Title: "Dinner" Author: Rob Vrablik Contains: K/7, Humor Timeline: Sequel to "Breakfast", and contains a reference to "Deaths of Harry" (Both stories by the author). Otherwise, sometime in season six. Spoilers: Many references to events in Voyager episode "Someone To Watch Over Me" Archive: RIF, ACS, BLTS, others by request Disclaimers: Paramount owns the characters, and I'm sure disowns the rest. I claim copyright to anything not theirs. Author's notes: You might want to read breakfast first, but don't have to (You might miss a couple jokes). This is in response to a challenge Lesa gave me a while back that she'd love to see Seven put together a date for Harry for a change, instead of him always having to do for her. It also gave me a chance to try writing romance. It was fun, but I'll be honest, it almost killed me. I think I need to go blow a few things up, or torture Harry a bit more. Enjoy. Many thanks to Lesa for Beta reading, ideas, and continually challenging me. * * * Harry dove to the right, firing as he went down. He was being driven beyond his limits, and it showed. He couldn't get enough air, and his muscles were screaming for relief. He quickly dragged himself back up and got moving again, raising his phaser as he went. Reacting to the responding fire, he snapped off a few quick shots, dodged, then dove again. He rolled once and fired off a shot prone. He started to get up, but exhaustion had finally caught up with him, and this time he was slow. Stationary targets are easy, and he was hit almost immediately. The impact rolled him over with a grunt. He lay there on his back for a moment, waiting for the inevitable pain to hit. When he opened his eyes, Seven of Nine was over him. Seven looked down at him, her raised eyebrow indicating slight amusement. "Ensign Kim. Do you require assistance?" Harry closed his eyes again. He just lay there for a moment, then looked up at Seven again, and wondered if getting pummeled by Chakotay in the boxing ring would be easier than playing velocity with Seven. He took her extended hand. "I'm not dead yet, Seven." He got up and back in position for the next round. "I think I'm figuring out your game," he wheezed out as the velocity disk floated up to the starting position. Seven got into position with an amused, skeptical look, and muttered "Resistance is futile." Harry smiled, took a deep breath, raised his phaser, and fired. * * * Harry headed toward the exit of the holodeck. He tried to keep from flinching too much as the various bruises and pains reminded him of how much he was outmatched by Seven. He tried to remember why he did this to himself. Ahead of him, Seven was moving at her standard pace, barely looking like she'd broken a sweat. Of course, looking at Seven reminded himof why he did this to himself. The sight of her still grabbed him at times. Over time, he'd gotten good at covering his occasional reaction to her. Until recently Tom hadn't even noticed most of the time, and he'd thought B'Elanna wondered if he was even still interested. But no matter how much he had tried to convince himself to move on completely, he had known he wouldn't have been able to do it until he had found someone else. And even though he had been in some brief relationships, he had kept on NOT finding that someone else. Well, he was still interested, and now he'd finally gotten his chance. Her misguided attempt to get help with raising the kids had resulted in him finally getting a date with her. And though it had sort of come about for the wrong reasons, he wasn't going to let it pass by. If Seven didn't want to pursue it, she'd let him know. He wasn't going to pass this time around. Though, as a few aches and pains reminded him of their recent activities, he'd better find some better way than a velocity game next time, or he might end up dead. Turning to go, Seven said "Ensign Kim, thank you for the velocity games. I have enjoyed the exercise, and our date. It was stimulating." "Seven, hold on." She turned back, surprise lined with humor, "Ensign Kim, though obviously exhausted, you requested a third game, and lost it, only earning a single point". She raised her eyebrow that little bit again. "Surely you can't be requesting a fourth?" Seven's equivalent of a smile had the standard effect on Harry. OK, so maybe it was worth it. What's a few (ouch) bumps and bruises? It was funny, most people didn't think she showed emotions, but if you knew her, she did. You just had to know what to look for. It was amazing how much she showed with just her eyebrows. And her eyes. Her eyes were where you could tell what she was thinking, how she felt moment to moment. They would light up when she was entertained. Sometimes you could also get a clue to her mood from her stride. It was always purposeful, but what she was thinking would alter it a bit. How stiffly she walked was a barometer to how she felt. But if you really wanted to know what she was thinking, you had to go with her eyes. "No Seven, " cringing at a pain, "I think I'm done. I just wanted to find out when we could get together again." Seven thought for a moment, "I have more Holodeck time reserved two evenings from now. We could play a few more rounds of velocity then." Harry, eager to remain physically functioning, and needing time to recover, quickly tried to steer her away from another velocity game so soon. "Uh, how about we try something else." Thinking quickly, "We've been on a couple of these trial dates. How about something without a game involved. Maybe dinner?" Harry watched as Seven immediately tensed up. She didn't show it much, but he'd learned what to look for. He'd thought some of her dating aversion had dissipated, but obviously not completely. He did some quick backpedaling, "Hey, you can be in charge. It doesn't have to be dinner. You can pick what you want to do." Harry watched as she relaxed a bit. It was