He sat down, stared at the chrono, inspected his unremarkable thumbnail, sighed and stood up again.

He paced around his desk, breathing deeply, inhaling, exhaling...inhaling, exhaling.

He smiled, a little amused by his own stupidity, and then frowned, and then sighed and sat down again.

He picked the PADD up.

He put the PADD back down.

He sighed. Stood up, made his way to the replicator, his back to the vicious little PADD and ordered a glass of water. It materialised and he sighed. Turning, he made his way back to the desk and sat heavily. Rolled his neck to work out the cricks and picked the PADD up again. And as he stared at it he just had to wonder...what would possess her?

He didn't want to know.

He didn't want to tell Janeway. Spirits, he didn't want to tell Janeway.

What had the Captain said? Something like, 'I don't know Chakotay, it's like Seven's taken on a whole new lease of life. She must be learning so much from Tom, I've got to say, she's taking this far better than I would have realised."

He stood up, taking the PADD with him and moved to the window, staring out at the stars. After all, there were other people to consider - Tuvok for one, breach of security and all that, Seven's privacy if nothing else, B'Elanna - no, they wouldn't tell B'Elanna, not directly, not now - Harry, maybe Harry knew? Paris--

The way he'd been recently, Chakotay mused, he'd just roll over like some puppy dog and take Seven's fluent criticism with a big stupid grin. No, actually he probably knew, they'd probably settled down in his quarters and made this list as a cooperative effort. Laughed -- does Seven laugh?-- together as they documented every foible of every officer on the ship.

He probably didn't know about the diary though. The very same diary detailing his every move, his every meal, his every shared quip with Harry, his every --

Chakotay just didn't want to read further. Who the hell did she think she was?

Undercover reporter for 'A Briefing with Neelix.'?

Unlikely, and he couldn't help the smile, considering what she'd noted about the Talaxian Chef.

He moved to sit beneath the window ledge, PADD still gripped in his hand. It was all there, everything, all on that inoffensive little PADD, grey, Starfleet lines, and enough slanderous material to keep the ship going for weeks. Nearly everything that had happened in the last two months or so. Most of it about Tom, but with little notes about Janeway, Tuvok, himself --

He hadn't exactly come by this material honestly. No, not at all...

* * * *

An hour previous

"Here, give it here! Mulchaey!"

Sarah Jenkins reached out a hand and snatched the PADD away from Mulchaey, giving him a playful elbow in the ribs for holding her up, grinning, her eyes lighting as she tapped it on.

The other ensigns gathered around, quietly, as they waited, breath held, for the next instalment of the ongoing saga, a saga that had just got a hell of a lot more explicit.

She settled, almost maternally, into her chair at the head of her collected brood, blue eyes shining as they flickered over the information.

So engrossed were they that they didn't see Chakotay enter the Mess Hall. And he too gave little thought to the gathered junior officers, suspiciously quiet and well behaved in the corner of the Mess Hall. He made his way towards the counter, offering a friendly smile to Neelix who returned a worried smile, wavering a little, eyebrows trembling, eyes yellower than usual.

"Neelix."

"Commander."

"What's the commotion today? Seems Jenkins has quite the band of followers." He smiled warmly and reached for the coffee pot, pouring a cup for the Captain to take to the bridge.

Neelix's smile became more unsteady and then fell, totally, completely, something sad staining his eyes, he leaned towards the Commander.

"Listen a while," he whispered.

Jenkins relaxed her shoulders and tossed her hair a little, the room grew quieter, she cleared her throat. "Stardate 533457.8 Today Tom and I engaged in a pleasing sexual activity. It is obvious to me at this time that he has had numerous sexual partners and has great expertise in this area - he can please me in ways I never thought possible."

Chakotay's brow knitted, he turned back to Neelix, who sighed a little. "Don't be too harsh on them, Commander."

"Why not?"

Neelix turned his back, eyes a little low, weary. "You should hear what she wrote about Sarah."

A laugh went up from the crowd. "I didn't think Seven had it in her," someone exclaimed.

Chakotay edged closer.

"And then some," Jenkins replied, eyes lit with mischief. "From the logs I've got here - I'd say, what - four or five times a day?"

Another laugh.

Sarah blushed a little. "Well, I don't mean to exaggerate."

