Running Up That Hill:
A Janeway / Seven Story
Author: ladydameon
Co-Author(s) / Beta: Lain Stardust
General Disclaimer(s): See previous chapter(s).
Chapter 7: Imperfection Vignette
Rating: G / K+
Summary: Seven of Nine makes a decision.
Author's Note: Reading the previous chapters is recommended. If necessary, please visit Chrissie's Transcripts Site for a reliable transcript of Imperfection or for a more detailed synopsis. As previously mentioned in the Author's Notes of Chapter 4, Imperfection aired before Drive and Repression, and are viewed in that same order on the Season 7 DVDs. Again, this is our first major deviation from visual canon, which is not done arbitrarily. Unlike the series' previous rearrangement of episodes for presentation purposes, Imperfection wasn't meant to be shown out of the production order, and as such, the episode creates several key contradictions in the Voyager timeline: Tom Paris wearing a wedding ring before his marriage to B'Elanna Torres (Imperfection), the new Delta Flyer being constructed before it's tested (Drive), etc.
[Insert scene at END of episode: Early Alpha Shift]
Concluding her visit with Icheb in Sickbay, Seven of Nine wandered into the Mess Hall, unsure of what to do since the CMO was keeping her on medical leave status—wearing a cortical monitor, no less—for the next twenty-four hours. She found the room empty, which was normal. Lunch wouldn't be served for several hours, yet.
During Seven's six day regeneration, the crew had managed to fill the dilithium tanks, restoring Voyager to full operational capacity, thus allowing the Astrometrics Lab to resume standard functions. Currently, they were on course to an M-Class planet. The Delaney sisters had located the planet in response to the mineral and ore requests of Engineering and several other departments. With no sign of possible pirate pursuit, Captain Janeway gave the order to adjust course. The rumor mill was abuzz with the possibility of shore leave.
"Hello, Seven," Neelix greeted her, stepping out of the galley to place a bowl of fruit on the counter. "You just missed breakfast, but I could fix you a snack."
Turning to face the Talaxian, Seven replied, "Thank you, that won't be necessary."
"Let me know if you change your mind," he said slipping back into the kitchen. Neelix continued about preparing the night's dinner, a fusion stir fry. He thought something crisp and fresh from the Aeroponics Bay's latest yield would help maintain the crew's excitement for possible shore leave and promote the idea of being outdoors. Not to mention, the dish was extremely easy to cook once the ingredients were cut.
Humming, Neelix began trimming the various vegetables, casually noticing Seven of Nine watching him from the counter. He smiled to himself, realizing that he had missed the Borg's quiet presence. Surprised, Neelix was immensely pleased when Seven asked, "Do you require any assistance, Mr. Neelix?"
"I would love any help you'd be willing to give, Seven." The cook smiled and cleared off a suitable work area, all the while explaining what he wanted Seven to do for him: slice, chop, mince and julienne vegetables. He did a quick demonstration on each type of vegetable, explaining why each was prepared a certain way. Naturally, Seven of Nine got the idea and technique the first time.
The pair worked in relative silence, but Neelix couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that something was wrong. If he didn't know any better, he would say Seven seemed distracted. Of course, she wasn't on duty, and everyone knew she preferred to work in the Astrometrics Lab. Certainly, she didn't want to hang out in the kitchen.
"Neelix," Seven said, never looking up from her task—mincing garlic. "May I ask you a question regarding a personal matter?"
"Of course," he replied as smoothly as possible. A personal matter? Neelix was torn between elation and trepidation. Was it him, or did Seven seem to be doing this a lot more often?
Seven continued cutting, moving on to the carrots. She wanted to ask while the opportunity afforded it, but was not quite sure how to articulate the precise question. Of course, all of this uncertainty only served to irritate and fluster her more. When it came to technical dialogue, she had absolutely no problem; yet, things of a personal or emotional nature were a whole other matter. Finally, she said, "I am having conflicting feelings."
Neelix nodded, more for his own benefit. Automatically, he assumed it related to Icheb's current condition. "Icheb's going to be fine," he reassured. Sometimes comfort took more than a doctor's word, such as someone else believing it with you.