like a reduction from frozen in panic to cowering in fear, but it was still an improvement. Seven considered. Harry was proposing a real date. They had just completed their second, but these had been simple social interactions, similar to others she'd had with other members of the crew. Harry had done that to allow her more comfort with dating. And it had worked. She had enjoyed these 'dates'. But now he was proposing more: an official date, possibly dinner. She briefly remembered her last dinner date. She was still slightly uncomfortable on those occasions when she had to interact with Lieutenant Chapman. His arm had healed well, though he had never requested her presence on another date. Not that she would have desired to attend. Once had been sufficient. But then Chapman had been in control. He had lead that evening, and she had not known what to expect or how to react. She had not been able to prepare. An evening, dinner, where she was able to choose the venue, fare, and activities would significantly reduce the incomprehensibility of the proceedings. She hesitated, then accepted Harry's offer, "That will be acceptable." Harry sighed with relief. He didn't think he could have taken another physical contest and survived. "Great. Have any ideas?" Seven thought for a moment, "Not yet. I will need time to consider." "OK. Find me and let me know when you know what we're doing." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then leaned in and gave Harry a quick peck of a kiss. "Thank you. I have enjoyed myself. Good day." She turned and left. Harry smiled as he watched Seven walk away down the corridor. She was trying. It wasn't exactly the most heart felt kiss he'd ever received, but she was trying, going through the motions of dating protocol as she understood them. It didn't really matter if she didn't know how to kiss yet. But if she were trying, maybe they'd have a chance to work on that when she was more comfortable. Harry started whistling, and turned to walk back to his quarters, when the movement shot another set of pains through him. The whistling quickly turned into a groan. Maybe he'd better swing by sick bay and pick up something for his muscles after he showered. * * * Seven thought about what to do as she returned to cargo bay two. She was uncomfortable about the date, but she also wanted Harry to enjoy himself. She could consider activities Harry liked, and choose one of those. Music was a possibility. Harry played the clarinet, and she sang. They could listen to something, but that would not be a date where they would be actively engaged a majority of the time. Also, there would be the chance that her selection of music style and piece would not be to Harry's liking. She had discovered that musical tastes varied widely, and even within a doctrine of music, weather someone liked or disliked a particular piece of music was unpredictable. The other possibility was performing something together, but she was still uncomfortable performing in front of others. She had also begun to grow tired of her singing sessions with the Doctor, and even more so of opera. No, music was not an acceptable choice. Alternative reality simulations were a possibility. Harry apparently gained much pleasure from the Captain Proton simulations he shared with Ensign Paris. She had even participated in one simulation. However, she soon discovered she could not understand why they gained pleasure from such logic-less, juvenile simulations. She had assumed that by participating, she would gain insight, but after trying one, understood it even less. She had later learned that many others in the crew, B'Elanna included, also had no understanding of why the simulations were pleasurable for the two of them. Since others with more human interactive experience than herself could not fathom these simulations, she decided she had little chance to comprehend them, so she should avoid this option. That left the option of dinner. She needed to plan events so nothing unexpected would occur. To accomplish this, she would need to be familiar with the venue, activity, and surroundings. That left two possibilities. The first was the mess hall, but that was not acceptable. Aside from that being the location of their first date, Harry had obviously intended they try for dinner in a more romantic environment. That left only the second possibility, one that she had reviewed repeatedly, and was therefore very familiar with: Her date with Lieutenant Chapman in Sandrine's. Though her memories of that evening had made her uncomfortable while visiting Sandrine's on one of Ensign Paris's open party nights, her date with Chapman would make the perfect template for an evening with Harry. She had extensively reviewed her evening with Chapman after that first date had gone so badly, and had learned from the Doctor of other errors she had made. She could simply alter any parameters of the simulation that had contributed to the mishaps, and the remaining errors could easily be avoided since she was planning the events of the evening. Having arrived at a plan of action, Seven requested Harry's location from the computer. He had asked that she come tell him when she knew what they were doing. She was not sure why he required the information in person, but determined that since she did not completely fathom human dating rituals and all their nuances, that it would be best to follow any instructions she was given, to avoid mistakes and misunderstandings. It would also be considerate of her to let Harry know now so he would have as much time to prepare as she would. When the computer reported he was in his quarters, she changed direction to proceed there. Seven strode on with new confidence. Yes, this would go well. * * * Seven reached Harry's quarters and announced her presence. She received no answer, and so asked the computer if he was still inside. Hearing