Disclaimers: Gene Roddenberry, Paramount Pictures and CBS rightfully owns the beautiful world of Star Trek and all associated characters. In no way am I making any profit from this story.

Just For Practice

"Have you ever considered trying it yourself? Romance, I mean."

Seven of Nine scoffed aloud to herself, remembering Captain Janeway's words as she quickly made her way to Cargo Bay 2. Relief washed over her as soon as the doors swished shut, safe in her sanctuary and away from the rest of the crew.

I will not be trying romance ever again, she thought to herself bitterly.

"So why'd you collect thirty thousand gigaquads of information on the subject?"

She heard the Captain's profound voice accompany the words that came floating to the surface of her turbulent mind. It seemed so long ago when they briefly spoke in the Ready room as Captain Janeway got ready to leave for her diplomatic away mission. After the near violent confrontation in the mess hall between Seven and B'elanna early that morning, the Captain felt it necessary to inform Seven to reexamine her approach if she was to continue her research. Although Seven insisted she was not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship herself, Captain Janeway had seen right through her, effectively pointing out the lengths of which Seven had gone to just to explore that particular avenue.

That woman. She always seemed to see through Seven's otherwise impenetrable exterior somehow. This unsettled her at times, and for reasons she couldn't quite fathom. There were a lot of things about the Captain that Seven found puzzling, such as the way she smiled at Seven when she asked if she had considered trying romance for herself. Or the way the Captain's deep blue eyes seemed to burn as Seven stood close to her, helping her pin a pip on the Captain's dress uniform.

Deciding against retiring for the night in her alcove, she walked over to the computer console and called up the astrometric logs Voyager obtained over the last twelve hours. Seven had fallen severely behind in her duties in favor of her own personal ventures, much to her dismay.

Seven was determined to put the whole ordeal behind her as she immersed herself in the pure unadulterated data. But no matter how intently she focused, Seven was still bothered by the disastrous events that had occurred not even thirty minutes ago.

It was her first date. Her first genuine attempt at romance and it ended up being a complete and utter failure. Being a Borg for nearly her entire life gave her an especially bitter view on failure, for the Borg sought perfection. Failure, along with imperfection, was irrelevant and not an option.

Thanks to the Doctor's mentorship over the past few days and the conversation with the Captain earlier that morning, Seven analyzed the crew manifest for the most compatible candidate to engage in romantic relations with and landed on Lieutenant Chapman in Engineering. It seemed to make sense at the time based on the fact they both shared an interest in quantum mechanics, astronomy and music. One of the chapters in the Doctor's social lesson about romance stressed how important it was that there be strong compatibility between two potential mates after all.

The setting for the date took place at the ever popular Sandrine's, one of Lieutenant Paris's widely used holoprograms. Lieutenant Chapman was aesthetically pleasing enough, but Seven never felt more apprehensive in her life.

It didn't help that the man was extremely awkward, as if he had preferred to be anywhere else but here at a table with the former Borg. As a result, dinner between the two of them lasted all but five minutes when Seven accidentally spilled a little food on Chapman. Seven immediately stood, face flushing with embarrassment.

"I am sorry Lieutenant, please allow me to replicate you clean garments."

Chapman wiped the bits of food from his shirt with his cloth napkin, laughing nervously.

"No, no that's okay," he said as politely as he could, "there wasn't a lot on me."

Seven gingerly sat back down into her chair and watched as Chapman dropped the napkin onto his plate, still full of food barely eaten.

"I don't think I can eat anymore, I wasn't all that hungry to begin with."

"Oh I see," said Seven. She looked down at her own plate and found that the feeling was mutual. Getting used to eating solid food was still something she struggled with anyway. "I believe I am finished as well."

Chapman managed a small smile and took a sip of wine. He set the glass back down to the table and his gaze fell on the two holographic couples occupying the dance floor several meters from their table. Inspiration suddenly struck him.

"Um, I don't suppose you'd care to dance?"

A bit surprised but intrigued by Chapman's rather outgoing inquiry, Seven glanced at the patrons dancing and looked back at him.

"I am not certain that I can, I have not spent an adequate amount of time studying the subject."

"That's okay, I'm not a professional myself but it might be fun to try," he said, hoping she didn't detect the apprehension in his voice.

"Very well," Seven relented, "I will try."

Seven followed the Lieutenant to the dance floor and he held out a slightly shaky hand. Fortunately knowing enough about the basics, she hesitantly grasped his hand and they assumed the waltz position.

"Just follow my lead," said Chapman.

Seven nodded, feeling uneasy about being so close to a man she barely knew and nervous about messing up. The Lieutenant started to move in time with the music and Seven was finding herself able to keep up with his movements with little difficulty.

It was almost a pleasant experience. They were dancing successfully, and Seven even started to relax a little. But she had this curious sensation that something was missing. Their bodies were in extremely close proximity, a form of intimacy. She was still new at experiencing feelings typical of humans, but somehow she expected to feel something like arousal or desire at being so close to him. Seven couldn't be certain, but she really didn't feel anything of a romantic nature.

Dismissing her inner thoughts as simply inexperience, Seven concentrated on their dance. She saw one of the other couples on the dance floor twirl each other and proceeded to try twirling Chapman, not knowing how to precisely execute it without using too much force.

Chapman suddenly cried out and fell to his knees. He grasped at his shoulder, gritting his teeth and looking up at a horrified Seven of Nine, her mouth agape. The holograms nearby stopped their dancing to stare at the spectacle with concern.

"Are you okay Lieutenant? I seem to have miscalculated..."

"My shoulder," he hissed, "I think it might be dislocated."

"The Doctor should examine it at once, I will escort you to Sick Bay."

