Chakotay looked across the mess hall, halting the progress of his spoonful of chocolate pudding on the way to his lips. Well, it wasn't, strictly speaking, chocolate pudding, but even if it had been, the sight before him was sweeter anyway.

She was sitting alone; she usually did. Socializing didn't come easy to her, and Chakotay knew as well as anyone that the cause was the crew's distrust rather than dislike of her. It was hard to dislike a woman who looked like Seven. In fact, it was damn near impossible. He licked his lips, his eyes wandering hungrily over her body, encased in that tight uniform. Lowering the spoon to the plate and picking both up, he decided to try his luck. Now or never.

"Seven, may I join you?" he asked when he came to stand next to her.

The Borg glanced up at him with complete disinterest before her attention returned to the padd she was studying. "If you wish, commander."

Chakotay sat down and grinned. "I saw you sitting here all alone and thought that... well, a girl like you shouldn't..." He licked his lips again.

Seven raised an eyebrow at him. "Is this what humans refer to as 'chatting someone up'?"

Chakotay's jaw dropped and he felt himself flush. "Um..."

"I gather from your discomfort that my assumption was correct." Not giving him the opportunity to deny it, she continued, "It would, perhaps, save you further embarrassment if we were to conclude the meeting at this point." Seven stood, glancing down at him.

Chakotay reached for her wrist and clasped it, ignoring her chilly look at his hand. "You've hardly given me a chance here, Seven." Seven pulled her arm free effortlessly, and Chakotay once more wished she wasn't so damn strong but a bit more submissive.

"That is because you have no chance, commander. Good day." And with that, she departed, leaving a startled human behind.

Neelix approached the table. "No luck, commander?"

Chakotay glared up at the Talaxian. "What's it to you, Neelix?"

Neelix shrugged. "I just thought I'd express my condolences to you, from one rejected suitor to another."

"You?" Chakotay asked, having a hard time suppressing his distaste for the idea.

"I'm afraid so." Neelix grinned good-naturedly. "I guess neither one of us has what she's after." With that, he removed Chakotay's not quite empty plate and left.

"What is it, ensign?" Seven asked impatiently.

Paris grinned at her from across the console in the astrometrics lab. "Oh, nothing, Seven."

Sounding somewhat annoyed, Seven said, "In that case, I would appreciate it if you ceased staring at me."

Paris sipped some more of his coffee, continuing to stare. "Why?"

"Because I find it disconcerting," Seven said, proceeding with her particle analysis without honouring him with a glance.

Paris, however, misunderstood. "I make you nervous?" he asked with a triumphant grin - the kind only those who make conquests too easily possess. "Or maybe... a little warm?" He winked at her.

Now, Seven did look at him. "No," she said. "A little nauseous."

Paris' face fell. "You can't be serious." This didn't happen to him. Not to him. He simply did not get rejected.

Seven glanced at him with pity in her cool blue eyes. "On the contrary, Ensign Paris. I am always serious." With that, she turned to another console and proceeded to ignore him entirely.

Paris scratched his head.

That was when Harry entered the lab. "Tom, I've been looking for... Oh hi, Seven!" the young man called out.

"Mr Kim." Seven continued with her work.

Harry blushed, hearing a softness in her pronunciation of his name which wasn't there. "Hard at work?" he asked, desperate to make conversation.

Seven glanced at him briefly. "I am analysing samples of particles we have found on our recent supplies purchases. The captain wishes me to ensure that they are not harmful."

Harry nodded. "Sounds... interesting."

Paris rose with a sigh. "When are you off duty, Harry? I was headed to the holodeck before I decided to come in here and have my heart trampled on." The last words were spoken with disbelief.

Seven raised an eyebrow, but did not look at him. Her slender fingers continued to fly across the keys.

Harry bit his lip. "Um... I'm off duty now." He was still standing in the doorway as if he was afraid of coming all the way in. His eyes were glued to Seven, who ignored him pointedly.

Paris walked across to him and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Come on. It's chilly in here."

But Harry gazed back over his shoulder. "Want to join us, Seven?" he asked. "It would be fun."

Seven looked up. "No, thank you, Mr Kim. I believe I would prefer to continue working."

"Told you," Paris muttered.

Harry lowered his eyes. "Okay, Seven. See you later then."

The two humans left and Seven ceased working immediately. She turned and her eyes strayed to the large wall screen before her. For a moment, her face held an expression of longing - one that no one onboard Voyager had ever seen. But soon, that look vanished, and she once more returned to her analysis.

On the way back from the Bridge a few hours later, Seven met Janeway and Torres. The captain and the chief engineer were headed for the recreation area, dressed in athletic outfits.

"I'm going to teach B'Elanna to play tennis, Seven. Care to join us?" Janeway gave Seven one of those piercing gazes which made the Borg feel quite undressed.

