Chapter 4

Part 1

Tapping idly on the arm of her favourite chair, Janeway was counting down the minutes until the end of her shift. She should really have been on the bridge in order to hand over officially to Chakotay, who had the night shift, but the Captain had instructed Tuvok to do so instead. Nothing of note had occurred anyway, and Voyager was on course at high speed. Although outside the ship things were rather uninteresting, it was inside Voyager where all the action was. Having heard rumours of a party that evening in the former observation lounge, Janeway had brought forward the meal that she was planning with Seven-of-Nine, and Neelix would be sending it up at 19.00 hours. Seven herself would finish her shift in just over half an hour.

They were still there. Despite the fact that they weren't 'art' and never had been, Janeway couldn't bring herself to move them. They seemed less menacing now, though, and more amusing, a reminder that her lover possessed a humour and wit that was so often hidden. She regarded the one she had broken, the 'frailty of human consciousness', and it occurred to Janeway that as an entirely different joke it had quite possibly been designed to fall apart as soon as one so much as breathed on it. The more the Captain learned about her enigmatic, ex-Borg partner, the more she felt there was to know.

Janeway, though she had been officially on duty, had had a productive afternoon. Having contemplated several courses of action regarding Seven's 'art' prank, which had fooled Janeway completely, the Captain had settled for getting her own back, beating Seven at her own game, as it were. Above the shelves on which the Borg's sculptures stood, Janeway had placed several pieces of her own artwork. All were drawings on paper, one was of Voyager, another was a sketch of a sleeping Seven-of-Nine, one showed a house with a few trees. There were five in total – suitably entitled 'Voyager', 'Seven', 'House', 'Dog' and 'Snowman' – and every one resembled a five-year-old's work, with shaky lines, bold colourful scribbles and looking very little like what it was supposed to picture. In the corner of each one was a small signature - Janeway's – and they were all framed with thick, multi-coloured plastic. Janeway was pleased with her efforts, though she was worried that she might not be able to stop herself laughing, and had spent a good portion of the afternoon practising keeping a straight face.

Part 2

"I'm not sure I see the joke here," said Tom, frowning at his half-Klingon girlfriend who grinned back anyway.

"If you don't see it, I can't explain it to you," declared B'Elanna Torres, casually tossing aside her uniform jacket onto their bedroom floor as she wandered over to the wardrobe and yanked it open.

Paris picked up the black-and-yellow item and folded it neatly before draping it over the back of a chair. He sat down on the bed, not really noticing as Torres shrugged out of her top and stood half-naked whilst she chose what to wear. "Well, I don't see it," he repeated, flopping onto his back.

"Well then, I can't explain it to you!" snapped B'Elanna, her patience wearing thin. Paris wasn't normally this dense, she thought, picking out dark trousers and a forest-green blouse that was cut low on the chest.

Tom thought about B'Elanna's story – fake art, a confused Captain, breaking and entering, damaging property – and genuinely could not see what was causing the engineer to crack up every time she thought about it. Perhaps it was the way she described it, Tom considered, deciding that maybe he should ask Seven and hear it from the horse's mouth.

B'Elanna's words cut into his musings. "Aren't you getting changed?" It was phrased as a question, but by the tone it was anything but. Tom rolled over and smiled.

"Relax, B'Elanna, the party doesn't start for another hour and a half!"

"But you have to put up the decorations," she reminded him pointedly, "plus prepare the bar and the food, arrange the tables, think about the naming ceremony – who will perform it, what you will say and all the rest. You are not going to let Neelix do all the work for your party, do you hear? So, are you getting changed?"

Tom sighed and scooted to the edge of the bed, pushing himself to his feet. About to peer into his half of the wardrobe to have a look at what he might wear, the helmsman found himself with a face full of clothing.

"Wear this," ordered Torres, thrusting several items in his direction, "but take a shower first. I'll head up there now."

"Aye, Sir," replied Tom, with only the slightest trace of sarcasm. Sarcasm and Klingons were a painful mix, as he had experienced on more than one occasion. Receiving a glare in return, the young Lieutenant hastily retreated to the bathroom.

Part 3

Janeway was seated at her dining table, contemplating a half-finished 1000-piece jigsaw that showed a stunning view of Earth rising above the Moon's horizon, when the doors to her quarters opened, precisely on time. "Hey," she called, without turning around, and was surprised and pleased when a pair of long arms encircled her shoulders, and a soft kiss was planted on her cheek. "That'd better be you, Seven," joked the older woman, leaning her head back to receive a longer kiss, this time on the lips. "I could get used to this."

"You will," replied Seven, hugging her partner a little longer before letting go and moving away, only to stand uncertainly in the middle of the room. It was the first day that the two women were living together, and the ex-Borg seemed unsure of what to do.

Taking pity on her, Janeway stood and approached her lover, putting an arm around the tall blonde's shoulders which meant that the Captain had to stand on tiptoes. "This is your home now, Seven. Whatever you want to do when you are here, don't feel that you have to ask permission. Relax, chat, read, have a drink or whatever – it's entirely up to you. If you want to talk about work, that's ok, but if possible let's try to keep work outside our quarters. Come on, let's sit for a while. Would you care for a glass of wine?"

Seven agreed, though still looking a bit out of place, and accepted a glass that was offered to her. Both women walked over to the comfortable chairs and the low table where they set their glasses, taking separate chairs but ones which were close together. They smiled at each other and talked for a few minutes, and inside Janeway was on tenterhooks. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the younger woman's glance strayed to the shelves by the door.

The ice-blue eyes widened at first, watched carefully by the Captain, then narrowed as Seven studied the pictures that adorned the wall above her sculptures. Janeway continued to talk, as though she hadn't noticed, and it was only when she had asked a question and got no response that she finally mentioned the drawings.

"I see you noticed my pictures, Seven," Janeway said animatedly, nodding her head towards them. "I was so inspired by the obvious passion that you had for your art that I dug out some of my best work, and also drew a new one this afternoon. The third one along is for you; it's entitled 'Seven'."

For several seconds the Borg didn't speak, but continued to regard the simplistic, childish sketches with little emotion showing. Eventually, she replied, and though Janeway had to control herself with some effort, she was somewhat disappointed at the Borg's careful – and unexpected – use of tact. "It is very nice."

"And what about the others?" prodded the Captain, her eyes meeting Seven's, who looked away quickly, staring again at Janeway's pictures.

"They do not demonstrate the technical skill I have seen in other drawings," started the younger woman slowly, and Janeway thought that now she would begin to enjoy herself. She was wrong. "Yet they possess a certain charm, a childlike innocence that is quite…attractive. Perhaps you would do a larger work some time, one which we could place in the bedroom?"

Janeway was unsure whether her leg was being pulled (again) or if her partner was expressing herself genuinely. There was no indication that Seven was teasing her, but then again the ex-Borg had remained straight-faced during the whole unveiling of her 'sculptures' earlier in the day. Deciding that either way it didn't matter, for clearly her plan of getting even had fallen woefully short of the mark, the older woman pushed herself up and took a step sideways to where Seven was sitting, formally upright in an armchair.

Sinking down onto her lover's knee, Janeway put her arms around the blonde's slim waist and snuggled down against Seven's body, both women still wearing their uniforms with the coloured stripes; Janeway's a deep red, Seven's the light green that the Captain had given her. Her head rested on the younger woman's shoulder, and Janeway could hear the rhythmic thump of Seven's heart as they cuddled, relaxing together. It was a moment of pure tenderness, two people in love simply holding each other without speaking.