DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount
Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn
and are copyright (c) 2004 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
There is Now
by Djinn
You watch her while she lies
sleeping. She's not as golden as you remember. Years apart must have given your
memories of her a gilded edge. You touch her cheek; your hand brushes the
implant, and she smiles in her sleep, her lips curving up in a graceful curve
that your memories did not embellish. You may have made her more lustrous than
she really is, but you didn't make her more beautiful, for she's as lovely as
you remember her.
More lovely, possibly,
because you were never able to lie this close to her. Were forbidden by your
own stupid rules on your own damn ship to touch her. Even when it was clearly
what she wanted you to do.
You were her mother, you
thought.
You didn't get involved with
your crew, you thought.
You were an idiot, you think.
Years. That's what you've
wasted. Years.
Your older self tried to tell
you that, tried to make you see that Seven would be the one thing you would be
willing to ravage time for. You accepted that, but you tried to spin the love
that was so clearly in the older version of your eyes into friendship, into
regard and respect but never desire, never lust. Never rock solid—hit you in
the gut till you can't breathe—love.
You won't make that mistake
again.
You lean down and let your
lips trace her cheekbones. Lightly, so lightly. You don't want to wake her. You
don't want this night to end. It's your first night, and you'll never get it
back again.
But when morning comes it
will be your first morning, and you know that it will be wonderful too. You'll
wake up next to her, cradled in her arms. Or you will if you ever fall asleep. You
don't sleep well on a normal night, aren't sure how you'll ever find slumber
when you have her here, next to you, with you. With you.
She's your lover now. You are
lovers. You try the words out in as many different ways as you can. You love
her. You will love her. You have loved her.
You have, God help you,
always loved her. And you let her go. You let Chakotay have her and take her
away and love her.
She let you let Chakotay take
her. Anger fills you, but you push it back. It isn't fair to get mad at her or
at Chakotay. But it's okay to push it back into yourself. You'll pay for your
stupidity in the way your body's no longer as limber as it once was. In the
gray you see claiming more and more of your hair.
You're old and you've wasted
so much of the time you could have had with her. You pushed her away when you
should have been loving her.
You realize she's watching
you, is no longer sleeping. A small smile makes her lips slide up, and the
expression is so beautiful that you have to lean in and kiss her.
She kisses you back, and you
feel as if you might drown in the sensation. Her lips are firm, and they touch
you with abandon. Seven doesn't know restraint, not in her intellectual
pursuits and not in the way she loves you with all that's in her. And not in
the way she hunted you down across the floor of the ballroom at your retirement
party. Not in the way she insisted you talk to her, made you look at her,
forced you to see her—see that she wanted you. When it was time to go, she took
your hand and led you to the coat room and then outside into the night.
She didn't ask where you
lived, just walked you home, her arm curled around yours. She didn't ask you if
she could come in, just followed you into the elevator and down the hall. When
you hesitated, she took your hand and held your palm up to the lock and opened
your door.
It was only then that she
waited. "If you do not want me," she said, "I will go
away."
It was such a simple
statement and, even after so many years among humans, it was said with the
clipped Borg tones that you remember—that you hear in your dreams. She no
longer regenerates, she no longer assimilates, but she will always be Borg.
She laughs now, and the sound
brings you back to the present and your bed that's no longer filled just by
you.
She laughs, and it's a
throaty chuckle, and then she shakes her head as if at some foolishness. "Kathryn,
has it occurred to you that you think far too much?"
She rolls to her side, and
you watch the sheet's progress as it slides down her body. You suddenly are
jealous of your own bed linens, and you laugh at the thought.
She sighs, but you think it
is more in drowsy contentment than because of any kind of sadness. She closes
her eyes, smiles again, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, to pull
you closer to her.
When she kisses you, time stops. When her mouth opens under yours, you're in heaven. You
could die right this moment, and it would all be worth it.
But you do not die, and that's
nice too.
She pulls you down, her hands
running through your hair as she nestles you against her soft, still-young
body.
Your body is far from young. You
were embarrassed at first when you watched her slip her clothes off. She's
still so beautiful, and you were afraid she would see what age does to a human
body and turn away from you.
She only smiled as she walked
toward you, only murmured your name as she pulled you to her and kissed you,
skin to skin for the first time.
You could have died at that
moment too, and it would have been a happy death. But life went on and so did
her kiss, only it changed to more as her tongue found yours and her hands began
to claim your skin as her own. Her touch is exquisite, and you find yourself
intensely jealous that Chakotay had her for so many years.
He was at your ceremony, didn't
appear to mind that his former wife was stalking you. Just smiled, raising his
glass to you in some message that only he understood.
