

Now- we do need a bad guy in this fic and who better than the Borg Queen? I really, really took a long time to try and figure out what I wanted her to be like. This isn't a horny Borg Queen. She's not obsessed with Seven in some kind of sexual way. Her focus is the Borg Collective. I picture the Borg Queen as being Alice Krige's portrayal in First Contact. She's pure evil, she's almost creepily seductive, she's not a fool but she has emotions and you certainly do not want to cross her. I hated how easily she was co-opted on the Show. Also, I write with the thought that the Queen's thoughts are not heard by the Collective unless she wills it. Same idea for any Borg who has their individuality restored. They are aware of the Hive mind and the information it gathers and knows, but keep their thoughts separate from it. I also wanted to give an actual reason for her obsession with Humanity. We get to be slightly special, yay... ;)

{}-The Hive mind. **-The Queen contacting the Hive. Made up "Cycle" to be a Borg equivalent of a year~ 333 "Earth Days".

Chapter 10- Perfection

~Perfection~

The state or quality of being or becoming perfect. The highest degree of proficiency, skill or excellence. The highest degree of quality or trait. That is what she is and that is what she seeks. Her footsteps are unnecessary, yet she takes them anyway. She doesn't need to breathe, yet she does anyway. She doesn't need to feel, yet she does anyway.

She stops in front of the containment field. She doesn't need to speak, yet she does anyway.

"Species 329: Kazon, male. Assimilated in spatial grid 13359 12 cycles ago."

There was a pause.

"How do you feel?" Her voice was almost seductive despite its danger; almost soft despite its cruel edge.

There was no response. She had him disconnected from the Collective. She had his implants removed to the point where he could exist with little artificial energy intake needs.

It had been three weeks. Still he sat in the containment cell. Still he failed to respond. Still he stared blankly at the wall. Internal sensors showed minimal cognitive function.

"Will you serve the Collective willingly?" Again, no response aside from the slightest dilation of the pupils. It was a simple physical reaction; like an addict severed from a drug and merely reacting to its presence. She was disgusted. She spoke, yet she didn't need to.

"Assimilate him."

She moved to the next cell. Its occupant was pacing back and forth like a feral beast, grunting, snorting and growling.

"Species 3259: Vulcan, female. Assimilated at Wolf 359- how do you feel?" The question was cold; there was no outward indication of anything less than complete emotionless calculation behind silver eyes. Once again this one had been severed from the Collective and healed.

The Vulcan in question let out one last feral scream before launching head-first into the containment field. There was a sickening crunch as the neck of the subject snapped and the body fell to the floor motionless. With a curious tilt to her head she looked at the body. She spoke in part to herself, in part to the Collective- her thoughts could become actions, her words could become reality- but they could also both be hers.

"Species 3259: Vulcan- unsuitable for long-term assimilation despite biological traits favourable to tactical drones. Ordered cerebral activity degrades exponentially without conscious control after a given time period. Addendum: *Species 3259 will serve for no longer than 10 cycles. All current drones pre-designated as Species 3259 that have been part of our distinctiveness for longer than 10 cycles are to be terminated.*"

Her thoughts became words and her words became focus, spreading to the far reaches of the Collective as her will was carried out.

She moved on to the next cell, and the next and the next. There were no answers. For half a cycle she had been conducting tests. Since... the Unimatrix Zero virus. Why were some able to retain their will after being among her perfection for so long while others were not? This wasn't even about a pathetic 'fantasy land' where drones could live while regenerating. That was gone. This was about a weakness. Or a strength. One that she did not understand. Only some were able to be 'freed' while others remained a part of her perfection.

She stopped at the last cell.

"Five of Twelve, Secondary Adjunct of Trimatrix 942, species 734: Telpan, male, individual designation 'Axum'... how do YOU feel?" The final part was spoken with words dripping in amusement.

The drone in question was the leader of the 'individual' freed drones. He had made a fatal flaw- the arrogance of the individual. A drone couldn't exist as an individual within the Collective- if you weren't severed from the Collective, individuality didn't matter.

They were easy to find. She knew she wouldn't be able to find the 'individual'- so she looked for the missing drone. A 'hole' in the perfection of the Collective. They had all been a part of her. Did they think she wouldn't notice them missing? She kept quiet for a time. Just until all the missing 'holes' in the Collective were found. They still had to regenerate and when they did, that is when she struck. It was small things at first, attempting to co-ordinate all the 'freed' drones was a time consuming and complex task. Unfortunately, it was the tiniest of suggestions that would start to leave a trail to follow. You can't be connected to the hive mind and not receive instructions- even if the instructions do not reach the conscious mind. A reflex action adding traceable coding to communications was such a small simple thing. Other small messages can reach the brain stem, which in most species controls simple things like breathing and the heartbeat.

