Title: "Upbringings"
Author: Annie.
Pairing: Chakotay/Seven of Nine, friendships all around.
Rating/Codes: PG-13 (just to be safe), Action
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Minor violence (nothing gory).
Notes: This is a story set between "Endgame" and "Before Dishonor" (before Nemesis) with no other STV books in between (if you can call those books)… sorry, but I am a little biased in that opinion and am not likely to change my views any time soon. You don't have to read those to get this story. It's just my way of making sense of the way Seven's character has been butchered by other authors.

The stars shone pleasantly through the window as Captain Picard sat in his ready room. He was going over the reports Geordi La Forge had given him just an hour ago. They were standard reports, describing nothing of significance as the Enterprise had not gone through any battles or dangerous situations since their assignment began.

Jean-Luc sighed and ran his hand over his face, a face that seemed to grow sterner with fatigue. Momentarily giving his eyes a rest from staring at the Padd, Picard looked out his window to the surrounding stars and thought out all the worst case scenarios he could. It was a practice he had started some time ago as a way to keep his mind focused on the tasks at hand instead of the maddening boredom of endless reports. It also helped calm the mind when facing the uncertainty and dangers of space exploration.

The mission was simple. All the Enterprise had to do was go to the edge of the Beta Quadrant and discover what had happened to a developing planet. Two years ago, the USS Himalaya had found a small planet teeming with life and a developing population of humanoids. Starfleet had ordered the populace be left alone until proper resources could be spared to properly explore the sensitive planet. The Himalaya had been almost set to return when the crew received word that their trip was cancelled. Only a week ago a passing ship's scans revealed all that life had disappeared.

Sure, the mission was simple enough, but Picard had a bad feeling about it nonetheless. Picard's eyes trailed away from the Padd and stared at his desk while his conscience whispered to him in a constant litany, "Life doesn't just disappear. No planet has been sterilized, ever, especially not overnight." At least, thought Picard, not without interference. That was why Picard had immediately warned his crew to be ready and alert for anything unusual even though they weren't officially on alert status.

Riker's voice interrupted Picard's disturbed thoughts and drew him to the bridge. They were nearing the planet.

With the sight of everyone at their respective stations and ready for whatever might lie ahead, Picard felt minutely better. Deanna Troi gave him a tight smile and he nodded respectfully to her on his way to sit. Riker, on his right looked just as rigid as Picard felt.

As he placed his hands on the familiar, grey arms of his chair, Captain Jean-Luc Picard took in the sight from the view screen. In the velvety blackness of space and surrounded by white pinpricks of light from other planets and stars sat the now grey and brown planet.

He remembered the images he had been shown of the fruitful blue, green, white and yellow marble that had looked not unlike Earth just a week ago and spoke in a gruffer voice than he meant. "Report."

Riker glanced up from the screen of scrolling information in front of him. "No unusual radiation and so far we're not detecting any signs of a major disaster."

"No indications this was caused by a meteorite or large impact?"

"None."

"Looks like the scans were right," said Deanna. Her dark eyes were staring out the view screen ahead at the barren planet. "There doesn't seem to be a single -"

She was cut off as a large, brown object came hurtling towards them seemingly from nowhere. It was the size of a small shuttle and oval, moving towards them at incredible speed for something that seemed to have no propulsion system.

"Evasive maneuvers," Picard ordered and held on as the projectile barreled towards them.

The Enterprise ducked and swerved away from the brown pod-like missile just in time. She turned away from the planet and the engines engaged, but the missile turned just as quickly, hitting a nacelle.

The Enterprise bucked and rolled just as dozens of brown spatial rifts appeared. From them came more of the dark pods. They raced straight for the crippled ship.

---------

Even at 0500, the main offices of Starfleet were airy and filled with light, which streamed into them from skylights and large windows. Every office was decorated with the best desk and chairs, with the latest computer terminals and sparkled with precise cleanliness. Though the air was regulated, there wasn't a single office in Starfleet Headquarters that didn't have at least three plants on a desk, in a corner or on a windowsill.

Admiral Kathryn Janeway both loved and hated it. There was no denying that the offices were lovely, clean, and she never could complain of boredom. However, It was a far cry from being aboard a starship.

Though she wouldn't have given up her new commission for anything - 'Admiral' Janeway would always be preferable to simply 'Captain' Janeway - it was at times like these when she wished to be back out in the middle of space with nothing to worry about but her own little ship.

Grabbing her mug of coffee and a single, encrypted memo with a floor number and door code on it, Janeway left the spacious office. Her quick pace and grim expression were enough to clear a path in the sea of officers as she made her way down into the very bottom hallways of Starfleet Headquarters. The closer she came to her destination, the fewer people, computers and windows until she was the only thing or person in the corridors.

