A/n: Thank you so much to cojack for posting the tenth and final chapter of 'Les Exiles', it was amazing but I'm still sad it's over! )': Also thank you to The Cheshire Cheese for both providing this story's cover image (links on my profile page) and for posting another brilliant new Voyager story, 'Sleepwalking'. Also, a huge thank you to gluegirl56 for her help with the Swedish in this chapter, I'm so lucky to have such lovely Swedish speaking readers! :) I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.

Chakotay's eyes fretfully blinked back sleep as his searching hand gripped still warm but empty sheets. He found her almost immediately, and was restful enough to take a few extra seconds to appreciate his wife's statuesque form, standing with her back to him in front of the bedroom mirror by the wardrobes. It didn't take him much longer however, to see that there was something amiss. Her face, drawn and pale as was the understandable norm right now, at that moment was etched with an apprehensive frown. The fact that this morning she'd reverted to the helmet like up-do of old, rather than the softer, but of course still practical, hairstyles of recent years, only emphasised the strain around her eyes. He sat up in bed, seeing her sigh slightly as she caught his gaze in the mirror's reflection. "Why are you wearing your uniform today? I thought you were going to do a full day of classes with Naomi today, if the Doctor's scan is alright, rather than do any duty shifts?" Seven didn't even normally wear her uniform, in the blue colours of the Science Division, on a day to day basis. She'd requested one over two years ago now, to Kathryn's delight, but generally only wore it on away missions and the most formal of ship occasions, though, he remembered with a grin, she'd switched it with a white cocktail dress for their wedding. He suspected her reluctance to 'assimilate' the uniform completely was rooted in the same reason she'd refused the field commission the Captain had offered along with the uniform, she believed she was still too strongly associated with the Borg to be accepted outside of Voyager as an officer. Both himself and Kathryn had strenuously tried to fight her on that, after all Icheb was newly a full Ensign, but she wouldn't be moved. Perhaps she'd been proven right in the fact that the Captain had never mentioned the idea of Seven's promotion in her despatches to Starfleet, that she'd been so willing to bestow rank independently probably showed that Starfleet would've denied her dearest wish had she asked and they all knew it.

"I go to visit Tuvok on Mondays and Thursdays according to the Doctor's new schedule." Seven answered stiffly, "The Captain believes the sight of Starfleet uniforms reassures him." Not that, from the look of her reflection or the unyielding fabric, it seemed likely her uniform would fit. Only the vest had gone on with any ease, she still couldn't button the trousers after several attempts and she was beginning to doubt the jacket would meet in the middle when she tried that. Though the energy problems of the past few weeks had been resolved, she was still reluctant to submit to reality and replicate a maternity version of the uniform, which by all accounts was as comfortable as it was flattering.

"Seven…" Chakotay's voice took on the uneasy, regretful tone she'd known it would as he climbed hastily out of bed and approached her, "…nothing really reassures Tuvok anymore, you know that."

"Yes." Seven confirmed tightly, looking at him through lowered eyes, "The Captain says he can't even mediate anymore." She lifted her head again in one strong, dignified movement as she met his gaze, "But that does not mean I should not visit him any longer."

"No, no it doesn't." Chakotay sincerely conceded, "But it also doesn't mean that it's good for you to visit him, not right now anyway." He sighed heavily as he gently grasped her shoulders, the concern in his eyes so genuine that she couldn't ignore it. "You were so upset last week, when he thought you were still a drone…" He touched her cheek as she swallowed hard, "You can't be stressed like that sweetheart…"

Seven bit her lip as she took his hand and tenderly laid it over her bare abdomen. "I know." She murmured, "But things are more certain now…" That morning marked the beginning of her twelfth week of pregnancy, "…and I also know that Tuvok should not be condemned to be alone just because he is ill." Her eyes were determined, even as they revealed pain, "When I last saw him, after the incident when he believed me to be a drone, he was perfectly lucid with me. It was almost…"

"Almost like old times." Chakotay finished thickly, "That's one of the most cruel things about it, that he can still see what's happening to him at times."

