Annie was so overjoyed to see her, and was clearly enjoying the entire process of doting on her namesake, that there seemed no point in dropping any of her inner turmoil on Annie. It wasn’t as if it was something with which Annie could help her. The feeling of disorientation was something that she needed to work out on her own, and she hoped that she would be able to do so, given enough time. For now, simply spending time with Annie was a good start to acclimating herself to the worlds around her. Aunt Annie was her point of entrance back into the life of Annika Hansen, and perhaps something that would enable her to leave behind the voices that still rattled around in her head.
Besides which, Aunt Annie was not only a great recounter of anecdotes, but she also made a formidable apple tart.
It was on the sixth day of her vacation with Aunt Annie, while she was in the middle of eating one of those apple tarts in the kitchen, that Annie came to her with a concerned look on her face. “There’s someone at the door asking for you,” she said.
“Really?” Seven cocked a curious eyebrow. “The only person who knows I’m here is my supervisor at Starfleet Academy. Who could it possibly be? Is it…?” She suddenly perked up. “Is it someone from Voyager?”
“How would I know that?”
“Is the visitor in a Starfleet uniform?”
“No. It’s a Vulcan, if that’s of any use.”
“Tuvok!” she said immediately, springing to her feet. “I wonder what he’s—”
“It’s not a he. It’s a woman.”
She remained where she was. “A woman?”
“I may not know if someone is from Voyager, but I’m reasonably sure I can tell male from female,” Annie said drily.
“Very well,” said Seven. She came around the table and started to head out into the living room.
Annie stopped her for a moment, picked up a napkin, and wiped some crumbs from the edges of Seven’s mouth. Seven wanted to tell her that she was perfectly capable of wiping her own face, but kept it to herself. Annie had married once, but it had not lasted, and she had never had children of her own. So she had a boatload of maternal instinct and was happy to utilize it anywhere the opportunity presented itself. Seven smiled inwardly and allowed Annie to finish cleaning her up before she went out to see who this mysterious Vulcan visitor was.
She walked into the living room and there, indeed, was a female Vulcan. She was dressed simply, in nondescript clothing… so nondescript, in fact, that it caught Seven’s attention. Most Vulcans she knew were either ambassadors or members of Starfleet; that seemed to be the two professions that prompted Vulcans to leave their world. Otherwise they tended to be rather insular; certainly they didn’t show up on random colony worlds. The fact that this particular Vulcan was attired in such a way that she more or less looked like a colonist prompted Seven to wonder just why she was dressed in that manner. It made her think that she might be hiding something.
“May I help you?” she asked politely.
“Annika Hansen,” said the Vulcan. She was tilting her head slightly, like a canine trying to listen carefully for sounds that only she could hear.
Seven glanced in Annie’s direction. She automatically wanted to correct the Vulcan, but the fact that Annie was right there… “Yes,” Seven replied, trying not to grit her teeth.
The Vulcan paused and then said, as if to verify it, “Seven of Nine.”
Seven actually felt more comfortable hearing that name, even as she heard her aunt draw in her breath sharply. “Who wants to know?”
“Well, I do, obviously. You’re,” and unusually for a Vulcan, a smile seemed to tug at the edges of her mouth, “not exactly what I was expecting for a former assimilated Borg.”
“Please state your business or I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
“All right,” she said. “First of all, I wish to extend my condolences on the passing of Kathryn Janeway. I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but from what I understand, the two of you were very close.”
“We were, yes,” said Seven, “and I appreciate the sentiment. I think I’d appreciate it a little more if I knew what you were doing here.”
“I’m here because of the nature in which Admiral Jane-way passed away. It involved…”
“I know what it involved. I was there.”
“You were?” It was Aunt Annie who had spoken. “You were