Dr. Annika Hansen paused outside the guest quarters housing her parents, her insides churning unpleasantly. Since it was midway through the alpha shift, the corridor was empty, giving her a moment to prepare. This was not something she was particularly looking forward to, but once Seven had requested the meeting, it was up to her to arrange it as quickly as possible. Indeed, who knew how long they would remain in this alternate universe, and how much convincing it might require to get her parents to agree to meet with the Borg? Yet, a part of Annika was also very leery about the situation and somewhat ashamed that she had brought the whole thing up. It had seemed like a good idea when she first proposed it, but she had since reconsidered and now was left wondering what she had really been after. Initially, she had merely wanted to shove Seven in her parents' faces, introducing them to a version of herself which their even more self-absorbed counterparts had been responsible for having assimilated, intending that it would somehow shake them out of their smug complacency. She hoped that showing them a Borgified Annika would make them realize that their view of the universe didn't always conform to what actually was.

Her parents' continued distaste for Starfleet was shortsighted and selfish, particularly after all the death Annika had seen of courageous officers fighting to protect civilians just like the Hansens. Yet, even now, with the war on Earth's doorstep, they remained insufferably superior, determined to look at Starfleet as nothing more than semi-literate thugs in uniform. How anyone growing up in the Federation could have arrived at such a conclusion baffled her, even though she had shared it to a limited extent, until she worked with Starfleet personnel during her transwarp project ... until she met Kathryn. She had hoped that Seven could get through their shell of antipathy where she couldn't, and felt guilty for placing that burden on her other self.

There was also the fact that a meeting with the Hansens might not be good for Seven at all. Annika had slowly realized that this had the potential to hurt Seven emotionally, and she wondered if she should have shared her reservations with the Borg. After all, it was easy enough for her parents to hurt her, to make her feel as if she had made all the wrong decisions since being on her own, but what if they did that to Seven? Would Seven, who was not used to deflecting the painful jibes, be able to handle it? For a moment she contemplated turning around, but Seven had requested the meeting and now, Annika was forced to venture down here to deck nine and face her parents in their quarters ... something that she could have easily done without, particularly with things as unsettled as they were.

She took a deep breath and pressed the admittance chime to the door. There was a pause, then the door hissed open and Dr. Erin Hansen stood in the entrance. A slender woman, with golden brown hair laced with grey, fine lines radiating from each corner of hazel eyes, the scientist remained a strikingly attractive female. Annika was aware that a certain percentage of her good looks came from her mother and supposed she should be grateful for that genetic inheritance.

Erin's face tightened as she saw who it was and Annika wondered for a moment if she was actually going to be allowed in.

"Lieutenant," Erin said, her voice edged with more than a little scorn.

"Dr. Hansen," Annika replied, refusing to show how that stung, maintaining a formal and professional expression.

"Ladies," a deeper voice echoed from within. "We promised we wouldn't do this, remember?"

Annika eyed her mother expectantly and Erin stepped aside, granting her entrance. If there was a trace of regret in the woman's eyes, Annika certainly wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she apologized as she entered, nodding briefly at the man sitting on the couch with padds scattered around him. She had acquired her cluttered approach to research from him. "I just came down to see how you are and catch you up on what's going on with the ship," she said, hoping her casual tone would cut through the tension choking the room.

"Why?" Erin asked in an accusing tone. "You've never come to our quarters before. What's Starfleet up to this time?"

"Will you give me a chance to explain before you start another 'Starfleet Is The Enemy' speech?" Annika snapped, her defenses kicking in automatically.

"Ladies!" Magnus said more firmly than when they had started at the door. He looked at his wife. "Whatever it is, is must be very important for her to come down here." Lanky, with curly, blond hair, he regarded his daughter affectionately. "We've been hearing some crazy things," he allowed, setting aside his padd for the moment. "Though maybe not so crazy when you can look out the viewport and see another Voyager hanging there."

"The starfield tells us we're in the Delta Quadrant," Erin noted, sitting down next to her husband and maintaining a stern expression on her features though her tone was slightly less hostile. "What's happened?"

Stifling a sigh, Annika brought them up to date, sketchily describing the events that led them to this point, including some comments on the two previous encounters with the 'other' Voyager.

"So you're saying that in this reality, the other Voyager has never returned to the Alpha Quadrant," Magnus said.

"Exactly," Annika said. She paused. "You should also know, in addition to Captain Johnson and Commander Tuvok, I have my own counterpart here."

Erin blinked and looked even more disapproving, if that were at all possible. "You mean she joined Starfleet even earlier?"

"No," Annika replied, keeping her tone perfectly level. "Apparently the Hansens in this reality were even..." She paused, about to say 'more self-absorbed' and altered it to; "... less prudent than you were when they were studying the Borg."

"What do you mean?" her father asked.

"They didn't take the hint when the Collective first acknowledged their presence. They pushed their luck and ended up being assimilated ... as did their six year old daughter."

If Annika was sometimes frustrated and annoyed by her parents attitudes, she still had to allow for the fact that they were very intelligent and possessed a certain amount of compassion and empathy as well. They recognized right away what that meant, and Erin's face in particular, was stricken by the realization.

"The Voyager in this reality severed my counterpart a couple of years ago, rescuing her from the Collective," Annika continued. "She spent eighteen years as a drone so we don't have as much in common as you might think the same two people would. However," she added, hesitating as she regarded the couple, "Seven of Nine has indicated an interest in meeting you, if you're agreeable."

"Seven of Nine?" her mother echoed.

"That was her designation by the Borg. She doesn't ... remember her own parents very well. I suppose in this reality, you're still drones." She supposed she hadn't really needed to add that last bit, but it was worth it to see her mother flinch a bit. "She prefers to be called Seven."

"Of course," Magnus said, spreading his hands. "We'd be glad to meet her."

"I'm sure she could tell us a lot about the Borg," Erin added. "Things that we never had the opportunity to find out."

Anger flared, though Annika restricted it to her eyes. "She's still a Human being," she said, her voice somewhat harsh. "Nor was she on some sort of research project when she lost most of her life to them."

"We didn't mean anything like that," Magnus rebuked her mildly. "But I'm sure the fact that we studied the Borg so closely will enable us to find a sort of common ground with her."

Annika's mother rose from the couch and moved several steps away, her back to the rest of her family. "Please tell her that we look forward to meeting her," Erin said after a moment, her features still troubled when she turned back to them.

Annika inhaled slowly. "I will. In the meantime, please know that as soon as we've repaired the ship, we'll be returning to our own reality where hopefully, the Dominion forces will have moved on to somewhere else."

"We also heard the captain was injured," Magnus said. "How is she?"

"She's recovering," Annika said shortly, not wanting to get into that topic at all.

"Maybe if she hadn't been so determined to engage in combat, we wouldn't be in this mess," Erin noted. She fixed a look of pleading on her daughter. "Annika, I know you've come to admire the woman immensely, ever since you worked with her on the transwarp project. I realize that you even care about her personally, but surely you can see how her type of militaristic view is exactly the thing that is prolonging this war."

Fury lanced white-hot along the young woman's nerve endings and it took every ounce of will not to say something she would regret. Clamping down on her emotion with a steel grip, she shot a laser glance to her parents.

"I would advise you not to say anything to that effect to Seven of Nine," she said coldly, taking advantage of the opening. "In this reality, she and the captain are married."

The couple blinked, obviously taken aback by this information as well as the obvious anger in their daughter's voice. Annika struggled to regain her composure.

"Married? To the captain?" Erin paused, apparently trying to chose her words carefully. "So she's ... normal? She's not part of the Borg anymore?"

"She'll always be part of the Borg," Annika said. "She still has implants and nanoprobes."

"Oh."

Annika looked at her mother thoughtfully, having never seen that particular expression on her face before. "Um ... for the most part she does look like me, not a drone." That seemed to ease the pained expression on Erin's face slightly. "There is one more thing," the science officer added, feeling the need to protect Seven as best she could considering it was her own selfish whims that had caused this situation in the first place. "When you talk to her, remember that she lost her own parents when she was six. I would ... appreciate it if you would..." She wanted to say 'treat her better than you do you own daughter' but knew that would only be firing photon torpedoes into the highly charged situation. "...be gentle with her," she finished. "I'll let Seven know you're agreeable to meet with her."

Magnus nodded and stood up to escort his daughter to the door. "I don't suppose you'll have a chance to join us for dinner soon," he asked somewhat wistfully. "We've finally managed to end up in the same place and we see even less of you than we did when you were working on Mars."

Annika's first impulse was to refuse, but she swallowed it and nodded. "I'm pretty busy, Dad," she said. "But ... I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," he said, his blue eyes sincere. "I really would like to see more of my daughter than just a passing figure in the corridor and notes on a padd now and again."

She offered him a final nod and left the guest quarters, her thoughts leaving her troubled and uncertain as she made her way back to the bridge.

Completely unaware that a woman was now weeping into her husband's shoulder in the cabin she had just left on deck nine, section four.

Sickbay was quiet, no other patients currently being held there, but the ship's commander, who was fast asleep in the biobed. Janeway passed the time by studying her counterpart, noting the features from which, not even unconsciousness, could fully remove the lines of stress. What-ifs and could-have-beens played around in Janeway's mind for the better part of an hour before the breathing changed and her counterpart's eyes fluttered open. There was a second or two of confusion before the gray eyes focused.

"I don't suppose this is simply a social call," Captain Johnson said dryly, her voice raspy from lack of use.

"I'm afraid not," Janeway said, straightening up and folding her hands neatly on her lap. "You pushed the Janeway luck too far this time."

"I don't like that tone." She eyed her genetic twin warily. "How bad?"

"You've been relieved of duty," Janeway said, not attempting to soften the stark reality. "Tuvok is acting captain until further notice."

"God." Johnson closed her eyes. "Dare I ask how you managed to get here?"

"It actually wasn't a matter of us getting to you so much as it was you coming to us. Apparently you still haven't learned to pick on someone your own size and got caught between a rock and a hard place."

"The Dominion," Kathryn remembered. "We were hit..."

"And Lt. Hansen found herself in charge of Voyager," Janeway finished, knowing the other facts were irrelevant at this point. "Might I suggest having her study some Starfleet command courses? I'm pretty sure escaping to another universe every time one is in trouble is not referred to anywhere in the captain's handbook I got."

"At least she had sense to get us somewhere safe." Johnson said, anger sparking as she defended her lover. Janeway carefully hid her smile.

