~~~~~~~~~~

Ezri adjusted the bag that hung from her right shoulder; glad of the tiny anti-gravity units Nog had affixed to the carryall. Without them, she was certain she would have abandoned the bag long before making planet fall. Of course, her orders allowed her to beam directly to Star Fleet Medical but she very much wanted to walk through the streets of San Francisco. A direct transport wouldn't have let her recover from the space sickness she felt whenever she traveled in deep space for long periods. And as far as she was concerned the four day trip from Deep Space 9 to Earth was entirely too long.

In the distance, Star Fleet Academy dominated its wedge of the bay. To her left she could see the bright lights that marked the beginning of the amazing warren of ethnic Earth restaurants that hadn't changed significantly in five hundred years, despite earthquakes, World War Three and a Breen attack. It wasn't Trill or the mining colony she'd grown up on, but it was as close to home as one could get and still be in different sector altogether.

Briefly, Ezri wondered what the city must have been like during its heyday and decided that it would have been pretty much the same as now: tolerant, busy and a step ahead. It was the tolerant nature of the city that she had fallen in love with as a cadet at the academy. San Francisco, as the home of the United Federation of Planets governing council and Star Fleet's major facilities, was more racially diverse than almost any other place in the Alpha quadrant. No one stood out in the city by the bay, and even those that did, would generally go unremarked upon in public, it was just that sort of town.

No one in San Francisco would look at her spots and ask if she was one of those Trill with the parasite, no one would ask about how weird it was to be yourself and a whole slew of other people all at the same time. Nope, in San Francisco, she wouldn't have to explain that Dax wasn't her surname, it was her symbiont - she wouldn't even have to explain what a symbiont was.

It took less than twenty minutes to make the trip from the public transport station to the park at the entrance to the Star Fleet complex. A tall woman was standing just inside the gates. It seemed to Ezri that she was unsure about something.

"Can I be of any help?" San Francisco was also a friendly city.

For a second it seemed her offer would either be ignored or rejected, then the woman turned slightly and nodded. "Your assistance would be appreciated."

Ezri smiled at the formality and moved a little closer, and waited for the blonde to continue.

"I am having difficulty locating the Federation Pro-consul's office."

That had Ezri stumped, she had no idea where it would be. She did however, know how to find out. "I'll show you the terminal, that'll be more help than me." Just outside of the massive iron gates that marked the boundary of the park, a data terminal was recessed unobtrusively into a stone pillar that was ringed with various plaques.

She led the way and accessed the local information section and input the requested destination. Within seconds the information, along with a map and transport coordinates appeared on the screen. It was easy to see why the woman hadn't been able to locate it on her own - the Pro-consul's office had been housed in one of the buildings destroyed by the Breen during the Dominion War - and was now located in the Inter-Planetary Agricultural Center.

"Third Floor of the IPAC building. It's more or less in the direction I'm headed if you'd like the company while you walk."

The blonde looked startled then smiled slightly or at least Ezri thought it was a smile. "That would be acceptable," there was a minute pause, "thank-you."

"My pleasure." Ezri wasn't sure which of Dax's previous hosts it was, but there was definitely an internal appreciative echo or two to the sentiment.

~~~

Seven stole a quick look at the woman walking next to her. She felt oddly at ease with the stranger. More oddly, the other woman appeared to be at ease with her, completely unconcerned that she escorted an ex-Drone through a secluded park. No hint of suspicion or fear.

Surmising that her companion was familiar with the city, she availed herself of the opportunity to ask questions, trying to obtain as much information as possible. So far the Federation had treated her with cautious respect, but Seven was uncomfortably aware that that could change at any moment and that any knowledge she was able to gain might prove useful sooner than expected.

Although aware that normal polite social conversation included the exchange of personal details, she opted not to ask her for her companion's designation or species, unwilling to alter the present interaction by having to reveal her own designation. Instead the conversation flowed around the flora in the park and the history of the city.

"Here we are."

Seven stopped, she noted that there was little to distinguish this building from any of the others they had passed, but refrained from questioning the veracity of the statement. She offered up what she hoped was a suitably pleasant smile. The muscles in her face contracted in the expected proportions, and her belief that she had performed the gesture correctly was confirmed when her escort smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem. You going to be able to find your way back okay?"

Retracing her steps would not be a problem. Then she recognized that the question was really an offer, and she carefully framed her response, glad of the hours she'd logged with her virtual-Voyager holo-program. "The layout of these grounds is inefficient, perhaps I would be in danger of becoming lost."