music through the door, the computer's answer confirmed her suspicion that he was. Seven asked if there was a privacy seal placed on the door, and the computer indicated there was not. Assuming Harry would wish to hear the information about their impending date, Seven decided to avoid delay by entering, assuming that the reason he had not answered the hail was because the music was interfering with his ability to hear it. She commanded the computer to open the door to Harry's quarters. The music immediately became significantly louder, reinforcing her belief that he had not heard her hail. She entered, and the door closed behind her. She looked around his quarters, and though there was evidence of his presence, such as his discarded exercise clothing, he was not in the main chamber. Listening, she heard vocalizations the doctor had once classified as humming coming from the bathroom adjoining the chamber. Recognizing them as Harry's vocal tones, she proceeded to the entrance. As she entered the doorway, she was reminded of the list of requirements she had created for a potential mate. She had listed Harry, among other things, as possessing a physical demeanor that was attractive, that he was considered by some of the female crew to have a 'cute butt', and that for a variety of reasons he had a high probability of being a pleasing sexual partner. However, these judgments had been made under limiting circumstances: Seven had never seen Harry without clothing. She now found herself in a position to potentially revise these previous judgments. He did possess what would be considered a pleasing physique, well proportioned and in good to excellent physical shape. His shoulders and arms were well muscled, and flexed in an intriguing manner as he showered, facing away from her. His back was well defined, strong, and tapered down to a shallow curve at the lower end of the spine, creating a small depression above a gluteus maximus well free of fatty deposits. Though Seven did not consider the use of 'cute' appropriate, she did have to concede that the intent of the description was correct: he did possess a well-shaped posterior. After considering for a moment, she decided that her existing descriptions would need some modification. Describing Harry as possessing a 'pleasing' physique would somehow be more appropriate. Irritated at finding herself distracted from her purpose, Seven straightened, and addressed Harry. * * * Harry was standing, eyes closed, in the sonic shower after his workout. He had chosen a selection he had recently discovered in the music database, a new rendition of one of his favorite pieces, containing a freer interpretation of the melodic line, and using a few non traditional instrumental sounds. It was interesting, and listening to it while taking the shower was helping to ease the tension and aches from his velocity game with Seven. He was actually beginning to relax. "Ensign Kim, I have the information regarding our next date, as you requested." "Jeeze...!" Harry spun around in shock at the voice from behind him, opening his eyes as he went. The disorientation of turning while transitioning from the music to his surroundings caused him to lose his balance, and he banged his shoulder into a protrusion in the shower. Harry swore at the pain, and began the impossible task of trying to, all at the same time, grab the sharp pain in his shoulder, scrunch down and cover himself, and reach for a towel. Since he only had two hands, and one was momentarily out of commission, the only task that was reasonably accomplished was grabbing his shoulder. Upon viewing him from the front, Seven mentally added another item to the list of reasons why Harry could be a potentially pleasing sexual partner. After a grunt of pain and a few hops, Harry succeeded in quickly re-assessing his priorities, and reached out with his second hand and grabbed a towel to cover himself. After another momentary exclamation of pain, he looked up and exclaimed, "Seven! What are you doing here?" Seven had stood unfazed at Harry's display, and once he seemed to have gotten himself under control, she responded, "I apologize if my unexpected presence startled you. I am here to inform you of my decision regarding our next date, as you requested." Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed himself. He was getting good at doing this. Calming himself, that is. "Um, but why are you here, now?" "I do not understand. You specifically requested that I find you and give you my decision when I had arrived at a plan regarding our next date. Having just made my decision, I proceeded here, and finding your quarters unlocked, entered to so inform you. Was this wrong?" Harry paused, realizing that what he had said off the cuff had been taken literally. He quickly decided that trying to explain now would cause more problems than it would solve. And would extend her stay. So he covered instead, after blowing out another breath. "No...., everything's fine, you just startled me. I wasn't exactly expecting you." "Very well. Then, regarding our date, we will be having dinner as you originally suggested. Appropriate dress will be semi formal attire." Seven's eyebrow raised as she briefly glanced at his towel, and a touch of humor entered her voice as she referred to the 'rules of dating' that Harry had created, "Though please remember to remain comfortable." Harry paused for a moment, and Seven heard in his response the humor she had come to appreciate from him, instead of the tension that had been there since she had come in, "You mean rule number four, 'Be physically comfortable'?" She was pleased that her attempt to defuse his tension had been successful. "Of course. When have you ever known me to stray from a known set of guiding parameters?" Seven felt an odd warmth suffuse her as she heard a small laugh from Harry before he answered, though for