"Anything on me?" Ashmore asked, perched on a table behind Jenkins, coffee cup in hand, grin from ear to ear...

"Let's see," Jenkins said, eyes back on the PADD, frowning, running a hand though her hair as she concentrated. "Ashmore, D," she mumbled, still scrolling, eyes following the text. "Ah, here. Ensign Ashmore has often assisted me in Astrometrics."

"That it?" someone asked.

"No," Jenkins chastised, "Astrometrics efficiency, blah, blah, something about Chapman. Ashmore," she looked up, grinning, "you're not in love with Paris are you?"

All eyes turned to Ashmore, and he shrugged. "Not that I've noticed. Why?"

"Ensign Ashmore and Lieutenant Paris share an amiable relationship. I have often overheard them discuss matters in the Mess hall - Ensign Ashmore wishes to acquire a copy of "Captain Proton" to impress someone he refers to as only 'some girl.' Yet I have rarely seen him with any female crewmembers who are not otherwise involved or part of his engineering division, and he often gravitates towards Lieutenant Paris in a social situation. I have found it odd that so many of the junior staff will approach Lieutenant Paris in this way -- it is not the same rapport they share with me, Lieutenant Torres or Commander Tuvok. They also often require his assistance, or *aid* in projects that are frankly juvenile in their simplicity. Lieutenant Paris often complains about their constant interruptions yet has never displayed..." Jenkins read carefully, slowly, trying not to trip over the words.

"Sounds to me like Seven's got a lot to say."

Heads bent, Jenkins grimaced, Ashmore nearly dropped his coffee, Neelix scurried away to the back of the kitchen.

"Ensign," he addressed Jenkins. "What's on the PADD?"

She swallowed and looked at him warily, arm outstretched she handed him the article. "It's Seven's sir."

"I worked that out for myself, Ensign," he snapped, taking the PADD from her and switching it off. "Care to explain how you got a copy?"

Silence.

"Anyone else like to help Sarah out?" he asked the gathered crowd. "You see, if no one tells me where this is coming from...I'll have to reprimand you all."

Mulchaey stood, eyes on his shoes, a couple of hands reached out to pull him back down but he resisted and stood there, not knowing quite what to say. "I found it in the science lab. She'd left it in a pile of PADDs that I took home to work on."

Chakotay nodded and shakily Mulchaey sat.

Jenkins, regaining her easy calm, sat down and leaned back in her chair. "Parsons found one in the Mess Hall one day, just with a couple other PADDs. He read the first few paragraphs to see what it was about...and well..."

"How many copies?" he ground out.

"Three or four," she said, "no one knows who made them. Like to hear what she has to say about you, Commander?" Jenkins asked, just waiting, no, asking to be pulled up in front of a disciplinary hearing. Navigation officers were always like that, a reflection of the department head he guessed, all of them, Baythart to Culhane, a mouth faster and smarter than the next - all courtesy of one Tom Paris.

"No, because I seem to recall somewhere along the line that Seven has a right to her privacy."

"And we have a right to ours," Jenkins kicked her feet up onto the table in front of her and leaned back, "after all, I shudder to think the conversations she overhead getting this information - not least what she says about the Captain, you, Lieutenant Torres..."

"What does she say about Lieutenant Torres?" Chakotay asked, a couple of security officers tried to edge away from the back of the crowd, but waited, as Jenkins considered her answer.

"Well sir," she smiled, "I couldn't possibly repeat it in the Mess Hall."

"On your feet, Jenkins," he ordered, watching her.

"Sir." She stood.

"Commander Tuvok's office - one hour."

"Aye sir." She held back the amused smirk, only the corners of her mouth bending upwards ever so slightly.

PADD in hand, roughly twelve sets of eyes on his back, and sick curiosity buzzing around his head he left the Mess Hall. Turning it on he began to read through the log entries, probabilities, predictions. And then, in easy Federation Standard notation the mystery of the Paris-Seven attachment was explained.

He forgot the Captain's coffee.

* * * *

"She's his pet project!"

Janeway smiled, hand gripping her coffee cup. "Talk to her, ask her, sort this out. I'm sure it's all a huge misunderstanding." She took a sip of her coffee and nodded as she swallowed, thinking through the facts. "Look, first of all it's Jenkins you should be disciplining - this is Seven's private PADD."

