Part 14 - 17

Kim climbed the steps to her front door. Was that the jangle of the phone inside? Hurrying to unlock the door, she fumbled with her keys then dropped them and watched as they bounced to the bottom step.

"Damn." Stooping, she grabbed them and jammed the house key into the lock. She grabbed the phone just as her answering machine kicked in.

"Hello?" she said, breathlessly.

"You sound out of breath and way too eager, babe. Am I interrupting?" her caller asked.

"Hey, Carol." Kim tossed her keys down on the coffee table and slumped onto her leather couch. "I'm out of breath because I've been jogging, wise guy."

"Ooooh. Jogging. Sound to me like someone's working out some big time frustration."

"Is there a reason behind this call?" Kim asked, reaching down to unlace her Nike shoes.

"Just calling to share the details of my hot date with you, darlin. You want to hear or not."

"You planning to make me jealous?"

Carol chortled. "Me make you jealous? That's a good one."

"While there's nothing more enjoyable than hearing you replay every little breath and whimper it'll have to wait. I need a shower."

"Okay. I'll catch you later. You working at the hospital today?"

"Nope. I switched shifts. Got a three day weekend in store, remember?" That was one of the reasons she'd gone out last night, a Thursday, hoping that she'd get lucky and have someone to spend the long weekend with. **But you don't always get what you wish, Kimmy.**

"Want to get together tonight?" Carol asked.

For a moment Kim was tempted, but she didn't need a rehash of Carol's love life. Particularly since her own was nonexistent at the moment.

"I have plans." Plans to stay home and re-organize her kitchen, maybe make a little progress on that new research paper with Anya, or wallpaper her living room. She was sure she could come up with something.

"Plans?" The snicker was back in Carol's voice. "With the redhead?"

I wish. "No, she's out of the picture."

"You're better off. Short, sassy, redheads."

"Yeah, I know the drill. I'll call you later."

Kim frowned as she hung up, knowing that Carol didn't deserve such a snippy reply. She just couldn't seem to help it. She yanked her shoes and socks off. Nothing was working. The jog hadn't helped, the talk with Anya hadn't helped, she was still feeling restless and out of sorts. Plus she hadn't gotten any sleep last night.

And she was mildly pissed that her answering machine held absolutely no new messages. Had she really expected something from Kathryn. A follow-up to the goodbye kiss, maybe? Forget it. The woman was history. Over and done with.

Separation anxiety was biting her in the ass. Kim knew that drill too. Could recite it chapter and verse to her patients. For a woman in her mid thirties, she just had a god awful time saying goodbye to people. Maybe it was because Daddy was a salesman on the road three weeks out of every month. Part of Kim continued to cling even when a relationship was over. Anya compared her need to keep her exes around to her reluctance to part with the old clothes that cluttered her closet.

But she was trying to overcome this flaw. That's why the move to the West Coast, far away from one ex in particular.

Kim headed to the bathroom, stripping off her sweats and underwear and tossing them in the rattan hamper. She turned the lever on in the shower to start the water, thinking about her weekend. She hadn't really been lying to Carol. Anya had suggested they write a follow-up to their paper and apply for a national grant. That would mean more paperwork, of course.

Kim lifted a long supple leg as she stepped into the shower stall. The tension in her body dissolved as the hot water rained down on her skin. That new GROHE shower head was a marvel, pulsing at her in all directions. She reached an arm out and turned the dial on the shower head an inch to the right so a harder pulse would shoot out. She closed her eyes as the water sluiced over her hair and down her chest and back.

She picked up the large bar of soap from the tray in the shower wall. It was an expensive rose-scented Scottish soap, hand-milled, one of her indulgences. It was actually economical since one bar would last for weeks. She remembered how amused Kerry had been by its size, her small hand, unable to wrap around the bar that had squirted to the floor of the shower at every opportunity. Kim smiled as she remembered how she'd pick it up and slide the bar up and down the small of Kerry's back, carefully circling around her bad leg and up her flanks, before putting the bar away and sliding her own heated body against the soap-slicked ER chief.

**Don't go there. Are you nuts?** Kim yanked the lever from hot to cold. The blast of icy water made her shiver. She pulled the loofah sponge down from a hook. Time to lose a few epidermal cells and scrub those memories away.

"Listen to me. You are not going to die," Kerry said, putting her stethoscope to Seven's chest and listening to her heart beat. It was strong and a little slow, but nothing near death. Nielsen had taken off to pick up the Chinese food and the two women were alone in his apartment. "Your pulse is strong...and your respiration and blood pressure are normal." She put her instruments back in the black bag that she had gotten out of her car trunk.

"My nanoprobes are keeping my life signs stable. A temporary measure at best. If I do not regenerate, the Borg implants will eventually consume my flesh."

"Stop saying that," Weaver ordered, annoyed by the ghoulish images that came to mind. It was something out of a horror show: The Implants from Outer Space. The Flesh-Eating Implants.

**God.** She needed to get the woman in to see DeRaad right now. A pleasant delusion about the 24th century was one thing, but voicing a death wish was something else.

"You and Professor Nielsen will figure out a way to get you back to your century, remember?" Kerry said now.

Seven blinked then nodded. "You are correct. We are making that attempt. I should access his computer now."

Before leaving to pick up the order from the Chinese restaurant, the professor had pulled up his university account from which Seven would have access to the various computers on the links. She sat down now at the computer, conscious of the skeptical expression on Weaver's face.

"You're going to hack into something, aren't you?" Kerry asked.

"I am not a taxi cab," came the disdainful reply.

"These university computers are pretty high end and are linked to military and government networks. There are laws against accessing them illegally."

"I will be swift," Seven promised. The blonde put her left hand against the back of a computer port and her assimilation tubules protruded once again.
"What are you doing?" Weaver cried out.

"Downloading the information into my cortical node," Seven said, keying in commands with her right hand.

Kerry watched the bizarre scene unfold. It couldn't be happening and yet somehow the young woman's hand had made an electronic connection with the computer.
**Contact DeRaad stat!** She shook off her own inertia and took out her cell phone.

Walking away from Seven, she went into the small kitchen and quickly entered DeRaad's office number.

"Carl? Kerry Weaver. I have someone I'd like you to see this afternoon. Yes, I know you're busy. We're all busy. Tell me about it. This is important."

"Good. 2:15. Thank you, Carl. I owe you one. Her name is Annika Hansen."

She clicked off then decided to check her home answering machine. The only message was from Randi asking her to call in. The call had occurred earlier before she'd left for Evanston, but she hadn't noticed the blinking light. She just hoped it wasn't anything important.

In the ER Randi was handing her charts off to Almira who had come in just as she had promised Jerry.

"Thank you, God," Randi said, grabbing her purse from the back of the chair and getting ready to scram.

When the phone rang, she grinned and pointed to Almira. "Your turn. I'm out of here."

Almira waved as she spoke into the phone. "ER County General. Yes, Dr. Weaver." Almira held out the phone to Randi. "It's for you. Weaver says she's returning your early morning call."

"Hey, Dr. Weaver," Randi said.

"Just got your message off my machine. What's up?"

"It's about that woman who came into the ER last night."

"Which woman?"

"Blondie who took on the Groper."

Kerry was instantly alert. "Do you mean, Annika Hansen?"

"Yeah. Nicknamed Seven. A missing person's fax came in on her this morning from the West Coast." Randi lifted a couple of stray charts and found the fax.

"What? What did it say?"

"Just her name, a sketch and a California phone number. Dr. Carter said I should wait to call in case you knew more information about the woman. You did follow her last night. Did you catch up to her?"

Weaver stared across to where Seven slumped, still attached to the computer console. She found a scratch pad and pen.

