Note: I didn't make it clear in this first post that is multipart. So far, eight parts and counting, but I'll hold the others until I know it's worth posting them...; ) BTW, spoilers for Imperfection. References to: Equinox, Collective, Unimatrix Zero, Child's Play.

p a r t o n e

We were in transporter room one, Seven, Icheb, the kids, the twins' mother- a tall, slender woman with a kind face and nice eyes- and I. They'd even offered to take Mezoti. I didn't know whether I was sad or glad for that last. She and my Assistant have become very close, almost like sisters. Naomi will miss Mezoti, and I'm sure her small friend will do likewise.

Now young Mezoti, her large, wise eyes seeming incongruous in her thin face, is standing before Icheb, and I feel my eyes mist over. They've been through so much, all of them. Looking at them now, and not for the first time, I thanked whatever deities exist that I had not, after all, had to destroy them.

"It's not too late," Mezoti is saying to Icheb. In anyone else I'd have called that tone wistful, but Mezoti admires Seven tremendously and does her best to imitate our eldest drone's impassive voice. "You could come with us," she urges.

Icheb looks down at her. His face is soft. "And you could stay on Voyager," he reminds her.

Mezoti's face falls. For a moment, she looks like the eight year old child she should always have been. "Adapting to your absence will be difficult," she tells Icheb, doing her best to maintain her Borg persona.

Icheb, always-ironically- the most human of our Borg quintette, smiles down at her. Azan and Rebi have always been so close, leaving the other two to draw inexorably together. Especially since the death of the baby.

"I will miss you," Icheb admits to Mezoti. The little girl looks stricken, and I feel my heart constrict.

As the children turn to Seven, who has been their mentor, guide, and surrogate mother these last months, I have to struggle even harder to maintain my composure. Seven would never admit it, but I know she loves these children with all the understated passion of which she is capable.

And they love her. That's plainly obvious in Mezoti's face as she steps towards Seven and I.

I reach out and touch the child's shoulder, and caress her cheek. She accepts the open affection with surprising ease, but perhaps that's because her entire attention is focused on Seven.

I let my hand drop from Mezoti and move away, towards Icheb, to give Seven, Mezoti, and the twins some privacy in these last moments together. His eyes are grieved, but I manage to resist the temptation to offer him facile, but ultimately meaningless, tactile comfort.

I turn my attention back to Seven. Mezoti is standing before her, saying something about learning the manners of the twins' people. She mentions customs of greeting and farewell….and then my tears really do nearly fall, as this child, who has been violated in a way that no child should ever be violated, says "..but I prefer the human way," and throws her arms around Seven with a lack of self-consciousness I thought I'd never see.

Seven- my proud, independent former drone-cum-friend-cum unofficial science officer-cum surrogate daughter- is frozen. Then, for perhaps the first time in her life, she returns an embrace, her arms folding lightly around the child, and then tightening protectively, possessively.

I blink. She's come so far. I remember the frightened, but ultimately aloof, young woman I freed from the Borg nearly four years ago. If someone had told me then, that morning when she paced the brig and threatened to kill me, that four years later I would see her hold a child with tenderness and love, I would never have believed them. I find myself wishing for Chakotay's presence. My first officer, a man of great tenderness himself, would appreciate Seven's gesture. Appreciate it, and be overwhelmed by it. Just as I am. Furtively, I wipe my eyes, but for once I don't care that others can see. This is, above all, a family occasion.

I watch as Mezoti steps back, and the twins fling themselves on Seven with a joint enthusiasm that startles her- and the rest of us. And then the transporter beam catches them, and they're gone…

A strange silence lingers in the air. Seven, probably without realising it, has gravitated towards me, and it's my turn to feel protective. In spite of her nearly twenty-eight years, at this moment she's younger than the sixteen year old Icheb, who is clearly dealing better with all this than she is.

Not that that's so surprising. Icheb was assimilated less than two years ago; he'd already formed a distinct personality, a character, and regaining his individuality has actually been less traumatic than the discovery of his parents' betrayal.

Seven, on the other hand, was assimilated at the age of six. Her decision to continue using the Borg designation of Seven of Nine rather than her human name of 'Annika Hansen' speaks volumes about the differences between her and the rest of our young refugees, who have chosen-with her encouragement- to reclaim their own names.

I place my arm around Seven, and judge her vulnerability by the fact that, for a split second, she leans against me. As soon as I feel her stiffen again, I step away. Then, after looking from Icheb to Seven and back again, I leave for the bridge.

In the turbolift, I find myself thinking that Seven's left eye, the one with the optical implant, had seemed to shine… with unshed tears? Seven, crying? If so, that was another step in regaining her humanity.

Despite my own pain at the loss of the children, I'm smiling as I step out of the 'lift and make my way to the Big Chair.

Perhaps all things really do work together for good…

I exchange glances and smiles with my First Officer before settling down to work. It looks like it's going to be a good day.

"I remember that," Chakotay interjected. "Despite the fact that I knew you were unhappy about the kids, and for Seven, losing them, you came to the bridge with a bounce in your step."

Kathryn grinned at him. "Yes, and you thanked the spirits for it, didn't you, Commander? Think I don't know that my bad moods make your job more difficult?" Her grin faded as less pleasant memories ran through her mind.

"It's all right, Kathryn."

"I don't deserve you."

"Sure you do. Now get on with the story. You've got Phoebe on tenterhooks here."

Kathryn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "Yes, she's barely hanging on to the edge of her seat. Oh, all right, I'll get on with it.

"Everything changed in the early hours of the morning. I'd tried, as I so often do, to get some sleep. When the exercise proved it's usual futility, I slipped out of bed- quietly, so as to not wake Chakotay- and settled down with my copy of the Inferno and a mug of coffee. Decaf. Then my badge chirped…"