"I am confident Icheb will make a full recovery," Seven replied assuredly. "However, I am having difficulty reconciling an individual's actions during my convalescence."
Pursing his lips, Neelix thought back to the various happenings those two weeks Seven of Nine was essentially dying. He couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary, per se—at least nothing that wasn't expected, considering the situation. Tom Paris was a little antsy, though, everyone had assumed it was because of the severity of the procedure. But then again, wasn't the surgery spurred on by Icheb?
"Icheb just wanted to help," Neelix said.
Seven corrected the Talaxian's assumption. "I have come to terms with his actions." Of course, that didn't mean she had to like it, but regardless, she was proud of Icheb, proud of the individual he had become. The young man was grasping and understanding emotional concepts which had initially eluded her.
"Oh," he said, dumping his sliced veggies in a bowl. It might be best to wait on Seven for this one.…
"She wanted to take a live drone's cortical node." Seven stopped chopping, as she found that saying the words felt totally different from hearing them. The reality was hard to rationalize as Captain Janeway was also the same person who had purposely gotten herself assimilated to save complete strangers.
"The Captain?" Neelix guessed, watching Seven.
"Yes."
Cutting his gaze away for a moment, Neelix stepped over to the young woman. "It's not really surprising, Seven. Captain Janeway cares a great deal about her . . . crew." He knew he was missing something important from the expression on Seven's face.
"The Captain has instilled in me a value for all life." Seven looked up from her pile of julienned carrots as she said, "She was willing to risk her life to save me." She fixed Neelix with a hard stare and softly added, "She was willing to take another life for mine."
The rationale for a captain to sacrifice oneself or a few individuals for the greater good of the ship was logical, made complete sense. However, Captain Janeway's recent actions weren't as clear to Seven of Nine, which only served to confound her. There was no real guarantee that the first live node would have been successfully transplanted. That thirteen-point-one percent could have just as easily reared its ugly head with Icheb's cortical node, leaving one or both ex-drones dead. Naturally, this begged the question of what the captain would have done if the operation hadn't been successful.
Why is Seven reacting so strongly? With furrowed brows, Neelix asked, "How do you know this?"
"I overheard Lt. Paris and the Doctor talking during my visit with Icheb," Seven explained.
"So . . . Icheb and Seven, they're going to be alright?" Tom Paris asked, peering at the ex-drones through the office window. At the lack of response, he turned and leaned against the half wall, crossing his arms.
"They'll be fine. Icheb will be back to normal inside a week," the EMH finally said, never looking directly at Paris. "Seven's perfectly fine now. I simply preferred that she slowly transition back into her normal routine."
"Just in case," Paris finished softly.
"Just in case," the Doctor echoed.
Shifting, as if uncomfortable, Paris asked, "How'd you talk her out of it?"
The EMH had spun in his desk chair, entering and checking various inconsequential things on his workstation. "I don't know what you're referring—"
"Come on, Doc!" Taking a big step forward, Paris dropped his palms heavily onto the desktop. "We both know she was ready to take on an armada of cubes to get Seven a new cortical node."
"You'd do well to keep your voice down," hissed the hologram, finally looking at Paris. "This is a Sickbay." He paused, gaze cutting away and back. "I didn't actually talk her out of anything. I simply reminded her I wasn't giving up, and that despite our best efforts, we might have still lost Seven."
Standing upright, Paris looked around a bit aimlessly before sliding into the visitor's chair. He wasn't really sure what to say as he had hoped the Doctor would alleviate some of his anxiety and concern for his captain. "Have you mentioned this to anyone?"
Startled, the EMH narrowed his eyes at Paris. "What? Absolutely not, and neither should you for that matter, Mr. Paris." He was caught off guard by the strange look on the lieutenant's face.
"Don't worry," Paris said as he stood, looking out the office window at the ex-drones again. "My lips are sealed." He paused for a few moments, lost in thought. Eventually, he asked, "Do you need me for anything else today?" His duty shift wasn't slated to end for another four hours.
"No," the Doctor waved absently, almost happy Paris asked to leave early. "Go on, I can handle things here." He pursed his lips as Paris nodded his farewell and gave Seven a brief wave on his way out. There were a lot of delicate decisions to consider.
