Seven blinked in confusion, unsure of how she had come to this place, aware that she was forgetting something fairly important, but unable to put her finger on exactly what. Her mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton, and it took an effort to realize she was sitting in a chair, cushions wrapped around her body with remarkable comfort. Across the table littered with candles, a Cirrilean woman regarded her with bright emerald eyes. The colorfully dressed female had a deck of oversized cards that filled her hands. 
Seven swallowed. "Where am I?" she asked in a rusty voice. 
"You are safe here," the woman said in melodic tones. "There is a great darkness looming. I saw it easily, hovering above you as you sat on the bench." 
Seven frowned. The bench. There was something about that she needed to address, but it kept slipping away from her. 
"Explain."
"I shall reveal your futures to you," the woman said. 
"'Futures'?" Seven echoed, quirking an eyebrow. "I was unaware there was more than one for me." 
"There are many, but two of such significant difference diverging from a single moment that I could not help but see them in your aura." 
She placed a card down on the table. Seven looked at it and saw at an image of some indecipherable being holding a set of what resembled scales. 
"A decision," the woman said, her voice lowering, threading around the Borg. "One made soon which shall result ... how? Choose a card." 
"I beg your pardon?" Seven raised an eyebrow. 
"Choose a card," the woman snapped impatiently. 
Unable to resist, Seven reached out, hesitated, and then selected a card at random, flipping it over as she placed it on the table above the card already there. It was dark, black, a humanoid skeleton standing upright, a dark cloak wrapped about it as it held a long implement with a blade that curved away, sharp and deadly. 
Seven caught her breath, her heart pounding, fear flooding through her though she did not understand why. 
And she was abruptly elsewhere.

​

The captain's blood spilt hot over her arms and hands as she carried Kathryn to sickbay. The transporter system was down, Voyager's bridge crew struggling to restore the ship's integrity field. Seven's breath came in stabs of agony, her ribs aching from where she had been thrown into the aft tactical station, but she dared not let it slow her. She staggered through the doors into the medical bay that was pure chaos, the biobeds filled with casualties and more arriving every moment. 
"Doctor," she cried as she carried her partner across the room.
He looked up from a patient and it seemed his face blanched when he saw who Seven bore in her arms.
"Here, Seven," he said urgently as Sek, his medical assistant, helped a less injured patient off the bed to a nearby chair. Seven laid Janeway down with exquisite care, feeling helpless and frightened beyond belief as she saw how Kathryn's head lolled impossibly limp on her neck.
"Step aside, Seven," the Doctor instructed, nudging the Borg away as he bent over Voyager's commander.
Seven stood with her hands clenched, watching as a sick fear rose in her throat like acid, her breath coming in pants. It seemed an eternity before the Doctor paused in his ministrations, shot her a look, then as if requiring an effort beyond measure, he straightened and shut off the machines.
"No," Seven said in a barely audible voice.
"I have other patients who need me," the Doctor said, able to spare only a few seconds. "I'm sorry Seven. More than you can know."
"But my nanoprobes," she began. "We can restore her---"
"There's too much damage, Seven," he said, reaching out to hold onto her arms tightly. "There's nothing to restore."
"No," she screamed as she struggled against his grip and it was only the fact that he was a hologram that her left hand was not ripping his right arm off at the shoulder. "I have to go to her. I have to save her."
"Sek," he cried.
Seven frantically tried to pull away from his grip, tried to lean away from the other hologram who pressed a hypospray against the Borg's neck. Then there was only darkness.
When she woke, the sickbay was quiet, the lights brought down to indicate night watch. Seven blinked and what had happened crashed in on her like a flood, agony as exquisite as a knife's edge slicing through her without mercy. She sat up, sweeping the sheet away from her as she got to her feet, ignoring it as it fell to the floor. She looked around, seeing only other sleeping patients and the shadowed forms of the Doctor and Sek in the office. They were not looking her way and she knew they had thought that she would remain unconscious much longer, underestimating the ability of the nanoprobes to purge her system of the drug.
She left the bed and walking as if asleep, she went into the auxiliary room where she knew what she would find. There were sheet covered forms here, the glitter of stasis fields around them, awaiting their final disposal after a respectful memorial service. There was also a stasis tube, the same type as those the crew had slept in during the ship's crossing of a nebula infused with deadly radiation. But the inhabitant of this tube was not asleep.
Shivering, Seven touched the controls and the plexiglass window slid back, allowing her to look down into the still face of her partner. Unlike the others, Janeway's remains would not be shot into the nearest star. Instead, they would be carried reverently for the rest of Voyager's journey, returned to Earth no matter how long it would take to get home. The ship ... her crew ... owed the captain that much.
Seven's fingers trembled as she touched Kathryn's cheek, feeling not the warmth of smooth skin, but chill flesh, waxy, almost unreal. This was not Kathryn, not her partner. Not the woman Seven had loved with every fiber of her being, with every molecule that comprised who she was. That person was gone, leaving behind her partner without so much as a chance to say good-bye.
The Borg's heart shattered within her, into so many distinct and individual shards of pain that she knew that they would never be able to be reunited, would never again beat with any semblance of human feeling.
"Kathryn," she whispered, a breath of complete and utter despair passing through lips that would never again know her kiss, would never again say the three small words that had meant everything.
Janeway was gone, and Seven knew she would never hold her again, would never be a part of her life, would never have her be a part of hers. The mere contemplation of such a life was totally and completely unacceptable to Seven. She could not bear to exist with such a gaping wound in her soul, could not imagine existing another moment in this terrible reality.
