"The conference starts at 9:00." My coworker reminded me, through the phone I held pressed against my ear. Glancing over at the microwave, I noted that it was almost eight already. Well this was just great; only one hour to get there and prepare the report I was supposed to present at the meeting. Damn. I'd meant to have it done days ago, but work had been hectic. "You're the supervisor, people expect you to clock in on time."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Before he had a chance to counter, I hung up the phone and ran to grab my shoes and a jacket. It usually took me at least three hours to put these kinds of reports together, god knew how I was going to do it in less than one. I poured the remainder of the morning coffee from the pot into a travel mug and raced out to my car. On most days, I would have cursed at the pedal-heavy drivers swerving madly between lanes, but today I was desperate. It was during one of those risky maneuvers that I felt my car connect with something solid, producing a thump and a muffled scraping noise. Realizing I must have bumped another vehicle, I cursed and pulled over. I didn't have time for this, but it'd be easy enough to collect contact information and then let my insurance deal with the rest. When I stepped out from the driver's seat, I didn't immediately notice a car. I thought maybe they'd just driven away, when I spotted a bicycle lying abandoned on the street.

"Oh my god!" Gasping, I noticed a young woman with a helmet pulling herself unsteadily to her feet. I raced over to her, all thoughts of the meeting momentarily gone. "Are you alright?" I wasn't sure why I was even bothering to ask when the answer was quite clearly a no. Skidding along the road had rubbed some of the skin off her forearms and face and I noticed a few pieces of glass, probably from the road, lodged in her skin. Her helmet had cut through some of the skin on her forehead, producing an ugly wound that was already starting to turn purple.

"I am fine." The blonde coolly replied, brushing away some of the black dust that had settled on her tight cyclist clothing.

"No you're not." I winced as blood began to drip down the side of her face, though the woman seemed not to pay much attention to any of the pain she must be feeling. "I'm so sorry- I'll take you to the hospital!"

"That is not necessary." When her head turned to look at her bike, I noticed the cracks and scratches in the side of the helmet from sliding across the road. If she hadn't been wearing it, she'd probably be dead. I could be in jail for manslaughter… not exactly the way I'd been planning on spending my Christmas vacation. It was the least I could do to help the woman out.

"It's no big deal, it's only a couple of blocks away from here." I insisted, "You might have a concussion or something." The last thing I needed was for her to go home and die of internal bleeding or something and then get sued by the family later.

"I am-" The woman started, but cut herself off when she attempted to take a step forward. Though she didn't scream or cry out, I could tell that the action had pained her. Carefully, she leaned most of her weight on one foot. Hopefully it was just a strain and nothing broken, but I had a feeling that I may as well assume the worst. Turning back to me now, the cyclist tried a different line of argument. "Seeing as how it is your driving that caused this incident, I am not sure it would be wise for me to trust your abilities." I felt my cheeks burn at this one. I'd only ever gotten in one accident before, and that was because I had trouble parking when I was a kid. Most days, I was actually very careful and cautious at the wheel. Just my luck.

"What are you going to do, walk?" I hadn't meant for it to sound so defensive. We stared at each other, almost challenging the other to back down. "You're just going to have to trust me."

"Fine." She finally hissed, not sounding as if she were truly convinced. Neither of us moved for a moment, before I approached her and started to lift one of her arms over my shoulder. She stiffened suddenly and drew back, startled. "What are you doing?" I noticed the way that her fingers tightened around the straps of her backpack, as if she were afraid I was going to rip it from her back. Ignoring this and her efforts of protest, I hooked her arm around my shoulder and allowed her to lean her weight onto my form.

"You have to get to the car first." And I didn't see any crutches lying around. It was true that the woman was taller than me by a good four or five inches, but that actually put my shoulders at a better level for her. She didn't respond, but didn't resist any further as I helped her hobble along. Before we got into my car, I removed any of the glass we could find from her appendages. As I secured the woman inside, I tried not to think about how I'd have to take the car in to the shop to get the dents worked out of the side and to have the blood and dirt removed from the seat. Suppressing these thoughts for the time being, I went back to drag her bike to my vehicle and threw it into the backseat area. It was only after I returned that I realized I'd left my purse and ID badge out and the stranger woman alone with it. Just because she was hurt didn't mean she wasn't capable of getting any ideas. However, my possessions looked undisturbed. If she'd gone through them, she'd done a fine job of it. I was just pulling onto the road when my phone rang. I was tempted not to answer it, but that would just get me into even more trouble. So instead I put it on speaker so that I could drive at the same time.