"Eavesdropping, Seven?" Neelix lightly scolded. There were plenty of times he'd gotten in trouble himself by 'overhearing' conversations. "Things can quite easily be taken out of context, especially if you can't see their expressions."
"Irrelevant." Seven turned and faced Neelix. "Tonal differentials in speech are more reliable than simply observing facial expressions." She raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to question her precision.
"Alright, alright," he said, waving his hand about in the air. Neelix leaned against the side of the counter. After thinking for few moments, he had a good idea what Seven's personal matter might be, but he needed her to say it. He certainly didn't want to direct her someplace prematurely. "So, what exactly is your question?" Intently, he watched as Seven was about to speak . . . but stopped before even opening her mouth.
Seven of Nine was becoming frustrated over her inability to voice her rather simple question. She kept searching around her as if the environment would somehow help. "How do you know when you are attracted to someone?"
Nodding as he mulled the question over, Neelix took stock of the unusual shifts in the Borg. The rather meekly asked question was tainted with uncharacteristic uncertainty in her eyes—at least, as far as Seven of Nine was concerned. Suddenly, he felt an enormous amount of pride. She came to me, he thought. With that pride, he also felt the overwhelming weight of responsibility settle across his shoulders. "Have you talked about this with the Doctor?" he asked.
"No," Seven answered. "I am uncomfortable asking for guidance from him on this topic."
"Okay," he nodded, thinking. Best to avoid that.… "Just so that I'm clear, would you try to describe what you're feeling?"
Taking and releasing a slow breath, Seven resumed preparing the vegetables as her mind reviewed all of her previous research. After a few moments, her voice was soft as she spoke. She described the flutters in her stomach in response to a simple smile, the tightening sensation in her chest when she was the sole focus of the person, the indescribable warmth at laughter, and the invisible pull to be near.
Neelix was surprised by the elegance with which Seven relayed her feelings, even through her self-perceived inadequacies. He also realized what she laid out for him was more than simple attraction. She had described the fledglings of romantic love. Of course, Neelix couldn't very well tell her that. It wouldn't do at all.
Oh, sounds like you're in for one heck of a ride, Captain. The Talaxian was precariously caught between a cringe and a laugh. He knew for a fact half the crew would love the opportunity to date—or more accurately, have sex with—Seven of Nine. Thus was the curse of being considered attractive, as it was in most humanoid cultures. On the other hand, getting a date with Seven had oddly improved Lt. Chapman's luck with the ladies. All of this proved the crew's interests were primarily physical in origin; very seldom had anyone expressed any true interest in Seven's intellect or personality, aside from a select few.
However, Neelix also knew better than to drop the L word. Seven would have to discover and determine that aspect of relationships for herself, but his instincts told him she had already fallen. Of course, Neelix held a special place in his heart for Voyager's feisty leader but had long ago accepted the impossibility of such a relationship. He caught Seven's expectant look, had seen her give the very same look to Captain Janeway many times in the Mess Hall over breakfast.
"Well," Neelix cleared his throat. "I think it's safe to assume you're attracted to Captain Janeway."
"Are my reactions that transparent?" Seven asked, slightly horrified as she finished with the last carrot.
Mentally kicking himself, he said, "No, not at all. It's just that impartial observers are better at being objective."
"How does one know when another is attracted to you?" Seven deposited her various piles of vegetables into the appropriate bowls.
"Depends on the person, actually," Neelix responded, removing his apron. His job was done until thirty minutes before mealtime. "Now, I can't tell you whether or not the captain is attracted to you."
Hanging up the apron, he noticed the slightly despondent look. Obviously, that wasn't the answer she was hoping for.… Sticking his head out of the kitchen, Neelix checked to make sure that no one else was loitering in the Mess Hall. Returning his attention back to Seven's plight, he considered his role in the larger scheme of things. It could quite easily backfire. He could almost hear the captain's scolding. With a shiver, Neelix shook his head, clearing away the unwanted images of fire and pain.