"Still, she revealed something to the Dominion that perhaps they didn't need to know. You did luck out. Only three species have tried to destroy us this week, so we had the time to give you a helping hand."

"You must have been bored silly," Johnson shot back, resting her hand on her belly. "How's my ship?"

Janeway quirked an eyebrow, knowing that would have been one of her first questions as well, but only after asking about Seven. The fact that Johnson had yet to inquire about her lover's condition was troubling to the extreme. "We don't know yet," she said. "Our engineering team is working with Commander Scott to assess the damage." Her face grew softer, compassion in her eyes as she invited her other to confide in her. "Do you want to tell me what's going on with you?"

"Not yet. I'm too tired and..." Johnson shifted slightly, groaning at the pain. "...my back is killing me."

"What do you want me to tell Annika? Who, by the way, only suffered minor injuries during the attack," Janeway added with enough edge to penetrate the command mask, invoking shame to color Johnson's expression.

The gray eyes turned away. "I don't know," Johnson whispered.

"Well, telling her you love her is a good start, don't you think?" Janeway prodded, becoming aggravated at her counterpart. "When was the last time you did that?"

"I don't think we need to talk about this," Johnson said, her voice cooling.

"Oh, I think we do," Janeway said in an equally cool tone, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because it's obvious that this has been going on too long and frankly, I think I'm the only one you will talk to about this. So we might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible."

"Has it occurred to you that it's absolutely none of your business," Johnson sniped.

Janeway sighed. "From the first second it came up, but since that's never stopped me ... or you ... before, I guess I'm not going to let it stop me now." She reached out and put her hand on the woman's shoulder, offering her comfort and understanding through that simple, physical touch. "Look, I know this is tearing you up inside. More importantly, Pulaski knows it too and she's not about to budge on giving back your command unless you do something positive to solve it. It looks like I'm your only option here."

Johnson continued to look stubborn for a few moments more as Janeway remained silent, patiently waiting for her to accept what was impossible to avoid.

"Fine," the battered captain said finally, obviously not pleased, but starting to appreciate the position she had managed to get herself into. "What was the question again?"

"When was the last time you told Annika that you loved her?"

"Longer than I'd care to admit." Johnson closed her eyes again, honest pain ghosting across her features. "I've been so rotten to her."

"You've been taking her for granted," Janeway agreed, tugging the stool closer and settling onto it. "I used to do that with Seven when we first became lovers. How many times have you missed dinner?"

"Too many," Johnson admitted. "We've been in battle after battle, running off to lick our wounds only to have to go back and do it all over again."

"And the little things like dinner with the woman you love fall to the wayside, right?" Janeway let out a deep breath, wondering if she should point out that some of those constant battles were at Johnson's choice. "I did the same thing for a while, you know. I took Annika's love for granted and never put the effort into the relationship that it deserved. I neglected her needs and wants and never gave her the attention she had a right to expect." She paused, her own remembered pain tightening her throat. "Then that Bajoran orb took her away from me, and a Borg queen and losing my memories..." She took a breath. "Things can change so quickly, and leave you with nothing. It's made me realize what's really important and it's not getting departmental reports done on time."

"My Annika isn't the same as your Seven," Johnson pointed out, becoming defensive once more. "Yours understands what it takes to command. Annika hasn't even tried since we left the Mars project. Now, she just storms out and gives me the cold shoulder, and frankly, our situation is not the same at all. We're at war, dammit. Other things have to come second."

"No, that's too easy, using the war as an excuse," Janeway said coldly, not allowing her counterpart any slack. She didn't dare. "If it wasn't the war, it would be the mission, if it wasn't the mission, it would be duty. If it wasn't duty, it would be something else. Don't forget, I've done the same thing too many times ... before I finally got it through my thick skull that Seven is far more important than any of those things." She was about to add that how their father approached his life was not how they had to live, then decided that was a bit too much too soon. After all, it had taken her a long time to make the connection between trying to please her father and how her actions were actually self-defeating in her own life. Part of that lesson included losing her memories and starting all over again, which Johnson simply did not have the experience to comprehend. So Janeway softened her tone and rested her hand compassionately on her counterpart's shoulder again. "I do know that if Annika and Seven are anything alike, they are remarkably forgiving. Chances are that if you're not being forgiven now, it's because you're not giving Annika the opportunity to try. Groveling helps. Remember?"

"I don't think there's enough ice cream in the world to fix this," Johnson said, her sad eyes gray. "We don't talk, we don't make love, we just keep spending our time going through the motions until we can get back to Earth." She blinked back a tear. "I've lost her."

"Hey," Janeway said softly, squeezing the shoulder beneath her hand. "You haven't lost her. She's been worried out of her mind about you."

Kathryn blinked rapidly, reining in her emotions. "I've made quite a mess out of things, haven't I?"

"In typical Janeway fashion," Janeway agreed before lightening her tone. "Speaking of which, you're divorced now, right? Why the name?"

Johnson gave a small smile. "You know Starfleet bureaucracy. When Mark and I got married it took them six months to get my name switched in the records from Janeway to Johnson. Apparently it takes twice as long to get it back to Janeway. Since all the official channels still have it as Johnson, I've just left it. It's easier on the crew as well. Most of them are just kids and it would confuse them otherwise ... most of them have only known me as 'Captain Johnson'."

"Good old Starfleet," Janeway noted dryly. "We're starting to get messages from them over the MIDAS system. I can't believe all the new protocols and regulations. I've found twenty-five that have been changed since the first transmission." She noted the heavy lidded gaze and decided against telling her counterpart than in their universe, the war was over and had been won decisively by the Federation. Another difference that could hold great significance. "Right now you need to get some rest. A word of advice? Don't think of arguing with the good doctor. I'm surprised she hasn't had you restrained to the biobed yet."

"Another fan?"

"She hasn't forgotten who authored the everlasting limerick There Once Was An Instructor Named Pulaski..."

As bad as Johnson was feeling, she couldn't resist giving a weak conspiratorial smile. "It certainly was catchy."

"That it was," Janeway agreed. "Come on now, get some sleep. Seven and I will take care of Annika for you. I'm sure she'll be in later to see you. One more word of advice?"

"As if I could stop you," Johnson said dryly.

"When Annika yells at you about not being careful, remember that she's been scared out of her wits over this," Janeway said, knowing her own previous tendency to react to Seven's emotion instead of searching deeper to find the true meaning behind it. "She doesn't need reassurance that you're all right now and duty requires danger and the dozen other defenses we're both so good at." She lowered her tone. "What she needs is for you to hold her and tell her that you love her and didn't mean to scare her."

"I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. I'm the captain, remember?"

"I never said you had to. Just apologize for scaring her. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Johnson said in a playful scoff. "I know you. You're too devious."

"Apologize and I'll sneak you a cup of Seven's coffee," Janeway said, glancing over to make sure the doctor was not within earshot.

The other woman's eyes followed as well. "How about two cups?"

Janeway's eyebrow raised as she considered it. "That depends on how well you apologize to her. I'll find out, you know."

"I know. Annika isn't one to socialize and make lots of close friends, but she and Seven seem to get along as well as you and I do. I'm sure what Seven hears..."

"I hear," Janeway finished for her. "Especially when it comes to you two. As my beloved wife says, in an odd sort of way, you two are family to us." She swallowed, pausing as an unexpected surge of emotion lowered her tone. "We can never thank Annika enough for donating her genetic material to us. It was a wonderful surprise and a gift that we can never repay."

Johnson blinked, trying to catch up to the conversation. "I admit, I was pretty surprised when she requested deck five and sickbay instead of the transporter room," she said slowly. "I knew from the expression on both of your faces at dinner that something was up, but she was the one that insisted on asking your doctor."

"I'm grateful she did ... and not just for how it made Annika feel."

Johnson was quiet for a moment. "I can't imagine myself being a mother."

"Neither could I," Janeway admitted. "Now I can't imagine it not being part of Seven's and my future together. Hey, I told you I was leaving five minutes ago. We keep this up and we'll be chatting all night."

"Oh, no you won't," Dr. Pulaski said as she approached. "I think you two magpies have done enough chatting for today. Kathryn," she said to her captain. "You're going to rest now. I'll let Lt. Hansen know when you're awake."

"What's wrong, Lanna?" Lt. Ro Laren asked, sitting back and looking at her Klingon lover with concern as the lights came up to one quarter. Normally, moving their affection to the bed from the sofa was prelude to an even greater form of shared intimacy, but tonight, B'Elanna Torres seemed preoccupied, far from being her enthusiastic self and finally, the Bajoran had decided to find out what was troubling her.

"I'm sorry," B'Elanna said. "I'm just worried about Seven."

"Why? It's not her Janeway that's recovering in that Sickbay."

"It's more than that. I remember what she was like after the Mimic was here." B'Elanna sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. "It was a tough time for her."

Ro reached out and cupped her lover's cheek. "It was a tough time for all of us," she reminded gently. "But we made it through. And I read the logs about the Mimic. What does that have to do with Voyager II?"

"You know Seven's counterpart, Dr. Hansen is there, right?"

"Yes."

"Well so are Dr. Hansen's parents ... both of them."

"Oh." Laren was silent for a minute as the implication sank in. Over away missions and lunches, Ro had come to know her lover's best friend and considered Seven to be a friend of hers as well. "That is rough."

"Seven asked me what I thought about her meeting with them," the Klingon continued, her eyes dark and thoughtful.

"What did you tell her?"

B'Elanna shook her head slightly. "All I could say was that it was better to try something and not have it work out, than to not try at all," she said, glancing at the Bajoran from beneath her lashes. "At least that way, she wouldn't go through life wondering what might have been."

"But this might hurt her as badly as the Mimic did," Ro offered gently. "That's what you're thinking, right?"

"Yeah," the engineer replied. "But at the same time, she has to find out. You know?"

"I do," Ro agreed.

She leaned back against the pillows and rested her hand casually on the Klingon's leg, not enticingly, but rather just to be in physical contact with her and let her know that she cared as they talked. Their communication was not anywhere near as complete and open as the captain and Seven's ability to share their feelings with each other, but both B'Elanna and Ro had been trying hard recently and things were steadily improving between them. It had been a revelation to both of them how taking the time to talk had actually improved their physical and emotional closeness.

"You told her what was in your heart, Lanna," she added. "You can never go wrong with that."

B'Elanna looked vaguely relieved.  "I hope so," she said, but it was obvious that the Bajoran's words had helped.

