Disclaimer: I am not making any money of this fic, nor do I own Star Trek: Voyager, Deep Space Nine, The Next Generation or the original series, or anything else I make references to. If you saw the character on any show, then it is not mine. The same goes for ships, planets, cultures, et cetera. This story will depict a loving relationship between two women and there are no apologies to be made over this. Chapter 18 title is from "Love Bites" by Def Lepard whom I do not own.

Genre: Action-Adventure, Drama
Codes: K/7, T/7

Feedback: Please, reviews are the food of the muse… but flames are for candles!
Extra Disclaiming Note: All chapter titles are NOT owned by me and are owned, respectively, by the bands who wrote/played them and their record companies.

Home, Chapter 18
Love bleeds; it's bringing me down on knees. It's what I need...

B'Elanna looked at Seven from across the room, trying to approach the object of her affection. Without success. Several times she had braced herself to stand and failed, tried to just start up a friendly conversation—how easy it had been before she was aware of her feelings.

"Dammit," B'Elanna murmured, with feeling. She managed to force herself to stand, but instead of going forward, she found herself in the hall. She raced down the corridor, furious at herself, until she was certain that no one in the Mess Hall could hear her and she punched the wall. She stood there a few seconds, pacing, then repeated the action until she just exploded and hit the innocent wall with both fists and kicked it for good measure. "Damn it!"

She spun around and flung her back against the battered wall, which appeared no worse for the abuse and looked down at the floor, her hair falling into her face. She vaguely noticed the throbbing in her right knuckles, and the faint trickle of blood running down them, but didn't react.

"Dammit, Jessica, how do you do it?" B'Elanna looked next to her briefly and sighed loudly. "Losing your touch. Time was, you'd be standing right next to me, answering my question." Again, B'Elanna waited for an answer that didn't come. "Why can't I even talk to her now? What's wrong with me?" B'Elanna banged her head against the wall in frustration. She pushed herself off the wall, then walked to her quarters, defeated and emotionally drained.

She stormed into her living space and dropped her clothes on the floor as she walked through. The dirty garments fell from her body like water. She stalked into the shower room and looked at the sonic shower for a moment. She felt too tired to use it and as she turned to leave, she rammed her elbow on the towel rack, which was punished with a stream of choice words.

Angrily, she grabbed the bar, knocking the towels off and gripped it with all her strength, trying to exhaust the fury and frustration coursing through her body.

"Why did I let her go to Harry?" she cried. The towel rack snapped.
…

"Why am I incapable of sustaining a relationship?" Harry groaned as he sat, hunched forward, head in hands on Jessica's bed. She shrugged at him from the single chair across the room.

"Do I look like my mama? Why am I always the counselor?"

"Because you're good at it," Harry replied.

"I don't have all the answers, Harry. I'm just me." Jessica was brushing out the long white hair, one section at a time. Harry watched her, not really paying attention.

"You do seem to know everything," he joked. Jessica's liquid blue eyes darkened to brown for a moment and her eyes closed. Harry knew better than to ask if she was alright. He knew she hated that question, that she was simply experiencing the pains of old age. There was nothing he could do to help and she wouldn't take pain medication, so he remained silent and waited until she opened her eyes again.

"Not everything. No one knows everything and anyone who says they do is either insane, very young or an idiot."

"There is nothing to know beyond the fact that one knows nothing."

"Bleh, no philosophy tonight, I'm not in the mood. Just continue with your rant." Jessica set down the brush and relaxed into the chair. Harry laid back.

"I just… feel like I'm failing."

"Failing who?"

"Failing as a man. I—" Jessica made a rude noise and Harry propped himself up on his elbows. "What?"

"Don't give me that failure denotes unmanliness bullshit, Baby Face. I grew up in a world where everyone was waving their dicks around and if you didn't piss standing up then you had no voice." Jessica stood up and walked slowly to the window, talking as she went. "So I pissed standing up. I waved my gun around and made myself heard, moving forward without direction and losing all respect for myself because I wasn't being me. Then it all crashed down and it didn't matter anyway and I became a whore, again playing roles, never being who I was. Never being honest with myself or anyone else."

"I've never known you to lie," Harry said, sitting up fully and looking at the small back of the woman in front of him, covered in a curtain of wintry hair.

"Never did. Just pretended to be older—I could pass—without actually saying how old I was. Never said I was a boy, just said I peed standing up and lowered my voice."

"I find it hard to believe that anyone could mistake you for a boy, you're far too pretty." Jessica turned and looked at him. Then she walked over to him and sat down on the bed. They sat in silence for a while, Harry waiting for Jessica to speak as he recognized one of those few moments when she was willing to talk about her past.

"I used to have tattoos. I thought they would be a part of me forever, just another scar." Jessica was looking at her wrists and Harry followed her gaze. The flesh was smooth and unmarred. "Nothing is permanent. Now I don't really have any scars. I used to keep some, to remind myself of where I came from; still have a few. But it doesn't matter." She spread her fingers and Harry saw the thin knife marks on her palms.

