Through The Eyes Of A Stranger

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Star Trek: Voyager

Copyright: Paramount

She came up from sedation not knowing where, or who, she was at first. But the whirring and beeping of medical instruments, the deeper hum of a starship engine underneath, the smells of disinfectant and clean fabric, and the face of the man standing by her bedside, were far more reassuring than logic would suggest. One might think she would be tired of hospitals after spending so much time in the Neuropathology Department on Quarra, and she was, but not this place. This place, she knew, was safe.

Her birth name was Annika Hansen. Her Borg designation was Seven of Nine. She had been assimilated twice in a lifetime, first by the Borg, then by the Quarrans. But she had not stopped until she learned the truth, and now all that remained was for her real memories to come back.

"How are you feeling?"

The man by her bed was Amal Kotay, Employee 9393 – correction, Commander Chakotay of the USS Voyager. He was in his mid-forties, tall and solidly built, with golden-brown skin and a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once. Dark eyes feathered with laugh lines looked down at her with quiet concern. He had a tattoo over his left eyebrow, the same place she had her ocular implant. At the sight of those curved lines of ink, something clicked. Of course. This is how he looks without the artificial forehead ridges.

She had looked forward to properly meeting the man who, according to Ms. Janeway, had taken such risks to recover his lost shipmates. She had forgotten how handsome he was.

"My body is undamaged. As for my brain, that remains to be seen. I could ask you the same thing, sir." She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Unlike the fussy holographic doctor she had dealt with earlier, he let her do so unassisted. "The last time I saw you, you were unconscious with your head trapped in Dr. Kaden's engrammatic resequencer. Are your memories intact?"

The Commander rubbed his forehead and shuddered, as if he could still feel the cold metal device that had been attached to him. Annika still felt nauseated at the memory; she had seen and felt enough invasive technology to last a lifetime.

"Well, the Doctor tells me they are, and I don't feel any sudden urges to go back to the power plant, for what that's worth. How about you?"

"I have passed the first stage of treatment. He says our memories should return in a few days."

She glanced over Chakotay's shoulder at the opposite end of the room, where the same holographic doctor was talking to Kathryn Janeway. Her colleague and fellow survivor looked bewildered, running her hands through her long auburn hair as if battling a stress headache. Annika wanted to help, but feared that further interference would only confuse the older woman more.

Chakotay followed her gaze in the same direction and sighed, a small sad movement she was probably not meant to notice.

"Ms. Janeway is the captain of this ship, correct? She said you told her so when you were hiding in her empty apartment."

"That's right," he said. "I was her second-in-command for six and a half years."

They must have worked very closely together. No wonder he was sad to see her like this.

"She will recognize you soon." Annika did not know if her sympathy would be welcome, but she had to say something. "And when she does, she will be grateful to have her identity restored."

Then Chakotay said a strange thing, and said it bitterly: "Even when she does, we'll never be the same."

This was beyond Annika's comprehension. She had always doubted the Quarrans' claim that they had saved her from the wreckage of a Borg ship and reintegrated her into society, but whoever had done so, they hadn't finished the job. She still had trouble understanding emotions and relationships. She wished she did, if only so she could help this man feel better.

Evan as she thought so, however, Chakotay made a visible effort to come out of whatever thoughts he had been lost in. He turned back to face her. "So, um … is it Ms. Hansen or Seven? What should I call you?"

Your designation is Seven of Nine, Employee 8586 – Mr. Tuvok – had told her when he'd caught hold of her face and formed that strange telepathic connection. She had been terrified of him at the time, but once the initial shock had worn off, it had only made her more determined to find him and talk to him. To tell the truth, she had been starving for companionship without knowing it; finding out that someone needed her had made her feel more alive than she could ever remember feeling.

She, the efficiency monitor, whose thankless duty it was to interrupt groups of friends and stop them talking during work hours, had friends of her own. She was no longer separate. She belonged somewhere. Whatever name they used was acceptable to her.

"You may call me Seven."

"Okay, Seven." Chakotay smiled. "This feels strange, meeting you for the first time all over again. Would you like me to show you around the ship? Maybe it'll help you with your memories."

"All right."

/

They wandered around Voyager's empty decks like children in a holosuite. It was surreal even for her to see the place almost empty; she could only imagine what it was like for him.