"Those times are becoming less frequent and shorter in duration." Seven told him frankly, though her voice cracked, "That is why we must spend time with him now." She cupped his chin in her hands as his eyes became downcast, even shame-filled. "I'm not asking you to come with me." She assured him gently. One of the things she'd realised about Chakotay quickly, when they'd argued about the memory manipulation of the alien 'war memorial' and even further back, after his conscription by the Vori, was that he had a lifelong fear of mental illness that his many experiences on Voyager had rendered deep-seated. Witnessing Tuvok's deterioration was traumatic as well as depressing for him. However, like the rest of the senior officers, he visited his failing crewmate at least once a week. Only Seven knew that the two men spent each visit in a silence that had been mutually agreed upon, at least until recently as Tuvok's memory loss and confusion became entrenched.

Chakotay saw the understanding in her eyes and shuddered involuntarily, feeling like a coward. Still, his genuine anxiety overcame that discomfort, "He attacked the Captain last week…"

"He shook her by the shoulders." Seven corrected as she made one last effort to don her uniform, "I believe he was recalling the incident with the Sikarians, a stressful point in their relationship." She sighed again as Chakotay nodded in confirmation, Tuvok's 'betrayal' had come long before she'd joined the crew. "I will not take any risks…" She assured him firmly, "…even with this uniform." She grimaced wryly as he chuckled, "Could you find my navy dress in the wardrobe?" she asked as she finally admitted defeat and began to drag herself out of the uncooperative, stubbornly tight clothing.

Chakotay obligingly rifled through her minimal selection of outfits and pulled out the sleek navy shift dress, barely any less formal than the uniform but one of her favourites. "This one?" he questioned, not surprised when she snatched the hanger out of his hands and began stepping into the dress at once. "Don't worry, you're not late, I know Tuvok's schedule too."

Seven smiled at him warmly for this unostentatious sign of support, feeling cause for further relief as the dress zipped up cleanly. A gasp left her lips however, as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The dress may have gone on, but it was stretched taut around her waist and chest. She hadn't thought of herself as showing yet, but this dress certainly played up the changes in her figure. "I can't…" She started uncertainly, tugging at the zip.

"You're beautiful." Chakotay cut her off resolutely, stopping any further argument with a soft but prolonged kiss, smiling at her contentedly as she blushed. "Why shouldn't you show yourself off?"

Seven smirked ruefully, "Well, since your child is starting to show itself too, I hope you didn't marry me because you found my biosuits attractive." She remarked dryly as she inspected her new bump, "It is unlikely I'll ever be able to wear them as in former times ever again."

Chakotay knew there wasn't a trace of real regret in her deadpan tone; she'd recycled all of her biosuits as soon as he'd assured her the Doctor wouldn't be offended for long by her rejection of his fashions. "I didn't find the biosuits attractive, I found you attractive in the biosuits, there's a big difference there!" He teased, laughing freely when she readily nodded in relief.

She hadn't bothered ringing the bell, knew he would ignore it, but the force of her respect for Tuvok still pushed a polite address from her lips, "May I come in Commander?"

The room was dark, lit only by a wax candle that wouldn't have looked out of place in Maestro Da Vinci's holographic workshop. Of course, that didn't impede Seven's vision, but it did give her a warning, alerting her to his current precarious state of minds as a lighthouse illuminates dangers through a stormy sea. Where the lighting was almost non-existent, scent dominated the room territorially. Not only from the thin wisps of smoke rising from the candle, but the heady pungency of Vulcan incense mixed with the perfume of the horticultural collection of blooms that had expanded throughout his quarters as Tuvok's mind shrank away. Seven knew that the tears of sensory irritation prickling her human eye would soon be augmented by grief, but she stood ready and stoic.

In contrast, Tuvok heaved a huge, soothing breath of the dry, heated air around him, the environmental controls of these quarters had been altered to simulate Vulcan in the hope it would settle his mind. As yet however, he was too preoccupied with typing something frantically into a PADD to fully register his visitor. It was only when the PADD gave a weak bleep to plead that it was filled to its data capacity, and he then shifted to gather up handfuls of paper and a single, worn down pencil that he finally caught her eye. He squinted at her curiously, his silvery brows prominent in the candlelight. "My rank is that of a…Lieutenant." He informed her slowly.