"Kathryn, where are you? The meeting is in forty-five minutes and Anna from reception says you haven't even come in yet." Though the cyclist was staring out the window, I could tell that she was listening intently, perhaps for more clues about me.

"I've just run into some delays, Chakotay, I'll be there as soon as I can." No, I literally ran into a delay. Obviously it was not my goal to be late, but this was more important than impressing some paper-pushers. If I missed the meeting, so be it. "Is there anything else you needed?" A pause.

"No."

"Well then I'll get there when I get there." Hanging up now, I noticed that the woman was looking at me.

"If it's an inconvenience-"

"I have plenty of time." Far from it, but I didn't need a random stranger worrying about my problems as well. We didn't speak the rest of the way there, which fortunately wasn't far. I helped the woman to get to the emergency room, made sure I left all of my contact information with her so that I would be able to pay for some of the damages, and then quickly scurried back to my car. It was already 8:45 by the time I made it up the elevator to my office, where Chakotay was waiting. I braced myself for him to bite down on me for being so late, but instead he casually greeted me as if it were a normal day at the office.

"I thought you should know, I looked at the wrong day on the calendar." He laughed, "The conference isn't until tomorrow."

"You're kidding me." I knew he was expecting me to be overjoyed, but I was anything but amused. If I hadn't been rushing, the accident never would have happened. All that for nothing. "Alright. Thank you." I shooed him away from the room, shutting the door so I could think. I knew I needed to be working on the report for the conference, but all I could think about was the cyclist. Whether it was guilt or curiosity, I wanted to know how she was doing. Around ten, I decided to give her a call; she'd left her cell number with me back at the hospital.

"Hello?" A quiet, suspicious voice.

"Hi, this is Kathryn Janeway." My confidence suddenly faltered. Why would she want to talk to me? I was the one who'd put her in the damn hospital. She'd probably sue for harassment. I was tempted to hang up, but I couldn't be rude now. There was a silence. "From this morning?"

"Yes?"

"I was just calling to ask… how you were doing?" I knew it sounded stupid as the words left my mouth. The air was quiet for a moment, before I heard something in the background. Voices. I pressed my phone harder to the side of my head, turning up the volume. There were multiple people there, seeming to all be talking almost at once. I couldn't make out most of the words, but I got the feeling that they were unhappy. Probably just the family. Feeling as though I was being intrusive, I hung up and sat back in my chair, trying to focus on work again.

At the end of the day, I wasted little time hurrying to my car. As I was clicking my seatbelt, I noticed a black backpack on the floor in the back. I realized that it was the same one the cyclist had been wearing earlier. In our haste to check her in, she must have forgotten to pick it back up. Sure she'd be wanting it back, I called her to make arrangements. No answer. After a couple more failed attempts, I tried the hospital to find out when she'd been released.

"Ms. Hansen is still in recovery." The person on the other end of the phone informed.

"Really?" Surely her injuries hadn't been that severe. She should have been out of there hours ago. "It was just a minor accident." Hardly minor, but the receptionist didn't need to know that. There was a heavy silence in which I thought that the other party had hung up. I was about to lift the phone away from my ear and try again when the other woman finally said something.

"Are you a family member?"

"A very close friend." A lie, but how would she know?

"Well I suppose it's all public knowledge by now…" Muttering in such a low voice I thought maybe I wasn't supposed to hear that part. "Earlier today, a group of people claiming to be Ms. Hansen's friends attacked her."

"What?" My own voice was hardly above a whisper.

"She's in stable condition now and should be released as soon as we can locate the family." I thanked the receptionist and hung up, feeling a bit numb. Attacked? Why? I made my way back to the hospital now, careful enough that I wouldn't hit any more bicycles. When I got there, however, the staff would not let me in to see the woman. Frustrated, I gave them my name and insisted that they let Ms. Hansen know that I was there. After a short wait, I was finally permitted admittance into the small room where the blonde lie in a bed.

"Hi." I wasn't sure what else to say.

"Kathryn." She didn't smile, not exactly, but her tone indicated that she was glad to see me. "I was hoping you would return." It was then that I realized that in my hurry to get up and see her, I'd left the backpack back in the car. Cursing, I told her I'd be right back. "Wait! Leave it." She interjected, after insisting I explained to her what I was doing. "It is safer this way." Before I could ask what she meant, a doctor entered the room. The cover story of being friends held through, mainly due to the cyclist backing it flawlessly.