"I sometimes wonder, what does a girl think when she decides that all there is for her is prostitution." Harry said, trying to get Jessica to open up to him. She set her hands on her knees and sighed. She shook her head at the obvious prod and abandoned her cryptic covering.

"I think that, for me, it was the hope that someone would come and take me away from it all. If I had to suffer, somewhere in it, there might be pleasure. That the bitch may as well be right, since I had nothing anyway. I was nothing. But most of all, I needed the money. With money, I could erase the past, erase the present, maybe even stop the future from coming." Harry put his hand on Jessica's shoulder. He squeezed gently; finally figuring out that 'the bitch' was probably Jessica's adoptive stepmother.

"I know that some people have more to be concerned with than whether or not they'll find their perfect mate—" Jessica spun, her eyes wide.

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying. I'm sorry, I just went off on a tangent. I meant to say that it has nothing to do with how masculine you are or aren't, but rather, just who is right for you. You can't pretend that someone is your perfect mate just because she's beautiful, available and you have a crush on her—that's just ridiculous. You're denying yourself and her if you do that. When it's meant to be, it'll happen," Jessica said, smiling slightly. "Now I just sound like I'm babbling."

"I thought Shashans were atheists," Harry teased. Jessica smiled wider.

"Far from it. Everyone's right, whether they know it or not. We just don't have any gods. But we're rich in theology and fate. Prophecies do have the strangest way of coming true. How could precognition exist without fate, things slated to be?"

"You don't have to convince me, I've seen enough of your dreams and visions come true to know that there's something. Doesn't mean I know what the hell it is."

"It would be so simple if it were the Prophets or the Q. Anything tangible and semi-corporeal." Jessica said. Harry laughed, then fell silent for a few minutes, thinking.

"Is she here on Voyager?" Harry asked. Jessica didn't pretend not to know whom he was talking about. But Jessica wasn't a prophet of that sort, she saw fewer visions as she grew older, the future was as cloudy for her as anyone else. But that didn't mean she couldn't give him hope.

"I don't know Harry." Jessica closed her eyes and smiled. "Maybe you were just a little off in the assignment of quarters."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry looked at Jessica suspiciously.

"It means that you've spent too long in here and I want to take a nap. Scram."
…

B'Elanna looked across the candle at Tuvok. He sat, calm and composed, his hands folded, fingers steepled under his chin, deep in meditation. The moment ended quickly as he sensed her detachment from the exercise.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" B'Elanna jerked awake, startled by the sudden sound of his voice in the silence.

"I was just thinking," she answered evasively.

"I do not believe that thinking will help you erase the thoughts and troubles from your mind," he admonished. She smiled slightly at the subtle joke. "Perhaps it would ease the burden from your mind if you discussed what is hindering your meditation."

"Is there a meditation to bring courage?" B'Elanna asked. Tuvok raised one eyebrow.

"There are many. Is there any particular type of courage that you seek?"

"I... I'm in love with... a friend and I don't want… that is, I don't want to ruin our friendship, but when I'm around h—my friend, I just have the urge to run away or. make a. romantic advance that would be inappropriate," B'Elanna managed to stammer out. "But I want to be friends with... I don't want to let my romantic interest get in the way of our friendship. I need the courage to see past my feelings, or to repress them, like I do my anger." B'Elanna looked away from the candle and at the window, staring out into the stars as they streaked by at warp.

"I do not believe that it would be beneficial for you to repress your amorous feelings. However, I can see how these emotions would be a hindrance to your association with this person. Though meditating with me may help you clear your mind and gain the courage to approach... your friend; that bravery may falter when you come face to face with the object of your desire. B'Elanna, you must find the determination from within to salvage your friendship, or you will fail."

Tuvok's face remained impassive through the speech, as well as his tone. But B'Elanna could read the concern for her in his words. He wasn't just telling her how to hide her emotions, or how to suppress them, he was trying to save her feelings, and help her with her dilemma. She felt a pang of appreciation for his friendship.

"Please help me find that determination."
…

Seven walked calmly into Sickbay and stopped, a shiver of fear running up and down her spine. She shook it off, reminding herself that Jessica was benevolent and that, as the ambassador for her race, she was also responsible for the actions of her people. Logically, it would follow that her people would be as amiable as she.

Still, Seven couldn't force the chill to leave her body as she viewed the two remaining adult Shashans in bed, a third walking around, assisting the Doctor and Jessica sitting next to the child. Seven was about to look away from Jessica, who was holding her daughter's hand gently and purring softly, a sound that Seven could only hear due to her enhanced earshot, when the woman did something very interesting.

Jessica raised her hand to the child's forehead. That, in itself, was not what caught her attention. What struck her as fascinating and frightening was that Jessica never moved. It was as if she skipped the act of lifting her hand. Her hand was holding her offspring's one moment, and then on the young girl's brow within a heartbeat. Seven shuddered for a moment, and then regained her composure as the Doctor stepped forward.

