PETALS
The rest of the away team is exploring a promising M-Class planet. It's beautiful but they are focused on scanning the area, no eyes for the unassuming beauty of the place. You're passing through an area that rains soft, tiny petals over the entire team. It reminds you of quiet conversations and slow walks, whitish pink blossoms strewn all over at that time of year when the cherry blossoms and makes you ache for home and spring festivals and couples walking arm in arm.
Nobody else notices, but you see wonder in her eyes, the tiny signs that she's experiencing something entirely new to her. You never quite manage to tear your eyes away from her in those moments, torn between feeling like you are intruding on increasingly personal experiences and the joy it brings you to see the world through her eyes. Careful now, if she notices you she'll shake it off and stride away, guarding this softer side she doesn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone yet.
Her eyes shine as she holds out a hand, gently, and watches as the petals fall softly on her fingertips. Delicately she brings her fingers together, mouth barely quirking at their soft feel. She lets them run through her fingers and takes another look above and around before she strides to catch up to the rest of the away team.
Beauty isn't irrelevant to her anymore and you almost wish watching her delight at the falling petals didn't make your heart feel quite so full.
TEARDROPS
You're surprised to see her here, at the edge of the celebrations, even though she's usually in the middle of such functions. You feel happy for them, but the chaos of crowds still grates on you, makes you hover at the edges, an outsider looking in. You don't feel fully welcome yet in this collective, but she's already become a safe spot in any crowd, allowing you to observe her, laughing and talking and smiling, always surrounded by a gaggle of people. She, too, always keeps herself distant from the rest of the crew, just not in the obvious physical way like you do. It's apparent in the way her face slips after she's performed as their captain, even here when the others get to let their guard down.
This time though, she's not performing for anyone as she's standing here, leaning against the wall and watching the newlyweds, a soft smile on her lips, tears in her eyes. The juxtaposition confuses you and pulls you a few steps closer, noticing how vulnerable she looks like this, how soft. Curious, until now you've always thought her strength was what drew you to her, you didn't realize how strong the pull of her gentleness would be.
Your hand reaches for her as if it had a mind of its own and as she turns to you, you quickly pull back the offending limb. She looks at you and gives you a watery smile, somehow knowing what's puzzling you, a silent rapport that you seem to only have with her, you realize.
You listen to her talk about love in strange places, finding joy in tragedy and she seems so much lighter somehow, despite - or maybe because of? - the few teardrops that fall as she speaks. The weight of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant seems to have lifted from her, if just for this moment where she can see the beauty that came from this fateful decision and not rationalize it away.
Later, when you're alone, you wonder why you hope she wasn't just talking about Tom and B'Elanna.
SNOWFLAKES
The snowball hits you with a loud thud and you can't stop the laughter from bubbling up at Naomis absolutely terrified face. So much for a few minutes to yourself. Naomi smiles sheepishly and runs at you full force, fully trusting you to pull her into your arms. You catch her, swing her around, her pure joy making you feel incredibly light. As you put her down and look up your breath catches as you see her, bundled up and with rosy cheeks, hair flowing freely under a hat, quite obviously dressed by Naomi - or maybe Sam? She walks up to you, smiling softly at Naomis laugh and - you find yourself hoping - your matching one.
Once she's close enough you can make out snowflakes in her hair and on her implants, remnants of the snowball fight she was obviously involved in and at that mental image your heart flutters. Thankfully, before your face can fully melt, the holographic weather changes and it starts snowing in earnest. You pull both of them under the roof of the cabin, vaguely aware of the crew laughing and talking inside. Before you can stop yourself your hands run through that blonde hair, shaking out the snowflakes. Her breath catches as your fingers softly remove the snow from her ocular implant. You let your hand sink slowly and catch yourself winking at her before she can asphyxiate.
Bemused at your own boldness you quickly turn to tell Naomi something about making sure to stay warm and huddle up with her, Seven on the other side, watching the winter snow wipe away the traces of their play. When you look up you wonder if that is confusion or a glower on her face and with a smile you make a mental note to thank Tom for the program.
RAIN
You doubt you'll ever understand your crew mates penchant for shore leave in hot, humid regions of a planet. In spite of the nano probes that regulate your body temperature, you find the feeling of damp air distasteful and wish, not for the first time, that your shipmates shared your preference for more temperate climates.
You tell yourself that the bare arms and soft legs in her shorts are not absolutely worth the discomfort, no. Surely it's just novelty that has you watching the play of muscles on her back, her shoulders, her arms, legs, every chance you've had so far. You're almost grateful that you're both sitting down right now, sunbathing as she called it, the heat keeping you in place as you recline on opposite sides of the small open space.