"Let me have the phone number."

Randi read it off.

"You sure it's her?"

"They sent a sketch. She's hard to miss, you know."

"I know. Who sent out the fax?"

"The signature is just a scrawl," Randi said truthfully. "That's all I know." "Okay. Thanks, Randi. I'll take care of it."

Kerry turned off her phone. Annika Hansen was a missing person from the West Coast. Not someone from the 24th century.

She returned to the living room just in time to see Seven's tubules retract and the blonde detach herself from the computer.

"The link was successful. I now have the complete databases at my disposal," Seven announced.

"That was efficient."

The Borg gave a small smile, pleased.

"Seven, let's sit down a minute, shall we?"

Although Seven preferred to stand as a rule she knew that most humans preferred to sit when conversing, so she accompanied Kerry over to the small couch.

"Your ship Voyager, where is it located exactly?"

"Voyager was last located in sector 654 but headed to rendezvous with the Delta Flyer at sector 563. Once I am back on board we will attempt to make our way back to the Alpha Quadrant and Earth." She did not say what she feared, that perhaps Voyager would continue on without her.

"I see. Have you ever been to Earth before?"

"No. I was born on Tendara Colony. My parents were human and exobiologists interested in studying the Borg, so we lived on the Raven, our ship, until we were assimilated by the Collective."

"Before you came here to Chicago, where were you?"

Seven frowned, wondering why Weaver was asking so many questions. "I was in the Delta Flyer when I was transported somehow to the Alpha Quadrant in this century."

"Before you made your way to Chicago you didn't happen to spend any time in California?"

The Borg frowned. "No. I did not spend any time in California."

So why was someone in California reporting Seven missing?

Kathryn glanced down at the two identity cards. A State of Hawaii identification card that listed her place of birth as Los Angeles, California, her current address as 419 Kaiulani Avenue, Honolulu Hawaii, her hair color as red, eye color as blue, and height as five five. A random birth date made her a year younger which she could not object to. Although she could object to the photo in which she looked hideous.

"Why would a Californian be living in Hawaii?" she asked Grimaldi.

"Lots of people from California end up in Hawaii. It's paradise? You can say you're a teacher. They have a teacher shortage over there."

"Is this an authentic card?"

"Yes, ma'am. I got it right off this woman who had her purse snatched."

Kathryn wondered if Toby had supplied the stolen wallet.

"And the driver's license? Does it really need that rainbow across it? I look purple."

"Yes, it does. And all driver's licenses make the licensees look like criminals. It's part of the tradition. You'll notice I made you an organ donor."

"Thanks, I think."

"And I'm throwing in this little leather card case for you. See, the cards slide right in."

She paid Grimaldi the two hundred and fifty dollars and placed the wallet in her pants pocket."

Toby was still on the street when she walked down the flight of stairs from Grimaldi's office. No longer just eating, the teenager was busy, selling timepieces.

"Where did you get those?" she asked.

"Hey, never question my inventory."

"Are those hot?" she asked.

"Nah. Just knock offs. You want a watch?"

She did need a time piece. "How much?"

"For you thirty bucks. And don't try haggling, Emmet called me and said you're flush with cash."

She handed him the thirty dollars and took a gold wristwatch.

"Allow me." He adjusted the watch band and showed her how to set the alarm and use the timer.

"How did Emmet reach you?"

"Cell phone, what else."

"Can you call someone for me?"

"You got a number?"

Janeway gave him Kim's phone number. Maybe the blonde psychiatrist would be home.

"That's not a local call," Toby said. "You're lucky I got unlimited long distance and you are a good customer." He punched in the number and handed the phone to her.

Once again Kim was out, leaving only the tape of her voice. Kathryn ended the call without saying anything on the machine.

"Not home?"

"No. Toby, if you wanted to find out where someone lived how would you go about it?"

The teenager rolled his eyes. "And they say I'm trouble. Lady, you're asking me how to case someone's place?"

"I just need the address."

"Sure you do. You want the address that goes with that phone number you just dialed?"

"Yes."

"Simple. Just order a pizza."
 

BLONDE

Sitting on the floor of her bedroom, sorting through packing boxes of odds n ends she'd dragged months ago from Chicago, Kim heard the doorbell buzz. Was that Carol again? She'd called twice in the last hour. Kim rose to her feet, each vertebrae in her spine howling in protest as she made her way down the hall to the front door. A quick glance in the peephole. What in the world? A Pizza Hut delivery guy stood, holding a large square cardboard box.

Frowning, she opened the door.

"Your pizza, ma'am."

"I didn't order any pizza," she started to say.

"No, I did," a husky voice intoned as Kathryn Janeway exchanged a twenty dollar bill for the cardboard box the delivery man carried.

For a moment Kim stood in the open doorway, staring wordlessly at the Navy captain. Dimly she could hear the moped chugging away as the pizza guy drove off.

"I hope you like pizza," Kathryn said, at a similar loss for words as she gazed at the psychiatrist in the soft green polo shirt and khaki trousers. She was barefoot, and her blonde hair curled as though damp from a shower.
The last time she'd seen the blonde they'd been locking lips. Should she kiss her hello? Feeling the flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the thought of Kim's soft lips fastened on hers again, she hurried past the blonde into the house.

"I got a large, not a giant, whatever that is," Kathryn said, as she headed for the kitchen.

**My kitchen. My house.** Abruptly Kim wheeled 180 degrees and marched after Janeway.

The captain was busy, searching for plates and gazing ruefully at the top shelf of the cabinet. "A tall person lives here. You'll have to get them down if you don't want to eat out of the box. I'm too short. I'll sprain something."

The cabinet door swung shut with a flick of Kim's wrist. The sound ricocheted in the quiet room.

"Never mind the plates or the pizza. What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you lunch," she replied. "I got half vegetarian and half supreme."

"What are you doing here?" Kim repeated. She crossed her arms on her chest. Her slate blue eyes narrowed in anger.

**Easy does it, Kathryn.** Janeway was so accustomed to doing whatever she wanted when she wanted on board her starship that it was difficult to remember that she couldn't do that in this century.

Toby had called in an order to the pizza place and had been given an address to confirm. It was just as easy as he had predicted. Janeway's taxi had beat the moped by fifteen minutes. Long enough for a walk around the area. A little reconnaisance never hurt, and it did seem a pleasant residential district.

"I'm waiting for an answer."

"That lead I had on my friend turned up empty," came the bleak reply.

"I'm sorry," Kim said and meant it.

"I thought someone might have called here." Kathryn couldn't keep the hopeful note out of her husky voice.

Kim shook her head. Her initial annoyance at the other woman vanished. "Sorry, no one has called."

"Damn."

Kim reached up and took down two plates from the cabinet. She had just made a pitcher of iced tea, so she brought down two glasses as well.

"Come on, let's try that pizza and you can tell me what happened in Berkeley."

The captain sat down at the small glass table in the dining area. It had been a long shot, but she'd hoped someone somewhere knew something about Seven's whereabouts. Kim poured a glass of iced tea for Kathryn then sat down next to her.

"This pizza smells good." She spread open the box.

"The supreme half is supposed to have everything on it."

"And then some." Kim helped herself to a slice then picked off an anchovy and left it on her plate as she took a bite, not bothering with a fork. Janeway followed her example. Pizza was best eaten with the hands. That much was still the same whatever century.

The last time she'd eaten a genuine pizza slice was back home in Bloomington. Her mother had made it. This was almost as good, although the crust seemed chewier. Now if only Neelix, Voyager's cook, could make something remotely resembling this, morale on board ship would soar.

"Tell me what happened," Kim said gently.

"Not much to tell. I caught the BART to Berkeley."