Pleased, Ro leaned her head back against the wall and idly contemplated the fuzzy blue creature draped over the shelf of a nearby bookcase. She hoped it would not get the urge to launch itself at the couple as it had in previous encounters, but did not have any illusions about its less than benevolent nature. The B'Rethna's claws were much sharper and longer than Terran domesticated cats and Libby was apt to show that particular feature off on a regular basis; B'Elanna's couch, chairs and clothes, mute testament to that. More than once, Laren had to kick in an extra replicator strip to repair her uniform after Libby had gotten hold of it, and she didn't even want to think about the 'present' the skinny blue furball had left in her boots one time, most likely in retaliation for the Bajoran kicking the animal out of the bed.

"You know she's thinking of jumping," she said, motioning with her chin at the B'Rethna.

"She wouldn't dare," B'Elanna said in a warning tone, directing her dark eyes at her pet. "Not after the last time."

Ro, who rarely smiled, let alone laughed, favored her lover with both. "Well, what can you expect when you wake up the entire section by threatening to kill someone?"

"Before or after James' court martial?" the Klingon countered. "Before, they only called security the night I threw half the living room at Tom. Any other time they just figured I was spouting off like usual."

"When you were yelling at the top of your lungs about taking your bat'telh to it and slamming into every piece of furniture in the place, what did you expect? They probably thought you were trying to kill me. They had no idea just how close you were when she jumped on you and forestalled the whole thing. Her sadistic sense of timing has become even more refined over the course of our being together."

B'Elanna eyed her blue furred pet warily. "I think she's mad because I forgot to refill her food dispenser yesterday. She looks like she's up to something."

The B'Rethna in question leveled her big dark eyes at the pair in the bed for several seconds before apparently losing interest and licking her paws. The women maintained their scrutiny for a few moments, not fooled by this in the slightest, then finally decided that for now, the creature was going to remain right where it was.

"So, are you on this other Voyager?" Ro asked, glancing at her lover. "You could always pull what Janeway's counterpart did and pass Libby off before the rift closes."

B'Elanna shook her head. "Nope, apparently in that reality, from what I can dig out from the few that served Johnson for awhile, B'Elanna Torres married Tom Paris and went off to serve on a Galaxy-class vessel," she said. "The USS Liberty."

Ro blinked, a little rocked at that. "I see," she said, the humorous mood of seconds ago forgotten.

B'Elanna chuckled a little and poked her in the ribs. "Don't take it too seriously," she said. "I suspect she'll come to her senses sooner or later."

"One can only hope," Ro said dryly. "I wonder where my counterpart is?"

"Well, as a matter of fact," B'Elanna said casually as she studied her nails, "over on Voyager II."

Startled, Ro blinked and stared at the Klingon in astonishment. "You're kidding."

"Nope," B'Elanna said, leaning back against the pillows. "Scotty told me all about her after I caught a glimpse of you ... er, her ... this afternoon." She grinned. "He wanted to know if you were as much trouble as his was. I told him 'yes', of course." She sobered slightly. "That was before I knew what he meant by 'trouble'. Your counterpart is not a nice person at all, I guess. She's only out of prison because their Starfleet is hurting for experienced officers so badly. Even with the parole, she still wears a security device around her ankle."

"Prophets," Ro swore. "That's not good on any ship. I was never that bad."

"Well, apparently your counterpart is. She does her bridge duty and that's it, according to Scotty. The rest of the time she's in her quarters. She doesn't even get holodeck privileges anymore because she took the safeties off during a battle between her and a half dozen Cardassians. She's been busted back to ensign too."

"She's burning out. What does she want to do? End up back on Jaros II?"

"I don't know," B'Elanna said, moving closer and tucking her head on Laren's chest. "What I do know is that I love you and I'm damned glad I ended up with you instead of her."

"Me, too," Ro said, but she was not really concentrating on her companion, not even when B'Elanna began to nibble her way over her shoulders and chest. She tried to imagine her other self, someone who apparently had not joined Chakotay's Maquis cell and ended up in the Delta Quadrant with the rest of Voyager's crew. A self who had not had the logical ... and healing ... mentorship of Tuvok for six years, then the friendship offered by others. Of someone who had not received a sort of absolution from a captain that Ro had come to admire greatly.

"Hey, where'd you go?," B'Elanna muttered, hugging the Bajoran as she repositioned herself on top of the slender woman, seeking out her lips.

Ro returned the kiss, refocusing her attention where it should be. "Just thinking about my counterpart."

"I'm sorry I brought her up," the Klingon noted. She kissed her again. "What about her?"

Ro exhaled. "Maybe if I talked to her..." she started, then stopped, thinking about it further. B'Elanna waited patiently, watching her closely. "I guess I'd probably only make things worse for her," the Bajoran concluded sadly. "How can telling her how good my life is, make hers any better?"

B'Elanna sighed. "I don't know. Certainly, Scotty didn't seem to think she had much promise."

Ro eyed her. "Oh, he didn't," she said, lightening her tone. "Since when does what 'Scotty thinks' matter so much?"

B'Elanna opened her mouth to protest, then seemed to realize the Bajoran was tweaking her a little and grumbled faintly. The Klingon's hero worship had not gone unnoticed by anyone on the ship, and more than one person had taken the opportunity to nudge her a little about it, particularly Chakotay. She and the first officer had been getting along much better lately, the two having returned to their previous friendship that had been temporarily interrupted by an ill-conceived, if brief, romance. It wasn't surprising that her lover had heard about it as well.

"You don't have to worry," B'Elanna said sheepishly. "We just talk about engineering stuff, you know." She regarded her companion wistfully. "Wasn't there anyone you ever looked up to?"

Ro considered it carefully. "I guess, maybe a few people," she allowed, but she didn't go into specifics and B'Elanna seemed to understand from the tone that it wasn't a topic she should press at this particular moment. The Bajoran shook her head, as if to shake off memories she didn't want to think about at the moment. "How long before the repairs are finished?"

"It's going to take a few more days," B'Elanna allowed. "They really got banged up by those fighters. It's a good thing we were here."

"I don't think it was an accident," Ro remarked. "From what I understand, the altered transwarp stream keys on our warp signature, matching it to open up the rift wherever we are. Otherwise, they'd just pop out into the Alpha Quadrant of this reality. They must have decided they'd rather be out here in the Delta Quadrant than there in the Federation."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess," B'Elanna agreed. She nuzzled the Bajoran. "So, you wanna talk some more?"

Ro smiled. "You have something else in mind?"

"Several things," B'Elanna told her.

"Show me."

"With pleasure," the Klingon murmured, rolling herself on top of Laren and using her mouth to claim those incredibly soft Bajoran lips. Ro's answering moan of approval and the strong legs that wrapped themselves around the engineer's hips pushed B'Elanna's smoldering passion up another notch. "Kahless, but I love you." she said as her lips began to work their way down Laren's neck. "I love that you took a second chance on me." She moved down further, feeling Ro's dark curls pressing against her belly while her lips gently grazed the hardening flesh atop her lover's breasts. "I love that you hung in there."

"Oh Prophets," Ro gasped when B'Elanna's lips closed around her nipple, the firm tongue rasping over her sensitive flesh.

"I love the way you sound," the Klingon continued, kissing her way down the flat muscled stomach. "I love the way you taste, the way you feel..." Her tongue passed over one of the very few ticklish spots her lover insisted did not exist and B'Elanna had to smile at the quick jerk and the strangled sound that came from Ro's mouth. "I love that too," she added with an affectionate smile, giving the offended area a quick kiss before settling herself between Laren's legs.

"You're being awfully verbal about your feelings tonight," Ro observed as her fingertips gently brushed over the proud ridges on B'Elanna's forehead.

"Just making sure you know how I feel," the engineer said, nuzzling her lips against the dark triangle of hair. "Mmm, I love this too." Feeling extra adoring tonight, she reversed her route with the same languid pace to work her way back up the Bajoran's body where she resumed her attention on the delicate ridges radiating from Ro's nipples.

Libby, who had been watching all this intently from her perch on the top of the bookcase, decided it was time for her to get her revenge for being stepped on in the middle of the night one too many times. With a graceful leap, the B'Rethna sailed through the air, claws on all four feet fully extended. It was a perfect landing, the blue animal's back claws catching B'Elanna's bare back while her front claws found a slightly more sensitive place on Laren.

"What in Kahless? Libby!" B'Elanna yelped and tried to roll off her lover, which was a big mistake. With half of Libby's claws in her back and the other half in Laren's front, trying to move only resulted in both of their skins being shredded by the sharp B'Rethna claws as Libby took off for cover. The Klingon felt the thin rivulets of blood trickling down her back as she watched matching wounds form in the most painful of places on her lover's chest.

"Prophets!" Laren cursed as she sat up and pressed the sheet to her skin to ebb the bleeding. Part of loving someone was loving their pet but at the moment the Bajoran was seriously considering which plasma vent to eject the blue furred animal out of as B'Elanna found her comm badge and made a call to sickbay. It was not the first time Libby had managed to catch both of them with her flying attacks. It was not even the first time they had to call Sek in the middle of the night to come patch them up with a dermal regenerator, the Doctor having been banned from B'Elanna's quarters after the first time he had come to the rescue and made one of his usual commentaries. Since that time, Sek had been the one to take care of them, and even as Ro was pressing the blue sheet against B'Elanna's back, she heard the faint whine of the hologram's matrix materializing across the room.

"Libby! If I get my hands on you, I'm gonna feed you to Jake!" the Klingon growled, alerting the hologram as to what had called her out this night.

"Looks like a direct hit," Sek said as she walked across the room and saw the pale, pink blood soaking through the sheet. She knew better than to comment on what the two women were so obviously doing before Libby decided to interrupt. "Just lie still, B'Elanna."

"Check Laren," Torres said. "Libby got her worse than she did me."

"Lie still," Ro said firmly, pressing her free hand down on an undamaged part of her lover's back. "You know the back claws are longer."

It took several minutes for Sek to heal up the slices on B'Elanna's back and slightly longer to fix Laren, mostly because the holographic medical assistant had to go slowly and carefully over the ridges of sensitive flesh that were damaged, much to Ro's embarrassment. The mood obviously lost, B'Elanna threw on fresh clothes and retrieved Laren's robe from where it had been haphazardly tossed on the lounger that morning.

"Do you want me to leave you a dermal regenerator?" Sek asked as she made the last pass over Ro's breast and moved away.

