summary:

TITLE: Why Go There? SUBTITLE: Match-making in a turbo-lift (and other places)
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13 CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
DESCRIPTION: Turbolift fluff. I wrote this some years ago but it's a nice fun little thing.

disclaimer:

TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.

warnings:

Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.

text:

Monday Morning - 07:55
-- --------------------

On deck four, just five minutes before her shift was due to start, B'Elanna was waiting impatiently for the turbolift. She was later than she liked and when the turbolift finally arrived she was not in the best of moods. The lift was very busy in the pre-shift rush but the half-Klingon pushed inside, muttering darkly about all the late comers. An ensign stupidly made a defensive remark about the Chief Engineer being a fine one to talk of lateness. An instant later he found himself unceremoniously ejected from the lift.

"The lift is exceeding its safety loading specifications Ensign" said B'Elanna with an evil glint in her eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the next one." The lift doors closed against the unfortunate crewman before he could argue that the lift would not have stopped if it was full.

The lift moved rapidly to the next stop on deck 8 where Seven of Nine was waiting. The ex-drone did not seem concerned by the crush of people. She squeezed in and the doors closed and B'Elanna found herself face to face with Seven of Nine. Well not strictly face to face.

"Lieutenant"

"Seven" mumbled B'Elanna as she was pushed roughly against the Borg's chest by an anxious ensign trying to escape from the lift at the next stop on deck 9.

"Your daughter is functioning adequately?" asked Seven politely.

After extracting herself from Seven's more obvious features, the red-faced engineer answered with as much decorum as she could manage.

"Er yeah she's fine. The Doc's looking after her today."

"And why is she not with you?" Seven queried, apparently more concerned with the absent baby than the location of the Lieutenant's face but she was distracted from further questions about the smaller Torres by the crimson features of the elder who had just managed to extricate herself.

"Are you well Lieutenant Torres? You appear flushed."

B'Elanna stifled the urge to yell. 'Of course I'm flushed you idiot. I've just had my face between the most beautiful breasts in the Delta Quadrant and I'm still standing closer than flesh and blood can bear.' Taking a deep breath B'Elanna successfully subdued her rage and her hormones and said, with what she thought was admirable calm.

"I'm perfectly fine Seven. It's a bit crowded in here, you know, it's too hot."

"It is exactly 23.8 degrees celsius, the normal operational temperature. Perhaps you require the Doctor Lieutenant?"

One of the engineering officers remaining in the lift snorted loudly but he hastily converted his grin into a frown and an urgent interest in his shoes after B'Elanna glared at him so fiercely that he thought the duranium walls would buckle.

"Where are you going Seven?" asked B'Elanna trying to divert Seven from the subject of heat.

"Lower engineering. I wish to complete the enhancement of the secondary power relays before I resume my duties in Astrometrics next week."

B'Elanna felt a shock of disappointment.

"Right, you are not working in Engineering after Friday. Back to Astrometrics. Of course. I forgot. So I won't see you after then. Well not so much anyway." B'Elanna knew she was babbling but Seven did not appear to notice the chief engineer's unusual behaviour.

The ensign from engineering sniggered again and was rewarded with another baleful glare from his chief. Nervously he returned to the now essential task of contemplating his boots. The lift stopped at deck 12 by main engineering. Still looking over-heated B'Elanna glanced at Seven uncertainly. Seven raised her eyebrow in question. Not sure why she was hesitating or what she wanted to say, B'Elanna stammered.

"Well, bye then. See you later." The Chief Engineer then tried to exit the lift wth a smart military turn and instead tripped over her own feet and ungraciously fell out of the lift. She sat on the deck, internally cursing the fates and her own clumsiness and wished for a spatial occlusion to swallow her. She wondered why it was her fate to always be humiliated in front of the Borg princess.

The lift doors closed on the three remaining occupants. Ensign Maurice Dupre - the owner of the apparently fascinating boots, a cheerful personality and a strong French accent - breathed a sigh of relief and glanced sideways at Seven of Nine who was staring with an odd expression on her perfect face at the spot where the Lieutenant would have still been sitting if the doors hadn't closed and the lift wasn't on its way to lower engineering.

An equally odd idea formed in his Parisian mind and being a good engineer he decided to test his theory.

"Lieutenant Torres, she eez very beautiful no?"

"The Lieutenant is physically well formed, her features are very satisfactory especially when she is angry. Her eyes become very dark and yet seem to almost emit bolts of fire. It is very..." Seven's voice trailed off as she noticed the mouths popping open around her like tunics in a Riesian farce. She realised that perhaps one didn't make those kind of comments to junior ensigns.

Dupre was quick to recover.

"Seven of Nine you find the Lieutenant attractive and it is clear she feels the same for you. Do you and she .." He did not manage to complete the question because the air was driven from his lungs by an elbow landing firmly in his ribs.