"It wasn't encrypted," he said, no, seemed like Seven wanted everyone to know what she thought of them, all of them, every single crewmember on the whole damn ship.

Janeway nodded, placing her cup on its saucer and reaching for the PADD, turning it on. "You've read this?" she asked.

"Most of it. It makes fascinating reading."

"How fascinating?" Janeway asked, eyes fixed to the PADD as she too began to scroll through the text.

"It offers a fresh perspective on a couple of things." He dropped to the seat opposite her. "Ever wonder what Neelix really cooks with?"

Janeway grinned and Chakotay grinned back. "Anything else?"

"Everything you've ever wanted to know about Tom Paris times three - I know things I didn't ever want to know."

"Then why did you read it?" Janeway asked, remnants of a smile playing her lips, eyes still rooted to the offending article. "Or are you just a big old gossip?"

His eyes narrowed. "Kathryn..."

"I know, I know," she said, "very serious, needs my attention, Seven saying some not-so-nice things. Let's not jump to conclusions until we talk to her..."

Her mouth dropped open a little, her eyes went wide. He understood, oh yeah, it'd taken Chakotay three minutes just to muster the courage to read the text under the subtitle 'Commander Chakotay's infatuation with Captain Janeway.'

Chakotay merely nodded, pushing the coffee cup towards her. "Take a drink of coffee."

"Thanks," she reached out and took a large sip, finishing the cup and placing it back down. Her eyes met Chakotay's. "She really thinks these things?"

"There's more." Chakotay reached the PADD and brought up the page he'd marked, he began to read. "Captain Janeway is exhibiting signs of extreme stress and an unstable mental disposition. She is irrational and over emotional - erratic and quick to judge, and is fuelled by pride and the misguided interpretation that we must 'explore' this region of space."

"Oh," Janeway sounded, her eyebrows arched and face a little blanched. "Good to know she's right behind me."

"Do you want a copy?" he asked. He'd found Mulchaey's two copies and recycled them. This, for now, was the master copy, save the genuine article that Seven had, somewhere. Well, as far as he knew, which didn't seem like very far at all.

"No," she responded, before shaking her head carefully. "I've had too many damn evaluations in my time -- I don't need another." She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair. "What does she say about Tom?"

"What doesn't she say about him? Height. Weight. Cranial diameter. Interests. Daily routine. They're all there. There's also the list."

"The list?" Janeway inquired, oddly shaken by whatever she'd read.

"Reasons for and against Seven's continued--how did she put it?-- relations with Lieutenant Paris."

"She wants to break it off with him?" Janeway leaned forward.

"No...hold on, let me find it...

"He's..."

"...her pet project," Chakotay finished.

"We talked about this," Janeway said, shoulders slumping, eyes on the PADD that lay on her desk, so innocently, so innocuously.

"I know. A couple of months ago, the Doctor came shooting in here ranting about how she wasn't ready. He was right--"

"No," Janeway said, slowly. "She is ready. Just..."

"Confused?" he asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. "She's got a whole list of modifications here."

"Maybe he needs them," Janeway replied, tone flat.

"Kathryn..." he said softly.

"B'Elanna hurt him," she said matter-of-factly, hands folding on the table.

"B'Elanna didn't want to change him," Chakotay shot back.

"Seven's good for him."

"Matter of opinion." Sensing that she wouldn't be moved on the matter he sat back in his chair.

Janeway sighed. "The whole diary thing, it's out of context, proportion. She took me too literally. This, believe it or not, is my fault."

"Your fault?" Chakotay asked.

"A month ago she came to me with a question..."

* * * * *

"Seven," Janeway smiled.

"Captain."

Janeway looked back down at her console, running back through the final trade agreement with the Xenar. Reaching for her coffee cup she realised it had turned cold and sighed.

The captain stood. "Coffee?" She asked her visitor.

"No," Seven answered. "I wish to talk with you."

"Again?" Janeway smiled. "You can't really go monopolising my time like this. Other crewmembers may get jealous. Please, sit." Not that, of course, she minded spending time with Seven, it was often quite refreshing. Seven had displayed a refreshing view on many subjects, even if half the time Janeway disagreed, a bit of verbal sparring never hurt anyone.

Seven took the chair in front of the desk and watched the captain order her usual beverage from the replicator.

