A/n: As with the first chapter, the only difference is the lack of song lyrics. Thanks again for your patience.
Seven ran her Borg enhanced tricorder over the sample but, just as she'd expected, the readings were garbled and utterly useless. She sighed and laid aside the small phial, for an instant her eyes were captivated by the piece of swirling multicoloured cloud but she quickly dismissed her musings on its strange beauty as irrelevant. They'd wasted a probe going into the storm, it had returned ruined from its quest into the "spacial hurricane" and that was after she'd informed the Captain that no sensors ever assimilated had been able to shed light on the phenomenon but of course the Captain had insisted on discovering that for herself…
A crash that shook the entire Cargo Bay made her jump violently, dropping the tricorder as she did so. Even without access to a viewport she knew it was the storm's doing, the Cargo Bay was particularly vulnerable to its affects because it was in the very bowels of the ship. With a shiver of unease she bent down to pick up the tricorder, for some irrational reason fear nagged at her, the roars of the storm and the way it made Voyager shudder and jolt reminded her of being on a Borg Cube under attack, the vividly coloured clouds undeniably brought back memories of Fluidic Space… She closed her eyes for a moment to recollect herself, only now realising just how much her implants were throbbing with pain. Slowly she lifted her cybernetic hand up to her face, clenching it into a fist, yes; it was definitely malfunctioning in some way. No wonder, a reasonable voice in her head muttered, she hadn't regenerated for almost three days, ever since they'd entered the storm… Well, there was no way to avoid it now; the Doctor would become irate at her physical tomorrow if his scans showed she hadn't been regenerating. Sighing in resignation even as her gut tightened in apprehension, Seven slowly entered her designated alcove but the soothing veil of unconsciousness didn't come as she expected, instead pain radiated through every one of her nerves and strange visions danced before her eyes…
She could feel wet grass under her feet but her mind declared that impossible, though as her head lifted she saw a rainforest that was unfamiliar to her, and yet she felt more at home there than she'd ever felt anywhere else… A male voice filled her ears; one she sensed was normally gentle and inviting but was at that moment raspy and harsh with anger, "Chakotay!" Seven's mind was dazed, but with all her experience of the Collective she now realised what was happening to her, she was somehow linked with the Commander.
She felt his indignant anger and hurt as he raised his eyes level with the speaker, an older man, his hair grey and his nut coloured skin weather beaten with age and strain, "Father, you've always said that the Sprits lead people on their paths, why won't you accept that mine is with Starfleet? I've never belonged here and I never will!"
Seven knew he was aware of the pain which flashed across his father's features, but she also felt his stubborn pride flow through her and ignored it as much as he did, until his father shouted at him, his voice filled with lonely, resigned anger, "If you truly believe that son, then I have failed as your father and taught you nothing! Leave this place and me behind if you want to, if you're able to!"
Seven felt Chakotay's mouth open in shock at his words but before any of the words that came to those lips could be spoken, repeated shouts of anger, regretful and apologising murmurs, a rumble in the sky pulled their eyes upwards, odd green streaks staining storm clouds that hadn't been there a moment before. In the back of her preternaturally knowledgeable mind, Seven knew what it was but the horrible shock of realisation hit both her and Chakotay with a shared force, "Cardassian weapons! We're under att…" The warning to his father came out as a strangled cry but even that came too late. The blackened sky was suddenly alight with fire that fell to the planet within seconds. Seven felt the screams of fear hit his ears and the sickening smell of burning flesh enter his nostrils, the racing of his heart as an invisible force pushed him to the ground and a scream was ripped from his chest, "Dad!"
His stare was blank as he stared out at the charred surface of his home planet, but his emotions to which Seven couldn't help but suffer with him raged underneath the silent exterior. He ached to cry, to expel the grief but paralysing shock overlaid with guilt stopped that fragile form of release and he stayed unmoving, as if dead himself. Seven herself had known the pain and fear of separation but the wrench of his grief was a different animal to anything she had experienced and she felt utterly out of control, trying in desperation to pull herself out of this link but only pulling herself further in as Chakotay finally vented, the burning heat of his rage and hatred building up and overtaking them both completely as he drove a fist into the viewport shield, tears finally finding an escape route in the pain of that self-inflicted injury. His thoughts dominated over hers, the Sprits, what did they lead my people to? What did Starfleet's peace treaty lead them to? Nothing, nothing but death.