"P..p..p..please ignore him Seven of Nine. M..M..Maurice has unimaginably little sense and impeccably b..bad m..manners." stuttered his oldest and best friend, one Ensign Edmund Cholmondley-Brown looking a bit stout and homely beside the taller and more handsome Dupre.

Seven was not listening. She was still processing the French ensign's assertion of his chief's feelings for her.

"You are mistaken Ensign Dupre. Lieutenant Torres regards me as Borg and little better than a machine."

"You must be crazy Seven of Nine," exclaimed Maurice fervently "believe me I am an expert on such matters. You and she are very passionate together are you not?"

Seven looked mystified.

"He means you f..f...fight a lot, always a sure sign of p..p..passion according to Maurice," explained his friend drily. "The simpler explanation, that you do not get on with the Chief, offends his gallic logic."

"English barbarian," muttered Dupre but any attempts to give Seven of Nine further romantic counselling were stymied when the lift doors opened on deck 13 and the ex-drone strode from the lift without another word. The foolishness of these humans did not merit any further expenditure of energy in futile discussion.

Maurice Dupre watched her leave with a feeling of dissatisfaction. It was not right that two people should deny themselves love because of their own misapprehensions about each other.

"Computer. Inform me whenever Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine occupy the same turbolift."

"Oh no M..Maurice not again, look what happened when you infected the Captain and the Commander with that virus." Edmund was looking slightly panicky. It had taken all of his considerable ingenuity to dig his friend out of that hole without alerting the command crew. He still had the mental scars, a missing finger and a Vidiian penpal.

Maurice drew himself up to his full height and looked down scornfully at his chubby friend.

"It is not my fault that the great baboon could not seduce a beautiful woman after three months as the sole occupants of an entire planet. Such incompetence would only be expected in an Englishman and Chakotay does not have that excuse. Do not fear Edmund, far less drastic measures are required this time and we have a week before the beautiful Seven returns to Astrometrics."

Tuesday Morning - 07:30
-----------------------

The door to the turbolift on deck 9 shuddered open uncertainly and B'Elanna regarded it with disfavour. She shook her head; while she had been on maternity leave it was apparent that her beloved ship had been left to go to rack and ruin.

"You see Annabel," she crooned to the baby hung in a sling on her stomach, "Mamma can't stay home any more, because the useless specimens laughingly called an engineering crew need their chiefyweefy to kick their little bee-hinds. That's why Mamma and little Bel have to go to work today." She blew a kiss at the little face and stepped into the lift.

"Lieutenant." said a cool voice and B'Elanna cringed. Trust bloody Seven of Nine to be hiding in the corner of the lift.

"Seven" she returned, businesslike, hoping the ex-drone hadn't overheard her.

"You are going Engineering with your baby."

So much for hope. Damned Borg hearing.

"Yes." She paused for a long moment, "And you?"

"I do not have a baby."

"I meant are you going to engineering?"

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence as the two women pretended to ignore each other until they reached deck 12. The door of the lift ground open a few inches and then squealed stuck and B'Elanna suppressed a curse. Seven gripped the edge of the door and pulled with her considerable strength but the door didn't shift a millimetre. The ex-drone let go after straining for a few more seconds.

"I do not understand why humans continue to travel in these inefficient and statistically unreliable conveyances. Borg do not spend their days trapped in turbolifts." she grumbled.

Privately B'Elanna agreed with the ex-drone but keeping a straight face she explained carefully.

"You have to understand Seven that doing away with them would cut out a whole branch of romantic possibilities. Virtually every holonovel contains at least one turbolift encounter."

Seven looked suspiciously at her. "So you are saying we are condemned to use this erratic and danger prone transport to provide entertainment for limited and trivial minds. I am not sure I believe you Lieutenant."

B'Elanna did not reply. She was considering the width of the small gap. She could probably squeeze through. Without further hesitation she made to hand Little Bel to Seven.

"Here, hold her while I get out and get a lever."

Seven grasped the tiny child by reflex, holding her at arms length. Wide blue eyes widened further as she stared at the small human wriggling in her hands. Annabel stared back with her equally wide blue eyes and gurgled noisily. Then her face wrinkled up and she began to whimper loudly.

"It is making strange noises" panicked Seven. "You must take it back."

B'Elanna was having her own problems getting through the door. Turning her head with difficulty, she took one irritated look at the Borg who was still holding her daughter as far away as she could manage.

"Stop making a fuss Seven. How would you like it if some strange giant dangled you in space; just put her on your shoulder and rub her gently on the back."

Anxiously Seven followed the instructions. She was gratefully rewarded by silence and then a strange gulping noise and a damp sensation on her left shoulder.

"Lieutenant, I believe your daughter has vomited on my shoulder."