"Any trouble on the subway?"

"Not going over. On the return trip I almost got my wallet snatched."

"Almost meaning you didn't," Kim said dryly. Alley muggers or subway pickpockets were no match for the Navy captain.

"I didn't even need my phaser thingie."

The blonde smirked.

Kathryn relaxed and continued with her story. "I followed the tricorder readings but Seven wasn't there. The tricorder picked up something else. It must have a malfunction."

"Glitch in the high tech gadget? The software isn't produced by Microsoft, is it?"

Kathryn battled a long string of mozzarella cheese and tried to recall what Microsoft was. Some archaic computer company probably.

"No, it's military issue."

Kim picked up a lemon wedge from the bowl in the center of the table and began squeezing the juice into her iced tea glass. She had strong fingers, Kathryn noted, wrapping the mozzarella finally around her own index finger and chewing it absentmindedly.

"So what do you plan to do now?" the psychiatrist asked, wiping her hands on a napkin.

"I don't know."

"Why did you come back here, Kathryn?"

Janeway lifted her head. Blue eyes met blue again. It was the first time Kim had addressed her by name since she'd come into her house.

She cleared her throat. An old command trick she'd learned in Starfleet Academy. "I told you. I needed to find out if anyone had called about Seven."

"You could have just phoned me," Kim said softly.

"I tried twice. You were out."

"Oh." Kim felt momentarily deflated. So much for thinking this impromptu visit was more than what Kathryn said it was. About Seven.

"Besides, I wanted to see you again."

**Of course. You turned down a pass in the bedroom, guerilla kissed me in the car, dropped a hundred dollar bill on my lap and now you turn up pizza in hand. Oh, and let's not forget, you're straight!**

So why was she grinning like she'd won the lottery?

Seven of Nine watched warily as Carl DeRaad settled in to the beige-colored seat opposite hers, notebook and pen in hand. They were in his office in the hospital where she had first met Kerry. It was because of her promise to Kerry earlier this morning that she consented to this meeting with Dr. DeRaad. The Borg did not break her promises. And Kerry had seemed particularly anxious that they return to Chicago in time to make this 2:15 appointment, despite Seven's wish to continue her work with Harry Nielsen.

DeRaad reminded her of Commander Chakotay with his stocky, broad shouldered build, although his skin tone was paler than the Commander's Native Indian complexion, and he bore no obvious tattoos.

"So, Annika, how are you feeling today?"

Seven bit back her automatic response of functioning within normal parameters. For one thing it was not true. She was now functioning at 70% efficiency, hardly normal for her. For another, she did not know how she was feeling. Sorting out her emotions and feelings was the hardest part of being human, and she usually relied on the captain's guidance.

"Okay," she said now, relying on a familiar catch phrase she had heard others on Voyager use in similar circumstances.

"Good. I like your baseball cap."

Seven became aware that the Cubs cap was still resting on her head. Frowning, she took it off.

"It is not mine," she corrected. "It belongs to Kerry."

"Dr. Weaver."

"Yes."

"You're friends?"

Seven considered the question for a long moment then she gave an emphatic nod. "Yes, we are friends."

"It's good to have friends."

"Are you Kerry's friend as well?"

DeRaad looked surprised by her question. "I am a colleague. We work together sometimes in the hospital. I respect Dr. Weaver, but I don't think she'd call me a friend." Particularly not after he went along with Romano on Kim Legaspi's termination.

Seven worked with the crew on Voyager, so she knew exactly what Dr. DeRaad meant. Respect was not the same as affection. She sat with the cap on her knee, her fingers idly tracing the stitches in the middle C.

"Do you like baseball?"

She searched her edietic memory. Baseball, a sport played in the 21st century and still played in parts of the Alpha Quadrant in the 24th.

"It is an agreeable past time," she replied. "Do you enjoy it?"

"I'm a Cubs fan. You know what Cubs stands for, don't you?"

"Off spring of bears or lions or tigers?"

"Cubs. Completely useless by September." DeRaad grinned broadly.

"An odd designation for a sports team," Seven said.

The psychiatrist's smile faded. "Sorry, bad joke."

"Ah. Your joke was not bad. I am often lacking when it comes to a sense of humor."

"Who says so?"

"Colleagues."

"Really. What kind of work do you do?"

Seven knew she had to be cautious in her conversation with DeRaad. She had broken the Prime Directive with Kerry and Harry Nielsen, however that was only so that she could get back to her correct time. DeRaad could not furnish any assistance in that regard, so it was necessary that she pretend to be of the 21st century.

Last evening in the ER she'd overheard the desk clerk Randi speculating about her to others. Perhaps she could tell DeRaad that she was a desk clerk. Then again Randi had also assumed from her outfit that she was a fashion model.

"I am a fashion model."

DeRaad nodded, appearing unsurprised. The blonde woman was certainly striking and tall enough to walk down a fashion catwalk. He wondered why Weaver had been so insistent that he see her. But that was the ER chief all over, pushy as hell.

"You're working on a fashion shoot here in Chicago?"

"Yes."

"Good. For a magazine, I assume?"

Seven thought back to the magazine Randi had been reading. "Vogue."

"So, tell me about what you've been doing on this fashion shoot."

Seven searched her memory of the thousands of species she had assimilated as her years as a Borg drone. None had been a fashion model, but there had been some humans who had enjoyed holo imaging.

"I am given clothes to wear. Someone takes pictures of me in them. The work is not that difficult." She hoped that would satisfy him.

Since DeRaad was not a man of fashion sense, evidenced by his rumpled shirt and decades-old tie, he accepted this bare bones appraisal of Seven's work life.

"Does it pay well?"

"The pay is adequate for my needs."

"And your family? Do they like the work you do?"

"My parents are dead. I have no siblings."

"What about a boyfriend?"

Boyfriend? She knew men could be friends with women but so far she did not have any close friend who was male. Tuvok perhaps was the closest.

"Someone you are physically intimate with?" DeRaad went on.

Seven's optical implant climbed higher on her forehead.

"I am not intimate with any male." Tuvok was bonded to his wife, T'pal.

"Currently or ever?"

"I find your question irrelevant. Do you have a boyfriend?"

DeRaad dropped his pen. "No. I'm married. Happily married."

"Does being happily married preclude the possibility of your having a boyfriend?"

"No...but I don't," he said, flustered.

She cocked her head at him and eyed him with greater interest through her optical implant. "Why does speculating about a boyfriend make you uneasy?"

"It doesn't."

"Your respiration has increased and the capillaries in your face show a marked increase in blood flow."

"We've gotten a little off the track." DeRaad said, tugging his tie loose.

"What track would you like to be on?"

The psychiatrist returned to basics.

"Do you know what date it is?"

"It is July 19, 2002. A Friday."

"And where are you?"

"I am in your office in County General Hospital in Chicago Illinois. Do you wish me to tell you the current temperature?"

She certainly had the superior attitude of a supermodel.

"No, that's not necessary."
DeRaad looked over at the wall clock. Weaver owed him for this one, big time.

"This is Dr. Kerry Weaver, chief of Emergency Medicine at County General in Chicago, I'm calling in regard to the missing person's fax you sent out earlier today for an Annika Hansen.

**Oh my God, Kerry.** Kim gazed across the room at the captain who seemed riveted by the voice on the answering machine. They'd been cleaning up the lunch dishes when the phone rang. By the time Kim had dried her hands and found the phone under a carton in the bedroom, the machine had picked up.

"I saw Miss Hansen last night..."

Quickly, Kim clicked on the talk button on her cordless phone.

"Kerry?" Somehow she spluttered the name out.

Pacing in the small waiting area outside of DeRaad's office, Weaver stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the small grease spot on the wall. There was something hauntingly familiar in that voice.