Moving silently, barely able to think coherently, she left the sickbay through the aft exit into an auxiliary corridor, moving like a wraith through the ship until she reached the nearest airlock. Mechanically, she cycled the lock, after disabling the alert to the bridge, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Her fingers shook so hard that she could barely key in the commands to begin the decompression sequence, and the hiss of escaping air was like a blessed relief as she sank to the floor, leaning her head back against the hull. It would be over soon. The air would be completely removed, leaving a vacuum that would activate the outer seal, opening the interior to the emptiness of space. By that time, she would be unconscious from the lack of oxygen, and death would be quick.
"Annika, what are you doing?"
Seven raised her eyes with an effort, time stretching interminably as the air grew thin, her lungs instinctively sucking for every molecule of oxygen, unaware of the brain's conscious decision to stop the pain. Kathryn, whole and hearty stood there, looking down at her with a distinctly disturbed expression on her classic features. The analytical part of Seven's mind noted that the lack of air was not disturbing her partner at all, and the Borg decided that this must be a hallucination of sorts, the desperate illusion of an oxygen starved brain. It pleased her and she smiled, content that her last seconds would not be as lonely as she feared, that she would in fact, not die alone after all.
"You can't do this," Kathryn said, kneeling next to her, raising her chin with her fingers, looking into her face with those marvelous warm blue eyes touched with just a hint of grey. "You promised me, Annika. You can't give up now. I won't let you."
Seven found it difficult to speak, her throat thick and full.
"Do not ask this of me," she mumbled finally.
"I don't want you to do this, Annika," Kathryn said softly. "You have your whole life ahead of you."
Seven shook her head weakly, lolling on her neck. "Not without you." Tears filled her eyes. "Please Kathryn. Don't make me live without you. Take me with you."
"You will be with me ... someday," Kathryn promised gently and it seemed her face took on a glow. "But not now, my darling. There is still too much for you to do, to see, to experience. Please don't do this."
Seven's eyes slid shut. "Too late," she whispered, hearing the clunk of the door, knowing her time was up.
They found her unconscious. Barely able to override the decompression cycle in time, the group led by Lt. Torres who had staggered from her quarters where she had been sprawled in a drunken slumber. The chief engineer never told another living soul what had awakened her, that she had sat up abruptly with the words of the captain fresh in her ears: "She's in airlock twelve, B'Elanna. Save her from herself." 
B'Elanna knew that was impossible because the captain was dead and Seven was in sickbay, sedated from the horrible shock, all of which had caused her drunken stupor in the first place. Yet, somehow the Klingon rose from her bed, tapping her communicator to alert the others as she raced through the corridors to arrive barely in time to save her friend.
Who was not the slightest bit grateful.
 
Seven was kept in sickbay for a week, then tentatively released to resume her duties though she refused to go back to the cabin where she and Kathryn had lived. Every member of the crew kept her under surveillance, sensing that to lose her as well would be too much for Voyager to bear, but the young woman did not attempt to commit suicide again. 
She moved into cargo bay two where Neelix set up a cot for her without being asked. She did not feel anything, did not care that the crew was looking out for her. It was unnecessary for them to be so concerned. Kathryn did not want her to die. Seven would do her best not to disappoint the woman she loved, just as she always had, though she was completely unable to understand what she had done so wrong to be condemned to such a horrible existence. Seven functioned, but as a machine functioned, hardly sleeping and eating, spending all her conscious hours at work at her console.
It was the cruelest of ironies that she made the final breakthrough in the slipstream drive less than three weeks later. In the dark of night, the equations she had been searching for so long suddenly became clear to her, and without emotion, she sent her findings to the bridge, and then lay down on the cot, closed her eyes, and surrendered to unconsciousness.
Voyager's return to Earth was a celebration tempered only slightly by the fact that the ship had returned without its captain. Seven was immediately claimed by Starfleet Command, kept in isolation by Starfleet Intelligence as they picked her brain clean about the Borg Collective. She did whatever was requested of her, ignoring the passing of time as the debriefings went on and on, and the rest of the universe moved on without her. Then one day, Harry Kim, now wearing three pips, two gold and one dark, came to her and told her that Voyager was being overhauled to be sent back into space, having been held in the Utopia Planetia shipyards until Starfleet decided its final fate. He also told her that if she did not finish cleaning out the captain's quarters, then Starfleet would have to, and perhaps Seven would come to regret that later even if she didn't yet feel ready to do it now.
Having acquired all the information her Borg brain could offer, Starfleet Command readily released Seven into Harry's custody, and she accompanied him out to where their old vessel orbited Mars, passively awaiting its next incarnation. Kim remained behind on the shuttle as she beamed on board, the corridors echoing with cold silence as she walked through them to the door of the captain's quarters that hissed open with unnatural loudness.
She faltered as she entered, unable to stop the memories from crashing down on her, the pain walled away suddenly set free to spread through her without restraint. She put her hand on the kitchenette counter that was covered by a thin layer of dust, blinking back the tears with a supreme effort as she kept the sobs from escaping her chest, refusing to break down; afraid that once she did, she simply wouldn't be able to recover.
It took a few moments before she was able to look about, noting that the tables, the shelves, and the work desks had been cleared of ornamentation, and she realized that all the things she and Kathryn had acquired had been packed away. She discovered several shipping containers sitting in the corner where Jake had kept his toys, his bed and the personal device that she had so painstakingly trained him to use. It occurred to her suddenly that she wasn't even sure where the dog was now, and she tried to comprehend what had happened to him. She supposed finally that the Wildmans had taken him, or that one of the crew who had been assigned to take care of him had adopted him. She hoped he was happy where ever he had ended up, though there was a part of her that didn't really care much.