"No. I just have to figure out what I'm going to do with the carcass," B'Elanna growled, glaring at the underside of the bed where she knew the cantankerous B'Rethna was hiding.

Both Sek and Ro looked appropriately concerned.

Dressed in lounging robes and little else, Seven and the captain snuggled on the couch after lingering over a long dinner, talking about inconsequential things and simply enjoying each other's company. The past few days had seemed fraught with emotional land mines as they helped repair the other Voyager, and it was with relief that they were able to return to their quarters and each other at the end of their duty shifts to compare notes before tackling it all over again the next. In fact, they had made it a point to relax once they logged out, changing from their uniforms as quickly as possible and putting on clothes that were as out of keeping with their roles on the ship as possible. It occurred to the Borg that being in contact with their counterparts made what should be a normally routine rescue mission far more draining on them than would otherwise be the case. She wondered what Sek would say about it, but unfortunately, she hadn't had a chance to speak with the ship's counselor much, lately.

Indeed, with the time Sek was spending with various crewmembers of Voyager II fresh off a war zone, which their Federation had become, dealing with extreme cases of post-combat fatigue, it was unlikely the Ocampa would have any time for her regular patients as long as the two ships occupied the same reality. Pulaski had been quick to take advantage of having a counselor around, sending out a strong suggestion to a lot of her crew to avail themselves of the opportunity. Janeway's crew, understanding the situation, readily gave up their normal appointment times so their counselor could help their sister ship's crew. Privately Seven wished Sek could find the time to sit down with the other couple and help them, but unless that happened, it was up to her and Kathryn to make things right.

"Dr. Hansen says that she and Captain Johnson have not made love for quite some time," Seven said as she cradled the captain in her arms, nuzzling the auburn hair gently.

"Mmm, Johnson told me the same thing," Janeway noted, resting her head against her partner's shoulder, her back supported by the strong, yet yielding cushion of the young woman's chest and stomach. Their legs entangled comfortably on the sofa and Jake made himself a fuzzy, rust ball at the other end, draped over their bared feet. "But that's to be expected darling. Relations in the bedroom usually seem to go wrong in these cases long before other things do."

"Yes," Seven agreed, brushing her lips tenderly over the captain's temple. "When we are unhappy for whatever reason, we stop making love. Sometimes it takes very little."

"Unlike us, they aren't the type to look beyond their words to figure out what's really at the heart of the matter," Janeway added thoughtfully. "Johnson acts much as I did three years ago, only she's been beaten down more by some of her decisions, including the disasterous marriage to Mark and taking that desk job. She loves her Annika, but she either isn't sure how to show it or she's too afraid to show it. I haven't quite figured out which."

"Annika is confused by that perceived lack of caring from the captain," Seven responded. "She tries so hard to reach out and continues to be rebuffed, but rather than confront Johnson logically as I would you, she hides her hurt and displays anger instead. She tries to match Johnson's temper which is a mistake." She paused and smiled. "No one matches the Janeway temper."

The captain laughed. "They've managed to get themselves in a real tangle, love. Do you honestly think we can help them straighten it out?"

"I know we will," Seven said confidently. "When did you last have the opportunity to speak to Captain Johnson?"

"This afternoon, in sickbay," Janeway sighed, taking her partner's left hand in her own and stroking the flesh between the metallic mesh tenderly. "Remember, I said you were the second person to want me to speak to Johnson. Dr. Pulaski also thought that I could get through to her where others couldn't." She paused, thinking about it. "I will tell you this, Johnson is deeply depressed and it's more than just the situation with Hansen."

Seven considered that. "Annika told me that Captain Johnson had received a personal communiqué at approximately the same time they were given their current orders." She raised her eyebrow. "Annika did not know what was in it, but Johnson's desire for distance and their problems increased significantly after that."

Janeway looked thoughtful, even as her fingertips continued to idly stroke Seven's palm, sending tingles of pleasure through the Borg despite their conversation. Seven wondered if her partner even realized what she was doing as she mused over the information given her.

"Then I guess my next task will be to find out what was in that communiqué," the captain muttered, almost to herself.

"No," Seven corrected, letting the fingers of her right hand slip into the opening of Janeway's robe at the neck, sliding languidly along smooth warm skin until they were brushing over a small bump which hardened rapidly beneath her touch. She swirled her fingertips slowly around the small circle, feeling it pebble as the captain's body responded to the stimulation. "You may help them with their relationship tomorrow. There is someone else who requires your attention tonight."

"Oh, and do I need to guess who that someone might be?"

"I suspect you do not," Seven told her firmly, making Janeway laugh.

The Borg smiled and kissed along the line of Janeway's neck, continuing to stroke the velvet soft skin of the captain's nipples, moving back and forth between them with lavish pleasure as they closed their eyes and took the time to simply appreciate the caress, both the giving and receiving of it. They both knew where this was headed, aware that there was no need to intensify it immediately. Slow was better, an easing into their passion as they would a leisurely hike in the country, paying as much attention to the journey as any destination they might eventually reach.

Neither of them were pleased when the sound of the door chime interrupted their intentions, and Janeway muttered a low curse as Seven sighed and withdrew her hand.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Janeway asked fretfully, disengaging herself from Seven's warm body and padding across the living area, pulling the neck of her robe together. "Who is it?"

"Lt. Torres."

"Come." At the command, the door opened to reveal a very agitated Klingon holding a specimen cage and a bag.

"Seven," B'Elanna growled, focusing her dark eyes on her best friend, who had reached out and intercepted the couple's dog, doing her best to keep a grip on Jake's collar as the large ball of rust covered fur desperately tried to get at the B'Rethna in the cage. "This is all your fault."

"Explain," the Borg replied. "What is all my fault?"

Still fuming, B'Elanna set the cage on the floor and shoved the bag in Janeway's hands. Crossing her arms, she glared at Seven. "You're the one that wanted to get this thing for Naomi's birthday. You're the one who won it at the booth and it was your dog that caused it to lose its home with Harry. Therefore, you're the one who's going to deal with it." She looked at Janeway and gestured at the bag. "Here's the toys that she ignores, the scratching pad she never uses, the leash that she detests and her bowl, which she is sure to turn upside down if the offering isn't suitable."

"But what of the mental bond you share with her?" Seven offered weakly.

What B'Elanna said then was not fit to be repeated and the Borg blinked with surprise. It had been unusually vulgar, even for the Klingon nor had Seven ever expected it to be uttered in the presence of her partner who raised an eyebrow, a look of almost admiration in her bluish grey eyes at the sheer inventiveness of the curse

B'Elanna glared at them both. "Have a nice night," she spat. With that she turned on her heel and stormed out.

Janeway looked at her partner as Seven looked thoughtfully at the creature scratching at the grill of her cage. The Borg raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps it is my fault," she allowed. "Certainly B'Elanna was accurate in her assessment of the situation."

"Annika, we are not going to have another pet in these quarters," Janeway said in her best intractable tone, the voice she used when she was absolutely determined not to be thwarted. She dropped the bag on the couch and gestured at Jake who was still wiggling anxiously, though Seven had let him get close to the cage in order to sniff it, undoubtedly in the hopes that it would calm him down. "It's simply impossible."

"What will we do?" Seven asked, agreeing reluctantly with the captain's view.

Janeway looked at her dog, bestowed upon her without warning during her return from an alternate universe years ago. She adored the Irish Setter utterly but did not deny that her life had grown far more complicated with him as a part of it.

"Leave that to me," she said, her gaze becoming lidded.

Seven looked at her and shivered slightly as she recognized the tone and knew it boded ill somehow. She sighed again, then, as Jake seemed to settle down somewhat, now that he and the creature could exchange sniffs, she cautiously released him.

"Jake," she said in a stern tone. "Leave."

He glanced up, his ears flattening, but he offered the creature a final sniff and moved obediently away. Seven exchanged another look at her partner, then picked up the cage, moving it over to a spot behind the kitchenette counter, up out of the dog's reach.

Seven contemplated it briefly, her fingers placed through the grill so that she could scratch its head. "Kathryn," she began hesitantly, "you are not going to ... entertain a terminal solution, are you?"

Janeway's eyes softened and she smiled. "Not at all, darling," she reassured her. "I know someone who will be the perfect match for the little thing." She paused. "But it has to be a surprise, so don't let on to anyone that we have it."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "A present?" she asked, her voice lightening. She liked presents, both the giving and receiving.

"Yes," Janeway said. "A present."

"Still, the B'Rethna can remain in its cage for only a few days," Seven noted. "Any longer and it may cause itself harm."

Janeway nodded. "I know. It should only take a few days. I know it won't be particularly happy, but it'll be fed and watered and we'll take it out every so often so it can play." Her eyes softened as she regarded her partner for another moment, then her expression grew sensual. "In the meantime, I believe we had our own playtime scheduled before it was so rudely interrupted."

Seven blinked, then as she realized what her partner really meant, she returned the sensual look and drifted over to the captain, resting her hands on the slender waist and looking down into pools of bright sapphire. "I enjoy playing with you."

Janeway tilted her head, a sly smile on her face, her eyes deep and dark. "I know," she said quietly. "That's why it's so much fun." She tugged on the tie which secured the slinky black robe. "Take me to bed, darling," she demanded, her tone dropping to a husky trill. "Play with me the rest of the night."

"Gladly," Seven remarked and without any warning, she picked Janeway up in her arms and carried her off to the bedroom.

Janeway laughed and nuzzled her partner's ear, her arms wrapped joyously around Seven's neck. "Do you know how much I love it when you do that?"

"Yes," Seven responded with a small smile. She dropped Janeway on the bed and the captain looked up at her affectionately, her robe having fallen open to reveal the length of legs and auburn triangle which the Borg raked with her eyes. "Are you aware of how much I enjoy doing it?"

"I can guess," Janeway replied, leaning back on her elbows. She made an imperious motion with her head, demanding in its bearing. "Come here."

Seven raised an eyebrow, refusing to move. "Why?" she asked dryly. "As B'Elanna might say, 'what is in it for me'?"

"Oh, I think you already know what's in it for you," Janeway said, deliberately bending her knee and parting her legs to reveal even more of what was waiting for her partner. Her eyes smoldered with explicit promise and the Borg felt her heart rate increase significantly.

However, Seven took her time to enjoy the view, pretending to carefully consider the offer as if she had been made many in the past hour and was having difficulty deciding which would be the most satisfying.

