Chapter Text
“Where the hell did you get that?” Raffi asks with a wry chuckle as she sits down next to Seven on the blood splattered, but still disturbingly shiny side step of the bridge of the Titan-A, groaning as her ribs protest the movement. She figures at least two of them are busted up, and a few more of them might be cracked, but Dr Ohk is currently below decks, checking on survivors and hoping that there might be more good news to report than at first thought (Seven had grimly voiced her belief that that’s unlikely, but she’s willing to stay hopeful for the crew if that’s what they need right now). In any case, the doctor is otherwise occupied so the war wounds that both she and Seven have littered across their weary, "too-old-for-this-shit" bodies will have to wait for a few hours.
Which doesn’t answer the question of where Seven had gotten the very Rios like cigar from.
“I found it on La Sirena when I was doing her check-in a few days ago,” Seven notes between puffs. She holds it up in the air for a moment, smiling wistfully as she considers the friend they’d left years in the past and then offers the cigar to Raffi, who looks at it in disgust. “What?” Seven teases. “You’ve smoked snakeleaf and hundred other things, but you won’t touch a cigar after we’ve just managed to survive a five hundred to one battle with the Borg?” From some people, those words might feel like an insult, a reminder of the difficult roads Raffi has traveled in her life, but from Seven, they’re just fact and they’re said without any kind of recrimination.
“Good point,” Raffi agrees, taking the cigar from her and puffing from it. “Wait. When did you check La Sirena in? And why wasn’t I around for that? Captains should always be around for all inventory and inspection of her ship. Federation and basic Maritime and Spacetime regulation."
“You’re right,” Seven nods sagely, taking the cigar back. “The captain was, indeed, around.”
Raffi drops her head down, giving Seven a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Are you serious?”
“When am I not?" Seven answers, though it's fairly clear that she's intentionally working Raffi up for her own amusement. Or perhaps because a worked-up Raffi has always been just a little bit of a turn-on to her (not that she would ever admit to such). "Need I remind you that La Sirena was only on loan to you, Commander? Just like that holster you’re current cowgirling around.” She gestures towards Raffi’s hip with the cigar.
“I look good in it,” Raffi shrugs, daring Seven to contest the claim. Then winces as her ribs resist the motion, reminding her of the last several hours - weeks - of pain and exhaustion. That she feels like she's been dragged across cement...well, everyone on this ship probably does so who is she to complain?
“You do.” Then, her mood shifting from teasing to quietly worried and her blue eyes growing intense with concern in a way that is uniquely her, Seven asks,“How hurt are you?”
“How hurt are you?” Raffi volleys back, knowing damn well that the woman who has shared her bed and her heart is likely to be holding the same pain in her body and mind that she is. There's no real doubt that they've been through a lot - too much. But here they still are, and that matters, too.
Seven puffs on the cigar, doesn’t respond, her eyes flickering across the Bridge. For the next at least forty-eighty hours (but probably much, much longer as she’s told the crew, in the interest of the honesty she feels they deserve), the Titan is on lock down just like every other ship in the fleet. Every ship has been quarantined and will be one-by-one inspected by a team of security personnel compromised of medical, intelligence and security operatives that will clear each crew and verify that the Borg and Changeling elements have been completely removed before anyone has a chance to interact with anyone else. It’s going to be a long process for everyone.
“Right,” Raffi nods as she reaches for the cigar and takes it from Seven, her tone growing serious and dark after too much silence. “We don’t talk about these things, do we?”
Seven rolls her head towards her, hearing the much deeper strain there, the strain that has caused so many problems in their relationship. The frustrating inability to say the words that need to be said - the words she genuinely wants to say, but truly doesn’t know how to.
“Raff -“
“It’s fine. It’s always fine.”
Seven looks at her for a long moment, then asks softly, “Are…are we?”
It’s Raffi’s turn to gaze at Seven, studying Seven’s always emotive eyes, and reading deep into them so as to see what they’re saying that Seven’s words can’t. The way they’ve always communicated so many of her more complicated and difficult for her to relay thoughts and feelings. Often, the “feelings” expressed by Seven’s eyes alone have been enough to hold the bond between them tight, even if Raffi has sometimes wished they could communicate in the ways that most “normal couples” do as well. But then, they’re not exactly normal, she muses.
So Raffi smiles at her adoringly, because what else could she do. “We’ll get through.”
It takes Seven a moment to parse the response - she’d plainly been expecting either a simple “yes” or a “no”, but her eyes jump side-to-side in quick thought and then she nods in relief.
Raffi smiles once more, and then drops her head to Seven’s shoulder; they maybe shouldn’t do this out in the middle of the Bridge (even if they are off to the side, just slightly), but frankly, after what they’ve all been through, they just don’t care. And neither do any of the other survivors who are all still absorbing the reality that they are still alive. No one cares and so Raffi puts her head on Seven’s shoulder and wraps an arm around her waist and she feels Seven lift a hand and slide fingers through her blonde curls, dropping them against her scalp to very gently rub like Seven knows she has always liked when she’s extremely tired and deeply stressed out.
“We’ll get through,” Seven murmurs in agreement, blue eyes straight ahead.
Resolute.
Maybe the reason they miss it at first is that the headaches start right after a Romulan senator invited aboard the Enterprise as part of a cultural exchange (“We’re the flagship, Seven; we get these kinds of butter-ass bullshit little missions. Smile, drink champagne and then go take a long shower and you’ll be fine.”) creates a massive diplomatic mess for Seven after he decides that he wants to marry the daughter of the Andorian senator and well, who could blame her?
She’s this close to telling Sidney to find her a fight, but she doesn’t think Starfleet would be too fond of her flying their little rocket flagship into Fenris territory just because she’s in a mood.
So she goes back to her quarters, turns on classical music, considers asking Raffi over to spend the night (but they’ve chosen to - for the time being, anyway - do the professional team with occasional benefits thing and they’d just been together a few nights ago so she supposes that kind of defeats the occasional part of the description - not that she thinks Raffi would mind) and instead picks up her PADD and dials up a volume on deep space battle tactics. It’s while she’s in the middle of studying case notes from the late twenty-third century when the headache hits hard enough to make her put the PADD down, her vision blurring and tears forming in both her natural and mechanical eye. Which suggests to her that the pain would have had to be intense to jolt both sides of her brain, she surmises when she stabilizes.
