Title:  It Was Your Blood Disclaimers: Paramount owns anything and everything associated with Voyager and her characters.  I just enjoy playing with them and shall make no money from this. This story depicts women who love women and aren’t afraid to show it.  That means sex.  If you can’t deal with that, I believe Barney is playing on someone’s television from the last century.  If you are too young or this is illegal where you live, leave now.  Spoilers:  Imperfection.   Archive: Perfect Misfits for sure.  All others, please ask. Rating:  R, just to be safe.  If it goes any higher, I’ll make note of it NOTE:  The stuff about the Klingon Blood Myth, I made up.  No offense to all the Klingons out there. NOTE:  In the world of my fan fiction, the episodes “Drive,” “Lineage” and all those after never happened. “Seven?”  Voyager’s Chief Engineer queried as she entered Astrometrics.  She was annoyed that she had to come looking for the former Borg, who failed to show up at a scheduled meeting.  And, although she would never admit to it aloud, Torres was concerned.  Seven never missed meetings.  If B’Elanna thought about it really hard, she would be unable to think of a time when Seven had missed a scheduled event in which her presence was required.  Looking around the science lab, B’Elanna was confused. “Computer, locate Seven of Nine.” “Seven of Nine is in Astrometrics,” replied the dulcet feminine tones of the ship’s computer. The engineer threw her hands in the air and walked around the lab, actively looking for Seven’s commbadge---knowing that was the only explanation for the computer’s response.  Spotting the telltale golden gleam of the badge up on the dais, B’Elanna walked up and grabbed it.  Fingering the metal, the half-Klingon left Astrometrics.  She was now, admittedly, concerned. “Deck 6,” she told the computer upon entering the turbolift. As she came through the doors to Cargo Bay 2, B’Elanna immediately looked up at the Borg alcoves.  Finding them empty, she frowned.  “Seven?”  Getting no response, the engineer walked further into the cavernous room.  It wasn’t until she was halfway across the room that she found her. “Seven!” B’Elanna yelled.  She saw the Borg crumpled at the bottom of the stairs at the far end of the dais, as far from the doors to the Cargo Bay as it was possible to be.  She ran over to Seven’s still form.  The scent of blood hit her hard, and an involuntary low growl came from deep in her throat.  “Torres to the Doctor.  Medical emergency!  Two to beam directly to Sickbay!”  She clutched the blonde to her chest as they dematerialized. Rematerializing in Sickbay, B’Elanna utilized her Klingon strength, helped by adrenaline, and lifted Seven up onto a biobed.  The EMH hurried over and began running a tricorder over the Borg’s limp body.  “What happened?” he asked tersely, frowning at his findings. Torres was staring at the vast amount of blood soaking Seven’s hair, turning the pale blonde locks into a crimson mass.  Pale and shaking, she answered the Doctor’s question.  “I don’t know.  She missed a meeting, so I went looking for her.  I found her in the Cargo Bay.  She was lying at the bottom of the steps.  There’s so much blood,” she whispered.  “Will she be alright?” The EMH frowned again.   Seven would require surgery, but he needed to contact some senior officers.  Rather than answer Torres, the Doctor tapped his commbadge, “Doctor to Commander Tuvok.” B’Elanna’s eyes opened wide at the implications behind the Doctor’s summoning of the Chief of Security.  She listened with half an ear as he asked the Commander to come down to Sickbay.  She heard them mention Seven’s name, then Captain Janeway’s.  When she heard the Doctor ask for Tom Paris, she grew alarmed. The Doctor severed the commlink and began preparing Seven for surgery.  “Lieutenant, Seven requires immediate surgery.  I believe she was attacked while she was regenerating.  That is the only way she wouldn’t have heard anyone approach.  I need to prepare my instruments.  Could you help remove her biosuit before Mr. Paris arrives?” B’Elanna’s head was swirling.  [Who would attack Seven?]  Then the Doctor’s last statement caught up with her.  [Remove her clothes?  Was he crazy?]  Then she thought about Paris doing the same thing.  [Over my dead body!] The thought caused her to suck up her courage.  Rolling the Borg over, she found the zipper and pulled it down her back.  B’Elanna’s heartbeats began a rapid tattoo as the pale, smooth flesh was revealed.  Blinking her eyes to focus on the task, Torres pulled the suit down over Seven’s shoulders to her waist.  Lying before her on the biobed was the wet dream of 75 percent of the ship’s crew, and she couldn’t enjoy the view.  