Customs and Rituals
by Jenn
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom/Huge Corporation owns them--I just play with them for the heck of it. Don't sue. The characters may be yours, but the story is mine.
Credits: Sorcha and Ann, the former promising eternal gratitude and the latter a double chocolate brownie recipe. I now have the recipe, here is the story. Thanks.
*****
Seven examined carefully the new interest that had begun to take up a considerable portion of her thoughts during the day.
She enjoyed Lieutenant Paris' company.
She was--surprised--to be able to state that with such assurance. She had found over time that she missed his presence when he was otherwise occupied during an evening. Their infrequent meetings in the Messhall she had come to anticipate with--pleasure. More than that, she had caught herself finding reasons to seek him out during duty, whether for assistance in Astrometrics, or merely to go over new sensor readings.
The sensation was not unpleasant. Seven came to a decision.
* * * * *
"Ensign Kim."
Seven watched as Harry glance up at her from his position in the Messhall, a smile turning up his mouth as she came into his visual range.
He often had that reaction when he saw her.
"Seven. Hey. Sit down." He pushed the seat beside him out in obvious invitation.
She took the chair across from him and thought carefully about what she was about to ask.
"I have a--question--regarding human personal interactions I wish to ask you."
"Ask away."
She took that as a 'yes'.
"I understand that an unspecified amount of time must pass between the termination of a relationship with one person and the beginning of a relationship with another. However, I have not found references to the exact amount of time necessary in the databases.'
Harry blinked, and she watched as something she couldn't identify played across his face.
"This is about Tom, isn't it?" He was no longer looking at her, but focused on a point just beyond her shoulder. Seven nodded shortly.
"Yes."
Harry sighed.
"It's only been three weeks, Seven. I'm not sure if now is a good time for you to be considering this--if ever."
Seven tilted her head. She had not expected opposition.
"Why? Explain."
"Seven--Tom and B'Elanna had a very--intense--personal relationship. Despite what's happened, I don't think either one of them is really--damn, I don't know how to put this." He ran his fingers through his hair, his expression troubled. "Seven, I don't think that the termination, as you put it, is permanent."
Seven took that under advisement.
"From my observations, I do not believe Lieutenant Paris would consider renewing his relationship with Lieutenant Torres."
Harry's eyes darted to her face sharply.
"Why?"
"Lieutenant Paris' actions since the termination have been--erratic, but I have not seen any symptom of continued regard. He and Lieutenant Torres avoid each other in all non-duty hours. And--" she stopped, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say. "When Lieutenant Torres approached Lieutenant Paris two days ago in the Messhall, he--acted in a manner that I interpreted as hostile."
"She broke up with him. He would be hostile, Seven. Hell, I would probably be too."
"Lieutenant Torres did not terminate the relationship. Lieutenant Paris did."
Again, that sharp look, and she wondered why.
"How do you know?"
"I observed the behavior of Lieutenants Torres and Paris since the termination, and comments made by both lead me to believe that the termination occurred after--," Seven searched her memory carefully, "--certain things were said by Lieutenant Torres to Lieutenant Paris that--acted as a catalyst for Lieutenant Paris discontinuing his relationship with Lieutenant Torres."
"That doesn't sound like Tom."
"You do not approve of my-interest--in beginning a relationship with Lieutenant Paris?"
Harry paused, and then sighed again.
"Seven, that's up to you. I just don't want to see you get hurt, that's all." Whatever else he had meant to say he did not, and Seven was satisfied. "And there is no specified length of time between the--termination--and beginning another relationship. It's when both people feel they are ready."
"I require your assistance to develop a holoprogram for Lieutenant Paris."
Harry straightened.
"A holoprogram?"
"I understand that to begin a relationship, a ritual known as a 'first date' needs to be completed. I would like to develop a program for this ritual."
"Ritual." Harry's grin was reluctant to her eyes. "I see. What did you have in mind?"
"Lieutenant Paris enjoyed recreational activities in an Earth city called Marseilles."