It materialised easily, and Janeway smiled when she clutched it and walked back towards Seven. "What can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Paris..."

Janeway sat, crossing her legs. "How did I guess?" Janeway nodded. Seven unsuccessfully tried to mask her confusion. "Carry on, Seven."

"Do you believe a person is the sum of their experiences?"

Janeway's eyes narrowed, a half smile on her lips. "I..."

Seven continued. "I will soon have exhausted the database for reference."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I will be relying completely on my experience as an individual. Everything I have learned over my last year aboard Voyager."

Janeway nodded. "I see, you're losing your safety blanket."

"There are still many things that I do not fully comprehend, and it has come to my attention that valuable resources are being inadequately employed in some areas of my study."

Janeway chuckled softly. "Seven..."

"There are still many things that I do not fully understand. For example, I do not understand your pre-occupation with coffee, Mr Neelix also claims to not understand, yet I believe that he has a pre-occupation with other food products at his disposal. He may not understand the specifics but he shares a similar infatuation with another nutritional product and therefore can identify with you."

Janeway's brow creased. "Is this going anywhere?"

"I do not understand coffee."

"Why?" Janeway smiled despite her loss of patience. "Why do you have to understand?"

"Because I do not. Because I wish to understand all aspects as life as a human. Because I wish to adapt."

"Seven, you must have realised you will never fully adapt."

"I can try."

Janeway nodded but her tone had softened. "Yes, you can."

"You do not think I will succeed?" The mouth pursed.

Janeway searched the eyes. "Not fully, no."

Seven continued unaffected. "Still, you believe it is in my best interest to endeavour to understand all aspects of Human life?"

"As opposed to a few? Of course I do."

"And that I must utilise all tools at my disposal?"

Janeway didn't think. "Yes."

There was a pause as Seven watched Janeway, head titled a little. She nodded, no doubt her mind made up.

"Thank you Captain; you have been of great assistance."

Janeway offered another half smile and stood with the ex-Borg. "Good day, Seven."

"Good day, Captain." With a turn of her heel and a few precise strides, she was gone.

* * * * *

"If I'd just known she'd take it the way she did..." Janeway sighed.

"I'm going to talk to her."

"Don't tell her we've found the PADD."

Their eyes met. "Why?"

"It'll hurt her."

"Maybe..."

"No, Chakotay," she said firmly. "She doesn't deserve it."

"No one deserves this..." he stopped short. "Are you condoning this?"

"And why not?" Janeway asked, voice soft. "A lot of things go on in Seven's world that she can't understand. Who are we to not let her take notes, write it down, help her make sense of what she's going through? She's just struggling through like the rest of us..."

"She's using our chief conn officer as a test subject."

"She loves him."

"How do we know?" Chakotay asked.

"I..." Janeway sighed, again, and stood up, moving to the replicator. "She talks to me, and I think, underneath all that Borg efficiency, she loves him..."

"...and wants to perfect him," Chakotay finished for her.

"Coffee," she informed the replicator and then turned to Chakotay. "She's not doing any harm."

"To you, me, maybe, but what about B'Elanna?"

Janeway turned to pick up the steaming hot coffee and then moved back to her seat. "B'Elanna? Still taking it badly?"

Chakotay nodded and Janeway sighed again.

The door chime rang. They looked at each other, and then at the door.

"Come," Janeway called.

The doors swished open and Tuvok entered, nodding to Janeway and then Chakotay and moving slowly into the room, PADD in hand.

"Lieutenant Parsons asked me to have this destroyed." He placed the PADD on the desk.

"Seven's?" Janeway asked.

Tuvok nodded. "I've relieved him of duty for the remainder of the day."

"Jenkins?" Chakotay asked.

"She maintains that she did nothing wrong," Tuvok stated. "She has been relieved of duty for the rest of the day but I will take no further action. Under normal circumstances I would coordinate such an action with her department head, but, considering the subject matter I did not feel it appropriate."

"No," Janeway nodded, "I guess not."

"I believe, though, that I have already confronted Seven of Nine on this matter."

Janeway's eyes narrowed and she turned to look up at Tuvok. "You knew?"

"Yes. I intercepted the PADD when I originally found Lieutenant Parsons with it. I reprimanded him at the time."

"Why didn't you come to us?" Chakotay asked.

"It appeared a sensitive issue," Tuvok replied.