She steeled herself and went into the bedroom, relieved to see the bed stripped of linens with only the bare mattress left. She doubted that it was even the mattress they had slept on, since ship's stores was sure to have replaced it when she had moved out. The quarters were just so empty, devoid of all signs that she and the captain had ever been here, and she found that she was grateful, relieved that perhaps this would not be as difficult as she had anticipated.
For several long moments, she looked out the window above the bed at the stars, before drifting into the ensuite for a final check, just to make sure that nothing had been left. She was surprised to see the closet doors held open, and supremely horrified to find that not everything had been packed after all. She supposed that this was a measure of respect on the part of whoever had packed up, that no one had wanted to touch these, that perhaps they had wanted to leave them for her to deal with. As she stood there staring at the long white wedding gown, and the white and black Starfleet dress uniform hanging limply from their respective hangers, both covered with a fine sprinkling of dust, it seemed the most unspeakable sort of cruelty instead.
The few remaining pieces of her heart which she hadn't even know were left, shriveled into tiny bits that were so small as to be nonexistent.
Tears spilt from her eyes as she blindly reached out, taking the Starfleet dress whites into her arms as she sank to the floor, curling up on the cold tiles, burying her face into the stiff cloth that still smelled of Kathryn even after all these months, still had the captain's fragrance clinging to the fabric. Seven sobbed until she ached, cried until she could not breathe, until there was nothing left inside but the terrible emptiness that was her only legacy of a love she thought would never end. She could not hug the garments close enough to her body, could not keep the reality from tearing her soul to shreds, could not control the terrible weeping until finally her body simply stopped on its own, too drained to feel any more emotion.
Much later, she was able to place the carefully folded outfits neatly into the top of a container filled with the rest of their clothing. Then she placed the Starfleet comm badge she had been given for just this purpose on the top of it, instructing Utopia Planetia control to beam the stack of containers away to a storage locker that had been arranged on Mars where she had been staying while undergoing her debriefings. Then she sat down on the chair and looked around with eyes that were as dark and still as a stagnant pond in the moonlight.
For just a second, she thought she could hear the echoes of another time, of a life where passion reigned and happiness was the norm, and she listened intently, straining to catch the slightest sense of what she had once had. But there was only silence and defeated, she dropped her eyes, looking at her hands folded neatly on her lap, realizing that she had no idea what she should do next. This was no longer her home, but she did not know where she could go to find a new one ... or even if she wanted to. She only knew that what she did want was denied her, that she was not allowed to carry it out because by doing so, she would let Kathryn down in some terrible, final way.
On the trip from Mars to the shipyards, Harry had filled her in on the rest of Voyager's crew, how they were now scattered about the quadrant, all finding some way to move on. While the Starfleet crewmembers picked up on careers interrupted by their diverted tour of the Delta Quadrant, the Maquis had been pardoned through a deal made with Chakotay. Those who wished to continue with Starfleet were commissioned and spread around a fleet severely depleted by the war against the Dominion. In the meantime, Voyager's former first officer served a short prison term, taking all the crimes his people had committed against the Federation on his shoulders. The Doctor and Sek were claimed by Starfleet Medical where their respective matrixes were being studied with fascination, and not a little revulsion. The last time Harry had seen Tom Paris, it was in a bar in Paris where the former helmsman was so drunk he could barely speak, and when he finally became abusive, Harry had left in disgust. Tuvok had returned to Vulcan and his family. Kim did not know where Neelix had gone after Samantha Wildman was reunited with her husband. B'Elanna disappeared not long after their return to the Federation, and no news of her existed at all.
Seven tried to find it in herself to care about this, but these people were just reminders of a life she could no longer have. She did not think she would be able to care about anything ever again. She swallowed hard and stood up, touching the communicator on her breast, signaling the shuttle. As the sparkles filled her eyes, the last thing she saw was the couch where she and Kathryn had spent so many evenings talking, drinking wine and being together, feeling the sense of empty finality creep over her like an inevitable tide, inexorable, unstoppable.
She asked Harry to take her to the huge space dock that orbited the northern hemisphere of Earth. There, a hundred ships left and departed for the outer reaches of the Federation every day, and she had some vague idea of finding one, of traveling as far and as long as she could in the hopes of one day being able to leave all the memories behind. Harry dropped her off at the outer ring and wished her well before heading for his new ship and his new posting. Seven spent several hours walking around the hangers and docking bays, looking at the various vessels and trying to make a decision as to where she should go.  It was so difficult to concentrate, her mind occupied with the memory of the story Kathryn had told her about coming here as a little girl on her very first trip off her home planet. In the early hours of night watch, the Borg found herself inevitably drawn to one of the huge windows that looked down on the blue and white sphere her partner had called home. 
She didn't know how long she watched the planet, standing silent and alone, only peripherally conscious of the various people passing by who took note of the solitary form, but did not approach. As the Earth slowly revolved, Seven found she was picking out the various landmarks that Kathryn has shown her so many times on the viewscreen in astrometrics. When the North American continent finally swam into view, her eyes centered on the area she knew was Indiana. Suddenly, for the immediate future, at least, she had a destination, needing desperately to make a final good-bye before taking the next transport out.
She did not question the fact that she could go anywhere by merely requesting it, unaware that the comm badge she had been issued had been coded by Admiral Nechayev who, despite her great distaste for the Borg in general, had been incredibly moved by the story told by the crew of Voyager about this young woman and her love for the doomed captain. For the time being, Seven was granted carte blanc, the Admiral content that the heartbroken young woman would hardly attempt to misuse it. Seven only knew that when she went to the transporter area, and asked to be beamed down to a specific set of coordinates on Earth, the technician merely checked her ID and carried out her request, keying in the controls to send her on her way.