some reason shaking his head, "Never. Well, never one you appeared to be aware of. Remind me next time we are making up some new rules to review one or two existing ones with you." "I will be glad to aid you in completing them. Tomorrow night then." Sensing Harry had successfully recovered from whatever had troubled him when she entered, Seven turned and exited. After Seven left, Harry sagged against the wall, eyes closed, took another deep breath, and slowly let it out. So much for relaxing after their date. If this kept up, he figured he was going to need to get some new meditation techniques from Tuvok, though he doubted even the Vulcan had anything that could counter events like this. Dating Seven was, to use one of her own phrases, 'stimulating'. Harry shook himself and turned back to the shower to finish up. He had the computer resume the music, though at a significantly lower level. He also had it lock the door. As he removed his towel, he thought it funny that, while he had been thrown by Seven's sudden appearance and by his own modesty, Seven had seemed completely unbothered by his nudity. They were so different in how they reacted to different social situations. Thinking back, he didn't think she'd shown any reaction to his appearance. He considered for a moment, and began to think about what he remembered from when he'd spun around. He obviously hadn't been paying close attention, but he suddenly had the brief impression that Seven's eyes may have been moving up from below as he'd spun around, and had again glanced down before he had gotten himself covered up. She couldn't have been checking out.....? Harry smiled, shook his head, and rejected the idea as ridiculous. If it had been anyone else, he might have considered the possibility, but this was Seven. He continued his shower. * * * The evening of their date, Seven sat in Sandrine's awaiting Harry's arrival. He would be here in 4.3 minutes if he was keeping to schedule. She had endeavored to make sure this evening went well. Harry had made sure her first date with him had been comfortable for her, so it was important that she do the same for him. She had gone to great lengths ensure the evening was a success. She had reviewed her evening with Lieutenant Chapman, and changed or deleted each aspect that was not to her liking. The meal had been changed to something less obscure. The servitors would be attentive and not need to be summoned. The musical selections had been altered, and dance steps researched. Mostly, however, she was planning to be adaptive. The Doctor had once told her that she needed to be more flexible in social situations, to 'go with the flow,' whatever that had meant. She had therefore endeavored to be flexible, and after much research on dinner conversation, had planned on three possible itineraries for dinner, one consuming 21 minutes, the second 32, and the third 44. The first was a minimal discussion plan, where she would carry most of the conversation, and Harry merely listened most of the time. If he were fairly interactive, the second time period would be applied, where they would share in the conversation while eating. This would also be appropriate if she needed to accelerate the evening for any reason. Harry would supply much of the dialogue while she ate, and she would add appropriate, but more minimal responses. The third timeline allowed for stoppages in food consumption if conversation was proceeding exceptionally well. In addition to these main timelines, she had accounted for 13 major contingencies, 17 minor ones, and 32 sub contingencies. She had also prepared and reviewed 14 primary and 28 secondary topics for discussion. She felt that such detailed planning would meet even the Doctor's criteria for being flexible, and thus insure success. She could find no aspect of the evening that she had not covered, controlled, or otherwise anticipated. She could not, therefore, understand why she was still somewhat anxious. Filling the remaining minute or two until Harry arrived, she reconsidered one of the items she had not been quite sure how to select: Her attire. She had known she did not want to wear the dress she had worn for Lieutenant Chapman. But how to select a new garment had been a difficulty. She had eliminated all selections that were not appropriate for a semi formal dinner, selecting those classified as eveningwear. Beyond this she had not been able to determine which design to use. She had momentarily considered consulting the Doctor on the choice, but had rejected that option. She wanted to prepare the evening herself, and did not want to involve the Doctor's meddling. Instead, she had scanned the database, viewing representations, until she reached one that reminded her of what she had worn for Harry to Ensign Paris's beach party. It was long, flowing, black, and displayed her shape, which she knew to be attractive to Harry. And, like the outfit B'Elanna had previously selected for her, was partially slit up the leg, and backless. This had caught her attention, as it would allow her to sense his hand on her back while dancing. Obviously this would be advantageous for following his lead. Harry entered Sandrine's. He was dressed in a formal shirt, no collar, the fasteners hidden so as not to distract from his form. His slacks were tan, smooth, and accented his movements. She noted that his clothing was loose enough to be comfortable, but not too loose as to disguise his physique. She approved. She stood to greet him. "Good evening, Ensign." Harry stopped as he took her in. Seven could tell from his physical demeanor and pupil dilation, as well as his breathing, that her attire was appreciated. This somehow pleased her, and while some of her initial anxiety was relieved, another tension, one she was unfamiliar with, arose. "Seven, I don't think I've ever seen you this...."ing paused, lost for words, and then