She replicates herself up a low-grade pain hypo (anything more will get the attention of Sickbay and she’d rather not have to deal with that right now), takes it and then returns to her reading.
This is how it goes for her over the next few weeks. Headaches that come on fast and brutally hard, nearly paralyzing in intensity and pain. When they pass after a few long seconds, she rationalizes them away and gets back to whatever work the migraines had interrupted, refusing to allow the strange headaches to get in the way of her duties, and because no one else had been around to witness them, she tells herself that she has no need to see Doctor Ohk.
This blatant aversion should be her warning, but she ignores that as well.
Over the years, Seven has well adopted the human ability to live in denial as necessary.
That little bubble starts to crack, though, when she tells Raffi not once, but twice that she’s got a bit too much paperwork for them to get together for a previously planned romantic evening together and sees the way Raffi’s smile slightly sags. Yes, they’re not quite fully together at the moment, but they’re also not exactly…not together (they've spent a few too many nights in each others quarters to pretend that they are) and Raffi is feeling pushed off and she can’t explain.
In some understanding that she’s losing control, Seven promises she’ll make it up to her (and then immediately fails in that by canceling their usual morning coffee updates on two of the next next three mornings) but Raffi tells her she understands even though it’s clear she doesn’t. It’s clear she thinks they’re returning to old patterns where Seven is pushing her away, maybe getting commitment phobic or tired of her or whatever other long held fears Raffi has never entirely let go of no matter how hard she’s worked to trust their love for one another. Most of the time, she believes in them completely, but when Seven stops talking to her - well, Seven knows what she’s doing right now and she knows the look she sees in Raffi’s eyes when Raffi smiles thinly in response and says, “It’s fine; don’t worry about it.”
But it’s not fine.
It’s not fine but Raffi is wrong about what the problem is (it’s not them; on the contrary, it’s fear over what now feels like the inevitability of losing them, she thinks darkly as she stares blankly out the window) and over the last week or so, the headaches have been getting more painful and intense in a troubling way. She’s been hiding them with more Ready Room hours (and mostly getting away with it because for the last couple of days, the Enterprise has been doing a standard star system survey so Raffi has been doing Crew Fitness Reviews in the gym) which has kept her largely away from the Alpha Shift, but then there’s a klaxon going off as one of the stars starts going wonky and Seven is out of her chair and on her way to the Bridge before she has the sense to think about what she’s doing or why it’s maybe not a great idea right now.
Then again, she’s the captain; it’s not like she has a lot of options. Her place is on the Bridge.
Seven pushes a hypo into her neck and takes a deep breath and heads out.
But honestly, from the moment Seven jerkily steps onto the Bridge and feels a nearly blinding headache crack through her skull, she knows that her secret is going to end up coming out today and everything is going to change for everyone on this ship. But mostly for she and Raffi.
“Options,” she calls out, her heels clipping sharply against the polished deck plates. She can feel a bit of a tremor in her thighs and tries to make her way over to her familiar and safe captain’s chair, dropping herself down into it, hoping the painkiller she’d taken will quickly soothe whatever neurological issue is causing her discomfort enough to allow her to focus.
Her crew starts spitting options and ideas at her and at first, it’s fine. This is how it always goes for her and for them. They always talk this quick and rapid fire - it’s their way on this ship; in fact, it’s what she’s always invited from them when shit hits the fan and they don’t really have time for polite one-at-a-time discussion. Her brain is quick, easily able to absorb this much information and churn and file it. One hundred times this, really. But, right now, maybe not.
She blinks and blinks and blinks. Pain continues building within her brain. Her vision blurs.
Behind her, a turbolift door opens. She hears the sound somewhere in the back of cotton-balled brain, but right now, it’s just one more sound and it hurts. It fucking hurts.
She hears footsteps, loud and echoing. Then, “Seven?”
She blinks again and realizes a very worried Raffi is standing in front of her. Raffi wasn’t here a minute ago, she knows. Now she is. Dressed in workout pants and a very sweaty tanktop.
She winces. Forces herself to focus. Exhales.
What she finally manages is a growled, “You’re out of uniform, Commander.” She says the words - caustic, colder than usual, uncalled for - as she’s pulling away from a surprised Raffi.
Raffi’s eyebrow launches into her hairline. “Sorry, figured we had an emergency. Captain.”
Around her, the crew exchange worried looks; they’re not used to this kind of tension between their command team. Yes, they’ve seen these two strong women bicker from time to time and occasionally even argue, but this feels different. Off. Everything about this moment feels wrong.
“Good of you to show up for our crisis,” Seven says snippily.
Raffi tilts her head in confusion, but Seven’s already turned away from her, towards the screen.
“I need ideas, people and so far what I’ve heard isn’t going to get it done. I’m going to need to need ocean speed in the tower. You. We. Better than that -“ Seeing the confusion on her crews faces, Seven points towards the wide screen, her hand seeming to tremble as she gestures towards the shimmering, appearing to burn up star showing there. “We have to fly…us.”
Raffi glances around at the rest of the crew, seeing her same perplexed expression mirrored on their faces. They’ve never seen their captain acting erratic and confused like this. If they didn’t know better, they’d say she was drunk, but Raffi had been standing next to her just a second ago, and there’s no smell of alcohol on her and every instinct Raffi has for this kind of thing - and she has a lot - says this isn’t inebriation. Which makes whatever this is a whole lot scarier.
“Seven,” Raffi says, her voice lowering to a pitch only she can hear. “Seven, are you all right?”
Seven turns her head, oddly jerkily. “You’re…I’m fine. You’re late.”
“Yeah, we covered that. I was working out with the crew on fitness reviews. You knew that.”
“Parched, too,” Seven says, nodding her head, like what she’d said Is obvious.
Raffi moves herself so that she’s positioned in front of Seven, shielding her from the eyes of everyone, protecting her as she always has. Lifting her hands up, she places them on the captain’s face, “Seven, that doesn’t make any sense. You’re not making any sense.”
Seven smacks her hand against her temple. “Fine.” Then points at the screen. “Tort.”
“Right,” Raffi murmurs, looking over at the rest of the crew.