Seven materialized by a small, white structure, the smell of summer and growing things strong in her nostrils as she took her first breath of Indiana air. A warm breeze danced over the emerald stocks of corn in the gently rolling hills around her, and she could hear the lazy hum of insects in the grass. It was late afternoon, the sun low in the azure sky, and she walked to the small cemetery on the other side of the building, steadfastly refusing to look to the rear of the church where a rose garden bloomed brightly in the summer sun. She strode among the various graves, finding a path that led up a low hill. Searching the stones intently, she finally found it beneath the statuesque trunk of an oak tree, shadowed in the cool shade of the overhanging limbs, standing not too far away from another that bore the Admiral's name.
Seven knelt down beside the squared grey stone, placing her hand against the cold granite, tracing the markings there. She had not come to the memorial service even though she had been granted permission to attend. Instead, she had spent the day answering questions and trying very hard not to think about anything at all.  That night, she had lay on her narrow bunk and dreamed images of a time and place that left her alone and aching the next morning when she awoke, clutching the pillow that, for one precious moment, had been Kathryn in her arms. Now, with blurred eyes, she read the inscription, simultaneously simple and profound, just as her partner had been.

Kathryn Anne Janeway 
Devoted daughter, 
Adored sister, 
Beloved wife. 
'For I have dipt into the future, 
far as human eye could see; 
Saw the Vision of the World, 
and all the wonder that would be....'

Seven's fingers shook as she traced the fourth line, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cold stone. The sobs overwhelmed her though she had believed she had cried all there was to cry and only now realized that she had not even begun. She knew Kathryn was not here, not really, but her remains, that body which she had held so close to her, which contained the being Seven had loved so much, rested beneath the cool green turf and the small arch of lattice where the red roses bravely climbed. For the Borg, it was all she had left.
Seven could smell the sweet raspberry scent of the fading blooms and the scent triggered the memory of the single red rose that would wait for her every morning in astrometrics. Why did you make me promise, Kathryn, she asked voicelessly to the fragrant air, her face pressed against the smooth rock, her tears sliding silently down the grey surface. Why are you making me live like this?
"Annika."
The throaty voice was more than she thought she could bear, and she swallowed hard, gulping for air against the sobs. It took a few moments before she was composed enough to stand up, to turn around to face the level grey eyes of Phoebe Janeway.
"Father Davis saw you arrive and contacted the house," the tall, slender woman said softly, her long, curly hair a dark red in the setting sun. "We've been waiting for you, little sister."
Seven looked down at the ground. "She's not here," she said in an almost inaudible voice, her soul bleeding. "Not really. I hoped she would be somehow ... but she isn't." Her voice caught and she gasped, the severity of the pain stabbing through her catching her unprepared for its viciousness, having to wrap her arms around her ribs in the hopes it would keep her from flying completely apart.
"No," Phoebe said, her voice was impossibly gentle, her face warm with compassion. "But we are, Mother and I. Come home, Annika. Come home with me and heal."
Seven shook her head. "I cannot. It is not possible for me to heal."
"Then just come home," Phoebe said, her voice persuasive. "Come home to where she would have brought you if she had been able. Then we can decide what to do next."
Carefully she stretched out her hand and the Borg stared at it for a long moment.
Finally, Seven of Nine stepped forward and accepted the grip which pulled her into a warm embrace, not able to see what lay ahead, knowing only that she was weary beyond belief and that perhaps for a little while, she could rest. She closed her eyes and lay her head on the shoulder of Kathryn's younger sister, holding onto Phoebe for dear life as the tears fell fast and thick once more.
Then together, hand in hand, they walked away from the small mound on the hill as the sun set red and gold on the flat, Indiana horizon.
 

Seven jerked away from the hand holding hers, staring at the Seer with horror, the echoes of heartache and despair penetrating her chest like a dagger, making her heart pound and her head ache. 
"That is my future?" she said, gasping hard for breath, grasping for some sense of control. 
"One," the Seer said. "Choose another card. See the alternative." 
"No," Seven said, cringing away. "I do not wish to see anymore." 
The Seer's hand snaked out, grabbed the young woman's wrist and pulled her hand to the cards. "Choose," she hissed. 
Despite her best effort to control them, Seven's fingers closed over the next card and she pulled it from the deck fanned out in the Seer's hand, turning it and laying next to the dark card. This card was almost obscene in its contrast, colorful, a brightly blooming tree with two small beings dancing about it. 
And Seven was elsewhere.

​

"Dammit, Annika, I can't take this anymore," Kathryn snarled. "You've gone too far. This time, I'm leaving you for good." 
Seven did not bother to glance over at the rotund form of her partner, unimpressed by the threat as she worked on the data contained in her padd. For one thing, she had heard it several times over the past few months, increasing in frequency the closer Kathryn approached her due date. She understood that Kathryn did not really mean it ... after all, inevitably, within the next breath, Kathryn would be professing the most undying love. With her hormones in an uproar, the captain's moods were all over the place, and the Borg had finally just adapted. Of course, Seven also knew that Janeway was entirely incapable of going anywhere at the moment.
After a very long pause when she had heard nothing further from that direction other than a few, frustrated grunts, she finally raised her eyes to peer across the bedroom. She quirked an eyebrow, firmly pressed her lips together and drew her leg up underneath her, reclining against the pillows at the head of the bed as she regarded Kathryn, who was doing her level best to pry her oversized body out of her chair.
"Do you require some assistance?" she asked after a few more moments, with the greatest of politeness.
Kathryn just glared at her and redoubled her efforts. Unfortunately, the chair was constructed so that it was far too low to get out of comfortably at the best of times, and Seven honestly had no idea why Kathryn insisted on sitting on it. The captain hadn't been able to get out of it on her own since her fourth month.