Warm eyes raked her from head to toe and Seven felt a minute rise in body temperature before her nanoprobes re-regulated the thermal gradient. She was also cognizant of a desire to swallow.

"Somehow, I can't envision you being in danger from anything."

Flirting. They were engaged in the ritual behaviour termed flirting. This time Seven did swallow. "Some dangers are more apparent than others." It wasn't Tom Paris quality repartee, but it was the best she could manage. "I have yet to ingest nutrition for this cycle, would you care to join me?"

"That depends. Do you plan for us to ingest nutrition in the messhall? Or are you going to take me to a real restaurant?"

For a moment, Seven was confused. Why would they go to an artificial eating establishment? Again, she recognized that the questions held more than what appeared on the surface. "I believe a real restaurant would be the only appropriate venue to convey my gratitude for your assistance."

"Then it’s a date." The brunette squeezed Seven's upper right biceps in gentle accompaniment to the words. "I'll wait for you over there."

"Acceptable." The light touch obliterated her hard won eloquence, but she couldn't spare the time to worry about it. The Federation Pro-consul awaited her and Seven was already five point three minutes late.

 ~~~

Ezri watched the retreating figure ascend the granite stairs, thoroughly mesmerized by the swaying of plum covered hips. A thousand questions flitted through her mind; she wanted to know everything about the enigmatic blonde. "Yeah right. You couldn't even muster up the courage to ask her name." To be fair, Ezri hadn't been asked for her own name, nor had she volunteered it, recognizing that perhaps there was a cultural imperative behind the interaction. Ezri had studied enough sociology and anthropology during her formal training to become a counselor that she wasn't going to push the alien woman, no matter how curious she was about the facial jewelry or unusual speech patterns.

Wandering over to a data terminal, she punched in her personal code, and keyed a request for a visual connection to her new department. She needed to report in, but it wasn't necessary to do it in person, and she might as well put the time to good use.

"This is Counselor Troi."

"Lieutenant Ezri Dax, Ma'am, I wanted to let you know I'd arrived." She still wasn't sure when to use her rank and when to use her title.

Troi seemed to be studying her longer than necessary, giving Ezri her own chance to examine the woman who had become a legend among Star Fleet counselors. Long brown hair fell in loose curls, framing a face that seemed more exotic than was normal for a half-human hybrid. Ezri had heard herself described as elfin, but she thought the description a better fit for Deanna Troi's ethereal beauty. Belatedly, she remembered that Troi and Worf had been involved, and she grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny, feeling that she was being weighed against impossible criteria. Unable to think of anyway to break the impasse, she shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

"Welcome to Earth, Ezri." The words came with a warm smile and Dax relaxed. "Thank you for accepting the secondment."

In truth, thanks were far from necessary. She'd been eager for the chance to treat something other than battle fatigue and grief, though she was aware that at least some of her new patients would exhibit these symptoms in addition to the main challenge of being repatriated into a very different Federation after an unparalleled absence.

Troi consulted a PADD. "I've already made your office assignment and uploaded the applicable personnel files along with the mission logs into your workstation. When you've given those a preliminary review, we can discuss them further."

"Sounds great."

"Good. I'll see you at 1000 hours tomorrow to get you oriented and go over some general details, along with Star Fleet Medical's overall concerns."

Staccato footsteps sounded and Ezri turned slightly to see her dinner companion approaching. She nodded at Deanna, her verbal response out before she could think about it. "Acceptable. Dax out." The screen flickered and went dark.

Ezri walked forward, instantly recognizing the change in the body language of the other woman. The blonde still carried herself with precision and controlled grace, but there seemed to be less tension than earlier. She must have gotten good news, decided Ezri.

"Shall we?"

"Indeed."

~~~

Seven examined the restaurant. Lacking any other benchmark, she compared it to Chez Sandrine's, finally deciding that the holo-deck simulation was a pale imitation of kind of opulent establishment now surrounding them. They were quickly seated, and she had learned enough about romantic protocol and settings from the Doctor to understand that the booth overlooking the city was considered a very good table.

Menus were placed before them. For an awful heartbeat, she was afraid to look at the menu, struck by the irrational fear that Lobster Thermidor would be the sole available choice.

"Would you care for drinks to start?" The waiter's tone was polite, the question directed at the table, rather than a person.

