Copyright 2000, Susan S. McCrackin  Reprinted with permission of the author.

The Doctor heard the mumbling from inside his office. He slowly walked out, carefully observing his patient as he did so. Harry Kim had been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours. The Doctor had been monitoring his vital signs over the past day and was relieved that he finally seemed to be getting some much-needed rest. He had medicated Harry to help him sleep after noticing that Harry would start to have an increased brain activity and his reactions were rather dramatic when he would approach REM sleep. The first time it happened, he quickly administered a sedative. It wasn’t long before his scans indicated a cellular regeneration and an improved hemocyte level. The Doctor was pretty certain Harry still desperately needed sleep. However, after twenty-four hours, he wanted Harry to wake up and eat solid foods. 

He also was worried about Seven and Kathryn B’Elanna. Seven had been up with Kathryn B’Elanna the night before last, then had worked most of the day in astrometrics on a project for the Captain and had been up again most of last night with Kathryn B’Elanna. She had stopped by briefly this morning on her way back to astrometrics, and the Doctor was worried that she had looked really tired. He knew she could go for a number of days without regenerating, but the stress of dealing with Kathryn B’Elanna was wearing on her. If Harry continued to improve, he would ask Tom to spend the night in the sickbay with Harry so he could stay with Kathryn B’Elanna and allow Seven to regenerate in her alcove. 

He smiled when he thought about her visit earlier. She had walked in without looking at anyone but him and accompanied him into his office, immediately turning to him, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head on his shoulder. She did not say anything.

"Bad night?"

She had just nodded, but still did not say anything.

"How is Kathryn B’Elanna doing this morning?"

"She is finally asleep." She sighed, "Was it this bad the other times she cut her teeth?"

"No," he replied, "some of the other times were worse."

She looked at him, a slight horror in her eyes, and he laughed at her, hugging her tightly, "You did just fine with her during those times. And you are doing just fine with her this time."

"I do not think I am doing just fine with her."

"You are," he kissed her on the forehead, "you are doing a wonderful job. I am just sorry I am not there to help you."

"You have a patient to care for. I understand that."

"Still, I would rather be there for you. For both of you." He hugged her tightly for a moment, "How did your work in astrometrics go?"

"I was able to determine a safe path through the nebula. We should be entering it soon." She paused, "How is your patient?"

"Still sleeping. I hope to be home tonight, though. If he continues to improve, I will ask Tom to stay with him, and I’ll take over walking the floor with Kathryn B’Elanna. You can regenerate."

She sighed, "That would be good. I think regenerating would help me."

The fact that she had even admitted that had told the Doctor how badly she needed to regenerate. He had done a quick scan, noting that her erythrocytes were low and had sent her to the mess hall for a nutritious meal. He had even called ahead to Neelix to order it for her and followed up to make certain she had eaten it before she returned to her work in astrometrics. He did not want anyone to know how worried he was about her. The stress of regaining her life was hard enough on her, but he knew she was putting herself under even more stress in her efforts to be a good mother to Kathryn B’Elanna and a good wife to him. He wished she would relax about both of those issues, but there was enough Borg left in her to seek perfection and nothing less. 

Even Ketaria was concerned. She had suggested they use the holodeck for a family vacation, but circumstances were now preventing that. He glanced over at Harry and noticed he was starting to thrash a little as well as mumble. Concerned, he walked toward his patient.

Once he got close, he could make out words and phrases, and what he heard froze him in his tracks.

"No. I will kill her before I will let you have her again…You are killing her…Seven, I am trying to help you…Seven, I am here for you…you are an individual…I will help you…no, don’t hurt her…I am not enough…I am not enough…NOOOOOO!"

Harry sat straight up in the biobed, screaming. The scream brought the Doctor out of his shocked state and into action. He rushed to Harry, grabbing him, feeling his body shaking as he did so. Harry looked at him, his eyes wide with horror, fear and pain, trying to understand where he was, his breath coming shallow and fast. The two men locked eyes and Harry fought his emotions, trying to pull himself back from the edge.

For the first time, the Doctor had an idea of what Harry had experienced. He felt his fear and his pain. He looked at the young man he was holding, suddenly knowing what it had cost this man to protect Seven, to protect his wife.

"Harry…." The Doctor’s voice was choked off with emotion. "Harry…" He could not get any more out the second time he tried.

Harry looked at the Doctor, not able to understand what the Doctor was trying to tell him, thinking the Doctor was angry with him. He turned his head, knowing the Doctor had every right to be upset with him. "Let me go. I need to leave. I can’t stay here and face you."