Seven couldn't quite bring herself to nod, but didn't correct him either. Such an effort would be stressful as well as pointless. Instead she glanced down at the desperate scrawls he'd already resumed hunching over along with his ignorance of her presence. "I will provide you with a new pencil." She stated softly, moving to the small table set up by the door on which a tricorder permanently rested beside a freshly replicated packet of the crude granite pencils he loved; the Captain had obviously been here before her this morning. She carefully drew one out, the writing implement digging into the skin of her damp palm as she cautiously approached. "Here, I hope this will suffice for now."

Tuvok daintily took the pencil from her, examining it intently before his head dipped in a firm nod. "Yes, this will logically suffice." He answered, as he did finally looking right into her face. A flicker of recognition, as faint as the glow the candle cast over his prematurely aged face but still visible, lit his hooded eyes. "Seven of Nine."

Seven exhaled heavily in relief, his voice was wary but not hostile, he even settled down in his chair with an air of satisfaction at being able to place her. "Correct." She confirmed, taking this measure of acceptance as permission to lower herself into the chair across from him, divided only by the weary, overladen coffee table. "May I examine what you are working on?"

"Of course, you are tactically astute." Tuvok replied in a tone that was unusually warm for a Vulcan. He promptly shoved most of the PADDs and fragments of paper towards her, even as he tore off another sheet and starting drawing something new.

"Thank you." Seven responded faintly, her heart sinking as she began to look through that morning's 'work'. Some of it was indecipherable of course, varying from Stardates strung together to childish depictions of ships, but what was more affecting was that a great deal of it made some sense. Attempts at written log entries had been made, a great deal of it was recognisable as security reports, though the fog of memory and confusion diluted context to the extent that she couldn't tell which incidents he'd been recalling when he'd been compelled to compose them. Their being committed to PADD or paper didn't show anything, instances of confusion and relative lucidity were evenly spread across both mediums.

Something drew Tuvok's attention away from his drawing again, and his eye caught the swell in Seven's stomach her seated position as well as her dress made obvious. He blinked, mouth clenching as if he were struggling to reach out and grasp the thoughts flitting through his brain. "You are expecting a child. You were able to tolerate your mate's Pon Farr Asil…"

Seven tried to smile at him, even as a lump rose in her throat. It wasn't the first time Tuvok had mistaken her for his daughter, it was one of his more benign, flattering delusions, but now the poignancy of it struck her. He'd most likely never see the real Asil again, and if Voyager did reach the Alpha Quadrant in any of their lifetimes he'd be too far gone to have any chance of recognising her or any of his family. Still, there was some sense in the mistake; the Captain must've read to him the most recent letter from T'Pel, which had reported that Asil had just gotten married. "I am expecting a child." She confirmed gently, "Chakotay and I are very happy."

Tuvok blinked again, recognition flaring in his gaze once more. "Yes." He paused thoughtfully, "I am glad Seska did not devalue the logic of family for him, and that your parents did not have the same devaluing effect on you Seven."

Seven's smile was a real one this time, her heart jumping at this glimpse of the Tuvok she'd known. "I appreciate you saying so Mr Tuvok, more than you are likely to realise." She told him thickly, having to blink hard herself as tears did indeed threaten.

Tuvok's mind had clouded back over almost as soon as the clarity had spontaneously appeared. "I realise now Asil…I was treating Kes more like you. That was illogical. That was unwise."

Seven quickly adapted to the change of subject. She could cope better with the variance in his thoughts than some of the others; after all she still found it difficult to follow the flow of some normal conversation and thus had become adept at hiding that confusion by necessity. "I was not present for the vast majority of Kes' time on board…" She admitted, "But from what I do know she was very fond of you and you have nothing to be ashamed of in your patronage of her." Even in that she was overestimating her knowledge of the Ocampan woman. Kes had always been on the peripheral of Chakotay's circle of friends, they hadn't had much in common apparently, so she rarely heard much about her from him. Not that she would've liked it any other way, she'd heard too many snide comments from the crew in her early months aboard that she was merely Janeway's new 'pet', a less acceptable replacement for Kes, to have really been able to take much more praise of her with good grace. However, she knew that she owed the other woman a debt on some level, more throwing Voyager clear of Borg Space than for making sure she survived the removal of her implants. If Voyager had remained in Borg Space, whether or not she was disconnected from the Collective, Seven was painfully aware of having no doubt in her mind that she would've led the Hive right to the people who were trying to help her.