But then you can't tear your eyes away as a single drop of sweat runs down from her neck over the swell of her breasts into her cleavage and as you realize what - who - you've been staring at you pull your head up sharply, only to see her watching you with hooded eyes, face unreadable. You avert your eyes and while you're trying to get your breathing under control - strange, you hadn't been aware of a malfunction - you feel small wet bombs impacting your own bare arms. Within seconds, it's raining, hard, and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. The rain cools down your burning cheeks and soothes your discomfort enough to steel your resolve.
As you look up again you see her standing in the rain, arms stretched out, head tilted back and eyes closed, a wide smile on her lips. She takes a deep breath and if her now almost sheer top clings a little tighter and her nipples have hardened you pretend not to notice. Your heart clenches at the sight of her, suddenly wondering how her skin would feel under your hands, slick and soft, a cool contrast to what must be burning hands, judging by the way they're shaking in your lap. She opens her eyes and looks at you, through you, calling over the storm Doesn't it make you feel so wonderfully alive?
You're not sure what she's talking about anymore, the rain or the burning low in your stomach, both? It doesn't matter, you realize, as long as she's this free and unburdened, something she rarely gets to be. Suddenly you find that maybe, finally understanding the word ethereal is worth a little discomfort.
STARS
When she compares herself to an unfinished project you almost break down, almost. You want to tell her that giving up is unacceptable, ask her how she can not know how much she means to you, how she can't know that losing her will break your heart, that she is so much more than she gives herself credit for, that the time where you saw her as someone in need of guidance has long gone. You settle for reassuring her that she hasn't failed, has in fact exceeded your expectations. This isn't about you, your feelings.
You aren't the religious type but after she wakes up again you find yourself letting out a relieved sob when you're safely back in your quarters, thanking whatever deity might listen. It all breaks out then and you lose track of time as you sit curled up on the floor, quietly sobbing and letting yourself feel the relief that floods you now that you know you haven't lost her.
You've barely gotten yourself back together when she hails for you to join her in Astrometrics and her continued absolute disregard for the command structure makes a bark of laughter burst out, feeling foreign after the sobs from before.
Bloomington is back on the view screen when you come in and she quietly tells you she'd like for you to take her there, if you still want her to come. Holding back more tears you ask her to pull up a nighttime view of the stars from Indiana, have the computer dim all other lights and pull her on the platform. Sitting there, looking at the stars above you, closer to her than ever before and legs stretched out in front of you, almost burning from where her legs are touching yours, you tell her about watching the stars as a child, the pull they always had and the wonder they elicited in you. You tell her about wishing on falling stars with your Dad, how precious these moments were to you, how much you miss him. You tell her about nights in the tree house with your sister, walks around the pond with your mother at night and that you hope she'll like them, even though Phoebe might be a bit much.
You don't notice that she's looking at you as if you're the starry night that you love so much.
TIDES
She's become so much more elusive since he arrived. It's more succinct to say your anger ebbs and flows like the tides, since Kashyk has monopolized her time, has her looking at him with shining eyes, sharing her mind with him of all people. You tell yourself over and over again that it's not real, that she's too good, too smart, to valiant to fall for him but she's nothing if not convincing and you are not sure why you feel small and insignificant in the face of her pull and push as she floats in and out of your space like the moon across the sky.
You arm yourself with concern for the wellbeing of your collective and focus on keeping the Empaths safe. You push down thoughts about how much you miss being the one that gets to share late nights with her.
When you observe their kiss on the security feed your fists clench, your throat goes dry and your heart acts like it wants to beat out of your chest.
After that you throw up a forcefield strong enough to keep anything out, divest yourself of the anger and hurt that you don't fully understand, at least not the depth of it. When she sees you now, with your mask up, she looks at you with something like pain, like disappointment; hasn't she shown you that you can trust her by now? But you know there's fear under your anger and something that screams betrayal but you don't know exactly what promise was broken so you focus on that anger and don't yield. You want to make that look of hurt disappear from her eyes but you don't know how you can trust something that hasn't been given a name yet.
When the music switches to Mahler's Symphony Number One, Second Movement, images come up that you had pushed away when all this began. A vivid discussion, her eyes sparkling as she insisted that yes, music can convey feelings and very specific ones at that. This specific piece had been selected to represent elation, joy. You still remember her smile at your obstinate resistance when she jumped up a few seconds into the piece and pulled you into a waltz. You remember the surprise and shock of feeling her hands on you and the joy in her eyes as she effortlessly led you through her quarters, beaming smile making her even more beautiful than usually. You remember you had to concede to her because somewhere in that Movement, you found yourself smiling wider than you ever had before, looking at her with fondness and she had called you on it and how could you have denied her this (or anything, really)?