His legs strained to full length as he ran, Seven could feel the gasps of his hungry lungs as he pushed through heavy undergrowth, an old assault phaser weighing down his right hand as he moved slowly forward. Suddenly a rusted Cardassian guard post came into view and Chakotay ran towards it at someone else's shout. He got there so quickly that a young Cardassian sentry hadn't even reached for his weapon when Chakotay fired; he died with his eyes open wide in shock, his body falling with a soft thump that reverberated in Chakotay's ears. Seven felt the thrill of victory, of revenge, course through him first but soon disgust, at himself, at the entire situation, descended upon him. Then, as his comrades rejoined him and congratulated him on his first "spoonhead" kill, resignation filled Chakotay, Seven heard his thought that it had to be done but was surprised by the lack of guilt, the clarity of his grief and his determination for justice had obviously overwhelmed that first instinct.
Within a millisecond the setting of the memories changed entirely, Seven now recognised the Captain's ready room. She was standing at her desk, a cool, tired smile, fixed on her face as she said, "So, we're agreed? We'll merge our crews and work together to get back home. I'm willing to offer you the position of First Officer…" Her eyebrows rose slightly, "…that is if you're willing to take it?"
Seven was shocked by Chakotay's thought, do I have a choice? What would my crew do if I didn't? He smiled, but Seven could tell it wasn't real, "Yes…Captain. That seems to be the best option."
Janeway beamed at him, Seven agreed with Chakotay's silent thoughts that she looked well aware of her superiority over him, "I'm glad we agree. Let's get started then, shall we Commander?"
"Of course Captain." He replied in a professional tone, only Seven aware of the frown that creased his features as he turned his back on Janeway and the foreboding thought that accompanied it, is that going to be my position from now on? Your token Maquis?
Seven felt her knees crash onto the hard Cargo Bay floor as she fell from the alcove, such was the force of the link's sudden snap. Gasping, she tried to process what had happened, it wasn't possible, it had to be some sort of malfunction of her alcove, a nightmare about the night he'd freed her from the Borg perhaps? Even as these thoughts ran through her brain she knew they weren't true and the tears which streaked her face, shed for him when he could not, proved that the experience had been real.
Seven walked as purposefully as she could to Sickbay, trying to stop her legs from shaking as she entered. "Doctor, I…" She began but stopped abruptly in her tracks when she saw who was sitting on the biobed being scanned by the Doctor. "I…I apologise Commander..."
Chakotay blanched at the sight of her but recollected himself when he saw how furiously she was blushing, looking for any excuse to bolt. She's probably feeling as embarrassed as you are! He reprimanded himself before hurriedly saying, "It's…it's okay Seven."
The Doctor smiled with gentle understanding at them both, "I was just about to call you Seven, it seems there's been a little mishap…"
"Mishap?" Seven echoed tightly, "Is that how you would describe this?"
"I presume that you also had a nightmare of sorts last night?" the Doctor asked, ignoring her tone as he read Chakotay's scan results.
Seven swallowed hard, avoiding Chakotay gaze, "Yes…you could call it that."
The Doctor gestured to the biobed next to the one Chakotay was sitting on, "I'll scan you to confirm my theory, shall I?"
Seven obliged and let him scan her. "I already know what happened, our neural link was somehow re-established."
The Doctor nodded. "That was my hypothesis, given what the Commander told me, but I think I know why…"
"Why?" Chakotay and Seven asked in unison, creating another awkward silence in the room for several moments.
"Your scans show that the Borg neural transceivers in your respective spines have been active over the last twelve hours, I believe something in the spacial hurricane reactivated them and forged a link between the two of you, most likely a form of powerful electrostatic pulse, but we'll probably never know for certain."
