Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Voyager

It was 0300 hours and Chakotay couldn't sleep. He was still trying to process the events of the last few days. Frankly, he found the whole thing confounding. He had watched a borg drone go from nothing more than a fetus to a fully grown adult in the space of a day. It was even more astounding that he had watched that drone become human. He'd watched from the sidelines as Seven did her best to teach him what had taken her months to learn. One, as he called himself, had quickly ingratiated himself into the good graces of the crew and helped them solve one problem after another. He had proven himself to be far more than "sufficient". The thing keeping Chakotay awake was One's sacrifice. He had put his life at risk for the sake of Voyager's crew and when it had become apparent that the Borg would stop at nothing to assimilate him, he had refused treatment from the Doctor. He had died to protect everyone from the Borg. There was no doubt in Chakotay's mind that One had fully embraced his humanity during his brief existence.

Chakotay gave up on his contemplation laden tossing and turning. He pulled on a grey tee and a pair of shorts he used for boxing before making his way to the mess hall on bare feet. The lighting in the corridors was set to low for the night shift and Voyager felt oddly peaceful. He didn't bother to turn on the lights. He told the replicator "Camomile Tea, Hot" and made his way to the galley to see if there was any of the the Ktarian chocolate pie leftover from dinner. He was happy with the spoils of his plunder and was about to head back to his corner when he heard a sniffle coming from the far corner of the room. "Computer: Lights, low level."

Seven of Nine sat hunched on one of the sofas, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly about herself. It looked as though they were the only things holding her together. Chakotay could see that her eyes were red from crying.

"I apologise, Commander," she said before Chakotay could say anything, her voice unsteady. "I did not mean to disturb you; I was having trouble regenerating."

"You hardly need to apologise for that, Seven." Chakotay made his way over to her, pie and tea in tow, and sat down in the empty space next to her. He wanted to ask her how she was managing but couldn't find the words. Of all the crew, she had been the closest to One. If he was feeling his absence, she must be going through hell right now. She was agitatedly wringing her hands together and Chakotay grabbed one of her wrists and held her hand up to the light. "You're hurt." Seven tried to pull her hand back, she might have managed it if it had been the one with the Borg exoskeleton, but Chakotay's grip was firm. "What happened?" Her knuckles were torn and bloody, it looked recent. "Why haven't you been to sick bay?"

"I am fine," Seven's normally stoic voice was barely above a whisper. "I am not permanently damaged." Chakotay's grip slackened and she tugged her hand away and held it to her chest, the fingers curled inwards as though she couldn't straighten it fully. "I do not wish to talk to the Doctor at present. Or rather, I cannot tolerate a lecture at present." Chakotay couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Well, I don't see any reason to bother the Doc. I know my way around a dermal regenerator." He stood up and offered Seven a hand. She ignored it and stood by herself, her lithe body unfolding elegantly from her crouched position on the sofa. "There's a medkit in my quarters. I'll heal you up and you can tell me what happened." Seven looked conflicted, torn between acquiescing and bolting. "Don't worry," Chakotay continued, "I've had more than my fair share of ridiculous injuries, I doubt it's anything that'll shock me."

Seven seemed to relax a little, the tension in her shoulders easing. She kept pace with the commander as they made their way to Chakotay's quarters. When they walked through the door Seven couldn't help the small gasp of awe that escaped her and stopped short in the entrance. His quarters were spacious and she could see evidence of Chakotay's personality throughout. Delicately carved votives and interesting paintings decorated the space. It felt homey. Chakotay turned back to her, a bemused look on his face. "What's up? You look like you've discovered hidden treasure."

"It is just that I haven't seen any crew quarters before." She looked a little embarrassed. "I didn't expect them to be so comfortable." She looked a little wistful and wouldn't meet his eye.