began again, appreciation in his voice. "You look beautiful this evening." The internal tension built a bit more, and she smiled slightly. Part of her found it intriguing that she meant it when she made the appropriate reply, "Thank you. You are also very attractive this evening." Seven offered her arm to Harry, "Would you like to sit down?" Harry didn't miss a beat, realizing Seven was probably following what she understood, correctly, to be proper protocol, and took her arm. It didn't really matter that she'd gotten the male/female roles reversed. He allowed himself to be lead to their table and seated. Seven sat, and signaled the waiter. Their dinners were immediately delivered to the table. Harry, surprised at the sudden delivery, commented, "That was quick. I'm not used to Sandrine's being that fast with the food." "Yes, I have altered a few parameters of Ensign Paris's original programming. I have noted that the initial conversation between arrival and dinner can be strained, and so have eliminated that portion of time to enhance our evening's experience." Harry had to smile at Seven's response to a problem. If something doesn't work well, remove it. He'd have to keep it in mind in case he started to not work well in her eyes.... As they began the meal, Seven asked him a question. Harry thought a moment, and responded. Soon they were discussing back and forth easily, comfortably. Harry noted after a while that Seven was not just occasionally engaging him in light talk, but was keeping up a conversation. He realized that she was bringing up interesting topics, adding to what he was saying, and asking questions on the same subject. After a while, she would listen for a while, eating a little something, and if there was a pause, bring up another subject. Frankly, he'd been a bit surprised at how, well, interactive she was. It was almost scary. And then he started to catch on. Everything was following a patternhat he discussion on each topic she brought up would follow approximately the same progression: Initial topic discussion, expansion of a few sub topics, then a wrapping up of any loose ends. Then it would start again on a new topic. Harry experimented slightly by beginning to branch off topic with one of his responses. As he had begun to suspect she would, Seven steered the discussion right back on topic. Harry smiled. She had prepped herself so she could carry on what she often referred to as 'irrelevant discussions'. Harry suddenly suspected she had even created a list of possible topics ahead of time. He didn't mind that it wasn't spontaneous; he was pleased she'd done all this just for him. She was trying to make sure he enjoyed himself. How could you complain about that? He settled in and allowed her lead him though his date. Seven noted his smile, out of place in the current topic of discussion. "Ensign Kim, is there something I have said that is humorous?" Harry looked at Seven, and smiling broadly, replied, "No, Seven, I just find I am enjoying myself, immensely. Thank you." Seven noted in herself a physical reaction to Harry's smile. Her epidermal surface temperature raised slightly, her breathing constricted briefly, and her heart rate increased by 18%. From her research, she believed the term commonly used was 'flushed'. She found it difficult to comprehend how she could be affected in such a manner. While attempting to overcome the reaction, she made the appropriate response to Harry's smile, returning a small one of her own, and proceeded with their conversation. Things continued well. The current conversation was tracking as she had expected. Harry appeared from all external signs to be enjoying himself. He continued to engage in conversation. He smiled often, as he was doing now. She noted he had an intriguing smile. It lit up his features. Instead of observing it on his lips, she would notice his eyes first. They somehow came alight. Such smiles continued to cause her the same physical reaction the previous one had. She began to cover the reaction by giving the appropriate return smile, then concentrating on her food for a few moments until the reaction had receded. Seven attempted to concentrate on the conversation, but found that since she had reviewed the material in depth before hand, it was not commanding her full attention. She would be entertaining a discourse on bi-modal warp field theory when she would find herself watching his hands cut his food as she continued to speak. He would then answer, and she would, appropriately, be listening and working on consuming her own food, but her attention was still on his hands as they picked up the knife, sliced off a portion, and held the fork as it moved to his mouth. Irritated by her inability to control these human reactions, she decided to overcome the difficulty by accelerating from the longest dinner period plan to the next shorter. She did not want to end the evening early, but decided she needed to compensate for her distraction, and thus avoid any possible mistakes resulting from it. The meal proceeded without incident. * * * As Dessert finished, Seven nodded to the piano player, and the music changed. A slow gentle piece soon filled the air. Seven stood, and extended her hand to Harry. "Would you care to Dance?" Harry seemed to appreciate the offer, and the grace with which she made it. She would have to remember to thank the doctor. Some of his lessons actually seemed to have merit. "Of course." He stood, took her hand, and as she pulled him to her, he reciprocated, and wrapped his arms around her as she did with him. They began to move. Seven moved back and forth as the music played. She had researched dances in preparation for this date, and had decided that what was referred to as a 'slow dance' would be most appropriate as a starting point. Considering what had happened with Chapman, she required something simple as a start. Once