"Well put her on the other shoulder then." snapped B'Elanna. She then uttered a cry of triumph as she painfully wiggled through the narrow gap. "I'll have you out of there in a moment."

"Why can we not just ask for transport?" asked Seven plaintively.

"I'm not trusting my daughter unnecessarily to those molecule scatterers. You'll be out soon enough."

Five minutes later B'Elanna Torres made good on her promise and levered the door open with an engineering jack. Seven stepped out holding the baby in her arms.

"Well look at that," said B'Elanna quietly, "she's asleep." She thought for a moment and then said decisively, "It'll be better not to disturb her and you clearly have the knack Seven. Come on or I'll be late for my meeting with the Captain."

She turned and left the ex-drone standing by the lift, holding the baby. Annabel snuggled a little in the Borg's strong arms to make herself comfortable. Utterly bemused, Seven looked down at her and, not knowing what else she could do, she followed in the steps of the energetic little Klingon.

**************

Monitoring the whole episode from deflector control, Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Good start to your campaign Maurice. The lift door didn't jam properly and now the B..b..borg is walking about with a baby that is freely decorating her b..body suit with vomit. Very romantic."

"It is true I did not anticipate the baby being present," said Maurice defensively. "But I am not downcast by your English pessimism. Seven of Nine and the Chief are now in a more intimate relationship.

"Yes, the chief's found herself a b..baby m..minder," scoffed Edmund as he carefully eliminated all evidence of tampering with the lift door controls.

Wednesday Afternoon - 14:45
---------------------------

B'Elanna and Seven of Nine were waiting for the turbolift to take them to a meeting with Chakotay.

B'Elanna was tired. Annabel had been fractious all night and had strongly objected to staying with her father this morning. Tom had also annoyed her by turning up late after a hard night in Sandrines. 'Perhaps I should employ Seven as a babysitter,' she mused. 'Little Bel loved her and she'd be a damn sight more reliable than Tom.' B'Elanna smiled slightly at the recollection. Seven had patiently carried the baby around yesterday for a couple of hours allowing B'Elanna to get on with catching up on all she had been missing in Engineering. When the Chief Engineer had finally retrieved her daughter it had been hard to know who was most upset. Annabel had certainly made the most noise but Seven had been emphatic that no one else, apart from B'Elanna, could be trusted to hold little Bel because they did not possess the Borg parenting skills which the ex-drone deemed necessary for the proper care of Annabel.

Comtemplating the tall ex-drone B'Elanna wanted to thank her. Expressions of gratitude did not come easily to the half-Klingon; it was much easier to fight with Seven than be nice to her. But she decided to make the effort.

"Seven..."

Before she could complete the sentence Seven interrupted.

"You have left Annabel with Lieutenant Paris." A flat restatement of B'Elanna earlier answer to the Borg's earnest enquiry about Annabel's welfare.

"Yes. What of it?" answered B'Elanna not quite liking the Borg's tone.

"Why do you trust him with Annabel when you no longer trust him to be your husband?"

Three years ago B'Elanna would have torn the Borg's head off for asking personal questions such as that but, like the rest of Voyager's crew, she had become accustomed to Seven's abrupt interrogations and recognised that often Seven did not understand the proper etiquette and that a sensitive and honest response was usually the best way to answer the curious Borg.

"Mind your own damned business!" she thundered.

Well B'Elanna had never been any good at this sensitive stuff. Hell she was half-Klingon!

Before a stony-faced Seven of Nine could formulate a reply, the lift arrived and the doors hissed open revealing the Captain leaning casually against the wall of the lift. The two silent, glowering women joined her. Janeway looked cautiously from one to the other.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, more out of duty than any real desire to know why her Chief Engineer and her Astrometrics officer were poisoning the atmosphere inside the tiny lift.

"None that I know of Captain." said B'Elanna through gritted teeth.

"We are functioning normally thank you Captain." Seven agreed glacially.

"So I see" said their captain trying to suppress amusement and irritation simultaneously. "Anyway," she said with relief, "I think this is my stop. Good day."

Janeway shivered involuntarily as she departed but at least the two of them no longer ran to her every time they had a difference of opinion. It was progress.

"Deck 2" snapped B'Elanna. The doors closed and an alarm went off immediately. The lift ground to a halt and the yellow alert light started to blink on the wall.

"What the hell? Torres to engineering what's going on?"

"Don't know sir," bleated a confused engineer. "The yellow alert came on and a medical emergency is being signalled. We're trying to isolate it now."

A few seconds passed and the engineer came back on the comm. "Umm, Chief. The EMH would like to speak to you."

"EMH to Torres. I understand you are in the turbolift between decks three and two Lieutenant. Is anyone else there with you?"

"Only Seven of Nine. What's going on Doc?"

"The medical emergency system has generated a report that you are carrying a serious viral infection."

"Why in Kahless' name would it do that? I don't feel ill and I haven't been for a checkup."