Though she knew where she was headed, Janeway had to remember to keep her steps confident and unfaltering. It wouldn't do to show her unease, but she had never been to this particular room before.

Ahead of her, a thick and solid grey door came into view. The two generic guards in front of it didn't give her a second glance as she keyed in her numeric code and bent over slightly to have her eye scanned.

Janeway had to take a deep breath to remain calm. The fact that this particular room had been chosen to brief the admirals indicated just how critical the situation was, whatever it was. The room itself was hidden in the deepest bowels of Starfleet and swept several times a day for electronic bugs. With only one door, no windows, one long table and a single console along the far wall for accessing Starfleet records, it was where the top leaders of Starfleet met to discuss the most ominous circumstances.

Admiral Owen Paris was already seated when Janeway stepped through the doorway. He didn't smile, but waved her over to sit beside him and together they waited until ten other admirals had likewise entered and seated themselves.

"Any idea what this is about, Owen?" she quietly asked, but he just shook his head.

"They wouldn't even tell me who called the meeting. Must be big for such secrecy."

Once the admirals were settled, a recording began to play. It was full of static and echoed in the otherwise silent room. Just when Janeway was about to ask what the point of listening to it was, a familiar voice spoke out of the static in spurts.

"-- card of -- Enterprise we -- help -- crash," said the distorted voice of Jean-Luc Picard. "There -- Starfleet -- many -- try -- infiltrate -- Starfleet -- help."

In the absolute silence which filled the room, Admiral Yates stood and addressed everyone. "We received this transmission only three hours ago from the Beta Quadrant where Captain Picard was on a reconnaissance mission. We have yet to hear anything more from the Enterprise or her crew. Scans thus far have shown nothing, not a single trace or particle to indicate where they were or where they went."

------------------

Into a small and dark apartment in San Francisco, a large cardboard box dropped unceremoniously to the floor. It rocked a moment, deciding whether to tip and spill its contents or stay upright. There was a faint sound of rubbing metal, but nothing broken. Chakotay stood above it a moment with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. Leaning against the box, he looked around, an uncharacteristic and irritable frown in place.

For an apartment, it wasn't what Chakotay had in mind, but it was the best he could do on such short notice.

Despite being back on Earth for over two months, not all of Voyager's crew had settled back into the flow of things. Almost all the ex maquis were still looking for permanent accommodations, many having lost their families and their homes. Still, it wasn't all bad. They had been pardoned and even offered positions in Starfleet. Most had taken the offers. Chakotay, wanting to follow his preferred career path and love of learning, decided to take a position working at an anthropological dig site in Mexico.

Faint lines of light on the far wall outlined where the blinds didn't completely cover the small windows. Chakotay closed the door and crossed to the far wall. Opening the blinds, bright sunlight burst into the room, searing Chakotay's eyes and though it did nothing to make the piles of boxes and drab colouring more inviting, at least now he could see clearly.

Rolling up the sleeves of his tan shirt, Chakotay pulled a box closer and sat on one of the lonely pieces of furniture, which happened to be a grey couch in front of a grey coffee table. He snorted in amusement at the décor, which had come with the apartment. Neither the couch nor the table could have been any more reminiscent of Starfleet unless it had the insignia stamped on it. The cushions were hard and though he shifted in hopes, Chakotay couldn't find any spot that was even a bit softer.

Sighing, he gave up and reached into the box. Clothing and a few trinkets like pictures and glassware from his time on Voyager were shuffled around and pulled out until he thought he had everything strewn on the couch and table.

Assuming the box was empty, Chakotay tossed it to the side and reached for the next. The box slid across the floor and hit the door. A lone item inside broke with the unmistakable sound of shattered glass. Looking down, he saw that he had taken out only three of four wine glasses.

----------

The sunshine seemed to be mocking Janeway in her solemn mood, but she pushed her irritation to the back of her mind. Shutting the blinds, she thought over the extensive list of Starfleet officers and scientists who were being considered for the mission to find the Enterprise.

Janeway pressed the commands into her console which would allow her to contact two of the people she had insisted and the rest of the admirals had decided were best for the job.

----------

"Damn it." Chakotay slapped his knees and jumped up. He grabbed a garbage bin from a corner in the kitchen, frustration building in him. His frown deepened as he approached the door. He bent down and seized the box, fully intending to just dump whatever was in it into the garbage. The glass was already falling into the bin when something else caught his attention.

Hidden by the glass and almost completely under the folds of the cardboard sat a piece of paper. Curious, he pulled it out. It was a picture, a hardcopy of one of many the Doctor had taken. However, unlike many of the faux pas moments the hologram had captured or the downright boring images of spores, this picture was of Voyager's crew.