"But it was illogical!" Tuvok argued stubbornly, "If I had not indulged in vanity to believe that my teaching could control the powers so dangerous that her ancestors voluntarily cast them aside then Voyager would not be in danger now! Suspiria will control her…"

Seven leaned across, avoiding the candle and grasped his hands. "Voyager is not in danger right now Tuvok. Suspiria is long behind us, and I believe that Kes has returned to her people to educate them as you taught her. There is no need for anxiety." She sighed sorrowfully, hearing the falsehood in her last words, Tuvok was lost in his own mind, he'd be anxious for the rest of his life.

"But…But I must be vigilant…" Tuvok choked out despondently, "That is my role here, my duty…"

Seven took a deep breath as she repeated the words she'd heard the Captain tearfully croon to him over and over, "You've done your duty Tuvok."

Tuvok wrenched himself up onto his feet; the movement was so sudden and powerful that the candle instantly flickered out. "I can't do my duty because I'm insane!"

Seven peered at him sadly through the dark, "I am not the best judge of that, since I have been declared insane many times and by some people no doubt will always be considered so. You are ill, just as I was during those periods."

Tuvok gazed back at her thoughtfully, "I have performed mind-melds with you to ease your illness…" Absently, he began to smooth out the scrap of paper he'd been drawing on that had been crushed into a ball during his rage. He watched, waiting for her weak nod before fervently pressing the crumpled paper into her hands. "Relight the candle Annika, and you'll see what I saw."

Seven flinched despite herself; he'd never called her by her given name before. "As you wish." She agreed shakily, reaching over the table to find the box of matches he had lying out. Her hands were trembling so much now that she struggled to strike one, and gave a start when it flared. Under Tuvok's expectant gaze, she held it to the candle, gasping when the fresh light revealed what he'd been drawing. A raven, daunting in full flight, a near perfect depiction of a Borg Cube…and a child's face, the face that had once been her own. She was convulsed with the urge to tear it to shreds, but controlled it as she realised that need said more than the picture ever could. "Yes, this is probably most accurate of what you would've seen in my mind at that time." She eventually managed to murmur.

Tuvok regarded her warily, "You won't go back to the Collective now, will you?"

"No, never!" Seven spat out, her human hand unconsciously touching her abdomen as she held her Borg arm away from her body, almost as if she feared she could re-assimilate herself. "But…" She began, steadying herself, "I will be back to see you again, on Thursday, but I must go for now…"

"I will not see you for a long time." Tuvok countered sorrowfully, unexpectedly reaching out and squeezing her Borg hand, "Your condition will logically impede you."

"I do not intend to allow it to impede me." Seven assured him, bravely considering how conflicted she now felt, Chakotay had been right. "I will see you on Thursday." This time, she didn't wait for his reply, and hurriedly abandoned the quarters, almost back to her own before she realised she was still holding the drawing.

Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 58520.1: The operation is over. T'Nara and I integrated the replacement cortical array into Seven of Nine's cybernetic systems. Whether we were as wholly successful as we all would wish we'll only know if and when she regains consciousness, but I'm hopeful enough to start a full debriefing.

"From what we can see, her cybernetic systems began recovering as soon as the new cortical array was activated, and her human systems have been piggy-backing that effect so far." The Doctor explained, trying not to sound too hopeful, but his relief shone through.

"What about her brain?" Chakotay demanded hoarsely, his voice barely louder than the beeping monitors that still surrounded his wife, but rendered powerful by emotion.

T'Nara spoke up in her level voice that absorbed none of the emotion that the others could not contain, seeing the Doctor hesitate. "Her brain waves have entered a different category, she can no longer be considered comatose, the new cortical array has taken over the higher brain functions just as it was designed to."

"And there's no damage to her human brain?" The Captain whispered, holding her hand up in a silent insistence that she continue as the Doctor started to open his mouth, "I know you've explained before that her body entered this deep coma to protect her brain, but can we be sure that it has?"

"No." The Doctor answered shortly, for once not seeing the benefit in being effusive. His shoulders were slumped under the weight of knowing all the possible outcomes. "But I am hopeful…" He paused, looking at Chakotay with resigned, hollow eyes, "If I didn't truly believe she could recover all of her faculties in time I would've let her pass on when Anni was born rather than put her through that unprecedented operation."