"You walked through one of my new medical monitors Lieutenant. Designed, by myself, to give early warning of infections and thus limit the spread amongst the crew." He sounded delighted and B'Elanna could imagine him preening; an image which did not amuse her. "So far we have found two cases of Bolian green 'flu and eight cases of a mild STD."

"What has this got to do with me Doc. Are you saying I have an STD 'cos I sure as hell don't have green flu?"

"No you are much more exciting Lieutenant Torres. The infection would appear to be of unknown origin and probably highly infectious. Who else have you been in contact with since 12pm today?"

"Just Carey, Seven of Nine and Captain Janeway. Why 12pm?"

The Doc ignored her question as he thought out loud.

"Hmm that's odd. Carey has been through three monitors since 12 and nothing shows up. However he'll have to be quarantined just to be on the safe side. And Captain Janeway too. Just stay where you are Lieutenant and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. EMH out." The communicator clicked off.

"It must be wrong, Doc... come back. Dammit." She got no reply. She glared at Seven. "Well I have no intention of sitting about here waiting. Seven give me a hand and I'll get up through the ceiling hatch. I want to check these damned systems myself."

"I do not believe the Doctor would agree to your leaving the lift. This is a medical quarantine is it not?"

B'Elanna paused. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, "although I don't believe there's a real problem."

"Agreed," said Seven. "It is highly improbable that an alien infection is aboard. We have encountered no other species for more than three weeks. But in any case attempting to leave will be futile. Standard protocol would be to seal the lift with level ten forcefields thus preventing the escape of any virus or bacteria. I have no doubt the doctor will have implemented that safeguard."

"I suppose I might as make myself comfortable as long we are stuck in this stupid box." B'Elanna sat down on the floor of the lift feeling an uncomfortable need to slaughter something.

Seven remained standing.

"There was no need to shout" she said.

"What? Shout about what?" B'Elanna asked irritably.

"You became irrationally angry when I queried your judgement about Mr Paris and Annabel."

"Irrationally angry?" repeated B'Elanna slowly. "You query my judgement about my daughter and you think my anger is irrational?"

"Yes." Seven said, her voice rising. "Is your thinking about your daughter less fallible than any of your other thought processes?"

In a brief moment of detachment before the storm, B'Elanna realised Seven was inexplicably furious. B'Elanna was taken aback by this but her own temper was gathering impulse speed.

"What?" She almost whispered.

"I do not comprehend how any being with your intelligence can make such elementary errors."

B'Elanna stood up and stared at Seven, her head nodding gently as though agreeing to something. She enunciated very clearly and slowly.

"Would you care to say what 'errors' you think I am guilty of?"

Anyone else on Voyager would have heard the bloody menace in the Chief Engineer's voice and be running for cover, actual or metaphorical. Seven, standing on the opposite side of the lift, stood her ground and with fists clenched stared right back.

"As you wish Lieutenant. Your marriage and your divorce: both serious errors in judgement."

This wasn't fair. She had been expecting some sniping from Seven about the recent engineering tests over which they had already fought very publicly. B'Elanna's carefully stoked self-righteousness died. Her marriage had been a mistake. There was no denying it. The divorce proved it. But she wasn't going to let this damnably rude woman get away with intrusive point scoring.

"I'm not going to discuss my marriage with you. Keep your grubby Borg paws off my life. And even if I did make a mistake with the marriage what's wrong with the divorce? Do you have some sort of Borg fidelity hangup?" she sneered.

Seven was remorseless. "You left it too late. Your unhappiness was apparent within a week of the wedding. But you did not accept the inevitable instead you waited until you were pregnant."

"Because that's what I wanted all along" B'Elanna yelled. "Did you ever consider that?"

Seven was silent for a moment before spotting the flaw in the argument.

"In that case the marriage was an unnecessary complication and unfair to Mr Paris. I do not believe you capable of such dishonourable behaviour."

"Because I'm part Klingon? Well I'm not Klingon by choice Seven. I'm human and we lie all the time. Get used to it." Seven looked hurt. B'Elanna felt a stab of guilt and an urge to apologise which she stamped out ruthlessly saying instead.

"Oh I'm sorry. Did that puncture some little perfectionist fantasy? Well that's a shame. Now just shut up and leave me alone."

Seven did not reply. She turned her back on the seething half-Klingon and fixed her gaze on the wall.

B'Elanna took out her fury on her comm badge which she slapped painfully hard.

"Torres to EMH. When the hell are we getting out of here Doc?"

"Very soon Lieutenant." The EMH sounded almost embarrassed. "It appears the system malfunctioned somewhat. Ensigns Brown and Dupre are resetting it now. Sorry for the inconvenience..." His remaining words were lost when B'Elanna abruptly broke off communications.

***********

Maurice switched off the turbolift video feed. It was too depressing after all his hard work.

