Rating: R for Angst

Summary: Takes place right after Dark Frontier. Being back with the Borg Collective affects Seven more than she expected. Will Janeway be there for her when she needs her most?

It was the last thing Seven heard before her regeneration cycle started. And with the cycle started her dream.

Dreams, she had more often, lately. And in those dreams she learned to appreciate the silence. It had been as if the dreams were extentions of her real life. She found out that the silence didn't bother her anymore.

This dream, however, was completely different. Immediately she was back in Unimatrix 01. The Borg queen was standing before her, ordering her to go and watch the assimilation process. Seeing her hesitation, the... woman... decided not to push her. But on the way Seven bumped into a man who was trying to escape... and she stopped him.

She broke off her regeneration cycle. Or it broke off her dream..

Sweat was streaming down her back, her hair was sticking to face. Her breathing threatened to slip into hyperventilation.

I must get control over myself. I can do this. I am Borg. But then she realized that she wasn't and didn't want to be. Never again. And that, in this situation, she did not have control. During the time she was back with the Borg, she somehow managed to keep her emotions at bay. Why, she wasn't sure. Perhaps to impress the queen, to show her that even when she was human, she had control. And the queen believed it, of that she was sure. Somehow Seven had been able to keep certain things secret from the Borg, even when they had reastablished their link with her.

And after that, she wanted to show the Captain, and the rest of Voyagers crew, that she was, well, worthy of going through so much trouble for. So she had shut off her feelings as much as possible. But the shame and the fear were there. What she hadn't felt when she was a Borg, she felt all the better now: that every time a being was 'added to our distinctiveness' she had taken away an individual.

And most of them would probably not be as lucky as she had been, and regain that individuality, which defined who she was. But was she lucky? In the beginning, she had certainly not felt that way. After a while things had changed though. She got used to the silence, and had slowly learned the strength of her own thoughts. She'd made friends, and it had seemed that the rest of the crew had finally accepted her a bit. And although she had come into contact with painfull emotions a lot, the happy ones were coming to her too.

She never realized until now that all those people that she turned into drones would never feel that again. Never feel the satisfaction of a job well done, the happy twinge when someone paid you a compliment. The appreciation of life, the beauty of nature, and of other people, the kindness of friends. Love...

And Seven felt so bad. All she wanted to do was make up for their lost individualities. Now she understood why B'Elanna had once said that the Borg killed species. For the Borg it had seemed enough of an excuse to say that they weren't lost, no, they gained the information of billions of others. But for a person turned into a drone, that was not much consolation. And neither for an ex-drone who was at that moment feeling quite human.

She couldn't handle this. Her breathing now totally out of control and tears gliding over her face, she sat shakingly in a corner of the cargo bay. It was just too big. I need to find some assistance, Seven thought. And then, immediately after that, No! I must not tell them a thing. I can do this by myself, as I can solve all problems. I do not need other people.

With that decision made, Seven went back to her alcove. And sobbed through her nightmares for the rest of her regeneration period.

As days went by, people started to notice some changes in Seven. As human as she had become since being severed from the collective, as Borgish she reacted now. And no one could come up with a logical explanation.

Everyone noticed it, but perhaps even more than the Captain, B'Elanna saw the mask behind which Seven was hiding for what it was. She knew the type of mask well enough to know that the pain hidden beneath it must be horrendous. That was why Lieutenant Torres decided to go talk with Seven. But this time not to argue, or to get angry, but to see if she could help.

Annika Hansen didn't look up as the doors swooshed open. The equations she was doing weren't easy and she needed to concentrate. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres (she of course recognized the sound of her footstep) could wait.

When Seven looked up, the first thing B'Elanna noticed were the circles around her eyes. Seven's skin was as white as always, but it didn't look creamy anymore. Her face was a tight mass even before Torres had spoken, and her eyes looked hunted.

"Seven?"

Annika Hansen felt all her muscles tighten. No. No Seven. Never Seven. No more!

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, lieutenant."

"No offense, Seven, but you look terrible. Have you checked with the Doctor?"

Not Seven of Nine, never again Seven of Nine

"I am functioning adequately. There's is nothing to worry about."

"Well, if you're sure..." B'Elanna hesitated. "I know we haven't been the best of friends, but I want you to know I'm there for you if there's anything you need to, you know, talk about."

Seven regarded her with a cold look. "There is nothing to worry about," she repeated. "I have to resume my duties."

And with that she turned back to her duty station and ignored B'Elanna's presence, inside cringing with pain and need for help.

If Annika had thought the worst feelings would have come in the first days, she'd highly underestimated it. As days, and weeks progressed, the nightmares started coming so frequently that her actual resting period in a night was brought down to perhaps two hours. Of the other six, she spent about three and a half in her alcove, the two and a half remaining ones mostly in a corner, overwhelmed by fear and pain.