Seven growls in frustration. “Burn. Burn.” She turns to Mura. Points. “Position three night.”
Seeing Mura’s confusion, Raffi lowers one of her hands and places it over Seven’s wrist, her fingers sliding over the metal lining her bones and knuckles. We understand, Captain.” She taps her combadge. “Musiker to Sickbay; I need a Med team up on the Bridge, ASAP.”
“Is there a problem, Commander?” Dr. Ohk asks, her voice tinny over the combadge line.
Raffi glances around at the crew again, seeing expressions which have turned from confusion to fear. From there, her eyes slide back to Seven who is starring at the screen. Quietly, almost like she doesn’t want Seven to hear her, she says, “Something is wrong with the captain.”
“I’m on my way,” Ohk tells her. “Two minutes.”
Raffi taps her badge, then turns back to Seven, the hand on her elbow now. “How about we sit down, all right?” She gently leads her back towards her chair.
“Star. Starship down. Resistance. No…no more. No…no.” Seven gestures to the screen.
“Hey, hey, I know. Easy. It’s okay. It’s okay,” she murmurs. She guides Seven to her chair and seats her in it, keeping one hand on her, not willing to break the contact with her deeply confused lover. From there, she looks over at Sidney. “LaForge, where’s Jack right now?”
“Down with my sister in Engineering working on getting the engines primed up in case we need to get the hell out of Dodge in a hurry,” Sidney tells her, curiously face-forward towards the screen. Most certainly a show of respect for Seven considering her strange condition.
Behind them, Raffi hears the sound of a site-to-site transporter beam-in and then Ohk and one of her male nurses is moving towards her and Seven. “What happened?” Ohk demands.
“No idea. I got up here maybe five minutes ago and since I have, she’s gone from being able to speak more or less to…not so much. But I think she was behaving erratic even before that.” She looks to the others for confirmation and receives nods of acknowledgement from them.
Ohk frowns, her tricorder out. She waves a light in front of Seven’s blue eyes. “Captain?”
“Cluster tread four red. Boom.”
“Aphasia,” Raffi notes, fingers tracing over Seven’s temple. The motion is undeniably tender.
“Indeed,” Ohk agrees gravely, frowning as she looks back into Seven’s frightened eyes, the blonde woman’s emotions on unusually vivid display. After running her tricorder over Seven and seeing a lot of bars rising that shouldn’t be and an alarm triggering, she stands up and says, “Computer, Chief Medical Officer authorization code Ohk 16-Alpha-Echo-November-12; transfer full command of the Enterprise effective immediately to Commander Raffaela Musiker.”
“Authorization accepted. Command has been transferred to Commander Raffaela Musiker.”
“I’ll take good care of her,” Ohk promises and then she and the nurse are transporting away with Seven a moment later, leaving Raffi with the rest of the shellshocked crew.
Raffi takes a deep breath, then exhales raggedly. She taps her combadge. “Bride to Engineering. Alandra, Jack, be ready to go real fast if we need to get out of here in a hurry.”
“We’ll be ready,” Alandra promises, neither one of them thankfully asking where Seven in.
Raffi taps her combadge once more, then turns to the others. “Look, I know all of our hearts are with Seven right now - mine is, too, but our heads have to be right here. We have a job to do so I need everyone to pull it together and get in the game. Okay? So what’s our play?”
“How many?”
“Four,” Ohk confirms, glancing up at the monitor, a slight smile playing at the corner of her lips. It’s not a particularly amusing situation, but these two - the commander she’s served with for the last ten months who has stepped into the role of captain with the death of Shaw and this new woman whom Seven clearly has some kind of romantic history with - are fascinating to her.
“Four broken ribs,” Seven echoes.
“I figured it was only two,” Raffi shrugs from where she’s sitting on the bio-bed, her legs swinging out in front of her like she’s a child getting a scrapped knee cleaned up and not a warrior getting several broken bones tended to. “One of those goo-freaks must have caught me a bit harder than I’d thought. It’ll heal in a few days, right?” She makes to jump off the bed.
“More like a few weeks,” Ohk agrees, putting a hand out to slow her. “But not if you don’t allow yourself to actually rest. I can give you something mild to help offset the pain, but your file -“
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Raffi says with an impatient wave of her hand. She chooses not to mention the drug that is just now finally getting out of her system “Honestly, ribs are nothing.”
“Even so, go easy,” Ohk urges. “At least for a few days, Commander.”
“She’s right, Raff. And it’s not like we have anywhere to go for awhile. Kind of stuck here.”
Raffi sighs. Then brightens up. “You know what? We should do a slumber party.”
“A what now?”
Ohk chuckles and turns away from them, pretending to clean up her tools while most certainly listening in. She’s noticed how Seven has moved closer to Raffi and how there appears to be a whole lot of touching between the two of them. Interesting. Seven had never mentioned this woman before (not that that’s surprising; Seven has always been pretty guarded - though Ohk supposes that had had a lot to do with not trusting Shaw) and yet it couldn’t be more clear to her just how important this Commander Musiker is to the newly minted interim captain.
“The crew has been through a lot,” Raffi states as she gingerly adjusts her sitting position on the bio-bed, her hands gripping the hard mattress beneath her. “I know I don’t know them and they don’t know me and you might think this is stupid, but…there’s a few things that are pretty much the same after any crisis; people always want to be around each other. No one wants to be alone after so much tragedy and trauma. We all…kind of need each other."
“Okay,” Seven nods. “I get that. But what does -“ she blinks as she regards her abundant research. “A silly party with sleeping bags and doing hair and gossip and ice cream and oh.”
“Exactly.” Raffi looks over at Ohk. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”
“I do,” Ohk confirms. “I have…more than a few memories of slumber parties from growing up.”
“So we bring everyone that’s…still with us and wants to be together in the Mess. And we cook for them and maybe throw some old Earth movies on the wall and try to remind them why we survived,” Raffi suggests, reaching out for Seven’s augmented hand. “Let them…live.”
“It’s an insane idea,” Seven murmurs, looking down at their hands. “I like it.”
It’s instinct that makes Ohk step away, then - somehow, she just knows then need a moment alone without her there and so she moves across the room to retrieve bandages and a hypo.
That doesn’t mean she doesn’t see it, though.
Doesn’t mean she doesn’t see Seven reach up and touch Raffi’s face, fingers grazing her cheek.