Finally, Kathryn settled back, exhausted, blowing a strand of auburn hair off her perspiration soaked forehead.
"Get over here," she snapped.
Seven gracefully uncoiled from the bed and strolled over to her partner, the soft whisper of breeze from the window by the chair stirring the curtains. She carefully reached down and put her hands beneath her partner's arms, pulling her from the low cushion and holding her upright as Janeway tottered uncertainly on splayed feet.
"Very well," the Borg said, trying not to show she was amused. "Tomorrow night, you may have some."
Startled, Kathryn looked at her. "What?"
Seven nodded. "I spoke with the Doctor, and he said that caffeine would not harm the babies at this point, so tomorrow night, during the party, Phoebe is going to make her own blend and you may have an entire cup."
"Oh, Annika," Kathryn breathed, all soft and yielding in the Borg's arms all of a sudden. "Really?"
"I promise," Seven said seriously.
Janeway offered her a tremulous smile, then it faded, becoming a frown suddenly. "Why not tonight?" she asked, her eyes growing steely.
Seven smiled faintly. "Because I removed all the coffee from the house two months ago, not to mention making a request to all the local shops not to deliver it here. Phoebe will have to bring the ingredients with her when she arrives tomorrow morning."
Kathryn sighed, and hugged Seven as best she could with the rounded belly between them. "I know I'm being a bitch, darling," she mumbled into the Borg's shoulder.
"You are not," Seven said softly, hugging her back tenderly. "You are simply tired ... and lack agility which frustrates you."
"So I take it out on you," Kathryn said, a touch shamefully. 
"Yes, but that is my role. I do not mind."
Kathryn smiled bashfully. "You shouldn't have to take my bad moods. I'm sorry, Annika. I honestly thought I would handle ... all this, better than I have."
"It will not be for much longer," Seven soothed, rubbing her back gently.
Privately, she was very glad they had decided to go with a multiple birth to acquire their desired offspring rather than two separate pregnancies. Seven didn't think she could tolerate going through any more with her partner.
"It is late," she added quietly. "I will be helping Gretchen prepare for the celebration most of the day. You require your rest. We should go to bed."
Kathryn sighed and nodded, taking the offered hand as Seven led her into the bathroom where the Borg helped her prepare for bed, assisting Janeway into her nightgown even though the captain was not so awkward that she could not do this herself. It was just easier when Seven helped, and the younger woman was gratified to be able to contribute to her partner's comfort in this manner.
Though it had been a fairly easy pregnancy so far, the natural restrictions on the normally athletic Janeway were compounded greatly by her having to leave her command a month earlier than anticipated. Seven did not think she would ever forget the expression on the Doctor's face when he discovered that Janeway had been spacewalking while leading a rescue team to recover a crewmember in trouble, her rounded belly protruding beneath the thick space suit. Seven had been equally appalled, but as she was the crewmember in question, she hadn't been in a position to prevent it as she would have otherwise been.
"Do you think Chakotay will be able to make it?" Janeway asked wistfully as they returned to the bedroom. The next day would see the second anniversary of Voyager's triumphant return to the Alpha Quadrant through the Jarvis wormhole, and both of them were looking forward to seeing all their old friends. Janeway had hoped that she would be able to present her children to her old crew, rather than still hauling them around inside her huge belly, but apparently, her offspring had other plans. She was now one and a half weeks overdue.
"I believe so," Seven told her as she pulled back the blankets, and stood by protectively as Janeway eased into bed rather like an Excelsior class vessel sliding into a docking port. "My last information had the Yeager entering the Terran system this morning. Though his debriefings will keep him busy, he did contact Neelix to say he would definitely be here tomorrow night."
Janeway sighed and settled against the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. "It will be good to see him again. I miss having him as my first officer."
"I'll be sure to inform Tuvok," Seven said dryly as she slipped in next to her spouse.
Janeway poked her sharply in the side. "You'll do no such thing," she warned. "It's not nice to tease a pregnant woman. I'm very fragile."
Seven raised an eyebrow. It had taken the Doctor, the Borg and Janeway's Vulcan first officer, combining their best arguments, to convince Janeway to accept an earlier maternity leave rather than continuing to run courier missions for Starfleet Command while seven and a half months pregnant. The Borg supposed that even that wouldn't have worked had not Voyager been about to undergo a complete overhaul in order to install the new, fully modified transwarp drive. Future missions would see Federation vessels able to travel through the Delta Quadrant at will, this time as explorers rather than lost wanderers, and Janeway had been the first to volunteer herself and Voyager for the new technology. It was as if she needed to completely conquer the area of space that had been such a trial to her for so many years.
Seven reached over and gently hugged Kathryn around the neck, kissing her gently on the temple. "You are about as fragile as the duranium hull of Voyager."
Janeway smiled. "Hmm, it seems to me that duranium sink counter wasn't too strong ... not in your hands."
"You are safe in my hands," Seven assured her, smiling at the shared memory.  Then she released her as Kathryn shifted, attempting to find her position. At this stage, it was hard for Janeway to find a comfortable way to sleep, and a lot of recent nights found the pair of them in a reclining position against the head of the bed, Seven supporting Janeway as she slumbered in her arms, watching her peaceful face as the soft sounds of the spring night wafting through the window, along with the smell of growing things.
After finally convincing Janeway to take off the full year of leave she was entitled to, the couple had returned to this small wood frame house in the Indiana agricultural park where Kathryn had grown up. Gretchen had been thrilled to have her daughter home, along with her as yet unborn grandchildren, and together with Seven, she had tried to make it as easy as possible for the captain who was missing her ship, and chaffing at her enforced inactivity.