The picture had obviously been taken awhile ago when Neelix was still onboard and before B'Elanna had a baby bump. On an unbelievably beautiful tropical beach, during one of their very few shore leaves, stood Harry, Tom with his arm around B'Elanna's shoulder, Kathryn Janeway, Seven, himself, the Doctor, Neelix, and Naomi in front of him, all wearing casual and blindingly colourful clothing. They were all leaning against each other to squeeze into the frame, some of them even forced to put their arm around their neighbour. Their pant legs were rolled up to avoid the sand and surf, but every one of them was smiling.

A chuckle escaped Chakotay's lips as he remembered how Seven had argued against the flowing outfit B'Elanna and Naomi had stuffed her into. Pretty much the whole group had had to work to convince her that she did not need to spend the shore leave finishing up extra work. Janeway, though aware of the crew's need for shore leave, had likewise needed to be persuaded. With a twinge of bitterness, Chakotay thought of how similar the two women actually were. It was probably why they were friends.

The longer Chakotay looked at it, the more he thought that 'pretty' didn't cover how Seven looked in the picture. Her white blouse was tied at her midsection, contrasting with the bright blue of her skirt and undershirt. She looked like she belonged there, among the endless waves and rocks.

Chakotay leaned forward, noticing for the first time how she was forced up against him. His arm was around her out of necessity as Neelix had insisted he and Naomi wouldn't fit into the shot unless everyone bunched up. Despite how crowded it had been, they both looked comfortable. He smiled, remembering how she had felt against him then and afterwards on their dates.

Unbidden, the memory of his last meeting with Seven flickered through his mind and the smile froze into a grimace. It had not been pleasant and if pressed, Chakotay might have admitted it was the reason for his recent moodiness. Although he had managed to comfort her during the standoff with the Borg Queen, she had still called off their relationship after a few blissful weeks.

He attempted to tell himself it was for the best, that she was only trying to do what was best for both of them. Still, it had hurt and his heart felt just as broken as it had when she told him they were no longer a couple. He had argued, debating with her for hours, refusing to give in, but she was determined and in the end there was nothing he could do, though he intended to take up his cause again once she had the chance to calm down.

For exactly 55 days, they had lived as he promised, within transporter distance. Actually, they had lived in the same apartment and it had gone well, very well. He had divided his time between work and Seven as equally as possible and she had done the same. Chakotay had been happier than he could ever remember. By her own admittance, Seven had felt the same. However, their enjoyment in each other's company had eventually become inadequate for her.

The animosity of the rest of the quadrant had pressed on Seven. Even the Starfleet officers conducting the debriefings had set themselves as far away from her as possible and shown their ill will through their tone of voice and stiff body language. She had been upset after that, but a few encouraging words from Janeway and himself had calmed her fears for a time. Still, Chakotay was not blind.

The longer they were on Earth, the more obvious it became that Seven was not entirely trusted by either Starfleet or the general populace. Cold stares, angry whispers, and sometimes even shouting and jeers followed her wherever she walked. At first, it hadn't bothered either of them much. His only concern about it had been for her feelings. After awhile, though, it had worn on her nerves, making her feel as though she didn't deserve the good life and friends she had found on Voyager.

After Chakotay had a confrontation with a co-worker, she had begun to feel guilt. The conflict had occurred while Chakotay was at work, cataloguing artefacts. The colleague disliked the maquis and was angry at the Borg as they had assimilated one of his family members. He had started the verbal argument, which turned physical. However, it was Chakotay who had been officially and very openly reprimanded for the fight. Though he had tried to keep the incident from Seven, word of it had spread and made its way to her ears before the week was out. From then on, she had felt not just hurt at the comments and glares but guilt and fear for Chakotay.

She worried that him being an ex maquis and his alliance with her would work against him forever, that it would cause him more grief and regret as the years went on. At least, that had been her argument.

A quiet voice in the back of Chakotay's mind whispered another reason for her dismissal of him. She was intelligent, young and beautiful. How could he think he had anything to offer her that any number of other men couldn't?

In the end, Chakotay returned to the couch and put the picture next to the items he intended to keep out until he found proper accommodations. He had just opened the third box when the standard console began to beep from the corner.

He turned it on, expecting to see B'Elanna or Tom, his most frequent callers. Instead, he got a pleasant surprise.

"Kathryn!" Chakotay exclaimed, at once glad to see his long-time friend.

"Hello, Chakotay." She looked around him, noting the clutter. She smirked. "I see you've been decorating."

He smiled in good humour. "Funny, Kathryn, very funny. At least I plan to clean it up, unlike someone who just likes to leave their coffee cups lying around, waiting for people to find them."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Please, that was one time and I swear I didn't expect you to sit on it."