There were nights she didn't even try to regenerate. Those she spent working, because her efficiency during her on-duty time was at an all time low, and she didn't want the Captain to notice the changes. At six o'clock, when her cycle was supposed to finish, she went to the mess hall, took a nutricional supplement, and then went to the astrometrics lab to 'start her work'. She'd have preferred never to finish, because finishing meant having to face free space.

The Doctor studied the latest results of Seven's medical exam. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite pinpoint as to what. Her adrenaline levels were a bit high, but well within acceptable parameters. Still, it didn't seem right. He could tell Seven was not regenerating long enough, but no matter what he told her she seemed to be unwilling to remedy that.

The Doctor saved the data in a padd and headed for the captain's ready room. After all, this was ultimately the Captain's responsibility.

With a sigh, Captain Janeway re-read the padd she'd gotten from the Doctor over two hours ago. She knew she had not been paying a lot of attention to Seven lately, and decided that she'd go talk to her tonight. If only I could act normally around her, Kathryn thought, but all I want to do is to show her how much I love her. And I just can't do that.

That was also the reason she took Tuvok's invitation to go over some new plans that evening. And Seven didn't hear a thing from Janeway.

That night Seven's fortune was at an all time low. Despite the fact that she was working instead of regenerating, the nightmares came. Fear gripped her. And because she was awake, she couldn't force herself out of it. The bay was well isolated, something for which she was very grateful right now. She wasn't able to keep from screaming. All those tiny seconds of fear people had experienced before adjusting to the collective mind were thrown into one right now. A moment long enough to last the lifetime of a sun.

Pain. She needed to hurt herself. To make herself pay for what she'd done to all those people. And to stop the mental hurt, which was driving her mad.

Her hands grabbed her hair and started pulling. It didn't work the way she hoped; the Doctor had done a job too well.

"Computer, one glass of water."

The water Annika threw away. Then she flung the glass to the wall, smashing it to pieces. She grabbed a piece, bared an upper arm and started cutting. The panic seemed to subside somewhat. She cut until she felt able to stop crying, then reached out for a dermal regenerator.

And because of her cover-all biosuit, no one even suspected that Annika hurt herself.

Captain Janeway stared at "her" former Borg as she was standing in her regeneration alcove. Normally she'd think about how beautiful Seven was, and how proud she was of her accomplishments. But not today. Seven's skin was so pale, it was almost translucent. Dark shadows under her eyes. "You have to do something, Kathryn." Janeway scolded herself. "Do something." Even B'Elanna had come to her to express her concerns about Seven.

"Captain Janeway to the bridge."

Kathryn sighed and hit her commbadge "On my way."

She watched Seven one more time before she turned on her heels. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would definitely talk with her.

She had barely left cargo bay two as Annika got forced abruptly out of her cycle. Running to the bathroom as fast as she could, she lurched over and threw all of her ingested nutricions of that day in the wastebasket, hurling with pain.

For a moment, it had felt as if she wasn't alone. But waking up she had realized that it must have been her mind playing tricks on her. She was alone. Would be alone. And perhaps she didn't want it any other way. She couldn't bear the thought of having to live up to other people's expectations. Especially those of the Captain. They wanted too much, too much of her that she could no longer give.

I am insufficient, Annika thought, I cannot give the Captain what she needs, the simple tasks I am given I can't complete efficiently. That thought hurt her so much that her stomach lurched again. She bent over, but since her 'meal' was out already, Annika coughed up only acids. And somehow it felt good to get it all out of her. As if she threw up all the hurt and shame along with the nutritional supplements. So she threw up over and over, not noticing that the stuff coming out of her mouth had turned from yellowish to red.

The next morning Annika wasn't present at the senior staff meeting.

"Janeway to Seven." When no response came, Janeway repeated, urgently and a bit worried:

"Janeway to Seven." Still no response.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine is in Cargo Bay 2." Janeway looked up.

"Tuvok, Doctor, you're with me."

She walked to the turbolift, and practically ran to the cargo bay. A slight panic made her move faster than normal. When the doors swooshed open, the first thing she saw was Seven, lying on the floor, convulsing.

"Seven!"

The Doctor sat down next to the woman, and ran a tricorder over her. He looked at it, not believing what it told him. He ran it over her again.

"What is it, Doctor?" Janeway demanded, her voice harsh.

"I believe she is dying, Captain. I have to get her to Sickbay to perform a full bioscan. Maybe there is some way to reverse the process.

"Janeway to transporter room one. Four to beam directly to sickbay."

They were there a few seconds later.

"How can this be happening? I need an explanation, right now, Doctor!" The Captain said, tension and fear gripping her.

"Her cells are deteriorating Captain. It's the nanoprobes, they've started some sort of autodestruct-sequence," the Doctor said, his voice a strange mix of surprise and fear. He looked up at Janeway, his eyes pained. "There is nothing we can do for her, Captain."

