"Status," Seven barked as she stomped into Sick Bay, Naomi hot on her heels.

The Doctor sighed. The last thing he needed during this precarious time was for Seven to become even more confrontational, yet he feared the situation was already lost. He was distressed when Icheb immediately abandoned him to stand beside Seven.

As one, Seven, Icheb, and Naomi stared at the Doctor, each arching an eyebrow in silent demand. This was all just completely unfair in the his humble opinion.

"He has not yet awoken," Icheb said in his quiet monotone, which was nevertheless oddly musical, "but his infection is resolving itself at a phenomenal rate."

Seven was unsurprised. The drone was, after all, Borg. "His other injuries?"

"Mostly irrelevant," Icheb replied. "Aside from the infection, he is in good health, though still unconscious."

"I don't know why," the Doctor said before Seven could posit her next logical question. "There is no physiological reason for his continued slumber. He could very well simply be exhausted from his adventure." His mouth tightened. "I cannot perform further scans as he has erected a multi-spacial transphasic forcefield around himself. I am now unable to approach him at all."

Seven gave a slow blink, her confusion obvious. "Impossible. Drones do not have that capability."

Naomi tugged on her arm. "He isn't a drone, Seven, anymore than you or Icheb."

Seven said nothing but Icheb gave Naomi a shy smile.

"Regardless," Seven continued, "this kind of technology is unknown to the Borg."

"Perhaps that is why the Collective so desired him," the Doctor hypothesized.

"Clarify," Seven commanded, eyes narrowed.

He brushed off her tone. "The senior staff has been speculating as to what it is about your brother than made him so valuable to the Collective. Why did they try so hard to keep him? Why the multiple reassimilations?"

Seven's eyes widened. "There is evidence of this?"

"He was assimilated many times, Seven," the Doctor said quietly, "and while the numerous attempts all eventually failed, each assimilation served only to further tax his systems. His exoplating was more extensive than that of any Borg I have ever encountered, almost as though they were trying to make him completely cybernetic. I would argue that his physical strength conceivably surpasses that of yourself and Icheb combined."

Her lips thinned. "Why did the assimilations fail? What is about this drone that caused such results?"

They were so busy staring at each other in defiance that they failed to notice Tuvok entering the room.

"I honestly have no idea," said the Doctor, almost at the point of exasperation.

"Perhaps I can offer an hypothesis," Tuvok said.

"Commander," Seven said, inclining her head.

Tuvok nodded in reply. "As you may or not be aware, after the Doctor finished removing the unnecessary implants, he asked the ship's counselor for an assessment."

"I was not aware," Seven countered, "but I fail to see what information Counselor Harris could provide."

She didn't believe in psychology. It wasn't a real science but more a collection of hypotheses and theories derived from little more than guesswork and self-congratulatory thinking. As far as she was concerned, the position of counselor was unnecessary. The Doctor was sufficient to provide therapeutic services in addition to healing physical damage.

Naomi offered an enraptured sigh at the name which Seven found noxious. Granted, Xander Harris was a fine physical specimen, but she thought his humor crude and infantile, much along the lines of Lieutenant Paris. He seesawed between incompetence and profound insight with such frequency that it left many aboard dizzy. After his arrival on Voyager, he had tried for several months to initiate sessions with her, but at last gave up when she forcefully explained to him that his assistance was undesired.

His only saving graces were his deference to the captain and his sincere fondness for Naomi Wildman; that, and his genuine love and devotion to his ward and half-brother Sam Evans. If nothing else, Counselor Harris was a stalwart friend and guardian. She also found it somewhat impressive that though he had reluctantly accepted the post of Counselor, he had steadfastly declined the rank of Lieutenant Commander which went with it, arguing that he had no desire for a commission he had not earned.

Of course, this left him somewhat free from operating within Starfleet parameters, which might very well have been diabolical on his part. The same was often said about Seven herself; many wondered why she hadn't pursued a commission of her own given that she was perhaps the most knowledgeable person in the entire Federation.

It was a comparison she did not favor.

Incredibly, the crewmember to whom Counselor Harris was closest was Lieutenant Torres. He couldn't put to words why this was the case, only that he was drawn to strong and fiercely independent women. Seven found it frankly odd the changes he had brought about in Torres. Her temper was far less explosive and she was, in general, much more contemplative and deliberate in her interpersonal relationships. She could still be quite volatile but was no longer as impulsive and intractable.

"The Counselor has stated, and I concur, that Kurt Hansen is highly telepathic," Tuvok said, "much more so than any other crewmember aboard Voyager, including me and the Counselor himself."

Seven stared. Not only did this information fly in the face of everything she knew about the Borg and the process of assimilation, the fact that it was theorized by Xander Harris made it that much more spurious.

She didn't trust him.

Not only had he refused to explain how he had come to be in the Delta Quadrant, but he refused to discuss his life prior to Voyager at all. Maddeningly, Janeway had never pressed him. This led Seven to conclude that she either had the answers or at least strong suspicions. Had Harris told the Captain of his origins, he could not have picked a better confidante; the woman would take secrets to her grave. It was due only to the Captain's assurance that Seven herself did not launch a full investigation into the mysterious man.

