Romance

(in which Seven takes a deeper breath and makes a decision)

By jeny_nour

Here, in astrometrics, standing as we often did, so close, yet with no

resolution to our nearness, with her voice in my ear, I wondered again

at her word: Romance?

Was that what the fumbling with Chakotay was attempting to bring about?

I pondered this word. Truly, do I owe a romance to...who?"

Him? Highly unproductive.

But with Kathryn, here with her smirk teasing me, `Be careful what you

wish for, Seven, You just might get it.'

"I'm serious." she giggled; most unlike her, "What good is Chakotay?"

She looked up into my eyes.

My assumption proven, she continued, "I'd trade him for you any day. I

can beat him in a fight." Ah. Humor. I remembered this.

Then she reached for me; at last the proximity had played its self

out to its fullest. I was most interested in what would come next.

"Do you want a fight, Seven, Will that do it for you?"

But I moved away, should I too be laughing? Within her reach? An

intriguing theory, yet, her words did not match her voice or the

softness in her eyes.

I found myself nearly stumbling back, stopped only by a single step against

the back of my calf. I turned from her.

"C'mer, I'll fight 'cha." Her voice humorous, her arms circling,

pinning herself against me. Her breath at my ear, "Loser gives what

the winner wants." She murmured.

I felt what the Doctor had described as goosebumps rise on my arms.

Did she know she was repeating Chakotay's line? To me- like this?

I froze, were those words originally hers? Repeated by him?

This- feeling- how it felt being controlled by her. The comfort in it.

The familiar. From that first time in the Brig. I decided.

I leaned back into her hold, thawing, sinking into it, `She is

Kathryn, my captain.' I told myself.

Kathryn lowered us to our knees, she licked at my neck, then bit my

earlobe: nothing like Chakotay at all, "C'mon, Seven, let's fight."

Her hips ground against me as she laid us on the deck. "We're so

perfectly matched, Let me fight you good and hard."

"Oh, Cap- Kathryn…"

That smile. Then her mouth came slowly toward mine, her hands peeling

away my bio-suit. She dragged her nails along my back as she brought

me down on top of her. "So light," she murmured, "Forget fighting,"

her breath warm in my ear.

Then I was on my back. How did she do that?

"I'm going to use my tongue to write you a poem, an epic, a classic,

about fireworks and skyscrapers. Pay attention, Seven," she whispered,

her voice at a remove, somewhere now nearer my knees, "how they look

at night on Earth."

Her hands on either side, slowly pushing my knees wide. There is no

need to pull away I reminded myself.

Her words from the holodeck, returning, echoing: "It's not as difficult

as it looks."

Romance.

I let the surrender begin.