You remember why you once
loved him. You wonder now if you could have chosen him if you had never stolen
Seven from the Collective. You think maybe you could have. But you never felt
this strange, feverish happiness with him. You're not sure you ever would have.
They say there's one person
for everyone. You think Seven is yours. And you wasted so many years pushing
her away, even more watching her make a life for herself with someone else when
she lost patience.
Even that powerful Borg
tenacity has its limits. She didn't wait forever.
Or maybe she did. Maybe she
did the only thing she could. She adapted. She didn't resist.
She waited—in her own way.
It's not very nice to
Chakotay to think that Seven was just biding her time with him, was just using
him to experience some part of the life you'd denied her. It's not very modest
of you to think Seven would have been that calculating, or that you would have
been that important to her. But then, you're not always very nice. It's
something you've learned with age. You know yourself better than you want to at
times.
You sigh.
"What is it?" Seven
asks.
"Did you love him?"
"Yes." There's no
emotion in Seven's voice. No warning not to pry, or invitation to delve deeper.
She answers the question. Nothing more.
"Why did you leave
him?"
"We left each
other."
You smile. Seven isn't making
this easy. You glance up at her and see that she's smiling slightly too.
"Why?" you ask.
"It was time." Seven
pushes you to your back and begins to kiss her way down your body, disappearing
under the sheets and making you giggle as she brushes a spot where you're
ticklish.
"How did you know it was
time?"
Seven reappears, her
expression resigned to more questions. "I just did." She smiles. "How
did you know it was time to let me in?"
You smile. "I just
did."
"See." Seven
disappears under the sheet again.
How did you know when she
stood at your door holding your palm to the lock that you would let her in this
time? What were you thinking as you watched her waiting for your answer, as you
pushed her inside your apartment and kissed her even before the door had a
chance to close?
Were you even thinking? Or
were you finally, thank God, acting without thought?
"I love you," you
say, your hand stealing under the sheet and finding her. She's soft, everywhere
you touch is soft. Hair, skin, but then your hand brushes the warm metal of an
implant, and you smile as you revise that statement. Almost everywhere you
touch is soft. And that's all right too. Makes her more like you.
"Why do you want
me?" you ask her.
You hear her sigh and she gives up on your body and moves back up so you're lying
close. The look she gives you is stern. "I was busy down there."
"I know. You can be busy
later." You grin at her.
She cannot hold the
sternness, begins to smile.
"Why do you want
me?"
"I love you." She
looks at you as if she doesn't understand why you need more than that.
But, of course, you do need
more than that. "Why?"
"Because I do."
You sigh.
"Does that make you
unhappy?" She nuzzles your neck and you laugh. "I would not want to
make you unhappy."
She's teasing you, and you
hear Chakotay in her tone. He's taught her to love. She's imprinted on him and
to some extent he's here in your bed too.
The thought makes you
jealous, but you find it soothing as well. And a bit arousing.
You sometimes wish you were a
less complicated woman.
"I'm not unhappy. In
fact, I'm very happy right now." You kiss her and the moment stretches on
forever, into the future and back into the past when an old woman who looked
more like you do now than you did then, showed up and tried to make you see
sense.
You think she knew you
wouldn't listen to her at first.
You wonder if she had any
idea how breathtaking it would be when you finally gave in.
"I pushed you
away," you whisper.
"Yes," Seven says. "You
did." She lies next to you, watching you.
"I'm sorry."
She doesn't tell you it's all
right. She doesn't berate you either. She waits, as if a sorry should be
followed by more.
"I wasted our
time," you say. "It's gone and we'll never get it back."
"If it is gone, and we
did not share it, then it was not our time."
That thought takes your
breath away—Seven takes your breath away. It's all so simple, so Borg. She
lives in the now. There are no regrets, just what is.
And you're what is. She's
what is. Together, you both are what is.
"I love you," she
says. "I would have waited forever."
"You've waited long
enough. We both have." You smile, feel the old Janeway grin finally.
Her face lights up, and you
realize that perhaps she isn't as composed as you thought. Perhaps she was
scared that you'd never let her in, and she really would have to wait forever.
You're glad she showed no
fear. You aren't sure you would have let her in if you hadn't believed that
resistance was futile.
"I love you," you
murmur as you kiss her.
This moment, this woman, this
life, they're yours. They're now.
You realize you're happy. And
very sleepy.
As you yawn, she smiles. "Can
you sleep now?"
You nod. You wonder if she
understands the gift she's given you. The peace that
seems to surround you is because of her, and you want to tell her, but a
lifetime of sleepless nights is making your eyes close. You turn to her and
curl around her.
She pulls you close, hold you
safe. "Sleep, Kathryn. Tomorrow is a new day. And we will enjoy it
together."
You smile, a drowsy half
smile.
And finally fall asleep.
FIN