"We have performed similar operations on former child drones." T'Nara informed them, "But those replacements were undertaken as soon as the symptoms revealed themselves. Like them, some of her less vital implants will have deteriorated, but I will replace those also. We already know that her optical implant has failed, she'll be blind in that eye until she can tolerate another surgery. I am as yet uncertain if she will need treatment beyond physical therapy to regain full use of her limbs. For the moment, we will focus on neurological tests."

Janeway looked over at Chakotay, but saw that he'd moved away from where their small group had gathered around his daughter's incubator to resume his vigil next to Seven. His eyes lightly closed, his ravaged body shaking. She wondered if he was praying, or if he'd just heard enough about obstacles to getting her back or letting her go. That made her reluctant to ask her next question, "Don't you have to bring her round to perform those tests?"

"For the most part yes, of course." The Doctor replied cautiously, "But I don't want to risk giving her stimulants, not yet. In reality, the biggest neurological test is whether she can regain consciousness spontaneously."

"She will." Chakotay murmured determinedly, as he clutched her hand, willing to convince himself that it felt warmer, stronger. "Seven has had to fight to live more than the rest of us put together, she wouldn't stop now."

"Regeneration cycle is incomplete."

Seven gave a confused start. She'd made sure that her portable regeneration unit did not mimic her old alcove in saying that, hadn't she? Opening her eyes was a strain, and revealed nothing. Blackness surrounded her on all sides, her optical implant refusing to adapt to the complete absence of light. She was blind. She tried to move, lift her hand to inspect the malfunctioning eyepiece, but it was futile. There was no sensation, only the sound of her own hoarse, heaving breaths gave her an awareness of her body. She felt…disconnected. Not in the way she'd once been familiar with, now her emotions roared inside her, right now she'd cling even to fear to know she was alive.

A light suddenly flared in front of her, and her eyes burned back to life. It glowed with that resonating, sickly green that had bleached her life as a drone, but in the next instant it narrowed into a thin laser beam that stretched out to piece her body but did nothing to penetrate the oppressive darkness. The laser sight of an optical implant. A drone. Approaching her, assessing her for assimilation. "NO!" Seven's voice exploded from her, shrinking down to a whisper as the figure kept coming undaunted, "I will not be assimilated…I am an individual now…"

"Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One." A single voice stated as the drone stopped in its tracks. Seven couldn't see what it was walking on, it seemed to be floating on the darkness, but paradoxically she could sense the drone cocking its head at her questioningly, "An individual."

Seven held herself taut, power over her muscles returning as she steeled her will. "Yes." She declared through gritted teeth, "I will never return to the Collective."

"You do not wish to return to your Collective Annika?" The voice was soft, wrung out with bemusement…and grief.

"No…" Seven started to choke out, her heart hammering as the voice struck a chord within her, or a raw nerve. "Annika? Where am I? What is happening?" In silent answer, the darkness folded back, just enough to reveal that a narrow metal bridge, designed to cross the widest and most open areas of Borg vessel, connected the foot of her alcove to some point far off into the darkness. She'd hardly taken that in however, before the drone in front of her captured her gaze. She'd braced herself for an audience with the Queen, but who she saw made nausea collide with sobs. "Mama?" She wrenched her head away from that distorted face, her body convulsing with grief and rage. "No, no, no, I don't want to see you like this…" She shuddered violently, "I thought you were the Queen, oh…" She started to struggle against the restraint of the alcove, screaming through sobs now, "No! Go away!"

The drone that had once been Erin Hansen gazed at her ruefully, "We cannot let you go, not yet."

"Why not?!" Seven shrieked down at her, enraged now. "Just let me go!" she cried out brokenly, "Why can't you just let me go?"

"Listen to the voices Seven." A new voice commanded, "Listen to the voices and you'll know they can't let you go."

Seven shrank back in denial, "I don't hear the Collective's voice anymore, only yours!" She hissed at the second figure, gliding across the bridge in shadow.

"Maybe so." The woman's voice murmured regretfully as she moved to stand stoically by Erin's side, "But that would be a great loss."