"No, Harry. No." The Doctor turned the young man’s shoulders, forcing Harry to look at him, "What you did for Seven…what it cost you…how can I ever thank you?"

Harry looked at the Doctor in shock, not quite able to believe what he had heard. He was so frozen he was unable to fight as the Doctor pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around this man who had tried so hard to save his wife.

Harry’s mind was whirling. Then, he felt it coming, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt himself in the strong embrace of this person who had every reason to hate him for what he had done, and who was now trying to give him comfort. 

For the first time since he had returned with Seven from the Borg cube, Harry Kim started to cry – to really cry. And the Doctor held him while he did.

All eyes on the bridge were focused on the view screen as they approached the nebula.

"Mr. Tuvok," Janeway called back to him without taking her eyes off the screen, "is the path Seven laid out for us still open?"

"Yes, Captain."

She stood quiet, still feeling an uneasiness about entering the nebula but feeling even more uneasy about going around it. Finally, she took a deep breath, "Shields down, all ahead, one half impulse."

She stood in the center of the bridge and watched as the ship entered the gassy realm. No one spoke as they slowly moved deeper. She was nervous about going in, unprotected by the shields, but Seven had warned their polarity could cause a disruption inside the nebula. After five minutes, she moved to take her seat and ventured a glance at Chakotay. He felt her eyes on him and turned to face her.

"Well?"

"Well," she replied, "I think I want to wait and see."

He nodded.

She spoke over her shoulder again, "Mr. Tuvok, how long will it take us to get through?"

"At this rate, thirty-one point four hours."

She nodded. That was what Seven had told her. So far, so good. Now, if they could just avoid any unknowns. Seven had not been able to assure her that the path was completely safe and had warned of the possibility that the entry of the ship itself could create an unknown reaction in the nebula.

She had weighed the odds and decided she did not like any of them. But a growing knot in the pit of her stomach had told her the fastest way out of the Delta Quadrant was the best and that was straight through the nebula.

Kahkar Omarahn, she thought, I sure could use your counsel right now. 

But they had not heard from Kahkar and did not know when they would. She made this decision the way she had made every other decision that she had had to make in the Delta Quadrant – using her instincts and her gut. So far, their luck had held out. She could only trust it would happen again.

Kahkar watched as the computer indicated that the signal had been sent. With any luck, it would reach Voyager in a matter of hours. If they stopped, he should be able to reach them within a few days.

The thought made him smile. It had been too long since he had seen his wife. They had never been separated this long, and he was anxious to be reunited with her. And he wanted to see Seven. A frown crossed his face as he thought about her, wondering again if she would be the Seven he remembered. Would she remember him? He doubted it.

He looked at the transwarp coil in his lab. Won’t Kathryn Janeway be surprised to see that? 

He thought back to his conversation with the Borg queen, still puzzling over her last words to him. He looked back to his console, suddenly aware of the distance between his ship and Voyager. He bit his top lip, worry coming into his eyes. He tapped his console in front of him and sighed. There was nothing he could do but wait and keep his ship moving toward Voyager as fast as possible.

"Warning. Regeneration cycle is incomplete."

Seven stepped out of her alcove and sighed deeply. She was unable to regenerate. She stood, trying hard to remember what it was that had disrupted her regeneration. Something kept playing in her mind, but whatever had been there was gone now. She stepped down from the alcove and sat on its edge, her head bowed. Weary. She felt so weary.

Looking around the cargo bay, she searched her memories, trying to open her mind to her past, hoping something would come, but there was nothing there. So much emptiness. Standing, she walked to the computer console, looking at herself in the smooth metal finish on its side.

Who are you? 

She leaned down to look closer at her reflection, staring deeply into her own eyes as if doing so would give her an insight into herself. Then, her eyes went to the implant around her left eye, and she reached up with her left hand to touch it. The metal on her hand gleamed back at her in the reflection, and she touched the cold metal of her fingers to her cheek. When she touched her hand to her child, her touch was cold. When she held her child close to her body, her child felt not just warm flesh, but also places of cold, hard metal. 

She was something less than human. She was Borg. No, she had been Borg. Just as she had been human. And now, neither of those terms applied to her. Neither meant anything to her. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists as if her actions could shut out the vision and the feel of herself. But turning inside herself was worse because there was nothing there. What she saw was nothing. What she knew was nothing. She was nothing.

She turned and walked out of the cargo bay, not knowing where she was going and not really caring. After a few minutes, she found herself at the door to her living quarters. Staring at the door, she hesitated to enter. She did not know if she wanted to know what was going on inside. If her child needed her, she had nothing to give her. If her husband wanted to be with her, she did not think she could respond to him. 