"Yes, this is Kerry Weaver. Whom am I speaking with?"

"It's Kim. Kim Legaspi."

As if there were any other Kims that she knew? As though the whole world was filled with Kims put on the phone to plague her. Kim Legaspi. Was this a practical joke played on her by her ER staff?

"Kerry, are you still there?" Kim asked as the silence lengthened.

"Who is it? Does she know anything about Seven?" Janeway blurted out, standing at Kim's elbow. Only her Starfleet training kept her from grabbing the phone.

"Who's that with you?" Kerry demanded. If this was a joke that the whole ER was in on she would fire Randi so fast.

"It's someone concerned about the missing woman. Kerry, you're calling about the fax, right?"

"Of course. Why else?" Weaver snapped. "I didn't have your San Francisco number. Until now."

Kim flinched then counted to ten. **Stay professional, Legaspi. No need to rehash personal history.**

"No reason," she managed to say evenly. "So, uhm...What do you know about Ms. Hansen?"

"I treated her last night at the ER."

"Was she injured?"

At the mention of injury Janeway stiffened.

"Nothing serious. Just a minor scuffle on the El. She wasn't hurt but I took a quick look at her just the same."

"Do you know where she went? Is she still in Chicago?"

Kerry hesitated. She had a whole song and dance routine ready to elicit information from whomever was looking for Seven, however she hadn't expected Kim Legaspi to be on the other end of the line.

Instead of answering the questions, she countered with a couple of her own.

"How do you know Annika Hansen? Is she one of your patients?"

"Patient? No." Why would Kerry think she was a patient?

"Where is Seven?" Janeway asked quietly, speaking with deliberate patience. Weaver could hear the question, and she felt an odd foreboding even as Kim repeated the question into the phone.

"Seven didn't leave an address with the hospital," she said.

"Oh, so you don't know where she could have gone to?"

"Kim, if she's not a patient of yours, why exactly are you looking for her?"

"A friend of hers was searching for her. I suggested the national registry."

Friend? So far there was only one person that Seven had spoken of as a friend. And she was a five year old.

"What is the friend's name." Ten to one it wasn't Naomi Wildman.

"Kathryn Janeway."

Bingo. The captain herself.

Janeway had heard enough. "Does she know where Seven is or doesn't she?" She demanded, her voice laced with command.

"Hang on a sec, Kerry."

Kim turned her attention to the captain. "This call is from a doctor I used to work with. She treated Seven last night at the ER. Seven is fine. There were no real injuries."

"Good. Where is she now?"

"I'm trying to get to that. I'll get more out of her without any interruptions."

"All right," Janeway conceded grudgingly. "I want to talk to her when you're finished."

Kim walked a little further into the hallway away from Kathryn.

"Kerry, you still there?"

"Yeah. Tell me something, just how well do you know that woman Janeway?"

"What do you mean?" They were supposed to be talking about Seven not about Kathryn.

"Are you business acquaintances? Close friends? Neighbors?"

"What difference does that make? Her friend is missing. I'm helping her out."

"For starters she might not be Seven's friend."

"Annika Hansen is a member of her crew. Kathryn's a Navy captain."

"Really? You have proof of that?"

Kim didn't answer. Instead she gazed back into the bedroom where Janeway stood, watching her. The force behind the Look was palpable.

"Did you check her ID?" Weaver went on.

"Uh. She didn't have one."

"You called up the nearest Navy base and asked about her, right?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't explain right now."

"You need to be careful of that woman."

"Hey, I'm a big girl, Kerry."

"This isn't about that! I don't care who you sleep with," Weaver blurted out then wished she'd bitten her tongue. She did care. Too damn much. "Just listen. Seven has been subjected to medical experimentation."

"What?"

"She has metallic implants imbedded in her body. I think your pal the captain knows about them and participated in the mutilation herself."

"That's preposterous." Kim was appalled.

"How well do you know her? How long have you known her?"

"Not that long."

Kerry felt an inward stab, remembering the same phrase used a year ago about Lori.

"A month?"

"I met her last night." Kerry had no right to make her feel guilty.

"Where?"

"At a nightclub."

"A club? You mean a bar."

"Yes, not that it's any of your business, Dr. Weaver."

"Point taken. She came home with you?"

"Yes."

Kerry felt another stab and a twist for good measure.

Kim had wandered back to the dining area. She sat down at the table. Her fingers dabbed at the wet spot the iced tea pitcher had made on glass top.

"She was looking for her friend. I was trying to help. Anyway, how long have you known Seven?"

"I met her last night in the ER where she came for help."

"You took her home, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Is that standard ER procedure?" she needled.

"No, it's not. I made an exception. Seven is special."

Kim felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She remembered the sketch of the beautiful blonde. Kerry did not take people home from the ER every day or night.

"I'm sure Kathryn and Seven can explain everything to us when they reunite."

"No, I don't want that woman coming here looking for Seven."

"Why not?"

"Seven is not well."

"Yes, Kathryn told me."

"She did? What did she say?" Kerry demanded.

"Just that her friend had a medical condition and needed to be found quickly."

"What kind of medical condition?" the ER chief zeroed in.

"She didn't say."

"Oh for heaven's sake. And you call yourself a doctor? Find out. Damn it!"

"Damn you, Kerry! Don't you talk to me like I'm one of your first year ER residents!" Shit. Five minutes talking to Weaver and she'd lost it.

Kerry took a breath, realizing that DeRaad's clerk was looking at her oddly.

She lowered her voice and sat down in a chair. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that anything you tell me about Seven would be helpful. Carl DeRaad is seeing her right now."

"Carl? Why?"

"Seven is delusional."

"What kind of delusions? Religious?"

"She thinks she's something called a Borg from the 24th century. Probably because of all that medical experimentation by her good friend, the captain. Janeway and some nameless doctor probably hypnotized her."

"24th century?"

"Yeah. Janeway is supposed to be some kind of starship captain. Does she look 24th century to you?"

Kathryn had come down the hall and was pacing in the living room.

"No, she doesn't."

Just then the door to DeRaad's office opened, and Seven emerged with Carl.

"I have to go," Kerry said into the phone.

"Kerry, wait."

"Yes?" Kerry licked her lips. She'd been waiting for this moment for over a year. What would Kim say? What did she want her to say?

Kim hesitated. She wanted to ask how Kerry was. How she was feeling. Did she have any feelings left for her?

"Uhm...Kathryn wanted to talk to you." **Pathetic, Legaspi. Just plain pathetic.**

"Well, I don't want to talk to Kathryn," Kerry's voice sharpened.

"Kerry?" Carl gestured, wanting a private word with her.

"Carl just finished his session with Seven. I really have to go."

"Seven's with you?" Kim asked.

"She's with me and she's safe. I'll call you later, Kim. Just be careful of that woman."

REDHEAD/BLONDE

DeRaad was out of his mind. **Nothing delusional about Annika Hansen. A bit narcissistic but then she's a fashion model. Goes with the territory. Oh brother.** Kerry shot a quick glance at Seven as they rode the elevator to the top of County General's parking structure.

"A fashion model? You told Carl DeRaad you were a model?"

Seven's pale cheeks reddened slightly. "I deemed it necessary to tell him a lie."

They got off the elevator, and Weaver walked toward her Saturn, jabbing her crutch against the hot asphalt. "Explain yourself."

"I did not wish to break the Prime Directive again."

"Prime **what**?"

"The Prime Directive is the most important Federation rule when dealing with temporal disturbances. I should not have revealed my twenty fourth century origins to anyone here. I already did so twice, once to you and again to Professor Nielsen. I did not think your knowing would affect life hereafter. Mr. Nielsen may be another matter." Her brows pinched together in a tiny frown.