"I don't think Sandrine's would be appropriate, Seven."
"I was considering a standard 'date' scenario, Ensign Kim. In the database, this refers to a restaurant of some kind."
Harry nodded warily.
"I am unfamiliar with the details of such a program. I require your assistance."
Harry took a breath, then let it out.
"Okay, Seven. What time?"
"I have an engagement with Lieutenant Paris on the holodeck tonight at 2000 hours for instruction in sailing. A time after that would be acceptable."
"2200 hours?"
"Yes."
She rose and turned to leave.
"Seven?"
She met Harry's eyes.
"Be careful. I don't want you to get hurt, and--" he paused, shaking his head. "Just be careful with what you expect, Seven. I don't think Tom is ready for this."
Seven felt herself stiffen abruptly and forced herself to nod.
"Your--concern--is appreciated." Then she left.
* * * * *
{Two Days Later}
Seven waited as Lieutenant Paris finished assisting her in repairs to the power couplings in Astrometrics.
She had debated the correct time to extend her request and decided that a neutral environment would be the most appropriate venue. She clasped her hands and prepared herself.
"Lieutenant Paris." Her voice was cool, but as she stood by the main board, she found herself shifting from one foot to the other. She categorized the unfamiliar feeling as nervousness, and examined it briefly before turning her attention back to the console that Tom currently engaged in repairing.
"Are the power levels still unstable?" She could see Tom's legs extending out from beneath it. A discarded relay lay on the floor near his feet.
"No, Lieutenant. They are running at peak efficiency. I wish to ask you something of a personal nature."
Seven watched Tom close up the panel and slide nimbly from under it, brushing his hands off on his uniform trousers.
"Shoot," he said. Seven frowned, uncertain of his language, and Tom grinned and quickly corrected himself.
"Old Earth slang, Seven. What is it you want to ask me?" He picked up the power relay from the floor
"Are you free for dinner tonight?"
Seven found, to her surprise, that sweat had broken out on the palms of her hands. When she had approached Harry about the program, she had been certain Lieutenant Paris would accept.
Now, Harry's warnings returned to her memory, and she was no longer sure.
"Dinner?" He looked startled. His grip on the power coupling seemed in danger of slipping and Seven briefly debated moving into a more accessible range to retrieve it before he dropped it. However, he seemed to remember what he held and placed the coupling carefully on the console nearest his location.
"Yes." She lifted her chin, waiting for his response. Tom regarded her for a few more seconds with a slightly blank expression.
"Seven, let me just make sure--are you asking me on a date?" His voice was edged with disbelief.
Seven nodded sharply. She locked her hands behind her back, drawing in a deep breath..
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
{He will refuse.}
"All right. Any place in particular?" His head was slightly tilted, and a smile turned his mouth.
Seven felt her stomach unclench.
"I reserved two hours on Holodeck One for 2000 hours tonight, if that is acceptable, Lieutenant."
"Okay."
They looked at each other for a long time, and Seven searched for something to say. Tom slowly crossed the room, coming to stand near her.
"Umm…Seven, remember, you can use my name. I'm off-shift." A memory of their earlier conversation came instantly to mind, and she saw the same memory in his face. Seven nodded slowly, meeting his eyes.
"I will see you there, then," Seven answered. "Tom." He nodded, the smile still apparent, even a little--more relaxed? His hand touched her shoulder gently, and she found herself leaning into the touch.
"I'll see you then."
* * * * *
{Four hours later}
"I want to know what apparel would be appropriate for a 'date', Captain," Seven told Captain Janeway.
She noted the Captain looked--surprised.
"A date, Seven?" Her voice, to Seven's ear, also sounded somewhat flat. Seven observed these reactions with curiosity.
"Yes, Captain. I am engaging in a ritual 'first date' with Lieutenant Paris, and I require assistance. The database was not--helpful--in explaining what kind of clothing is appropriate to the ritual."
She noted that the Captain's mouth gaped and frowned.