He introduced her to the skeleton crew that remained: Ensign Kim, who looked at her with wide eyes and squeezed her hand very tightly in welcome, and Lieutenant Torres, who gave her a wry smile and complimented her haircut. Seven recognized her as the pregnant woman who had been "abducted" on the way home from work, and was relieved to see her bustling around Engineering like someone who felt at home there.

She was equally relieved to get out of Engineering; there was an atmosphere of tension about the place. It was a site for explosions, both real and metaphorical. She breathed easier once the doors were closed.

"Who else is here?" she asked.

"There's Neelix, our ambassador, but he's down on the surface talking to the Quarran government. It's going to take a lot of organization to get the rest of our crew back, you see. We can't do it all at once, they'd panic. But Neelix's people skills are better than his cooking, so I have faith in him."

"Where is Mr. Tuvok?" Seven asked. "Is he on Quarra too?"

"He's in his quarters, meditating," said Chakotay.

"May I speak to him? I … would like to apologize. He recognized me and appealed to me for help, and I refused. If not for him, I might never have begun my investigation."

"That's a kind thought, but maybe later. He's … well, he's going through something very personal. I don't know how much you remember about Vulcans, but their culture is very strict about - "

" – emotional control," Seven finished, then stopped in her tracks. "I remember. I remember."

More memories crowded in along with that one: Tuvok's steady voice talking her out from under the console of the wrecked Raven, Tuvok leading her out as her parents' ship collapsed, Tuvok co-piloting a shuttle with her in comfortable silence for two hours straight., Tuvok lying injured among alien captors and still telling her he was fine.

"Of course," she said. "He prefers privacy. I should respect his wishes."

"What else do you remember?" Chakotay watched her with both hope and concern as they walked through the door to a small laboratory with a huge screen. "This is Astrometrics, your workplace. What's it telling you?"

She stood by the console and touched the interface. The screen lit up with a map of the space surrounding them, including the Quarra system. Voyager was a small dot in its center. She glanced sideways, a movement that felt automatic, as if someone ought to be standing next to her. Someone younger, someone for whom she was responsible. Someone who liked to wear orange, had freckles across his nose, quoted Earth poetry at the most unsuitable occasions and had almost died to save her … and another person, a little girl with strawberry blonde hair and three spikes on her forehead, who played board gameswith her and reached up to be carried when she was tired or unhappy.

"Icheb and Naomi Wildman." The names crystallized the memories so clearly that she could almost see them in front of her. "My students. I forgot them. How could I forget them?"

"You were made to forget." Chakotay came to stand at Icheb's station next to her. "We'll get them back, Seven. I promise."

He placed one large, gentle hand on her back. It was a friendly gesture, meant to comfort her, but it startled her all the same.

Icheb and Naomi Wildman. She repeated their names over to herself as they left the room. She must never forget them again.

/

"Commander … how well do you and I know each other?" she asked as they stood in the turbolift. She didn't know why he wanted to show her a cargo bay of all things, but it seemed to be important to him.

She was asking because the way he'd touched her was still vivid in her mind. Was she used to being touched in her real life? Because in her Quarran life, she might as well have kept a force field around her at all times.

"Not too well, honestly." He frowned. "You might say we got off to a rocky start."

"Explain."

"Well … how much do you remember about the Borg?"

More than most sane people would ever want to know. "I remember that my parents left home to study them. I remember that we were assimilated when I was six years old. I remember spending eighteen years as a drone. Anything past that point, however, is … questionable. Was it really Dr. Kaden who liberated me?"

"No," said Chakotay, setting his jaw, as if even the thought of that man disgusted him. "If that's what you remember, it's a lie."

"I thought so."

"We did that. The Captain, the Doctor … and me."

Again, something clicked, just as it had done when she'd seen his face without the artificial ridges. If he had freed her, that would explain why she trusted him already. It would explain why it felt … right … when he touched her.

The turbolift doors slid open and she followed him into Cargo Bay Two.

It was lined with Borg alcoves. Fully functional regeneration units glowing with green light. If not for the shelves of cargo containers that filled most of the room, it would be like stepping onto a cube. She didn't know whether to feel at home, imprisoned, or both.

She knew which alcove was hers without being told: the one closest to the door. She stepped into it, her hands trembling with emotions she couldn't name.

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One … you will be assimilated … resistance is futile … A chorus of remembered voices whispered at the edges of her mind.