"So for the record you are still Annika Hansen, Borg from Outer Space?"

"Ex-Borg and the term outer space is imprecise."

Kerry got into the Saturn and slammed the door. Her head ached almost as much as her hip.

"I am sorry if my meeting with Dr. DeRaad displeased you," a soft voice said.

Kerry glanced to her right. Seven had placed the baseball cap on the dashboard.

"It's okay. I just expected something different. Some clue as to what's going on."

"I have told you what is going on. I have told you the truth."

Weaver devoutly hoped not since Seven had told her she would die in the next two days if she didn't get back to her century.

"How are you feeling?" Kerry asked now.

"I am functioning at 70% efficiency," came the answer. "I will need nutritional supplements soon."

"Hungry? I should do my grocery shopping before we head home."

"Perhaps more of the little red fruit?" Seven suggested.

"Strawberries, yeah. Definitely."

Ten minutes later, Kerry was stowing her crutch into a shopping cart and pushing it around Jewel's, followed by a wide-eyed Seven.

"Just tell me what you want to eat," she said, making a right turn into the produce department.

"I don't know." Seven did not consume much solid food on board Voyager, where the crew was prone to debate the quality of Neelix's cooking, one faction insisting that he used to much leota root in everything from stew to bread and another saying that the Talaxian lacked taste buds.

Kerry put two big baskets of strawberries into her wagon while Seven picked up an orange and sniffed it tentatively.

"This fruit smells acidic."

"Try this one," Kerry said, handing her a lemon.

Seven smelled the yellow oval-shaped fruit and drew back, her Borg-enhanced olfactory system on overload.

"That is powerful as well." Her eyes began to sting.

"All citrus fruit is acidic," Kerry said. "Why don't you try the peaches." She pointed to a display of orange and yellow fruit. "They have a more subtle aroma. And they're ripe and delicious this time of year."

Seven obligingly picked up a peach. It had a fuzzy coating and when she held it up her nose a sweet scent filled her nostrils. Not harsh and tangy the way the lemon had.

"I like this," she said.

"Good." Weaver picked out a half dozen peaches and placed them in a plastic bag. She had already loaded up on lettuce and salad things. She snagged a bunch of red grapes as she moved over to the dairy section.

"I'll need more eggs."

"For omelets," Seven said.

Kerry nodded and picked up two dozen, one for her and one for Harry Nielsen since they had used the last of the professor's eggs in Evanston. She stocked up on cheese and a gallon of milk. On another aisle she picked up two loaves of artisan bread then went into the meat and fish departments.

Seven wandered after Kerry, gawking at the mixture of foods and items offered for sale. Neelix would have been busy sampling the different items, but from what Kerry said, eating food without paying for it first was not a Terran tradition. She watched as the wagon eventually was piled high with a variety of food stuffs.

"Is this the children's section?" Seven asked as they walked down an aisle that seemed populated with children. Naomi would have loved it here as the children played a game by grabbing and throwing items into the carts that their parents were pushing.

"Snack section."

"Ah yes. Nutritional supplements that are taken between meals."

Kerry grimaced. "Actually not that nutritional judging by the sugar content in some of these things."

"I have seen the captain consume a late night snack in her quarters."

"You visit the captain in her quarters late at night?" Kerry lifted an eyebrow at the lanky blonde.

"The captain and I often hold philosophical discussions then."

"I just bet."

"Why would you wish to wager on our philosophical discussions?" Seven inquired.

Kerry snorted. "Never mind." She made Seven reach for the boxes of apple juice, threw in a bag of popcorn then continued down the aisle.

"What are you searching for?"

"Caramels...oh...there they are." Kerry grabbed the bag of caramels and turned them over to find the recipe for brownies.

Seven peered over her shoulder. "Caramel brownies, like the captain's mother used to make?"

"Probably not the same thing," Kerry warned. "I'll give it a try this afternoon."

Seven would rather have been consulting with Professor Nielsen on his progress with her time travel, however she deemed the matter of caramel brownies worth some attention as well.

After going through the check out, where Seven once again witnessed the behavioral problems of humanoid children, she pushed the cart toward the Saturn. Naomi Wildman seemed markedly different from these children. Was it the difference in centuries, or perhaps Naomi's half-Katarian genes.

Weaver opened the trunk and Seven loaded the groceries inside. Before she closed the door Weaver handed Seven a peach to sample.

"Here, this will be a nutritious snack until we get home."

Seven sniffed the fruit again. "I like how it smells," she explained, then she took a tentative bite. As her teeth sank into the soft pulp, her taste buds exploded with the sweet sensation.

"Very acceptable," she murmured, consuming the rest of the fruit with short quick bites that left her hands dripping with juice. "Do you eat this as well..." she mumbled over the pit in her mouth.

"No. That's the seed. You don't eat that," Kerry said quickly, holding her hand out for the pit. She popped open a box of apple juice and gave it to Seven along with a hand wipe. "I just have one more stop then we'll go home."

That was the third time she had used to term home, Seven thought as she sipped on the apple juice while Kerry wheeled out of the parking lot. Since a drone was sent to many different places and she had only dim recollections of Raven and her parents, Voyager was the closest thing to a home for her.

When Kerry spoke of home it was of her domicile where she slept. Seven had only her brief portion of Cargo Bay Two where she regenerated. Other crew members had their own quarters, but she did not. Perhaps, when she returned to Voyager she would ask Captain Janeway if she could partition off the part of Cargo Bay Two that she used.

She became aware of the redhead's humming to another song on her CD track. Something called Norwegian Wood. It was a lively piece and Seven felt glad it was not from the miserables that Kerry had sung sadly to earlier this morning.

She had been thinking of someone named Kim back then. And Seven remembered now that Kerry had been speaking on the phone to a Kim when she had emerged from her interview with DeRaad. Was it the same woman?

"Like that song?" Kerry asked now.

"It is quite pleasant. The stringed instrument in the background is quite unusual."

"That's the sitar, an Indian instrument. This was a classic Beatles song."

"Indeed," Seven said politely and continued quickly before Kerry could continue her lesson on musicology. "At the hospital you were talking to your friend."

"You mean DeRaad?" Weaver asked, distracted by the blue van that was tailgating her. "Get off my butt, wise guy."

Seven wondered how it was possible for anyone wise or ignorant to be on Kerry's posterior except herself.

"Not Dr. DeRaad. Kim. The friend you miss. Is she coming back?"

Kerry directed a quelling look at her passenger. How much of her conversation had she overheard? "I don't know."

"Why did she call you?"

"I called her actually."

"Because you missed her?"

Kerry's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "No. To check on something."

"You love her."

"What?"

"You love her," the blonde repeated.

Kerry flushed. How did Seven know? "Whether I do or don't that's none of your business."

"You do," the Borg said emphatically.

"And how would you know that?"

"The way your eyes grow sad when you talk of her, the timbre in your voice---"

"Let's drop this topic," Kerry said, her voice holding a note of warning that the blonde recognized. She had heard it in the ER last night as the others scattered to do their jobs. The tone was similar to Janeway's take no prisoners tone that Lt. Paris often joked about in the mess hall.

"As you wish," she said evenly, even though she was curious to explore this thing called love. A few times she had made the attempt to observe others in love on Voyager. She had even gone on a date under the doctor's tutelage. It had not been successful. Love was a human emotion, maybe the defining human emotion, according to Captain Janeway and Seven was curious to explore it in herself. It was unfortunate that Kerry did not wish to speak about it.

Ten minutes later the two women walked into the Target store. Weaver led the blonde immediately to the women's section and began handing her clothes to try on.

