Seven stared up her alcove. Nothing about it had changed, it still drained 70 kilowatts of power an hour from Voyager's power supply. It still loomed over her, overshadowing her in its lurid green light that reflected nothing in nature. Yet she'd changed irrevocably since the Queen had ejected her from it. Not a physical change, all that had already been endured, as many of her implants had been removed as possible, she was as deaf to the growling hum of this tomb of technology today as she had been ever since that fateful away mission. An emotional shift then. It hurt, she suspected it always would, that the last thing she would ever hear in life would be the Queen's threats. The cruelty of the fact that it had been the Queen, who'd once, and even at that moment, had such control over her life, to tell her that she was expecting wouldn't be forgotten either. But she would also remember that the last thing she'd hear her own voice say was telling the Queen that she wasn't her drone anymore. That was fitting as well as satisfying. And true. The Queen was dead, dying not just at Admiral Janeway's hand but through the efforts of Voyager's crew as a whole. Poetic justice, that a Collective had been dissembled by a family.

She knew better than anyone that the threat from the Borg, while greatly diminished, was far from gone. The individual tragedies of assimilation would continue as the Collective rebuilt their ranks, no less wretched and regrettable for being smaller in scale, but an assault on the Federation, already weakened by the Dominion War, had been averted, for now. If the Borg had perfected anything, it was how to play a long game. She likely wouldn't live to see the conclusion, and she hoped her child's generation also wouldn't have to fight that battle. Whoever had to in the end, her child, her grandchild, she'd provide as many weapons as she could to help them win.

Her hand drifted over her flat abdomen. A pointless gesture, even at full term the child wouldn't be aware of the touch, and certainly not now, nor could it hear her voice the promise, any more than she herself could, but somehow it still mattered, it was relevant to her in that moment.

She turned sharply away from the alcove, only to stare wide-eyed back at her own reflection in the mirror. Where it had come from, full length and reasonably ornate, she had no idea, but it had been dragged into the Cargo Bay in an apparent attempt to make the cavernous space at least a little like a bridal boudoir. It looked incongruous between two storage containers, over which were draped several, equally jarring, brightly coloured dresses. She ran her hand over the nearest concoction, a cerise pink number that had been provided by Tal Celes of all people. If that dress was anything to go by, she wasn't quite the wallflower she was believed to be by others. Her lack of a wedding dress seemed to have been broadcast somehow over the ship, female crewmembers she hardly knew had appeared, some shyly, some effusively, others gruffly, to offer their favourite outfits, created before the replicators had crashed. It didn't seem to matter that there was no way the vast majority of these would fit her, they'd been given anyway, if just for the fabric. She'd struggled to contain the emotions that these small acts of compassion and acceptance had roused in her, especially when those who couldn't sign and who she couldn't lip read still pressed gifts on her wordlessly. She probably shouldn't have tried to control it, that would've been better thanks in her eyes, she just had to hope they understood that, even if communication hadn't been a physical barrier, she still would've found it hard to express herself. Many of them had been Maquis, and that had touched her particularly, Chakotay's crew were protective of him, their approval meant more to her than she'd realised.

Naomi had been as good as her word, acting as a director everyone indulged as Seven's hair and complexion were scrutinised for improvement and embellishment. She was still wearing the, slightly ragged, white dressing gown that had been draped over her uniform while her hair was styled this way and that and the attributes of makeup were debated. Most of the people who'd come to help with the dress had had their say there too. It had been more overwhelming than pleasurable even as she was aware of a bemused gratitude. Multiple people speaking at once, moving in and out of her eye line, had made many of the conversations, even those in languages she could lip-read, or with signs made properly, almost impossible to follow. She was exhausted and her wedding hadn't begun. It had been a shock to the system when they'd all begun to file out of the Cargo Bay abruptly. She'd had to assume that they'd received some hail to their respective posts, but no one enlightened her as to the real cause and she didn't ask, it could've been another bewildering bridal ritual for all she knew, though Samantha Wildman had kindly paused as she ushered Naomi away to assure her that everything was fine.

Now she took the time to absorb their efforts. It would be excessive to say she didn't recognise herself, her features were the same as ever, but… Foundation had been liberally applied to even out apparent errors in her skin tone, coloured eyeshadow had been layered around her eyes to make them 'stand out', mascara had rendered her fair, unremarkable eyelashes jet black. Her lips were even redder than when she and Chakotay would engage in kissing. Those lips were wobbling uncertainly, her blue eyes were suddenly too large for her face.