"Will it happen again?" Chakotay asked pensively.
"I don't think so, this situation was very unique." The Doctor replied confidently.
"Good." Chakotay breathed in relief, before glancing shamefacedly at Seven, "I'm sorry that I saw your memories Seven, I had no right…"
Her reaction wasn't what he'd expected, her brow furrowing in confusion, "My memories? It was your memories I saw…"
Chakotay's jaw clenched in horrified disbelief, "What?"
The Doctor saw Seven's face pale and stepped in, clearing his throat, "It seems that your minds have done an exchange of some sort…" He muttered but fell silent again when he saw their expressions, "I think it would be best for you two to talk it over, I have…some health checks to conduct in Engineering anyway…" He caught both their glances pleading with him not to leave but just repeated his excuses and left them to it.
After a few minutes of silence Seven spoke, looking more flustered than Chakotay had ever seen her, in life or in the dream. "We need not talk about this if you do not wish to Commander, you have my word that I will never breach your privacy or share what I have learned…"
"I knew that Seven." He replied quietly as he lifted his eyes to meet her frightened ones. Frightened? Did she think he was going to be angry with her for something neither of them could control? "And I won't either, but the Doctor's right, it would be better to talk it over.
"A catharsis?" Seven offered nervously.
He smiled in agreement. "Yeah, I think we could call it that."
They hadn't gone much further than a brief outline of which memories belonging to the other when Chakotay, although still stinging from hearing of his father's death told from her lips, having pondered in silence for a while, asked her a question out of the blue, "Why do you think this happened Seven?"
Seven's lips twisted in bemusement, apprehensive as to his meaning, "The Doctor explained… The storm created a link between our neural…"
Chakotay shook his head, "No, I didn't ask how it happened, I asked why. Why did we see those particular memories?"
Seven paused to think for a moment. "I do not know Commander…" She stated honestly. "But when drones exchange information as we did, generally when switching roles when in a Cube, it is the most vital memories which are transferred."
Chakotay considered her answer, "Did you ever think…it was because we could help each other with them? They were the some of most traumatic memories we have…"
"I would not be so presumptuous as to think I could console you Commander." Seven admitted, her face serious and saddened.
Chakotay shot her a kindly look, "You're underestimating yourself Seven. I'm no different from anyone else." Her incredulous look told him she didn't believe him and he decided to bring up the subject he'd been longing to broach with her, "Seven, you know that those three Borg who were linked together, that wasn't your fault."
Seven's head snapped up, her eyes hot. "Of course it was! It was I who did that to them, I wouldn't allow them to regain their individuality, I stole it from them a second time…" Her voice was anguished and remembering the suffocating guilt from her memory, he reached out for her hand.
She stiffened in surprise at his touch but relaxed as he squeezed it and spoke in his most convincingly soothing tone, "It was the Collective that did that Seven, they used you, as they always did, to do their bidding. I know that your memories didn't come back at theirs did, you were so young, and must have been driven nearly insane by being disconnected, just as I felt when we freed you…" He trailed off as she winced, "They understood all that and so do I, but you need to allow yourself to believe that it's not your fault."
Seven nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "I've always understood guilt to be a useful emotion, it tells you not to repeat a mistake, but sometimes it can be destructive." She took a deep breath, as he nodded in agreement. "Your father's death was a tragedy but it should not be a source of guilt for you." She stopped him replying with a stubborn look, "Yes you argued at an unfortunate time but your actions here on this ship show that you take his influence with you everywhere, you are a leader of this crew, both Maquis and Starfleet, and I know he would be proud of that."
He gulped back a lump in his throat both at her words and the intense level of empathy on her face. "I hope you're right Seven, truly I do."
Seven's head lowered in modest acceptance of his answer, waiting several minutes before saying again, more confidently and in a more familiar tone, "I think this has been a worthwhile conversation for me, thank you Commander."
Chakotay smiled at her turn of phrase, "It has been for me too Seven."