"Well, feel free to have a look around. I'll be back with the medkit." He left through a door that looked like to led to a bathroom. The room was well appointed with a neatly made double bed filling one corner, a table and chairs in the other. It had a huge window and Seven was momentarily captivated by the stars whizzing past. It was thanks to One that she was still alive to see them. A comfortable looking sofa ran beneath the window, adorned with a knitted blanket and a few well-worn cushions. She moved to examine the small table beside his bed. There was a small stack of books, none of which Seven had come across yet in her research, and a framed photograph of Voyager's crew. She was in the photograph, stood off to one side, alone and absorbed in a PADD. Why did she find interaction so difficult? It couldn't just be the Borg in her, One had adapted perfectly. Seven caught a glimpse of her reflection in the frame. She looked dreadful. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips dry and cracking, her usual helmet of hair had come loose and had settled in disheveled waves and tangles. She was so absorbed in examining herself that she didn't register Chakotay walking towards her and startled when he touched her arm.

"Here we are." Chakotay took her hand gently in his own, it was warm and slightly rough, and carefully ran the dermal regenerator over the wound, concentration gracing his features. The cuts began to heal under the gentle light and Seven was soon able to unclench her fingers again. "Now, how about you let me know what happened?" He went over to sit on the couch and Seven followed suit, curling her legs beneath her.

"I may have-" She stopped, a little uncertain. Chakotay stayed silent and waited for her to gather her words. "I punched one of Neelix's cargo containers." She couldn't look him in the eye.

"I figured as much." Seven looked up in surprise and saw the understanding in his face. "I've done that myself on more than one occasion. It's partly why I box. It's much safer to take out your frustration on a punch bag or a hologram."

"A logical step," Seven looked at him, unsure of herself, "I only wish I'd thought of that before I'd damaged myself. Not that I know how to box. The Collective considered the skill irrelevant." Chakotay chuckled a little at that.

"Well," he looked her in the eye to gauge her reaction, "maybe I could teach you?" She quirked a brow, her optical implant raising as well. "Only if you feel you need it. I'm sure you're perfectly capable of dealing with this yourself though." His words came out hurried and uncertain.

"That would be …" a small smile graced her lips, " … acceptable. Boxing would be an efficient outlet for this frustration. How about tomorrow at 1800 hours?"

"Holodeck two?" Chakotay was grinning now, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Seven nodded and got up to leave the room. "I look forward to it." Chakotay called after her as he watched her sleek form disappear into the corridor. He climbed back into his bed, suddenly feeling as though he would be able to sleep.

The following day was one of the most trying Seven had experienced to date. She felt frustrated and short tempered, barely able to stand the most perfunctory of conversations. She skipped her weekly maintenance check with the Doctor - she would not have been able to endure his particular brand of social interaction without punching another unsuspecting object, if not the Doctor himself. She skipped her scheduled nutritional supplements so as to avoid Neelix and the mess hall and sequestered herself in Astrometrics, researching boxing in between scans and snapping at anyone who bothered her.

She never really looked forward to shift change, often staying at her station long past her allotted hours but today she was out of the door before the duty bell had finished buzzing. Once in cargo bay two, she ducked behind the crates that she used for privacy - she should really request a doorbell - and changed into the sleeveless bio suit and sneakers she used for her weekly velocity games with the captain. She shook out her hair and wrestled it into a french braid with unpractised fingers. Her usual french twist barely stood up to a round of velocity and certainly would not stand up to boxing.

Anticipation thrummed through her as she made her way to the holodeck. She hoped the boxing would help to relieve the anger she was harbouring over One's death. She didn't have to wait long for Chakotay to arrive. He was wearing a grey tee, loose and sleeveless, and carrying two pairs of crimson boxing gloves. He smiled when he saw her waiting, dimples creasing his cheeks as he did so. "Shall we get started?" Seven nodded. "Computer: activate holodeck program Chakotay Gamma Three."

The room they walked into was dark and dingy. Wooden floors had been worn smooth with use and there was a raised platform in the centre. Chakotay flicked on the lights and Seven was soon able to make out the rest of the space. Punch bags hung suspended from one side, lockers and benches lined the opposite wall. "Welcome to my safe haven." Chakotay flung his arms wide, a proud smile on his face. "The safest place in the Delta Quadrant to pound away your frustrations."

Seven arched an eyebrow - part skepticism, part amusement. "I am sure it is. Where do we begin?"