She doesn’t hear what Seven says, but she sees Seven lean in, sees them forehead to forehead for several long moments, just lost in each others space, breathing in each others air. And then they’re just holding one another, unapologetic, unashamed, grateful to be alive. She sees Raffi - even though she’s slightly taller - put her head on Seven’s shoulder, just clutching like two women who have finally found their first sips of water after countless miles alone in the desert.
It’s the door to the Sickbay opening and Esmar entering that makes them break apart or Ohk thinks (rather absurdly) that maybe they’d never have given up each others arms. Esmar seems nervous about their interruption but Seven is quick to put them at ease, listening to their report.
When Esmar is done, Seven moves to follow them out, stopping only to say to Raffi, “Set up the party, I’ll spread to the rest of the crew to meet in the Mess at nineteen hundred hours.”
“So you really do think it’s a good idea, then?” Raffi asks, seeming both hopeful and uncertain.
“It’s an incredible idea,” Seven tells her, eyes warm and affectionate and so full of adoration that you’d have to be blind to be miss it. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And then she’s turning and exiting with Esmar, leaving Raffi with Ohk. Who Raffi shrugs at sheepishly.
“Oh, I feel like there are stories,” Ohk chuckles.
That earns a laugh from Raffi. “So many,” Raffi agrees and they both know she won’t tell any of them. Not yet, at least. But for now, there’s a respect building between them and that’s enough.
It takes Raffi far longer than she would like to get down to Sickbay - as it turns out, fleeing an exploding star tends to be rather problematic and this one ends being a real pain in the ass. Thankfully, when you have two LaForges, a Crusher, a whole crew of mavericks as well as her own skills at getting out of more than a few tight spots, things tend to work out in the long run.
So, they survive and that’s great, but as she’s weaving through the decks towards Sickbay, her mind is only on one thing at this point: her captain, her friend, her partner, and her beloved.
True, she and Seven aren’t technically together, but they’ve always understood that what they are above everything else is, is partners. They’ve reached the point in their lives where no matter what, they’re going to walk whatever journeys come next for them together. Good or bad and everything weird and wonderful in-between, they’ll do it together and figure it out.
Anyway, that’s the plan and the understanding and so Raffi finds her heart hammering in her chest as she nears Sickbay, her mind replaying with unsettling clarity those few minutes on the Bridge when it’d been disturbingly clear that Seven had for some reason lost the ability to communicate. Her behavior had seemed off from the jump, but then the weird aphasia and -
The doors slide open and Raffi enters, moving fast and looking desperately around.
“Commander,” Ohk calls back. “Over here.” She motions for Raffi to come over to a bio-bed near the far back of the room (thankfully behind a divider, which mercifully affords Seven at least a small measure of privacy so that passing by crew will be prevented from seeing their struggling captain) where Seven is sitting up, a strange glowing device inches from her face.
“What is that?” Raffi asks without further greeting.
“It’s checking her implants.”
“You think -“
“Yes.” She hands Raffi a PADD. “I took the liberty of checking into the captain’s medical file. This isn’t the first time she’s had symptoms of this kind. Is it, Captain?”
“No,” Seven murmurs from behind the screen of the device.
“You -“
“I was able to give her something to control the symptoms,” Ohk nods. “Temporarily.”
Raffi frowns. “Temporarily. Seven?”
“Very. You should read her file, Raffi,” Ohk tells her. “She’s going to be in that scan for a minute and she needs to stay still.” To Seven, with as authoritatively a tone as she can manage. “Still.”
“This is still,” Seven grumbles and then twitches to the left.
Raffi smiles slightly, but her eyes are on the screen of the PADD, reading the tiny print there, absorbing all the words there about how many years ago, Seven’s cortical node had failed and she’d almost died. In fact would have had it not been for Icheb gifting her his own. Before hers had failed, she’d suffered from extreme headaches, emotional outbursts and tremors as well as an inability to regenerate. A footnote observes that other xBs who have nodes fail have also suffered from sleeplessness, inability to control limbs, nausea, night terrors and aphasia.
“Your cortical node is failing again,” she whispers.
“I think so,” Seven says from behind the brightly blinking scanning screen.
“Are you in pain? Right…right now?”
Seven doesn’t reply, her jaw twitching.
“Baby, please. It’s me,” Raffi pleads.
She hears rather than sees Seven exhale. Then, softly, “Yes. I hurt.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought - why?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“It’s my place to worry about you, Seven. In every role I have in your life, it’s my place.”
A pause and then with possibly more emotion - more raw fear than Raffi has ever heard in her voice before, Seven says,“I know. I’m sorry. I’m…I’m scared, Raff. I’m really scared.”
Raffi nods jerkily, then stands up. “Doctor Ohk? Emira?”
Ohk turns from where she’d been pretending to distract herself by cleaning up her tools.
“Is the scan done? I’d -“ Raffi extends her arms to Seven, making it clear that she needs to get to her right now, needs to be with her without any kind of technology in the way of them.
“Go ahead,” Ohk tells her, her voice kind. “We have all the data we need.”
Raffi never hesitates; she’s over to Seven in a flash, pushing the diagnostic device away and then pulling the blonde into her strong arms, her lips pressing against blonde hair she’s just now noticing is limper and duller than normal. She murmurs gently into Seven’s ear, humming.
Part of her wants to get mad at Seven again for not reaching out, but there’s just no point; the two of them are both painfully stubborn and as much as she’d love to think she’d have reached out for help if she were in Seven’s place, she knows herself well enough to know she wouldn’t have. Even after all this time, they still try to not be a burden for the people they love the most.
She feels Seven shaking in her arms - her stoic, brave, impossibly strong Seven - so deeply frightened right now and incapable of hiding it as her mind breaks down and coldly betrays her. It’s a horrifying thing to witness, really - to see someone so strong be rendered so helpless.
It’s a few minutes later - or perhaps a short eternity - when she sees Ohk approach, wheeling one of the portable view-screens. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I figured we should talk options.”
Raffi feels Seven stiffen in her arms, her grip tightening on Raffi’s forearms. When she looks up, there’s a clear moment of what sees like anger in her eyes - maybe even more than that - but then she’s blinking it away and there’s confusion instead and Raffi feels the grip intensify.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers. “Hold onto me.” To Ohk, she nods. “Right, options. Of course.”