That night you visit her in her quarters and she calls you in and beams at you as she's listening to Mahler and you know, somehow, that while you don't know what to call it just yet you can trust that she'll be right there with you when you do.
EYELIDS
After insisting on being dismissed from sickbay to recuperate in your quarters she refused to leave your side. You tried - not hard, to be fair - to get her to leave you but sharing this with her made you feel better, cared for, human in a way you haven't in the last few days. You suspect she feels a similar need to be with you, can barely imagine what seeing your skin grey with implants all over must've been like for her. She's adamant that you need to rest, her clipped tones revealing more of her concern than if she had begged you to lie down to sleep. Like a sulky toddler you insisted that the couch was fine, and no, you don't want to sleep, yes it hurts, no you don't need an analgesic, yes of course she can sit with you.
When you feel her hands on your legs, massaging your feet you realize you don't remember how they ended up on her lap in the first place. Your eyes slowly open slightly, taking her in as she's entirely absorbed in her task. She's quietly humming along with the melody playing softly in the background and you almost snort when you recognize Debussy. Your sneaky, smart, soft Borg. Your eyelids fall shut again, enjoying the gentle warmth she's offering you.
The next time your eyes open, if just for a moment, you feel her arms around you and her shoulder under your head. You're entirely enveloped by her scent and you can't help but inhale and nuzzle as she carries you to your bed, cradling you as if you were precious and not made of bluster and coffee. She softly deposits you on the bed and when she pulls back you feel the loss of warmth, of her, so acutely that you mewl, Captains do not mewl, and hear yourself whisper Stay. She sighs but the bed dips again and she scoops you up, cradling you from behind as she pulls the sheet over both of you. Your lovely, gentle, beautiful Borg. You hold her hands around your front, shimmy your back into her and succumb to rest.
You wake up with furrowed brows the next morning, your eyes snapping open when you realize she's not holding you anymore. Then you smell coffee and when you slowly make your way into your living room she's by your side in an instant, leading you to the couch and she's blushing but you've never seen a more beautiful smile on her than when she looks at you now. You hold her hands and say thank you and squeeze, hoping that you can convey everything you feel. She lowers her head, her eyes flutter closed and she nods. When she opens her eyes again there's something new there, resolve maybe?, but all you can see is her fond look and that smile just for you and you think if this is as good as it gets then this would be enough.
TIME
You run several self-diagnostics and then make sure that your diagnostic subroutine is functioning correctly and come up with nothing. You don't understand how time - a constant unit of measurement - suddenly can become so infuriatingly unreliable. It's happened more and more lately and you're trying very hard not to be concerned - you do possess an internal chronometer after all - so you decide to investigate.
Preliminary analysis shows that the phenomenon has occurred at different times of the day, in different locations and independently of regeneration levels. After you exclude any other atmospheric, ionospheric, polaric and tetryonic effects you turn to the people and situations you were in. After you compile the data, you let your regeneration cycle do the hard work of finding the common denominator.
When you wake up it's like a flashing sign is pointing to her. She was there, every time. You cross-reference, now taking interpersonal relationships into account and have to resist the urge to hit your own forehead when everything falls into place.
You resolve to test your hypothesis the next time you see her but one encounter chases the next and you haven't had a chance to spend time with her, really be with her, in weeks. Inadvertently you prove your own hypothesis because it's like time has become molasses so thick you want to pull your own hair out at the infuriating length of a day without the prospect of seeing her, feeling her lingering touches, hearing her laugh.
The next time you see her, at a morale boosting party after weeks of non stop crunch time, you get to validate your theory again. First, when time seems to stand still when you see her come into the holodeck. And then, when time falls away completely as she steps up to you, takes your hand and smiles up at you.
SHADOWS
That night in your quarters feels like half a lifetime ago. You desperately tried to hold onto those gentle, soft feelings of warmth she gifted you but the weight of command settled squarely on your shoulders shortly after and hasn't lifted since. With it came the doubt, the self-loathing, the rationalizing. Whenever you find yourself with time to spare she's either busy or regenerating. As you look on her resting form you can't help but notice how young and helpless she looks (if you weren't so deep in your darkness, you'd know that neither is true), and you begin to question whether you're pushing her into something she doesn't actually want or, more importantly, if you can ever hope to give her what she needs. Current circumstances seem to suggest otherwise and that thought doesn't leave you alone, haunts you almost as much as the memory of falling asleep in her arms.