Chakotay pointed to the benches. "First we wrap our hands. I don't use safety protocols in this program so it's important we're kitted up correctly." He straddled a bench and gestured for her to do the same. "Hold out your hands." She did so and Chakotay gently grasped her human one with his own. "You probably don't need to wrap your left one, the Borg exoskeleton will serve the same purpose." Seven pulled that hand back, clenching it at her side. "I'll show you how to wrap your hand this time," Chakotay continued, "and then you'll be able to do it yourself." He grabbed one of the wraps he'd brought with him and unwound it carefully. He slipped the loop over her thumb and slowly began to wind it round Seven's hand. He showed her how to keep the wrap smooth and how to wrap in between each of her fingers. Once he had stuck the velcro in place, he had her throw a few air punches to see how it felt.

Seven examined her hand. "It feels unusual but comfortable. I am sure it will be adequate." Chakotay chuckled softly at her typical response. He wrapped his own hands as she watched carefully, determined to be able to do it herself the next time. She couldn't help but noticed how relaxed he seemed in this room. He was always pretty laid back but her enhanced visual acuity meant that she could read the tension that was often hidden in his hunched back and in the delicate lines of his face. In here, all that tension had melted into an easy posture and small smile.

He took her through a few warm up stretches before helping her slip on his spare pair of gloves and demonstrating how to use the punch bag. They spent the next few hours going through different exercises for Seven to try. Soon Chakotay sat back and just watched her take out her frustrations on the poor bag. She was a natural and Chakotay felt sure he would have her in the ring in no time.

Seven had to stop eventually, her stomach growling persistently. She turned to Chakotay, "I have been remiss with my nutritional supplements today," she admitted a little embarrassed. "I think a trip to the mess hall is necessary." Chakotay smiled, finding her admission endearing.

"Of course!" He threw her a towel to wipe off her sweating brow and started to unwrap his hands. She followed suit and they were soon terminating the holoprogram and walking, a little sore, towards the mess hall. They had missed the dinner rush and the room was blissfully quiet. Neelix was fussing in his kitchen and a few crewmen were settled on the sofas. Seven ordered her traditional nutritional supplement while Chakotay went to see what Neelix had on offer. She could hear them laughing and joking as the moral officer prepared Chakotay's meal, she often felt so distant from the crew. Maybe one day she would be able to joke and laugh like that too.

He sat down opposite her. "It must be my lucky day," he pointed to the bowl of steaming food in front of him, "vegetable moussaka. One of Neelix's better dishes." He had a broad grin on his face, practically all dimples. Seven found them intriguing. "What do you have there?" He pointed to her cup, a mix of curiosity and disbelief on his face.

"It is a nutritional supplement. Far more efficient than Neelix's culinary endeavours." Chakotay chuckled a little at Seven's attempt at humour.

"But that can't taste good!"

"Taste is irrelevant." Chakotay nearly lost his mouthful in disbelief.

"How can you possibly say that? Here, try this and then tell me that taste is irrelevant." He had a forkful of the fragrant dish hovering in front of her mouth in seconds and Seven wasn't really sure what to do. Time seemed to stretch and she took the offered food to end the awkwardness. Her mouth was quick and neat as she did so, full lips making a tight seal around the fork, catching every last morsel. Taste my be irrelevant but the layered dish was delish. Chakotay gave a small "ha" of triumph, he must have been able to read the enjoyment in her features. "Neelix, another bowl of your divine moussaka!" Neelix was only too happy to oblige.

"This is inefficient," Seven lifted a forkful to her mouth and ate it anyway, the delicate spices tingling her tastebuds. A small smile played on her mouth. "Humans spend far too much time consuming nutrients, if Voyager's crew is anything to go by."

Chakotay gave her a bemused look. "It's not just about consuming nutrients, it's social interaction and taking a break from stressful situations. Eating can often be seen as a recreational activity in itself!" He spoke with passion and certainty. "Food brings people together! A meal is a great way to get to know someone."

Seven contemplated this over another mouthful of moussaka. "I have observed that the crew seem to be at their most relaxed when in the mess hall, it's a valid hypothesis." She seemed unsure of herself for a moment before resolve strengthened her features. "You say that meals are an efficient way of getting to know a person, so what would you like to know?"

Chakotay was a bit taken aback by her forwardness but recovered quickly. "We'll start off easy, what's your favourite colour?"