she had established a dancing rapport with Harry, she would move on to the next dance in her plan. The slow dance called for them to hold each other close, and to move back and forth. It was a simple step, and easy for them to follow each other. Her arms embraced his back, holding him close. The music was slow and restful, hypnotic in it pace. It cast a calm, and she relaxed. She began to notice the feel of him, his presence. She felt his form as they moved, his chest breathing as they danced, swelling into her arms and chest, withdrawing, then returning again. She felt his head next to hers, the warmth of his breath on her neck. As they slowly moved back and forth to the cadence of the music, she felt him shift his arms to pull her a little closer, and she settled into his embrace. She felt his warmth against her as they moved. One arm rested on her back, the other pressed behind her shoulder. His chest molded into hers, pressing as they moved. She turned her head slightly, and his hair brushed her cheek. Its scent touched her, just hinted at, teasing as from a distance. She turned a little more, and closing her eyes, inhaled, filling her senses with that scent. She explored it, rolled it through her mind as one would sand between the fingers, considering, sensing, remembering. Breathing his scent, she sensed their bodies touching, together from shoulder to hip. The warmth of that touch focused her, the scent of him filled her. She had never felt a sensation like this before. It radiated out through her, and drew her back to it. It was somehow different. Comforting. Inviting. It held her. She slowly began to move the fingers of her hand, carefully, tentatively. They caressed a small area of his back, sensing the curves, the feel of his shoulder. Eventually, she began to explore further, running her fingers over his back. She slowly discovered his form, discerned his shape, gave physical substance and sensation to the visual memory from the shower. She no longer simply saw it as an image, she felt it, knew it. It was no longer something 'there', it was now something 'here'. She initially tensed as his hand also began to move, and then relaxed into the sensation. His fingers followed the same path as hers, but on her back instead of his. She felt his fingers glide across her skin, electric as they moved, her whole being focused on that touch. They moved across her, her senses shifting between the touch and the sense of his body against hers, but always drawn back to that touch. Her fingertips began to cross his back again, reaching his shoulder. Her mind followed their progress almost as an afterthought, sensing the feel of him even as it reveled in the touch of his fingers on her. Her fingers slowly swept down his spine, traveled to his waist, the small of his back. They lingered there, resting in the gentle, smooth depression. Wherever his fingers went, her mind followed. His touch became her senses. For moments, there was nothing but the feel of his finger tips moving across her, bringing her awareness to a new portion of her surface. Eventually her hand traveled back, lightly brushing the muscles beside his spine, the smooth ridge drawing her hand up. It found a resting place on the nape of his neck, where her fingers could simply trace a path repeatedly back and forth, his hair lightly brushing her hand. His hand also moved up, stroked her neck, brushed her hair. Her hand eventually drew up further, her fingers slowly entering his hair, spreading, enveloped, soft. Without knowing why, she pulled his head to her, held him closer, as her hand cupped his head, wanting him close. They moved with the music, together, until it ended. Seven wanted the dancing to continue. She decided to impress Harry. She had spent some time analyzing what had gone wrong when dancing with Lieutenant Chapman, and had concluded that when turning, she had twisted his wrist in the wrong direction, which had prevented proper rotation of his arm. That had been the mistake that had thrown out his shoulder. She wanted to make sure Harry enjoyed himself, that this date was a success, and one way she knew of was to impress him. Having figured out the mechanics of what should have happened, she was ready to do it right this time. For Harry. She nodded to the piano player, and the hologram picked up the pace with the next planned dance. Harry looked surprised at the change of tempo, but quickly adapted. She liked that in him. She started the steps, leading him into it. She knew from her research that the male usually lead, but it was not unheard of for the woman to lead. She wanted to show him what she had taught herself to do. As Harry adjusted to her leading, she began to move her arm through the beginnings of the spin. She knew every movement that was to happen, how it would progress, and where they would end up. Considering what had happened with Chapman, it was important that she do this right. Time seemed to slow as she progressed through the sequence of moves. She observed as Harry attempted to follow her. It became clear from how he watched her that he was not following her yet. He was concentrating on her arms instead of her torso. As she arrested her momentum to begin the next part of the sequence, she watched him attempt to compensate for the direction she had previously been moving in. As she reversed the direction to begin the turn, it occurred to her what the difficulty had actually been with Chapman. Not having known what she was attempting, he had made the same mistake Harry was making now, and had compensated in the wrong direction. As the turn continued she realized the changes she had made in how she executed the maneuver were making no difference, since the wrist turn did not alter the direction the partner chose to move. In her analysis, she had forgotten to account for, and to compensate for, the efforts of the partner. A