The BLTS Archive- The Borg and The Beautiful
by Suz Voy (suzvoy@tesco.net)

---

Yup, it's the sequel to DQ90210.

Archive: Do it!

Disclaimer - Mighty Paramount (double cough) own the names, and the
ship. That is all.

---

They had recently copulated; of that Seven of Nine was absolutely
certain.

During their time together as a couple, Seven had studied Lieutenants
Paris and Torres frequently, curious as to what was so 'special' about
a romantic relationship. She had frequently observed the signs of the
physical aspects of their relationship, and she was witnessing those
signs in the Captain and Commander at the moment. They were certainly
not as obvious as they had been between the Lieutenants, but there was
no doubt that they were there. The Captain and Commander were
obviously trying to keep their relationship as quiet as possible.

Seven did not know how to react. Seven did not know what her reaction
was, or should be.

All she knew was that she was sitting at a table in the mess hall by
herself, holding a fork that was midway to her mouth, staring at her
senior officers.

The Commander had told Seven that he believed copulation was something
she was not ready for. She had been curious - at the time and still
was - as to his reasoning, but he had been too tired to explain what
he described as something that 'could complicate their relationship'.
True, she had never copulated before, but she was well acquainted with
the process, having assimilated a large amount to data on the subject.

It was only then that she realised her fork was still hovering in
mid-air and that she should do something with it. There were two
choices at her disposal; allow the fork to continue its journey to her
mouth where upon she could ingest the portion of food, or, she could
lower the fork back to her plate.

She quickly chose the latter course of action, pushing the tray away
slightly after she had lowered the fork. Her stomach seemed to be
producing uneasy sensations - the cause of which were unknown. Perhaps
a visit to the Doctor would confirm that indeed there was a minor
malfunction with her biological systems.

Nodding to herself, she picked up the tray and began to return it to
Neelix, when she saw someone sitting at a table by himself.

She had not observed that individual in the room earlier. She wondered
why she had not noticed his entrance.

Since his rapid departure from the Sandrines holoprogramme twelve days
ago, she had not yet enquired as to his reasoning for leaving so
quickly. She had seen him, briefly, when on duty, but he had not
spoken to her at all.

With a new purpose in mind, she redirected her feet to his table and -
without invitation - sat opposite him, placing her own tray down next
to his.

The last time she had sat opposite him in the mess hall, he had been
mutilating his meal with a fork. His behaviour had not altered by a
great degree. He was currently in the middle of stabbing a carrot
repeatedly with the sharp prongs of his fork. This time, however,
there did seem to be a greater deal of maliciousness to the act. While
before he had merely appeared depressed, he now appeared to be
enjoying the destruction of the orange-coloured vegetable.

Lieutenant Paris did not react when she sat opposite him. He did not
look up, continuing his mission by creating even more holes in the
already desecrated carrot.

When he eventually looked up, it was only to glance at the Captain and
Commander before returning his gaze to his plate.

Seven's intention of questioning him as to his behaviour in Sandrines
altered. Instead, she decided to voice an opinion of which she was
almost certain he shared.

"They have copulated."

When he said nothing, she added "Recently."

Lieutenant Paris winced then, at the very least moving the blankness
that had settled over his face. He halted his work with the fork.
"Yeah Seven, thanks. Like that mental image wasn't in my mind enough
already." Looking disgusted at himself and the situation, he threw the
fork down and sat up straight, finally looking at her face.

"Then you do agree with my statement."

He nodded impatiently. "Yes, I do. The evidence is sitting ten feet
away."

Nodding, she tried to glance at them subtly. Through her observations
of them in Sardine's she had concluded that they had not yet copulated
then. While they certainly appeared close, they did not appear as
close as they did now. There had been a 'something' missing. She did
not know what that 'something' was and it frustrated her greatly. She
disliked anything that was unspecified.

They were talking quietly; the Captains hands frequently moving, but
never touching the Commander in a way that could be construed as
containing amorous intent. Still...Seven knew. They were not kissing,
nor were they staring at each other with what Naomi Wildman described
with some disgust as 'gooey eyes'. Seven had dismissed the expression
once as hyperbole, but when she had seen Ensigns Kim and Wildman
together, she decided that 'gooey eyes' was indeed an appropriate
description, if not particularly accurate.

Still...Seven knew.

As did Lieutenant Paris.

The Captain said something that made the Commander smile.