They had all been destroyed, 112 386 Borg. All but one. He remained assimilated, but an 'individual'. He was not connected to the Collective. That was his punishment. To exist knowing there was nothing he could do, having free will and individuality intact as a drone but utterly and completely helpless.

He looked at her. Pale eyes full of anger. "I will destroy you." It was his only consuming thought. He would destroy her.

The Borg Queen.

She laughed- an utterly unattractive laugh.

"Why Axum? Why would you destroy me when I have allowed you to have your freedom you so desire? Why do you hate me when I have done nothing but be what I am?"

"You're a monster." He practically spat. His Borg shielding was offline and the alcove in his cell could not be re-programmed. He was a prisoner; a mockery.

"Oh Axum, such hate. Tsk, tsk... and for what? You know what I am. I am the heart of the Collective. Without me there is no direction, without me there is no purpose. The Collective was without order before I came. It is my will that forges our destiny. Here you are, cursing me, blaming me for wanting to bring you and so many others to perfection and yet... I am not the reason you are in this cell, in your 'prison' as a drone. Am I?" She would break him. She knew. He'd been weakening.

He looked back at her and said nothing. There was nothing else to say. There was nothing left but the hate. She almost pitied him, but he amused her. It also brought about that silly question that plagued the Borg Queen for nearly 20 cycles.

What made Species 5618, Humans so different? Of all the species that were a part of the Collective, why was it that this one species, with no particularly unique biological distinctiveness was so able to retain their will even after being a part of the Collective for a period of time? They never lost their ability to regain their sense of 'self'- their independence; their individuality or their foolish determination to keep it. Locutus couldn't give himself to her fully because she had dominated his will in the hive mind. Allowing him even an ounce of free will to stand at her side as an equal would have been a disaster. Even assimilated it was as if he withdrew even further just to spite her. Every one of her test subjects from species 5618 had shown the same thing- they all refused her. Once freed of the Collective, not one wanted to go back. Not one wanted to be a part of her perfection. The stubbornness was both frustrating and exhilarating for her. It was a challenge to overcome. To be able to harness such fierce determination would only add to the Collective's perfection- to her perfection. It was passion that the Collective lacked. The Borg could be utterly relentless in their pursuit of perfection, but without a passion for it, was there even a point?

She decided to play with her 'prisoner' a little more. "You spent how long Axum? How long devising a plan to 'free' all of your 'oppressed' brethren? Did you even consider the consequences of your actions? Did you know you were condemning them all to death? Was it a chance you were so willing to take? Or was it perhaps the chance to see her again? Was it all for her?" The Borg Queen was not above twisting the knife. He would break. They all did- all except the humans.

He knew she wasn't in his head. His mind was his own, but he had been trapped for so long. Reality was warping oh so slowly around Axum. There was once peace. There was once certainty. Then there was fantasy- but did he become greedy? Was it really wanting to 'free' others? Or was it to bring her back? He'd lived for years as an individual within Unimatrix Zero and yet he'd lived just as many as part of the Collective. In the physical world his brain chemistry had remained unaffected by his time in Unimatrix Zero... and so it had been too long, too long since he'd truly understood emotion.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't. He knew that when he did, he would be hers. He wanted to fight, but the fight was leaving him. He was losing. She knew and he knew she knew. It would be over soon.

"I'll leave you to your lonely thoughts then, shall I Axum? Enjoy your freedom... such as it is." She turned and walked down the humid dark corridor, green hues and constant technological activity pulsing in a twisted mockery of life.

{17 tactical drones, 3 tertiary adjuncts and 5 assimilation drones of species 3259 have been deactivated}

She continued to walk towards the central plexus in which she could fully shed her physical form and become one with the Collective as the new data was being received. Most was ignored while she remained in her avatar. It was easier to focus on specific tasks and yet maintain a general sense of the Collective. It was unnecessary but also something of a guilty pleasure for the Borg Queen. She had been a member of species 125 once- flawed and apart from perfection. Now she WAS perfection so there was no reason not to enjoy her physical form from time to time.

{New data: deep space navigational scout vessel 3179 mapping spatial grid 43669 has detected Federation Intrepid-class vessel. Designation NCC-75656: USS Voyager, heading 093 v-021.}

The Borg Queen stopped in her tracks.

"….Janeway."

End Chapter 10