With a sigh, Neelix continued, "However, I can possibly help you determine if she is.…" He might never have the ability to win Kathryn Janeway, but he believed this young woman might stand a chance. Of course, being the ship's one-and-only Morale Officer and Ambassador, the Talaxian had inside knowledge about the captain—knowledge that possibly only Lt. Commander Tuvok had.
"Acceptable," replied Seven, practically standing at attention. Intently, she listened, digesting all of the information—some of which wasn't necessarily applicable to the situation or her intentions.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
[Beta Shift]
Seven of Nine stepped out of the locker room, wearing her black, full-cover swimsuit with electric blue racing stripes and her hair in a tight ponytail, gathered at the nape of her neck. Looking down the hall, she considered her options, remembering her previous conversation with Janeway about socialization.
Run every other Thursday to promote socialization, Voyager's holographic public pool program provided a facility containing four separate, Olympic-sized pools. Each was geared towards specialized water activities and, as such, the crew tended to enjoy group sports: water polo, pool volleyball, a bit of competitive diving and swimming, etc. Until recently, Seven had no real interest in pools or any other related activity. However, that all changed when the EMH had included swimming as part of the captain's physical therapy.
Walking down the wide, open hall, Seven glanced into each area as she passed. A loud game of water polo was currently underway in Pool Two. She paused a moment, watching the boisterous play.
Ensign Machesney noticed the ex-drone out of the corner of his eye. When the current play ended, he swam to the side of the pool. "Heya, Seven, would you like to play?" he asked with an honest smile. His short raven hair was sculpted wildly by the rough water play.
Slightly surprised by the offer, Seven said, "Thank you, but I believe I shall pass."
"Okay," the ensign said. "Maybe next time?" Machesney rejoined the game, splashing the perplexed look off of a teammate's face.
Ignoring the chatter from the other pools, Seven continued down the hall. She entered the last pool room which was blissfully quiet. Looking around, she was about to leave and recheck the other areas when a blur caught her eye, slipping into the water with a marginal splash.
In her grey, Starfleet variant swimsuit, Kathryn Janeway stood on the edge of the 10 meter diving platform, questioning her own sanity. It had been years since she dove from this height, and it wasn't like relearning tennis. This had the potential to hurt—a lot! Although unsure as to exactly why, she felt able-bodied enough to attempt a high dive. The five and seven had gone well enough. Could this burst of physical activity be a result of all the physical training with Tuvok?
Lousy time for a midlife crisis, she thought, stepping backwards several feet. The Delta Quadrant wasn't the place to relive her dare devil days of youth. Of course, those days only ended when she was stranded in the DQ in the first place. Her rebellious streak had the ire to bristle and balk, desperate to shed the mantle of responsibility, if only for a moment. After all, she was on the Holodeck with the safeties on.
Centering her thoughts, Janeway sprinted down the platform, vaulted, slipped into a tuck, and completed one full somersault before entering the water, straight, toes extended. She felt exhilarated, swimming to the surface and over to the side of the pool. Lifting herself out, the captain stayed seated on the edge, swinging her feet idly through the water.
The nice thing about Pool Four was the panoramic view of the ocean. Also, most of the crew didn't filter back here because of the pool's high dive design profile. Only about twenty onboard crewmembers were competitive divers.
"Impressive," Seven of Nine said, joining Janeway at the pool's side. She didn't miss the brief startle which almost instantly morphed into a bright and pleasant smile.
"Thank you. Of course, it's been awhile, mind you." Waiting until Seven settled beside her, the captain slipped her fingers through her hair. "I wasn't expecting you to join me today."
Seven didn't miss the softening in Janeway's voice or the almost expectant gleam in her blue eyes. "Initially, I was unsure if I would be able to participate in our lessons today. However, the Doctor agrees the low-impact water exercises may prove beneficial." Her stomach tightened at the answering grin.
"Whenever you're ready."
Nodding, Seven slid into the water, her blond ponytail floating behind her as her feet couldn't touch the bottom. Treading, she watched as Janeway pushed off the ledge, sliding into the pool and under the water, noticing the distinct differences in the captain's physical appearance since their first pool encounter. From what Seven could discern, Janeway's arms and legs had achieved a greater muscle mass and definition, and she found herself admiring the difference.