"Why do I need more clothing?" she protested. Her biometric outfit was functioning adequately.

"You can't wear that outfit all the time," Kerry explained, giving her a push toward the dressing room. "I'll wait outside."

Frowning the Borg went to one of the stalls and pulled the release on the back of her biometric outfit. The brown mesh garment fell at once to her feet. She pulled on the white cotton top and then stepped into the blue denims that Kerry had selected.

She buttoned her top and emerged for Kerry's scrutiny.

Weaver took one look at the breasts visible through the white gauze and left for the underwear department. She brought a bra back to Seven and explained how the undergarment was used, instructions that the blonde accepted skeptically.

"Must I always wear this harness?"

"It's a bra, not a harness. And you don't always need to wear it. It just depends on what's appropriate for the clothes."

"I would make some people uncomfortable if I did not wear it?" Seven asked.

"Yeah....if you wore that gauzy white top without it."

"Very well."

In addition to the gauzy top, Seven tried on a blue oxford shirt and a floral print blouse. The blue jeans fit perfectly, as did the crisp black Dockers. Kerry made another run and found a pink nightshirt for Seven to sleep in, then a final stop in the shoe department where she picked up a pair of canvas deck shoes.

"You have to be tired of those heels."

"The Doctor routed some of the controls of my implants into my shoes originally. I have grown used to them."

"Those heels will kill your feet."

"Explain."

"They are bad for your feet. Don't your legs feel tired at the end of the day?"

"Borg do not tire." Nevertheless, she held up the canvas shoes. "You believe these are better for me?"

"Trust me. Yes, they are." At the cashier Kerry pulled out her credit card.

"You are paying for all this?"

"Charging for now. I'll pay when the bill comes next month."

"Unfortunate. I have no way of recompensing you."

Weaver patted her hand. "It's okay. What's the point of working like a dog if I can't buy a few nice things for a friend."

Seven felt pleased that Kerry considered her a friend.

"We are friends. I told Dr. DeRaad so."

"Did you? Good." Weaver flashed a shy smile as she scrawled her name on the credit slip.

Seven picked up the bag holding the clothing and toted it over her shoulder as she walked, for all the world like a willowy blonde Santa.

"Are we going home now?" she asked when they came to Kerry's car.

"Yes. I think we've done enough for the American economy for one day."

"My work with Professor Nielsen is not finished," Seven pointed out as they got into the Saturn.

"We can see him tomorrow morning." Kerry started the ignition.

"I need to confer with him today."

Before they left Evanston Nielsen was in the middle of something called a brainstorm. Seven was curious to see if the storm had ended.

"You can call him on the phone and speak to him that way," Weaver said. "Seeing him in person would be more efficient, so we can discuss my return while I still can."

"Still can what?"

"Speak. I am losing function at 5% for every three hours that passes. By tomorrow morning, I may not be functioning well enough to for my vocal cords to work."

Kerry kept her own vocal cords under control. "I'll get Nielsen to come over to my place as soon as he can. He'll have to buck the rush hour."

"That would be acceptable."

"Meanwhile, is there anything I can do for you, Seven? To prevent this loss of function?" Kerry asked, worried about the other woman.

"I do not believe so."

"Would the captain know what to do for you?" Kerry asked.

Seven smiled. "Captain Janeway **always** knows what to do."

"If Seven is in Chicago, I'll need to head there," Kathryn said as soon as Kim got off the line with Kerry.

"Well, Kerry doesn't know where Seven is exactly," Kim stalled, Kerry's warning still ringing in her ears. Mutilation. Medical experimentation. She would have called it crazy if she didn't know Kerry Weaver. The ER chief had been absolutely adamant about what Annika Hansen's body had been subjected to.

**And just how did she happen to see Annika's body?**

Kim pushed the teasing voice aside. Kerry was a doctor. So was Kim, and she should have questioned Kathryn about her missing friend's medical condition.

"I have to find Seven as soon as possible." Kathryn strode into the living room and shrugged on her vest.

"Yes, she has that medical condition."

"That's right," Kathryn said sharply. Something was different in Kim's voice. It was still pleasant, but there was an undercurrent to her words.

"Just what is this medical condition?" Kim asked.

"Sorry, that's confidential."

"Is it a mental illness?"

"You're thinking like a psychiatrist," Janeway said. The corners of her lips lifted in a smile that Kim found a tad patronizing.

"Actually Kerry's a specialist in emergency medicine and even she said how Seven seemed delusional. Could that be the confidential condition?"

"Delusional? How?" Kathryn asked, feeling her way carefully in this conversation.

"She calls herself a Borg from the twenty-fourth century. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No." Kathryn kept her voice calm as she absorbed this information. If the Chicago woman knew about Seven's Borg background, there was no telling how many others knew. The whole situation could blow up in Seven's face. She could be dragged away and subjected to hideous examinations in the name of science. Kathryn knew the young woman's greatest fear about returning with Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant was that eager Starfleet scientists would hold her permanently for tests because she had been Borg.

Janeway was not about to let that happen to her in any century. She had to get to Chicago.

"Your friend also has been subjected to medical experimentation. Kerry thinks you authorized it."

"Good God, is she mad?" How dared this Weaver think such a thing.

"So Seven doesn't have metallic implants on her body?"

The captain inhaled a long slow breath. "She has a condition. It's nothing I or anyone in my command has done. If you'll just give me Kerry's address, I'll be on my way."

"You need a lift to the base?"

"Base?"

"I presume that you'd take a military flight out to Chicago. Since you're all covert and everything."

She recognized the skepticism in the blue eyes. "Kim, I don't have time to waste explaining myself to you. Just give me the address, please." Kathryn Janeway did not utter please very often. And when she did she was used to the other person capitulating. She had no such luck with Kim Legaspi.

No way was Kim giving this woman Kerry's address. She hated to admit that Kerry was right about one thing. She had accepted everything Kathryn had said at face value. Well, that was going to stop right now.

"I don't have her address."

Kathryn stared into the blue eyes that now held a glint of steel. She had overheard enough of the phone conversation to deduce the psychiatrist's relationship with Kerry was a close one. Close enough to exchange angry words with.

"You're friends and you don't have her address?" Kathryn continued the diplomatic approach with a smile.

"We were just friendly co-workers."

"You sounded more than that to me."

Kim arched an eyebrow. What had Kathryn overheard?

"We may have been close once. We're not any more."

"You were lovers." A statement, not a question.

**Whoa, where did that come from?**

Kathryn was as surprised by the question as Kim whose stare hardened into flint.

"It's none of your damn business."

"Fair enough," Janeway said, even though her stomach twisted at the idea of Seven with Kim's ex-lover. Her astrometrics officer was a beautiful young woman. Weaver wouldn't try anything, would she? She grew alarmed at the idea and even more alarmed at a distinct twinge of jealousy.

Kathryn gnawed on her lower lip. She was beginning to dislike Kerry Weaver and it had nothing to do with the woman once being sexually involved with Kim Legaspi. Even though that thought brought another twinge. Of envy this time. Not a surprise. Kim was a beautiful lesbian and probably had had many lovers.

And one of them just happened to be with Seven.

"Your non-friend's address in Chicago. Give it to me," she barked, dropping the diplomatic approach.

"I don't remember it."

"You had an intimate relationship and you don't know her address?"

"Well, we usually slept over at my place," Kim said with a smirk. She knew Kerry's address all right, but she wasn't going to part with it willingly.

Kathryn pulled out her phaser. She needed the address to find Seven.

"Don't make me use this."

"The phaser thingie."

It didn't look so cute any more, particularly when it was pointed in her direction. Kim recalled how Kathryn had fired at one of the muggers in the alley, and how nervous Kathryn had been when Kim had grabbed it earlier this morning.