Chakotay laughed. "So, to what do I owe this great pleasure, Admiral?"

She smiled. "Oh, don't call me that. It still sounds too strange."

"You'll get used to it," he said, knowing full well she was already enjoying the sound of it.

"I suppose," she said cheerfully, but Chakotay could see her already switching to command mode. "I have some news from Starfleet. Voyager is almost finished being refitted and once she is, you have an assignment."

"Kathryn, I'm not a member of Starfleet. I'm a civilian now."

"I know, but these are special circumstances."

"Kathryn -- "

"Please, Chakotay. I trust you more than anyone else." She looked around him as though expecting to see someone. "Is Seven with you?"

Surprised by the assumption, Chakotay shook his head and tried not to let the pain show. "No," he sighed. "We're no longer together."

"Oh." This put a twist in her plans. Making a split decision, Janeway chose not to tell Chakotay that Seven of Nine might be assigned to this mission as well. If it had been messy and Seven was feeling particularly stubborn, she could always refuse to go. He still could. Neither of them were technically Starfleet officers and it wouldn't accomplish anything to get Chakotay prematurely upset.

Chakotay narrowed his eyes at the thoughtful expression now adorning the admiral's face.

In a moment, Janeway shook her head, dismissing her errant thoughts and concentrated once again on the task at hand. "In any case, I'm calling to give you the details of your next assignment."

"Kathryn, really, I'm not interested in working for Starfleet. I'm doing what I love."

"The Enterprise disappeared."

"What?"

"No one knows what happened to it." She leaned forward, the severity of the situation pressuring her. "Please, we received a transmission from the Enterprise. It was badly degraded and it's probably just a coincidence, but there was some hint of infiltration. Like I said, it's probably coincidence, but the other admirals are nervous and they don't want to rule anything out. Chakotay, I trust your judgment and I trust you. We need someone we can count on. We need you to lead Voyager into the Beta quadrant and find out what happened to them. Please, for me."

Her expression begged him for help. He sighed, resigning himself to this one last mission under the name of Starfleet. "Should I be prepared for the worst?"

"Probably. In a nutshell, the Enterprise disappeared from the Beta Quadrant a few days ago. According to long-range sensors, there is no wreckage, but there is only so much we can see with the sensors. Some theta radiation has been blocking our readings. It's as though they simply disappeared. We received a distress signal, but it's all just a jumbled mess."

"Any sign of Borg?"

"Not a single nanoprobe." Janeway drew a deep breath. "Chakotay, Pathfinder scoured the area, but couldn't find any sign that the Enterprise had been there. We're hoping the new shields and weapons being installed on Voyager will help, as will the armor plating. The Enterprise was supposed to be fitted with the new armor once it returned." She smiled sadly. "The USS Regulus will be going with you. Captain Silas has had a good deal of experience in the Beta Quadrant. He also happens to only a few hours from where the Enterprise disappeared. They're keeping an eye on the region until you're ready to go in. You and the rest of your crew will take Voyager from Deep Space Nine and meet them." In her Starfleet office, Janeway began tapping controls. "I'm transmitting all the information we have so far. All the details haven't been finalized, but it's a start."

"Do we have a crew list?"

"Not yet, but we're working on it."

-----------

In jeans and a blouse, bent over the back of a bench in the entrance to her aunt's house, Seven of Nine didn't look much like a new member of a Starfleet think tank or much like a Borg, despite being both. Irritated when her uncomfortable position yielded no results, she sat back on the bench. The sound of a paper bag being rustled in the kitchen reminded Seven of who else might know where her left boot had gotten to. "Aunt Irene, have you seen my…" Seven trailed off.

Her aunt's border collie came down the stairs with something black in his mouth.

"Your what?" called Irene from the kitchen.

"…boot. Never mind," said Seven.

She pulled her errant shoe out of the dog's mouth. There were teeth marks now marring the smooth black of the boot, but the dog ran off before Seven could voice her displeasure.

"Robert's just upset that you're leaving so soon," said Irene, as she came into the entranceway. "A week isn't enough time for a proper visit."

To back up her claim, the black and white dog followed Irene back to the front door and came to sit beside Seven, resting his head on her knee. His tail wagged as Seven scratched behind his ears.

Irene watched the exchange silently, already missing her brother's only child, and when she thought she might cry, she held a bag out to her niece. "It's some lunch for your trip," she said with a crack in her voice when Seven raised an eyebrow. "You're too thin, Annika. Probably from too much replicated food."

Confused, Seven looked down at herself. "The Doctor always told me I was in perfect health. I don't understand why he would neglect to tell me if I was underweight."

Irene smiled and simply put the bag in Seven's hand. "Never mind, sweetie."