Pictures From The Past
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Star Trek Voyager
Copyright: Paramount
"You remembered," was all Seven could say.
"Of course." Irene Hansen smiled shakily and picked up the knife. "Would you - "
"Please."
The older woman cut into the strawberry cake on the tray between them as cautiously as a surgeon. The slice she cut, warm from the oven, its top layer of gelatin bright as rubies, looked almost too beautiful to eat.
After transferring it to Seven's plate, Irene turned to her other guest, who was sitting on Seven's left. "Doctor, would you care for a – oh, excuse me. I forgot."
"That's quite all right, Ms. Hansen," said the Doctor, with a gracious wave of the hand. "I'll take it as a compliment to my creator."
Nevertheless, Irene's fauxpas caused an awkward silence to settle in, making the bright, airy living room with its pinewood furniture, white walls, light green upholstery and floor-to-ceiling glass window feel smaller than it should have. It had been Seven's idea to bring the Doctor along, but she was beginning to wonder if that had been a good idea. She had spoken to Irene via video-comm several times, before and after Voyager's return to Earth, but her trip to Dorvan with Chakotay had delayed their face-to-face meeting, and so, afterwards, had breaking up with him and moving to San Francisco as a Starfleet Academy professor. She felt guilty for postponing this meeting for so long, but the truth was that, family or no, she still didn't know what to say to this stranger who shared her blood. She'd brought the Doctor with her to smooth the way, introduced him right away as her life partner, but what if all his peculiarities combined with Seven's at one table only made things worse?
Seven glanced at the Doctor for reassurance, recalling their social lessons. Ask about their work. Show some interest. "How is the Enterprise-NX project progressing?"
"It's almost done." Irene smiled proudly. She was a historian, and currently working as a consultant on a holoprogram showing the first voyage of Captain Archer's Enterprise. "I did a trial run the other day, on the bridge as their communications officer. It was the strangest feeling, let me tell you. What with all the research I did, I was sure I knew what it would it feel like, living on a 22nd-century spaceship – but the sounds, the textures, the people … I almost forgot they were holograms."
Another silence. Seven's teacup clinked against her saucer a little too loudly as she set it down. The Doctor made a visible effort to look neutral, but tension was written all over his face.
"Oh dear." Irene smoothed her white hair and sat up straight. "I wasn't planning to discuss this so early, but I suppose we'd better get it out of the way. Directness is a Hansen family trait, as I'm sure you both know. So, Doctor, you are a hologram … and Annika's partner … and her physician?"
Seven squeezed the Doctor's hand under the table, a warning as much as a reassurance. Please don't make a scene. He glanced at her with a familiar spark in his hazel eyes. I know what I'm doing, thank you very much, she imagined him saying.
"I'm a sentient hologram, in fact," he said, with controlled politeness. "If my well-publicized hearing at Starfleet Headquarters didn't convince you of that, ma'am, I'm afraid - "
"Your sentience isn't the issue," Irene interrupted, blue eyes flashing. Seven caught a fleeting memory of her father during one of his more stubborn moments; she wondered if her own eyes ever looked like that. "If an android can serve on Starfleet's flagship, why not you? No, Doctor, the issue here is your relationship with my niece."
Seven could feel her cheeks heating up. She fought back a childish urge to yell, like the six-year-old Irene remembered her as. That would never convince her aunt of what she needed to know, namely that Seven was twenty-nine years old and perfectly able to run her own love life without interference. She called on the structure of the Collective to calm her mind.
"I owe him my life, Irene, many times over. He was instrumental in freeing me from the Borg."
"I know." Irene inclined her head ever so slightly, her sleek white bun of hair catching the sunlight. How many other mannerisms did they have in common? "And I'll be grateful to him for the rest of my life. That doesn't change the fact that it's unethical for a doctor and patient to be … to be … " She waved a hand irritably between her two guests, searching for a word. "Involved. Especially when that doctor's very existence depends on some future gadget nobody understands." She narrowed her eyes at the Doctor's left forearm, where the mobile emitter clung to his sleeve.
