Title: The Cutting Edge
Author: Alex Voy
Contact: voy.odyssey@virgin.net
Web page: http://freespace.virgin.net/voy.odyssey/index.htm
Series: VOY
Rating: [PG]
Codes: J, 7 Janeway Fest
Part: New 1/1
Summary: Coda to "Unimatrix Zero". It's role-reversal time as Seven
tries to help Janeway regain her humanity.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters and Voyager. No infringement
of copyright is intended.

Acknowledgements: My thanks to Kelly for beta-reading this story --
any remaining mistakes are all mine. The story was inspired by
Rocky's wish for a Janeway and Seven story with the emphasis on
Seven's contribution to the friendship.

Note: I never believed recovery from assimilation by the Borg could be
accomplished by a few days in sickbay and a mug of coffee.

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

The Cutting Edge
By Alex Voy

"Resistance is futile." The Borg Queen watched her captive almost
curiously as she reached towards Janeway's face.

Unable to ignore the reflex revulsion, Janeway flinched at the
sensation of unexpectedly soft fingers tracing the contours of her
cheek and jaw line. The touch was light, almost a caress that
feathered across her skin towards the captain's pips on her collar

"Your distinctiveness will be added to the Borg consciousness at last,
Captain." The Queen leaned forward, her voice soft and seductive.
Janeway jerked back in the grip of the two drones that held her arms.
The Queen almost smiled when her assimilation tubules extended from
her hand, piercing Janeway's neck.

Janeway's head arched back, and she cried out in shock and surprise at
the jolt of white-hot pain. She saw the Borg Queen's eyes close in
near-ecstasy. An agony of spreading coldness crawled through Janeway's
body. The overwhelming babble of the millions of hive voices surged
through her mind, with the Queen's soft tone riding the ocean of
sound.

"We are Borg." The words filled Janeway's being, crushing everything
within her, expanding endlessly throughout the Borg consciousness that
enveloped her in suffocating control.

"We are Borg." Janeway repeated, as the final remnant of her will
receded from her grasp.

"Captain?"

Janeway thrashed against the restraining fabric of her blanket and sat
up on the biobed. With a shuddering breath, she jerked away from the
Doctor's touch on her shoulder.

"Captain, it's all right. You're safe now."

The Doctor's dark eyes radiated concern, but to Janeway, they were too
reminiscent of the Borg Queen's inhuman gaze looming over her. She
rubbed the back of her hand across her face, feeling the sheen of
sweat on her forehead.

The Doctor ran a diagnostic device over her as she lay back on the
biobed, her forearm still across her eyes while she tried to control
her breathing.

"Your blood pressure and heart rate are elevated," the Doctor said.
"I'll administer a sedative to help you rest."

"No." Her voice sounded more like a croak to her. "It was only a
dream."

"You've endured a deeply disturbing experience, Captain. With time, I
can remove most of the Borg implants and restore your human
physiology. But there's little I can do to aid your recovery from the
psychological reaction to your assimilation."

"My mind was never affected, Doctor. I suggest you reserve your
amateur counselling sessions for Tuvok." Janeway's breathing had
returned to a more acceptable level. She removed her arm from her eyes
to look at the EMH. "I'll be fine once you've taken the rest of this
Borg hardware out of my system."

"As you wish, Captain." The Doctor's disapproval was obvious. In more
normal times, Janeway would have found it difficult to suppress a
smile at his tight-lipped exasperation. In her present condition, she
was alarmed to feel the pricking of tears when he turned away to a
tray of instruments. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, she
turned toward the bulkhead, her eyes deliberately avoiding the hunched
shape that was Tuvok on a neighbouring treatment bed

Janeway hoped B'Elanna's Klingon physiology had enabled her to throw
off the more debilitating effects of assimilation. She'd known it
wouldn't be easy, but she hadn't expected to be assailed by images
from the Borg cube every time she closed her eyes. In the five days
since her return to Voyager, she had slept for only a few hours in
brief intermittent spells, waking each time with the Borg Queen's
voice seething in her skull.

She longed for the comfort of her own quarters, but had been overruled
by the Doctor's insistence that she remain in sickbay for the duration
of a series of surgical procedures that would free her body of
implants. Janeway was beginning to fear that the lack of sleep was
impeding her recovery. She wondered how long she would have to endure
the knowledge that some of her vital functions were being controlled
by Borg implants. She lay staring at the bulkhead, unwilling to
surrender to the sleep of the hive mind within her own head.

When she heard the sickbay door open, and familiar footsteps
approached her bed, she realized she didn't want to talk, either. She
closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

"Captain Janeway." Seven's monotone sounded loud against the faint hum
of ship's systems in sickbay. After an extended silence, Seven
continued. "Your respiration and heart beat are elevated; therefore I
must conclude you are awake."