When crunch time winds down and Neelix suggests a large event in the holodeck you know something's gotta give, and it keeps you up at night. You're apprehensive, her absence in your life making it easy for you to forget how she looks at you in favor of convincing yourself you've made it all up, placing everything on your own shoulders, that's your specialty after all. Still, you find yourself taking longer than usual selecting your outfit, dabs of perfume in your décolleté a hopeful indulgence you wince at.
Oh but then you see her and she looks as exhausted as you feel but her eyes are blazing when she sees you come in and nothing could stop you from going to her right then, taking her hand and smiling at her. Time stands still for a moment and you feel that weight shift, crack and fall, not completely gone but considerably lessened.
Your relief must've shown because her eyes light up and her lip quivers and you feel like you're stuck in a stupid romance holo novel all over again, your doubts cast away in the light of her.
Before you can say anything to her you get pulled away, the crew needing their Captain to assure them that they've once again made it through a rough patch. After making the rounds for a while you catch her watching you with an indulgent look and it's so achingly tender that you excuse yourself, walk up to her and insistently pull her out of the dining hall, Captain's duty be damned.
The program seems to be based on some grand old building, so somewhere around here should be a garden or a balcony. After a few steps she gets your drift and follows you faster until you are both basically running outside into a garden that takes your breath away when you see it.
Your sudden stop means she almost runs into you but she just lets her hands rest on your hips behind you while you stare up into the night sky and at the long shadows the many trees, hedges, flowers and benches cast. Nobody's made it out here yet and you're glad because you're not sure you can do this with an audience but you also know - with a certainty that you lost for a while - that it's time.
You turn around and give her that half smile she seems to like and pull on her hands to follow you. You almost stumble a few times, walking backwards, but there's a fountain in the moonlight that casts beautiful shadows and you can see the citadel for the first time and it's a wonderful sight. You kick off your shoes, motion to her to do the same and pull her into the fountain, the cool water a welcome contrast to the warm air around you both. You turn her around then so she can see the beautiful building and slip your arms around her waist. She leans into you, makes the most wonderful noise of contentment and you trail kisses down her neck, along her shoulders as she shivers under your lips, pulling you impossibly closer. When she turns her head towards you you're faintly aware of a cello playing in the background and want to snort at the cheesiness of it all but everything else becomes irrelevant because she's looking at you just so and you let out a breathless laugh and nudge her nose with yours. She flips around then and her lips find yours, softly at first, then more insistent, demanding and breathless. Her hands have pulled you impossible close, you're surrounded by her, all you can smell and taste is her and it's perfection and not enough, never enough, at the same time.
She pulls back and you panic for a moment, your rank crashing down on you as you focus on the ground. You underestimated her (again), she lifts your chin up with her fingers and gives you a breathless Hello Kathryn and smiles. You let out a breathless sob and bury your face in her neck, like all those weeks ago, but now that you're awake you can feel her pulse under your lips, thrashing wildly, and her hands on you are decidedly not therapeutic in nature. Don't leave you beg, not sure if you've said it or just repeated it in your mind like a mantra, but she must have heard you because she lifts you up, pulls you close and after a bit of swiveling deposits you on her lap, herself on a bench, away from any potential stragglers that could come out of the hall where the party is now in full swing.
There, in the shadow under a cherry tree she kisses you again and again, blesses your skin with her hands until you feel like your heart might burst from all the love she pours into you.
LEAVES
You recognize her need for romance, and you appreciate it, really. You're also quite frustrated by now. After the night in the gardens, she sent you to regenerate. You only agreed because she promised the next day would be all yours. You were hoping to meet her in her quarters but when you came out of regeneration she had left you a message inviting you to the holodeck.
You recognize the grove of trees and the planet you find yourself on now, and she looks, well, breathtaking in her casual outfit. When you arrive she beams and pours herself into your arms and suddenly she seems to you like a purring cat, so different from the commanding officer you know her to be outside of these walls and you think you start to understand why she needs to do this in an environment that is freeing, not in the space where she is Captain but somewhere she can be Kathryn.
She has prepared a breakfast under the canopy with soft blankets and cushions and you find you have to test your humanity when she asks you to just plop down. You're stiff at first but she just laughs and tugs at your arm until you're reclining in the soft pillows with her, leaning against the tree and her and she feeds you little pieces of fruit, cheeses and bread.