Not when she was getting to see it because Seven was hurt and unconscious.  The thought made her nauseous.  Clearing her throat, she pulled the suit off the rest of the way, averting her eyes as the rest of the blonde was revealed, and pulled a sterile blue Sickbay sheet up to the Borg’s chin.  She finished just as her ex-husband jogged into the room. “B’Elanna?”  He looked back and forth from his ex-wife to the blonde on the biobed. “I didn’t do it, Flyboy,” growled the half-Klingon.  She used anger to mask the hurt she felt that he would think she could hurt anyone like Seven was hurt.  Yeah, she and the Borg argued, but it never got physical.  She actually enjoyed fighting with Seven.  Of course, she wouldn’t admit that aloud, either.  Thankfully, the Doctor interrupted them. “Mr. Paris, prep for surgery.  Lieutenant, please address Commander Tuvok and Captain Janeway regarding my findings.”  With that said, the EMH and Lt. Paris sequestered themselves behind a Level 5 force field to ensure a sterile environment. Five minutes later the very angry Captain of the starship Voyager stalked into Sickbay, followed closely by the ever-stoic Chief of Security.  They found Torres pacing in front of the force field, a storm cloud of emotions visible in her countenance. “Lieutenant!” barked Janeway.  “What happened?” Torres ran her fingers restlessly through her hair.  “Honestly, Captain, I have no idea.  Seven missed a meeting,” she noticed Janeway’s surprise at that, as well as Tuvok’s raised eyebrow.  She wasn’t the only one to realize the unusual nature of such an occurrence.  “So I went looking for her.  Her commbadge was up on the dais in Astrometrics.”  Again, she noticed the surprise on Janeway’s face. Janeway’s brow creased in confusion.  “I’ve never known Seven to go up on the dais in Astrometrics.”  Then she waved her hand for Torres to continue. “Well…I went to the Cargo Bay.  She wasn’t regenerating.  Then I found her on the other side of the dais.  She was sprawled at the bottom of the steps; her head was covered in blood,” she choked out, remembering the nauseating sight, and looked down at Seven’s blood on her uniform.  “I beamed us here.”  Turning to Tuvok, she continued, “The Doctor said to tell you that he believed Seven was struck with something while regenerating.  It would be the only way someone could get the jump on her, with her enhanced hearing and all,” she finished, rubbing her forehead ridges.  Too much was going through her mind right now.  She could hardly process all the emotions.  Tuvok turned to the Captain, “I will need to access Seven of Nine’s regeneration logs.  However, much of the investigation will rest in what Seven herself has to say.  Until I am able to interview her, there is only so far the investigation can go.” “Understood,” replied the furious Captain.  It was a well-documented fact that Janeway was extremely fond of Voyager’s resident Borg.  That someone would attack a member of her “family” infuriated her.  “Tuvok, assign as many of your team as you can spare.  Investigate this as far as it takes.  Make it your top priority.  Use whatever resources you need.” “Captain,” began B’Elanna, “could I help in some way?”  Turning to Tuvok, she continued, “Maybe I could help you decipher the sensors in the Cargo Bay?  Go through the records?” Janeway saw that Torres was somewhat emotional, bordering on volatile.  She motioned for Tuvok to proceed with his investigation.  As the Commander left Sickbay, Janeway turned back to Torres.  “B’Elanna, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?” she asked gently, an impressive feat in and of itself, considering how angry she was at the entire situation. Torres started pacing again, rubbing her fingers over her forehead.  “I’m not sure.  Something happened to me when I saw her lying there on the deck,” she whispered.  Placing her hand over her chest, she felt her twin hearts still beating furiously.  Tapping her chest, she continued, “Something happened in here, Captain.  Something I barely have an explanation for.  I’ve never been bothered by the sight of blood before.  And being part Klingon, the smell is somewhat of a romantic scent to me, ya’ know?  But not this time.  It made me nauseous.  The second I laid eyes on her broken form, a wave of rage swept over me that I haven’t experienced in a long time.  I literally smelled and saw red,” she growled out.  “I want to know who did this, who could hurt her like that…” she trailed off, her eyes drifting back to the activity behind the force field. Torres took a deep, stabilizing breath and continued with her explanation.  “When I was thirteen, I once heard some of my mother’s relatives talking.  One of the things I overheard was the telling of a myth called ‘Blood Love.’  