He tells her that identity is sometimes not in the part of the brain that thinks, that her body lives lower down and close to her spine.

She believes he is being kind, even though she knows that it is not in his nature. Her mind *is* human, and sometimes irrational.

For example, she has fallen in love with him, even though he is barely real. Her body wants only rarely--it is Borg, her body, only rarely acting human, for brief moments--but her head wants him desperately.

Intimacy and desperation are so very close when she looks at them in the dark.

She scents the humans and aliens and that is a kind of intimacy; she cannot scent him because he has no scent. She does not mind.

She does not much like to be touched. He can touch her without truly touching her; slot his body into hers without overwhelming her with sweat and sex and the too-close intimate behavior of real people.

It feels real, or real enough to make her sick after it's over, but her mind knows the difference. And she does love him, really love him, and he knows not to touch her when she hurts afterwards, when intimacy and desperation do their slow empty dance in the dark.