You wonder if she has suddenly more than two hands because between her fingers on your lips, they seem to be everywhere, on your leg, your shoulder, the small of your back and after a while of this you feel her trailing a hot line from your knees up to your stomach and you moan so unlike the Borg, but it's what she's pulled out of you. The playfulness in her eyes is replaced with a predatory look then and once again you're reminded of a cat, but now one that stalks its prey and you shiver as she straddles your thigh, runs her hands up under your shirt, skirting along your ribcage and kisses you senseless. You're not sure how it happened (and that warrants a self-diagnostic right there) but your top has come off and she's kissing your chest, biting your neck and all you can do is hold on for dear life. She looks up at you then, smirking and from somewhere deep you hear yourself growl and lift yourself to get her to sit up straight.
Her top has to go. So does everything else, this instant. I need to feel you all over me is what comes out of your mouth and she complies, oh how she complies. You pull her back into your lap now that you're both naked and it's like she'd been holding back all along, something snapped and you can hear her breathless moan as she twists your nipples and you bite down in the juncture of her neck, harder than intended. You can feel her grind wet against your thigh and all you want is for her to use your body in however way she sees fit if it means she'll keep making these noises. Her face is flushed and her eyes half closed as you press into her, let your hands wander all over her, faintly reminded by her skin of those soft, soft petals you'd touched so long ago. Her hands slide further down your body, you feel like you might burst if she takes much longer and somehow she knows and doesn't tease, just slides into you, as if you've been doing this for years, groaning as she feels you tight and dripping around her and you feel so full and weightless at the same time that all you can do now is hold on to her hips as she moves against you, inside you, all over you and when you hear her call out your name you explode.
When you come to, she hasn't moved, curled up on your chest she's almost purring and while you hold her close and pick out the leaves that have fallen into her hair you realize that this was always how you were meant to be with her.
THE SUN
The moment you stepped out onto the aft section of your downed ship, the sun blinding you like a personal affront from a planet that somehow knows you no longer know how to call it home. How could you when you've found family, her on Voyager, in the stars?
Ever since you've arrived it's been a blur of reunion and questions and debriefing and worry. All throughout, she holds herself straight and tall, haughty almost like in her first days on Voyager, but you know her better than you ever did now and you see the tremble in her hands and the tension in her jaw that screams fear to you. When you see your mom and sister for the first time, she's the one that holds you up, keeps you from breaking down completely and you're thankful for the strength she gives you, even though you have to let them go far too quickly again. You watch her hold Naomi's hand and help the girl that hasn't known anything besides your little family cope. Then and there you decide it doesn't matter where you are, these people will always be part of your life and you'll do everything in your power to keep them together.
You know you're not spending enough time with her but you have a promise to keep and if you want that to happen sooner rather than later it's time for you to hunker down, let the Captain take over to get some stuff straightened out and when you know it's only a matter of a few hours you tell her to be ready by 1900 and her relieved Understood makes your heart flutter.
She holds onto you tightly when you leave the shuttlecraft and set foot on the farmland you told her so much about. You've already called ahead so nobody's going to interrupt you two as you make your way down the long path to your family home. The sun is low now, no longer blinding but slowly falling lower and lower on the horizon and the pinkish-orange hue makes not just the land in front of you appear magical but gives her a glow that you're surprised to find isn't always there. In your mind, she's always radiant like the sun. You lead her to a small fence overlooking a valley with the pond you've told her about set inside and sneak your arms around her from behind as she takes it all in. You feel her tension start to drain away and realize you haven't talked about what you are, labels, about the future besides the promises you've made and the closeness you've built. You go on instinct once again and as you rest your head on her back you breathe I love you and she shivers in that most delicious way of hers. When she turns around your Seven is back and with a quirked eyebrow says I know while pulling you towards home. With a snort you realize that Phoebe isn't the one you should have worried about after all.
AND I, FOR YOU
They've welcomed you as if you weren't made of metal and sharp edges and how they look at you, touch you reminds you so much of Kathryn that you can't help but love them at once. And she, she's beaming and blushing and breathless at all the attention and teasing she has to endure but you know she fits and it's as if you've finally gotten the other key to a puzzle, see her whole for the first time. You know she's a little disappointed with your flippant answer from before, but you want to make your intentions clear and you just know one of the Janeways won't be able to stop themselves from asking. So after you've had an incredible meal, all four of you relaxed and smiling, Phoebe does what you've been waiting for and makes a show of asking you What are your intentions with my sister?
Kathryn looks a little pale but not one to let her sister get away with this she turns to you and you see that hunger in her eyes again when she repeats Yes Seven, state your intentions.
Oh Kathryn, you breathe, don't you know that I have fallen for you, with all I am? That loving you was always inevitable?
Her lip quivers, her eyes fill with tears as she looks at you, finally letting all of her fall into you and you know you're right where you belong.