"Ah, Seven, on time, as usual. You know, I really appreciate your punctuality. Of all the crew, you are the only member who never fails to arrive promptly on schedule."

"Thank you, Doctor. May we proceed with the physical?"

"As you wish. Please take a seat." Seven almost sighed. She disliked sitting. She walked over to the biobed furthest from the injured Shashans, despite the extra distance that doing so required her to cover. The doctor gave her a strange look, but she ignored it and sat down. The grey Shashan male that had been following the EMH around continued to do so and she instinctively put the bed between them. "Is there a problem, Seven?"

"Yes. I do not wish to be examined by... one of them." Seven almost flinched at the terminology, especially when she saw the hurt in the young man's eyes. They changed to turquoise, the color of intense sadness and she looked away, unable to meet his expressive eyes.

"I wiil liifv efv iit causzess eyu diiscomfvarrtt." Seven glanced up and blinked at the heavily accented words, taking only a moment to understand. Seven looked back down. The Shashan man nodded and walked away, accepting the dismissal. The Doctor watched him leave, and then swung on Seven.

"Seven, that was just plain… rude!"

"I am sorry, Doctor. I am… uneasy around them."

"Seven, I understand your prejudices, but Tiañel is a very nice young man! He was a nurse on the Dracco, and he's been a fine assistant since he awoke." Seven refused to meet the EMH's eyes. He waited for a few moments, and then began scanning her. She endured the physical in silence, fighting tears that she had disappointed her friend and herself with her bigotry. Unfortunately, she just couldn't get past her programming.

Seven stood when the Doctor told her she was free to go and left. As she walked to the exit, she noticed that the grey Shashan, Tiañel, was sitting by the bed of a green Shashan woman, stroking her hair softly. His eyes were now royal blue, the color of love. Jessica was standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder. The Ambassador looked up and met Seven's eyes. There was no reproach, no accusations, only a serene, almost blank expression. Seven glanced back at the love in the male's eyes and felt a pang of sympathy in her chest.

She took a step forward, with Jessica watching her and tried her voice. It refused to work. She tried again.

"Is she your wife?" Seven asked, unsure what else to say. Tiañel nodded.

"Herr nem iis M'trellia," he offered without looking up.

Seven quickly mumbled, "I wish her a rapid recuperation," then her courage left her and she fled Sickbay, almost missing his response.

"And mayy yer harrt find iitself."

Seven mulled over the words. She assumed that it was a common saying for well wishing amongst his culture, but those words seemed far too appropriate, somehow.

'May your heart find itself.' She realized that she was standing in front of B'Elanna's quarters. 'Well, I suppose this is what he meant,' she thought lightly before pressing the chime. When there was no answer, she bypassed the locking mechanism and entered the quarters. Immediately, she heard the sonic shower running and she boldly strode into B'Elanna's bathroom.

She came up behind B'Elanna, despite the half-Klingon's nudity and grabbed her about the waist, spinning her around. B'Elanna looked shocked. Before she could utter a word, however, Seven had claimed her lips. For a blissful moment, they stayed locked together in the embrace, their tongues searching each other out, and then B'Elanna shoved away, realizing what was happening.

"Seven? What the hell are you doing?" All the meditations, all the attempts to protect Seven's feelings—all for nothing. Here was the woman that she was supposed to be hiding her amorous feelings for, to keep safe from her desires, coming into her shower and nearly ravishing her.

It had to be too good to be true.

Seven's eyes clouded. "I have offended you."

"No, Seven, I—"

"I have overstepped my boundaries and misinterpreted your feelings for an emotion that I had hoped we shared. No doubt, I have destroyed our friendship. I am sorry," Seven stopped as her throat closed and she ran from the room. B'Elanna pursued her, not having time to grab her robe on the way out of her quarters.

"Seven, wait!" B'Elanna called, but Seven paid no heed as she sped towards the nearest turbolift, oblivious to the naked Klingon following her, matching her pace. Seven stood in front of the turbolift less than two seconds before B'Elanna caught up with her.

The doors swished open, revealing a few crewmen and Lieutenant Tuvok, who merely raised one eyebrow before staring at the ceiling as B'Elanna grabbed Seven's arm and tried to drag her out of the lift. Seven shook her off, but turned around to look.

"You can't go after what just happened, Seven. You can't just toy with my hearts like that. Kahless, why does everyone have to leave? Why can't someone I love stay with me for once?" Seven's eyes widened, although she didn't answer the impossible questions. B'Elanna dropped to her knees and put her hands together, pleading. "Seven, don't go, please. I am on my knees, begging you to stay and talk to me. I don't fucking beg! Please get out of that damn lift. Please," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Seven stepped forward, triggering the lift doors to close, with most of the occupants examining what must have been a fascinating interior to have held their interest so long; only one staring, open-mouthed at the site before him. Seven took B'Elanna's proffered hand and pulled her to her feet.

"You should be wearing clothing, Lieuten—B'Elanna. There is a dress code aboard this ship." B'Elanna laughed and threw her arms around Seven.

She never wanted to let go.

To be continued…