The uneasy sensations in her stomach returned, and it was only at that
moment that she became aware of their former absence.

She met the Lieutenants gaze. "If you find if difficult to watch them
together, why did you come here?"

He sighed. "Because I can't keep avoiding them, Seven. Someone's going
to notice."

Seven rose her chin a little. "You seemed to be doing an efficient job
of avoiding me."

Paris winced, again, and looked down. "I apologise."

"I do not enjoy being avoided." It was not particular complaint; more
a statement of fact and a warning for the future.

He met her gaze once more. "I'm sorry, really. It's just...at that
moment in time I just couldn't deal with any aspect of the situation.
I didn't want to be with anyone, especially you." As her eyebrow rose
in a silent question, he continued. "You're a reminder. When I look at
you I think..." He hesitated, but at her glare continued. "...that in
a perfect Universe, you would be with him and I would be with..."

His words faded before he actually said it, but to Seven the
implication was absolutely clear. "I see. Now that you have decided
that avoiding them would be pointless, I trust you will no longer
avoid me." It was not a question.

Paris formed a tiny grin. "Aye, Captain."

Her eyebrow rose again, but this time it was in slight acknowledgement
of his joke. "Human males have a most inefficient proclivity for
avoiding females when they do not wish to face a particular situation.
At least, I have observed this from both you and the Commander."

That caught his interest. "Chakotay avoided you?"

Suddenly ashamed, embarrassed, exhilarated and having no idea why, she
blinked repeatedly until she could wrestle her unexpected reactions
under control. Once they were she regarded the Lieutenant with all the
impassiveness she was capable of. "Yes. Am I to assume from these
experiences that all human males are likely to act in the same
manner?"

Chuckling lightly, he tried not to look at the couple located a few
feet away. "Well, Seven, every man is different. But since the dawn of
time," He continued dramatically "and the creation of the first human,
men have always tried to woo the hearts of the women they desire.
Several hundred thousand years later, and we still haven't got it
right." He shrugged. "Something tells me it's not going to happen
anytime soon."


---

Kathryn Janeway was doing her damnedest not to smile. It was - not
unexpectedly - quite a task. She had just been through an extremely
interesting evening, night, and early morning. Now she was sitting
opposite her First Officer and lover in the mess hall, her hair
probably a little too mussed...her skin probably a little too
flushed...her lips probably a little too swollen...her thoughts still
probably a little too impure...and she didn't care.

Except...

...except for two people.

Except for the two people who were sitting ten feet away, trying not
to look at them.

It made sense, really. There was little point in either of them
avoiding her and Chakotay. People would start to notice if they kept
it up, and while they weren't actually coming over to their table to
have a conversation with them, at least they weren't avoiding them all
together.

And...Kathryn felt guilty. It was an emotion she had grown accustomed
to, but usually in relation to her job as Captain, not to the part of
her that was Kathryn. She had...grown closer to Tom, and Chakotay had
done so with Seven. She had even pursued a relationship with the pilot
- or, more accurately, he had pursued one with her. She hadn't turned
him away and now...

She hated to think what he was going through. Kathryn knew the
defences, knew that if she asked he'd tell he was just fine "Captain"
although it was nice of her to care. Knew that he would be lying.

So, that was why she was sitting opposite her lover, hiding the big
damn grin that wanted to spread out onto her face. She told herself
that she deserved it, that anyone would after such a long time of not
having what you really wanted...and then she would look at Tom. And be
reminded.

In the mess hall, she talked to Chakotay, joked with him, discussed
reports; everything a dutiful Captain and First Officer were supposed
to do. She didn't touch him, didn't laugh too much at his jokes (which
were pretty twisted anyway), didn't gaze lovingly at every word he
said, every move he made. It would be twisting the knife, somehow.

Chakotay seemed to understand, but then that been his problem for a
long time. He always understood. He was always understanding, and in
the end she had been the one to come to him, even though she didn't
really know how to say what she wanted to say.

But he understood then, and now.

He said nothing about it, simply joining in her conversations about
nothing that really mattered, nodding and grinning and laughing when
it was appropriate. She knew he would address it later, when they were
alone, probably in her quarters. He would sit next to her on the sofa,
possibly take her hand and gently ask how long she wanted to keep
their relationship a secret, and that he would wait until she was
ready if he needed to. Then he would make love to her.

She liked that idea.

When breakfast was finished they stood, thanked Neelix, and left the
room calmly, professionally, not drawing any unwarranted attention.

