A/N As promised: Epilogue! As cautioned: Super long epilogue.

First officer's log stardate 54930.1.

After returning safely to Voyager, The Doctor prescribed a full day's rest for all of us. Borg included.

The captain sent down a team to conduct further studies planet-side. Much of what happened there remains a mystery to us. The words of an old Earth author, Arthur C. Clarke, have been running through my mind: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

I find myself wondering what other lessons we may have experienced. Perhaps one of them held the key to this culture's history, who they are, where they are now. We will probably never find out.

B'Elanna was all for us beaming the obelisk into one of our cargo bays for further study, but after everything we experienced one thing is clear: this technology is far beyond our understanding. We decided to play it safe and leave well enough alone.

I did manage to convince the captain to let me keep one memento though, and I know someone who would definitely like to take another look at it.

Seven was feeling more refreshed than she had in days. She'd spent just under 27 hours regenerating, had scrubbed herself clean of even the tiniest trace of mud and had replicated an entirely new biosuit. Her hair was pinned up again, out of the way, she was well-fed, unemotional, safe. If ex-drones could be feeling on top of the world, that's what she was feeling as she exited the cargo bay, engrossed in the latest star chart analysis.

"Ah, Seven! I was just coming to see you."

It took as long as those words took to reach her ears for her elated emotional state to completely dissipate. She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly, cocking an eyebrow.

"Commander," she greeted Chakotay.

She'd known it was coming. She'd almost forgotten in her delight at being back on the ship. But she had expected, as soon as it became clear that they would be returning, that he'd eventually want to address what she'd confessed about the holodeck.

She was surprised to see that he was smiling pleasantly. Her heart rate increased of its own volition.

"I thought The Doctor told you to take time off," he said, indicating the PADD she was carrying.

"I have taken time off. I am now able to return to my duties," she said, without emotion.

The hint that he was currently keeping her from them didn't seem to register. He reached into his pocket and withdrew something.

"We thought it best to leave everything on the planet as it was. But I thought you might like to keep this."

He opened his hand to reveal the "key", the odd stone with the amber-like centre that had somehow triggered their impromptu geology lesson.

"Where did you find it?" she asked as she accepted it.

"I just asked them to run a scan of the area and beam it up. It was still buried at the base of the obelisk."

Seven's brow furrowed, "And you did this for me?"

"Well yes, you did seem rather desperate to get another look at it. Swimming in the mud, digging in the snow… would be a shame for all of that to go to waste."

She was going to explain that she'd been more interested in possibly stopping the rapid environmental changes than retrieving an otherwise unremarkable stone, but when she saw his expression she realised he wasn't being serious.

"Thank you," she said. "Perhaps it will give us further clues about our 'school founders'."

"Hopefully. If not, it's still a good souvenir. You can keep it with that blanket."

She smiled despite herself and ducked her head.

"I wanted to talk to you about another matter," he said.

She looked up sharply. A feeling of dread descending.

He shifted uncomfortably. His eyes darted down the corridor behind her. He took a deep breath. Then they focused on her face again.

"Those holodeck simulations…" he began.

Her heart sank.

"I… I was interested to know… I mean I understand you were just experimenting and it was entirely research-focused but-"

He stopped himself, taking another deep breath. "Believe it or not I used to be quite good at this," he said wryly.

"This?" she inquired.

"Asking girls on dates."

She felt her eyes widen, blood rushing to her face.

Chakotay ploughed ahead, obviously registering her shock. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have asked. I mean you have that emotional fail-safe for one thing and I'm not your hologram, as much as I may look like him. I just thought… well I enjoyed the time we spent together over the last few days - you know, the parts when we weren't facing imminent death... I'd like to spend more time with you..."

His sentence trailed off. He was looking at her, as if waiting for her to say something, or else afraid that he had said too much.

Words. Sentences. Social lessons. Why was her mind not functioning? She cleared her throat.