"Sufficient," she allowed finally, untying the cord around her waist and slipping out of her robe which she dropped on the lounger behind her.

"I'll give you 'sufficient'," Janeway growled, reaching up to pull Seven down onto the bed, rolling them over until she was on top as any good captain would be. Sitting up so her weight was on her knees, she covered Seven's full breasts as best she could, enjoying the way they spilled out beyond her outstretched fingers, the nipples jabbing into her palms. "Now these wonderful handfuls are what I would call sufficient. More than sufficient in fact."

The Borg smiled, helping the captain shrug out of her robe and tossing it aside before turning her attention to the captain's smaller, but just as firm bosom, stroking the brown circles with tantalizing slowness. "Do you like them, Kathryn?" she asked with studied innocence, knowing full well she did. "Do like touching them?"

"I love touching them," Kathryn replied firmly, smiling as she squeezed the swells tenderly. "In fact, you've given me a whole new appreciation for the female form." Leaning down, she kissed Seven hotly. "Now let's see how I can show my appreciation for your form in particular."

Chuckling, Seven wrapped her arms around the captain and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. She absorbed herself in the wonderful flavor of her partner while her hands moved restlessly over the smooth skin of her back and sides. It caused Janeway to shiver from the mix of warm flesh and cool mesh, the contrast always serving to please the captain. Seven, in turn, loved the feeling of her partner's flesh pressing so sweetly against her own, the way the firm nipples prodded into her so provocatively, the way the captain's wetness slid slickly over her navel. She wormed her right hand down between them, seeking out that tiny bundle of nerves, and Janeway moaned happily as she settled onto Seven's fingers, moving her hips against the swirling fingertips.

"Do you know what you do to me?" she whispered huskily in her partner's ear. Her eyes were a deep blue, warm and full in the night as she lifted up to look down into her partner's face, pinning her with her gaze.

"I do," Seven responded, intensifying her fondling, moving her fingers rapidly over the hard little ridge. "Which is why I enjoy doing it."

Janeway laughed, deep and wantonly, and Seven watched her intently, loving how the captain's face changed in her passion, how it looked at once predatory and completely helpless at the same time. Janeway's lips were drawn back from her teeth and her smile was sensual as she looked down into Seven's eyes. She spread her legs wider, offering greater access to her partner, rocking forcefully against her.

"Go inside," she urged breathlessly.

Obediently, Seven moved her hand, finding the moist opening and plunging two fingers deep within her partner, awed as always at this intimate touch, these clinging walls that were so accepting at the same time. Janeway gasped and groaned, abruptly throwing her head back as she uttered cries into the night, words of love and passion mixed with others, guttural and provocative. Seven pushed deeper, making Janeway raise up a little so that she could get her other hand betwen them, the metal tips of her fingers vibrating slightly as she sought out the hard little ridge, pressing against it.

"Oh, god, yes," Janeway cried out, her breath a sob as she gripped Seven's shoulders with bruising force. "Oh, darling ... oh, yes ... deeper ... oh..."

Seven thrust her fingers as far as she could into her beloved, immediately rewarded by pulsations which fluttered around her fingers, the captain shuddering helplessly in that oh, so brief period of sheer ecstasy before collapasing weakly on top of the Borg, clinging to her. Seven watched Kathryn swallow against a mouth gone dry from her panting, licking her lips slowly, the very picture of feral satisfaction.

"God, that was wonderful, darling," she said in that wonderful husky voice. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Seven said politely and Janeway chuckled. Seven carefully withdrew, bringing her arms up to surround Janeway in a loving hug, pulling her closer.

Janeway nuzzled the Borg's throat, nibbling at the soft hollow at the base. "What can I do for you, love?" she murmured. "What do you need?"

"Use your mouth on me, Kathryn," Seven demanded, knowing how much Janeway liked it when she asked for specifics. "Pleasure me with your lips and tongue."

"Gladly, love," Janeway told her, pleased and aroused by the request as she lifted up to regard her partner hungrily. "At once."

But the captain took her time, lingering over every millimeter of skin until Seven was nearly insane from it. Janeway seemed to spend hours on the Borg's breasts alone, licking and nibbling at the tender skin, making the rosy tips so hard they ached from the amount of delight she was providing. When Seven finally felt Janeway trail down over her stomach and through the triangle, she thought she would explode from sheer relief. The captain's warm mouth covered Seven's wetness, rewarding her for her patience, plunging deep within the intimate flesh, making the Borg cry out softly as she held the head to her with one hand, the other groping for the steel bar at the head of the bed. Metal squealed as Janeway laved the young woman with lusty strokes, her lips and tongue touching every part of Seven's most intimate region, including places that she normally did not go. Aggressive in her passion, Janeway provided a loving assault that quickly and completely overwhelmed the Borg, forcing her to surrender completely to Janeway's unquestionable adeptness at pleasuring her.

When the captain finally crawled her way back up the Borg's lanky form, she displayed the familiar, faintly smug expression on her face that always amused Seven when she saw it. It was almost as if Janeway somehow questioned her ability to please her partner at times, and when she proved to herself ... yet again ... that she was more than capable of skillfully fulfilling her partner, it was a source of great satisfaction to her.

Seven kissed her, tasting her own flavor on the captain's lips as Janeway happily settled on top of her.

"Are you tired, Kathryn?" she asked when they parted.

Janeway raised an eyebrow rakishly. "Why? Did you have something else in mind, my insatiable Borg?"

Seven chuckled, holding her partner tightly as she rolled them over, pressing down on her insistently. "Would you object to anything that I might have in mind?" she countered. "Particularly if it involved an accessory?"

Janeway blinked and her smile widened. "Not at all," she said, the invitation accepted readily. "By all means, darling."

"Let us see what this night really holds in store for us."

"That's not exactly what I meant." Janeway adjusted her position on the stool, looking down at her counterpart. Various parts of her were still a little sore from the night before and she wondered if she was going to be able to survive this continued demand from her spouse. It was entirely possible that the indefatigable Kathryn Janeway had finally met her match, and she decided that she'd better get this mission wrapped up before Seven discovered that fact. "I meant, how do you feel? Emotionally."

"I'm fine," Captain Johnson said quickly.

"You know, you might be able to lie to yourself but you can't lie to me. Try again."

"I'm not one to sit and analyze myself," the injured captain protested. "You, of all people, should know that."

"You should," Janeway replied evenly, knowing her own tactics well enough to avoid them when shown by her counterpart. "You need to look at what is bothering you, what you're afraid of, before you and Annika can move on."

"Move on to what?" Kathryn asked. "We barely speak and when we do it always ends up in an argument. She spent most of last night sitting here giving me hell about taking chances. Kate was right in her office the entire time too, and I'll bet you a load of latinum she didn't have the soundproofing on."

"Would you have?" Janeway asked, already knowing the answer.

"Anyway," Johnson said, giving her double an ineffective glare. "It's as I told you yesterday. Annika and I are different than you and Seven. I can appreciate that you want to help, but with Annika and me..." She shook her head. "We just can't seem to work it out anymore."

"Why? Give me an example," Janeway demanded.

Johnson rubbed her forehead. "All right. We were in the middle of an asteroid belt 50,000 kilometers long with a class seven ion storm on our starboard. On top of that, we were still trying to get breaches on decks four and seven repaired, then of course, I forgot her birthday."

"Ah," Janeway said. "Let me guess. She threw dishes at you."

"Oh no, that isn't Annika's way. The good Doctor Hansen insists on ranting at a level that I'm sure exceeded the soundproofing in my quarters before storming back to her own quarters and not speaking to me for a week. I was humiliated, particularly on the bridge where her disdain for me was so apparent."

"But ... didn't you go after her immediately and apologize?"

"Of course not. I told her I was sorry at the time of the initial argument, but ship's business is ship's business. She didn't want to accept that. Of course, she took it out on me for the rest of the week."

"Now I see why Seven used to get so upset with me," Janeway said ruefully. "You deserved to be punished for a week. If you weren't just three days from having almost died, I'd give you a good slap across the head myself, right now. Why didn't you go to her the next day and tell her that you were a fool and that you'll never miss her birthday again?"

Johnson stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "Because it's better to give her a few days to cool off before I see her," Johnson explained patiently, as if to a child. "She'd rather yell, then just let it go and we move on."

"After you freeze each other out for a week? That's efficient." Janeway restrained a sigh, suspecting that this was just another convenient excuse for her counterpart in order to avoid the real problem. She wondered what she could say that would get through to her, frowning as she thought.

"At least you knew where she was that week after missing her birthday," Janeway pointed out finally. "My Annika left for an away mission and I saw her shuttle explode. It was three months before I discovered she wasn't dead." She looked down at her hands, the old pain still sharp within her, a constant reminder to her to cherish her partner. "That's when things changed with us," she said, trying to find the words that the other woman would understand. "After Seven came back. I received a second chance and I swore I wouldn't waste it. You know it takes only a little programming to make your padd remind you of important events like birthdays and anniversaries."

She managed a bit of a conspiratorial smile.

"It fact, you'd be amazed at how good it looks when you remember the anniversary of your first kiss."

She smiled secretly to herself, remembering with fond satisfaction just how Seven had rewarded her for it ... especially since it had also been the anniversary of their making love for the first time. She might think she was sore at the moment ... but she could scarcely move after that particular night.  The next day, she had barely managed to get through her shift, doing her best not to fall asleep in her captain's chair while she covered the bridge and hoped that no one noticed how she stared, mesmerized, at Seven during the staff meeting.

"Annika has gotten involved in projects that keep her away, too," Johnson defended, but it was a weak sort of effort. Perhaps she was getting through after all, Janeway thought.

"When she does, do you make sure to let her know you love her and are thinking of her, even if you can't be together?" Janeway pressed. "Just because Seven and I are married doesn't mean we don't need to take the time to woo each other. When was the last time you gave Annika a gift just because you wanted to make her happy, not because you were trying to make up for something or because it was expected?"

"I don't 'woo'," Johnson said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And that's why your current relationship is going the way of your previous ones," Janeway said, feeling only a little guilty at the sting in her words. "You ... we," she corrected, "both of us ... worked very hard to keep everyone at bay, to wear that command mask of ours like the knights of medieval times. Don't let anyone see anything less than Captain Kathryn Janeway, daughter of an Admiral and on a career track moving faster than warp speed. We kept everyone outside, locked everything up deep inside until it ate away our own Humanity. When was the last time you cried?"