"Is something wrong, Captain?"
"Seven--Tom asked you out on a date?" The shock was obvious. Seven, to her own surprise, found herself already growing weary with this reaction.
"No. I requested that Lieutenant Paris accompany me on a 'date'. He agreed to my request. I have chosen an appropriate holodeck scenario, but I am--uncertain--which clothing would be most appropriate for this ritual."
"Ritual." Her voice was blank. Seven had assumed that Captain Janeway had engaged in the ritual, as it seemed that most humans, by the time they had reached a maturity, chose a temporary or permanent mate. Her assumption, however, could be formed on mistaken premises, and Seven debated whether Captain Janeway was the most appropriate person on the ship to approach.
"The custom of a first date. I understand that the participants attach a great deal of significance to how it proceeds."
"Yes. I've been on dates, Seven." Janeway sat up straight at her desk, then rose. "Come sit down."
"I prefer to stand."
Janeway had already crossed to the couch. She gave Seven a look the former Borg was aware reflected impatience.
"I would prefer that you sat for a moment, Seven." Seven reluctantly approached the couch and perched on the edge gaze fixed on the older woman's face as she turned to look at her.
"You asked Lieutenant Paris out on a date, Seven?"
"Yes, Captain."
"And he said yes?"
"Yes, Captain, he agreed to my request."
Janeway sighed. Seven found herself becoming impatient with that reaction as well.
"Seven--you are aware that Tom and B'Elanna have only recently ended their relationship."
"Yes, I am, Captain." Seven studied the woman's face and noted the dismay. "I see. You do not approve of my attempt at this form of socialization."
"No!" Captain Janeway leaned forward, her expression intense. "Seven, I support your desire to socialize with the crew. I just--I don't think that Lieutenant Paris, at this time, is the best person for you to do it with."
"Because of the recent termination of his relationship with Lieutenant Torres? I understand that, Captain. Ensign Kim gave me similar--advice."
Janeway nodded slowly.
"And you're not going to listen to either one of us, are you?" Her voice sounded resigned.
"My own observations have led me to believe Lieutenant Paris has no objections to my request, and I do not believe he would have accepted if he still--wished to pursue a relationship with Lieutenant Torres."
Seven watched the myriad emotions play across the Captain's face.
"Seven, why did you ask Tom, of all the people on this ship?"
Seven considered the question carefully before responding.
"I enjoy his company, and I find myself--anticipating--future social interactions with him."
"Are you attracted to him?" The Captain leaned an arm on the back of the couch, bracing her head as she faced the calm Borg. "Dating is not simply friendship."
"Do you mean to ask if I wish to copulate with him?"
Janeway's mouth twitched.
"Something like that, Seven."
Seven glanced down at the hands clasped in her lap, then back up to meet the Captain's eyes steadily.
"I have--unusual reactions--when he touches my hand or my shoulder. I--enjoy touching him, and have found myself--doing so deliberately, without cause." Seven looked out the window for a moment, trying to find the words for what she wished to relate. "I do not know if this is what you mean, Captain. In the database, my reactions are classified under 'attraction'."
"Good to know you did your research." Janeway smiled a little. Apparently, the Captain would desist in further arguments. "Seven if this is what you want to do, you're an adult, and so is Tom. You make your own choices. I just--I don't want either of you hurt. And Tom is very fragile right now."
Seven referenced the standard definition of the term to Lieutenant Paris' emotional state and decided that the Captain was correct.
"I understand that. I have observed him for the past three weeks and have spent time in recreational pursuits with him. I would not--hurt him."
"I don't think you would mean to."
"I will not, Captain." Seven was certain of that.
Janeway smiled then, a little reluctantly, but Seven took it as approval.
"All right, Seven. Something to wear for your date. Let's look at our options."
Seven breathed out, more relieved than she had anticipated, and rose with the Captain to peruse the clothing database.
* * * * *
Part 2/3
* * * * *
{1900 hours}
Seven arrived an hour before the designated time to prepare.