"I would like that," she said, avoiding his eyes. "But I must caution you, I have somewhat limited experience of dating. I am not aware of the required rituals. I would have to do research."

She glanced up at him.

He was nodding. He seemed surprised, as if he hadn't actually expected her to accept. She recalled feeling much the same way after she'd invited the holographic version to dinner.

"Well," he said, "You do the research and let me know what an appropriate first date would be. And when," he indicated her PADD with his eyes, "When you're free."

"Eighteen hundred hours," she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Tonight, eighteen hundred hours. If you are available," she said.

He nodded. "Yes. I get off duty at seventeen hundred."

"It's a date then?" she inquired.

"Yes," he said.

"I should go to Engineering," she said, not moving.

He nodded again, completely unaware that he'd hardly stopped nodding for the past five minutes. "I… I'm sure I have work to do."

"I will see you later?" she asked.

"Yes. Later," he said.

She turned and walked away, resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder.

Naomi was sitting in her room when she heard the door chime.

"Come in."

Icheb stuck his head around the door, "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

She grinned, shifting over on her bed to give him room to sit beside her, "Actually I was just thinking about you." She patted the place next to her.

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows and took the proffered seat.

Naomi showed him the PADD she was holding. "I've been working on your story. The one about the boy and the wind. I think you might have the seeds of something there."

He took the PADD and Naomi watched anxiously as his eyes moved over what she'd written so far. For a few minutes the beeping as he scrolled down was the only sound in the room. Then he looked up, a smile appearing.

"You've taken some creative license I see."

She shifted closer, pointing to the screen, "Well you see I thought it would be more exciting if he lived on a planet that had no wind but did have dinosaurs. And there's this one that's invisible and everyone thinks it's a ghost but –"

Icheb held up a hand to silence her, passing her back the PADD. "Don't spoil it. I'd prefer to read it when it is complete."

She grinned.

"So did you sing to The Doctor? You did say you were going to."

The smile disappeared from Naomi's mouth as she twisted it in distaste. "He spent about half an hour lecturing me about how to improve my vocal range. I think he completely missed the point."

"Maybe he feels you have a future as an opera singer?" Icheb commented.

Naomi stuck out her tongue at the idea.

"Oh, I forgot," Icheb said. "You're going to be a Starfleet Officer."

Naomi looked down at the PADD as she answered carefully, "Actually, I'm not so sure about that anymore."

Icheb leaned a bit closer, which was the Icheb equivalent of putting a hand on her shoulder. "The experiences on the planet were no doubt traumatic, but you shouldn't let that put you off."

Naomi shook her head. "It's not that. I mean it was scary. Seven and I called Neelix when we got back, before she went to regenerate, and I told him about what happened. He said, you know, Starfleet Officers get training for situations like that. I shouldn't feel bad about getting frightened. Seven and Chakotay both said the same thing. They didn't seem upset with me or anything."

"Of course they weren't upset with you," Icheb said. "You performed admirably."

She smiled shyly at him. Then continued, "It's not that I'm scared of being part of Starfleet. It's just that I haven't really known anything else, have I? Maybe I should explore other options, now that I've got the chance."

What she left unsaid was how certain she'd been that there was no possible way they'd make it out of that situation alive. It hadn't been a question of whether they would die, but how. And who would go first. Moments like that made one reflect on what was important. Her dream of joining Starfleet paled against the knowledge that she had known and experienced so little in the six years she'd been alive. Sure, she'd had her fair share of ship-wide emergencies and holographic adventures, but she hadn't really lived. She hadn't really discovered who Naomi was yet.

"I want to explore different things." She smiled again, and waved the PADD, "Starting with writing stories."

"You should ask Lieutenant Paris to help you write some holo-novels," Icheb suggested.

"That's a brilliant idea!" She said. "Do you think he'd like the story of the Boy and the Kite and the Dinosaur?"

"The title could use some work," Icheb suggested.