They walked along the corridor, nodding at any crew members they
passed, looking every inch the respectable commanding officers of
Voyager.

They arrived at the turbolift, waited for Nicoletti to get out, then
they stepped in and ordered the 'lift to the bridge.

That was when he kissed her.

It surprised the hell out of Kathryn. They certainly hadn't got into
the habit of immediately throwing themselves at each other when they
were alone together. In fact, the only times they did do that was when
they were in either of their quarters.

But here...knowing that he hadn't halted the turbolift, knowing that
it was still continuing its journey...she kissed him back, fully, and
pulled away just in time for the turbolift doors to open. But she had
to remind herself that she had to move her legs, and had anyone really
been studying the 'lift they would have noticed the delay and known
that something was going on.

No one was looking, and when she started to take a step out he grabbed
her arm and tugged her back in, then waited for the doors to close.

She started to speak, started to tell him that he'd better have a damn
fine reason for his actions besides the obvious physical aspects, that
he'd better not make a habit of it...then stopped before she had even
started when he placed his finger over her lips.

"I'm not going to hide this, Kathryn. I won't flaunt it, but if
someone asks me I'm not going to lie to them."

She started to tell him that he had no right to do that, no right to
be able to demand that... "Why?" She surprised herself with the
question.

He met her gaze. "This is something that I've wanted for a very long
time. I'm not going to deny it. To anyone."

And Kathryn found herself agreeing, which surprised her even more.
Perhaps Tom had been right about Chakotay.

Nodding, he smiled and removed his finger, swinging his arm towards
the doors. "Shall we?"

---

There had to be some universal plan to piss him off. He was sure of
it. Sure, Tom knew that on the whole life was just 'okay'. There were
moments of sadness, and if you were lucky, more than a few moments of
absolute happiness, but mostly it was just 'life'. Someone like
Chakotay probably would have appreciated that; the very fact that he
was alive at all.

Right now, Tom Paris didn't.

He was in Astrometrics, which was a puzzle in itself. He almost never
worked in Astrometrics. He would sometimes transfer conn reports or
deliver them in person in the form of a PADD, but he didn't *work*
there. It wasn't his job. Being at the conn and helping in sickbay
were his jobs, even if he didn't particularly appreciate the second
one.

Yet here he was. In Astrometrics. Alone, thankfully. But he knew that
in the worst Universe of all bad Universes, at any moment Seven was
going to come strolling - or, stampeding - in and he'd have to face
her all over again. He'd had enough of that this morning.

He didn't think that he'd been ordered to work here under any
particularly malicious intent. He wasn't really needed on the bridge
because all Voyager was doing was flying in a straight line and -
apparently - they needed his piloting expertise to help anticipate
possible obstacles and their outcomes on the ship. Frankly, Tom
couldn't see why he couldn't do that from the bridge. But there was no
way he was going to argue with the woman he still imagined himself
with in front of the rest of the bridge crew. No way at all.

Tom sighed, and again considered himself lucky that Seven wasn't
there.

The doors to the room hissed open. In less than a second the muscles
in his neck tensed, his back stiffened, his eyes squeezed shut, and a
headache with the force of a photon torpedo hit his brain. He spoke
through clenched teeth, trying to relax but failing, knowing with an
utter certainty who was in the doorway, staring at his hunched body
with curious eyes. "He-llo, Seven." There. That sounded almost human.

"Did I have a sex change in the middle of the night and no one told
me?"

At the voice, at the words, Tom spun round and never had he been so
happy to see the face of his best friend. "Harry!" In that same
instant, everything - the stress, the headache, the building sense of
inevitability - vanished.

Grinning, Kim stepped into the room and the door hissed shut behind
him. Approaching his friend, he spoke. "You okay, Tom? You've looked
better."

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Tom turned back towards the console he
had been working on. "Thanks, Harry. I knew I could count on you for
some tender mercies."

Harry's smile grew bigger as he stood next to him. "If you were the
type of person who wanted tender mercies, you never would have had a
relationship with B'Elanna."

Tom found himself grinning, and shrugged. "True enough. What are you
doing here?"

"We're getting some power fluctuation readings on the bridge. Seven's
doing something in the cargo bay, so the Captain asked me to have a
look. "

Well, that seemed to make enough sense.

They worked side-by-side - or, more specifically
side-by-lying-under-console. Whatever positions they happened to be
in, they worked for the most part in a comfortable silence, talking
occasionally.