For the first time since she had woken up from the surgery, she wished she had died.

She must have moved slightly, because the door opened, and she looked into the darkened room. Peering inside, she saw no movement and heard no sound. Hesitantly, she entered. She moved quietly through the living room and approached Kathryn B’Elanna’s bedroom. Looking inside, she saw that it was empty. Frowning, she moved to look into her bedroom and stopped at what she saw.

There on her bed was her husband and her child. The child was curled close to her father’s body, her thumb in her mouth. Her husband had their child wrapped in his arms, holding her as he slept. Even in sleep, their faces were content, their love for each other apparent. They were complete with each other.

Turning, she all but ran from her home.

Five minutes later, she found herself outside of another set of doors. Almost without thinking, she moved to a control panel, keyed in a series of commands, then moved forward into the opening doors.

Once the doors closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. This place had provided her comfort before, maybe it could do so again. She closed her eyes and soaked in the feeling of this place. Slowly, she opened her eyes again and walked up to a nearby tree, unconsciously reaching out to put her hands on it. Her eyes went to them, and she saw them, one hand human, the other Borg. She shook her head sharply, jerked her hands away from the tree and moved forward.

As soon as she rounded the familiar rock cropping, she saw him.

He was sitting on the rock where B’Elanna had been earlier. He had a fishing pole in his hands and was patiently watching the bobbin that was floating in the water below. She watched as he took the tip of his pole and pushed the bobbin down into the water, then quickly jerked the pole upward, looking expectantly at the empty hook that emerged. She saw him frown in disappointment, then lower the hook back into the water and wait again. After a few moments, she saw him push at the bobbin again, jerk up the pole and dejectedly return the hook to the water. His actions almost brought a smile to her face.

When she turned to leave, she knocked a stone with her foot and sent it tumbling down the slope to the water, the sound making him turn in her direction.

"Mama Seven!" Flotter’s face broke into a delightful smile, "Did you come to fish with me?"

"No…I," she was stumbling for a response.

His face did not lose its smile, "Then did you just come to sit with me?"

Again, she did not know how to respond, but the idea of doing so was suddenly appealing. She found herself nodding to him and watched as he moved sideways to make room for her on the rock. She sat down and watched as he fished.

After a few minutes, she said, "You have not said anything to me."

He turned and gave her a simple look, "You came to sit with me. I did not realize you wanted to talk."

She blinked in surprise, then smiled, "Yes, I did come to sit."

He nodded and turned his attention back to his fishing, intermittently pushing in the bobbin with his pole and going through the motions of jerking the pole up and then returning the hook to the water. She watched him a few times, then felt compelled to ask, "Can you tell me what you are doing?"

"I am fishing."

"I can see that, but why do you keep pulling the pole up?"

"When the bobbin goes down, the pole comes up."

She frowned slightly, "But you are pushing the bobbin down."

He looked at that curiously, "Does that make a difference?"

She averted her eyes and suppressed the smile she felt coming to her face, "No, it does not make a difference."

He gave her a confident smile and returned to his fishing. She sat next to him, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable with where she was. Here, no one wanted or expected anything from her. There was no need to remember anything, no need to have feelings for anyone. Here, it was possible to be…whatever or whomever she was, someone or no one. 

After a long period of silence, she spoke to her blue companion, "Flotter."

"Yes, Mama Seven?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, Mama Seven."

She smiled slightly, "Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Why do you call me Mama Seven?"

"Well, Kathryn B’Elanna," he was careful to always call KB Kathryn B’Elanna around Mama Seven, "calls you Mama and the Doctor," he turned to look at her with bright eyes, "did you know the Doctor has his own sickbay?"

She nodded and he continued, "Well, the Doctor calls you Seven."

When he did not continue, she said, "So?"

"So what?"

She took a breathe, "So, why do you call me Mama Seven?"

"Oh. Well, I am not Kathryn B’Elanna, and I am not the Doctor."

She was getting more puzzled, "I do not understand."

He pushed his pole into the bobbin and jerked the hook out of the water, then dropped it in the water again before continuing, "Since Kathryn B’Elanna calls you Mama and I am not Kathryn B’Elanna, and the Doctor calls you Seven, and I am not the Doctor, then I call you both. That means I call you Mama Seven."

He looked at her with a delighted expression that told her what he had said made perfect sense to him, so she nodded and replied, "Oh."

He saw the look on her face and was concerned for her, "Is there something wrong with my answer, Mama Seven?"

"No." Once again she found herself struggling for words to respond to his question. Finally, she said, "I…I just thought the answer would be more…complicated."