"Is that from the 24th century?"

"Just current 21st century technology," Kathryn said. "It's quite lethal, however. So tell me where your former lover lives or I'll use it."

"I'm not telling you where Kerry lives."

"You're very beautiful, Kim. Phaser burns are not beautiful."

Kim flinched. "Go to hell."

"I won't hurt her. I promise. I just need to find Seven."

"Sorry, I don't believe you."

"I don't have time to argue with you. Tell me where Kerry lives right now or I'll shoot."

Kim lifted her chin. "Then shoot, because I'm not telling you a damn thing."

With a feeling of regret Kathryn aimed the phaser at Kim and fired. Kim's blue eyes widened in shock and disbelief for a brief second then as the fiery beam hit her chest wall she collapsed on her living room floor.
 

BLONDE

Seven tilted her head slightly as she examined the hydro shower with her optical implant.

"Do you want me to show you how to use it?" Kerry asked, stepping toward the stall. She reached up and pulled the hand held shower free then turned on the water, her back to Seven. "You just click this button and it goes off. Then you can soap yourself. I'll get you a washcloth and towel." She went over to the closet and placed the larger towel on the sink and turned to hand the washcloth to Seven.

The Borg was standing nude in front of her, the biometric outfit at her feet. Seven bent down and picked it up, her creamy breasts swaying with her smooth movement.

"Here is my garment."

Weaver's mouth dropped open. "So I see..." She could also see a lot more, like the glint of silvery implants on the blonde's right bicep and lower back and the mesh that covered part of one thigh. The thin thatch of hair between two impossibly long legs confirmed that the young woman was a natural blonde.

Aware that she was gaping at Seven, she took the brown unitard. "I'll put this in the laundry. You go ahead and step into the stall."

"It would be more efficient if you showered with me," came the reply.

"What?"

"I could soap myself more efficiently with two hands."

"Oh. Well, then I'd get wet too..." **And how.**

"I believe it's common to bathe with a companion in some cultures?"

"Yes. The Japanese do it. And I guess people hot tub it."

But there was no way in hell she was going to strip down and get naked with that beautiful young woman in the close confines of the shower stall.

"Kerry, are you all right?" Seven asked.

"I'm fine," Kerry squeaked before Seven started to catalog her respiration rate or increase in blood pressure. "I'm going to put in a load of wash. Here's some shampoo." She scooped up a bottle from the counter and handed it to the young woman.

"It smells like peaches." Seven smiled.

"Yeah, you go and shower now, okay?"

"That would be acceptable."

Seven stepped into the shower stall and took the hand held instrument in her left hand. Having it positioned thusly enabled her to direct the burst of water to her implants with more precision. The feel of the warm water against her skin was pleasant and she slid the wash cloth against her arms and legs, her skin tingling as she worked the rough cloth over her body.

She had seen Samantha Wildman bathe her daughter Naomi on several occasions. Lt. Paris and B'Elanna Torres often teased each other about being frisky in the shower together. It would seem that having a companion to shower with was a desirable thing. Why did Kerry not wish it? She would have to ask the captain about it.

The captain. For a moment Seven's spirits faltered. So far there had been no word from anyone on Voyager. Was it possible that no one was trying to find her? A few minutes later Seven stepped out of the shower stall and dried herself with the towel Kerry had left on the sink. Weaver had suggested an afternoon shower to refresh her, and while the young woman had complied, she did not feel refreshed. Her skin felt warm and moist and the ends of her damp hair irritated the back of her neck and shoulders. All most inefficient compared to the sonic showers on board Voyager. Although the high-pitched whine annoyed some crew members, Seven found the sonic shower superior at getting her implants clean in a minimum of time.

She hung the damp towel on a rack and walked nude down the hall to the guest room. Kerry had taken her discarded biometric outfit to wash and laid out her new clothes on the bed. After less than a second's thought Seven chose the blue oxford shirt and blue jeans to wear. She did not want to wear the gauze shirt since that would mean donning the harness. Bra, she corrected herself as she peered at her two breasts in the mirror. Were only women of a certain size expected to wear this undergarment? She did not recall Kerry utilizing one. As she dressed, Seven's eidetic memory replayed her encounters with the redhead, bringing to mind Kerry's small, nicely rounded pair. For some reason Seven kept wondering how they might feel under her palm. **Soft, very soft in all likelihood.**

Annoyed, the blonde shook her head and instructed her cortical node to run a diagnostic. At a time when she ought to be contemplating the time travel problem facing her, she was fascinated with the matter of Weaver's breasts. This malfunction was an obvious sign that her efficiency level was dropping.

Completely dressed now, Seven went down the stairs to the kitchen.

"The caramel brownies?" she guessed out loud as she sniffed the delicious aroma permeating the room.

Kerry smiled contentedly from the counter where she was sprinkling dill on a large salmon filet. An apron was tied around her waist.

"One batch in the oven and the other batch on the table." She indicated the plate of brownies. "They came out pretty well. Help yourself."

"Before dinner?"

"It's a snack. I'll get you some milk."

Kerry grabbed the carton of milk from the refrigerator while Seven picked up a small square. She chewed, enjoying the sweet stickiness. She did not enjoy the caramel stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"This is good, however it is difficult to speak."

Weaver grinned and poured out a glass of milk. "This'll help it go down."

The Borg drank half the glass in one gulp.

"Do you feel better after the shower?" Kerry asked, biting into a brownie.

"I feel wetter."

Kerry choked. **Wetter.** Now that was a word she didn't want to use with regard to Seven. In her blue shirt and jeans with her canvas shoes replacing her killer high heels, she looked adorable.

"What time will Professor Nielsen get here?" Seven asked.

"He called to stay he's stuck in traffic. He should make it here by dinner time."

"I shall spend the time reviewing the matter of the polaric wave formation he told us about in that email message to you."

"You know where my computer is."

As Seven headed into the study, carrying her milk and half-eaten brownie, Kerry went down a small flight of stairs to her laundry room where the washer had come to a stop. Quickly, she unloaded the clothes and placed them into the dryer, smoothing out the brown unitard before she tossed it in. Was it really an environmentally controlled biometric outfit?

She sure hoped that Nielsen would be able to help Seven this evening. The Borg had been insistent that they meet tonight to thrash out whatever points needed to be made. In case tomorrow morning she was not able to function.

The dryer began a spin cycle. Seven spoke so matter-of-factly about her implants and how they were bound to go hay wire tomorrow. And after that happened she would eventually die.

Worried, Kerry felt tempted to call Kim. Maybe her pal, Janeway, knew how to stabilize Seven before her condition worsened.

Kathryn ran her tricorder over the lanky blonde lying on the living room floor. Vitals were good. She felt a surge of relief and guilt as she noticed the phaser burn on the front of the green knit shirt. She'd set the phaser on stun, not expecting to have to use it on the other woman. But Kim had surprised her. There had to be more to her relationship with the Weaver woman than she had admitted.

The captain grabbed the dermal regenerator and lifted the polo shirt up, scowling in dismay at the livid scorch marks on Kim's flesh. Quickly she ran the instrument over the area, and as she worked the skin healed, regaining its normal pink color. She smoothed the polo shirt back down, unable to do much for the black burn mark in the fabric.

Kim probably would not regain consciousness for another half hour. Enough time for Kathryn to search the house for Kerry Weaver's address. In the bedroom she went over to Kim's desk, opening the drawers in quick succession and found an address book. She thumbed through the pages to the Ws, wincing when she saw that the page had been ripped out.