Despite her anger, Seven had a flash of understanding. Irene was worried. She had lost a brother, a sister-in-law and a niece to the Borg; now that said niece had returned to her against all odds, Irene was determined to protect her, whether she asked for protection or not. Captain Janeway was the same with her crew. Seven had the feeling the two women would get along very well.
If this were Captain Janeway, Seven decided, what would she do? Be logical. Be strong.
"My own existence depends on the remnants of Borg technology in my system," she said. Irene blanched. That may not have been the best opening statement. "What I mean to say is, the Doctor and I are both, to some extent, artificial beings. This makes us more vulnerable than most humans in some areas, but stronger than others. It is also something we have in common."
"As for ethics," the Doctor added, "I could argue that, if I followed that rule, I'd be alone for the rest of my very long life. You must understand, Ms. Hansen, that our situation is unique. For the first three years since my activation, I was confined to Sickbay. I never set eyes on anyone who wasn't my patient, literally. If I wanted friends, or – or any kind of relationship – my only options were my crewmates. Or a stranger who would send us a distress call … but they never stayed for long." By the hushed tone of his voice, she wondered if he was thinking of Tincoo or Denara Pel. "I never meant to fall in love with your niece, Ms. Hansen, it simply happened. You can blame music. I heard her sing one day and … " He mimed an explosion. "That was it."
"The Doctor has long since learned how to balance affection and duty," said Seven. She thought of him repairing her cortical node after finding her with the holographic Chakotay. "It is my ethics that should concern you, Irene. I am his physician too."
She shared a wry smile with the Doctor.
"You're … " Irene's blue eyes became round as two tiny planets. "I don't understand."
"My, er, my program was hacked a few times," said the Doctor, carefully avoiding the fact that once, his own twin from the Equinox had helped with the hacking. "Seven repaired me. At one point she even designed an encryption code for me, to make sure it would never happen again. I've also, well … let's just say she saved my photonic bacon more often than I can count, didn't you, Seven?"
Ensign Jetal's death and its aftermath. Captain Ranik and his war on holograms. The telepathic pitcher plant. The thirty-day drip through a toxic nebula. Each time, even when she didn't know him that well, the prospect of losing him had been unacceptable. Each time, against all odds, he had come back.
"You exaggerate." Seven smiled.
His answer was to wrap an arm around her waist and draw her close. "So you see, ma'am," he said to Irene, "It's not your average relationship we have. Except for one thing."
"And what's that?" asked the older woman, rather faintly, as if even hearing hints of their story had left her overwhelmed.
"I love her," said the Doctor. "Seven of Nine is my better self. I'd face deletion for her. And I'm not saying this lightly, because I already have."
"I feel the same way," Seven leaned her head against his shoulder. "He has made me human, in every sense of the word."
Irene watched them steadily for a long time without saying anything, her hands tightly folded in her lap. There was a glazed look in her eyes that made Seven anxious, as if the older woman couldn't even see them. Then Irene blinked, and she saw why: the sharp blue eyes that mirrored hers were overflowing with tears.
"Oh, my dears." She stood up and headed for a tissue box on a nearby shelf. "If you think that kind of love is average, I envy you." She pulled out a tissue, wiped her eyes with her back to her guests, and crossed the room to toss it into the recycler. By the time she turned back to face the younger people, she was smiling again, but it was a bittersweet smile. Even Seven could see that.
"Annika, you really are your father's daughter. He never took the easy way either. I still have my concerns, but I'm not a fool, thank goodness. My brother's girl came back to me, and with a man who makes her happy. Only a fool would spoil that."
Some families at this point might have hugged or kissed, but Irene only looked at her niece over the rim of her teacup. It was a look worth a thousand words.
She lowered her eyes and took a hearty bite of strawberry cake. "So, Doctor," she said briskly, "Welcome to the family. Mind you take good care of her."
"Thank you, Ms. Hansen," said the Doctor, with a humble nod. "I will."
"Call me Irene."