Her companion didn't speak; Seven interpreted that to mean that she was to make the selection. "Do you have a recommendation?" She was gratified to receive a nod of approval from the server.

"Are you interested in one of our more traditional Earth products, or would you prefer a more exotic choice?"

"Earth?" Seven raised implant above her left eye, aware that it was one of her more easily interpreted facial expressions, and waited to see if the brunette would concur with the selection.

"Earth works for me, sort of a when in Rome thing."

"Very well. How about a light white wine?" The words were a suggestion rather than a question.

"Acceptable."

The waiter indicated agreement and left.

Seven observed the woman across from her, taking careful note of exterior details. Short dark hair framed a pleasingly round face, whose features were lit by blue eyes that were a shade darker than her own. An intriguing and complex pattern of darker pigmentation ran past both ears, under the jaw line and disappeared into the collar of a white linen shirt. She found herself wondering how far down the pattern went, and if the pattern was generated randomly or if there was order beneath the apparent chaos. It was with great effort that she refrained from asking.

She did realize that an exchange of personal information was inevitable given the circumstances, but she did not fear it as much as she had earlier. The Pro-consul had done much to dispel some of her fear, assuring her that she was a Federation citizen and his office would ensure that her rights, along with Icheb's were upheld. She had also begun to realize that she was not immediately identifiable as a former member of the Borg collective. The media had not yet been allowed access to the returned crew of Voyager, and the crew manifest had been sealed pending notification of relatives and next of kin.

"I love this piece."

Seven cocked her head slightly, listening. "Variation Six, composer unknown."

Her companion flushed, then smiled. "Not many people recognize that piece. It was the only one Joran did that garnered any recognition. I'm not surprised that the composer is listed as unknown."

She had listened to the piece many times in the solitude of the Cargo Bay; it's complexities speaking to her. "The mathematics in the sub-harmonies are unique." Seven tried to find something less technical to say. "I appreciate its haunting nature."

"It is haunting."

The waiter returned and offered the cork to Seven. She opted to defer; unsure her palate was developed sufficiently to make the choice. To her olfactory senses it seemed cloying, but she was aware that she didn't appreciate the same combinations of flavours as other humanoids did.

Ordering proceeded smoothly and the conversation seemed to flow easily from music to art, esthetics, mathematics, and a particularly interesting discussion on commerce that stemmed from an anecdote about a Ferengi named Nog and the Great River. She was able to reciprocate with information about Neelix's unique methods of acquiring goods, and had been extremely gratified when it provoked a long bout of laughter that had also pulled her in, until she too thought she might begin leaking as a result.

At every turn she felt listened to, there had been no preconceptions about her thoughts, or assumptions that a topic would be of no interest, simply because she had been Borg.

She felt known.

All too quickly the meal seemed to be finished; few other patrons remained and Seven realized that they would soon have to leave. "I do not wish to leave." The words were out, her natural bluntness over ruling the tact she had been trying so hard to display, and she looked down, unwilling to see censure where seconds before there had been laughter.

Instead warm fingers traced a line along the mesh of her left hand, and Seven followed the fingers, hand, wrist and arm upward in succession, until their eyes met. An instant later, she reminded herself to breathe a peripheral part of her brain aware that her oxygen intake had dropped.

Time seemed to dilate, and the distance between them disappeared, then she was being kissed. Just as suddenly it was over, and words were being spoken against her lips, the slight vibrations from the sound waves tingled against her skin.

"Leaving could be fun."