There had been debate about her hair. It had been settled somewhere behind her that the natural curl in her hair, something she always furiously brushed out in the morning to allow her to pin her hair back smooth and away from her face, should be teased out. Following their efforts her hair lay loose on her shoulders, curls and waves artfully encouraged in appropriate places. However more natural the style would seem compared to her up-do, she actually had more hairpins pricking her scalp than usual and the strands that floated over her eyes regardless were already driving her mad. Well, if this was what was expected on one's wedding day, she would adapt to these changes. No matter that it seemed nothing else about this wedding was usual. She shivered, longing for Chakotay washing over her as she frantically tried to recall his assurances. They'd adapt to Earth together…they had plenty of time to prepare for the baby…

She'd closed her eyes, squeezed them shut as they began to burn, without realising it. When they opened and focused on the mirror, she got a shock when she saw who had joined her in the reflection. "Aunt…Aunt Irene?"

The image stepped closer until just behind her, the lips moving, back to front in the mirror, in one word. Her name. "Annika…" Hands were pressed to her shaking shoulders and she turned into her aunt's embrace without further beckoning. She could feel that they were both crying, had no need to hear it.

Finally she lifted her head up enough, forced herself to focus intently on her aunt's face, even as the raw emotion on her sole relative's face made her own heart ache. Though she'd spoken to Irene through the MIDAS comm. link several times, in the flesh the clash of the aged woman before her and the memory of her was unnerving. From the volatile mix of grief and delighted awe on Irene's face as she looked back at her, the experience was mutual. This woman had last seen her in person at three years of age, a quarter of a century ago. "How?" she managed to say, imaging that the word was slurred, or too loud and trying to exhibit her usual control over her voice. "How did you get here?"

Irene's smiling mouth began to form speech, Seven was relieved that their shared native tongue of Swedish was as easy to lip-read, easier, than English or many of the other languages on Voyager she'd had more exposure to through necessity, the learning curve not nearly as steep. "I was offered a seat on Admiral Paris' personal shuttle. Lovely man, but I think your Captain had more to do with the invitation."

Seven laughed, unexpectedly freely. "I should have known." She murmured. Her 'makeover' team had probably been told Irene was on her way and decided to leave to give them privacy.

"BUT THE SURPRISE WAS STILL GOOD?" Irene asked. Her signing was careful and deliberate, likely newly learned, but Seven could sense the anxiety in the question despite Irene's light smile.

"OF COURSE." Seven answered, signing slowly for her benefit, waiting until her eyes lit with understanding before adding in speech. "You don't need to ask, I am glad you are here."

Irene hesitated, blinking rapidly. "And I'm glad I lived to see you come back home." She saw her niece stiffen slightly, though she doubted from her touched expression that it had to do with the sentiment itself. "How could I not answer a call for a wedding dress from my only niece anyway?"

Seven squinted at her, almost certain she'd read a coherent sentence on her lips but not quite understanding it. "What?"

Irene flashed her a reassuring smile before turning back to walk to the door, picking up something she'd apparently left on the floor on her entrance. It was a large garment bag. She returned to Seven's side and carefully began to unzip it. "I'm so sorry…" Her throat moved up and down in gulps, Seven could clearly imagine her voice as thick with tears. "…it's just my dress, not your mother's. Your parents…they disposed of most of their belongings before they left. I did keep some things for them, for you, but not that. Erin wasn't sentimental that way, she was convinced you'd have a chance to pick your own…"

"I am not sentimental either." Seven replied, but then amended as her eyes began to blur, "Not usually."

Irene squeezed her hand in understanding, trying to laugh. "I'm not sure why I kept mine, I never even offered it to my two daughters-in-law, but here it is…"

"May I see it?" Seven asked.

Irene nodded wordlessly, unzipping the bag fully and pulling it back to reveal her dress. Seven had no idea how wedding dress styles had changed in the forty some years since Irene's wedding to her late Uncle Harald, and she didn't care. It was still a beautiful dress. It was ivory, full length, with a slight A-line in the chiffon skirt. The chiffon continued as a delicate overlay on a silk bodice with a modest v-neckline, returning as light cap sleeves at the shoulder. Irene turned the hanger to let her see the back, the v dropped much deeper there, where a simple chiffon bow cascaded into a smaller circular train. Irene's eyes had skimmed over the dresses spread over the container. "I see that your friends have stepped in with choices, lovely choices. Don't feel obliged Annika…"

"I'm not obliged, I want to." Seven cut her off, "Everyone was very kind, but this..." Her hand reached out to touch it but she let it drop before her fingers brushed the perfect fabric. "It's beautiful."