Difficult breakup? Nothing else of interest here, just an assortment of tax folders and stamps and envelopes. She came up with Kim's resume and an address for the County General Hospital where she had last worked and where presumably Kerry still worked, but nothing with the home address.

Just as she was about to go back into the living room Kathryn noticed the carton of odds and ends that Kim had been going through earlier. Curious, she began digging through it. Loose photographs, cards, correspondence and a few letters. She skimmed through them, glancing at the signatures before discarding them. Then she picked up one small sheet that had been folded over innumerable times.

Dear Kim,
I'm sorry.
For everything.
Please forgive me.
I love you so much,
Kerry

Kathryn frowned at the six short lines. Why was Kerry asking for forgiveness? Was it a simple lover's spat? It had to be more than that since the two women were no longer together. Had she cheated on the blonde? If so, she had to be the stupidest woman in the Alpha Quadrant. The captain blew out an exasperated breath. She didn't have time to sort out Kim's love life. She was trying to find Kerry's address and judging by the scrawl in the corner of the envelope that held the letter she just found it.

Suddenly the phone rang from the front of the house. The answering machine clicked on.

"Kim? It's Kerry. If you're home, please pick up."

Kerry? Kathryn dashed down the hall and spotted the phone on the dining table.

"Okay, I guess you're out."

Janeway grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

Standing in her laundry room, Kerry stiffened. Even with the dryer going at full blast that just didn't sound like Kim's voice. "Hello. Who's this?" she demanded.

"This is a friend of Kim's." Kathryn composed herself. Time to turn on the charm.

"Where is she? I want to speak to Kim."

Nothing shy about this woman, Kathryn thought.

"She's not available. Is this Dr. Weaver?"

Unconsciously Kerry placed one hand down on the top of the dryer. The vibrations mimicked her own nervousness.

"It is. And you're___?"

"Captain Kathryn Janeway."

Seven's captain. Kerry fought the irrational urge to salute.

"I believe Kim mentioned I'm searching for my friend Seven of Nine."

Of Nine? Yes, that had been the name Seven had given originally. Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct something something...

"You mean Annika Hansen?" Kerry asked, feeling uncertain about the woman she was talking to. Had she done anything to Kim?

"Yes, Annika Hansen," Kathryn replied eagerly. "Is she with you?"

"Where's Kim?" Kerry sidestepped the question for a moment. She still didn't trust Janeway and would feel better talking to Kim. "Let me speak to Kim."

"I'm sorry. She's not available."

**Wasn't that convenient?** "Okay, have her call me when she is."

"Dr. Weaver, if Seven is there I insist that you let me speak to her." Kathryn said, abandoning the charm, her command voice coming through loud and clear.

"I'm sorry. Seven is not available," Kerry said, politely.

"Not available for what?" a voice inquired.

Seven stood at the top of the laundry room stairs, frowning at Kerry. She had become alarmed when she had returned the empty glass of milk to the kitchen and found Kerry missing. The door to the laundry area was open so she had entered and overheard Kerry on the phone again. From her unhappy tone of voice Seven had assumed she was talking to that friend Kim again. Then she heard her own name mentioned.

"Kerry?" she asked, now standing next to the redheaded doctor.

Kathryn strained her ears, trying to make out the other voice in the background.

Seven, is that you?" she shouted into the phone, hoping that the Borg-enhanced hearing was still operational.

Seven's pale azure eyes turned frosty as she stared at Weaver.

"That is the captain. You are speaking to Captain Janeway."

"Seven, please go back upstairs," Kerry said.

"I will speak to the captain," Seven said, and stretched her left hand out imperiously for the phone.

Kerry hung on, not about to relinquish it. For a second there was an impasse then Seven's much stronger hand ripped the phone from Kerry's grasp. With the other hand she pushed Weaver aside. Although she used only one-fourth of her Borg strength, Kerry was caught leaning the wrong way on her crutch and she fell back onto the floor. Her head hit the side of the dryer.

"Seven, are you there?" Janeway asked, hearing the sound of a scuffle on the other end.

"One moment, Captain," Seven said, as she tried to help Kerry back to a standing position. Angry, Kerry tried to push Seven out of her way. Her hand hit the Borg's abdominal implant and the attempt failed. The woman was unmovable.

"Let me assist you," Seven said.

"I don't need your assistance," Weaver said, her tone clipped and furious. With what dignity she had left she managed to make her way to the stairs and slowly began to climb them, wincing as pain shot up her bad leg with every movement.

Feeling remorseful at the sight of the redhead in pain, Seven once again scooped her up in her arms and carried her up the stairs, depositing her in the kitchen.

"Let me go! Don't you ever do that again!" Weaver yelled, banging her fists on Seven's back.

"What's going on?" Janeway demanded. "Seven, are you there?"

"I am here, Captain." Seven spoke into the phone as Weaver crutched away.

"What happened?"

"I wished to speak to you, and Kerry got in the way. I may have damaged her."

"Seven!" Janeway exclaimed, knowing the full strength of her astrometrics officer. The Borg had once taken down four heavily armed Hirogen intruders. "How badly?"

"Not so badly but it is bad enough," Seven said sadly. Her eyes were still fixed on the small woman who was making her way toward the living room couch. She had not meant to harm Kerry who was her friend and had been so kind.

"Seven, listen to me. Code indigo. Do you remember what that means."

The Borg stiffened, offended. Had she not sat in on many high level staff meetings? "Yes, Captain. I am also familiar with code vermillion and code lavender."

"You will proceed with code indigo until I arrive."

"Voyager is here? Are transporters on line?" Seven asked quickly.

"No, the ship is not here. I am alone." Kathryn was beginning to regret coming solo on this away mission. Maybe Chakotay had had a point with his objections earlier.

"Lt. Paris?"

"He's back on the ship. He didn't experience the time shift you did."

"That is fortunate." Seven leaned against the dryer that was still tumbling the clothes. She found the vibrations soothing. "When will you arrive, Captain?"

"As soon as I can arrange a flight. I have the address where you are in Chicago. I'm coming to get you. You'll be all right."

"By the time you arrive, I will not be operating at minimum efficiency."

"You hang on, Seven. That's an order."

"I do not always obey your orders," the Borg reminded her.

"So, I recall," Kathryn said dryly. "But you will comply."

"I will be happy to see you, Captain."

"Me too." Kathryn hung up, with a much lighter heart. At least she knew that Seven was alive and in Chicago. Smiling, she turned and realized that Kim had been conscious during the phone conversation.

"Hi there," she said, knowing it was undoubtedly the stupidest thing to say to the woman sitting on the floor.

"You shot me." Kim's voice was flat and hard.

"The phaser was on stun actually."

"Lucky me." Kim brushed aside the hand Kathryn extended and got onto the couch by herself.

"How do you feel?"

"Like hell, thanks to you."

"I'm sorry. I needed your friend's address and I knew you wouldn't give it up."

Kim recognized the envelope still in Kathryn's hands. "So you read my personal correspondence?"

Kathryn put the letter down on the table. "I have to find my friend. Believe me, I won't hurt yours."

"Why don't I believe you. Oh, I know. Because you just shot me," Kim mocked.

Kathryn shrugged. "I won't argue with you any more. I have to catch a flight to Chicago."

"Good luck. You'll need it, trying to fly out of here like that."

Kathryn paused. "Like what?"

No luggage. That'll be a red flag for security. And you'll need an ID."

"I have one. Two actually."

"Well then, how do you plan to pay?"

"Cash."

"One way ticket?"

"Yes, why are you laughing?."

"Because you'll be lucky getting through the first round of security. And as for the second round." Kim shook her head. "Do you plan to take your high tech gadgets on board?"

"Why not?"

"You won't make it to Chicago like that."

"You have a better plan?"

"Maybe."