Overloaded, Seven made the only reply she could. "I will comply."

~~~

Ezri wanted to jump up and down, run - anything to bleed off some of the nervous energy that coursed through her body. She had never reacted to someone as viscerally as she was to the blonde walking calmly next to her, and was afraid that too much exuberance might derail things for the wrong reasons. They had left the restaurant and neither had questioned their destination.

Unable to remember her room assignment for more than twenty seconds, she kept checking the small data padd tucked in the outside pocket of her carryall. Twice they had ridden the lift up to the correct floor, only to be too distracted to exit at the appropriate time.

Finally they stepped inside her assigned suite. Ezri steered them toward a door that opened off the main room, hoping that it led to the bedroom, though the bathroom would present its own interesting possibilities.

Guiding the blonde to the bed, she maneuvered her into a sitting position then did what she had been waiting most of the evening to do. She pulled out pins with one hand and used the other to tease apart the locks she was releasing, until the hair cascaded freely down around her lover's shoulders.

The simple act of undoing the bun seemed to soften the planes of pale cheekbones. One lock of hair tumbled past the silver arch highlighting one eye, while completely covering a starburst nestled below an ear. Tentatively, she traced the metal adornments, unsure if they were even sensitive, or if the touch would be painful instead of pleasurable as she intended. Ezri read surprise, then pleasure, her impressions validated when the blonde's neck arched slightly.

"You are so beautiful." She followed the words with a kiss, lowering her body until she was straddling the other woman, bringing their gazes almost level for the first time since the restaurant.

Warm metal grazed the spots on her right temple, before tracing her cheekbones and finally her lips. She flicked her tongue out and licked the tip of one finger, drawing it into her mouth before releasing it to capture another, enthralled by the low moan that got deeper with each digit kissed.

When she had tasted them all, Ezri went back to kissing the most perfect lips she'd ever seen, using one hand to hold the woman to her and the other to guide the hand she'd been kissing to the buttons on her shirt.

She wasn't surprised to hear one of the buttons hit the wall, and gave a delighted groan of her own as she pushed them over onto the mattress. They wiggled against each other and somehow managed to get themselves fully onto the bed.

Ezri tugged at the one-piece suit, unable to locate the catch. "Off now." Her eyes widened, impressed, as the mesh covered hand left the skin it had been exploring and ripped the plum-coloured material effortlessly. "My, but you're hard on clothes." She began trailing kisses down the newly exposed cleavage.

"It is an inefficient design."

"Sometimes visually pleasing is its own reward." It was a line from one of their earlier discussions and it got the expected smile, though this time it was coupled with what seemed to be a leer.

Lips found her right nipple, gently circling the small buds. "Indeed."

Delighted, Ezri laughed, then lost track of her thoughts as her lover's explorations shifted from her breasts to the sensitive spots that tracked next to them. "Kahless," she breathed.

The kisses stopped, and she looked down to find herself being regarded quizzically.

"I was unaware that Klingons had spots."

Ezri met the questioning blue eyes and decided that the statement was exactly what it seemed, curiosity devoid of judgement. She smiled. "Klingons don't, at least not normally, but Trill do."

"I am unfamiliar with that species."

The dry wit that she was rapidly falling for flashed again and Ezri laughed, then peeled her shirt off, exposing more of the spots. "I beg to differ, but perhaps you'd like to do a little more research."

"Acceptable."

The demonstration of intent that followed redefined the word for Ezri. Acting as a test subject was more than acceptable. Much more.

~~~

Seven continued to kiss her way down the slim body sprawled diagonally across the bed. Aware that the brown spots were a secondary sexual system, she avoided any contact with them, occasionally darting her tongue between the marks. The pigmentation had shifted hue, growing darker, matching the red-brown tones of now fully erect nipples. Exquisite.

With the same single minded attention to detail that she brought to everything she attempted, Seven was determined to unlock every secret, stimulate every nerve ending, taste every millimeter of skin, and coax more of the enthralling moans out of the woman whom she desired more than she had ever before desired anything.

"DaH! gHuh!"

The exact meaning of the words was unclear, but Seven understood the message. "Yes," she promised. She paused above the Trill's primary sex organ. Fine hair, almost feather like, tickled her chin and she took a few seconds to indulge in the sensation, then dipped her head slightly, pausing.

"kZngn. Quch. gHuh!"

One of the words was Klingon, the others remained a mystery, but again the message was clear. With her free hand, Seven grasped her hair and twisted it out of the way, then brought her lips across the fine down. She blew gently, following the warm air with motion of her tongue.

"Luq."

Seven took that as approval and continued to nibble and kiss the swollen nubs. The effect was instantaneous and electrifying.

"gHuh!"

Positions reversed and reversed again, until they came to rest, entangled in the sheets and each other. Slowly, her splintered senses regained cohesion. Her eyes felt heavy, and Seven realized that she was close to falling asleep, but was unsure how to complete the process.

She replayed the evening, wondering at the astounding turn of events and the unexpected discoveries. Sleep was irrelevant. The thought made her smile, and she listened to the regular breathing of the woman next to her. Clearly sleep was not totally irrelevant.

