Chakotay had insisted. Seven had relented. Instead of taking the transporter, they sat in a shuttlecraft.

The First Officer spent most of the trip transfixed by the brilliance of Earth's blues and greens. Seven could look at nothing but her shoes, her hands, the bulkhead...

“Nervous?”

She looked up sharply. “No.”

“It's perfectly natural to be nervous, Seven. It's been a long time since you've been home.”

“This isn't my home,” she responded, a touch of panic in her voice.

His face was tainted by sadness.

“I'm sorry,” she said honestly.

He took her hand in his. “We'll adapt. Together.”