Damn Seven's Borg sensory enhancements. Janeway groaned and turned
onto her back. "Yes, Seven. I'm awake, although I'm trying not to be."

Seven studied her in silence, her features shadowed but still readable
in the semi-gloom of lowered lighting.

"Regeneration in my alcove could prove beneficial to your condition,"
she said at last.

"That's a generous offer, but I think I'll stick with just trying to
get some sleep." Janeway suppressed an involuntary shudder at the
image Seven's suggestion evoked in her mind.

There was another lengthy silence, during which Janeway became
uncomfortably conscious of her own shortcomings in the eyes of the
immaculate ex-drone. She was only too aware of her gaunt features and
dark-ringed eyes. Her human frailty must be quite obvious to Seven of
Nine, whose ocular implant was far more efficient at making use of the
available light level than any human eyes.

"Recovery from assimilation can be traumatic," Seven said.

"I'm fine," Janeway said shortly.

"I wish to assist in your recovery." Seven's voice was almost gentle.

"Assist..." Janeway repeated, momentarily taken aback by this
unexpected offer.

"When I was severed from the collective, you helped me adjust to life
as an individual. I know what it is to be Borg. I know how difficult
it is to adapt to becoming human again."

"Our circumstances are different," Janeway said. "I was never
connected to the hive mind."

"You were not connected, yet the Borg are still in your mind. Your
body was assimilated. You are experiencing the same invasive
procedures I underwent to remove the Borg implants."

Janeway looked at the Borg mesh-covered hand, almost level with her
face, and only inches from her neck as Seven stood looking down at
her. Moving uneasily on the biobed, she was unable to banish the
thought of assimilation tubules springing from that hand. She turned
away from Seven and the image in her mind.

"I'll be fine once the Doctor has removed the rest of the implants."

"Why do you reject my assistance? You have told me on numerous
occasions that it is human to aid others, yet I have observed you are
always unwilling to accept help from those you call 'friends'."

"I'm the captain. I can't allow friendship to undermine that position.
I have to preserve my authority. You know that, Seven."

"Since I became a part of this crew, I have defied your authority on
several occasions. However, I have never questioned it. I don't
believe your authority would be compromised if you were to admit I
could be of assistance."

"Seven, I appreciate both the offer and the thought behind it, but
what I really need right now is a good night's sleep, not a debate."

"The Borg do not sleep," Seven said.

Janeway looked sharply at her, then glanced away in dismay at the
unexpected sympathy she saw in Seven's pale gaze. Like so many of her
discussions with Seven, this one was not going as she would have
preferred. Of all the times for Seven to show her newfound humanity,
this was not the moment Janeway would have chosen. She felt too raw,
too tired, and far too vulnerable to deal with Seven's relentless
pursuit of her objective. The last thing Janeway wanted was to compare
notes on how it felt to be Borg. She knew only too well how it felt,
and she certainly didn't need to talk about it, especially not with
Seven. There were already far too many Borg in her head.

"You are afraid."

"What?" Startled, Janeway looked up at Seven.

"I, too, was afraid when I was severed from the collective."

"Seven, I've already told you our circumstances were quite different."

"Perhaps there are more similarities than you are willing to concede.
I was afraid of the silence. You are afraid to have your silence
invaded by the Borg. I was afraid of being an individual, alone. You
also believe yourself to be alone in your position of command. You are
afraid to accept my sympathy because you fear what you see as your own
weakness."

The words, and Seven's coldly analytical tone, sent a chill through
Janeway that reminded her forcefully of the nanoprobe invasion of
assimilation. But when she met Seven's gaze, she saw not the expected
arrogance, but concern and a very human compassion. Janeway looked
away, her jaw clenched tight

"I don't need your pity, Seven," she said in a low voice. "I think
you'd better leave."

"I don't pity you, Captain. I feel the empathy resulting from a shared
unpleasant experience ­ and I feel concern for a friend."

"Seven"

"Allow me to help you, Captain. Please."

Janeway felt as though a heavy weight had been placed on her chest.
She had never before heard Seven say the word 'please' with any
feeling. On the rare occasions when Seven had added the word to a
request, it had been purely an acknowledgement of an unnecessary, but
expected human custom. This time, it was a plea, a genuine expression
of emotion at a moment when Janeway was least able to deal with it.

She let out a long, unsteady breath as she realized that maybe there
were some voices she wanted to hear. And at least one Borg she was
glad to have at her side. In Unimatrix Zero, she'd had a glimpse of
Annika Hansen, the human. That memory now pushed through the Borg
presence in her mind.

"Resistance is futile." Janeway wasn't sure if she said the words, or
merely imagined them.

Slowly, she reached out and gripped Seven's hand, letting the warm
pressure of strong human fingers wrap gently around her own.

END

"The hand is the cutting edge of the mind."
'The Ascent of Man' -- Jacob Bronowski.