It’s said that a Klingon will recognize their one true love and life mate by the scent of their blood.  I never gave that myth any thought after that night.  Until now.”  B’Elanna felt tears welling up in her eyes.  She brought her hands to her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to prevent them from falling.  As she did so, she caught a whiff of Seven’s blood, which was smeared on her uniform sleeve; the Borg’s head having been cradled against B’Elanna’s arm during transport.  The scent caused her to sway momentarily, and she steadied herself against a biobed.  “Captain,” she whispered, “I had no idea.”  Janeway stood watching in fascination as her Chief Engineer’s whole life was turned completely upside down.  B’Elanna looked at Janeway and said, “I’ve been so horrible to her!  I mean…well…not so much in the last few months but…before that?  What have I done?  Captain, she’s it for me.  The second I smelled her blood, my Klingon half just took over.  I recognized her immediately.  I never had that happen with Tom.  If I’d paid even the slightest attention to my Klingon half before, I might never have married the idiot!  I’ve wasted so much time!  What do I do?  How can I tell her this?  She won’t understand…hell…I don’t even understand!” Janeway’s heart melted for the young half-Klingon.  Finally realizing that the one person on board that you thought you hated was in fact the one person your heart and senses were searching for was a momentous and frightening event.  But not being able to do anything about it was worse.  Janeway watched Torres’ brow crease in thought.  She allowed herself a small smirk.  But NOT realizing that you had been falling for that person for some time was the absolute worst. “B’Elanna,” Janeway began, “I don’t think you’re giving Seven enough credit.  Though I agree that you were horrible to her in the beginning, you had no reason to believe she was your destiny.  What were you suppose to do?  Go around asking people to bleed so you could smell their blood?”  The Captain gave Torres an indulgent look.  “I think you realize how silly that sounds.  Everything happens in its own time.  You wouldn’t be who you are without your experiences, and your marriage to Tom is part of that.” “But B’Elanna, I’ll be honest.  I think we definitely need your expertise.  Next to Seven, you’re the best at deciphering sensor readings.  And you’re the best engineer I’ve ever encountered.  But if you can’t control yourself or your emotions, I won’t hesitate to remove you from the investigation.  You can report to Cargo Bay 2 to see Tuvok.” B’Elanna’s hesitation was slight.  She wanted very much to help catch whoever had brutalized the beautiful Borg, had in fact just begged to be allowed to do so, and she knew her specific engineering talents would be needed, but she also felt an overwhelming need to stay in or near Sickbay.  She did not want to leave Seven’s side. Seeing B’Elanna’s internal debate, Janeway made the decision for her, saying, “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”  Then in a softer tone, “I’ll call you if there is any word on her condition.” Torres nodded and hurried from the room.  Just before she reached the exit, Janeway dropped a bomb.  “Lieutenant?”  When B’Elanna turned to look at her, the Captain said, “Like I said earlier, I don’t think you give Seven enough credit.  Whatever you do, be honest.  She respects that more than anything.  Oh, and B’Elanna?  I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” Stunned, Torres just nodded and walked out.  *** *** ***  8 hours later Janeway looked around at those assembled in the briefing room.  Turning her glare on a non-responsive Tuvok, she demanded, “Report, Commander.” Tuvok merely raised his eyebrow and delivered his report in a near monotone voice.  “Seven of Nine was, indeed, attacked while regenerating.  She was struck by a blunt object, which would appear to have caused massive hemorrhaging.  Blood splatters in her alcove indicate that the blow was delivered from in front and slightly to the left of Seven’s position in the unit.  According to her regeneration logs, Seven’s cycle ended abruptly at 0623 this morning—“ Janeway interrupted to exclaim, “Do you mean to tell me that she laid on the deck in Cargo Bay 2 until Lt. Torres found her?  For three hours?”  Her tone was incredulous. Tuvok nodded.  “That would appear to be the case, Captain.” Janeway’s brow creased in thought and anger.  “Why didn’t she bleed to death?” The Doctor was attending the meeting via a commlink from Sickbay, where he was monitoring his patient’s condition.  He replied to Janeway’s question with, “All do respect, Captain.  This is our resident Borg.  