"Well," The man seemed relieved, putting a hand up to his balding head the fetch the pen that was behind his ear. "Annika has been treated for any serious injuries sustained during both incidents; there is no reason to keep her here any longer. We've been searching for close family to watch her for a couple of days while she recovers from her injuries, but so far we've come up empty-handed." No relatives? Perhaps she was from a different country and was the first to venture away from home. I hoped that was the case, and not something much worse. Before I knew what I was saying, I was volunteering myself as a temporary guardian.

"No," Annika sat up quickly, causing the doctor to frown. She herself seemed to quickly regret that decision, wincing and lowering herself back onto the pillows. "It is not safe."

"The police have apprehended the men and women who were here today." The doctor softly said, almost reminding the young woman of something he had said multiple times already.

"If it makes you more comfortable, we can return to your building." Probably not the wisest decision. For all I knew, this was an elaborate setup to get me kidnapped or killed. That's how it usually went in the movies. All paranoia aside though, I really needed to help this woman, to make up for even just a fraction of what I'd done. I still felt awful about hitting her with my car and to think that it had made her vulnerable to assault…

"Fine." Echoing her earlier sentiments. The doctor explained to me that the most serious injury that Ms. Hansen had sustained was a broken tibia, although she had also sprained her left wrist during the fall and required several stitches for some of the more serious glass wounds. Fortunately, the second attack had resulted in nothing more than a few cracked ribs and some defensive wounds on the hands. Mostly, the doctor just wanted to make sure that Annika was off her feet for the next few days, until it was time for the cast, and doing so would require another party present. The cyclist appeared to be quite stubborn; there was no way she was going to stay off her feet without constant reminder and force. In fact she looked somewhat resentful in having to be rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair.

"I know you have no reason to trust me, but-" I started, but was unable to finish.

"I trust you." Annika stared straight at me with her icy blue eyes. What reason did I give her to be so confident? I could be anyone. My driving certainly hadn't proved anything.

"Why?" All I'd done was put her in the hospital. I wouldn't trust me.

"You have not opened the bag." The backpack? I hadn't even thought to check what was inside.

"What's in the bag?" Now I was curious. Seven reached behind the seat and procured it, holding it carefully in her lap. She looked down at it now, as if deciding whether or not she should open it. Finally, she unzipped the backpack and held the flap down so that I could see the contents. It was filled with what looked like medications of some sort. "What is that." My eyes hardened, hoping I hadn't just assisted some sort of drug heist.

"Do not be alarmed, they are not exactly illegal." Somehow I didn't find that very reassuring. "The company I wor- used to work for is a private organization that manufactures these pills. I have discovered that their purpose is not so wholesome. I've decided to expose the business, but I needed proof. I was supposed to deliver these to a client, but I took off with them instead. I knew you would keep it safe."

"You left it here on purpose?" Anger and confusion welled up inside me. I felt like I had been used. "If that's what those people who attacked you were looking for, you could have gotten me killed!"

"I doubt it." I was about to interrogate her further, when suddenly Ms. Hansen shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "If you do not wish to be involved, no more participation is necessary. You will not be connected to this."

"But the hospital-"

"The security footage has been destroyed." And she knew this with such certainty? "I have a partner." As if that clarified things at all.

"Why didn't they just come bail you out of the hospital then?"

"He is a minor." Ah. So legally he couldn't sign any of the forms. I wasn't sure how I felt about a kid being involved with whatever scheme Annika was working on, but that was a little out of my control. "He will be waiting at my residence." Without further delay, the cyclist directed her to her house, a shabby-looking thing on the other side of town. As we were approaching the entry, we both noticed that the door was wide open. Suspicious, considering all that had transpired. Our fears were confirmed when I pushed her inside; all the drawers and cabinets were wide open, contents scattered all over the place as if they'd been thrown.

"You don't look very concerned." I remarked, noting that the woman was looking over everything with a sort of casual disinterest.

"No. Everything went according to plan." Annika explained, "My partner led them back here, first hiding a stash of placebos for them to find. When they thought they had obtained what I had stolen, they were no longer concerned with me. Without proof, it would not matter if I were to 'talk', so to speak. I pose no further threat to them personally." It certainly did sound like an elaborate plan.

"I still don't feel very safe about leaving you here. You'd better come back to my place."