He gave her a solemn nod and returned to his fishing. After a few moments, he said, "No. There is no complicated answer." He repeated his bobbin pushing exercise and, as he was dropping the hook back into the water said, "Complicated answers give me a headache."

Despite herself, she laughed. When he looked at her, his own face breaking into laughter, she said, "I understand. Complicated answers give me a headache, also."

He went back to his fishing, and she sat and watched.

Admiral Paris stood silent, his hands clasped behind his back. He was definitely unhappy. Right now, he should be thrilled. From all indications, he had won the battle he had been fighting these many months. Actually, the battle that he and Captain Janeway had been fighting.

The leadership of the Federation had agreed to allow the Doctor and Seven of Nine to remain together as a family. The Doctor’s program would not be deleted or changed in any way, and Seven of Nine would not be incarcerated. A special decree would be issued to recognize their marriage. The Alpha Quadrant would be a safe home for them, and they would be welcomed. There was only a request that they would agree to be studied under very controlled conditions. And that would be a request they would be free to reject. Their wishes would be honored.

Why did he not believe them?

It had all happened too fast. They had changed their stance too quickly and without a definitive explanation. 

"Based on subsequent studies, we have reevaluated our prior position."

As much as he wanted to believe it, he just could not. But the next data stream would include the leadership’s message to Captain Janeway, and he knew the elation she would feel. But she had not seen the looks on some of the faces in that room. She would not have been able to see the averted eyes, the hidden looks and the pinched expressions. He knew they were lying to him, and they knew he knew. And it did not make any difference.

They had given him his orders, and they knew he had to follow them.

Public sentiment was in his favor. The people of Earth wanted to see this Borg who had been freed from the collective, who had almost died to have a child and become a mother. The pictures of the family that Captain Janeway had sent in the data stream had touched people. The child was beautiful, and she looked like her mother. The pride in her father’s eyes was clear to even the most skeptical observer. The people of Earth wanted to see this family for themselves. They wanted to see the freed Borg and her child. They were interested in the Doctor who had grown beyond his original programming and had become a father. Technology was so much a part of everyone’s life that the cybernetic human mother and the holographic computer program father seemed like an obvious next step.

It was the fanatics who thought otherwise, those driven by a hatred of the Borg. Those who would stop at nothing to exact a revenge for the losses of loved ones by the Borg. Their numbers had grown over the years, as had the skirmishes with the Borg on the border between the Alpha and the Delta Quadrants. 

But even he believed these fanatics were far removed from the leadership of the Federation. 

A knock at the door drew him out of his deep thoughts, "Yes. Come in."

Deanna Troi walked in, "You wanted to see me, Admiral?"

"Yes, thank you for coming. Please, sit down. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you." She took a seat and watched him carefully, "You are bothered."

He just smiled at her as he took his seat in front of her. "Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that right now." He leaned back in his seat, "I wanted you to tell me how Reg is doing."

"Admiral…"

"I am not asking you to divulge anything confidential. I just need to know if you feel he is…stable."

"You are asking for my professional opinion of his status."

"Yes."

"It is my opinion that the Pathfinder project has been good for him."

"Is that a way of telling me he is…in good shape without answering my question directly?"

She smiled at him, "You may take my statement anyway you want to."

He grinned at her, "Then I will take it positively."

Her eyes wandered around the room, landing on a framed picture sitting on the Admiral’s desk. She picked it up, and looked at it with admiration, "They are a beautiful couple."

"Thank you," his eyes gleamed with pride.

"That is B’Elanna."

"Yes, my daughter-in-law. I am looking forward to meeting her."

Her eyes focused more closely on the picture, "Is she pregnant?"

"Yes." Now, he was beaming. "My first grandchild."

"You must be proud, and very anxious for them to get home."

"Oh, I can hardly wait. I want my son home." He looked away from her, "I can’t wait to tell him how proud I am of him, face to face. I am looking forward to hugging him again."" He looked at the picture she held in her hand, "And to hugging my new daughter-in-law and to holding my grandchild in my arms." He stood to look at the picture of Voyager he had placed on his wall, "And Reginald Barclay is important to bringing Voyager home. That’s why I want to make certain he is in good shape. These next few months are going to be intense and I need him able to stand up to the pressure."

She gave herself time before she responded. Then, she stood to face him, "I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Admiral."

"Good. Thank you."

Counselor Troi carefully placed the picture back on the desk, and he saw her to the door. Before leaving, she looked at him, measuring her words, "If you need to talk to me again, call me."

He heard their double meaning, "Thank you. I will remember that."

With a nod, she left, and he turned back to look at the picture on his desk. More than anything right now, he wanted his son, his son’s family home, and the family that was Voyager all back safely.