Seven was standing outside the doors of Holodeck Two looking anxious as Chakotay rounded the corner. She was wearing her burgundy biosuit and Chakotay was struck by the sudden fear that he was overdressed in his black slacks and plain cotton shirt. Seven visibly relaxed when she saw him approaching.

"Did you think I would stand you up?" he inquired.

Her eyes darted down the corridor.

"No," she said, clearly still uncomfortable. "This corridor is frequented by a great many crew members."

He raised his eyebrows, "Ashamed to be seen with me?"

It was a joke but she looked startled at the accusation. "No, Comm – Chakotay. I only meant that I did not wish to entertain their questions."

The crew was prone to gossip and he knew how uncomfortable personal questions made her.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the holodeck doors.

She paused with her hand hovering over the controls. Without looking at him she said, "I hope the simulation meets with your approval. I… am not very experienced at this."

She dialed in the open sequence and the doors slid aside.

As they stepped over the threshold, Chakotay found himself in the middle of Central Park in Earth's New York. He would have placed the date somewhere around the early 21st century by the dress of those around them. It was late afternoon and there was a variety of people on the grass, playing various old Earth games like Frisbee and baseball.

Chakotay turned back to Seven to make a comment but one look at her and words failed him. Her outfit had transformed from the biosuit to a dress of a light sea green. He didn't know about fabrics, but this one was light, clinging to her figure and then flaring just below the waist. The dress had a dipped neckline, was sleeveless and came to around her knees. She was wearing opaque tights below that. More striking than the dress was that her implants were gone. She appeared as she would have if she had never had a run-in with the Borg. She was in the process of letting down her hair. At his look she paused, an expression of concern passing over her features.

"Is this suitable attire?" she queried.

He nodded dumbly.

She held her arms out in front of her, examining her handiwork. "My unique physiology makes dressing in anything other than my biosuits a challenge. This way is simpler."

She looked up at him, realising he had not yet said anything.

"Chakotay? Something is troubling you?"

He closed the distance between them. He took her hand – the one that was usually veined with Borg technology – and looked at it carefully. Then he reached up to her face, gently touching the place where her ocular implant had been, just above her left eyebrow. He could feel it there, the holodeck just created the illusion of its absence.

"Computer, reveal Seven's implants," he said.

He heard her breath catch at the command, as her implants appeared again. He pulled away slightly, finding her staring at him. Then she blinked and looked down at her arms. The implant on her right upper arm seemed to cause her the most concern. He tilted her chin up, away from it.

"You look lovely," he said, looking into her eyes. And he meant it. Seeing her in that dress did things to him that would set off her emotional fail-safe. But he wanted to see her, implants and all.

Her gaze flickered downward. "Thank you," she said softly.

He stepped away. "So, New York?"

She nodded, gesturing to a pathway near them. He walked towards it and she fell into step beside him.

"I remembered that you enjoyed time outside, in nature. I conducted research into appropriate first dates and I believe I have found something suitable."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued.

"Shakespeare."

His step faltered. "Shakespeare?"

"You are familiar with his work?" She inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"Vaguely," he said. "He's one of Earth's great playwrights. I didn't know you were a fan."

"I'm not," Seven admitted. "However, The Doctor has been trying to persuade me to broaden my cultural horizons. While browsing through the holodeck database this afternoon, I discovered that Shakespeare's plays were often performed here, as a matter of tradition. Since my research indicated that a trip to the theatre was a suitable first date, and considering your aforementioned penchant for the outdoors, I devised that this would likely be a fitting scenario."

Chakotay wasn't even aware that he was smiling. He found her attention to detail, and consideration, touching.

"Does this meet with your expectations?" She asked him, looking at him appraisingly. They were coming up to the stage now, it was circular and raised. Stands were erected surrounding it so that the audience could observe from a good vantage point.

"Actually," Chakotay said, "I thought you might introduce me to your hologram friend."

Seven's face fell. She coloured, looking away from him quickly.

"I deleted him," she said.