Janeway struggled over onto her side, facing away from Seven. That meant she wanted her partner to wrap herself around her as best she could, which Seven obligingly did. Janeway was considerably more than the armful she used to be, but the young woman did not mind in the slightest. She placed her palm over the rounded tummy, her Borg enhanced left hand easily picking up the flutters within, the dual heartbeats, feeling the same sense of awe she always did.
"Annika," Kathryn whispered.
"Yes, Kathryn," Seven responded.
"Do you think ... something's wrong?" The captain's voice was tiny in the night.
"Because you are almost two weeks overdue?" Seven snuggled close so that her lips were right next to her spouse's ear. "Not at all. The Doctor said that can happen in a first pregnancy." She smiled and nuzzled Kathryn's hair. "I do not blame them. I would not wish to leave your body either."
Janeway laughed sleepily, with a touch of relief. "Well, this crew had better disembark soon. I'll need a complete overhaul myself before I return to Voyager." She hesitated. "Are you still certain you want to come with me so soon?"
Seven smiled. "Kathryn, we need to be together. Our children will thrive on Voyager, just as Naomi did. Better, because they will have each other to grow up with."
Janeway shifted uncomfortably. "Not if they're anything like Phoebe and I. It'll be a battle zone. The Borg will be a breeze in comparison."
"I am sure they shall be fine."
They had gone over this discussion many times before, and from many directions. At first, Seven had thought Kathryn was trying to get out of their agreement to keep the family together, but gradually she had come to realize that Janeway was just very insecure when it came to her children, as well as her ability to make them happy. The captain needed to be repeatedly reassured that she wasn't making a mistake by taking her family along on her missions, even though she was determined not to be the sort of absentee parent her father was. She also worried that she was trying to have it all, when perhaps it wasn't possible; maintaining command of Voyager with her spouse at her side, leading an exciting life in Starfleet exploration while remaining in the loving arms of her family.
Perhaps they couldn't have it all, Seven thought privately, but that didn't mean they couldn't try. If it did prove to be too dangerous, then she would return here with the children to raise them until they were of an age to make their own decision about where they wanted to be.
Kathryn made a soft sound, jerking slightly, and Seven's arm tightened.
"Are you all right?"
"Mmm," Janeway murmured. "They're just a little lively tonight. They'll settle down eventually." She paused. "You know, coffee would make them quieter."
Seven snorted with derision at such a blatent falsehood, and felt Janeway elbow her admonishingly in the ribs. The matter of the coffee had caused some spirited arguments when Seven deemed the liquid potentially harmful to their offspring even as Janeway utilized every method she could come up with to acquire a cup ... only to see it snatched away at the last second by the Borg. Seven had not been able to keep Kathryn completely away from the noxious fluid, but she was content that she had cut Janeway's caffeine level way down, and the constant battle of wits provided the captain with something to concentrate on other than being away from her ship.
"Annika," Janeway murmured sleepily. "I love you."
Seven kissed her ear. "I love you too, Kathryn. Go to sleep if you can. Tomorrow will be a big day."
 
Seven adored being in Gretchen Janeway's kitchen. It was large and filled with sunlight, the aromas of spice and warm food a constant presence in the air. The Borg thought that one could stand in the doorway and acquire a satisfying and delicious meal just from the fragrance. The spacious counters and cabinets contained every utensil and food preparation appliance that could be found, and Seven, from the first moment she set foot in it upon returning to Earth, had been in absolute heaven. Gretchen was thrilled to have such an attentive and eager pupil, which had amused Kathryn greatly, the Starfleet captain suggesting that perhaps her mother had finally gotten the daughter she was meant to ... something to which the older woman totally agreed. 
Seven was intently measuring out her ingredients, fully occupied with adding just the right amount of spice to the casseroles that were to provide the main course for the evenings festivities. This was the first time she had been allowed to prepare this particular dish after finally being granted the secret recipe by a suitably serious Gretchen, and the Borg was taking extreme care to be exact. She wanted to be absolutely perfect under the gentle gaze of her mentor, who also happened to be her mother-in-law.
Phoebe had finally arrived and was perched on a stool, dividing her time between teasing Seven unmercifully about her domestic skills ... an onus Seven was apparently expected to carry as the 'little sister' ... and needling Kathryn about her apparent inability to do something so simple as give birth in a timely and efficient manner. Kathryn, perched somewhat gingerly in a chair at the kitchen table, was giving back as good as she was getting, wondering when Phoebe was going to get a 'real job' within the next millennium, even as she continued to try to wheedle a cup of coffee out of her before the party. 
Seven looked up briefly at one point as the two women burst into laughter, drawing their mother into it, and the vision of the three women together, all of them loving Seven without reservation, afforded the Borg the knowledge that there could be no better existence than this. Their love and happiness surrounded her, a palpable joy at being part of this family filling her; something that she had only dreamed of on Voyager, and could never have imagined as a drone.
"Honestly, Mother," Kathryn said, revisiting a very old argument, "I simply want to know why you and Annika are doing all this work. The replicator would take care of it with a fraction of the time and effort."
"But it wouldn't be as good," Gretchen insisted with gentle good humor. "Tell me, Kathryn, would your conclusions from your engineering experiments be as personally satisfying if you allowed automated drones to do it all?"
"That's different," Kathryn said stubbornly. "Science is hands on so that a researcher can get the proper perspective of the conclusion."
"Cooking is very scientific." Seven flicked a look at Phoebe. "As well as artistic.  It requires experimentation and care with the measurements, as well as a certain creativity in attempting to explore new avenues. In the end, I find the results are far more satisfying and fulfilling than mere scientific endeavors."
"Listen to Annika," Gretchen said firmly. "After all, she should know. She does have the knowledge of ten thousand species in her brain, after all."