"Red," Seven's reply was quick. "Or at least it was when I was a child. I am not sure that I still have a favourite colour, it seems rather trivial. What is yours?"

Chakotay wasn't nearly so quick with his reponse, rubbing his chin in thought. "I think it's green. It reminds me of the nature and all its beauty. That's one thing I really miss." Sadness clouded his eyes for a moment before his easy grin returned. "Why did you change your hair for tonight?" He gestured towards her head and Seven suddenly became hyper aware of the strands that had escaped her slightly wonky braid to tickle her face. She smoothed them away.

"Well," she started, uncertain again, "when I play velocity, my usual style tends to loosen itself. My research suggested that boxing would be even more rigorous."

"But why did you chose a braid? I'm curious."

Seven thought for a moment. "I remember my papa doing them for me as a girl. My mother was terrible with hair but my papa was patient and learnt how to do it properly." She ran her hands over her golden tresses, lost in memory. "The french braid was my favourite. He always used to finish it off with a red ribbon." She looked Chakotay straight in the eyes. "I had forgotten that, until now."

Chakotay gently squeezed her fingers, trying to show her that he understood both the pain and joy of long-forgotten memories, his warm hand lingering on her smooth, cooler one. "It suits you. You should wear your hair like this more often."

Seven smiled shyly in response to the unexpected compliment. After a moment, she spoke again. "Why did you learn to box?"

"I learnt at the academy. To begin with it was because I had an extracurricular requirement to fulfil. I was so caught up in my first experiences of life on Earth that I was a little late signing up to all my programs. Boxing was one of the only sports still accepting applicants. It didn't take me long to realise that I was well suited to it and I found it worked as an excellent form of stress relief." His eyebrows lifted emphatically, wrinkling his tattoo. "And boy was I stressed those first few years at the academy. They don't mess about and the pressure was enormous. Boxing became my lifeline. And I was good too." His grin broadened into a goofy smile. "I was virtually undefeated." Seven could see pride glistening in his eyes.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now?" His expression sobered a little. "Now, I just spar with holograms. But hopefully that will change." He raised his brows at her in a silent question.

"Hopefully." Maybe boxing could become more than just an outlet for her emotions. The captain had been pestering her to pursue recreational activities for a few weeks now.

Chakotay dropped his fork into his empty bowl with a clatter. "I think I've earned a dessert," he said, looking over his shoulder at her as he headed to the replicator. "Can I get yet you anything?"

"No. Thank you."

"I suppose dessert is irrelevant?" he asked with a cheeky smile.

"Exactly."

He returned and placed a plate on the table. On it sat a perfectly round circle of pastry piled high with fluffy cream stained pink in places by glistening strawberries. Seven felt her mouth water. Strawberries. Memories came flooding back to her: picking them in fields with her papa, hulling the succulent fruit with an aunt as they made jam, throwing a tantrum when she hadn't been allowed any after not finishing her dinner.

"Maybe dessert is not so irrelevant after all." A moment of daring swept over her and, before she could talk herself out of it, she had picked up Chakotay's fork and pulled the plate towards her. Chakotay just laughed and watched enraptured as she wrapped her lips around the fork, sighing in pleasure as she tasted that first bite. He shook himself out of his reverie and went to go replicate another one. Seven didn't look like she planned on sharing.

Once they had finished, Chakotay walked with her back to cargo bay two before heading to his quarters. It had been a bizarre, yet surprisingly fun evening. He had been trying to get to know Voyager's resident Borg a little better over the last few months, partly on the captain's orders. They had had a rocky start together to say the least but he had made some headway tonight. And he'd found the whole thing far more enjoyable than he had anticipated.