"Help me sit up," Johnson said, gesturing at the controls. She waited until her back was more vertical than horizontal before answering the question. "Alone or in front of someone else?"

"Both."

"Alone, in my ready room, the night before the last battle."

"And with someone else?"

Johnson gave her a sad smile. "You know," she said quietly.

"When we were in the cave on Mars," Janeway guessed correctly. "You've never cried in front of Annika?"

"Well, maybe once or twice after..." Johnson's face flushed slightly.

"That doesn't count." Janeway hopped off the stool and stepped away for a moment to collect her thoughts. "That isn't crying, that's just too much pleasure to deal with." Absently she noted Sek was in the office talking to Dr. Pulaski, the hologram much better at tact and diplomacy than the acerbic Doctor, and she wondered what they were talking about. Probably the shell-shocked crew of this Voyager, she guessed. "You know Katie, it won't kill you. It may hurt for a while, but it won't kill you," she said, drawing her eyes away from the office.

"You want me to cry in front of Annika? I think you've been spending too much time with your holographic counselor, who by the way, I don't want to come within ten meters of me anymore." Johnson shot a glare in Sek's general direction.

Janeway was appropriately concerned. "Did you tell her anything?"

"It is kind of boring lying in this bed staring at the ceiling all day," Johnson said dryly. "She tricked me."

Janeway pulled the stool closer and resumed her seat. "How?" she asked, lowering her voice so it did not carry into the office.

"I didn't know at first that she was your ship's counselor. I just assumed she was still the holographic medical assistant as she was the last time our universes crossed. She started talking about her life on Voyager, how much of a village it's become, that kind of thing." Johnson raised an eyebrow. "There is not a snowball's chance on Mercury that I would willingly take command of a generational ship, by the way. How you're doing it is beyond me. Anyway, I don't know how she did it but before I knew it, we were talking about Indiana and Mom and Phoebe and we even chatted about the Academy."

"When the hell did you figure it out?" Janeway asked with some trepidation, more than a little concerned that so much of her personal history was now known to the ship's counselor.

"The instant she tried to steer me into talking about Daddy. I gave her the look and she backed right off."

Janeway's lips quirked into a smile. "I've given her that look before. It's quite effective when I have to shove her back into line." She rubbed her forehead, deciding she needed to change the subject, certain she did not want to know exactly what details had been shared with Sek. "And yes, I want you to cry in front of Annika."

Johnson's face became still. "Why?"

"Because that's the easiest way to open up to her," Janeway said gently. "Let's be very clear, here. We couldn't stop ourselves from falling in love with Annika Hansen any more than we could voluntarily stop breathing. But that's where you stopped, Katie. You let her in, felt her love and gave some back in return, but that was it. You're not willing to give it all to her and until you do, you're just going to stay in this miserable place until she can't take it anymore and leaves you." She rested her hand on Johnson's knee. "Just do it, Katie. Have Annika hold you and turn the lights down, and just talk to her until it comes."

Sad gray eyes watched the activity in the office for a moment before turning back to Janeway. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"Then, it's a good thing you're stuck in this biobed because I have plenty of suggestions," Janeway said, hopping off her stool and retrieving a portable table containing a padd and stacks of data chips. "These are some copies of my personal logs since Seven and I became a couple. I hope you find something to help you by reading what happened with us and how we got through it." She deliberately did not mention that some of those data chips were not logs at all but the letters she had been exchanging with her mother and Phoebe. Seven had relayed the information Hansen had told her about the strain between Johnson and her mother. "Now you have something to occupy your time."

"Thank you so much," Johnson said dryly. "I thought I might actually get caught up on some paperwork."

"Not while you're relieved of command," Janeway reminded. "Speaking of command, care to share your authorization code?"

Johnson allowed a small smirk. "How many times did you guess?"

"Twice. You know one more causes a report to go to Tuvok."

"On my ship it goes to Lt. Lessing, he's in charge of security. Why do you need to get in the top files?"

"Simple curiosity?" Janeway offered, hoping the other woman would believe the poker face she was showing. "I just wanted to see what was going on in your Federation."

"Not a chance," the recovering captain said. "Anything critical to the ship would have automatically been transferred to Tuvok when he took formal command."

Apparently the poker face did not work. "All right, what was in that communiqué?"

Johnson flinched. "Nothing that concerns anyone on Voyager."

"That's where you're wrong, Katie. Look at who you're talking to. You can't fool me any more than I can fool you. Whatever is in there, has been bothering you for weeks, hasn't it? That's why you've been on this drive to go after the Dominion regardless of the sacrifice."

"How's Harry Kim?"

"You're darting the question," Janeway pointed out. "But he's fine. Married Megan Delaney and has a beautiful baby boy."

Johnson smiled. "That's really nice," she said wistfully. "I wish my Harry had been able to have his future." She looked away, her eyes focusing on a far wall. "The Federation is losing the war," she admitted. "We're building transwarp capable ships as quickly as we can, but between the sheer numbers against us and the lack of capable pilots, we just can't get the upper hand. Our shields are good, better than they've ever been but it's not enough to keep us in the thick of a fight long enough to inflict any substantial damage before their reinforcements arrive. The Federation just can't afford to send out five and six ship patrols."

Janeway nodded, understanding from years of experience just what was happening. "Is there still a chance the Federation can win?"

"Possibly the same way every war is won; build them faster than they can blow them up, make our weapons and shields stronger and get some experienced pilots to fly the ships." Johnson's face grew clouded. "But as each day passes, it seems more and more unlikely. The Liberty was lost in a Jem'Hadar ambush."

It took a few seconds for the information to sink in. "Wasn't that the ship your Tom and B'Elanna were on?"

Johnson nodded. "Tom, B'Elanna and Ensign Vorik. Out of the 131 people I brought home, over fifty have been killed by the war so far. Owen Paris sends me communiqués to keep me informed. He's keeping a close eye on the advance for me, and if it gets too close to Earth's system, he has the means necessary to get Mom and Phoebe to safety." She looked over at the office, double checking to make sure she wasn't being overheard. "It's gotten to the point where they're looking at expanding the nanoprobe research to see if there's a way to assimilate the ships into useless lumps of metal like the probes did when they were in the wrong quantum signature. The problem is, we just can't figure out how to keep the nanoprobes active in the rifle casing or phaser banks before we fire them at the ships we do want them to assimilate."

Now Janeway was truly tempted to take a smack at her genetic double. "It was Annika who figured out how to convert the nanoprobes in the first place. Why would you keep her in the dark about this?"

"Because we don't have the research facilities or the equipment to work on a project like that on Voyager, and this is where she's posted." Johnson's eyes shifted away, shamed. "Anyway, Starfleet already has a team of over a hundred physicists and scientists working on the original data in a facility twice the size of the area allocated for the original project. But they're getting nowhere." Johnson rubbed her eyes and sighed. "That's why her parents are on the ship. They're going to Deep Space Five for a military conference and part of it is seeing if there's any way to use the Borg physiology we know about in designing weapons to defeat the Dominion."

"They're exobiologists, so any contribution Annika's parents might make would be in the form of ... biological weapons." Janeway's face went still. "Using nanoprobes as a viral agent of some sort on the Dominion soldiers?" She didn't like it, but since she had been prepared to use such weapons herself in the past, she couldn't very well get self-righteous about the moral implications now. "Do they know that's what they're going to be asked to do?"

Johnson gave a short laugh, devoid of humor and filled with more than a little bitterness. "Not a chance. They only know they're being given the opportunity to work on a project involving Borg technology. That's all most of the scientists going to the conference know right now. It's a good thing too, I don't need to listen to any more of the Hansens' tirades about the evil imperialistic Federation or how I'm just a puppet for Starfleet. I get enough of that from their daughter." She paused, thinking about what she had said and added sheepishly. "Actually she's been much better about Starfleet and the Federation since the war heated up. At least she hasn't been yelling at me about it, but I don't think she could forgive Starfleet ... or me ... for utilizing her parents' knowledge this way."

"But maybe Annika has come to understand just what the Federation means to her and everyone she knows. I doubt even her parents would want to live under Dominion rule, and I'm sure everyone recognizes that it's Starfleet that's going to win or lose the war. Why don't you just ask them?"

Johnson looked bleakly at the foot of the biobed. "Starfleet doesn't work that way, anymore," she said sadly.

Before Janeway could respond to that, there was motion from the office and both women looked up as Pulaski and Sek exited. To Janeway's surprise and Johnson's obvious relief, Sek merely nodded in their direction and left the medical center without stopping to talk. Pulaski made her way over to join the two Starfleet captains.

"Kicking me out?" Janeway asked.

"Kicking you both out," she said. "At least, today for you, Janeway. Tomorrow morning for your partner in crime there."

Johnson looked vaguely pleased, but not entirely so. "What about my command?" she demanded sharply.

Pulaski hesitated, shooting a quick glance at Janeway before fixing Johnson with an implacable expression. "I didn't remove you from command because of your physical injuries, I took it away because of your mental state, and since that is now being treated by our friend here, she'll let me know when you're fit to resume command." She motioned at Janeway with a quick jerk of her thumb. "In other words, Captain Johnson, it's not me that you'll have to convince anymore, it's your counterpart and somehow, I don't think she'll be an easy one to fool when it comes to how you're really feeling. You won't be able to hide behind a rank with her."

Janeway felt the implication of what Pulaski said impact harshly, knowing exactly what it signified in terms of the responsibility just handed her. She glared at Pulaski as the medical officer strolled away, every millimeter of her radiating abject satisfaction. Then she became aware of being under someone else's scrutiny, and she turned to look into steel-grey eyes and forced a bit of a sly grin, displaying an expression of firm resolve.

"So," she said dryly, with a casualness she was far from feeling. "I guess that means you have all day tomorrow to convince me. Otherwise, I guess I'll have to let Sek have a go at you."

Seven of Nine stood for a moment in front of the door, controlling the feelings swirling within her with an effort of will she had never known she possessed. Knowing it would not do to enter with her emotions in such an uncontrolled state, she needed to be in command, to handle this with the same competence and composure she believed her partner would utilize in a similar situation. She did wish, however, that she had managed to run into Sek at some point as her thoughts were more jumbled now than when she had interacted with the Mimic. Except this time, the people on the other side of the grey door weren't impostors, or shapeshifters or aliens, they were the exact same people as her own parents, simply with a different path taken in their lives. Their blood was her blood and it was going to take steel in hers to make it through this encounter.