Chakotay immediately regretted saying anything. He could see she was immensely disturbed by the subject. He touched her arm.

She looked up. In the dimming light as evening fell over the park her expression seemed tortured.

"Does it not disturb you?" she asked. "Knowing what I did?"

"Well I don't know exactly what you did…" he said. But, seeing the guilt in her eyes, he decided on a different tack.

He took a deep breath. "I won't lie to you. When you first told me, I was shocked. I mean the idea of someone interacting with something that looks and talks like me and, for all intents and purposes thinks it is me, without my knowing, is kind of..."

He was going to say "disturbing", but didn't want to compound the emotions she was already feeling. He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realised, everyone has fantasies. I mean, even The Doctor."

"And we saw how that turned out," Seven said, uncharacteristically looking down at her feet.

"Yes but you're not a hologram."

"But I'm not normal either."

"No you're not."

She looked up sharply.

He stepped closer again, reached up and cupped her face in his hand. "You're different, but that's not always a bad thing. It just means you handle things differently from how others do. You are unique."

He let his hand drop, taking her Borg hand again and looking down at it. "Everyone runs those 'experiments', Seven. It's just usually in the recesses of their own minds, not in the holodeck. I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't flattering to be the object of your fantasy."

He glanced up at her. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips were slightly parted. What I wouldn't give to kiss those lips… Chakotay thought. She blinked.

He gestured towards the stage with his head. She nodded. They continued walking, but he kept hold of her hand.

They shuffled into seats front and centre. Seven paid rapt attention to the stage, straightening her spine and folding her hands in her lap. The stands were soon full of people chatting amongst themselves. Seven paid them no heed, her attention remaining completely focused on the stage in front of her. Chakotay took the opportunity to observe her. He felt his heart rate increase as he did so. Her blonde hair, now clean, was falling in soft locks over her bare shoulders and her back, where the dress dipped. Her hair stirred as a temperate breeze blew over them, smelling of freshly cut grass. He also caught the scent of her perfume. Seven of Nine, wearing perfume? It was an unmistakable delicate floral fragrance. Perhaps her research had indicated it would be pleasing. He wouldn't put it past her to research that kind of thing. Or perhaps she always smelled like this? Perhaps he'd just never noticed.

You have it bad, he realised. Try to analyse it all you want, but fact of the matter is, you're crazy about her. The ex-Borg who you, once upon a time, tried to toss out an airlock.

The lights surrounding them dimmed, plunging the area into near darkness. The city still brightened the horizon. Trees that formed the wings of the stage became silhouetted against the sky. Dark figures weaved in and out of those trees, setting a scene. Then the lights came up and the show began. It became apparent that they would be treated to a performance of The Taming of the Shrew.

About half way through the show, Chakotay noticed that Seven was shifting uncomfortably.

"Something the matter?" he asked her.

"It is… disconcerting," she answered.

"The language?"

"No."

The woman next to her turned to them and shushed them.

"Computer, freeze program," Chakotay said.

Seven looked at him, eyes widened in surprise.

"You're not enjoying the play?" Chakotay asked her.

Her eyes darted to the stage where the two main characters were frozen, in the middle of an argument.

"It seems to me that the protagonist of the story does not desire the heroine for any reason other than financial gain," Seven said. "Furthermore, he treats her poorly, intentionally making her uncomfortable in an effort to bend her to his will."

"This play was written a long time ago. In a less enlightened age," Chakotay explained. "Marriage for reasons other than love was not unusual. As for the way he treats her, I agree it's not ideal. But he's holding up a mirror, showing her how her own unconventional actions affect those around her."

"Killing her with kindness?" Seven quoted part of a speech he had just finished giving. Then she frowned deeply, her eyes still focused on the stage. "I am unconventional," she said.

"Seven…"

She turned back to him, "It's true, Commander. The captain has said it on many occasions."

She seemed to realise she'd made a misstep. She looked down at her lap, where her hands were still clasped. "Chakotay, would you… prefer me, if I was more conventional?"