Phoebe laughed, her free and easy spirit a direct contrast to her more sedate and composed older sister. "You should know better than to argue with Mom," she told the Starfleet captain.  "Especially now that she has Annika for backup."
"I'm not arguing," Kathryn protested mildly. "I'm just saying I don't understand the need for all this effort."
"It is purely a personal satisfaction," Seven told her, taking a moment from her work to lean over and nuzzle her spouse briefly.
Kathryn, who was still a bit embarrassed at such openly affectionate gestures in front of her mother and sister, though neither hardly minded, blushed faintly but smiled and managed to kiss her back before Seven returned to her task. "In any event," Seven added as she took the large dish and placed it in the heating unit, along with all the others. "This is the last. Now we can relax."
"Just in time," Gretchen noted, peering out the window. "Isn't that your engineer, Kathryn?"
Janeway eased off her chair and waddled over to the window, smiling happily. "So it is. I wonder how the upgrades are coming. She promised she'd come by early to fill me in."
Seven took the captain's elbow as they went out the screen door to the veranda running the back length of the house, moving over to where the porch swing sat facing the driveway where a hovercraft had just settled onto its landing struts. "Do not occupy all your time tonight with work," she requested gently as she helped her partner sit in the swing.
"I won't," Janeway promised insincerely as Seven turned to meet the woman who had leaped lightly up the stairs, dressed in the grey and black of Starfleet Engineering.
"It's so good to see you two," Commander B'Elanna Torres greeted, grinning widely as she hugged Seven. "How are things?" She took a look at Janeway and laughed. "Haven't managed to pry thos hangar doors open yet?" she added with tolerant amusement.
Janeway's lips pursed, and she favored her former chief engineer with a grimace. "They are steadfastly refusing to leave the ship. I hope it's not indicative of their general attitude. That's all I need; more insubordinate crew."
Even Seven smiled at that as she settled next to her partner while B'Elanna leaned casually against the wood railing, filling in the captain on all the modifications to her beloved ship which Torres was overseeing at the Utopia Planetia shipyards orbiting Mars. The Borg listened quietly, amused at the two officer's shared enthusiasm for the technical improvements being implemented. Then her eye was caught by two more figures walking up the driveway, and she felt the warm spot in her chest grow larger, infusing her with pleasure. The tall dark form of Voyager's current first officer matched its former first officer stride for stride as Tuvok and Chakotay, now sporting the four pips of command, quickened their pace as they saw the gathering on the deck.
A little later, a small ship swooped down with casual indifference as to how it might scare the horses, and landed on the back lawn. Commander Tom Paris leaped out, still dressed in the jumpsuit of the Starfleet flight test facility, preceding Lt. Commander Harry Kim who looked a little green around the edges from what must have been a rather exciting trip from his posting as Chief of Operations on Deep Space Four. The Doctor and Sek arrived simply by materializing onto the porch, transported from Starfleet Medical where they were using their leave to lecture the medical personnel there on the genetic scans of Species 8472. The living holograms, assigned to Janeway's command, were greeted enthusiastically by the rest, and were soon deep in a discussion with Phoebe about the new holographic form art being displayed at the local gallery.
Neelix, fresh off a successful tour of the Federation's Rigelan colonies in his ambassadorial role as representative of the Delta Quadrant, arrived with another group who had gathered from all over the Alpha Quadrant to help celebrate this second anniversary. Seven was kept busy greeting old faces, and catching up on all that had happened the last two years, more people arriving every minute until the entire former crew of Voyager was gathered around the farmhouse porch. They greedily partook of the generous repast of potato salad, corn on the cob, and Gretchen Janeway's special rice and pepper casserole with appropriate cries of appreciation, while Seven oversaw the simulated chicken and beef steaks sizzling on the barbeque. Later, they settled in with a variety of sweets and coffee as dusk fell, the soft peeps of frogs from the pond and the crickets in the meadow a pleasant counterpoint to their many conversations. The Borg made a point of being near Kathryn at that point, wanting to see her partner's face when Phoebe presented the captain with the first fully authorized cup of coffee she'd had in over six months.
Janeway's enforced abstinence from the brew was no secret, and the crowd regarded her with amused attentiveness as Janeway accepted the mug with appropriate dignity after getting awkwardly to her feet. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled as she raised it in a toast to these people, still considering them her crew regardless of where they might be posted now.
"It was a long journey," she said, the crowd respectfully hushed. "Sometimes a difficult one, but together, we made it back. To all of us, and especially to those who did not make it all the way home. May they never be forgotten."
They raised their glasses and with anticipation, Janeway raised the mug to her lips. A startled 'oh' and an astounded look crossed her face just before it touched them. Seven was instantly at her side.
"What is it?" she asked anxiously. Janeway looked down, and Seven followed her gaze to the spreading wetness puddling about the captain's feet. "Your water has broken!"
"It can wait," Janeway stated firmly, raising the mug quickly to her lips, but not quickly enough as Seven snatched the cup out of her hands and deposited it on the arm of the porch swing. Immediately, the Borg started urging her partner into the house. "Nooo," the captain protested despairingly, looking back over her shoulder at the steaming cup left abandoned as excitement swept the crowd, the Doctor and Sek shoving their way through the various Starfleet officers, snapping orders.
Seven and Gretchen got Janeway situated in the spare, ground-floor bedroom set up specifically for this purpose a month earlier. The Borg noted suddenly that her partner was no longer concerned with the coffee she was missing, and was now fully occupied with the contractions that were suddenly overwhelming her.
"I was afraid of this," the Doctor remarked idly as they got the captain properly positioned. "They been hanging around for so long, they can hardly wait to get out now."