And she had just completed nearly a full regeneration cycle when she was attacked.  Her nanoprobes slowed her bleeding and began minor repairs.  Were she not Borg, she would be dead.”  The EMH looked worn and drained from the day’s events, not so much because of what had happened, but, rather, because of whom it had happened to. Janeway gave a nod and gestured for Tuvok to continue his report. “The Doctor took imaging scans of Seven of Nine’s  wound.  I instructed Lt. Torres to adapt the ship’s computer database to reference the image against all known blunt objects on board that could be used as weapons.  When combined with the Doctor’s database on forensic evidence, it became clear that the weapon was a hyperspanner—“ Again, the Commander was interrupted.  This time by several voices.  He patiently waited for the commotion to die down before continuing, “The weapon itself is not indicative of the perpetrator of the crime.  Like everything else, it is merely a clue.  I will allow Lt. Torres to disclose her sensor findings.”  That having been said, Tuvok sat back. All eyes turned to B’Elanna.  Fatigue and disquiet were evident in her countenance, and it was easy to see that she wanted to be somewhere else.  Only Janeway, the Doctor, and Commander Tuvok knew that she wished to be in Sickbay, at Seven’s side. Gathering her focus, B’Elanna set out to deliver her report.  “Captain, sensors indicate that the doors to Cargo Bay 2 were accessed 22 times last night after Seven’s cycle began---which was at 2315 hours.  So there were at least 11 times someone had an opportunity to approach her.  And before anyone interrupts me---No.  None of the hatches or ports in the Cargo Bay have been utilized in two weeks.  No one’s been in the Jeffries tube that leads to that deck in one week.  And there were no transports in or out of the Cargo Bay.  So whoever did this came in the front door.” She took a deep breath before continuing.  “I can eliminate two of those opportunities.  The sensors detected the doors to the Cargo Bay opening at 0117 hours, at 0142, at 0145, and again at 0154 hours.  I can account for all of those.  I entered at 0117.  At 0142, Ensign Sanderson from Bioscience came in for spare equipment.  He left at 0145.  I left at 0154.  Seven was regenerating during that time.” Harry Kim scratched his forehead and asked stupidly, “Why were you in the Cargo Bay?  Especially at that hour?” B’Elanna sighed deeply.  “I was up working on the shield modifications Seven and I have been developing.  I had a question for her---so I went to ask.”  She shrugged her shoulders as she finished. Tom Paris took that moment to be an ass.  “So, let me get this straight.”  He adopted an air of disbelief.  “You went to ask her a question at 0117 hours---during off-watch.  And you found her regenerating.  So what?  You hung around for another, what?  37 minutes?  What the hell were you doing all that time?” Torres growled low in her throat and prepared to give a scathing retort.  She was prevented from laying into her ex-husband by the Captain’s voice. “Mr. Paris, I believe the reasons for the Lieutenant’s behavior are none of our concern.  If Commander Tuvok is satisfied, then so am I.”  She looked at Tuvok for support. Tuvok raised an eyebrow and replied, “Yes, Captain.  Ensign Brown and Crewman Chell both reported that they entered the Cargo Bay at 0334 and, according to the sensors, left at 0347.  They report that Seven of Nine was regenerating at that time.” “Good,” replied a curt Janeway, shooting Paris a force 10 glare.  “Now that B’Elanna’s been dismissed as a suspect, let’s hear what else you’ve found out.”  She all but growled her disapproval at her helmsman. “Well, basically, Captain, we’ve managed to attribute four of the remaining eight entrances to various personnel.  With the other four, we have no idea who entered the Cargo Bay.  I haven’t gotten any further.”  B’Elanna shrugged her shoulders and sat back wearily. Janeway gave Torres and understanding nod, and then turned to Tuvok.  “Commander, what’s the current status of the investigation?  Where do you go from here?” she asked, drumming her fingers against the table. Tuvok tilted his head and replied, “It is ongoing.  However, there is little more we can do until I speak with Seven of Nine.”  Turning to the viewscreen on the wall, he continued, “Doctor, when do you anticipate that will be possible?” The EMH affected a sigh.  “I can’t be sure.  It could be a couple of hours; it could be a couple of days.  With her nanoprobes working overtime, I suspect it will be closer to several hours, but probably no more than eight.”  He waved his hands, gesturing behind him, “She’s never sustained this type of injury before, so I’m at a loss as to exactly how her systems will adapt to the changes.” Janeway leaned forward.  “Then we’ll wait until she’s awake to continue.  Nothing leaves this room.  Is that understood?”  She waited until she had acquiescence from everyone before continuing.  “I want everyone assembled here tomorrow at 1000.  Doctor?  Contact Tuvok and Lt. Torres when Seven wakes up.”  After her scathing look to Tom earlier, no one remarked on her order to the Doctor.  Although all of them, except Tuvok and Torres, were wondering why B’Elanna needed to be notified, personally, of Seven’s condition.  “If no one has anything further?  Dismissed.” Everyone filed out of the briefing room except Torres and Janeway.  “Captain,” began B’Elanna, “I really appreciate you stopping Paris.  Although…I wouldn’t have hurt him.   Much,” she smirked. Janeway nodded.  “The way I figure it Lt., is that it isn’t any of his business.  Especially since the divorce.”  Janeway stood up and approached the door.  Looking over her shoulder at B’Elanna, she teased, “Besides…I’ve been guilty of watching her regenerate myself.”  Leaving behind a stunned engineer, Janeway sailed out of the conference room. *** *** *** 5 hours later, 2230 hours B’Elanna was sitting next to Seven’s biobed, just watching the ex-drone breathe.  As she sat there, absently rubbing Seven’s Borg-enhanced left hand with her own, she thought about the confusing---and surprising---turn of events in her life.  When she woke up this morning, she had no idea that she would discover her destiny in a Cargo Bay.  [Her blood]  It was the only concrete thought B’Elanna could wrap her mind around.  [She’s mine]  That one came a close second.  [Now how do I convince her?]  That was the toughest. Torres stroked the mesh-encased hand, ran her fingers up the incredibly strong arm, absent-mindedly tracing the silver exoskeleton up to where it ended, just below her elbow---and back again.  Over and over.  It was surprisingly soft.  Not at all what she expected.  Taking Seven’s hand in one of hers, B’Elanna lifted her free hand to the blonde’s luxurious tresses, ran her fingers through them while she stared off in space.  She had been doing this for about fifteen minutes when she began to feel as though she was being watched.  Looking down, she became trapped in a gaze of beautiful blue. Hand wrapped in Seven’s hair, fingers entwined with the Borg’s, Torres felt a moment of panic at being ‘caught.’  She allowed none of her panic to show, however, and just smiled down at the blonde, neither moving nor releasing her hand or Seven’s.  “Hey,” she said softly. Flat on her back, overcoming major head trauma, Seven still managed to project her ‘look.’  She raised her implanted eyebrow at B’Elanna and replied, “Hello, Lieutenant.” Torres chuckled but inside she groaned.  [This’ll be tougher than I thought]  “How do you feel?” she whispered unnecessarily.  They were the only ones in Sickbay, the EMH offline to give Torres privacy. B’Elanna watched Seven’s thought processes turn inward, evaluate her condition before replying with, “I seem to be functioning within acceptable parameters.  Lieutenant, what has occurred? ” The engineer just smiled and shook her head.  “Figures.  Only you could sustain a near-death blow to the head and be ‘functioning within acceptable parameters’ sixteen hours later.  And I thought I had a thick skull,” she teased, using humor to hide her true feelings.  She had no idea that she was not completely successful. Seven stared intently at the typically volatile half-Klingon.  Something about the Lieutenant was different.  Whereas normally the engineer displayed a cool demeanor toward the former drone, now she was behaving in a manner that was almost tender.  After all, Seven had been awake for two minutes and 43 seconds, and Torres had yet to move her hands.  [I am enjoying these sensations]  The thought was fleeting in the ex-Borg’s mind, but startling nonetheless.  Before she could continue, B’Elanna spoke again. “I’d better get the Doctor.”  She sounded reluctant to relinquish her private time with the drone, and, indeed, she was.  Slowly disengaging her hands and fingers from Seven’s hand and hair, she called out, “Computer, activate the EMH.” “Please state the nature of the medical---oh!  Seven, you’re awake!” exclaimed the pleased Doctor. “Obviously,” replied Seven dryly.  She heard B’Elanna try to muffle a laugh and turned her head back towards the hybrid engineer.  She, too, wanted to continue her time with the half-Klingon.  Something was going on, and she wanted to figure out just what, exactly, it was.  “Well,” huffed the EMH, “you must be fine.  Your ‘cheery’ disposition is showing.”  His tone was heavy on the sarcasm. To be continued...