“I’ve got Admiral Crusher from Starfleet Medical on with us. She’s been reviewing Seven’s file.”
The screen flickers on and they see Beverly Crusher on the other side of the screen, sitting in her brightly decorated office at Starfleet Medical. Looking a bit tired and dressed in red scrubs like she’s recently come out of surgery, she offers them a slight smile. “Seven, Raffi, it’s good to see you both again. I wish we were saying hello again under better circumstances.”
“You, too, Bev,” Raffi greets. She looks over at Seven, noticing that her captain has dazed off.
“How long has this been happening?” Beverly asks, observing the same thing. Raffi notes that the doctor has an old school pen and paper in front of her and is scribbling down thoughts.
“To my knowledge, this part? Just today. But I suspect she’s been holding back symptoms from me for awhile. I’ve been doing Fitness Reviews for the last few days so we’ve been on different tracks and she’s canceled a few of our meet-ups. Crew says she’s been in her office a lot supposedly completing reports.” Raffi reaches over and touches Seven’s face. “Seven?”
“I’m here,” Seven says dully.
“Good girl,” Raffi tells her, not caring about their audience (though both of these women are well aware of their relationship so really, what does it matter, anyway, she muses) . “Good.” She runs her hands over Seven’s hair, gently stroking it in what she hopes is a soothing manner.
“Seven, how long has this been going on?” Beverly asks.
“Which…which…” Seven closes her eyes and focuses herself to focus. “Which part?”
“The aphasia for one?”
“Today.” She taps her head. “Green. No. Start. Yes.” She taps again. “Today. Today.”
Raffi squeezes her hand again and is relieved when Seven squeezes back.
“How long have you been having headaches?” Beverly asked. “You can just nod if you’d like?”
Seven does so in confirmation, seeming relieved.
“How long? Days?” Off Seven’s shake of her head, she corrects with, “Weeks?” And gets a nod. “Okay. And have the headaches been mild?” A shake of the head. “Severe? Yes. Okay.. Give me just a moment, all right? I want to check something.” She stands up and walks around her desk, stepping into the hallway and moving down to the office just next door to hers.
“You should have told me,” Raffi murmurs, turning her head towards Seven.
Seven tries to speak and ends up biting her lip in frustration instead. While Raffi looks over at Ohk as if to ask if she can give her more medication to assist (she shakes her head no; Raffi figures likely because the last dose was so recently - a dire sign), Seven looks for a PADD to try to write down what she’s trying to say. When Raffi turns back, Seven holds it out to her.
“I didn’t want it to be real,” Raffi reads off the PADD and then laughs. “The single most logical person in the whole universe and you thought you could will it away by ignoring it.”
Seven looks at the PADD, then closes her eyes and forces out, “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Seven,” Raffi murmurs, feeling a warmth in the middle of her chest and not even beginning to know how to reply to that. While she has never really doubted Seven’s love for her (even if Seven has never actually said it) or her commitment (not after after Seven had asked her to be her Number One and not after other things Seven has said to her and done for her over the years), it’s one thing to believe such a sentiment to be true, but quite another to hear it.
“Well hopefully you won’t have to,” Beverly says as she re-enters her office and seats herself back at her desk, re-positioning herself in the middle of the screen. “We do have options. Full disclosure: none of them are great options and all of them have risk but they’re options.”
Raffi turns, her hand once again in Seven’s. “Let’s hear them.”
“The conventional one: find a young enough xB able to donate their cortical node.”
“Riskier to the one donating than it would be to Seven,” Raffi states, thinking back to the quick reading she’d just done through Seven’s medical history. She remembers seeing the note on Icheb suffering unexpected complications after he’d donated his cortical node to Seven.
“Right,” Beverly agrees.
“Even if we could find one, Seven would never agree to that.” Raffi glances over at Seven for confirmation and gets a quick shake of the head. “Okay, what else do we have?”
“Over the last three decades since Seven and Voyager returned and since many of the xBs have been recovered started and receiving medical care, there’s been a lot of medical advancements in relation to Borg physiology. Not as much as we might like, but Hugh really pioneered a lot of growth especially in relation to independence from Borg technology.”
Seven taps her arm and hands Raffi the PADD. Taking it, she reads, “You want to try to make Seven no longer dependent on her cortical node.” Raffi looks up. “Wait. Is that possible?”
“Not fully, no, but we think we can split the baby,” Beverly states. She slides her chair to the side, showing them the screen behind her. “When Seven’s original node failed many years ago, one of her major symptoms was a sudden emergence of new implants. Like malignant tumors across her body popping up in the absence of chemotherapy. It’s a crude analogy but -“
“I get it,” Raffi nods, squeezing Seven’s hand. “But that didn’t happen this time.”
“Because over the last twenty years as her human biology as asserted itself more, her reliance on regeneration has lessened dramatically which has changed the way her implants interact with her cortical node. She only needs to regenerate once every ten days now instead of every day or every other day thus her implants no longer go to her cortical implant each day for marching orders. The use it more as a way to refresh and clear out old data,” Beverly explains.
“Not…not a machine,” Seven manages. She gives Raffi a slight smile of relief when Raffi responds to her words by taking her hand and squeezing it in confirmation and support.
“No, Seven, you aren’t,” Beverly confirms. “But what was done to you all those years ago does present us with unique complications. You can’t entirely function without your cortical node and we don’t have a way to get a replacement so our only option is to create one of our own.”
“Split the baby,” Raffi echoes from earlier.
Ohk hands both and Seven PADDS. “The entire proposed procedure is on here.”
Beverly brings the same procedure with schematics up on her screen and then points to it. “In short, Science and Intelligence have built a fairly complicated but also rather brilliant device that they believe could take over the necessary functions we believe the implants still require. Which, to be clear, is still quite a bit. For everything else, Seven, we believe your human brain has healed enough since your days in the Collective to be able to step in and do the job. But we will need to reroute several of the synapses and pathways to make that possible.”
“This is…incredibly advanced brain surgery,” Raffi notes, frowning as she reads through it. She shows it to Seven, her finger tracing through the primary line the surgeon will take. She’s not sure just how much Seven’s troubled mind can track right now, but she wants her to see it all.