"Oh" he said. "I see they have some unresolved issues."

"Well put Maurice. What a glorious talent for understatement. But never fear. I think you are helping them to air those issues." Edmund started laughing.

Maurice looked a little sad.

"It was all going so well." He brightened. "But as you say now they have their differences out in the air they can go on to the romance."

His friend hugged him in exasperation.

"You are a silly french fool..." Edmund stopped as he noticed what was happening on the sick bay monitor. Captain Janeway was speaking to the Doc who was backing away nervously. Edmund turned up the volume.

"... when I find out who did this Doctor there will be fewer but more reliable crewmen on Voyager."

"Oh my god," whispered Edmund. "The Captain knows. Maurice we have to stop this. I have covered our tracks but if the Captain orders Commander...", Edmund tried to swallow his nervously bobbing adam's apple, "... Tuvok to investigate... I don't know if it will be enough."

Dupre grinned evilly. This was more like it. Some excitement and danger. Feeling more cheerful he crowed. "You English are all cowards but do not worry, we will succeed. I have had another idea."

Edmund went white. He wasn't sure he could survive any more of Maurice's ideas

***************

Back in the turbolift B'Elanna looked at the rigid figure uncertainly. She was still angry but knew she had gone too far. She started to try and say something but was interrupted by the jerk of the lift coming back to life and she stopped knowing that there wasn't enough time. After just a few seconds the turbolift arrived at the bridge and they were greeted by a smiling Chakotay. A strained meeting ensued. The normally relaxed Commander was grateful when it ended; his patience worn down by the glacial stubborness of Seven of Nine and B'Elanna's terse ill-temper.

Thursday 19:30
--------------

Seven waited as the doors of the turbolift opened on the loneliest deck of the ship. The message had read 'Dear Seven of Nine, meet me in the Captain's Yacht, deck 9, tonight at 19:30. Yours, B'Elanna Torres'. The friendly tone of the note left Seven somewhat surprised. Her eidetic memory assured her that the last words she had exchanged with the fiery little engineer had not been pleasant and long experience had taught her that Lieutenant Torres did not forget quickly. In fact Seven would often have sworn that the Klingon must also have an eidetic memory; her recollection of arguments or insults was so exact and long-lived.

No-one was there. Not too difficult to ascertain even in the dim light as the Captain's Yacht was not a yacht at all but a smaller version of the bridge except without any of the comfort or convenience. Just a small half circle of command and control consoles and a navigation panel. The only major feature was the array of transparent panels arranged around the floor of the circular room that gave 360 degree vision of the underside of Voyager's dish. The 'lower docking and emergency control centre', or LowDECC as it was officially known to Starfleet, was only used for certain unusual docking procedures that were seldom required even in the Alpha quadrant and never in the Delta quadrant. It's other purported use as an emergency alternative to the bridge had never been tested.

Seven had once demanded to know why everyone aboard called it the Captain's Yacht and received the unsatisfactory explanation that it was a Starfleet tradition. Only a very few vessels with diplomatic duties actually had a yacht built into the hull but despite that the name had stuck as the name of the lowest point on a Starship main dish.

The turbolift swished shut and presumably departed for another destination.

Seven decided to investigate the room further. She had no idea why B'Elanna wanted to meet her here. She assumed there must be some technical matter which the Chief engineer wanted to discuss. Briefly it crossed the ex-drone's mind that perhaps Lieutenant Torres wanted to be alone with her. For a few moments hope warred with fear until she smiled wrily at her own foolishness; if B'Elanna Torres wanted to be alone with her it was most likely that she wanted a place where they could fight undisturbed. In quiet moments the ex-drone may have watched the slight but athletic Chief of Engineering and fantasised about kind looks and even affection but she was all too aware that in reality the only time Lieutenant Torres paid her any attention was when they disagreed. Apart from that one occasion when she had been ill and B'Elanna had been kind to her.

Her certainty about B'Elanna's intentions took a little dent when she observed that part of the floorspace had been covered with a patterned rug and quantities of food and drink were set out on it. The area was lit by four naked flames burning atop some white material formed into cylinders. The white material was clearly part of the combustion process. She was unsure why the Lieutenant should choose such a primitive and potentially dangerous form of lighting but could see that it did create a strange and rather pleasant atmosphere in contrast to the spartan surroundings. Seven became aware that her pulse was racing. Unbelievable as it might be, the evidence before her eyes suggested romantic intention. She dismissed the notion as too far-fetched and mere wish-fulfillment.

Her reverie was interrupted by the turbolift doors opening. B'Elanna Torres appeared looking a little irritable.

"Seven this had better be... " Her eyes adjusted to the light and she stopped short and gaped at the scene before her. "I was going..." Again words seemed to fail her and Seven could see the unshakeable half-Klingon was embarrassed or even nervous.