"What did she say?" Janeway asked, intrigued.

"She visited my quarters 5 days ago, I had been meditating..."

* * * *

"Sit."

Her eyes adjusted instantly to the new lighting levels and she moved towards the plain couch in the centre of the room.

"There is something you wish to discuss?" Tuvok asked, sitting on the opposite couch. He didn't look at her, his hands clasped, concentrating on some invisible object below him. A prayer lamp flickered to his left and he was attired in his off-duty clothing, rich blue tunic and trousers.

Somehow, she felt no remorse at disturbing him.

"Yes," she responded. "I have been evaluating my life as it stands at this point." She sat gracefully.

"You have discovered something that displeases you?"

"Not exactly."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at her ambiguity. "I see that your time spent with Mr Paris is having an effect."

Seven tensed a little. "I was not aware it had."

"Then you are mistaken."

A silence fell.

"I am...confused," Seven said at last.

"A common occurrence among Humans, yet not one I would attribute to you."

"I have completed my study of a topic. Collected all the information that I require."

Tuvok didn't hesitate. "Then you should terminate the study."

He looked back down, dismissing her in that simple gesture.

"I do not wish to."

"Why?" From anyone else but Tuvok that would have seemed antagonistic, as it was, her answer came easily.

"There are other elements that need to be considered."

"Mr Paris." It was not a guess, merely a deduction. He was, after all, head of Security.

"I believe so."

"You wish to terminate your involvement?" It had only been a matter of time, he realised, until she came to him for guidance, and that wasn't arrogance, merely years of training.

"Perhaps," she conceded. The room was dark and on the window ledge a prayer lamp flickered.

"I understand." He offered her a nod of his head.

"I do not think you do," Seven said, as flat as ever, eyes pinned to him.

"Your original attraction to Mr Paris was based purely upon your curiosity as to his predicament and a chance meeting in the holodeck shortly after his break-up from Lieutenant Torres. On finding his company agreeable you pursued a more stable relationship with him. You developed feelings for him; thoughts of him distracted you from your work. You had what is commonly known as a 'crush' on him. At some point you consummated your relationship. There is now little more you can learn from your association with him and in fact, you would learn more immediately from a termination of your attachment."

"That is correct."

"Do you recognise the feelings you have for Mr Paris to be love?"

"I am...unsure." There it was again, that uncertainty. It seemed to have taken permanent residence at the back of her mind, an unwanted presence, a hindrance. This should have been a simple decision.

"Do you believe he is 'in love' with you?" Tuvok pressed further, the details were always important.

"I do."

"You do not wish to harm him?"

"No." Her lips parted as though there was more she had to say.

"But you wish to explore other areas of study?" he questioned.

"No...I..." There was so much she didn't know, so much she hadn't experienced, she would not allow herself to be limited to one attachment alone, it was not...productive.

"You present to me an intriguing enigma." He paused. "I did not believe you viewed your relationship in this way. Today, through a subordinate in my department I acquired one of your personal PADDs. It's contents were disturbing, to say the very least. I did not believe that your view of the relationship between Lieutenants Paris and Torres to be so distorted."

Seven looked up at him, her mouth pursed.

"Distorted?"

"Jealousy is a Human affliction." He looked her in the eye, waiting for the slight bow of her head to allow him to continue. "You were talking about Mr Paris as though he were a specimen for examination. I believed your feelings for him to run deeper than that."

"The doctor told me I had no way of understanding those feelings. I felt it prudent to...document them."

"You sound as if you were a third year psychology student."

"I was told that a diary would help me to balance decisions effectively."

Tuvok looked at her with what, even in a Vulcan, could only be a harsh stare. "The excerpts I read were far from a diary in style and form. Does Mr Paris know?"

"No."

"Because you are experiencing an emotional attachment to him?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you feel the need to test him? To prove things to yourself that you already know are true?" He did not move, but his tone flattened the way it always did when he had reached the inevitable 'point' to his interrogation.

"Commander?"

"You are too quick to dismiss your feelings." He always showed a slight impatience when forced to repeat himself.

"They are, at times, inconsequential."

"You have strong feelings for Mr Paris, yet you wish to terminate your involvement. That does not appear logical."

"I believed you would understand."

Another emotional response...embarrassment, with some residual form of resentment or anger.