Taking a long, slow, deliberate breath, Seven tried not to notice her finger shake as she touched the door chime. Her enhanced audio capabilities clearly heard it echo briefly inside, then she detected the softer sound of footsteps crossing carpeted deck. The door hissed open, and Dr. Erin Hansen stood there, alive and well, older than what the Mimic had appeared as, but then, that was to be expected. The Mimic could only replicate what Seven's mind had imagined, not what time and varied life experience would actually do to the woman.

Seven was entirely certain that if it were not for her nanoprobes, she would be face down on the floor right now. As it was, she swayed slightly, and felt her pulse pound in her temples, throbbing around her eyepiece.

"Dr. Hansen?" The Borg's normally clear tone was higher than usual, an effect she blamed on her racing heart and respiration that threatened to cause hyperventilation. It was an effort to maintain her Borg shell which had served to hide her true feelings so many times before.

Erin stared at Seven, the hazel eyes wide and astounded. "Oh," she said, shaking her head a little as if to physically reimpose her will on herself. "You must be Seven of Nine. Come in, please."

"Thank you," Seven said politely, still rigidly controlled as she entered the quarters. Her footsteps faltered a little as she saw the man standing uncertainly by the table. This was not the drone caricature the Borg queen had displayed so sadistically to Seven, but rather the man her six-year-old self remembered from so long ago, the man who tucked her in bed and told her stories about other beings, a little older, a few wrinkles, a little grayer at the temples, but with the same, kindly blue eyes. Because of the Mimic, she had been somewhat prepared for Erin. She was not at all prepared for Magnus.

"Doctor," she managed. She stopped in the center of the room, linking her hands behind her back as she regarded the couple. Erin had moved over to her husband's side, taking his hand and unconsciously, he wrapped his other arm about her shoulders. The silence stretched on awkwardly as Seven endured their scrutiny, regarding them with intense scientific curiosity.

They were somewhat smaller than she had expected, a part of her thought dispassionately. Neither was as tall or as imposing as her anticipation had indicated. Indeed, she was almost as tall as Magnus, her eyes level with his nose. She practically towered over Erin.

Magnus started. "I apologize for ... staring," he said finally. "I'm not sure what we were expecting."

Seven tilted her head. "I too, am uncertain," she admitted carefully. She took a breath. "I do not ... remember my parents very well. Bits and pieces of memory surface occasionally, but for the most part, I do not know them... you." She decided she would not refer to the Mimic at all. That encounter would simply confuse an already entangled situation.

Another silence, then Erin cleared her throat. "Uh, would you care to sit down ... Seven?"

Seven actually preferred to stand, but she was aware that things might go easier if she took a seat. She nodded and gingerly sat in the chair positioned opposite the sofa. Erin and Magnus sank down on the couch, both leaning forward slightly.

"Would you like some tea?" Erin asked.

"I do not require liquid refreshment at this time," Seven said, wondering if she should have accepted instead. Her precise tones and body language were obviously making the couple uneasy, but she was not prepared to alter either for the time being.

"Annika ... our daughter told us that you wished to meet us," Magnus remarked. "May I ask why?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "In truth, it was her idea," she said. She searched for something else to say. "Perhaps she felt that meeting you would allow me some resolution to my own situation."

"Resolution?" Erin asked.

Seven hesitated, wondering how to explain. She decided to go with the truth as much as possible. "Because I did not remember much of my parents, I did not possess the same sense of family ties that the average Human would," she said slowly, working it out as she went along. "As I developed from the drone I had been, I began to create emotional links with others, friendships, and eventually, a romantic involvement."

"With Captain Johnson's counterpart," Erin said, and there was just the slightest hint of disapproval in her tone that she probably wasn't even aware of, so ingrained was her antipathy for Starfleet.

Seven pinned her with a laser look. "Kathryn Janeway severed me from the Collective. She took me from being a drone and taught me how to be Human again." She saw the sting of the word 'drone' on Erin's face and deliberately gentled her tone. "In doing so, she and I forged a bond stronger than either of us expected. We fell in love."

Seven shifted her eyes to the male Hansen, trying to judge how he was reacting to her story. His eyes were clouded, as if deep emotions were swirling about inside but the rest of his face was gentle and she continued. "As I developed all these relationships and emotional ties, I began to appreciate family bonds. I discovered that I was ... resentful of the actions my parents took during my childhood that resulted in my assimilation. Of the fact that they had been so intent on achieving their own goals, they did not allow for their child's well being. Recently, an incident brought those feelings into the fore, making them even more difficult to deal with." She took a breath. "Kathryn and I plan to expand our family unit in the future. I do not wish to be the sort of parent that places my own needs above that of my children. I believe that by working out my emotions regarding you ... or rather, my parents, I can resolve these uncertainties about the sort of parent I will make and proceed with my life." She wondered if this was actually what she had hoped to achieve with this meeting, but it seemed so right as she was speaking that she thought that it must be.

"I think that I ... just wanted to see you again, as you might have been, in the hopes that it would bring closure to this part of my life," she said softly. "I apologize if that has unduly upset you."

Dr. Hansen finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had fallen over them all. There were tears in Erin's eyes, making them shine, and Magnus swallowed visibly several times, as if needing to clear a tightness in his throat.

"And does it?" he asked gently, his voice huskier than before.

Seven stared at him blankly. "I do not comprehend the question."

Erin reached out and touched Seven's hand lightly. "Can you say good-bye to them now?" she said, more precise in what this all might really be about.

Seven was impressed by their prescience. That had not actually occurred to her, but now that it had been mentioned, she realized that was exactly why she had required this meeting ... to finally say good-bye.

Seven considered it carefully as she stared at the point where her and Erin's hands touched. "Yes," she said. "I believe I can," she said quietly. "I have learned that it is all right to love them, and even to miss them, but it is time to let them go. To let go any residual anger I might have regarding them." She regarded them both with a little less Borg distance and a little more of her true self. "Thank you for indulging me in this. It was a kindness you did not have to engage in."

"We're just glad we could help," Magnus said. His mouth was twisted a little, as if he was tasting something he didn't much like. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Seven invited.

"Do you know if your parents are still part of the Collective?"

Seven tilted her head. "I had the opportunity to see my father after I was severed," she explained. "The sphere he was on was crushed in a collapsing transwarp conduit. I must assume that he is dead. My mother..." She paused, swallowed. "I am unsure if she even survived the initial assimilation. Some do not. The only way for me to determine if she is still part of the Collective is to rejoin with it. In that event, I would no longer care if she existed so it would be a futile plan in any event." She took a deep breath. "It is a difficult reality to accept but I must."

The exobiologist rubbed his face with his hand, and stared down at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said. "I ... for everything. You have every right to hate them ... us."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I do not hate you ... or them," she noted with surprise. "Resentment is not the same as hate." She paused, wanting for some reason, to comfort this couple who were obviously distressed by her words. "Indeed, I have come here to try to work past that resentment as well." She inhaled deeply, searching for some way to explain herself. "I have a friend, Naomi. She is six years old. She once told me that sometimes things are too big for parents. That it was doubtful that either of them intended to cause me harm. I realized that I must forgive any hurt that was unintentionally caused."

"Nonetheless, harm was done," Erin said, an edge to her tone. Seven eyed her curiously. The woman seemed angry and she wondered at whom? Her counterpart?

"It is still forgivable," Seven pointed out gently. "Only if harm is continued, even after one sees how much one's actions hurt, is one truly to blame." She noticed that Magnus seemed very upset, his head turned away.

"Excuse me."

He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Erin and Seven alone. Seven wondered if he was going to weep and if so, why he felt the need to leave. Was he ashamed of showing his tears in front of her?

"Are you sure I can't get you something to drink? Tea perhaps?" Erin attempted to ease the terse silence which had fallen between them.

Seven considered the request and decided that, since it was the second time it had been made, Dr. Hansen truly wanted her to drink something. "That would be acceptable," she said. "Herbal tea, if you have it." Her hunch once again proved right as Erin quickly went to the replicator and programmed the instructions in.

"I have to be honest," the older woman said, facing away from Seven. "I wasn't sure what to expect when Annika said you wanted to meet us."

"I also was unsure," Seven allowed, her eyes never leaving Erin as the tea was brought to the table and the older woman sat down. "I was concerned that you would refuse, but I was also quite apprehensive that you would accede to my request."

Erin gave her an understanding smile. "I know the feeling. Annika didn't really tell us much about you." Her eyes fell to the untouched cup in front of Seven. "Have you ever had tea?"

"Many times. Kathryn enjoys coffee, but I prefer herbal tea since caffeine interferes with my cortical implant. Kathryn says it makes me hyper." Seven considered why the question was asked. "My digestive system is fully functional."

"I'm sorry," Erin said. "I didn't know ... I wasn't sure if..." The intelligent scientist found herself having to take a moment to compose her thoughts. "You still have implants. I'm not sure what you can and cannot do." She reached across the table and gently touched Seven's right hand. "I don't want to offend you with my ignorance."

"My cortical implant controls my nanoprobes as well as the other implants including my biogenetic material. I may yet lose some more as I become more Human, but some are required for the rest of my life. They are a part of who I am."

"Your eye?" Erin ventured hesitantly. "That's an optical implant, isn't it?" Seven nodded. The older woman looked at the mesh covered hand resting on the table. "May I?" Taking it in her own, Dr. Hansen ran her fingertip over the bands of metal. "Your hand too," she whispered sadly, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry," she said, releasing Seven's hand and sitting back. "It's just so hard to believe that we could have let this happen to our daughter, no matter what the universe."

"It was an arrogance," Seven remarked calmly. "The innate sense of superiority that their way must be correct and everyone else must be wrong." She smiled faintly, easing the harshness of her words. "It is a trait that I believe I inherited in great measure. Certainly, Kathryn has mentioned that it is ... or was ... one of my more irritating qualities." She took a sip of her tea. "Certainly, I have caused myself difficulty with such arrogance. But what I most regret are the people I hurt by insisting I knew what was correct when indeed, I was lacking sufficient information to make such a determination." She raised her eyes, pinning Erin with her gaze. "Of what comfort is being 'right' when the people I cared for were hurt by it? Some of the greatest lessons I have learned in resuming my Humanity are the art of compromise and acceptance of others, particularly with those I love."