"Of course not!" he said.

"Would you not say that I am likewise 'mad with headstrong humour'?" Again, she quoted the play, eyes fixed on her hands.

"Seven," he reached over, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him in response to the touch. Her eyes, in the half-light, seemed inexorably sad.

He found himself wondering how he had never noticed this before. Perhaps he had been so wrapped up in her outer demeanor – the one that could be pushy and opinionated to the point of insubordination – that he hadn't seen it. Now she suddenly seemed to click into focus. He realised, looking at her here, like this, that everything she did was undercut by a deep sense of inadequacy, of constantly failing to achieve the perfection she set out to. Even the way she explained herself, as if every action had to be backed up by research and study, just in case she was in error, hinted at that underlying self-deprecation.

Like the hiding of her implants, she'd try to project an image over her Borg upbringing with social particulars she'd learnt on Voyager. However, like the implants, all that history was still there, shining through in the words she used, in the way she spoke, in the way others treated her. Chakotay remembered her analogy of the flying machine: I am that machine. I am merely attempting to become a bird. I will never be a bird, but I may well develop the ability to fly.

He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and said softly, earnestly. "I like you fine just the way you are. Implants and all."

Her eyes dipped downwards again, "I'm uncertain you are in the majority in that regard."

He took both of her hands in his. "You should have seen the trouble B'Elanna had when we first joined Voyager. You want unconventional, that's probably your yard-stick. She broke Carey's nose."

Seven looked stunned, her eyebrows shot up.

"They were vying for the Chief Engineer position," he said by way of explanation.

"Lieutenant Torres has hinted to me that she had difficulty," Seven said. "I believe her words were that if she could adjust, I certainly could." She seemed to contemplate this, then said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I've been here three years…"

"And you were raised by the Borg," Chakotay said. He sighed. Then said, "Computer, set time index for 14h00."

The computer beeped and slowly the light around them brightened. Seven looked surprised.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm assuming you don't want to see the end of the play?"Chakotay asked. When she only blinked, he continued. "Computer, remove spectators and performers."

"You wish to end our date?" Seven asked.

"No no," he put in hurriedly. He stood up, still holding one of her hands, and began leading her back along the stands. "There's more to do in Central Park than watch theatrical performances with outdated ideas. Have you ever heard of roller-skating?"

They hired skates from a man who appraised Seven openly, with ill-concealed lust. Chakotay felt the urge to delete him, but he didn't think Seven had noticed his leering so elected not to draw attention to it. He helped her attach the skates and then get to her feet. She clung on to his arm for support.

"I'm not certain that I find this activity enjoyable," she said.

"Relax, the safeties are on. If you fall, I'm sure the holodeck will provide a soft landing for you."

He tutored her in the basic technique on a flat piece of ground. He had to catch her only once as she lost her balance, then she seemed to get the hang of it.

"It's a strange sensation," she said, still sounding unconvinced about the activity. "I feel… at a loss to control my own movement."

"That's the point," Chakotay explained. He held her hands in his. "The enjoyment comes from letting go."

As he said that, with a wicked grin, he pushed her away from him. She went spinning backwards, her arms flailed, a look of horror passed over her face, and then she got her balance. He came for her again, to push her, but she was too fast, skidding out of the way. He caught her arm and they spun together. He drew her in, looking down at her, his desire for her beating just beneath the surface.

The smirk was the only warning he got before she pushed sharply against his right shoulder, sending him spinning away from her, and then she was off, skating down one of the paths. He took that as a challenge and set off to capture her. They raced across the park, holographic pedestrians diving out of the way just in time as they streaked passed. He caught up with her at an intersection, grabbing her elbow and spinning her around so she was backed against a tree. She was smiling, laughing. Her eyes were sparkling. Mission accomplished. He stroked hair away from her face.

"I want to kiss you," he said.

Her expression changed completely, face falling as she stared up at him. She shook her head.

"That is not advisable," she said.