Seven sat behind her partner, supporting Kathryn's shoulders as the captain's hand gripped the Borg's tightly, in grave danger of crushing the young woman's implant. On the other side of the room, Phoebe recorded everything intently with a holo-imager, fascinated beyond all reason in this process her older, incredibly proper sister was undergoing.
"Ow," Kathryn said in a high voice. "This hurts!"
"Breathe, Kathryn," Seven instructed in a soothing voice despite the pain in her implant where Kathryn's nails were digging in with tremendous force. "Just as we practiced."
"God dammit, we didn't practice this," Kathryn yelped. "Get them out. Get them out!" Her voice rose with every word.
"Easy, Kathryn," Gretchen said softly, wiping her daughter's forehead with a soft, damp cloth. "Everything will be fine."
"Relax," the Doctor ordered firmly, placing himself between the captain's legs. "Don't worry, Captain. This isn't going to take long. They take after their mother after all; when they decide to do something, not much is going to slow them down."
"Will everyone stop telling me to relax?" Kathryn snapped, the firm whip of command in her voice severely undermined by the squeak of panic.  "Just beam these things out of me!"
"Kathryn, calm down," Seven said, hugging her chest gently. "Let it happen naturally. Do not resist."
"If you say 'resistance is futile'," Janeway warned through clenched teeth. "I swear I'll smack you."
Seven kissed her on the temple, forcing herself to be calm in the face of this total lack of cooperation. "It will be all right, Kathryn."
"Ow, dammit," Janeway replied.
"Push, Captain," the Doctor said.
"Ow, ow," Janeway said louder. "Damn."
"I see a head," the Doctor said. Over his shoulder, Sek hovered expectantly, ready to step in with the proper equipment if anything went amiss. "Here comes the first one." 
"Ow, ow, ow." Janeway yipped. "Damn, damn, DAMN!"
Outside the door somewhere, the Irish Setter, Jake howled in response to his mistress's yelps of pain, and Seven heard the crowd try to hush him. She wondered how they were reacting to the sounds of their former captain giving birth behind the wooden door. They certainly weren't talking much ... her enhanced hearing would have picked up on that.
"It's a boy," the Doctor said as more howls filled the air, this time by a squirming, wet, wrinkled organism covered with blood that the hologram held up as he severed the cord.
Seven was appalled. "Is it supposed to look like that?" she asked in a quavery voice.
The Doctor shot her a disgusted look. "Do be quiet, Seven."
The Borg wondered why something that looked so pristine and organized in the instructional programs was so incredibly messy and confused in actuality. Still a little aghast at the sight of the newborn, she looked down at Kathryn who was regarding her with eyes as wide and blue as she had ever seen.
"Is he all right?" Janeway asked anxiously.
"He's fine," Sek interrupted, having wiped him off, scanned him thoroughly and wrapped him in a clean, white blanket, bringing him close to the two parents. "He's perfect, in fact. Five pounds, six ounces. Say hello to your son."
The two women regarded the tiny bundle with mutual astonishment, apprehension and awed adoration.
"Captain," the Doctor reminded the mother from his position, looking faintly annoyed. "You're not done. I think you're going to have to push a little harder for this one. It's a little more reluctant."
The couple tore their eyes from their firstborn with difficulty and shifted their attention to the matter at hand,  As Seven coached encouragingly, the captain firmed her jaw and with great concentration, a steely glint appearing in her grey gaze, strands of auburn hair sticking to her forehead from the sweat, Janeway set about obeying the Doctor's demand, bearing down. Before long, though it seemed like forever for the participants, their second child was delivered, taking a great deal more effort than the first.
"A girl, five pounds, ten ounces," the Doctor announced with satisfaction as the screams filled the air, even louder than the other who had abruptly quieted, no doubt overwhelmed by the newcomer's lusty lung power.
"Well," Janeway noted as Sek deposited the two babies into her arms, staring down at the two little wrinkled faces with weary joy. From the reserve that had served her so many times before, Seven saw her partner draw up the energy to be completely alert and intent on the situation. "That was easy."
Seven, who could no longer flex the fingers of her left implant, considered that to be the second single most inaccurate thing the captain had ever said to her. But when she looked down at her spouse cradled in her arms, and the two tiny forms of her children, she forgot everything else, believing her heart must surely explode from all this emotion. Tentatively, she touched the little heads, too overcome to speak. Kathryn looked up at her and smiled in a way Seven had never seen before, and the Borg returned it, unaware that her entire face was lit up as if from some glow deep within.
The Doctor and Sek finished cleaning up as the parents, grandparent and new aunt examined the offspring intently, counting all the fingers and toes, cooing over the rest of the absurdly tiny body parts. Then the Doctor leaned over the captain. "Are you ready for a few visitors? We have some anxious people out there."
"Only a few," Seven said warningly, her eyes sparking as every protective instinct fiercely went on alert. "Perhaps B'Elanna and Tuvok."
"And Harry, Neelix, Tom and Chakotay," the captain added placidly. "They need to see this." She glanced up at Seven, smiling gently and Seven melted, unable to deny her anything she might want. "Tell them to bring in my coffee."
The door opened and Voyager's prior senior staff crowded hesitantly into the room, their eyes wide and fearful as they took in the sight of their captain and her newest accomplishment.
"Hello my friends," Janeway said softly, smiling. "May I present the newest additions to our family." She looked down at the offspring cradled in each arm.
"On the left is Edward Magnus Janeway," she introduced huskily. "And on the right, Erin Gretchen Hansen."
Seven thought that this was the most supremely happy moment that she would ever experience in her life as she held her family in her arms, while all the people she loved in her life gathered round to help her celebrate.