"Computer, engage holodeck program Seven Three. Authorization Seven Nine Beta One Six. Engage privacy lock."
The small Marseilles restaurant she and Ensign Kim had worked on for several days appeared, and Seven walked its parameters, checking for flaws in the design. With Ensign Kim's assistance, she had discovered a scenario that seemed the most appropriate to Lieutenant Paris' known interests, i.e. Marseilles, France, and had found the proper replicator files for the meal she had selected.
It had been a more complicated process than she had first assumed. As she had studied in the cultural database, first dates were considered extremely important in most species, as they usually set the pattern by which the future social interactions of the two participants would be guided. Intensive study, however, had not revealed a formula by which she could plan the evening to conform to the desired reaction, and Seven had finally been forced to ask Ensign Kim for further assistance.
* * * * *
"Seven, you're asking the wrong person." Harry programmed in another parameter to Seven's satisfaction and turned to face her.
"You have been on 'first dates', have you not, Ensign Kim?"
He looked a little startled.
"Yes. But that was a long time ago."
"Only within the last fifteen months you have had six different 'first dates', Ensign Kim."
He flushed and Seven wondered what she had said that would cause Ensign Kim embarrassment.
"Well--"
"That I am aware of," she added, and watched, with some amusement, as his face reddened more. It was--an interesting reaction.
"Seven, that's a little different."
"Explain."
He tossed up his hands, turning away from the console they'd been studying to select a program.
"Seven--never mind. There is no formula. It depends on the people involved, how they react to each other--what they like to do. There's no methodology involved, except making sure that both people have a great time and want to repeat it."
"How can I assure that Lieutenant Paris will wish to repeat the experience?"
Seven watched Ensign Kim's mouth gape a little, and his hands stilled on the controls.
"You're serious about this, aren't you?" He stepped back, eyes dark, and Seven could not interpret the look in his eyes.
"Yes, Ensign."
Seven turned back to the console and worked on the alternations to the program as Ensign Kim paced behind her.
"Why?"
"Why what, Ensign?" Her back remained to him.
"Why Tom?"
She paused in her typing and tried to put together what she wanted to impart with some degree of assurance.
"I enjoy his company, Ensign Kim."
"So you suddenly want to change the nature of your relationship?" His voice was low.
"Yes. I have come to believe that our friendship could become something more intimate, and I would like to pursue it."
She focused on the screen, feeling rather than seeing Ensign Kim walked up behind her.
"Seven--look, it's none of my business, but you are both my friends--"
"As you are friends with Lieutenant Torres?" she answered coolly, and she heard Harry take a step back.
"If you think that my trying to explain the possible problems is some way of--if you think that B'Elanna would--"
"Do I believe you are discouraging me on Lieutenant Torres' behalf?" Seven asked, turning around to face him. "No, that had not occurred to me, Ensign Kim." She watched him blink and turned back around. "I can complete the program without further assistance. You may go." She paused, then gave him a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you."
* * * * *
Seven moved to the table they would have the meal on and studied the tablecloth critically, before glancing around the stone balcony she had chosen as the site of the intended date. It had what Ensign Kim referred to as a 'romantic' feeling, and looked over the Atlantic Ocean, though geographically speaking Seven was not certain that the restaurant was actually located anywhere near the coastline. However, there was a stretch of beach for what the computer had called a 'moonlight walk', which seemed to be a popular venue of choice for those engaging in the first date ritual. According to her calculations, there was a thirty-three percent chance of this being the deciding factor in whether or not Lieutenant Paris wished to pursue second date.
Ensign Kim had given her an indecipherable look when she had explained her calculations.
The chosen dinner was her second item of concern, though it's importance she only attached at eleven percent. It had not been difficult to discover Lieutenant Paris' preferences, but it had been difficult to find preferences that matched the standard human meal for a first date. After an exhaustive cross-referencing, she had finally chosen a food that it was well-established he enjoyed and that would help encourage conversation, to which Seven attached forty-five percent of importance.