"Because you don't want me to or because of that fail-safe?"

"The latter," she said. He felt his heart soar. She swallowed and seemed to be looking anywhere but at him.

"Perhaps this was a mistake," she said. "I mean dating… when I know I can't…"

He stopped her with a finger over her lips.

"Seven, I just want to spend time with you. No emotions required." Liar said a voice at the back of his mind. But she smiled softly. It was the kind of smile that told him what he'd said came as a relief to her. He was glad of that, even if it was far too late to prevent his own emotions getting involved.

"Now, we should probably find something to eat," he said.

They skated side-by-side around the park. Neither of them were familiar with it, so they weren't exactly sure where they might discover somewhere to eat. Chakotay saw there was a zoo, but seeing animals locked up didn't appeal to him. There was also a huge mosaic for a singer who had, apparently, been assassinated. There were hotdog stands, but Chakotay explained he was vegetarian. This seemed to surprise Seven.

"I regret I may have fed your holographic self meat," she said.

He'd had a hearty laugh at that. Especially when she amended the statement by adding that he had, in fact, replicated chicken for them the one night.

"I hope I don't come as a disappointment after him. It sounds like he was quite a catch," Chakotay said as they settled on a bench with ice-cream, the only food they'd been able to find. He was only half joking.

She surprised him by saying, "You've already surpassed him."

He looked at her when she said that, and she turned her face away, pretending to be absorbed in pealing the wrapper off her snow cone. He caught a slight blush touching her cheeks.

As the light began to fade over central park for the second time, he suggested they should probably call it a night.

They skated their way back to the man who'd loaned them the skates. Of course, they didn't have to. But it was a way of drawing out their departure. Chakotay took a final look at Seven in the sea green dress before calling for the exit.

Once outside, she stood with her back to the doors, her hands draped behind her back.

"Thank you, Chakotay." She smiled at the use of his first name. "I had an enjoyable evening."

He turned to face her, looking down at her and trying to commit to memory the happy blush across her cheeks, the soft smile on her lips.

"I did too," he said. "I'd like to do this again. Soon."

"Tomorrow?" she suggested. His heart jumped to his throat.

"I get off at 17h00. Do you have an activity in mind?"

He rested his arm against the doors above her head. His closeness didn't seem to make her uncomfortable. If anything, more colour rose to her cheeks.

"I… I could do some research," she said, her eyes flicking to his arm and then to his face. "Was this in line with what you would expect from a first date?" she asked.

He felt a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth but endeavored to keep a straight face as he said, "Well except for one thing."

She raised her eyebrows, "Please elaborate."

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well there's this tradition, if a first date has gone well, but I wouldn't want to risk triggering that fail-safe."

Her eyes grew larger as she looked up at him.

Naomi was marching along the corridor beside Lieutenant Paris, filling him in on the basic story. He seemed amused. She hoped it was at the content of her story and not at the story itself. She'd managed to get him to agree to come with her to the holodeck after his duty shift ended so she could show him what she had in mind for the protagonist. She was looking up at him, trying to analyse his expression, when he stopped.

"Well that's interesting," he said softly.

She followed his line of sight.

Just visible around the corner, outside the doors of Holodeck Two, Seven of Nine and Commander Chakotay where standing together, talking. She was in her biosuit, but her hair was loose. He was out of uniform, in black pants and a white shirt. Seven had her back to the holodeck doors and she was smiling – smiling – up at him. He looked at her long and hard. Then he leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

Naomi's jaw dropped open. She glanced at Lieutenant Paris. His eyes were wide and then he grinned. He tilted his head back up the corridor, in the opposite direction of the couple.

"I think we should come meet your protagonist some other time, don't you?" He said, his voice barely a whisper. She nodded.

Naomi stole a final glance over her shoulder as they left. Seven was blushing, but still smiling. Chakotay was gazing down at her, his eyes half-lidded, battling to suppress a grin of his own as evidenced by deep dimples at the corners of his mouth.