"Would you like something to eat?" Seven asked politely trying to put her host at ease. She did not understand the motivation fully but supposed B'Elanna Torres was trying to extend the olive branch and it was only fair to meet her halfway.

B'Elanna shut her mouth and then opened it to speak again but shut it without saying anything. After a few moments of apparent indecision she just nodded and moved closer. Realising that standing might not be appropriate Seven sank awkwardly to her knees on the rug. B'Elanna sat down near to her with more practised grace but still did not speak. She accepted the small plate being proffered and did not object when Seven handed her a glass of what appeared to be red wine.

Seven picked up a plate and looked inquiringly at the Chief of Engineering.

"May I?" asked Seven still trying to put the EMH's ettiquette training into practise. The last thing she felt was hungry but if B'Elanna had gone to all this trouble then she was not going to cause offence. B'Elanna nodded and smiled slightly.

Seven added a few items of food to her plate and relaxed one millimetre when she saw B'Elanna do the same. B'Elanna took a fairly deep drink from her glass and then quickly drained it. Seven offered a refill and was surprised to notice that the Lieutenant's hand was shaking as she held out her glass.

"This is very pleasant," said Seven still in hyper-polite mode, "what would you like to discuss?"

Her glass filled and beginning to feel the warming effects of its predecessor B'Elanna at last succeeded in stringing a few words together.

"I want to... apologise" she said. "For my behaviour yesterday." Seven was astonished and it must have been very obvious because she saw B'Elanna's eyes narrow and a frown replace the uncertain even shy expression.

"What? Is that so unlikely?"

"Statistically speaking? Yes it is." replied Seven honestly.

"Oh well I am sorry to spoil my record." said B'Elanna with an edge in her voice.

Seven did not want a repeat of yesterday so she hastened to add.

"I am not sorry. What I mean is that I too should apologise. I stuck my great big nose in where it did not belong."

B'Elanna's frown twisted to a small grin.

"Your great big nose?"

"Naomi Wildman assures me that is the correct phrasing." said Seven and her eyes crinkled in a light smile which verged on the mischievous. B'Elanna's small grin became a big grin.

"I don't really blame you for being curious Seven. I don't understand my own behaviour half the time."

Heartened by the half-Klingon's mildness and unable to resist Seven asked "Why did you stay with Lieutenant Paris?"

B'Elanna sighed and wrinkled her nose.

"You don't give up do you?"

Seven said nothing in reply but raised her eyebrow. B'Elanna looked undecided. She had never really talked about her relationship with Tom. Hadn't really wanted to. But she had all the answers: long hours of agonised soliliquies before deciding to divorce him. Now she wanted to explain to Seven. She wasn't sure why.

"Okay, here's how it goes. Marrying him was a bad mistake as you pointed out so forcefully. I think if we hadn't been stuck on this bucket of bolts it would never have happened. We both needed to make something of ourselves on Voyager both professionally and personally. It was our second chance at life. In the alpha quadrant Tom and I had several things in common: neither of us had any real family, we had pissed off or alienated our friends; we had screwed up our Starfleet careers and both ended up on the wrong side of the law. We were both so alone it made no difference which quadrant we were in."

Worried that she sounded too pathetic she glanced at Seven's face and tried to gauge what she was thinking. Seven was unreadable but at least she wasn't laughing or looking superior.

"Anyway Tom flourished on Voyager. I did too. Voyager and Janeway changed us both. I can't explain what it felt like to be so completely trusted by so many people. To no longer be the half-Klingon fuck-up." Again a quick look at the impassive face of her companion. She rushed the last part of the story, speaking too quickly, nervous that Seven might interrupt and question her rationalisations.

"But ... I never really believed my luck would last. I think Tom felt that too and we started to spend time together, to give each other some family, some insurance against the future. We fell in love. He tried so hard to be different for me and I did love him. Funnily I mostly loved the things he was trying so hard to suppress: the boyish bravado and all that embittered loner romanticism. He reminded me of me I suppose." She smiled cynically. "Of course I couldn't live with him anymore than I could live with myself and eventually I realised that staying with him would only destroy us both; possibly literally."

"And Annabel?"

B'Elanna looked sad. "Oh the usual story. A last gasp try to save our dying marriage. Pathetic and selfish I know."

"But you did want her?"

"Yeah, in the end I wanted her desperately. Although I can tell you pregnancy is a pig," B'Elanna joked and then to her own surprise, she burst into tears. Humiliated but unable to stop crying she curled up on the rug sobbing. Seven felt pain curl around her heart and she cursed her own Borg insensitivity. She couldn't bear to see B'Elanna in such agony; she felt responsible for making her talk about this. Slowly she bent over the distraught woman and stroked her head and then using every ounce of strength she possessed, gently lifted B'Elanna and cradled her against her chest.