She checked the chronometer and noted it would be fifteen minutes until the designated time of the date. And she had exhausted her survey of the holoprogram. It had no discernable flaws.
It was ready.
Seven now discovered an unusual side-effect of anticipation. She became what humans called 'nervous'.
To counteract the unfamiliar feeling, Seven took a seat at the table and picked up the wine. It had taken several scans of the database to choose champagne, which she understood was primarily used for celebratory occasions, but could also be interpreted as a 'romantic' wine.
:::Paris to Seven of Nine.:::
Seven stood abruptly and placed the liquor back on the table. She noted, as if from a distance, her hand was a little unsteady. She touched her communicator.
"Seven here, L--Tom. Is there a problem?"
She heard a muted laugh.
:::Nope. I'm just waiting for you to disengage the privacy lock so I can come in.:::
Seven looked at the chronometer and noted, he had arrived early.
"Very well." She tapped her communicator off. "Computer, disengage privacy lock, authorization Seven Alpha Three."
:::Privacy lock disengaged.:::
Seven turned to the doors as they opened, and Tom walked in. Carrying--
"Flowers." He was abiding by custom. She was relieved, and he gave them to her with a little bow. She held them a little awkwardly, unsure what to do with them, then remembered that most roses possessed a fragrance and leaned to smell them.
"Thank you, Tom," she said as she completed the little ritual. Tom grinned, shifting from foot to foot, then she felt his eyes travel down her body and freeze. Eyes darted back up to her face, and she discerned, from the dilation of his eyes and heightened respiratory functions, that he approved of the clothing Captain Janeway had assisted her to select. The Captain had suggested a blue dress. It reached just above her knees, leaving her legs exposed. The bodice had been altered to fit over her corset, but left her arms bare, a situation that was new to her. "Your appearance is acceptable." She had rarely seen him outside his uniform, and the white pullover and red pants were aesthetically pleasing.
"You look beautiful," he breathed
To her surprise, Seven felt her face grow hot under the continued regard.
"Thank you, Tom." Still holding the flowers in one hand, she turned to the table. "Computer, engage privacy lock. Please seat yourself, Tom. I will acquire the meal."
Tom blinked, but he nodded directly after and went to the table, and Seven, still clutching her flowers, went inside the small cafe to find the food she had prepared for the occasion.
Her dilemma, however, was still what to do with the flowers. After a brief internal debate, she approached the replicator and asked for a vase of appropriate volume and height, and placed them in it.
The holographic waiter that Ensign Kim had suggested waited patiently with the tray.
"Accompany me," she ordered, and, vase in hand, walked back to where Tom was sitting. He had, she noted, already opened the champagne and had poured them each a glass. Before she could sit, down, Tom rose and moved to pull her chair out for her. A human custom she recognized from the database, an act of what was called 'good manners'. She sat down, placing the vase in the center of the table, which blocked her sight of Tom immediately.
This would not encourage the important date custom of conversation. Before she could attempt a course of action to remove the obstruction, Tom moved them himself to the edge of the table, and the waiter set down the tray.
His grin warmed her.
"Pizza."
Seven nodded.
"Your known culinary preferences dictated that you would find most enjoyment and feel most comfortable with this dinner."
"Thanks for the thought." He looked amused, which she assumed was a good indicator of the positive progression of the date. She noted his eyes lingered on her face. "I can't remember ever seeing you with your hair like that."
Unconsciously, she touched the complicated style the Captain had showed her how to perform. Each side had been secured with a comb then loosely braided, the end of the braid just touching mid-back.
She had also permitted the Captain to apply cosmetics. The Captain had told her that a first date had significant visual component.
"It was the Captain's proposal that I arrange my hair in a design I do not normally utilize."
"It looks lovely."
Two compliments, she had learned, were a positive sign, and she let herself relax just a little. Everything was proceeding according to plan. Carefully, she picked up her glass.