"It is a common misconception that all Vulcans have an in-built disdain for emotion. This is not so. I believe you are currently acting purely out of emotion. You are suffering from what Humans term 'Cold Feet' after the advancement of your involvement with Mr Paris."

"I am aware of the ailment."

"But you do not believe you are suffering from it." He raised his eyebrow again.

"No, this is a purely scientific deduction. There are many reasons why I wish to discontinue my involvement with Lieutenant Paris. Firstly, I am unsure of my feelings for him. He has shown, many times recently, that he has strong feelings for me. At times I am uncertain as to whether I fully return this sentiment. Secondly, it is no longer efficient to spend the majority of my off-hours with him. I would have thought it logical that I should terminate the association, seeing as it is causing me much confusion."

Tuvok's eyes narrowed, his hands clasped in his lap. He said it as though it were obvious. "You are afraid."

"I am not."

"You are unsure of your feelings towards him and frightened by the intensity of his feelings towards you. You are jealous of his past links to Lieutenant Torres and are ashamed of your early intentions, considering only, at the time, the rewards you would gain from a continued period of interaction. This is purely based on emotion."

Everything he said was true.

She looked up at him. "I have come to a disturbing conclusion."

"Which is?"

A conclusion, at first, she seemed reluctant to give.

"I am 'using' Tom." And it was not enough that Captain Janeway seemed to condone her methods.

"Does he appear uncomfortable with this?"

"He seems undaunted when answering any questions that I may have and has consistently tried to help me understand things beyond my grasp."

"Does he receive anything in return?"

"My companionship," she replied simply.

Silence.

"I believe that is enough for Mr Paris."

* * * *

Janeway stared blankly at Chakotay. "Answer any questions?"

"I still think--" he began.

She held up a hand to stop him. "She's sincere."

"Yes, Captain, I do not believe this to be malicious," Tuvok affirmed.

"It's all over the ship," Chakotay said, darkly, not liking the way the conversation was turning.

"I do not believe Lieutenants Paris and Torres know. Ensign Kim also seems oblivious," Tuvok said. "But yes, it is the subject of many a discussion in the Mess Hall."

"How do we stop it?" Janeway asked.

"Let me talk to her." Chakotay stood and made his way toward the door.

"What will you say?"

"That she's hurting a lot of people," Chakotay responded.

"You'll be subtle?" Janeway queried, lips flat and emotionless, eyes sharp.

Chakotay nodded. "I'll be subtle."

Knowing, full well, he wouldn't be. Someone had to tell her, someone had to stop counselling the poor little Borg and bring home some truths.

* * * *

"Sit down, Seven."

She sat.

He picked up the PADD on his desk, turning it on with his thumb. "There has been an incident in the Mess Hall."

She looked down at the PADD, wondering why he held it so tightly and why it was angled such, that from her position she couldn't see it's contents.

She nodded, "Ensign Ashmore informed me of such, though, he would not divulge any details of the occurrence."

He smiled, "I can understand why. One of your PADDs was found, Seven."

Her mouth tightened, "Which one?"

Chakotay looked at her blankly. "Your diary," he said neutrally, watching her openly.

"It documents my relationship with Lieutenant Paris. Why would Ensign Ashmore be in possession of it -- there is nothing within it that one cannot gain by simply asking me."

And she'd tell them? Chakotay wondered. But looking at her, all innocence, all Borg catsuit and perfect posture, he guessed she probably would.

"You have reprimanded him?" Seven tilted her head.

"*They* have been dealt with." He scrolled down further on the PADD, reading it, in part, to remind him of why he had to talk to her.

"Then why am I here?"

Chakotay looked up. His fingers gripping the PADD tighter and he wondered, not for the first time, if having her own, prettily decorated department had gone to her head.

"Please," she added, her neck stiffening as she said it, "Commander."

He chuckled softly to himself before resting the PADD on the table and leaning forward. "I've read the PADD, Seven. Is there anything you'd like to get off your chest?" His smile faltered a little, his cheeks aching from the false sincerity.

"They were my confidential PADDs. And, instead of pursuing those who steal my private belongs you are interrogating me?" she asked, annoyance obvious.

"This isn't an interrogation. I'll say it again, is there anything you'd like to...explain?"

"I am not here to answer questions. Is that my PADD?" she asked, lips pursed.

"Yes."