Exhausted after his full day and his previously wakeful night, Chakotay was quick to strip off for a badly needed sonic shower before slumping into bed. He was asleep almost immediately …

… Chakotay was back in the boxing gym. Seven was pounding away at a bag while he watched. He could see the muscles of her arms and back ripple with strength and he stared, mesmerised, as a single bead of sweat rolled down her long, perfect neck. A quiet "whoa" escaped him and Seven paused before turning to face him, breasts heaving from exertion under her skin tight biosuit. She arched her Borg-enhanced brow, "Perhaps it is you, Commander, who would like a pounding instead?" She reached up to pull the hair tie from the end of her braid and shook her gorgeous mane loose before stalking towards him. Chakotay's breathing hitched as her strong hand splayed across his chest and forced him down onto the bench behind him. He could barely breath as her lithe legs straddled his lap. She looked down at him, steely eyes boring into his, "Resistance is futile." And then she was kissing him, her hot, soft mouth warring with his own. Chakotay moaned and …

… practically sprang up in bed, the evidence of his arousal painfully obvious. "Fuck." This was not what he'd had in mind when he had invited Seven to box. It was supposed to be a friendly gesture between colleagues. Sure, he's always found her attractive, who didn't? She had most of the men and half the woman on Voyager checking her out on a regular basis. He once thought he'd seen the captain's eyes travel slowly up her endless legs before resting on her perfect arse. But he'd certainly never thought about her in quite this way. He really needed a cold shower but Starfleet, in their infinite wisdom, had declared water showers unnecessary for their vessels. He told himself it was just a dream, not even a very realistic one. He doubted Seven would ever be that forward nor reference the Borg at such a time. Physically though, it had been incredibly accurate; it seemed that his observations whilst she was training had been more thorough than he had previously thought. He lay awake for a while longer, focussing on restoring his heart rate and keeping his mind away from Seven.

Seven stepped out of her alcove at 0600 hours the next morning feeling more refreshed than usual. "Personal Log: Seven of Nine. Stardate 52093.2. After six full hours of regeneration, I am feeling myself again. Commander Chakotay's boxing suggestion seems to have helped alleviate my frustrations somewhat. Today I plan to recalibrate the EPS conduits and collaborate with Lieutenant Torres to upgrade the shuttles' plasma manifolds. I am scheduled to take a nutritional supplement at 1300 hours. I may forgo this in favour of actual food however after my experience with vegetable moussaka last night. I also need to visit the Doctor for my weekly check up; he will no doubt be annoyed that I avoided it yesterday and so I have allotted him an extra 20 minutes for the inevitable lecture. End log." She picked up a clean biosuit and headed to the little-used bathroom down the corridor.

She always admired the efficiency of the sonic showers. She pulled her brown biosuit on, the dermaplastic material soothing her exposed implants and was about to pin her hair into its usual twist when she paused and thought about the commander's comment the previous night. She found her fingers working her hair into another braid. It wasn't perfect but it was an improvement on last night's. She would have to find instructions in the database if she was to get it right. She examined her reflection closely. The braid helped to soften her all-too-angular features, she looked more approachable. She tried out a smile and decided the effect was pleasing before turning her back on the mirror and heading to Astrometrics and her EPS conduits.

Her day went smoothly, her work efficient and her interaction with B'Elanna was friendly - she now recognised most of the half-klingon's comments as humour and so they had fewer disagreements. Alerted by her internal chronometer that it was 1300 hours, she made her way to the mess hall, glancing at the replicator before deciding to brave Neelix's counter instead. "Seven!" he greeted her with his usual warmth. "I see last night's moussaka has turned your appetite from nutritional supplements to tastier alternatives. I was hoping you would drop by today, Chakotay mentioned this morning that strawberries had been a big hit with you and so I raided the Airponics Bay for some fresh ones. Today's dessert is strawberry mousse!"

Seven smiled a little at the thoughtfulness of both men. "Thank you, Neelix. And what is today's primary course? I am indeed anxious to try more of your cooking. As long as it has nutritional value."

"There's plomeek soup," Neelix gestured to a bubbling pot of translucent broth, "or there's carrot and leola root stew."

Seven looked over the offered food, slightly dubious. "I will try the stew, I think," she said uncertainly. Neelix gave a her a wide, grateful smile and passed her a tray topped with a bowl of the stew and a rather hefty portion of mousse. As much as she enjoyed strawberries, she would have to make sure that dessert didn't become a regular part of her daily routine. She scanned the mess hall for an empty seat and spotted one opposite the commander, she hadn't noticed his presence before now but he seemed to be staring right at her. "May I?" she asked, gesturing towards the seat.