After about thirty minutes, Harry stuck his head out from under a
console, trying not to get his friends foot right in his face. "Can
you pass me a hyper spanner?"

Finding one, Tom handed it to him. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Harry answered. "I think I'm finally seeing what the problem
is..." He muttered then swore as something fizzled. A few moments
later, he spoke. "So...had a good day?"

Forcing a shrug, Tom spoke deliberately easily. "Been okay. Nothing
special. Work, you know?"

It was obviously a rhetorical question. "Yeah." He hesitated. "I...saw
you in the mess hall this morning."

Tom's back began to stiffen again. "Really? I didn't notice you."

"I'm not surprised..." Harry retorted, grunting as he pulled at
something.

This time Tom halted his work completely, and turned to look at what
he could see of Harry. "What are you implying?"

Hearing the slight objection in his voice, Kim peered out from under
the console. "You wouldn't make a bad couple, you know."

Growling - a habit long ago picked up from B'Elanna - Tom swung away.
"What *is* it with this crew? Why is everyone trying to set someone up
with someone else?!"

Stopping his own work, Harry pulled himself up from the floor. "It's a
long journey home, Tom. I guess people don't want anyone to be alone."

Swinging back around, Tom continued ranting. "But *everyone* does it!
You, Chakotay, me - me! - and I'm sure the Captain and Seven have done
it as well. Why is everyone so selfless?! What is so wrong with going
after something you want?"

A little shocked by Tom's anger, Harry rose his eyebrows. "Human
nature? Guilt?" But he switched topics immediately then, wanting to
pursue his own line of questioning. "And you didn't respond to what I
said; you two wouldn't make a bad couple."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Why is it ridiculous?"

Tom's arms started gesturing wildly. "Number one; a certain close
friend of mine used to have a thing for her-"

"'Used to' being the operative words there. In case you hadn't
noticed, I'm with Sam now."

In case he hadn't noticed. Tom almost laughed. He couldn't help but
notice; every time he saw Harry his friend always made her the topic
of conversation. In fact, he was kind of surprised that he hadn't
mentioned her until now.

Harry continued. "Besides, who's being selfless now?"

"I'm not being selfless," Tom retorted. "Just watching my own hide. I
figured it would just add...complications."

Not fully accepting that as a reason, Harry nodded. "Okay. That's one
excuse. Got any more?"

"Yes," Tom stated firmly. "She's not my type."

A look of utter disbelief passed over Harry's features before he
snorted, loudly. "Yeah, right."

Frowning, Tom studied him. "What?"

Shaking his head, Harry chuckled. "Not your type? Tom! She's blonde.
She has breasts. Can you say 'Constance Goodheart'?"

Harry had a damn good point and Tom knew it. That didn't mean he was
going to acknowledge it. "Now that's just being silly."

"Oh really?" Kim asked sarcastically. "When she participated in the
Captain Proton programme, which character did she play?"

Tom held up a finger. "That doesn't mean a thing. That was just
acting."

Shaking his head, Harry grinned. "I suppose it could have been worse.
You could have had her screaming." He waited for a few seconds for the
implication to set in, and rose his eyebrows meaningfully.

Tom sighed. "Oh for Gods sake..."

---

Seven.

Seven of Nine.

Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero one.

Annika Hansen.

Annika.

Seven.

Harry was a dead man.

That last phrase repeated itself in Tom's mind, almost matching the
frequency that the other phrases insisted on repeating themselves
with. It was - in Tom's opinion - a situation that could almost
exclusively be blamed on young, green, innocent Harry Kim. His best
friend. The man he could trust better than anyone.

The events leading up to this situation had nothing to do with Harry;
that had been combination of Tom's own ability for screwing up a
perfectly wonderful life and certain other people making bad choices.

Nope, for those early instances, Harry was absolutely blameless. He
wasn't even aware of everything that had happened. No doubt at some
point he'd enquire politely - he was almost always polite - and they'd
talk, laugh manfully, and try to boost Tom's testosterone and sense of
self-importance by programming women like Rikki or Sandrine to lavish
all their attention on him.

Naturally, they always ended the evening feeling worse than they
started, but that was the point. There was almost nothing better than
getting utterly depressed with your closest friend.

Right now though, Thomas Eugene Paris wanted to kill Harry Kim.

