by: Dacia
VOY J/7 PG
WARNING: yadda yadda yadda... lesbian themes and/or content... I'm rather liberal about rating systems so I'd put this at 'PG', but for all you puritans (ps- why are you reading this if you are a puritan?) maybe this story should be 'R'. At any rate, there's nothing terribly graphic in here, and I'm not responsible for anything your own imagination conjures up. *s*
DISCLAIMER: For the record: I'm not making any money off of this... don't sue.
As well, I don't own these lovely ladies, and I never will. In fact, I don't really own anything
in this story... most/all of it belongs to Paramount. All I did was rearrange a few words
into a mildly creative order that I guarantee you will never ever see in a Trek script *sigh*.
I am not sure I know where the beginning is, nor where the end will be. I can only offer the intriguing middle to my tale, the flesh of my journey but not the termini.
My first memory as an individual, my first memory of her, is on the ship... home, her eyes flashing, hands on her hips as she dared me to defy her. My Captain never backed away from a fight, even from the dreaded Borg. Though I was still a drone, it was at that moment that a flash of consciousness raced through me, the first in many years sparked by her bravado... only it was not bravado.
I have never known anyone quite like Kathryn, a woman who is exactly what she seems to be. There is no pretense between us, she is honest and plain-dealing, with little regard for artifice. She tells me I am the same, in fact, she tells me I am superior in many ways. And I humour her, agree with her, but secretly I believe that no one can compare to her.
That moment, so many years ago, was my awakening. I was by no means 'cured' of my time with the Borg, I had many long, angry years facing me. Yet in that moment, Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager helped to reclaim a part of Annika Hansen that had been lying dormant for 18 years. And through the years, she came back to the well of my soul, again and again, each time drawing another piece of me from the brink of infinity.
She is brave, she is stubborn, she is beautiful and narrow-minded, she is all these things and so much more, she is perfect in every way, yet she is a flawed human being just as I am. It took me a long time to overcome my Borg prejudices sufficiently to grasp this contradiction in terms.
As I lie here in our bed, wrapped around her compact, lithe form, I give silent thanks that I was permitted to walk this road and make this journey with her. Strands of her auburn hair tickle my nose, and her breathe comes full and deep, pressing her against my chest. A smile touches my lips as I reflect; I have finally found what I always sought as a Borg drone... perfection.
Please take a moment to:
She enjoys most of the major food groups, including Criticism and Praise, however Flames and Hate Mail give her indigestion.
There's no place like home.