B'Elanna turned her face to hide it against Seven's breasts. Her hands clutched the ex-drone's shoulders painfully hard and she continued to sob. Seven hugged her and tried and failed to think of something to say that wasn't too Borg. In the end B'Elanna saved her the trouble, mumbling so indistinctly that she would have missed it but for her enhanced hearing.

"For the record, Seven of Nine, you have rather a nice nose."

"Thank you" Seven replied seriously.

B'Elanna lifted her tear stained face. The crying had stopped. She made an expression that Seven guessed was meant to be a smile and wriggled a little. Seven set her back down on the rug, offered her hand and they heaved each other back on their feet. For a long moment each stared at the other both aware that their relationship had changed in some fundamental way.

"I need to get back for Annabel," B'Elanna said, her voice sounding husky. "But thanks Seven for all this..." B'Elanna gestured at the meal. "And thanks for listening."

Seven was unsure why she was being thanked for eating B'Elanna's food and making her cry. Neither seemed to be cause for gratitude but she squeezed B'Elanna's hand as they walked to the turbolift which was still waiting. B'Elanna turned just inside the doors, looked up at the gentle Borg and surprised them both by leaning up and kissing the blonde gently on the mouth. Dazed Seven stepped back and the turbolift closed and whisked B'Elanna away to the normal world.

****************

"First base," chorused Maurice slapping Edmund on the back. "We're at first base."

"Tremendous old chap." And Edmund did look a little pleased, his ordeal was nearly over. "B..but I think we are at the point where watching them any further counts less as Cupid and m..more as perversion. I think they can take it from here."

Maurice was disappointed.

"I want to make sure there are no more misunderstandings."

"M..Maurice if they have any future, they will have to be able to cope without your interventions" said Edmund firmly.

Maurice looked a little sulky but brightened as he remembered the success of his plan.

"Did you see how they didn't even realise that neither had arranged their tryst. What marvellous confusion."

"Yes it was splendid. Now get down there and clear up that mess before anyone notices the security breach."

Maurice nodded and made to go.

"But I insist that we monitor them for a few more days. Just to be sure. And if you won't help..." He smiled broadly as he left.

"M..Maurice, MAURICE." Edmund kicked his console in frustration.

Friday Morning 5.58
-------------------

B'Elanna stood outside the doors of Cargo Bay 2 talking to her baby.

"Okay Little Bel this is going to be dangerous. Your mission is to melt the ice queen's heart. Is that understood" She kissed the baby's forehead and Annabel gurgled happily.

"Right ready your weapons. That's it a nice big smile for Mama. We're going in."

B'Elanna tried to control her nerves. She hadn't really meant to take Annabel but equally hadn't wanted to make anyone else curious by leaving her with someone. She wanted to keep this early morning meeting to herself.

They entered the darkened storage area. The only light was the glow of the Borg regeneration unit. B'Elanna stopped in front of the alcove and gazed up at the Borg, standing tall and rigid in the unbreakable grip of regeneration. She was beautiful and a little frightening in her mechanical cradle; it hummed greenly and gently, cruelly insisting on her alien origins. In the half light it wasn't hard to imagine yourself aboard a Borg vessel.

It was exactly 6am.

REGENERATION CYCLE COMPLETE

Startled, B'Elanna yelped and Annabel immediately started to cry.

Seven of Nine opened her eyes, disorientated. She hated regaining consciousness in the middle of a crisis. And from the screaming noises it was apparent that Voyager was under attack again.

"Computer. Status of Voyager" she said just before her consciousness apprised her of the true situation. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres was standing in front of her with her sub-unit, Annabel Torres-Paris who was apparently in some distress.

'ALL SYSTEMS ARE FUNCTIONING NORMALLY' said Voyager's computer.

"Apart from Annabel" retorted B'Elanna Torres, speaking quite loudly to be heard above the screams of her daughter. The half-Klingon smiled at Seven of Nine and the ex-drone's still disoriented understanding lurched a little further into confusion.

"Annabel is unwell?" asked Seven anxiously. Released by the alcove Seven stepped down quickly and placed her hand on Annabel's forehead. The temperature was normal despite the crumpled red face that continued to howl with disapproval.

"I'm sorry," said B'Elanna. "I must have frightened her. I didn't really mean to wake you like this."

"You did not wake me." said Seven precisely, "I mean my cycle had completed normally. Why are you here Lieutenant Torres?" she asked abruptly, needing an explanation more desperately than she would have liked. Curiosity was one of the first human emotions she had ever experienced and the urge to know was often the source of her more humiliating experiences. Recently she had tried to restrain the impulse but it popped out at inconvenient moments. She waited for the inevitable verbal slapdown.

B'Elanna took a deep breath. "Seven of Nine. Would you do me the honour of having breakfast with me and my daughter?" Seven didn't react and B'Elanna started to flounder. "I know you have just regenerated and don't require..."