“It is,” Beverly acknowledges. “And the risks are…substantial.”
“Vegetable,” Seven forces out, trembling as she speaks. One look at her - usually so strong and proud and bold and now looking very much the opposite of that - and it’s clear that she’s exhausted, every bit of forcing things through a mind that’s breaking down on her and rapidly falling apart around her clearly tiring her out. Which is even worse when you realize that thanks to her cortical node failing, she can’t regenerate and rejuvenate as she is very much needed.
“The chance of significant and irreversible catastrophic brain damage is there, yes. And if the device doesn’t work outside of the laboratory testing, then -“
“Then none of this actually matters,” Raffi finishes grimly. “Are those our only options?”
“Essentially, we have three options. Replacement -
“Which we aren’t sure that would work again, anyway,” Raffi muses, glancing over at her lover, who is staring at the screen, her eyes on the schematics showing the pathways of her brain.
“Then it’s the experimental surgery or…”
“Right,” Raffi murmurs, understanding the unspoken grim other option of doing nothing at all and just allowing Seven to pass away; a horrible possibility . “What kind of timeline are we on?”
The two doctors exchange a look. Ohk says, “Based on the level of deterioration we’ve seen within the last two weeks and within the last twenty-four hours, I’d say we could be looking at potentially a full failure of the captain’s cortical node within the next one to two days.”
“Oh my God,” Raffi murmurs, instinctively pulling Seven closer to her.
“You’ll need to make your decision quickly,” Beverly tells her. “If you choose the surgery, you’ll need to be on your way immediately. Starfleet Medical is a full day at Warp 9, I believe.”
“Understood. Can we have a moment to talk this over?” Raffi requests.
“Of course. Emira, a word in your office?”
“Certainly, Beverly,” Ohk agrees and then disappears into her office, closing the door behind her so as to allow Raffi and Seven their solitude.
“Well,” Raffi laughs, sitting down next to Seven, hands still together. “Here we are again.”
Seven hands Raffi the PADD, the words on it saying only: “Impossible odds.”
“Sure,” Raffi agrees. “But that’s never been a problem for us.”
“Raff,” Seven forces out.
“I know. What do you want to do, babe?”
Seven takes the PADD from her, writes, “You’re not going to push for the operation?”
“I think…I think after you’ve been through, this has to be a choice that’s yours. What I want -“ Raffi swallows hard, blinking back tears. “What I want can’t be more important than what you do. If you’re ready…if you need peace…” she stops, a hand over her mouth.
Seven’s hand reaches out and grips hers. Hard. Insistent. Thrusts the PADD into her palm.
“Read,” she manages even though it’s becoming nearly impossible now to speak.
Through tears, Raffi reads aloud, “I want to live. To stay with you. We go to Earth.”
Raffi looks up at her, about to ask the question. Are you sure?
Seven leans in and answers it with her lips, soft, trembling slightly, her body shaky.
Raffi holds her tight. Against her lips, “We’re always in it together, aren’t we?”
She feels Seven mouth, lips gentle against hers, “Yes.”
“Is this really what a slumber party is like?” Seven asks from where they’re positioned behind the counter, the two of them leaning over and watching as the crew sits on the floor together, gathered on blankets with candles on them, bags of snacks all around them. To their sides are replicated sleeping bags that will be used for later, so the crew can hunker down together.
“More or less,” Raffi shrugs. “We’ll show the movies on the wall over there later. They’ve got the beer and the wine covered, but there was also a considerable amount of marijuana.”
Seven rolls her head and looks at her.
“Which would very obviously be inappropriate,” Raffi nods, grinning slightly, her eyes sparkling in that mischievous way that is uniquely Raffi. “But the spirit is the same. Frivolous, affectionate, safe and protected shared time and space between friends. Exactly what they need right now.”
“And the crying?” Seven asks, glancing towards where one of the circles appears to have devolved into what appears to be a group cry. “Should I…should I go over there? Is that -“
“No. Let them have this. They’re letting you share in it by not hiding it from you. But right now, what they need is what they have. Including you giving them protection just by being here.”
“How is it you always seem to know the right thing to say?”
“Hah. There are many Starfleet admirals and Romulan senators who would strongly disagree.”
“They’d all be wrong.”
Raffi turns her head and looks at her. “Hey, you okay?
“I can’t compliment you without you asking me if I’m okay? Am I that much of an ass?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t why I asked. “You seem…thoughtful. And I am your Acting XO.”
“Are you now?”
“Indeed. Which makes it officially my job to worry about you. Acting Captain Seven.”
“No offense, Ma’ams, but you’ve been apart too long; your flirting is a fucking atrocity,” the Cook says and then meanders away, missing a step as he makes his way back to a blanket.
“Great,” Seven nods. “Now we’re getting critiqued by my semi-drunk pilot-turned-cook. Wow.”
“He’s not wrong. We have been apart too long.”
Seven huffs out a laugh. “We have,” she admits. Her eyes scan the room, doing a count of everyone there (aside from those who are in Sickbay, whether patient or staff - all who have been checked in on and brought their own location relevant and appropriate supplies for the evening - seven members of the crew had opted not to come for their own reasons; she and Raffi had gone to see each and every one of them, spending time with them and promising to come see them in the morning) and then a health check to verify pulse rate, intoxication -
“Sev, they’re okay,” Raffi tells her, a hand on her wrist. “Just…let them have this time. Turn off the tech and use your eyes.” She pats the front of Seven’s chest. “And use that beautiful thing in side of you that continues to fight for everyone you love. They’re okay and if they’re not, that’s all right - we’re here. We’re watching over them. And we’ll protect them. You and me.”
“Yes, we will,” Seven agrees. Then, “You really think I’m an ass?”
Raffi chuckles. “I think you manage to make snark a whole lot sexier than it has any right to be.”
“I…have no idea how to respond to that,” Seven deadpans.
“I don’t think you have to,” Raffi shrugs. “But since we’re on the subject of unanswered questions, answer mine: what’s on your mind, babe?”
“How close we came to the end,” Seven admits, as much like a blunt object as ever.
“Not our first ‘end of the world as we know it’ scrape.”
Seven’s eyes scan for a second. “REM.”