Chakotay looked up at her, his face uncanny in the green glow. "The Doctor would probably advise against my telling you this, but I think you deserve to know the truth. Captain Janeway made an alliance with the Borg against a species that threatened to destroy our galaxy. The Borg Queen sent you as her ambassador, but when the alliance fell apart, you tried to assimilate the ship."

We are the Borg … your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own …

"I have a Borg transceiver from a previous encounter with them, so the Doctor linked my mind with yours in order to stop you. We severed your connection to the Collective. I … I saw your memories. I reminded you of being human."

Seven of Nine, stop what you're doing. Memories of her parents in a green field, swinging her up into their arms. Papa teasing her about why she couldn't sleep. Mama piloting the Raven with her strong, elegant hands. And then the pain, the scorching, searing pain that had exploded in her left temple as her connection to the Collective – the only family she had left – was shattered.

"You violated me!"

The Commander did not flinch. "I had to. Your Collective would have destroyed my ship and stolen my people."

"You invaded my mind for your own purposes just as the Quarrans did." She was absolutely sick of people doing that.

"I didn't give you false memories. I just showed you the ones you already had."

"It hurt." She clutched her left temple in a futile effort to suppress the remembered pain. "You cut me off and … and you left me alone."

On reflection, that was what hurt the most. Not the momentary physical pain, but the hours upon hours locked up in Voyager's brig and in this cargo bay with nothing but her own voice echoing in her head. If the Captain hadn't come by to talk to her, and if Chakotay hadn't finally arrived to give her work in Engineering, it might have driven her insane.

"I was afraid," said Chakotay. "I'm sorry."

It was such an unexpected thing for him to say after his unrepentant logic of the moment before that she almost forgot her anger. Almost. "Afraid of what? I was a prisoner."

"The Borg scare me," he said with an uneasy look at the row of empty alcoves, as if he could see the shadows of drones inside them. "They always have. Mental illness runs in my family, my grandfather had it. He used to hear voices in his head that led him away from home and into the jungle, making him forget everything, even us. That's what the Borg remind me of. Being linked with you was the most terrifying thing that ever happened to me. That's why I stayed away from you for so long. I shouldn't have. I should have faced up to the responsibility what I'd done."

He was still looking up at her as she stood on the alcove platform, his dark eyes remorseful, his voice almost a whisper echoing through the cargo bay as he made his confession. Had he ever told her this before? Had he told anyone?

Of course the Borg scared him. They scared her too, all the more so because part of her still missed them. But if he was telling the truth – which he must be; the Quarrans' false memories had been much more convenient than this – that meant …

That meant Commander Chakotay had willingly entered his worst nightmare, not only to save his crew, but to save the enemy that threatened them.

It was too much to process at once. Now she knew how Tuvok must be feeling.

"Go back to Sickbay, Commander," she said, noticing dimly that her voice was hoarse and her eyes full of tears. "I require privacy."

"Of course." He turned away and headed for the doors, but before reaching them, he stopped to take something out of his pocket and place it on a cargo container. It landed with a metallic clink.

"I forgot to give you your new commbadge earlier. If you need anything … "

"Understood."

/

She was up until midnight, ship's time, reading her personal logs. Past Seven's life had certainly been exciting. All the power plant employees who had sneered behind her back at how boring she was would have eaten their words after reading these. Some of the stories she would be grateful never to remember, but others brought tears to her eyes or a smile to her face. The presence of friends, mentors and even rivals was humbling in its constancy; all that time, they had been there for her. She had never been alone.

Chakotay had been right to say they did not know each other well. He appeared in them quite rarely, and usually in a professional context: Commander Chakotay has assigned me to assist Ensign Kim in building a new astrometric facility, for example. But she had always written good things about him, which was more than could be said for Lieutenants Paris or Torres, Ensign Kim, even Captain Janeway or the Doctor.

Stardate 51781.2: I have witnessed perfection. For several seconds, I stood in the presence of Omega particles before they were destroyed. Captain Janeway warned me that they were too dangerous, but Commander Chakotay understood. He knows what it means to look into the face of one's gods.

Stardate 53049. 2: We have discovered the origins of the neural link between Marika, P'Chan and Lansor. I created it. When we were drones stranded on an alien planet, I forced this link upon them in order to return us to the Collective. They are right to blame me. They demand that I sever the link, but that will kill them. What should I do? I asked Commander Chakotay for advice, as he was once linked to Riley Frazier's Cooperative. He did not judge me. He simply asked me what I would choose if I were in their place.