Irene beamed at her. "Then it's yours." She declared firmly, "I think it'll fit…" Her eyes swept over Seven, "We'd be the same height in similar shoes, and you won't believe it now, but before I had my boys my figure was almost as good as yours…"

Seven blushed, "Aunt Irene, I am pregnant." She swallowed, "Chakotay and I just found out…"

Irene gave a start even as delight passed over her face. "Is that what brought this wedding on so fast?" she asked frankly, "Plenty of people wait until after their children now, it's the 24th Century after all…"

Seven shook her head hurriedly, "No, our decision to get married was independent of that situation."

Irene stepped closer, hugging her gently, just remembering in time to pull back to let Seven see her lips as she spoke. "Good, as it should be." She smiled widely, tears in her eyes as she stroked her cheek reassuringly. "Congratulations to you both Annika."

Seven swallowed, her self-control ebbing under the influence of this old, comforting presence. "I'm afraid Aunt Irene…" she choked out guiltily.

Irene continued the caress of her cheek up looked her straight in the eye. "Everyone is afraid of having a baby Annika, its natural." She hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. "As for Earth being home, maybe it's not right now, for you, or for Chakotay, I know he's really from one of those devastated colonies…" She trailed off sadly her head in either sadness or frustration. "What I'm saying is that it can be a home for the two…" She smiled, "…the three of you in time. Just trust me on that." She waited for Seven's nod, "Now, how about we get you ready? I went to your Mess Hall before I came here and it's nearly ready. Chakotay's going a little wild I think, waiting…"

"Yes." Seven agreed with a tremulous smile of amusement. "Aunt Irene?" she questioned as she peered past her aunt momentarily to regard her own reflection in the mirror. "Can I trust you about the rest of my appearance also?"

Irene met her eye and smirked good-naturedly, "Yes…I think we'll tone the make-up down just a little. As for your hair…" She scanned the outfits on the containers before carefully pulling at something. She turned back to Annika with a piece of red ribbon held aloft. "Is red still your favourite colour Annika?" As Seven nodded, Irene moved to tuck the flyaway strands under the ribbon, which she pressed to the crown of her golden head, before tying it under her loose hair around the base of her head, creating a makeshift headband. "Perfect." She stated knowingly as Seven smiled in pleasure and amazement.

The wedding wasn't lavish by any means. Nothing could give the grey standardisation of the Mess Hall the romantic ambience of an old church or an ornate ballroom but there were inspired touches. Hydroponics, which was useless now, had a last hurrah as all the flowers that could be uprooted decked out flowers and chairs. A few could donate tea candles from their rooms. A runner was improvised, from all things the curtains that Neelix had finally put up just before he'd left. The pattern wasn't as garish as anyone expected.

Naomi led Seven in, beaming from ear to ear. No one thought they'd seen wider until they saw Seven herself, most had never seen her smile in four years. Somehow, Chakotay's grin stunned them even more, perhaps because they hadn't realised how guarded his expression had been before. The ceremony, conducted simultaneously in speech and sign, had a few hiccups, the Captain was more nervous for her first role as officiant than she'd thought. However, the rings Admiral Paris had brought, miraculously, fitted perfectly. The man himself was proudly holding his granddaughter, B'Elanna had refused to stay in Sickbay while Chakotay got married but was still exhausted. After the kiss, longer than strictly necessary, everyone rose to their feet as one. Seven couldn't hear their clapping or celebratory whooping, but it hardly mattered, she could see their smiles clearly.

"…and the itsy-bitsy spider went down the waterspout!" Her little rosebud lips stretched out the word 'waterspout' dramatically, and she was giggling wildly, if Seven hadn't known what she was saying already, her lips would've been impossible to read. Her signing was even more illuminating, more amusing. Seven had had little idea how to translate the rhyme, but her little nimble, inventive fingers had created one. Her 'SPIDER' was huge, her 'WATER' a flood and she was having lots of fun with 'itsy-bitsy', there was new variation in the signs for that with every fresh repetition. Aurora Kathryn Kotay. Three years old and a bundle of irrepressible energy. Her sign name was a personalisation of the one for 'LIGHT'. Her parents were glad that it suited her.