The commander seemed to jump a little but then plastered a smile on his face and nodded, "Of course, be my guest." He seemed a little out of sorts as she sat down and Seven was unsure whether it would be better to bring up his discomfiture or to just let it slide. She decided on the latter and attempted to engage the commander in what the Doctor called "Small Talk".

"How are you today, Commander?" she asked, both out of politeness and curiosity as to the answer.

"I'm just fine, Seven. You should really just call me Chakotay, everyone else does. It fits me much more than 'Commander' ever has." He studied her carefully, making Seven squirm slightly. "You look better than yesterday." Seven arched an eyebrow and Chakotay seemed to realise the rudeness of his statement. "Healthier, like you've had a good night's sle … regeneration. I'm glad to see you in the braid again."

Seven felt herself blushing slightly at his close attention. "I managed to regenerate properly last night. It seems that either the physical exertion or the therapeutic quality of pounding the crap out of an inanimate object helped me a great deal." He seemed shocked at her harsher than usual language. "I apologise, I spent the morning with Lieutenant Torres. It appears that I have picked up some of her colourful vernacular."

Chakotay let out a loud belly laugh at her apology. "Don't apologise! It's good to see you getting along with the crew!" He took a tentative sip of the plomeek soup in front of him. "This isn't half bad for a Vulcan delicacy! I normally avoid it but I can't stand carrots!"

Seven tasted her stew. "Not completely offensive," she declared with a smile.

They ate their meals in comfortable silence until a small moan escaped Seven as she tasted a spoonful of the mousse. Chakotay looked up at her, half amused, half seriously turned on by the noise. He chuckled at her, trying to squash his arousal. "Good?" he asked, eyebrows raised and a teasing smile on his face.

Seven flushed in embarrassment but nodded emphatically as she spooned another mound into her mouth. She was radiant.

"Are up for some more boxing tonight?" Chakotay asked as Seven restrained herself from licking her bowl.

"That would be pleasant, Com … Chakotay. Would 1900 hours suit you?" Chakotay agreed and Seven strode out of the mess hall without another word.

They continued this pattern for nearly a week, lunching, training and helping Seven perfect her banter together. Seven enjoyed her new routine immensely and appreciated her time with the commander. Chakotay lived for the time he spent with Seven on the holodeck. His dreams had escalated from being sexual to downright romantic. He was pleased to note that she had taken his advice and had been wearing her beautiful hair in a fetching braid. His dreams often involved him unravelling the neat plait and running his fingers through her silken waves.

Seven was now proficient in all the training exercises he had taught her, it was time for her to get in the ring with him. She was apprehensive about hitting another person, especially Chakotay, she didn't always know her own strength and kept pulling her punches a little. It took him a while to convince her that he wasn't going to break. They had been sparring for five or six rounds, both shining with perspiration when a misplaced step took them both down. Seven landed hard on Chakotay, faces close together. Before he could think twice about it, Chakotay leaned up and placed his lips against her flushed cheek in a kiss. "I've wanted to do that for a while now."

Seven became hyper aware of his hard body beneath her and of tingling left behind by his lips. "I … er …" She didn't know what to say in resly. She decided to act instead, capturing Chakotay's cupid's bow lips with her own. He responded almost immediately, guiding her full lips with his more experienced ones. He flipped them over, eliciting a startled moan from Seven and pulled off his gloves to thread his hands through her loosened hair. She'd soon shucked her own gloves as well and her deft fingers slipped beneath the material of his shirt as she explored the muscles of his back.

When their lips finally parted, both panting for breath, Chakotay pulled back slightly so that he could look at her. He ran a finger along her cheek, "You are so strong and beautiful. I've been wanting to tell you all week."

Seven felt the intensity of his gaze and lifted her own hand, running it along the lines of his tattoo. "Boxing was a really good idea," she said before leaning up and kissing him once more.

Captain Janeway was pleased to see that Seven was having an easier time socialising with the crew, she spotted both her and Chakotay eating lunch together and made her way over to their table. "It's good to see you both in here!" she exclaimed before taking a seat next to her first officer. "Chakotay tells me he's been teaching you the noble art of boxing! How's it going?"

She missed the knowing glance the two of the shared and the way their legs brushed under the table as they said, "It's going just great," almost in unison.