more significant and correct change would have been to indicate to the partner what was imminent by leading his hand with hers, to assure he moved in the correct direction. As the turn continued, she realized she would have to alter the sequence and do this again, since she had just made the same mistake she had with Chapman. What the consequence of that mistake would be occurred to her too late to stop it. Harry's shoulder dislocated with a simple, quiet pop. * * * The holodeck was filled, for a brief moment in time, with an agonized cry of pain, as Seven's count of successful dates dropped back down by one. Harry did his best, considering the pain, to lighten the mood as Seven walked him to sickbay, and through clenched teeth, managed to get out, "Don't worry about it Seven. The 7th rule of dating: Don't dwell on your mistakes." An obviously dejected Seven responded, "I take it from this that you believe I should not sense any remorse for inflicting this injury on you. Even though I have injured two different dates in the same manner." Harry's face cringed with the pain for a moment, causing a slight grunt. He then replied, "That's right. Look, I'm fine, it'll be ok." He tried to look at her with what he hoped was a cheerful smile. Seven looked at him skeptically. "You would be much more convincing if you were not writhing in pain." Harry sighed, and dropped the forced smile, which allowed the pain to return to his features. "You're not buying it?" "No, as you say, 'I am not buying it'. I have caused you pain. I will be forced to dwell on that for quite some time. I have now participated in four dates, and two have resulted in visits to sickbay." She looked forward as they walked, addressing no one in particular, "I am not sure I should be allowed to continue dating, if the health of Voyager's crew is to be considered." Harry cringed a bit, and tried to keep his end of the conversation up. He smiled a bit at Seven, "See, there's hope for you yet." He thought for a moment, then asked, "That was a joke, right?" Seven still looked skeptical as they approached their destination, "We shall have to wait to determine if it is humor or fact." They entered sickbay. * * * The Doctor, as usual got straight to work. He led Harry to a bio bed, and requested Seven remain. After scanning the shoulder, he confirmed that, as they suspected, it was dislocated. The Doctor asked how the injury had occurred. Before Harry could respond, Seven spoke up, "I was attempting a specific maneuver while dancing with Ensign Kim." The Doctor's features at first registered confusion, then the glimmerings of understanding. They then progressed to horror, before finally resolving into a pained questioning look at Seven, "Not....?" Seven took a deep breath, and confirmed her imperfection, "Yes, the same maneuver I performed with Lieutenant Chapman." The Doctor, at a loss for words for a moment, looked at Seven, Harry, then back at Seven. Finally, he settled on empathy. "I'm sorry this happened. Again." He soon went back to business. "However, I will need your assistance with Ensign Kim." He indicated a point by the bio bed's side, "Stand here," he placed one of her hands on the biobed against Harry's injured side, "and brace his side." Her other arm he placed across Harry's chest, hand on the good shoulder, "Keep his upper torso immobile." Seven braced Harry as directed, as the Doctor moved away. The position placed her near him, much as they had been while dancing, though not quite as close. She could, as she had then, feel his warmth in her arms, his chest move as he breathed. Guiltily, she tried to shut the sensation out. He looked up at her face, and tried to inject some humor, "We've got to stop meeting like this." His breathing was faster, with shorter breaths, his body tense due to the pain. She tried to deflect him, and looking away, said "Do not move." The Doctor returned from retrieving a hypo, and injected it. "This will help deaden the pain, but not remove it entirely. Too much would inhibit healing later." He shifted out to the side, picked up the tricorder again, and scanned the shoulder one more time. He then put it down, "Now, Seven, if you will hold him firmly, this should only take a few moments." Picking up Harry's injured arm under his, the Doctor continued, "Ensign Kim, I need you to relax yourself as much as possible. The procedure I am about to perform is a simple one, but if you remain relaxed, it will be much easier for you." A worried Harry focused on the doctor, and asked, "What is the procedure?" The Doctor looked at Harry, and sensed the time was right. "This." Before Harry could react or tense up, he placed a firm grip on Harry's upper arm while his foot braced against the biobed. As he pulled, his other hand reached in and pressed Harry on the upper part of the shoulder, pushing in and back. Having correctly figured the angle with the tricorder, the procedure had the effect of driving the arm joint back and into the socket. It also had the expected effect on Harry. As the Doctor began to pull, Seven felt Harry lurch as his entire body convulsed. He momentarily contained the pain, but the agony wrenched a cry from him, contorting his features. Seven sensed every nuance of his pain as, head jerked back and eyes shut, he endured the explosion in his shoulder, his body shaking and driving against her arms. Seven's distress grew. She had caused this. After a few moments, Harry took a ragged breath as the scalding flash of pain finally began to ebb back to a dull ache. As his breathing began to settle from the initial short erratic breaths into a more steady rhythm, the tension began to ebb out of his body, and Harry lowered himself back onto the bio bed. He opened his eyes after a few more breaths, and noticed a horrified look on Seven's face. The Doctor told Seven she could let go, and she immediately released