From the first kiss in the nearly deserted restaurant, Seven had known that whatever followed, no matter how familiar, would be completely new. No amount of research, holographic or otherwise, could ever have been sufficient preparation for what had happened - was happening. And right from the first kiss she had known that she wanted to pursue everything it had promised. She smiled, recalling Neelix's attempts to guide her through the dating process. She supposed he would teasingly accuse her of being 'easy.'

Her programming had been flawed, Seven knew that now. The complex fears and insecurities that haunted her daily had migrated from her sub-conscious into the holo-matrices. She had believed herself marred, so others believed it too, and treated her accordingly. Not even the characters in her own holo-fantasies had touched her in places she'd been touched tonight.

She had been afraid at first, apprehensive that the broad metal bands that swathed her abdomen would provoke disgust - or worse - indifference. They hadn't, and they had both learned what she had only suspected; that the implants generated sensations of their own. Flatter than her biological nerves in places, sharper and more intense in others, but never numb or painful.

Still unable to sleep, Seven continued to analyze the last few hours, needing to catalogue as much of the experience as she could before losing the feelings to the efficient storage of her eidetic memory. She would forever be able to recall every second of what had transpired between them, but mere images were not sufficient. Seven wanted to keep the feelings. She wanted to be able to hold on to the rising tide of tenderness that swept through her even now as she traced the place on her lover's back where the twin trails of spots converged, then parted. Wanted to hold the surprising surge of joy as the Trill had convulsed under her; wanted to spin out the immeasurable instant just before she had climaxed for the first time, under a touch that was not her own, and that was real, not holographic.

She had discovered that she liked making love; liked being made love to, she discovered that pleasure was not irrelevant.

Now, though, she was out of time, she needed to return to her own quarters and regenerate before continuing the seemingly never ending debriefing process. Entering the ensuite, Seven discovered that the replicator was programmed only for Star Fleet issue apparel, and would not replace the torn bio-suit. Annoyed, she contemplated her options before replicating simple pair of black uniform trousers and a gray tank top. As an afterthought, she requested the appropriate undergarments and footwear.

Finished dressing, Seven surveyed her appearance. The clothes were more comfortable than her normal outfits and there was another brief flash of annoyance, as she wondered why such items had not been presented to her aboard Voyager. Especially the footwear.

She left her hair down.

Moving silently, she re-entered the sleeping area, part of her wanted to wake the still slumbering woman, but logically, there was no reason for them both to be awake. Seven noticed a crumpled white bundle on the floor and picked it up, intending to put it neatly on the end of the bed. It was a shirt. Three buttons were missing and it was too short in the arms, but Seven wore it anyway, an illogical talisman against the world she was returning to.