Stardate 53292.7: We have retrieved the Ares IV module and held a memorial for the deceased pilot. His name was Lieutenant John Kelly. He followed baseball, kept his wife's photograph on his console, took readings of the anomaly that trapped him until he died, and faced his death with enviable courage. I wish I had not been so impatient with the Commander when he insisted on studying the module. He was correct; the past has much to teach us. But why did I tell him about wanting to study ballet when I was a child? No one else knows about that.

Stardate 53679.4. These children are impossible. Today I caught Mezoti making unauthorized calls in Astrometrics, Azan and Rebi cheating at kadis kot, and Icheb throwing his game pieces on the floor. I am not fit to be their guardian, no matter what the Captain says. Chakotay tells me I should allow them more freedom, but what if that only makes them worse? Still, perhaps he is correct. I could do worse than follow his advice.

So her past self had trusted him and valued his opinions. She clearly hadn't held what he termed their "rocky start" against him. But she'd also taken him somewhat for granted; she'd never asked him about Riley Frazier's Cooperative (which must have been where he got his Borg transceiver), where he'd learned about taking care of children, or what his earliest ambition had been. (Paleontology; he'd told her so during the Ares IV mission. Her memories really were coming back.),

Also, past Seven must not have observed him very closely. If she had, surely she'd have noticed how attractive he was, or what a pleasant voice he had, or how warm and strong his hands were …

She closed the file, tossed her padd into its box with a clatter and slammed the lid shut, scolding herself roundly for such irrelevant thoughts.

/

"Seven to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

It was oh-seven hundred. She had just stepped out of the sonic shower and put on a clean exosuit (much more comfortable than Dr. Kaden's version, and lighter too without having to wear her uniform on top). She felt a little more like herself (whoever that was), and marginally braver. But if she hadn't commed him now, she might have lost her nerve.

"I was just on my way to see you." Did he sound relieved, or was that just the sound quality? The commbadge had a strange echo effect; perhaps it was malfunctioning. "Neelix tells me our crewmembers will start arriving today. They've talked to social workers from the hospital who are trying to prepare them, but they'll still be disoriented. Icheb and the Wildmans will be in the first group, since the kids are underage. We could use your help."

"Certainly, Commander."

"The Doctor wants you to come by Sickbay for your next treatment and, um … Kathryn's got a lot of questions. I think she'd prefer a familiar face. And when you have the time, B'Elanna needs a hand in Engineering. Our systems still haven't recovered from the Quarrans' last attack."

Had he actually been screening her from their shipmates' requests? When she'd asked for privacy, he had taken her at her word.

"I will meet with them as soon as possible."

She had her work cut out for her, as her supervisor on Quarra would say. It sounded like in the near future, she'd hardly have time for her regeneration cycle, let alone a private word with Chakotay. That only made it all the more important to speak to him now.

"Commander, where are you?"

"Right here."

She rounded a corner and there he stood, holding a steel thermos in one hand and a strawberry milkshake in the other. He held the latter out to her with an uncertain smile.

"I did say I was coming to see you," he said. "B'Elanna got the replicators working."

The plastic cup was perfectly chilled, the milkshake sweet and frothy. "This is excellent. How did you know … ?"

"I see you in the mess hall sometimes. We're both creatures of habit."

She opened her mouth to thank him, but what came out instead was, "Please forgive me for my outburst yesterday. I should not blame you. First the Collective, now the Ministry of Health … this is the second time you have risked your sanity to save mine."

Chakotay ducked his head and laughed softly. "I was about to ask you the same thing. This is the second time I basically abducted you… I guess I'm hoping our next introduction will be a little more civilized. If there's anything this disaster has taught me, it's how much we can learn from looking at old friends through the eyes of a stranger."

Old friends. Civilized introductions. A memory bubbled up, one of reading flash cards with the Doctor in Sickbay and needling him about the pointlessness of the exercise. She would have to apologize to him too someday, as it hadn't been pointless at all.

She switched the milkshake to her left hand and held out her right one.

"My name is Seven. It is a pleasure to meet you."

He took her hand in a warm, solid grip.

"Mine's Chakotay, and I'm pleased to meet you too."