|TITLE:Collective Of One
SERIES/CODES:Voyager, P/T, P/7, 7
TIMING:5th Season Current
SUMMARY: A simple clinical observation leads to far more than Seven bargained for.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: We have fallen to the Dark Side. We have been persuaded, on a dare, to write *gasp* a P/7 story. But we couldn't bear to break up Tom and B'Elanna (they're just too perfect!) and we love angst, so we hope this satisfies you P/7 fans out there while not causing our mainly P/T following to run screaming in fear. It's just a short piece, really...a page or so. It's not really a serious symptom of creeping P/7....is it?
BTW, Sasscat, Voyagerbabe says go ahead and post "Irrelevant Discourse", as long as you note in the summary that it was originally written as P/T.
Collective of One
I had intended to observe an example of human sexuality.
It seemed like the perfect opportunity. I could watch their unguarded behavior, my Borg-enhanced optical acuity enabling me to see through the miniscule opening between Jeffries tube 47 Alpha, where I was working, and 47 Gamma, where Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris had been working.
They are no longer working.
They are engaged in sexual physical interaction.
These aspects of Human behavior have always facinated me. I have observed sexual behavior in some form from nearly everyone on this ship...even an underdeveloped specemin such as the Wildman sub-unit displays an awareness of her juvenile attractiveness with such behavior as pouting and fluttering her eyelashes in the presence of male crewmembers to acheive her will. Fully developed individuals tend to take these activities further, ranging from the subtle communications of sexual interest designated "flirting" to actual intercourse, although of the couples I suspect engage in the latter activity, none have been inclined to allow me to observe.
When I was first disengaged from the Collective, I was unaware of my own sexuality. I was first alerted to the fact that I am desirably proportioned by Ensign Kim's dilated pupils and increased respirations whenever he was in visual proximity to me. Since then, a simple study of the database has indicated that my dimensions and physical construction are quite close to the female ideal. My mammary tissues in particular have garnered a great deal of attention from the males of this crew, being on average 15% larger than other females on this ship.
In the beginning, I believed that sexuality was only for the purpous of reproduction. I was ignorant of the emotional connotations of such a relationship. Using what the Doctor calls "Hindsight", I am greatful that Ensign Kim did not accept my initial offers to copulate. I was in some respects as underdeveloped as the Wildman sub-unit at that time, and would possibly have sustained emotional damage had he complied.
Currently, I do not believe I have romantic feelings for anyone on this ship. I consider Ensigns Kim and Paris to be close friends, but I do not think I love either of them. I have seen love. Love is what Ensign Paris and Lieutenant Torres feel for one another, and what Ensign Kim recently experienced with Tal.
Through the opening, I can observe the interations between Paris and Torres. They are engaged in an oral interface right now...I believe it is known as "kissing". The interaction of their tongues indicate that it was what is known as a "French kiss", although this seems rather strange, as neither officer is of French descent. His hands raise to entangle her hair, disturbing the style, but she does not protest, her own hands seeming to attempt to map the contours of his face.
This extraneous contact fascinates me. Neither officer has indicated a desire to reproduce, nor are they simply removing their clothing and copulating, as the database indicated is sometimes done in pursuit of physical pleasure. I begin to wonder what kind of sensations kissing elicits, and if it is as pleasurable as it appears to be.
The endearments being exchanged are also intriguing. He informs her that she is the most physically attractive female in the known universe, and I find myself strangely disturbed by this statement. I know my physical proportions are closer to the established feminine ideal than the Lieutenant's...why would he find her more attractive?
Is it because I was Borg? I see Lieutenant Torres smile in response to this, and it comes naturally to her, without practice or deliberate effort. His hands lightly stimulate her epidermis over her abdomen, and she laughs. It is a pleasant sound, and I recall that the texts often cite a woman's "sense of humor" as an attractive quality.
I have not laughed or truly smiled since I was disconnected from the Collective.
I wonder if that's why no one likes me very much.
A strange sensation begins to build. I believe the database would consider it "jealosy". I wonder if I will ever be as well liked as other members of the crew. Ensign Paris in particular comes to mind.
His past is nearly as undesirable as my own, but he is a preferred social companion by most of the crew. I have been told that it is because he possesses great charm. He is also extremely attractive from a physical perspective.
Perhaps one day I too will be a desirable companion.
I watch them continue to interact, the sexual nature of their contact increasing as the outer garments of their uniforms are removed. A number of physical sensations begin to build in me. A difficulty breathing. An increase in heartrate. A flushing of the epidermis. A tightness of the throat. An excess of optical lubricant.
It is painful to see their happiness and not be able to share in it. I can almost feel the sensations, as though it were I and not Lieutenant Torres he loved. As though it were my lips he was tasting, my skin he was caressing, my heart that was beating in time with his, as though I was the one he was declairing affection towards. As though it were I that was desirable to him.
I shut my eyes, using my imagination. Naomi and the Doctor have taught me of it's usefulness, and now I employ it to put myself in the Lieutenant's place. I see the intensely blue pigmentation of his eyes looking at me, I feel his strong arms wrap around my body and hold me close, hear his soft tenor voice in my ear informing me that my presence pleases him...that he loves me.
But I know it is not true.
I know it can never be.
I am Borg.
No one loves Borg.
Resistance is futile.
I will always be a collective of one.