Still, his abilities could not be discounted and had proven themselves invaluable on multiple occasions. Harris was a strong telepath, certainly the most powerful of Voyager's inhabitants, and he had used his abilities to discern the truthfulness and motives of many of the alien species they encountered on their return to the Alpha Quadrant.

Seven was admittedly uneasy with this ability. After being free from the Hive Mind these past few years, the idea of someone so easily gaining access to her private thoughts was unsettling and even somewhat terrifying. At least Harris had never violated her privacy in this manner, at least as far as she was aware.

"I don't understand," said a confused Icheb. "Telepathic species that are assimilated do not retain that ability." He looked at Tuvok and then to Seven. "Certainly the multiple assimilations would have removed it entirely?"

Seven gave a tight nod. She knew of no drones that were telepathic. The primary goal of assimilation was to restructure the drone's synaptic pathways and purge them of any remnants particular to their individuality and original species. That this ... person ... remained telepathic, that his power had only grown over the course of his exposure to the Borg, was intriguing.

She turned to Tuvok. "Was the Counselor able to make contact with him?"

"No," he replied. "He found that Kurt's mind is completely protected from any telepathy he does not wish to recognize."

"And how does this relate to the forcefield he is able to manifest?" Icheb asked.

Naomi's face screwed up in thought. "You believe his shield is a conscious projection of his telepathy. He wants to protect himself, so he projects his power outward."

Tuvok gave her a surprised and respectful nod. Clearly her lessons with Seven were serving her well. "Indeed."

She looked up at Seven. "It's like the telepathic pitcher plant, remember? It was able to project its power in order to lure prey. Kurt is doing the opposite. He's projecting his power to save himself."

Seven considered her words and thought them reasonable.

"That might be partly true," the Doctor interrupted, "but the forcefield has a definite Borg component. I don't believe he would be able to actualize it in this manner had he not been assimilated."

"Then it should recognize me as Borg," Seven said.

"It did not recognize me," Icheb said.

Naomi smiled at Seven. "Maybe it will recognize you as family."

Seven found that thought rather chilling. Naomi Wildman's belief that Kurt had crossed the quadrant in search of his sister was humbling and bewildering. What if it were true? What if he did know of her? What if their biological relationship had become, for him, a biological imperative? What did he expect from her? What did he want?

Would he find her sufficient?

She forced down her disquiet and hesitantly stepped forward, continuing to do so until she reached his side, albeit somewhat unconsciously. She raised a hand and allowed it to linger in midair for a number of moments. When she moved it down, she felt the shield. It flared to life around him. She watched in fascination as her hand moved through the shield with no resistance, coming to land on his arm, her fingers curling around the flesh into which he had carved his name.

Her heartbeat accelerated as she heard a soft intake of breath. Her eyes traveled slowly up his body, finally reaching his face, and she blinked owlishly as his eyes fluttered open.

"Hello," he whispered.

"Hello," she blankly replied. "I am ... "

"Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One."

"I was," she said carefully. "Now I am simply Seven of Nine. You may address me as Seven." She paused. "Who are you?"

He appeared disappointed by her question, a soft sigh escaping parted lips. "She called me Two of Three, but that was my designation, not my name. I am Kurt Hansen."

"She," Seven repeated.

"Her."

Seven's fingers tightened around his arm.

The Queen.

"There never was a One or Three," he continued, "or, if there were, they were unknown to me. There was never a purpose to my designation."

Seven leaned down, eyes alight with desperate curiosity. "What did she want with you?"

"To know," he said. "To understand. She needed to know how I could do the things I do so that she could stop me, stop those like me."

"Those like you?"

A brief smile flittered across his face. "Those who can bring chaos to order."

Icheb inhaled.

"Seven," Kurt murmured, "you are unexpected."

"How so?"

"I thought once you were free, you would become Annika again, but Annika is gone. You are Seven and you will always be Seven. That's good."

"How is it good?" Seven demanded.

"Annika was coerced into becoming Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine became Seven by choice. You are strong." Another small smile. "You survived. I always knew you would. She lied to me. She always did."

"Who?" Seven asked roughly. "The Queen? What did she want with you? What did she do to you?"

"So much." His voice bordered on broken. "And she enjoyed it. Never believe she is without emotion, that she is incapable of deception. She is a sadist and she revels in it."

Seven was overcome with fury. Her loathing for the Borg had grown exponentially since the Queen had recaptured her last year. She still sometimes found it difficult to believe the Captain had pursued her, had rescued her; had welcomed her back to Voyager, her new Collective.

"She wants you back," Kurt whispered. "She wants Captain Janeway. She will hurt Voyager to accomplish this."

"She will fail," Seven seethed.

"We will stop her."

"We?"

"Whether you are Annika or Seven, you are my sister. I will not let her hurt you. I won't let anybody hurt you."

"You do not know me," Seven said, confused by the strong and heady emotions his words engendered within her.

He had already fallen back asleep.