"I believe at this time I should--make a toast." Tom followed her motion and picked up the delicate glass flute. "To--a pleasant evening." She reached out, letting her glass touch his. She saw Tom grin again but he nodded and took a sip. Seven took a drink as well. The flavor was faintly bitter, with the edge she had come to recognize in synthehol on the few occasions she had attempted to enjoy liquor.
Seven now expected the consumption of the dinner was in order.
"Pepperoni and olive," Tom said, taking a slice and placing it on her plate. She regarded the cheese covered pastry carefully. "Have you ever tried it?"
"I have not." Seven waited until Tom had gotten himself a slice and then followed his movements to lift her own. It was not easy, even with advanced Borg reflexes. The pastry was unstable, and she arranged her fingers as she saw Tom do, to hold it level.
"Be careful," he said, taking a bite. "This is excellent, Seven."
"Thank you." Delicately, she placed her teeth around the triangular end and bit down. As she pulled the pizza away, a string of cheese remained attached to the original slice, and she frowned as it began to dip toward the table. Before she could consider a way to halt the velocity without compromising her uncertain hold on the pastry, Tom reached out, catching it on his finger.
"Should have warned you." His smile was playful. He broke the string before it could slip further, and she placed the slice down and took the string of cheese from him. When she had finished the bite, she nodded, feeling a oily glaze on her chin. She took the napkin and wiped it away.
"Thank you, Tom."
"Do you like olives?"
Seven was chewing one carefully as he asked, and after she had finished the second bite nodded.
"It is acceptable." Appreciation of food, she knew, was common among humans, and she had begun to work at expanding her knowledge of it only recently.
"Acceptable? Olives can be an acquired taste. Do you like it?" For a reason she could not discern, it seemed important for him to have an answer. Seven considered it briefly.
"Yes. The combination of flavor between the olives and the pepperoni is not objectionable."
"I'll just take that as 'yes'," he grinned, taking another bite. "This is a great program, Seven." He looked admiringly at the scenario, and Seven was pleased.
"Thank you, Tom."
They completed the meal with little conversation, which caused Seven some concern until she noted his enjoyment of the food and also remembered that, according to her research, there were often long pauses associated with nervousness and/or confusion during a first date. To balance this, when the holographic waiter returned to inquire about dessert, Seven rose.
Part 3/3
"We will--call--if we wish for dessert. You may go." Then she looked at Tom. "Would you enjoy a walk on the beach, Tom?"
Tom wiped his mouth with the napkin and nodded, having risen when she did.
"Yeah, that'd be great, Seven." He offered her his hand, and Seven noted his eyes went to her feet. "I see you have the right shoes."
"I loaded the database you perused on our last outing on the beach and chose these." The large heels were uncomfortable to wear and had been chosen also because they matched the dark blue of her dress. Tentatively, she took his hand. "I do not require support, Tom."
"Maybe I just want an excuse to touch you."
Seven nodded slowly.
"That is--acceptable." She placed her hand over his and felt his fingers tighten on hers for a moment, a pleasant sensation.
The short stone stairwell led directly onto the sand, and Seven let him lead her down the path just above the shore itself.
"Marseilles," he said softly, and Seven gave him a sideways glance. "I remember this shore, you know. Though--you know, it also reminds me in some ways of San Francisco."
"Ensign Kim helped me adapt it from your open database."
"Harry did?" Tom was surprised. "I'll have to thank him. It's lovely." They came to some rocks, and Tom glanced at her feet.
"I can keep my balance, Lieutenant."
"You fought the Hirogen in heels, I remember," he answered. "I don't doubt it for a second." He climbed up on the first and extended his hand. "But again, I like the excuse."
"I see." She placed her hand in his and let him pull her up. For a moment, she was pressed against him and felt herself begin to flush. She looked up to see Tom's eyes fixed on her face, and the hand clasping hers tightened.