"Have you read it?" she asked, feigning uttermost disinterest, but somehow not succeeding. He could see it, she knew she'd done wrong, and he knew she'd deny it, but he wasn't prepared to let her get away with playing the innocent.

"Yes."

"Is that the real reason why I am here?" she asked, blue eyes on his straight away, waiting for the immediate and involuntary reaction in his eyes - she'd learned to read the 'mere mortals' well, Chakotay mused.

"Yes," he said, noting his end of the conversation had become startling monosyllabic, no, wait, could she be interrogating him? "I didn't believe yours and Tom's relationship was like that..."

"You know nothing of our relationship," she shot back, coldly, looking, damn, was that hurt?

"No, I don't." Chakotay looked down, breathing slowly, weighing up the right way to do this, to make her see who she'd hurt, what she'd done. "Did you distribute the PADDs?"

She looked almost shocked. And in the space of two minutes Chakotay had seen her run through a larger range of emotions than he'd seen in two years -- and he didn't like it, one bit.

"I did not distribute the PADDs."

"Then how?" Chakotay asked, leaning forward and eyeing her carefully, liking the fact the questions were back on his side.

"They must have been stolen," she affirmed, calmly, like it was natural that there were some petty thief aboard Voyager moving PADDs around the ship, and hiding them, obviously, in other piles of PADDs - yes, Chakotay decided, even with Seven's startling grasp of logic that made very little sense.

Chakotay smiled. "Now, tell me Seven, who'd want to do a thing like that?" He couldn't help the patronising tone, nor the smile that accompanied it.

"I do not know. Someone who wishes to hurt me."

"No one wants to hurt you. You've hurt a lot of other people," he said, and if he hadn't done this, seen her here, so cold yet adamant, he may have even counted himself among them -- if only hurting for B'Elanna.

"You have always underestimated me, Commander," she said, bluntly. "You believe me malicious in my intentions? "

"I've read the PADD, Seven."

"That is not sufficient explanation," she shot back, far easier than he'd have hoped. "You think that my intentions, my wants and needs for my relationship with Lieutenant Paris are sinister in some way?"

"Why do you want to change him, Seven?" he asked, tiredly, leaning back in his chair.

"Because I love him."

"You do?" Chakotay asked, grinning a little at the mechanical way in which she said it, like the automaton she claimed not to be. Maybe she did understand, maybe it all made sense to her, stream lined, measured, accounted for all in the name of love.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"You write..." He gestured to the PADD.

"I write the truth, Commander. And I was content to keep it to myself, to not spread these because I understand your obsession with keeping things 'looking' good -- your appearances that you care so much about. You despise the truth."

He grinned, large and full, belittling her. "And how did you work that out, Seven?"

"Even now," she said, slowly. "You avoid the truth of the situation. You will not tell me what you really think, you disguise yourself behind protocol and your rank."

He looked straight at her and she stiffened. "If that's the case why haven't you told Tom?"

Her lips parted, yet she measured the answer, sensing that he had her in a corner. "He would not react well."

"No," Chakotay said glumly, "I guess he wouldn't. It wouldn't be good if someone told him would it?"

"Commander, are you threatening me?" she asked, jaw tight.

He shook his head, more to placate himself than Seven. "When you love someone Seven, you don't write lists on how you'd like them better, you don't evaluate them, and test them."

"No?" she queried. "You do not look at the Captain and imagine how you would like her better?"

There was a line there, and she'd just crossed it.

"Seven," he growled.

"Even now," she said, self righteously, "you find offence with the truth."

"Get out."

"You will find out who stole my PADD?" she asked, rising to stand and moving to the door.

"Get the hell out!" he shouted, standing now, angry, more angry than he'd been in so long, and knowing he'd regret it the moment she left the room..

"You will..."

"Yes!"

She left the room and he closed his eyes.

Alone, lost and lonely, facing the Borg, 8472s, and whatever else the godforsaken quadrant had to throw at them. And what was playing on his mind?

Seven's diary.

Seven's vicious little diary.

He took the PADD to the replicator and placed it inside, hitting recycle with a quick tap, and staring blankly at the particles as they dissipated.

What had she said? Commander Chakotay continues to turn a blind eye to many matters personal, or otherwise, concerning the crew...

Maybe, for once, he should just live up to his reputation.