She placed a PADD on the pillow where only minutes before her head had rested, and left.

~~~

Ezri entered her office. "Lights on full." She quickly located a PADD and headed back out of the room. If she hurried, she wouldn't be more than five minutes late for her meeting with Deanna Troi. She'd meant to get here early and look over Voyager's personnel records, but it hadn't worked out that way.

She smiled, remembering the panic that had set in when she'd woken up and realized that she hadn't set an alarm. Then she had remembered why the alarm hadn't been set. A message on a PADD left in the bed confirmed that the evening hadn't been a fantasy.

It was with a great deal of effort that she returned her attention to the upcoming meeting. Her mind wanted to luxuriate in images from last night; in the sensation of long blonde hair trailing up her thighs; in the pleasant ache of her muscles. Fortunately, Troi's office wasn't far from her own. Ezri stopped in front of the room, double-checked her uniform, and took a deep breath, then pressed the admittance chime. Her presence was acknowledged, and then permission to enter was signaled. Unaccountably nervous, she entered.

The familiar features of Deanna Troi smiled and she pointed at one of the empty chairs grouped around a polished round table. "Good morning."

"Good morning. I'm sorry that I'm late." Her tardiness hadn't been commented on, but that didn't mean it had gone unnoticed, so she deemed it best to apologize. Ezri seated herself and waited for the introductions to begin. Commander Troi she knew. The admiral next to Troi was familiar, but Ezri couldn't put a name to the elegant woman, unsure if her knowledge was personal, from Dax or even from one of the other previous hosts.

The issue was resolved when Troi supplied a name to go with the rank. "Admiral Kate Pulaski is the Star Fleet Medical Officer overseeing the treatment plan for Voyager's crew."

"Admiral." There was a flash of humour in the woman's eyes and Ezri flushed under the knowing gaze. Pulaski and Curzon had known each other well. Very well.

"Dax."

Mercifully, the last person in the room was completely unknown to her. Lieutenant-Commander Vennara, like Deanna Troi was a Betazed, and the sole male member of their group. Like Pulaski, he nodded politely. "Dax."

"Please, call me Ezri." She smiled and hoped that he didn't pick up any of the tension under her request. Being called Dax constantly undermined her sense of self, and she wanted to hang on to who Ezri was. In that instant, she became uncomfortably aware that she had probably been given the assignment solely because of the unique knowledge and experience afforded her as Dax's host.

Once more she thought of the beautiful blonde she'd spent the evening with, warmed by the realization that while Dax and the others made her who was, her success relating to the other woman hadn't been due to them. Buoyed, she returned her attention to the meeting and focused on the image of the auburn haired woman currently on the view screen.

She paid attention to the information about Captain Kathryn Janeway, aware from a brief glance at her caseload that Deanna would be treating the Captain, but equally cognizant of the adage, 'as the captain goes - so goes the ship'. If Janeway had acted as matriarch, then as first officer, Chakotay was the patriarch. The first officer was going to be a patient of Vennara's - apparently matched because of spiritual issues and not gender.

Ezri was surprised to be assigned a Vulcan, but listened attentively to an over view of Tuvok's file. His was a priority case, and there were indications that he, more than most of the crew, would have some difficulty integrating his experiences in the Delta Quadrant with what would be expected from him now that he had returned home. She made a few notes and flagged the mission logs for Stardates 49655.2 and 54090.4.

She listened to the next case with interest, though neither Paris nor Torres was on her caseload. Deanna would treat the chief engineer and Vennara had been assigned the helmsman. Ezri thought that Paris would be an interesting case study. Paris presented as a man with Peter Pan syndrome who had actually grown up along the way home. Or maybe she just had a soft spot for test pilots.

She made a few more notes and looked back up, completely unprepared for the sight that greeted her. Oblivious to her consternation, Pulaski continued the briefing.

"Seven of Nine, formerly Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, severed from the Collective Stardate 51003.7."

All Ezri could think at that moment was that the image on the screen didn't do justice to the woman she had met last night. And there was no doubt in her mind, that the woman, with whom she had spent the night, was the same woman whose image now graced the screen in front of her. No doubt at all.

"Seven is a special case."

"Seven?" Ezri asked. The name seemed too harsh and yet was fitting, all at the same time.

Pulaski gave Ezri what could only be termed a wry grin. "Her preferred designation. She was born Annika Hansen on the Tendara Colony, Stardate 25479."

Ezri had an inkling of what had prompted yesterday's visit to the Pro-consul's office. The Pro-consul handled citizenship among other things. It also became clear why she had been assigned to the team. She was expected to treat Seven.

"She's your patient Ezri, but both Deanna and myself will be available as support." Pulaski confirmed her hunch.

Ezri's eyes were drawn back to the picture on the screen. Seven of Nine's expression was guarded, her facial muscles tense, eyes devoid of warmth and she was standing fully erect, hands behind her back. Her heart went out to the young woman and Ezri closed her eyes momentarily, before gathering her thoughts. "I have to withdraw from this case."

"What? Are you refusing to treat her because she's Borg? I would have thought that you - of all people would be willing to help her." Pulaski had turned from the screen and was staring at her, voiced raised angrily.

There was a brief flash of her own anger at Pulaski's assumption, but she reigned it in, choosing to face Deanna instead of the now pacing Admiral. "Trust me, recusancy is the appropriate action in this instance."

Troi seemed to pick up at least some of her non-verbal message because she turned to the other occupants of the room and asked Vennara and Pulaski to leave.

After they had gone, Deanna looked at her expectantly. "Why?"

"Would you settle for it's personal?"

"Only if that meant it wasn't based on prejudice or fear."

Ezri laughed, then blushed and shook her head. "Neither of those things."

"Well then, I'll have to rearrange the caseloads a bit. What I want to know is, why you didn't mention that you had a personal relationship with a member of Voyager's crew earlier?"

Ezri didn't want to admit she that hadn't known. She didn't think Deanna would understand the unique intimacy that she had felt with Seven, an intimacy that had developed despite not knowing each other's names. Or maybe because of it.

That was a sobering thought. How would she have reacted if she had known who Seven was? Would she have responded on the same instinctual level? Ezri decided that it didn't matter. They had connected and that was all that was important. Whether or not the relationship survived beyond a one-night stand would be up to them.

"To be honest, I didn't know she was from Voyager. And believe it or not, the subject never came up."

Deanna laughed, then shook her head. "I don't have any trouble believing that."

And that was that. The meeting resumed with a minimum of fuss, though the wrangling over exchanging cases took a little longer than she had expected. Finally she and Deanna came to an arrangement that Pulaski was willing to sign off on. Ezri couldn't tell if Pulaski was looking at her in awe or with pity, and finally decided, having heard a little more about Seven, that it was probably a mix of the two.

"Right. That's it then. Let's make these case conferences weekly to start, we'll set a time later in the week. Good luck."

Pulaski's words were directed at everyone, but Ezri got the distinct impression they were meant for her.