"...any nutritional supplements," Seven finished for her and smiled gently. "Despite that I would very much like to accompany you to breakfast, B'Elanna Torres. May I hold Annabel?"

B'Elanna said nothing. She grinned in return and passed her still shrieking offspring to Seven. The Borg placed the baby on her shoulder and gently rocked the crying baby as they walked.

After a few additional shrieks and some cursory whimpers, Annabel decided the danger was over and she and mama were safe again. The blue giant had nice shiny bits and besides she felt safe here.

"How do you do that?" asked B'Elanna feeling slightly envious.

"Low level vibration at precise frequencies similar to pre-natal environment." explained Seven succinctly.

"You mean jiggling her up and down."

"Er yes but at precise..." Seven trailed off when she observed B'Elanna biting her lip in an obviously unsuccessful attempt to stifle a giggle. "Why is that amusing to you Lieutenant?"

"Because Seven of Nine no-one else would attempt to explain such magical skills with such mundane science."

"But it is not magic" Seven responded stubbornly.

They stopped by the turbolift doors.

"I think it is magic of a sort. Little Bel somehow knows she can trust you" she stammered unconvincingly. And then added to herself, 'She's a lot smarter than her mother.'

Seven would have argued the point but lucidity fled when she met B'Elanna's eyes.

B'Elanna stood looking up into Seven's face and became conscious of a need to taste the sweet full lips again. She rapidly repressed her burst of desire and tried to convert it to harmless affection but like a mouse stepping on the trigger of a mousetrap she was caught fast by the unbidden impulse.

Silently they entered the turbolift. They stood nearer to each other than was comfortable but not close enough to actually touch.

*************

Maurice watched disapprovingly. 'What are you waiting for mes amis? Christmas? Look at them standing there like a pair of damp kippers. They are hopeless, both of them.' Deliberately he flicked up the cover on the emergency stop panel. 'I have to do everything myself.'

**************

The lift jolted sharply up and down and its occupants staggered and clung to each other. Annabel was enjoying the ride on Seven of Nine shoulder, chortling as she bounced up and down.

"What is going on?" B'Elanna shouted over the screech of emergency brakes being applied and released.

"More turbolift excitement apparently," replied Seven hanging on tightly to both Annabel and B'Elanna and bracing herself against the side wall. The lurching suddenly stopped with a violent final jolt. Enough to leave them all in a heap on the ground.

Annabel screamed in delight.

"Well I think it's safe to say space travel will hold no fears for her." said her mother. "Are you alright Seven?" she asked anxiously after realising that the unfortunate Borg was at the bottom of the heap of Torres women.

"I am functioning adequately," replied Seven. "now the lift is stationary."

B'Elanna moved to allow Seven to breathe and was startled when the Borg's grip tightened instead of releasing her. She twisted her head to find that Seven's lips were a few centimetres from her own.

"B'Elanna," said Seven. "I..."

B'Elanna could have sworn she heard a strangled voice in her left ear saying 'Kiss Her, Kiss Her.' And suddenly it seemed like a damned good idea.

*************

At their usual post in deflector control Maurice and Edmund were struggling; Maurice trying to yell into the emergency lift comm while Edmund attempted to muffled him. The titanic struggle was interrupted by a cool voice.

"Mr Dupre and Mr Brown." Commander Tuvok glanced at the monitor. "It would appear that you have been playing tricks on members of the senior staff. Do you wish to explain your behaviour?"

Released from Edmund's strangle-hold Maurice looked triumphantly at the monitor where B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine were now wrapped in each others arms and oblivious to the arrival of the lift at its destination and the small audience of crewmen watching.

"Commander, you may throw the book at me but love has won out as I knew it would."

"It will be interesting Mr Dupre to see whether the Captain regards playing Cupid as a mitigating circumstance." answered Mr Tuvok with a straight face.

Epilogue
--------

A few years later Seven of Nine and her wife were reminiscing about their early years on Voyager.

"Of course I knew it was you that arranged all those little turbolift accidents. You said as much at the time."

B'Elanna snorted derisively.

"Oh no. That was you. I found evidence of tampering all over the place."

"Yes by you," replied Seven amused by B'Elanna's need to keep up the pretence after so much time.

"I am telling you that it was not me. On my mother's honour."

Seven took that seriously. "Well then who was it? Answer me that."

B'Elanna had no answer. But her twelve year old daughter Annabel had no such difficulties.

"That's easy. Captain Tuvok told me the story when I was eight. I asked him to read me a story and he told me about how you and my Mother fell in love."

Her mothers looked at her with open disbelief.

"Tuvok told you?" said B'Elanna smirking which was entirely the wrong approach with her oldest daughter.

"Well if you are not going to believe me then I shan't tell you what happened. So there!" Annabel shouted and ran away to climb a tree.

THE END