He had been fine, before. No, that was an outright lie. He'd been less
than fine, but it had been bearable. Tom was somehow managing to deal
with the whole Janeway...and...Chakotay situation. He'd told himself
he was going to stop avoiding Seven, even if it meant coping with a
migraine every time he saw her.

The idea, of course, had already been there. Somewhere, deep deep in
the murkiest recesses of his mind, he knew that he found Seven
attractive. He knew that he enjoyed her company and she his. He knew
that somehow - although how right now was beyond him - they had a lot
in common.

But the idea, if it had even appeared focused in his mind for just an
instant was instantly rejected because of Harry (despite Harry's own
confirmation that he'd be just fine with the idea), and the fact that
Tom was, really, still wondering exactly how he should be moving on
after Kathryn Janeway and if there was any chance in any known
universe that it was possible.

Tom's pillow was the recipient of it's seventh punch of the evening.

Collapsing back onto his noticeably empty bed, he sighed. Of course it
was the seventh punch.

The seed had been there. And though the metaphor was wearing more than
a little thin, Harry had added the water, so to speak. The idea was
growing, spreading it's arms through his mind, suggesting little
things he could say, things he could do.

And then an idea crossed Tom's mind. Not a long particularly long
journey, he knew, but maybe...maybe thinking about Seven was a good
thing. If he could think about another woman he certainly wouldn't be
thinking about Kathryn...the Captain...so much. It was keeping his
mind occupied, and the less he thought about her, the less he figured
it would hurt. Perhaps he should embrace this idea with open arms.
Metaphorically, of course. He wasn't about to embrace Seven with open
arms; he'd lose said arms shortly afterwards, and he'd become very
attached to them over the years.

All in his mind then. He certainly wasn't going to go about actually
starting a relationship with her, but establishing their friendship
further would be good for both of them.

There was one problem to even that, though. One that - unsurprisingly
- he didn't know how to deal with.

Then he did.

Getting out of bed, throwing the covers one way and his pillow the
other, he grabbed his robe, pulled it on, and left his quarters.

---

As expected the Doctor was humming as he
categorised/analysed/somethingised a sample he was studying under what
looked like an electron resonance scanner. Noticing the sound of
someone entering, he lifted his head and it wasn't long at all before
his eyebrows also lifted.

"Mr Paris, is there something I can do for you? Standing in my
sickbay...in your nightwear...and barefoot?"

Blinking, Tom looked down at his feet and saw his own toes wiggling up
at him.

Ah, well.

He quite liked his toes, anyway.

Looking back at Doc he smiled disarmingly, and it was only then that
he came to the worrying realisation that he had no idea what he was
going to say. Something along the lines of "How do you really feel
about Seven?" Or..."Just so you know, I plan to get closer to Seven
but *strictly* as friends so you don't have to worry about possibly
losing out on any opportunities," Or even "Doc! Why haven't you made a
move?! Are you crazy?!"

Tom considered all of these options, and more. He considered how he
would say it, how he would deal with a multitude of possible
responses, how he would try to soothe any hurt feelings...he
considered all of it, then made his decision.

Still smiling he leant forward, said "Never mind", then wiggled his
toes once more for effect before bolting out of the room.

When Doc hailed him several moments later in confusion, Tom babbled
incoherently before closing the com line and deciding that he would
deny all memory of ever being in sickbay on that particular night.
He'd simply put it down to a very bizarre form of sleep walking.

Yeah, yeah. That would work. He was sure of it.

---


"So you've no doubt they're friendly."

"No doubt at all. Chancellor Gorrack seems utterly charming."

"And they have a very nice planet."

"Beautiful, if the sensor scans are anything to go by."

"And they have no objections to any of the crew beaming down to the
planet and spending some time there."

"None at all."

"I see. Can I convince you to take some shore leave this time?"

"No need to convince me Chakotay. Do you see me putting up a struggle
here?"

He blinked. He almost stopped breathing. They were lounging on the
sofa in his quarters, surrounded by disturbing amounts of PADDs, empty
coffee cups, and a rather pleasing amount of clothing. They weren't
entirely naked, but there was still an enjoyable amount of skin
touching skin.

He was so surprised by her question that he nearly - nearly - missed
the fact that she placed a quick kiss on the side of his face.
Nevertheless, he pulled his face a little further away from hers.
"Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. Now, let's look at the proof here.
The..." He did a quick visual calculation "...eight coffee cups that
add such a decorative touch to my quarters, the fact that you'd rather
read through ten PADDs worth of information before doing anything
else, the fascination you have with removing my top...all of these
lead me to conclude that you are, in fact, the same Kathryn Janeway I
have come to know and argue with for the better part of the last
decade."