Chapman shook his head, wincing in pain as he carefully stood up. He still clutched his shoulder in an effort to keep it from being jostled. It was only for a brief second, but Seven clearly saw the look of indignation play across his face before he donned a more gentle expression to placate her.

"No, that's okay. I can get there by myself. It's probably nothing serious."

"If that is what you prefer," she said, knowing full well that it was probably for the best that Seven not accompany him.

She already felt an enormous amount of embarrassment that would only be made worse by going with him to Sick Bay and facing the Doctor. She knew that at some point they were going to have to talk about it, since he was her mentor in some respects, but she strongly preferred to delay that conversation for as long as possible until she was ready.

"If it means anything," Seven hesitated, carefully thinking of the appropriate thing to say, "I had a nice time, and I deeply apologize for injuring you, Lieutenant Chapman."

"It's okay Seven, I'm sure the Doctor will be able to fix me up," Chapman responded a little too cheerfully, "I had a nice time as well. I'll see you around then?"

Not really waiting for a reply back, he made a beeline for the holodeck doors and was gone, leaving Seven alone in the middle of Sandrine's dance floor.

Eight point three seconds passed by after the man had fled the holodeck whilst nursing his shoulder. The couples that stopped in the middle of their dance to survey the happening between Seven and Chapman only moments ago had already resumed their waltzes, moving with such computer programmed precision and grace that it made her feel resentful.

"Computer," the former drone called out in a clipped voice, "end program."

With a soft whoosh, the holodeck emitters disengaged and the environment of Sandrine's disappeared along with those insufferably perfect dancing holograms.

Wanting nothing more than to be back in Cargo Bay 2, she made for the nearest turbolift and rode it down to Deck Eight, successfully avoiding the gaze of any crew members that she happened to pass by in the corridors.

Seven looked at the time that was displayed on her computer console, sighing heavily. It was already past twenty-one hundred hours.

The Captain was due to come back aboard Voyager from her extended away mission the next day at nine hundred hours and was expecting to receive Seven's daily report later that morning.

Looking at her alcove with longing, the tall blonde knew that she would have to forgo regenerating for at least a few hours to catch up on the work she had neglected.

It took some effort, but Seven managed to push the incident with Chapman aside and started to work, carefully analyzing log after log and compiling the information into a comprehensible report for her Captain.

Seven finally finished the tedious work without so much as a break nearly two hours later. Feeling the exhaustion starting to take hold of her body, she wearily reached across her console and grabbed the nearest blank PADD to download the report.

Satisfied that she had caught up on her work, Seven stepped back from the computer console. She subconsciously lifted her right hand and massaged the back of her neck, her muscles feeling stiff from looking down at her console, and she headed for her alcove for some much needed regenerating. Something caught the blonde's eye as she stopped in front of her alcove before climbing up.

"Oh…"

Seven could vaguely make out her own reflection in the glassy black panel that glowed with streaks of green Borg technology at the back of the alcove. She looked down at her body. Somehow Seven had forgotten she was still wearing a beautiful light blue blouse and a black medium-length skirt, clothing that the Doctor had picked out for her date. Looking back up at her reflection again, she lightly ran her fingers down her golden hair, no longer pinned back but resting elegantly down her shoulders. Seldom did she deviate from her reserved but efficient hairstyle, so it was almost a shock to see her hair down, even to herself.

"Doctor to Seven of Nine."

Seven tensed up at the voice coming through the comm, an uncomfortable mixture of dread and shame surging within her. All Seven wanted to do was regenerate after a long day of stress and disappointment, not talk to the Doctor, her self-appointed mentor, about her failure at romance. At least not for a while.

"Go ahead Doctor," she replied with trepidation.

"Sorry to disturb you," said the Doctor, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "but I checked with the ship's computer to see if you were in the middle of a regeneration cycle and there didn't seem to be one in progress. I assumed you were still up and about."

"Yes I had some work to catch up on, however I am finished and preparing to regenerate," she said, hoping he would let her be.

"I see. Well, I thought you'd want to know that Lieutenant Chapman—", Seven grimaced upon hearing his name, "—is doing alright. Nothing that I couldn't fix anyway."

Granted, she did feel a little relieved that the Doctor was able to treat Chapman's injury, but she still strongly preferred that they not talk about this now. Couldn't the Doctor give her some space until she was ready to discuss it? Then again, the EMH was never known for having any tact.

"That is fortunate. Thank you for letting me know," Seven dryly replied.

"You're welcome," he said, "would you be able to stop by Sick Bay tomorrow morning? I have some scans I'd like to run on your cortical node for my research."

"Very well, I will 'stop by' in the morning," said Seven, almost rolling her eyes. She knew he wanted to do more than just run scans on her Borg technology, he was more than likely anxious to talk about her date and the scans were just a front.

"Thank you," the Doctor paused for a moment, "are you okay, Seven?"

Now becoming irritated, Seven felt the compulsive need to rub her temples as she had seen Captain Janeway do many times when dealing with the Doctor.

"I am fine, Doctor, I will report to Sick Bay as you have requested."

"Very well," he relented, much to her relief, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

At last, the comm went silent. Seven let out a sigh and took one last look at her reflection in the alcove before she walked off to the nearby storage container that held her belongings. She took out a neatly folded biosuit and promptly changed, glad to be rid of the dress clothes. After having closed the seam, she walked back to her alcove, stepping onto the platform and facing outward as she had done many times.

As the alcove powered up, Seven's eyes closed and she sensed her consciousness gradually fading away.

"Have you ever considered trying it yourself..."

Once more, she heard Captain Janeway's voice echo in her mind, right before the former Borg had fully slipped into a blissful state of regenerative unconsciousness.