"How dare…" Seven began, then halted as she stared at the woman. Like Erin, she carried a source of light, a candle, exactly like the kind Chakotay used to pray as he prepared for a vision quest. The candle's warm glow only cast up enough light to illuminate the woman's face, the rest of her body melted into the darkness. She'd been privileged enough to see her face in pictures, but had of course never seen the living woman. She was Chakotay's mother. She was shocked enough to step out from the alcove onto the bridge, it creaked loudly under her weight, oblivion waiting below it and at either side, and she tensed in fear even as she continued to gaze into the impossible face. "Aylen Kotay?" she whispered, shivering at the woman nodded with a small smile and reaching out to grasp at her. "Am I dead?" Aylen shifted back from her touch and the question, "Is that why I'm here, why you're here?" Seven finally looked over at her mother again, "And Mama, I hadn't heard your voice in the Hive Mind for years, you're gone too…" She swallowed as she took in the darkness around her with a new perspective. Was she in some sort of purgatory? These two women wouldn't be in hell and this place certainly wasn't what she'd describe as the 'happy hunting grounds' Chakotay half joked about or the heaven of her own ancient Christian heritage. "What am I to do?" she asked quietly, "Help me."

"Just hear the voices Seven." Aylen instructed gently, "They'll guide you."

"What voices?" Seven pleaded despairingly, cringing as suddenly the white noise of old filled her mind, she had to clutch as her head to cling to a sense of herself. "No I can't be part of that again, I won't go back to the Collective…" She leaned heavily against the bridge, ready to throw herself over it to escape the voices.

"That is not the Borg Collective you are hearing Seven of Nine." Erin advised her forcefully.

"I don't understand…" Seven forced out, "What else could it be?" She tried to focus on one voice, but it was agony, and the faint but unmistakable cry of a baby made her recoil in horror. "My baby, my baby can't be here…" She wept, "Not with the Collective…"

"Don't worry." Aylen said succinctly, exchanging a relieved smile with the drone Erin, "Little Annika is no longer here." She shook her head, chuckling with pride, "Ixchel has certainly watched over her…"

Seven was beyond comprehension, "It seems like I, Annika, Seven of Nine, Seven, will always be here!" she shouted at them in frustration, "With the Collective!"

"You have more than one Collective Annika." Erin reminded her gently, her remaining human eye unblinking and certain.

Janeway looked up from Seven's remote, unconscious face as she heard Chakotay return behind her, carefully cradling his daughter who was all blankets in her father's large arms. "How did she cope with being out of Sickbay today? I'm sorry I couldn't help more, I had so much tactical data to go over with General Korok…"

"It's fine Kathryn." Chakotay replied dismissively, "The more we know about the status of the Borg, the easier we can avoid them." His throat tightened and Janeway caught his involuntary glance down at the baby, checking her as if just mentioning the Borg would endanger the child. He then lowered himself carefully down into the other chair at Seven's bedside, settling the baby into the crook of one arm so he could resume holding Seven's hand. His thumb rubbed over the inside of her palm for a few seconds before he recalled the question about the baby, "She was fine with just the warming cot, since she doesn't need any breathing support now. Thanks for letting us use your Ready Room…I couldn't face my quarters."

"Feel free any time." She offered at once. There had been no question about Anni being unable to stay in Sickbay during her mother's operation, thankfully she no longer needed the full incubator and had been able to be transferred to a movable cot still designed to help her maintain her temperature. "But the problem with the Ready Room is I'm sure you got plenty of visitors."

"A few." Chakotay admitted, "But B'Elanna was there with me to keep them at bay, Icheb too."

The Captain smiled wanly, "I can't think of two better guards for her." She stood up from the biobed to stretch her stiff muscles and moved to stand over Chakotay's shoulder to take a peek at the baby. "The Doctor told me she's finally starting to gain weight…" She murmured softly as she brushed a finger against the tiny, feather soft cheek with a sigh, "…we had a scary couple of days there."