"However?" Kathryn prompted, grinning like the devil.

"However...the fact that you are offering no resistance at all to the
idea of the dreaded shore leave - something which for you usually
causes as much consternation as the idea of reporting for your yearly
physical - completely messes up with the mental image I have of you.
Therefore, you can't be the Kathryn Janeway I've come to know and
argue with because she would never-"

She silenced him by placing the index finger of her right hand over
his lips. "Chakotay...did it ever occur to you that perhaps - just
perhaps - I want to spend some time with the man I'm about to make
love to?"

Chakotay shrugged, speaking against her finger. "Well, I..." Then he
realised what she had said. "...can't argue with that."

"I didn't think you could," She retorted, removing her finger from his
lips and replacing it with her mouth.

Shifting on the sofa, he frowned when he felt something...hard. "Wait
a minute," He murmured, regretfully pulling away from her and lifting
his hips. Fumbling at the edge of the sofa he eventually produced a
coffee cup that had become wedged somewhere. "How the hell did that
get there?"

Kathryn shrugged innocently. Grabbing the cup from him, she threw it
to in the general direction of the coffee table and ignored the sounds
of the breaking whatever-it-was. "Nine," Was all she said before she
kissed him again.

---

They were still trying to be careful. She wanted to maintain some
degree of secrecy and while he wasn't going to hide it, he wasn't
running about the ship screaming at the top of his lungs.

Although...okay, sometimes he screamed at the top of his lungs, but
that was only when she touched his-

"Hi."

He turned and saw her smiling at him. "Hi," He responded happily.
They'd beamed down separately, of course, not wanting to fuel any
rumours. Besides, he had a feeling that neither of them wanted to be
obvious for Tom and Seven's sakes. Seven...Gods, he still had to talk
with her. But he hadn't felt so ridiculously happy - even giddy - for
a very long time. He would talk with Seven, he would. This moment
however, this afternoon, this day, was for him and Kathryn.

He was pleased when she took his hand and squeezed it; something he'd
been wanting to do since the moment he saw her, but was unsure of just
how far she wanted to push their luck in public. Although, as he
looked about now, he couldn't see any crew members in the immediate
vicinity.

Sliding her hand up his arm, she eventually wrapped hers around his
and - arm-in-arm - they began their sojourn through the deceptively
small looking market place.

The Pretari had developed warp power Centuries ago, but had somehow
maintained many of their old crafts and practices. The market place
they were walking through now was said to have existed for many
thousands of years in many various forms.

The day was warm, both Pretari suns high in the sky, but a cool
breezed kicked playfully through the air. They looked at market stall
after market stall; ate and drank one interesting concoction after
another, considered getting parts of their body pierced for all of one
second, tried on some very *interesting* outfits that neither of them
could afford despite the local currency they'd managed to replicate,
listened to a street performer tell a story that they didn't
understand a word of but found hilarious anyway, watched a woman
literally walk on air (although Kathryn insisted it had to be some
kind of cloaking device), drank even more interesting concoctions, and
by the time they neared the end of the market they were both more than
a little drunk and Kathryn was definitely in the mood to buy
something.

"You bought something already," Chakotay pointed out, his arm having
long ago left hers and now wrapped around her body.

"Yes, but that was all food and drink..." She nearly tripped and leant
on him heavily.

He didn't mind.

"I want something to take with me," She continued. "Something I can
buy that will remind me of this place. Of this afternoon with you."

Stopping mid-step, ignoring the people milling around them, he smiled
at her. "You really are a sentimentalist, aren't you? Can I use that
as blackmail material?"

Kathryn grinned at him sweetly. "Only if I can use your other tattoo
as blackmail material."

"I don't have another tattoo."

This time she grinned evilly. "You will once I get a few more drinks
in you."

Before he could process the threat of what she intended to do, her
attention was immediately drawn elsewhere. Peering over his shoulder,
she gasped. "Oh, look at that!" She headed towards the 'that',
releasing her hold on him so quickly that he remained there for a few
moments, frowning, confused, and *sure* that his arm was supposed to
be around something.