The wind ruffled her hair despite the combs, and Seven felt him touch a loose strand that curved across her cheek. His hand lingered there, and Seven tilted her head up to get a clearer look at his face. His lips brushed hers.
It was a light touch, and Seven, who hadn't expected him to initiate this physical contact before the end of the date, was startled, but did not pull away. She closed her eyes, feeling his hand slide down her shoulder to curve around her waist, pulling her closer, and she raised her other hand to his arm, fingers tight.
And suddenly her balance wasn't perfect, and she wasn't sure why. The pressure on her mouth increased, and she carefully parted her lips and felt the brush of his tongue against her teeth.
She pulled back, startled with the contact.
"Seven--I'm sorry." He had pulled away, looking at her with concern. "I didn't mean--"
Seven blinked.
"Do not be. It was--unexpected." She regarded him for a long moment, unmoving. "I was not--aware--that during this--physical contact--there was--"
He saved her the trouble and grinned again.
"Hmmm. Yes, I remember my first kiss too." He freed her, stepping back, and began the ascent again. She sensed that he wished to put her at ease. Her hand, when his back was turned, touched her mouth.
It had been pleasant.
"Was it an unusual sensation?" Seven was aware of the lingering warmth in the pit of her stomach and cautiously enjoyed the feeling.
"It was. I was--oh, twelve I think." He stopped, tossing a glance back at her. "At a birthday party, in fact. She was older." A little grin again. "Much older."
Seven nodded as he helped her up another rock. She didn't need the assistance, but it was, in fact, an adequate excuse to continue touching him.
"Twelve standard years old." Seven pulled up some of the statistics from her study of the database. "That is the mean age for this form of intimate contact among humans."
Tom turned to look at her as they reached the top.
"Really?" He seemed to think about that. "It was in a closet."
"A--closet? Is that a normal venue for this activity?"
"No." He grinned again, and they began the descent. "But let's just say her parents wouldn't have been too thrilled to see what she was doing. Or me, for that matter. It seemed the safest place at the time."
"I see. So this form of contact is not considered appropriate by parental figures?"
Tom laughed then.
"That is a sociological theory all in itself. With minor children--no." He shook his head.
"You engaged in sexual intercourse when you were still a minor under Federation law," Seven observed
Tom turned abruptly, eyes wide.
"Where--" he shook his head, grinning suddenly. "The Doctor, huh?" He sighed and freed her hand, taking her around the waist to help her down a sharp drop between rocks. Seven braced her hands on his shoulders, and he lifted her carefully, letting her find her balance again before continuing, re-claiming her hand. Seven found that despite the fact she did not require the assistance, she enjoyed his attention. "The things I'll say under the influence of transwarp." He laughed softly.
"I read the logs on your experiment." She gave him a long look.
When they were on the sand again, Tom turned her to the water.
"Do you mind? Unless you don't want to get your feet wet."
She considered her shoes and then the ocean.
"No, I do not mind."
As they approached the water, Tom took note of the sky.
"You programmed this wonderfully. The wind even tastes like salt."
Seven had observed this to Ensign Kim at the beginning of this project and took some satisfaction that she had, in fact, made it perfect.
"Thank you. Ensign Kim was of great assistance." Her toes touched the water and she glanced up at the sky. "Luna, your moon."
"Yours too--you're human, you know."
"My parents were colonists," she answered absently.
"I would like to see your homeworld."
Seven blinked and turned to look at him.
"Homeworld?"
"The world you were born on. Well, not always, but a homeworld is usually defined as your birthplace or the planet you spent the greatest number of your childhood years on. The second wouldn't apply to you, but the first would."
Seven considered that carefully.
"If you wish, I can find the correct program," she answered slowly.
"Only if you want to."
She had never occurred to Seven to search out the appearance of her homeworld.
"I would like to see it, one day," she answered slowly. "It would be--beneficial--to better familiarizing myself with my humanity if I could--understand--where I was born." She searched for another conversational topic. "You were born on Earth in San Francisco, correct?"