"I assumed that was all a part of the cover story." The woman scoffed, looking surprised for once. "There is no need for you to continue the lie. Thank you for assisting us." Now she was thanking me?

"You may have thought it was all just to get you out of there, but I wasn't kidding around." I leaned against the doorway now, trying to look imposing. "I'll help you gather up your things and then both you and your partner are going to lay low at my place for a little while." I wasn't sure how long it would take to 'expose' this corporation, if they were even capable of doing so. But hopefully after that was accomplished, they'd get some sort of witness protection deal that would do more for them than I ever could. "This whole thing is my fault. If only I hadn't been so careless, you would have made it out of there without trouble." I felt the guilt start to eat way at me again.

"It is not your fault." Annika looked away then, as if troubled herself.

"What do you mean, of course it is!"

"I steered myself into your car." She still wouldn't meet my gaze. Stunned, I was unable to immediately say anything. I asked her why she would do that, though I still didn't completely believe her. "The plan hinged on them thinking they had me beat, out of the way. I would not have been able to outrun them for very long. So I rode along until I found a car that seemed right and then put myself at risk." She was crazy! There was no other explanation. Maybe the cyclist had taken a couple of the drugs herself. "So while you might think that I have been rather unlucky today, the opposite is actually true."

"She won't believe you." A male voice coming from one of the rooms caused me to jump. A boy, probably in his late teens, emerged. I assumed this to be the 'partner' that Ms. Hansen constantly referred to.

"It does not matter if she believes me or not." Annika insisted, "It does not change the facts." The young man and I stared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up.

"I'm Kathryn." I finally introduced, offering a hand.

"Icheb." The boy countered, not taking the appendage. Awkwardly, I retracted the offer. "We'd better get moving." He turned around and went back into the room he came out of.

"Due to the nature of our situation, my brother is highly suspicious of strangers." Annika explained, leading me to an opposite door. Brother? They looked nothing alike. Yet, there was something about the way they carried themselves, their attitudes and demeanor, that allowed me to see that they were actually quite similar. The woman didn't have an inordinate amount of possessions. I was able to easily load everything important to both her and Icheb into my car. Not much longer after that, we were pulling up the drive to my own moderately-large sized home. I didn't like to show it off much, but I was a higher-ranking member of my office which did come with a bigger salary. There would be plenty of room for everyone. Of course, my home was two-stories and I'd have to confine Annika to the lower level until she had the cast and was adept at crutches. I gave her the guest bedroom on the lower floor and Icheb one up nearer to me. I got the sense that he preferred this anyways, being able to keep a closer eye on me.

"You'll have to excuse the mess; I don't usually have company." I didn't have time to entertain guests and I certainly didn't have the energy or effort to keep the place pristine just for myself. Thankfully, it was not as bad as I'd remembered. Sure, there were used coffee mugs in almost every room. And yeah, maybe there were a lot of shoes cluttering the stairwell. But it wasn't like there was trash everywhere, or that the place was dirty or unclean.

"The conditions are satisfactory." Annika assessed, sizing up the place. I wheeled her to the couch and made her sit while Icheb and I unloaded the car. It was only when I was standing by the stairs that I heard a scratching at the back door, accompanied by a series of low whines and cries.

"Oh…" I'd completely forgotten. "I hope you two are ok with dogs. Mine wants to come in." Annika looked indifferent and Icheb merely nodded. I unlatched the door to the backyard and I had opened the door barely an inch when Mollie came barreling in, leaping over to the guests before I had a chance to restrain her. Icheb got down on one knee and allowed himself to be licked, dutifully rubbing the Irish Setter's ears and neck. This turned her attentions away from the tall blonde, who looked a bit put off by the animal. After a couple of minutes of attention, Mollie tired and went to the kitchen to check her food bowl. I was one the same page. It had been a long day and I was sure that everyone was hungry. After everyone was settled, we gathered in the kitchen for a very late meal.

"How long have you been planning this… heist?" I asked, setting a pot on the stove to boil. Spaghetti. Spaghetti was easy and something everybody liked, right? We were definitely going to have to discuss meals, but that could come later.

"Four days." Annika answered.

"Four?" I couldn't believe it. This was a scheme that should take at least a week to iron out… where did they even learn all of this? Wiping security files, covering their tracks, fabricating evidence. "And how exactly to you suppose you're going to expose all of this? You can't just walk into a police station with a bag full of drugs and start making accusations."

"We have more than just the medications, but they are the key piece."

"And we have a connection." Icheb input, which the woman quickly nodded along to.

