Of A Man
by Suz suzvoy@tesco.net

Disclaimer - Yeah, sure. Paramount.

Vague spoilers for 'One Small Step'.


(Memories. Of a child. Studying herself in the mirror. Practising for the day she knows she will dance in front of others. She swivels, inelegantly, but does not care. To her, she is without error. Perfect)

Seven's hands moved precisely over the console in Astrometrics, analysing the latest data.

(White material floating, graceful in the air. Mommy applauds. Mommy laughs. Papa works. Papa builds the cube-shaped model. She does not like it. It looks scary)

The console beeped.

(White material floating. It looks scary)

Seven re-inputed the algorithm.

(Him. "Do you remember what you wanted to be before you were assimilated?" Everything. Everything)

Her jaw clenched.

(Only he would ask. Only he would intrude. She would rebuff the Captain. She would back away from the Doctor. Only he would intrude. "A ballerina." He smiles)

Her hands stopped moving, frozen.

(He smiles and she is confused. She has not had this reaction to him before. She has not had this reaction to anyone before. She is embarrassed. She is nervous. She is secretly delighted at his amusement)

It is irrelevant.

It is inefficient.

It is emotion.

(Memories. Of a child. Of a man. Asking kindly. Being different than before)

It is emotion.

(White material floating. He smiles. Momma applauds. She-)

The door hisses open. She doesn't turn to see who enters. She knows, even though she does not know how.

"Seven, I've brought the latest sensor information for you."

He stands next to her, holding out a PADD.

He does not need to bring the PADD. He could have transferred the data from the bridge.

She meets his gaze as she relieves him of the PADD. "Thank you, Commander."

"You're welcome."

Seven turns back to her console, knowing nothing else to say. Not knowing if she should.

"Need a hand?" He offers, fidgeting.

She cannot hide her pleasure, but keeps her face turned away. "Very well."

He logs into the console next to hers, and begins to sift through the data.

She is distracted by the sight of his hands working on the console. She finds herself studying his profile.

He smiles. He knows. And he does not mind.

She resumes her work.

(Memories. Of a man)


Something That Could Be A Sequel

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