"How does your regimen with Lt. Commander Tuvok proceed?" Seven asked when the captain resurfaced.
"Oh, it's proceeding," Janeway said dryly, brushing stray hairs out of her face. Some days, she thought Tuvok was trying to kill her, getting back for all the craziness he suffered at her hand. "He's considering recertifying the crew's physical condition in the next few months, just needs to develop a venue and find the time."
The captain made a mental note to speak about the recertification with Chakotay. Sadly, the crew was long overdue for their physical benchmarks, not that they would do Voyager any good. However, the tests would help establish a gauge for general physical fitness and allow appropriate measures to be taken to continue the crew's good health and safety. Neelix's cooking was definitely a godsend, but some had started developing a spare tire during the last year—the captain included. Absently, she ran her hand over her now much flatter stomach.
The pair began their lesson. Seven wasn't necessarily pleased about learning submerging tactics, but she went through the various processes and exercises. Eventually, the idea about being underwater didn't seem to bother her so much. And as her comfort level increased, Janeway increased the difficulty of their activities, making them swim lower and longer each time. The Borg had mastered the techniques and methods without much effort—her biggest obstacle being her reluctance. However, from here on, the captain knew Seven's proficiency would depend solely on her comfort level, which would improve with more exposure and greater confidence.
"I think that'll do for today," Janeway said, climbing out of the pool via the side ladder. Grabbing a folded towel off the rack, she smirked, drying off her face, arms and head. Seven of Nine was watching her from the center of the pool. Stopping mid swipe of the towel, she cajoled, "Unless you want to try a dive.…" An impish glint tainted her eyes.
Considering the option, Seven raised her implanted brow at the captain. She glanced briefly at the diving platform, fully aware she was being teased. Returning her focus to Janeway, she said, "No; however, I would not be averse to observing you. The process is quite aesthetically pleasing."
There was an unfamiliar intensity in Seven's eyes as she simply treaded water, gaze steady on her captain.
A long-forgotten sensation traveled along Janeway's spine as she was drawn into the moment, feeling the pull of mutual attraction. She could almost believe.… The captain smiled, gaze darting away, while running a hand through her damp hair. She had exhibited better control over herself by keeping her naturally flirty behavior in check. In spite of the physical intimacy of the activity, Janeway thought today's lesson had gone well with no extraneous conversation. That was, of course, how Seven of Nine preferred it. However, she hadn't steeled herself against Seven's behavior towards her.
The next thing Janeway knew Seven was exiting the pool via the side-ladder. Retrieving her own towel, Seven said with a hint of disappointment, "Perhaps another time."
"I didn't realize you watched any of the crew's competitions, Seven."
Seven ran her towel over her arms. "I do not. However, after observing your degree of skill, it would be a natural conclusion." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Janeway's brief wide-eyed look.
Did she just…? Suddenly, the captain felt flushed as her stomach fluttered. Not one to be out done, Janeway said, "That's a shame. Some of the usual drivers are truly exceptional. You should attend the next dive meet."
At least five of the Starfleet divers had participated off-and-on in the professional Federation diving circuit when in the Alpha Quadrant.
"I shall consider your invitation, Kathryn." Seven deposited her towel into the used bin. "If you will excuse me, I wish to visit with Icheb."
"Of course," Janeway replied, throat dry. Her eyes tracked Seven, followed her as she walked around the pool and disappeared down the hall. A grin appeared as Janeway finished drying off and tossed her towel into the bin.
Maybe the good captain was still keyed up over the cortical node dilemma. Maybe Janeway was imagining the subtle, intelligent, flirtatious behavior that was just so damned irresistible, at least to her. There wasn't any concrete evidence either way. So, who was the woefully romance-free captain to deny the attentions—imagined or not—of an attractive female?
Janeway frowned. That attitude would lead her into trouble—trouble she couldn't afford—but why did it feel so right? Why had it proven to be so difficult to keep her distance from Seven of Nine? With a sigh, she realized several minutes had passed as she stared absently at the water before her. Shaking her head, she slipped into the locker room to change, lost in thought.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Chapter 8:
Perceptions