Erin looked away, coloring slightly, and Seven wondered if her words were somehow hurting the older woman, which was not what she had intended at all. She was relieved when she heard footsteps from the bedroom and she looked up as Magnus returned, his face clear, his eyes dry, though slightly reddened. He was carrying a binder of sorts, thin sheets of metal that, when opened, displayed dual screens on the inside. Seven recognized it immediately as a 'photo album', capable of containing as much as a gigaquad worth of images.

"I thought you might like to see this," he said, handing it to Seven uncertainly. "It's of Annika." He shook his head and made as if to withdraw it. "I'm sorry, that was a foolish idea. I can't imagine what I was thinking."

"No," Seven said, quickly reaching out to take the binder from him. "I would enjoy viewing these." She regarded Erin. "Perhaps if you would assist me by explaining what I am looking at?"

"Of course," the woman said, a touch of eagerness in her voice.

Seven obligingly moved over to the couch and perched between the couple, Magnus on her left and Erin on her right, as she activated the album. The first series of images were of a very young Annika Hansen, and they skimmed through them quickly. Seven had a similar album back on Voyager that had been salvaged from The Raven, though she had only started to look at it recently, after her encounter with the Mimic. The images tended to force memories to rise from the grey mists of her mind, some wonderful, but others that made her hurt and cry helplessly in Kathryn's arms late at night, so looking at it was something she did only sporadically.

Seven and Annika's life had paralleled exactly until the age of four and it was the images taken after that which most interested the Borg. Fascinated, she witnessed the evolution of Annika Hansen's life, through birthdays and other holidays, of her schooling and formal pictures taken during proms and other important milestones. Many of them showed Annika Hansen receiving numerous awards and honors. Seven stopped on an image showing a teenaged Annika sitting on a horse. "What is that?"

"A horse?" Erin asked.

"No," the Borg said, pointing at the red bumps on Annika's face in the photo. "Those injuries."

Both Erin and Magnus laughed and Seven realized she made a faux pas. "Annika had a tough time with acne when she was younger," Magnus said. "We tried every treatment the doctors suggested, but she was just one of those rare girls where medical treatment couldn't seem to keep it under control."

"It is a disease?" Seven was aghast at the idea of such an affliction. "What cure did you find for her?"

Erin patted Seven's hand. "Acne is a condition caused by hormonal changes occurring during pubescence. The only cure when the hyposprays and creams don't work is time. Annika grew out of it when she was about nineteen or so."

Magnus advanced to the next set of images, showing Annika at the same age but instead of being on a horse, the teenager was standing at some sort of a party wearing a dress that Seven decided she would not be caught dead in. The look on Annika's face mirrored Seven's assessment of the aesthetic quality of the dress. "That was a father/daughter dance held at Daystrom," he explained. "Since I was an instructor there and she was a student, it was expected that we would attend."

"My mother picked out Annika's dress," Erin said.

"It is most inefficient for dancing," Seven noted, doing her best to be polite about the vile looking garment.

Magnus laughed. "That it was. Not that Annika would be caught dead on the dance floor with her father and his two left feet."

Seven recognized the slang term, having heard it more than once from Ro in regards to B'Elanna's ability on the dance floor.

"Personally I thought the dress was just awful," Erin confided. "But that was the style back then."

"I concur with you," Seven said, earning a smile from Erin. Privately, the Borg saw a benefit in spending that time in a maturation chamber. She advanced the pages of the album again, stopping on the image of Annika's graduation from the Daystrom Institute.

"Kathryn says that the Daystrom Institute is only for the 'brightest' students and the most brilliant scientists."

"It is," Erin said.

"Annika is very intelligent," Seven remarked. "You must be very proud."

"We are," Magnus said, exchanging a look with his wife that the Borg missed entirely.

Seven nodded. "I would like to think that my parents would have pride in me if they were able to see me now," she said wistfully. "Annika must appreciate hearing such things from you."

There was a silence, and she glanced over at Erin who had her head bent, teardrops glistening on her lashes. "Dr. Hansen?"

Erin cleared her throat. "We don't tell her very often," she said. "And certainly, Magnus has told her far more than I ever have in her life."

Seven blinked. "Indeed?" she queried, confused. "Why?"

Erin shook her head. "At the moment, I don't really have a good reason."

"Are you not proud of her?" Seven persisted.

"Of course," Erin said, then raised her head, her face hardening. "But she's made some choices in her life that we don't necessarily agree with."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware that I must approve every decision my future children will make," she said with complete astonishment. "I was under the impression that I must simply do my best to guide them when they are children and trust that they will be good people when they are adults." She paused. "Kathryn says that it will not be our place to define who are children will be, but merely give them the tools to hopefully make themselves happy as they mature." She turned her head, looking back and forth between the two. "You have an alternative way of parenting."

There was a silence. "Yeah," Magnus said finally, his tone harsh. "We try as hard as we can to force our child into our own image and never stop telling her how disappointed we are when she dares to break out of it."

Seven considered that. "It seems ... inefficient," she allowed uncertainly. "But I am Borg, so perhaps I will not be a good parent after all."

"You'll be a wonderful parent," Erin said fiercely, swallowing hard as she turned her head to look at Seven, her hazel eyes swimming. She reached out and grasped Seven's wrist, holding it intently. "You're a wonderful person, Seven of Nine. I know in my heart that you'll be a wonderful parent."

The Borg was completely at a loss at how to respond to that.

"Thank you," she said finally, feeling it inadequate, but not knowing what else to say.

She truly felt as if she needed Kathryn's advice now, but feared it would have to wait until she returned to her own ship. Until then, she would just have to work her way through the rest of this very confusing encounter on her own and adapt to whatever happened as best she could. Absently she began turning back the files in the album until she found the image of the dance. "Did she ever dance with you?" she asked the man sitting next to her, an image coalescing briefly from the mists of her memory.

"At the dance? No, but when she was younger, we danced a lot. But by the time she was a teenager, I guess I stepped on her toes enough times that she knew better." He cocked his head, looking at her thoughtfully. "Do you dance, Seven?"

"We often have 'dance night' on Voyager. Kathryn has taught me many types of dance including the waltz and the tango. She loves to dance and I have achieved an appreciation of it as well."

Magnus smiled. "Well, I'd most certainly fail at the tango," he said, Erin giving him an agreeable smile. "But if I could?" He stood up and held his hand out for her in silent invitation.

"That would be ... acceptable," Seven managed, surprised and nervous about the offer as she allowed herself to be led to a relatively clear section of the living room. Magnus took the lead, his hands resting loosely on her waist as a brief word to the computer initiated the music which played in a familiar rhythm. This close, Seven's eidetic memory stored away every detail of his face, every wrinkle, the gentle look in his eyes, the nose that was so much like her own. The scent of his cologne was stronger now than when they had been sitting on the couch and memories came to her unbidden, of being five years old and sitting on her father's lap while he told her a story or held her after she had a bad dream.

"You wear the same cologne," she noted softly.

"Yes I do," he said with a gentle smile. "You always did like that scent."

"Yes," she agreed as more memories flashed. "I had forgotten."

Seven did not resist when he pulled her closer, urging her to rest her head on his shoulder as they danced. Her eyes closed, she did not see the tears glistening on his cheeks or the sadness etched in every line of Erin's face. Indeed, Seven was in a place and time far away from here and now ... when a six year old child was dancing playfully around the bridge of the Raven with the father she adored.

She frowned faintly, realizing that with Johnson getting out of sickbay the next morning, that did not leave much time to reunite the couple's counterparts. A part of her laughed at the delicious irony of her playing matchmaker yet again for her other self, while another part wondered if she was doing the right thing. After all, it had taken an amazing combination of events for her and Seven to have found their way to each other. It didn't necessarily follow that it was meant to be for herself in another universe.

Then she remembered the look in Johnson's eyes and the way Hansen had reacted to the captain's injuries, and she knew she would never forgive herself if she gave up at this point. She sighed, finished the last dregs of coffee in her lucky cup, and checked the chronometer, noting that her duty shift had finally come to an end. Of course, as captain, technically she was always on duty, but since being married, she tried to maintain a regular routine whenever she could, for her spouse's sake if not her own. Though, if she was forced to be honest, the knowledge that there was someone like Seven waiting for her in her quarters made it a great deal easier to log off and put non-crucial tasks aside for the next day. Her priorities had altered significantly since falling in love with the young woman and there was not one part of her that hadn't come to believe it was truly for the better.

Her crew must have thought so too because as she left the ready room, she noted a rather wistful grin on Chakotay's face as he accepted her nod, all they required now to indicate the shift change. He would stay on a little longer, make sure the beta shift was settled, before logging off himself, no doubt to have a quiet dinner in the messhall before retiring to his quarters.

She felt for him, but he had made it clear he was not interested in any help she might be able to offer regarding his love life, so she returned the grin and stepped into the turbolift, raising her head to mutter a quiet "deck three" to the computer.

She was a little disappointed to see that Seven had yet to make it home, and a quick check with the computer revealed that 'Seven of Nine was no longer on Voyager', meaning that she was undoubtedly on the other Federation vessel. Janeway swallowed her disappointment and moved into the bedroom where she changed out of her uniform and into a simple t-shirt and trousers. She came back out into the living area where she released the B'Rethna ... after making sure her quarters were secure from any quick escapes ... so that the little catling and Jake could have a brief romp.

It was fortunate that their babysitting chores with Little Harry had required the couple to place any breakables out of reach or remove them from the quarters totally. The two animals wasted little time in disassembling the living area, the B'Rethna taking the high road, flowing over the back of the couch, the chairs, along the shelves and desks, while Jake tore around the deck. Janeway prudently retreated to the relative safety of the kitchenette, standing behind the counter as she cleaned the cage and refilled the food and water dish.

By the time she had finished, the two animals had finished their initial, insane tear and were now wrestling happily in the middle of the floor, though how two creatures of such size disparity could wrestle with any success was beyond her ... yet, they seemed to be accomplishing it quite nicely. For a moment, the captain actually entertained the thought of keeping the furry creature, then Libby abruptly broke loose and took an astonishing leap up over the workstations, then high on the wall where she rebounded off some shelves, scattering a half dozen knickknacks in her wake, and Janeway immediately got over the urge.

After cleaning up the broken pieces and securing Libby back in the cage, she had come the conclusion that she couldn't wait to pass the furry little nightmare on to someone far more deserving.

The door hissed open as she tossed the last of the mess in the recycler and she glanced over to see her partner enter. One look at Seven's face told her more in one second than a thousand words could in an hour and without speaking she enfolded the young woman into a tight embrace, holding her tightly as the Borg trembled violently.

Continued in Part III