“Cris had one of their LPs. Played it to the point of having to replace it. Twice,” Raffi chuckles, wistful as she always is whenever she mentions their long missing and now long dead friend. It’s fascinating, she thinks, that Cris has now come up twice on this day - once with his cigar and now again with his record; he’d love that, she knows. Love that his memory continues on.
“And no, not our first,” Seven acknowledges, her eyes again scanning the room, for a moment landing on Sidney LaForge. “Doesn’t change that I’m still…catching my breath. Over the last two years, we’ve faced odds almost beyond mathematical computation twice and somehow, inexplicably, come out on the other side both times. I guess I’m trying to make sense of it.”
Raffi chuckles, causing Seven to turn her head and look at her with a popped eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Raffi shrugs. “It’s just, how do you not see what the two events have in common?”
“I assume you mean us?”
“Us,” Raffi confirms. “We survive. Kinda what we do.”
“You understand that’s a slogan, right? Not -“
“Cali it whatever you’d like, but it’s just reality. Just as these kids are safer with us watching over them, so is the universe.” She winks at Seven. “We make a great team, Seven.”
“I suppose we are,” Seven concedes, gazing at Raffi curiously, thoughtfully. Like things in her brain are shifting around, the puzzle pieces of her adjusting and fitting into their proper frame.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Seven says, waving her hand in the air dismissively, not yet ready to reveal her thoughts. “Nothing. So this…slumber party? You said it has…milkshakes to go along with all this food we cooked for them?” She gestures towards the grills where they’d cooked up hotdogs and hamburgers and fries (there’s some more exotic dishes as well for the remaining non Human members of the crew). All foods they could have replicated, but Raffi had figured the crew would appreciated the smells and just the warmth and joy of having something home cooked after all they’ve been through. And she’d been right judging by their delighted faces.
“It does.”
“Well, then, Commander, can you make me a strawberry one?”
Raffi grins. “For you, my dear Captain? Anything.”
Seven’s deterioration over the next twenty-four hours is nothing short of terrifying.
Where she had been struggling to communicate via her words before, now she’s barely able to keep her eyes open or stay upright or standing for longer than a few minutes at a time. Her usually extraordinary balance is completely shot and the intense headaches she’s getting have caused her to blackout and lose consciousness for big chunks of times on multiple occasions.
Which is why she’s now completely restricted to Sickbay, unable to leave there for fear of a serious complication occurring - or worse - that she won’t have anyone around to help.
The Enterprise is going as fast as she possibly can - screw warp 9, she’s kicking it at warp 9.9 (Raffi really doesn’t care if some stuffy admiral at Starfleet Command wants to scream at her for two hours for ignoring emergency protocols which say she really shouldn’t go past Warp 9 for medical issues; she’ll happily stand still and pretend to listen to that pointless lecture if it gives Seven even thirty minutes more of a chance to survive). Still, it’s hard not to be scared.
Scared that time is running out and they’re going to come up just short.
“Commander, Spacedock is in range,” Sidney tells her. On-screen, they see the image of the beautifully rebuilt Spacedock - the new pride of Starfleet - coming rapidly into view.
“Esmar, patch me through to them,” Raffi directs from her position in the middle seat.
“Yes ma’am.”
The screen blinks on and a Vulcan woman appears. “Commander Musiker,” she greets.
“Actually, Lu, at the moment, Acting Captain Musiker.”
The Vulcan - Lutan - dips her head to the side. “Indeed. I am sorry to hear about your captain’s emergency situation. It came over the wire a short time ago.” She looks down at the panel in front of her. “I have verified for you that medical personnel is standing by to receive her.”
“Thanks, Lu, I appreciate you. When this over, we should get a drink.”
“I believe you owe me five already, Raffaela.” Her eyes flicker to the young man next to Raffi and she says in the same maddeningly dry Vulcan voice. “As does he.”
“You’d never think she was a Vulcan with how well she drinks,” Jack cracks.
“Vulcans will drink you under a table,” Mura mutters.
Raffi points at him in agreement. “When this is over, you and I will definitely get together for something. Promise. For now, Enterprise requesting docking clearance, Commander Lutan.”
“Granted, Acting Captain Musiker. Be well.” The screen goes dark.
Raffi turns to Jack. “Do you think -“
“I think I can take us the rest of the way in.”
“Actually I can,” Sidney comments with a smirk. “Go take care of Captain Seven. We got this.”
“We all got this,” Mura confirms. “Go.”
Raffi nods, stands up. Stops, takes a deep breath, looks around at the crew.
At her and Seven’s crew. Their eyes all on her.
Esmar says, “Bring her back to us, Commander.”
Raffi exhales. “Jack, you have the conn.” And then she turns and leaves the Bridge.
The whole way down to Sickbay, she can feel the ship moving in ways she normally doesn’t. She knows it’s her mind being overactive. Knows it’s her anxiety - already one of her most omnipresent mental issues (few are aware beyond Seven and Starfleet Medical that she has anti anxiety-meds because it’s always been something she’s thought a bit too much shame about - no matter how many times Seven has assured her she has no cause to) bubbling to the surface as she realizes that they’re just about reaching the point of do-or-die on all of this.
Literal do-or-die in this case.
The doors to Sickbay open and she steps in, seeing Ohk already standing over Seven, who is on a portable bio-stretcher, getting her ready for disembarkment. Due to their concerns over the volatility of Seven’s cortical node and the fragility of her brain currently, they’ve opted to bring her off manually instead of by transporter in order to cut down on any complications.
“Everything okay?”
“Just about ready,” Ohk assures her. She at the wall where there’s a countdown timer showing how long until they’re actually docked at the Spacedock: three minutes, six seconds.
“Are they meeting us here or?”
“Here. Beverly is coming on-board immediately to ensure she’s stabilized before we take her off the Enterprise and down the Spacedock elevator to Earth.”
“Need to make sure she can handle the pressure of the drop,” Raffi surmises. She glances down at Seven, frowning in worry when she sees that the blonde is still unconscious. Her fingers stray out, gently tracing over the drawn and heavy lines on Seven’s pale face.
“Exactly,” Ohk acknowledges. “It should be okay, but this surgery is delicate enough -“
“I get it,” Raffi nods, eyes on the clock: one minute, five seconds. “Can this work?”