"But you're injured now, surely that will slow things down a bit." Whether or not I was actually responsible for her well-being, I wasn't about to let Annika counter the doctor's orders and risk hurting herself for some stupid mission. Though, I had a feeling she didn't much want to do much physical activity. The pain medication she'd been given at the hospital would be wearing off soon and I could imagine that even without standing on it, her leg would be hurting her. The ribs were an entirely different case altogether. The siblings looked once at each other, before turning back to look at me.

"The plan was for me to die. I failed in that aspect." And she really did make it sound like she thought she had failed. "It would have been easier for the authorities to come across the backpack, which includes digital copies of the other evidence, themselves. This second strategy is much harder, more complicated, and less likely to succeed. It does not, however, revolve around my performance."

"Hey, no." My voice softened now and I dropped what I was doing to give her my complete attention. "You did not fail by not dying. You got lucky today; you must've had all your sevens lined up in a row."

"My what?" The woman frowned, confused.

"Sevens. You know, like a slot machine?" I was met with blank stares by the both of them. "You're over 21, Annika, haven't you ever been to a casino?" She shook her head no. "Well when you play slots, getting three sevens in a row means you hit the jackpot. It's very lucky."

"Why do they use that numeral?" Icheb inquired, seeming genuinely curious.

"I don't know, I guess just because the number seven is heavily associated with luck." This clearly wasn't a good enough answer for them, but I didn't have anything better to give. "Anyways, all I was saying is that you've been very fortunate today." I suppose if she was going to purposely get ran over anyways, it was better than she didn't die. I wasn't sure if that was something you could consider 'lucky' but it didn't seem like such a bad thing. The conversation died and we all ate our pasta in peace, content to just have a meal after the long day. Personally, I was just glad (and surprised) that I hadn't burnt anything. Maybe Annika really was lucky.

After we cleared the table, Icheb retired to his room. I suspected that he was going to try and get ahold of his contact, but he was very secretive about the whole thing and I figured it was best to just give him some privacy. I was tempted to also return to my own bedroom, but it was still early in the evening and I didn't want to leave the cyclist to her own devices. I sat her down on the couch, fetching her pillows and blankets despite her protests. Reluctantly, she allowed me to elevate her leg and then toss one of the fuzzier blankets over her form. Mollie came and settled at our feet, adding a sense of completeness that I hadn't felt for a long time. We settled on a movie, about spaceships and aliens and faraway planets. It was a little far-fetched and unrealistic for me, but Annika was captivated. I suppose the one redeeming quality was the cinematography; even if it was all just special effects, there was something so enchanting about images of stars and galaxies and landscapes of places I can never go. By the time the credits rolled, we were both yawning and ready for bed.

"Did you like the movie?" I asked, turning off the television.

"It was intriguing." The woman commented, "I find space very fascinating."

"So do I. But I guess that's why I married an astronaut." Though I'd said it as a joke, it still hurt. Even after all these years, I couldn't go unaffected by it.

"You are married?"

"Used to be. A couple of years ago, his rocket lost control of navigation systems and it took them beyond the reach of any space-faring vehicle; a rescue mission would have been impossible. I think it's still drifting out there." Well of course. That was kind of morbid though. I supposed one day we'd be able to retrieve the capsule. Hopefully not within my lifetime; that was not an experience that I wished to live through.

"That is unfortunate." Well… that certainly wasn't the response I was used to getting. Usually it was 'I'm sorry for your loss' or 'he's in a better place now' or even 'he died doing what he loved best' (although one could say I'm evidence of the contrary). Annika yawned again and I suggested we save idle chat for another day, a proposition the other woman readily accepted. Stiff from sitting in one position for so long, Ms. Hansen had a difficult time getting back into the wheelchair on her own. I helped her to the bedroom, making her promise to call me if she needed anything rather than fumble around for it herself. As I was leaving, I paused in the doorway and threw my head over my shoulder to say one last thing.

"Goodnight, Seven." Upon hearing my farewell, an amused expression spread across the woman's face. In the dim lighting, I could see the outline of stitches running along what was the worst cut, above her raised left brow. She didn't say anything against the nickname, so I made a note to continue to call her that. It fit her.

"Goodnight, Kathryn." It was as if we'd been friends for years already. Only when I had gotten ready for bed and was lying under the sheets with the light off did I remember the report.

A/N: this was meant as a standalone story, but I left a lot of potential for another chapter. one of these days I might continue it