Seven was escaping the party. Chakotay, caught up in an intense discussion with his former Maquis crew members, tried to follow her, but she waved him firmly off.

Janeway knew that most crew members would go back to Voyager after the party anyway. They were all still waiting for an official leave from Starfleet command to go home and in the meantime, most of them had chosen to sleep in the private quarters where they had spent the last seven years of their lives rather than the military barracks they had been offered. Only those reunited with their families were staying at nearby motels.

Seven's case was different. She didn't have a home to go back to after leaving Voyager. Cargo bay 2, with its row of Borg regenerating alcoves, was the closest thing the ex-drone had to her own private quarters, considering the fact that she spent most of her waking hours at work and barely had a private life at all.

Because of Seven, Voyager was the only ship in the Starfleet equipped with Borg regenerating alcoves. Regenerating was a necessity for the former drone, but the alcoves had also proved useful when they had rescued the Borg children from their devastated cube. To be able to regenerate during away missions, Seven had built a much smaller portable device, so technically she could leave Voyager, but Janeway suspected that the young woman would miss her alcove if she had to go.

Seven's influence on the ship hadn't been limited to cargo bay 2. She had practically created the Astrometrics department on her own, thus using her knowledge of Borg technology to make a place for herself in her new collective. Now thanks to her, Voyager was also the only ship in the Starfleet able to scan so deep, so far and with such precision into space.

And there was more. Voyager now possessed Borg weapons, shields, sensors, and so on – after three years of hard work and very little play, Seven had cleverly adapted her Borg technology to just about every system on board in order to boost their efficiency. The ex-drone had turned the ship into something unique like she was. Like her, Voyager was now a one of a kind hybrid and Seven had made the starship her home.

ooo

When she came back from the party that night, Janeway, her brain still furiously buzzing and unable to sleep, walked to the deserted mess hall as she often did. It was a bit strange now that the ship had landed – no permanent engine vibration in the background, no stars zooming by outside the windows – the sheer stillness of the ship created an eerie feeling.

In the dark mess hall, staring at the lights of the military base outside, Seven was standing in front of the window.

Janeway considered turning around quietly, and then said:

― Well, hello Seven. I guess you weren't feeling sleepy either?

They hadn't been alone face to face for ages. Janeway remembered those days when nobody on board but Seven would dare come chiming at the Captain's private quarters' door in the middle of the night to ponder some philosophical question about the nature of individuality. She missed that time so much.

Seven turned away from the window but the light from the corridor was too dim for Janeway to see the look on her face.

― I do not sleep, the ex-drone stated matter-of-factly, as if the Captain wasn't perfectly aware of that fact already. I regenerate when I need to. Right now, I do not.

As the Captain was saying nothing, Seven added:

― I am sorry, Captain. I was unaware that you intended to come here. I will leave now.

The young woman was already moving gracefully past her. She had adapted to the idea of the Captain not wanting her around. Janeway spoke before she knew what she was going to say.

― No, Seven, wait. Please.

Seven stopped.

― Captain?

There was a hint of curiosity in her voice. Or possibly something else.

Janeway gestured to the corner of the mess hall where people sat whenever they came to chat over a cup of coffee. The corner was completely dark but they both knew the ship inside out and she pointed to the large padded seat.

― Come, Seven, sit with me just a few moments. Please.

ooo

― Very well, Captain.

Seven complied and sat on the edge of the seat, as far away from Janeway as possible. Sitting very straight, she turned slightly to face her and tilted her head.

― Captain?

For Janeway, there was no easy way to talk about that. She sighed, suppressed the impulse to reach for Seven's hand and blurted out:

― Are you happy, Seven? Is this what you want?

― I am not sure what you mean, Captain.

Janeway couldn't see the young woman's features but was ready to bet that she was quirking her ocular implant in puzzlement. She rectified.

― Are you happy with Chakotay? Is he making you happy?

Seven remained silent for a few moments, considering her answer. Then she replied, her voice firm and a bit sad:

― I am making Commander Chakotay happy. It is sufficient.

Janeway jumped indignantly at that.

― It's certainly not, Seven! It's not acceptable! Why would you believe such a thing?

For a few more moments, Seven didn't answer. When she spoke, her voice was raw with contained emotion.

― I have failed to adapt. I am insufficient as a human being. I am grateful to Commander Chakotay for making me feel otherwise.

Janeway was at a loss for words. On pure instinct, she reached for the hand that Seven had placed on her own thigh and squeezed it – it was her human hand, not the one with the Borg implants. A shiver ran through the young woman but she didn't try to free herself.

― You have remarkably adapted, Seven. In only three years, you have reclaimed more individuality and humanity than some humans will ever have. You're not sufficient – you're exceptional. I'm so proud of you!

Seven's fingers reflexively curled on her thigh and she seemed to hesitate before whispering, the pain obvious in her voice:

― Then why am I not sufficient for you?

Janeway's heart skipped a beat. Surely Seven didn't mean that. But anyway… In a few days, the whole crew would disband and she wouldn't be anyone's Captain anymore. Seven would probably follow Chakotay for lack of a better option and it could be years before they met again. Even if Seven didn't reciprocate her feelings, she had nothing left to lose.

― I'm so sorry I made you feel that way, Seven, she said softly. You are everything to me. That's why I ran away from you. Not because you're insufficient but because I am. I fell in love with you a long time ago, but as the Captain, I couldn't – and you're so young, you have your whole life ahead of you. I didn't want you to…

― Captain, Seven said, putting her Borg hand on top of Janeway's. I have failed to adapt as a human being because my social skills are limited. There is only one individual I require in my collective – you.

The metal tips of Seven's Borg hand were a bit cooler than her skin. Janeway was afraid to move and scare her off. Was the young woman talking about love?

― I love you, Seven. I want you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I'm older than you, and a woman, and you could have anyone you want.

Seven replied immediately, her voice adamant.

― It is you I require, Captain.

Still not really convinced that they were on the same page, Janeway reached out carefully for Seven's face and cupped her cheek with her free hand, brushing her cheekbone with her thumb.

― May I kiss you, Seven?

The young woman leaned slightly into her hand and whispered:

― Yes, Captain.