"Yes." He seemed inclined not to pursue the topic further and Seven pulled from her memory some of the Doctor's lessons on human interactions and Harry's reluctant observations of Tom's social patterns. Tom preferred not to discuss his past before Voyager unless it was in a situation in which he could use it for the effect of humor.
"Does your family still live there?"
Tom shrugged.
"My mother and sisters, yeah. My dad--he's an Admiral, he's sometimes stationed in different places. I assume so."
Seven remembered that Tom's letter from his family had been lost during their contact with the communications array months before. He would not be aware of any changes in his family's situation. One of her lessons on tact came to mind, and she decided to abandon the topic.
"Seven."
"Yes, Tom?'
He seemed to wish to ask her something, and Seven came to a stop, water lapping at her feet, to look into his face.
"Are you having a good time?'
She blinked, reviewing the evening briefly before responding.
"Yes, I am having a 'good time'."
He nodded, but she was aware that he was still uncertain about something.
"Why did you--" he stopped, thinking. "Why did you ask me--on a date, I mean? I've thought about it--since you asked. Is this one of your lessons on humanity? The procedure of a first date?"
A logical question that Seven had considered when she had reviewed her motivations for extending the request.
"No. I enjoy your company and wish to--" she searched for the words, "--I wish to further our knowledge of each other to discovered whether we are compatible for a--"
"Relationship?"
She nodded briefly and turned her head to fix her eyes on the water.
"What was your reason in accepting, Tom?"
She felt the brush of his fingers on her chin so her head lifted.
"The same reason. I like the idea of exploring the possibilities."
They fell into silence. A comfortable silence. Tom gently pulled her hand and they continued their walk along the line of the water. Seven allowed herself to lean a little against his arm, feeling the warmth of it against her side. He glanced down at her, coming to a stop, eyes meeting hers. A brush of his fingers on her cheek, brushing the strand of hair away that she had not yet attempted to correct. For a moment, her respiratory functions became irregular.
She wondered if he would kiss her again.
:::The time is 2155 hours.:::
They both were startled, and Tom shook his head, stepping back.
"Five minutes left. You know, it doesn't seem like it's been that long."
"No, it does not," Seven admitted, surprised herself that the two hours had passed so rapidly. "I have had an--enjoyable evening."
Tom smiled then.
"So have I. Let's go get your flowers before we end the program, Seven."
They took the easier route back up to the balcony across the sand, and Seven picked up the vase from the table.
"Computer, end program."
Tom touched her arm gently, gaining her attention.
"Do you mind if I walk you home?"
"I understand that is the norm of the ritual first date," Seven answered, and his fingers closed over hers. "Yes, Tom, thank you."
"Ritual?" He sounded amused.
On their walk the cargo bay, Seven explained her research, noting that Tom was chuckling softly as she explained her references to different cultural sources of information. She was aware they passed several crewmembers who appeared--shocked--by their progression, but did not wish to remove attention from Tom to examine the cause.
"You like to be prepared."
"I plan for every contingency," she answered as they arrived at the door.
"Do you mind if I kiss you goodnight, Seven?"
"No, I do not." She placed the vase on the floor and took a small step forward. Again, the arm around her waist, but the other hand cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes at the first touch, relaxing into the feel of his fingers.
It was no more than a warm pressure that lasted only a few moments, and he pulled back.
"Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?" Tom asked, and Seven let out her breath, unaware until that moment that she had been holding it, pleased.
"Yes, Tom, I am."
"Holodeck One, 2000 hours. Will that be okay?" His fingers still lingered on her cheek, and she saw his smile. A smile for her and her alone.
"That is acceptable." Of her own accord, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his, then, tentatively, brushed her tongue across his lips. Then slowly drew back. "I will see you then?"
"Oh yeah." The blue eyes were dilated again. "Definitely. I had a great time tonight, Seven."
Seven warmed further at the sincere statement. He wished to engage in a second 'date'. The ritual had been performed successfully. She had achieved her goal.
Perfection.
The End