~~~

Seven waited until precisely 1400 hours then rang the admittance chime. The tone signaled enter and she stepped forward into the counselor's office. Uncertain of what to expect, she was aware that she was feeling apprehensive.

Her apprehension gave way immediately to surprise.

Behind the large black polished desk sat the woman with who she had spent the previous night.

"Hello, Seven." The woman stood and moved out from behind the desk. "I don't suppose there's anything you'd like to tell me?"

She stiffened before she realized that the brunette was smiling, then made an effort to relax her posture, suddenly understanding why liquid refreshments were the first step in most social encounters. The distraction would have been welcome. She decided to try humour. "Resistance is futile?"

It worked. "Umm, I bet that's an understatement where you're concerned."

"Indeed," she replied, concurring with the assessment. They were only inches apart now, and Seven noted that the difference in their heights was not as great as it had been last night. An artifact of her change in footwear perhaps. She gave a smile of her own, wondering what came next.

"Ezri."

The word was breathed into the small space of air that still separated them and Seven felt the whisper as it brushed across her skin.

"My name is Ezri." Her chin was tilted upward, body language conveying a request and permission simultaneously.

Obligingly, Seven lowered her head and brushed her lips across Ezri's, murmuring the new syllables, wanting to deepen the kiss, but still unsure of what was happening. They parted after a moment, but didn't quite separate, one of Ezri's hands remained on her waist. "State your intentions."

Ezri laughed again and Seven discovered that she enjoyed provoking that response from the Trill. "Right now, I'm going to introduce you to your new counselor, since I can't be both your counselor and your lover. Later, well that's up to you."

"You wish to continue our relationship?" Her stomach tightened, surprising her. Seven noticed that her mouth had become dry, and her respiration was also affected.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Ezri stepped back, and tilted Seven's chin downward, forcing her to look the Trill in the eyes. "Let me ask you this. Did you research the Trill today?"

"Yes." It had been one of the first things she'd done upon completing her regeneration cycle. She'd even tried to discover her lover's identity by correlating the records but she didn't have the necessary access.

"And you now know what a joined Trill is?"

"Yes."

"And you still want me, symbiont and all?"

"Yes." She stepped forward slightly and brought their lips into contact again to prove it.

"Then I think you've answered your own question."

"We are unique." Each of them had the knowledge of lifetimes, none of it their own, yet all of it theirs. Symbiont and nanoprobes. Duality magnified.

This time when their mouths met, the tentative touches of the last few moments were burned away in a new rush of passion, and a new intimacy was formed, born on the strength of knowledge. Fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer and Seven was glad that she had left it down.

Reluctantly they broke apart, exchanging several smaller kisses before stopping completely.

"So. Want to hear who I got in trade for you?"

Seven raised her eyebrow, aware that she was being teased. "I was unaware that the Ferengi Commerce Authority had established a galactic exchange rate for severed drones."

"Apparently an ex-drone is worth a Klingon, a Bolian and a set of twins."

"I see. And precisely how was the exchange rate determined?"

"That would be covered under doctor patient privilege. Though I'm sure you can extrapolate some of the factors."

Seven began to laugh, part of her wondering if Ezri understood why she was laughing; and then decided it didn't matter, it seemed that there would be opportunity to explain. She let her first real laugh carry her, not resisting the underlying emotion. When it had subsided, she wrapped her arms around Ezri and hugged her. "Thank you."

The hug was returned, then Ezri turned slightly, partially disengaging, and guided them towards the door. "You're welcome, but if you really wanted to express your gratitude, you and my shirt could join me for dinner tonight."

"Acceptable." A kiss sealed the arrangement.

End

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