Reminding his feet to move, he eventually caught up with her. She was
at a market stall that was almost the last one, apparently selling
fabrics and clothes. Her eyes had been drawn to a material that seemed
to shimmer at different moments with burgundy, deep purple, violet,
and dark blue. He liked it himself, mainly because it was so different
from the creamy colours she usually chose.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" She asked breathlessly.

Chakotay found himself enthralled with looking at her. Her fingers
were running over the material repeatedly, her head bowed towards it
slightly. The warmth from the sun played across her features,
highlighting the strands of hair that had fallen across her face. But
it was the expression that got to him, the expression of hers that he
adored the most; absolute fascination.

He rarely saw it anymore, but when he did it took his breath away.
Sometimes with a new scientific discovery, sometimes with a new hobby
to hold her interest...whatever the reason, he loved the outcome. Her
face would be filled with childlike wonder, utter expectation, and her
smile was as natural and guileless as he had ever seen it.

He didn't want the moment of perfection to end, but he had to do
something. Extending his arm, he touched the side of her face with his
fingers.

Surprised, her eyes widened and she rose, turning to face him.

His fingers lingered over her face. "Do you have any idea how
unbelievably beautiful you are?"

Kathryn's smile somehow transformed into something of a greater
beauty. "Do you have any idea of the capacity you have for taking my
breath away?"

Perhaps it was the mood, perhaps it was too much sun, perhaps it was
the alcohol, perhaps it was because he just didn't care, but he bent
his head and kissed her.

Perhaps it was the mood, perhaps it was too much sun, perhaps it was
the alcohol, perhaps it was because she just didn't care...but she
kissed him back.

They had kissed before, certainly. Had done so frequently since
becoming involved. But this was the first time they had kissed in
front of anyone, and neither of them noticed the growing crowd of
spectators.

God, she tasted like...Kathryn. Like the fruity alcohol they'd drunk
that tasted nothing like alcohol but must have had the same effect
because his brain felt as if it were melting and she seemed to be more
intoxicating than anything he had ever tried and if his brain really
was melting and he was deteriorating into delirium, he couldn't think
of a better way to go.

Then, of course, he couldn't think, because all he could feel were her
lips under his and the arms that snuck around his neck and the sun on
his skin and the breeze in his hair then the hands in his hair and the
groan that could have come from either or both of them that resonated
through his body and the subtle strength of her back her waist then
her skin as his hands slipped under her top-

Someone was whistling.

They kiss ended in an instant, but they didn't move, perhaps believing
that if they kept absolutely still then when they opened their eyes
they wouldn't see a large section of the crew grinning at them.

They were wrong.

"Shit," Kathryn muttered, gently whacking her forehead against his
shoulder for a moment, before standing tall, disentangling herself
from her First Officer and faking a broad smile for what Chakotay
calculated as being twenty-five or so members of the crew. This was
going to be all over the ship in a matter of minutes. Probably was
already.

Stepping towards them, Kathryn didn't even clear her throat. Still
smiling, she spoke despite the ongoing whistles. "Thank you. Chakotay
and I both hope you enjoyed the show, but fear there will be no
further performances." She nodded enigmatically at the expressions of
disappointment. "However, if you really did enjoy the show you may
express your pleasure by crossing our palms with silver."

It was purely the use of an old expression, because the Pretari
currency was actually purple. But pay up they did. One by one it
seemed they came up to him and Kathryn and handed over some portion of
their money. Sometimes one portion, sometimes five, and every single
one of them leered towards them with a lewd grin. The last person to
hand over some money was Neelix who barely hesitated before hugging
both of them and then handing over all his money before departing,
giggling.

A stunned Chakotay stared at his full hands, then hers. "So what are
we going to do with all this money?"

Kathryn winked - winked! - at him. "It's simple, Chakotay. Now I have
enough money to buy enough of that material to make a dress."
Grinning, she turned back towards the market stall and studied the
owner who didn't seem to know if he should be scowling or laughing at
their behaviour.

"Ah," Chakotay replied, standing next to her. "There is a slight
problem with your plan."

"And what's that?" She asked absently.

"You have all the dressmaking skills of a monkey."

Not in the least bit offended, she chuckled. "Well why do you think I
have sex with you, Chakotay? Just for your good looks?"

"You mean this is all a domestic issue? That's the only reason we're
together?"

"Problem with that?"

He smirked at her. "Nope. It's just good to know where I stand."

"A man of priorities, good. And anyway," She added, studying him
slyly. "We have a pretty good history with monkeys."

---

TBC