Chakotay nodded wordlessly. The baby, he still resisted calling her Annika, or any version of it, but after what he'd seen of the crew today the name or at least the 'Anni' nickname was bound to stick unless Seven objected strenuously enough to put a stop to it, hadn't maintained her birth weight, let alone gained in her first couple of days of life. He didn't think he'd ever be able to erase from his mind the trauma of watching her have to endure a spinal tap to check for interfering nanoprobes or infection that a tricorder might not pick up. Thankfully the test had been negative, and she seemed to be turning a corner, putting up a fight worthy of her namesake. "The Doctor said he'll take the feeding tube out tomorrow and she can be bottle fed."

"Maybe Seven will wake up in good enough time to feed her herself." Janeway suggested encouragingly before sighing sadly, "God knows they'll need to bond, her whole pregnancy's passed her by."

Chakotay swallowed hard, their daughter's whole life might pass Seven by if she didn't wake. "Would you mind taking her back to her cot Kathryn?" he asked thickly.

"Of course." She agreed quickly, touched. "Come here little one." She gathered Anni into her arms with more perseverance than practice and headed off to the incubator with the Doctor anxiously in tow.

Chakotay waited until everyone in Sickbay, Kathryn, the Doctor, T'Nara, Tom, were all preoccupied with the baby before letting himself sink forward onto the biobed, his forehead resting on Seven's hand he still held. "It has to be over Seven, wake up." He demanded in a whisper, "I…we can't live like this anymore…" He squeezed her hand until he felt his nails dig into her flesh, "I won't forgive you if you don't even try, do you hear me?" he choked out in impotent, broken anger, as if issuing an order would work where heartfelt pleading wouldn't.

At the first twitch he thought he was imagining it, but at the second, more frantic, clawing of her hand, accompanied by a rattling wheeze from the ventilator, he leapt to his feet as if he'd seen a ghost. "Doctor!" he yelled.

"My God…" The Doctor gaped as he caught glimpse of the readings on the monitors, "She's regaining consciousness!" He bounded to the biobed with the others at his heels, "Help me remove the ventilator Mr Paris!" Seven's human hand clawed at the sheet, her entire body straining as she continued to gag against the ventilator. Her artificial eye was as useless as T'Nara had predicted, the lid was barely open, the eye lolling blindly to the side, as her other eye fluttered wildly, tears leaking out of its corner. "Don't fight us Seven, alright?" he instructed breathlessly, but it was still with difficulty that they yanked the tubes out of her convulsing throat.

The burst of gagging coughs was immediate and intense, wracking her so much that additional, primordial panic filled Seven's now wide open good eye as she continued to flail. Tom, leaning over her, could hear her whimpering under the coughing. "You're okay Seven, you're safe, take it easy…"

The words, which should've been soothing even to the barely conscious woman Seven was, seemed to sail over her head, as her breathing eased she struggled more. "The translator built into her new cortical array may not be fully functional yet!" T'Nara explained over the din, "Speak to her in her native tongue and you have a better chance of getting through to her!"

The Doctor, glad of the Universal Translator built into his programming, immediately translated Tom's sentiments into Swedish, loudly. "Seven, det är okej, allt kommer bli bra!"

She stopped struggling, proving T'Nara's hypothesis, but she was still far from lucid and comprehending, her gaze lost and terrified as a hoarse cry escaped her injured throat. Chakotay shoved himself round so that she could see him with her good eye, taking her already sweat dampened face in his hands. "Allting kommer att ordna sig." He murmured, relieved that he could remember at least one of the calming phrases Irene Hansen was always soothing her niece with. "We're both okay now honey…"

She stilled as she looked up at him, her lips moving voicelessly for a moment before she swooned in his arms as quickly as she'd woken, slipping abruptly back into unconsciousness.

The Captain, white faced with her hands over her mouth, stared at the scene. "Did she go back into the coma?" she demanded of the Doctor sharply.

"No…" The Doctor seemed on the verge of relieved hysteria, hologram or not. "She just fainted, we just have to wait for her to come back round. She'll have periods of going in and out of consciousness, but she's definitely no longer comatose." He grinned at the tear-stained, overcome, crowd around the biobed, "She's over the biggest hurdle to recovery."

A/n: Please review, this chapter went through several drafts and rewrites over the weekend. Remember to check out 'Les Exiles' and 'Sleepwalking' too. :) For reference, Ixchel is the Mayan mother goddess and 'Aylen' is not the canon name of Chakotay's mother, just the one I give her in my stories.