"Mama…" Aurora began, "When will Leo be able to read with us? All he does is sleep..."

"Babies need to sleep a great deal." Seven explained with a smile, like her daughter speaking and signing all at once, "Growing so much takes a significant amount of energy." She chuckled to herself as Aurora hopped off the couch and rushed to peer into the bassinet to study her little brother.

Aurora turned back to face her mother, an automatic move for her whenever she spoke. Her dark brows were already drawing into a sceptical frown. "I can't see much difference Mama, he's still small."

Seven rose slowly from the couch to join her, still sore from childbirth. Leo Kolopak hadn't felt small then. "Well, he is compared to you my love, but you are three years older remember."

Aurora quirked an eyebrow in a way that would've, and had previously, put Chakotay in stitches. "I know that." Her signing made her incredulity all the more obvious. "But won't he ever catch up with me so we can play?"

"He's going to love playing with you." Seven assured her quickly, "And eventually he may be as tall as your Papa."

Aurora's hazel eyes went as round as saucers, flicking disbelievingly between her baby brother in the bassinet and her mother's face. "Really?" Her face became thoughtful as Seven nodded solemnly, trying not to laugh. "Maybe he can take some time getting that big, I can wait awhile. He must be bored now though."

"Perhaps." Seven humoured her as she bent slightly to check on her eight week old son. Of course he was growing on schedule, was actually chunkier than his sister, who'd been all arms and legs. His chubby, pink little face was capped by a head of ink black hair and, as he began to stir, round brown eyes blinked up her. He already looked like Chakotay in Seven's estimation. "Are you bored?" she murmured to him, signing too, smiling to herself when the baby yawned, answer enough then. She'd better pick him up, if he was awake, crying for a feed wasn't far behind, and according to Chakotay his cries were loud roars that called to mind his sign name, 'LION', more than a little. As she started to gather him into her arms, she became aware that Aurora was no longer beside her. Anxiously, she scanned the room for her, sighing in pleased relief when she saw that Chakotay had arrived home and Aurora was already under his feet, engaging him in rapid conversation. Her lips were moving unceasingly, hands flying to keep up.

She waited for the slightest pause from Aurora before meeting Chakotay's eye, though he was more capable of keeping multiple conversations up at once than she was. His lips still spoke to Aurora, quieting her, while his gaze and signing focused on his wife. "HOW WAS YOUR FIRST DAY?" he asked anxiously.

Seven shrugged wryly, "AS EXPECTED." She replied, gladly letting him put his arms around her, seeing some of the tension leave his broad shoulders. As much as he trusted her with their children, more than she trusted herself, she knew he'd been anxious about leaving her alone with a toddler and a baby as his paternity leave ended. In some ways she just had to be dependent on him. When Aurora had been a young baby she'd, to his chagrin, carried her around with her everywhere when alone in case she cried, no matter how much her arms ached. She couldn't retreat to that safety measure now, with Aurora to run after, reliant on technology and Aurora's ears. "And how was your work?" she asked him carefully as his head bent to kiss Leo's head.

"Also as expected, hard-going." Despite the frown forming on his brow, Chakotay tried to smile at her reassuringly. "Don't worry honey, I'll get back into the swing of it." Seven freed one arm from Leo to squeeze his hand. In many ways, since Voyager's return to Earth, they'd been moved from pillar to post by the powers that be, at least work wise. Seven less so, her area of expertise was the Borg as far as Starfleet and the Quadrant at large were concerned, she would always be in demand in that field, but Chakotay had been less convenient to pigeon hole. For a time after Aurora was born he'd thrown in the towel with Starfleet and pursued academia, but for the moment he'd been called back as a consultant with the Federation Commission investigating conditions in the DMZ. Seven knew that Admiral Janeway had had to fight for him to get the post, the tacit acknowledgement from Starfleet of misdeeds done, but still they'd both been uncertain whether he should take the job. Seven knew that even as recently as 18 months ago, it would've been an impossible emotional hurdle for him, but he'd healed further even in that time. Still, she watched him like a hawk, ready to listen and to advise, to assure him that there would be no shame in leaving if it grew too much. Chakotay, as if reading her thoughts, kissed her soundly and reassuringly. "Mostly I'm just glad to be home." He told her warmly before kneeling to hug an insistent Aurora.

Seven found that now, finally, she could smile at the word 'home'.

A/n: Please review. If anything, this story proves that if I keep a story on my profile, it will be finished eventually. :)