“The surgery?” Off Raffi’s jerky nods, Ohk sighs and says, “I hope so.”
Raffi nods again, doesn’t say anything, one hand reaching over to pick at her nails.
“Did I ever tell you what I liked most about you when I first met you?”
Raffi chuckles. “No; it’s never come up. Not sure why it is now.”
“Because I think now is exactly when you need to hear this, Commander. The first time I met you was twenty seconds before we stormed the bridge of the Titan and you put your life on the line for a crew that wasn’t yours. But that wasn’t what impressed me about you - I expect that from Starfleet officers; we’re all a little suicidal and sacrificial. What impressed me was how you slipped right into the XO role and knew exactly what Seven needed so that she could have the confidence to lead a crew that at that point was broken and ready to roll over and die.”
Raffi shakes her head. “It’s the job.”
Behind them, they hear the click of the docking clamps as the Enterprise slips into them. It’ll be another close to five minutes before anyone is able to board the ship so neither of them move.
Ohk bobs her head in agreement. “It’s the job. Absolutely it’s the job. You know what isn’t?”
“Sleeping with your captain?” Raffi cracks, because her inappropriate humor does tend to come out at the worst of time - also known as when her anxiety is skyrocketing.
Thankfully, Ohk is one of the few that knows about them and just smirks. “Well, I was going to say throwing a slumber party for a physically and emotionally exhausted crew that just needed to remember what living was like for a night, but I suppose your suggestion is also valid.”
Raffi allows a small chuckle of amusement (and admission) at that, then smiles down at Seven, the smallest hint of sadness lighting in her eyes as she remembers their current situation.
Which is all it takes for Ohk to grow serious again. “My point, Raffi, is that you tend to defer to Seven a lot - give her credit for her leadership and inspirational abilities. All of that is true, but I think it’s time you start seeing what you bring to this ship, to this crew and to Seven. Because I promise you that every crew-member on this ship would tell you that we need both of you.”
“While I…appreciate…why are you telling me this now?” Raffi stammers out. It’s funny, she thinks when it’s later and she has time to consider moments like this, but she’s rarely struggled with compliments in the bedroom or from lovers but often struggled with them from colleagues.
She thinks Deanna would probably tell her that has something to do with having had her career torn away from her because Starfleet had turned its back on her and thought her crazy which had caused her to lose confidence in her instincts and abilities and therefore shun any kind of compliment in the belief they were fake words meant only for placating or nefarious cause.
Or something like that.
“Because this crew has been through a lot. I've been through it with them. But so have you. You’re part of us and not just because of the crew’s loyalty to Seven, but because of their loyalty to you, Raffi. No matter what happens with the captain -“ she holds up her hand to slow the panic she sees blooming in Raffi’s eyes - “I’m not close to giving up and you know I will be there with Beverly doing my best to bring Seven home - but we need you to remember that you matter, too. To this crew. To your family. To Seven. You matter. Okay?”
They hear a whirling sound, then - the telltale sound of the clamps finally closing fully down.
Raffi looks down at Seven, and smiles slightly. “Yeah, okay.”
They hit the wall hard.
Hard enough that Raffi groans, causing Seven to pop her head up from where she’d been occupying herself by ravishing Raffi’s neck, enjoying sucking bruises onto the bronzed skin there (bruises they will certainly use the dermal regenerator to make go away in the morning, but that’s for much, much later). “You okay?” Seven asks breathily, eyes wide. “Your ribs?”
“Ribs are fine,” Raffi assures her and then she’s grabbing Seven by the collar of her field jacket and swinging her towards the bedroom. “But we are both wearing way too many clothes.”
“Yes,” Seven concurs and then she’s stepping away from Raffi, earning a rather loud growl from the taller woman. It’s enough to make Seven chuckle. “Patience,” she counsels, even though she’s not exactly known for her patience in situations like this one. But then, this one really isn’t about that, anyway. And she’s mostly just winding Raffi up because she can. Reaching out, she pushes Raffi’s yellow-lined field jacket off of her shoulders and then immediately attacks the black undershirt. Lifting it up and over Raffi’s head in one fluid moment, her nostrils flare as she’s granted her first real view of Raffi’s body she’s had in ten long, excruciating months (not counting, of course, what she’d seen previously when they’d been in Sickbay together).
Badly bruised from all she has been through since they’d parted, her busted ribs lined with protective gauze to assist in the regenerative process (Seven can see the small silver metal discs with green lights on the hips of the tape - the electromagnetic healing pulses that are going through her body to promote bone healing), Raffi stands proudly, unashamedly in front of her wearing just her many scars, her battle wounds and her Starfleet issue white sports bra.
Seven thinks she’s never seen anyone more stunningly exquisite in all her life.
“So beautiful,” Seven murmurs and then she’s leaning in, cupping the back of Raffi’s neck and drawing her closer and into a passionate kiss. Her hands rise and tangle in Raffi’s sun-kissed curls even as she feels Raffi’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her that much closer.
“Take me to bed, love,” Raffi whispers once the kiss has ended and she’s able to press her lips against Seven’s right ear, teeth trailing against the shell of it, nipping before returning to Seven’s wonderfully lush mouth. She delights in the shiver she feels, enjoys the many curious and unique ways Seven seems to come apart in her hands long before they’ve even gotten close to the part where that’s to be expected. Like putty, Seven becomes malleable and bendable.
And Raffi just can’t stop herself from touching.
Thankfully, neither can Seven.
She feels Seven practically lift her up, their mouths still connected and then Seven is carrying her towards the bedroom, pushing through the door and into the room. Raffi has the briefest moment to think about how Seven has still managed to not concede her lips, but then she’s being dumped on the mattress and Seven is over her and pressing her mouth into Raffi’s neck.
Raffi groans and lifts her hand, weaving it into Seven’s thick blonde locks.
Remembering how frenetic and tactile Seven can get when she’s in certain headspaces.
Loss. Fear. Pain. Hope. Survival. Affection. Love.
Raffi exhales, whispers, “Seven.”
“Again.”
Raffi blinks. “What?”
Seven doesn’t look up, but says from where she continues to nibble at Raffi’s neck. “My name.”
And Raffi remembers, then. Remembers vaguely hearing Seven having been called “Hansen” when she’d come aboard. Too much had been going on for her to focus on it. