The BLTS Archive - To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
by Agincourt (agincourte@geocities.com)

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Star Trek, all characters, ships, stations, planets, general imagery,
and the kitchen sink are the sole property of Paramount/Viacom ( No,
that's not a slash pairing )

There's no sex in this one, it's just a few minutes in time, a look at
Seven's reaction both to her assimilation into the crew of Voyager and
her tryst with Dax as related in " Music From Home", and Torres'
observation of Sevens' behavior. The UST, I guess, is Torres' attraction
to Seven, which she denies because of a) her dislike of the Borglette
and b) her ongoing relationship with Janeway. ( which I like so much in
other people's stories that I've decided to accept it as more or less
canon in this series of stories. The basic setup for the story is
related to my own bouts of insomnia.

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The deep rumble of the engines, reverberating through the deckplates,
assaulted Seven's senses as she lay on the bed. The darkness of the room
filled her eyes, and yet she could not sleep.

The Doctor, adding to her ills, not only insisted she begin consuming
solid foods for sustenance, but further 'suggested' that she attempt to
regenerate in the normal human way, by sleeping in a bed. She had only
used a bed for ... with Dax. That only made it more difficult to sleep
.. After a while, as she had lain there for an hour or more, there had
been a moment when, in the furthest reaches of her subconscious, she had
... remembered sleeping. At least she thought that's what it had been.
In the memory, fleeting and confused, she was in a small ... container.
A crib, the computer had said when she had risen to look up what the
container had been. A woman had been singing to her softly, singing that
had merged into a careless dream she could not remember.

Now, she lay awake in the large bed, the covers arranged carefully over
her motionless and naked body, her eyes squeezed shut, attempting to
will herself into slumber. The Borg way of regenerating was so much more
efficient, as well as being easier to activate. Hard as she tried, she
could not seem to force herself to lose consciousness. Mental pictures
kept interrupting her, of the woman standing over the crib, undoubtedly
her mother, of Dax's soft caresses in the moments they had laid
together, still, after sex. The woman's smell, her touch, her reassuring
voice, her guiding hands, all presented themselves in Sevens'
consciousness as if they were now present. The feel of the cool air and
the satiny sheet against her body only intensified the memory.

She shook her head against the pillow, as if to dispell the images from
her mind. Other memories, frightening memories, were all that replaced
the more pleasant ones of Dax and her mother. Now it was the Borg taking
her parents off ... The putrid leathery white skin on the had that
reached into her hiding place under the console. Then it was the
sensation of being a small girl in the vast dark Borg ship, her
struggling against the bonds which held her naked body, the piercing of
the skin of her neck by the Borg's nanoprobe injectors, the sound of her
screams reverberating amongst the endless machinery ... replaced then by
the multitude, the voices of the collective, speaking as one, dispelling
her fears even while her body was violated by surgical lasers and the
implants that followed. Sevens' eyelids burst apart, and the images
disappeared, fading like the echo of a scream. She turned her head to
the viewports of her cabin, the stars rushing past as Voyager traveled
at warpspeed.

She rose shakily, her legs unsure, from the bed, and walked to the ...
window, they called it. She stared through the super-strong transparent
material, and saw the fatigue and frustration there, in the reflection
of her face. She swung her tightly closed fist against the window, which
shook not at all, and then slumped against the pane. The only voice in
her mind now was her own, and it had nothing reassuring to say, no clear
logic, no ruthless objectivism, nothing. She was in turmoil, body and
mind, and the soft mattress on which she had touched and been touched
held no comfort for her. There was only the Borg regeneration unit ...
she would go there, regardless of what the hologram said ... the
sedative he had given her had only clouded her mind, made her wobbly on
her feet, and yet, in her mind, she was wide awake.

Seven reached for her jumpsuit, steadying herself on a nearby chair,
where she had practiced ... sitting. It was all so ridiculous, she
thought, as she pulled the tight fabric over her legs, and up, reaching
around to fasten the back together after the collar reached her neck.
She pulled at the suit, smoothing it so it was nowhere bunched together
as the fabric formed itself to her body.

Seven walked into the hall, still unsteady. She walked, having to
consciously move her feet up, forward, and down, one after the other, to
retain her balance. She could hear some movement ahead of her, but there
were no voices ... quiet still disturbed her. She had never known quiet,
at least not since ...

The feeling of her limbs giving out was unfamiliar as well. Borg do not
... trip and fall. She crashed onto the deck, her knees jelly, her wrist
twisted under her, and the stillness and quiet of the ship replaced by a
dull thud.

As she lay in the hall, the pain from her wrist and the numbness of her
legs focused her mind. She should call for the doctor, but ... the
communicator pin was not on her uniform. She had, in her present
unfocused state, left it on the table by the ... her bed. In any event,
her injury was slight, and all that was required was to get to the
regenerator. But still, she had no strength to push herself off the
floor, and little will. Yet again the memory of the collective asserted
itself. The afterimage of a chorus of voices ... that was now
conspicuous in it's absence. She felt moisture on her face, and thought
perhaps she had injured herself more seriously than she had imagined,
but as it trickled down her face to her quivering lips, she tasted the
salty wetness, and knew that it was not blood.