Seven shook her head. "No, thank you, captain. I have other plans."

Torres tried her luck. "Just the three of us, Seven, none of the boys. It'll be fun." She winked at her.

Janeway smirked as she imagined just how much fun it would be to get Seven all hot and sweaty in a little tennis outfit. "A lot of fun," she chimed in, her gaze leaving the Borg in no doubt as to her motivations for the invitation.

Seven suppressed a shudder. "I find myself curiously disinterested in having... fun tonight, captain. But thank you for the offer."

The two women glanced at each other, then shrugged.

"You really are a spoil-sport, Seven." B'Elanna pulled a face and then walked away.

Janeway looked somewhat dejected also, but after a quick, "Have a good evening, Seven," she followed Torres down the corridor.

Seven remained behind, sighing with relief.

"Excuse me, Seven?" came a deep voice from the other end of the corridor.

"Commander Tuvok," Seven said politely. She felt respect for the Vulcan, who possessed very nearly the only ordered mind on this ship.

Tuvok stopped in front of her. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining me for a game of Kal-toh. I find you a most... challenging opponent."

"Thank you, commander," Seven said politely. "Perhaps another day."

Tuvok nodded. "As you wish." He looked somewhat regretful.

They parted company after a polite nod from each, and Seven returned to her alcove, where she stood and thought very hard for a few minutes. Then she made a decision.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite Borg," the Holodoc said warmly when Seven entered sickbay. Then something in her restless demeanour alarmed him. "What's wrong, Seven?" When she merely looked at him silently, he led her to the nearest biobed and motioned for her to sit. Then he retrieved his tricorder and began scanning her.

"I don't know, doctor," Seven said, sitting down. "I find that I seem to attract an unwanted degree of... attention today from the senior crew of the ship."

"What kind of attention?" the doctor asked, attempting to sound detached.

Seven looked him straight in the eyes. "The amorous kind, I believe."

The doctor's eyebrows drew together. "I see."

"I was hoping that you could perhaps help me establish whether I am in some way malfunctioning."

"I doubt that," he declared. "I'm not reading any abnormalities in either your bloodstream or general physionomical profile, nor does there appear to be a malfunction in your nanoprobes or your cortical node."

"Oh." Seven seemed unusually frustrated by this.

"I'm very sorry," the doctor said regretfully. "I wish I could--" That was when he noticed a subtle change in Seven after all.

"Doctor?" Seven enquired when he held her face up by her chin.

He was surprised to find her trembling, but continued his examination unperturbed. "Curious," he said.

"To what are you referring?" Seven asked, meeting his gaze.

"Your eyes. They seem to be..." He wasn't sure how to put it. "Glowing?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "That is not possible, doctor. Aside from my occular implant, my eyes are free of Borg technology; there should be no capacity to 'glow' in their physical make-up. When I was completely Borg, that was not the case. I was, in fact, able to generate a laser beam--"

"Hmmm..." the doctor interrrupted, his look of concentration silencing her. He turned Seven's face this way and that, letting it be lit from different angles.

"Should I be concerned about this?" Seven asked, unusually apprehensive.

"That depends," the doctor stated, still holding her chin but no longer moving her head from side to side. "On whether or not you want to be in love." Seven's eyes widened, glowing all the more, and the doctor suppressed a very instinctive need to sigh.

"I am... in love," Seven stated, and it was as much a question as a discovery.

"I'm afraid so," the doctor stated.

Seven blinked at him. "This causes you apprehension?"

"No! No, of course not." The doctor cleared his throat. "I thought that it might cause you apprehension."

"Should it?" Seven asked innocently.

The doctor was at a loss. "Well, probably not. It could explain your greater than usual appeal to others; people in love tend to exude vivaciousness and charm, making them especially attractive. As to yourself - I suppose it all depends on whether the object of your affections returns... them."

Seven nodded slowly, as if deep in thought. "How would I go about finding out?"

"You could ask," the doctor offered, but immediately corrected himself. "But that is not generally considered the best approach. Subtlety is preferred by most potential mates, I believe." He was chattering but couldn't stop himself. "I'm probably not the best person to advise you. I do lack experience in these matters myself, and--"

"Subtlety?" Seven interrupted.

The doctor nodded. Then he realized he was still holding Seven's chin and released it as if it had suddenly grown hot.

"Why did you do that?"

The doctor stepped back a little. "Do what?"

Seven picked up his hand and stared at it. "Why did you remove your hand so suddenly?"

"Survival instinct?" the doctor suggested, trying for humour, but Seven did not return his embarrassed grin.

"You were in no danger from me, doctor," she said calmly.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, but his voice was shaky because Seven was still holding his hand.