him, stood, and teir a step back. He then addressed Harry, solicitously, "I'm sorry, Ensign, but there are a few things in medical science that still work best by brute force. I'll need you to stay for about an hour to make sure there are no complications. I assume there is no need to tell you not to try to use the arm. Now, I'm sure the two of you have a few things to talk about, so if you will excuse me, I'll be in my office." He withdrew to his office, sat down back to them, asked the computer for some Puccini, and began conducting the opera, humming along as he went. Harry closed his eyes, put his head back, and muttered, "That was fun. We should do this again sometime." Seven looked concerned, and pained, "Ensign Kim, you will be alright?" Harry reopened his eyes, and replied "I'll be ok, Seven, I'm just a little drained at the moment." Seven's discomfiture had not abated, and she sounded distant, withdrawn, tense, as she quietly addressed him. "Ensign Kim, the Doctor will make sure any damage to your shoulder is repaired. I should leave. Again, I am sorry for what I have done. Good evening." She turned, and headed for the door. Harry, not understanding Seven's sudden withdrawal, called after her, "Seven?" She stopped a few steps away, and turned, "If you would like to terminate our dating relationship, I will understand." It all suddenly fell into place for Harry. It must have been terrible for her to feel what he had just gone through, realizing she had caused it. Seven was running. She was running from his pain, from her own, and from a failure, assuming she'd destroyed it all. Harry carefully eased himself up until he was sitting, and said with a clear, quiet voice, "I'm not going anywhere Seven." "Ensign Kim, I realize your shoulder will keep you in sickbay." "That's not what I mean." He paused, and looked her in the eyes, "I'm not going to walk away from this, just because of a small setback. It may hurt like hell, but that's all this is, a small mistake. to ye been here for a long time. I'm not going to just pack up and go." Seven looked uncomfortable for a few moments, then took a halting step closer, and quietly uttered, "Lieutenant Chapman did not wish to continue dating. Why should you?" Harry had never seen Seven vulnerable. The emotions seeped around her barriers, reflected in her eyes. The pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten, he did his best to repair the evening's real damage. He thought for a moment, then continued, very evenly, "If he gave up because of a little thing like this, then Lieutenant Will Chapman is an idiot. Remind me to tell him that, sometime." Harry's uncharacteristic criticism, stated so off handedly, caught Seven off balance. She took the final step back, more troubled than Harry had ever seen her, and countered, "But it is not such a little thing. I have injured you, severely. I have caused you damage. Why would you wish to continue?" Harry considered. He could try to explain, but he wasn't sure she would accept words. He wasn't even sure she would understand what he would say, unsure they had any common points of reference for the discussion in the first place. So he did the only thing he could think of, that he thought she might be able to understand, that he could say or do. He reached out, and gently took her hand in his upturned fingers, and held it, brushing lightly with his thumb. After a few moments, he looked up, as her gaze also moved up from her hand. "You seem to be able to read me as well as anyone. You tell me." Seven attempted to consider this question as Harry's fingers caressed her hand, distracting her from her thoughts, his touch a somehow welcome intrusion. It was evident from his physical demeanor that his shoulder was still causing him pain, but it did not at the moment appear to distract him. His eyes were focused, unwavering. He was fixed on a task, on a purpose. Her. She looked down, at the hand caressing hers. She reached up with her other, and took his hand in hers. She turned it over, palm up, examined it. This was just a hand: fingers and palm, blood, flesh and bone. It moved like any other, functioned like any other. But somehow, it was more. It's touch was more. It meant more. She caressed that hand with hers, explored the sensation as her fingers traversed his palm, navigated his fingers, and then lingered at his fingertips. She studied it's lines, it's strength, it gentleness, it's touch. After a few moments, her eyes moved again to his, the upheaval and pain inside pressing her control. She looked at him, comprehending what he was trying to convey, but still not able to accept it. She pushed through the emotions, and though her words were the same, this time, instead of a request for information, they were an appeal, "But I still do not understand why. Why do you wish to continue?" Harry looked down and closed his hand over hers, holding it. "Sometimes, it's not important why. It simply matters that something is." He looked back up at her. "Do you understand?" Seven considered, and after a moment or two, the conflict drained from her features, leaving her looking simply tired, and worn. She looked at their hands and reflected, at a loss. After a few moments more, she acknowledged her reality, and quietly responded, "No." She continued to look down, took a breath, then Harry felt her hand tentatively tighten on his. She looked up at him, and seemed to search for words. Finally after a moment, she appeared to find a way to convey her meaning. "But I accept." For now, it was enough. Harry closed his eyes, and still holding Seven's hand, lay back to rest his shoulder. Once he was comfortable, he gave her hand a squeeze. Feeling her cautiously respond, he spoke. "However, before our next date, I have one request." "Yes?" His features slid into a small, tired smile as his eyes opened, twinkling with humor. "Dance lessons." End.