"Seven? " A shuffling in the hall behind her broke into reality, and
there was someone standing over her ... it was Torres. B'Elanna ... She
felt the engineers' hands pulling at her, turning her to face up at the
row of dimmed lights above the corridor. B'Elanna saw the tears
trickling down the Borgs' twisted face. " Torres to Sickbay ... "

" No! " Seven said. " I ... am fine. I need to regenerate. " She leaned
against the bulkhead. " Can you assist me? "

B'Elanna considered whether or not she should call for the doctor anyway
... something was most definitely wrong with Seven, but, perhaps ...
perhaps it wasn't medical. The woman was obviously exhausted.

" ... Alright, here. " Torres pulled the girl to her feet, placing
Sevens' arm around her neck, and felt her weight on her. She started
down the corridor with Seven, allowing the Borg to rely on her
steadiness.

As they made their way down the corridor and into the turbolift, Seven's
head came to rest wearily on B'Elanna's the engineer could smell the
woman's scent. It was a soft, sweet fragrance, bringing to B'Elannas'
mind the colorful flowering vines that had framed the window of her
StarFleet dormitory room. She didn't understand what was happening to
the Borg, and part of her said that she didn't care. But she couldn't
help herself ... this intractable, irritating woman was also very alone,
and vulnerable on what must seem to her to be an alien ship. B'Elanna
wondered what she would do in that situation.

"I am ... " Seven began, as the turbolift descended towards their
destination, " grateful for your help. The doctor seems to be intent on
making my transition to ... human life more difficult. " She moved away
from the engineer and leaned against the side of the lift.

"I'm sure that's not what he's trying to do. " B'Elanna said evenly. "
He's just trying to get you to stop relying on Borg technology. "

"Borg technology is more efficient. " Seven answered wearily, as if
she was as tired of saying that as she was physically exhausted. " And I
have failed to reproduce the human action of sleep. "

" Well, that's just it ... " B'Elanna interjected, as she draped the
Borg's arm around her again, and the turbolift doors opened. " Sleep
isn't an action. You don't really DO it, it just happens. You can't MAKE
yourself sleep, your body just sleeps when you give it the chance. It'll
just happen. " Again the woman's' scent filled her nostrils, and her warm
slender body pressed against her side. She wanted to move the hand now
around seven's waist, to slide it further down to feel the soft curves
of her bottom. Instead, she concentrated on the task at hand.

" As you have experience in this and I do not, at least " Seven thought
of the youth she lost when the Borg came " not that I can remember, I
will have to assume that it is as you say. However, it is difficult for
me to simply .. do NOTHING until my body ceases to be conscious. I find
myself experiencing ... disturbing images."

" Like what? " B'Elanna asked, as they proceeded slowly down the
corridor.  " What do you see? "

" Images of the Borg. When they took my parents. And," B'Elanna could
feel the girl shaking against her " when they took me. There are also
more ... personal images. Those are the most distracting. "

B'Elanna wondered what on earth that could mean... " Personal? "

Seven was too tired to feel discomfort at admitting the truth of what
she experienced, and somehow, for some reason, B'Elanna was concerned
for her. It was logical, Seven thought, after all, for an officer to be
concerned for the condition of a shipmate. Was that all it was? " They
are ... sexual images. "

B'Elanna almost stopped in the door leading to the Borg regenerator. Her
heart jumped, but she kept her face impassive " Images that you received
from races you assimilated. "

"No. Images from my own admittedly spare experience. " Seven said, as
the door slid closed behind her.

B'Elanna watched the Borg separate from her, and stumble into the recess
of the regenerator. Who could it have been? Harry, probably. But if that
had happened, Katherine would have found out about it, and would have
shared it .. or would she? What if Harry had sworn his Captain to
secrecy? I have to remember to torture it out of her when I get back to
our quarters ... but what if it was someone else. Tom? I doubt that.
Chakotay? That was almost worth a laugh. What if it had been a woman ...
that thought was somehow encouraging. She wanted to imagine the body
under that tight jumpsuit under the ministrations of a pair of soft
hands, and allowed her mind to wonder. What if it had been the Trill
from the Alpha quadrant?

" But ... "

"Lieutenant Torres ... I must now regenerate. " Seven had settled into
the cradle of the regenerator, and had her eyes closed, as it activated.
She said nothing else.

B'Elanna watched her there for a few moments, feeling strangely
unfulfilled. She wanted to know if what she pictured in her mind was
part of what Seven pictured in her own. She left the room, and headed
for her own quarters, the quarters she shared with her Captain. If Kathy
doesn't know who it was ... then Seven and I will have to continue this
conversation later, B'Elanna thought. She was aroused, although she
wouldn't have admitted why. At least not to herself.

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The End