"Tell me," Seven began after having thought about something for a moment. "How is this... subtlety achieved?"

"I'm not sure I know," the doctor said regretfully. "But I think the cautious thing to do would be to look for signs that your feelings are reciprocated."

"That makes sense," Seven agreed, turning his hand over and back again.

"Thank you." The doctor set down his tricorder, but had to lean forward a little to do so, which brought his face very close to Seven's. He quickly drew back and glanced down, avoiding her eyes.

Seven looked somewhat lost when she asked, "What are these signs, doctor?"

"Oh dear." He gazed back at her, similarly lost. "What about... ah yes, I know." He smiled. "The expression of a desire to spend time with you, perhaps?"

"I see. I have come across this earlier today when Cdr Chakotay invited himself to sit at my table. But that might merely be a sign of physical attraction, am I not correct?" Seven asked.

"That's true," the doctor admitted.

"What about touch?"

The doctor stared at Seven's fingers curled around his own. "Touch?" he muttered. "You mean, touching more than strictly... necessary in the line of duty?"

She nodded. "Although, that too might be a sign of attraction only."

"I see the problem," the doctor said, and their eyes met in mutual commiseration.

"This is rather difficult," Seven said, somewhat annoyed. "Why have humans not developed some form of unmistakable sign language to deal with these matters?"

The doctor nodded. "It would make things easier, but to be honest, I actually think they - I mean we - like to be obtuse about this kind of thing."

"That is not logical."

"Exactly."

They looked at each other.

Then, the doctor had an idea. "Ah!" he exclaimed.

Seven perked up somewhat. "A clear sign, doctor?"

"Perhaps." He smiled. "Concern."

"Concern?" Seven gave this some thought.

The doctor nodded. "Honest concern for a person should be a very good indication of affection."

"Concern for her safety?" Seven asked.

"Yes."

"For her well-being?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

Seven's eyes seemed to glow a little brighter still, and the doctor thought, ridiculously, of a summer's day. He'd never seen a summer's day outside of the holodeck, but if he ever should, he was sure it would be a lot like looking into Seven's eyes just then.

He was unguarded when Seven mused, "And affection would make a potential mate a good advisor, and a friend?"

"Oh yes, definit--" The word stuck in his throat. Silly, he was a hologram. Verbal expressions couldn't suffocate a holographic matrix.

Seven gazed up at him, looking suddenly very vulnerable, but her uncertainty had vanished without a trace. She didn't allow his nervously restless eyes to leave her own as she lifted his hand to her cheek.

"Seven," the doctor croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Seven, what are you doing?"

She closed her eyes, her cheek still resting against his hand. "Testing a theory, doctor."

He bit his lip, and he could have sworn that it hurt. "Don't do this, please," he said.

Seven was confused. "I am sorry if I misjudged," she said, her voice sounding hollow and pained.

"No!" The doctor leaned forward, preventing her from standing by supporting himself on the bed beside her with one hand. "No, I am sorry. I'm the one who..." He swallowed.

"You're the one?" Seven murmured.

Despite his fear of doing something wrong, saying the wrong word, perhaps, the doctor had to speak up. If he didn't, she might leave. He couldn't let her do that. Not now that she'd come to him, of her own accord, when he'd almost given up hope.

"Yes, Seven. I am." He felt her release his hand and immediately turned it to stroke over her pale cheek with the back of it.

Her eyes closed and she sighed a little, and that small sigh filled him with more tender affection than he'd ever thought himself capable of.

"I am... very relieved." She smiled hesitantly.

Her smiles were so rare, and usually so cool and unemotional, that to see her lips curved into such an honest, sweet expression of pleasure made him want to... sing. He smiled at the thought, remembering the two of them singing together. It was one of his fondest memories. Seven turned her face and kissed his stroking fingers, and the doctor gasped. He cupped her face in both hands and leaned down towards her.

"May I kiss you?" he asked softly.

"Is it customary to ask first?"

He smiled at the way she continued to talk like a Vulcan even while he could sense as much as hear her increased breathing, her nervousness and excitement. He knew at that moment that he could never, ever, grow tired of her, because every day, a new facet of her would open to him like a flower blossom, a new shred of her long forgotten humanity would be exposed and another smile would make him sigh with happiness.

"I love you, Seven" he whispered, and then he kissed her with all the tenderness he'd been saving up for her alone.

Seven's full lips parted, and she returned his kiss eagerly, learning this from him as she'd been learning so many things over the past few months. The crew had taught her much, but truth be told, everything human she'd learned to understand about herself, she'd learned from him, maybe because he... wasn't.

When he drew back after a long time, Seven said breathlessly, "I believe I return that sentiment."

And they both smiled this time, knowing that her logic and analytical mind would never make a mistake about a thing of such importance.