With tears starting to form in her eyes, Kathryn yelled at him. "But there must be something we can do for her!" She bent over the body that was lying on the bed. Seven had stopped convulsing, her eyes were closed, but the unsteady beep of the heartmonitor told Kathryn that Seven was still alive. "Seven, Annika, sweety..." Her voice faltered.

"Captain?" Annika said, opening her eyes one last time. "Help me Captain, do not leave me alone.. I am sorry for what I have done.. please forgive me.. I am so sorry.." She hicupped, her heart stopped for a moment, she was unable to breathe. She looked up at Janeway, tried to grab her hand, failed. "I love you.." she said. A moment later the monitor let out an unending tone.

The first week after Seven's death, Janeway worked. Did the necessary things, and then retreated to her Ready Room. No one had dared to bother her, though they were all worried. After that week, the Doctor told her she was unfit for duty. And Kathryn hadn't even complained. Now, Chakotay was standing before the doors of her quarters.

When the doorchime rang, Kathryn looked up. "Come in."

Chakotay walked in and sat down in a chair opposite of the couch she was sitting on. He looked at her face, which was looking frail, with large grey eyes looking at a point next to him. The blue in them had vanished completely. He looked down for a moment, then said. "The Doctor has just given me the final results."

"How?" it was barely audible.

"We can't say for certain. What we do know is that it must have been going on for weeks. She had lost several kilograms. The computer said that she hadn't had a full regeneration cycle in over 3 weeks. They were all interrupted, she even skipped some of them. Almost no nutritions were found in her body. Her lungs had been bleeding. She had been automutilating. She had treated wounds and scars all over her body. And her nanoprobes probably concluded that she wasn't a good use of resources anymore."

"But why?" Kathryn looked at him, her eys desperate.

"The Doctor said that she has probably been unhappy for quite some time. She was experiencing anxiety and mental pain. He thinks, she.." Chakotay hesitated for a second, "wanted to end her life."

Kathryn entered Cargo Bay 2 and was delighted to see Seven regenerating as usual. It was all a bad dream, she mused. Seven is still here, everything is okay. She walked over to the alcove and looked up at Seven's pale face. Now would be a good time to have that talk Kathryn, she told herself and entered the necessary commands in the computer to interrupt Seven's cycle.

Seven looked down at Janeway, her gaze troubled, worried, tired.

"Now tell me, what's been going on," Janeway demanded.

A tear rolled down Seven's cheek and her voice was barely audible. "I am functioning adequately," she whispered.

"No, you are not." Janeway pulled Seven down from the dais and sat on the floor with her. "Just tell me."

"It's the Borg, the nightmares, the guilt. Only now I realize what I have done to all the people I have assimilated. What I have taken from them. It is something I find myself," she paused slightly, "incapable of dealing with."

Seven turned and gripped Janeway by her uniform, her eyes demanding. "You have to help me. Only you can help me."

A chill went over Kathryn's spine as she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She had failed Seven in the worst possible way. She had taken her from the Borg, ripped her away from everything she held dear, everything she relied upon, and forced her back to humanity. Then when Seven was finally starting to come to terms with that and was being overwhelmed by emotions that were new to her, Kathryn had failed to be there for her. To recognize her hurt. To save her life.

All this time she had been telling herself she was in love with Seven but that she couldn't give in to those feelings. Instead of showing her she loved her, she had turned away and left her alone to suffer. Because of her pathetic clinging to damn protocol and chains of command a young woman had hurt so much she had taken her own life.

And now these dreams, in which Seven explained to her what had been going on. And knowing that no matter what she'd never be able to rectify the situation. That no matter what, Seven was gone. Not for the first time it occurred to Kathryn that she was going through the same thing Seven had. The irony of it all. It made her laugh.

She got out of bed and dropped her nightgown on her way to the bathroom. She hugged herself as she leaned with her naked body against the cold tiles on the wall. To no longer feel, was all she wanted. Why, why hadn't she understood when Seven was still around, why hadn't she helped her, why did she let her suffer this way? She bumped her head against the wall. If she'd ram it hard enough, the physical pain would be stronger than the yearning in her head. With more and more force she slammed her head against the wall, shots of physical pain interacting with the hurt inside. "Why thunk can't thunk I thunk stop thunk hurting?"
But no matter how severe the pain was, she could not block out the hurt. Maybe, maybe if she'd hit the wall hard enough, she'd loose consciousness...

After weeks of nightmares, self loathing and unbearable mental pain, it finally hit her. There was a way to stop the pain, to stop it once and for all. To never have to think about the way she'd hurt the woman she loved with all of her being. She, Kathryn Janeway, no longer deserved to be around. She was an unfit captain, an unfit friend, an unfit human being.

"Computer," a strained voice, barely audible, said "ten milligrams of liquid cyanide. Janeway authorisation four-seven-omega-nine."

A second later, Kathryn held a small tube in her hand. Finally peace, she thought.

The silence was quite overwelming.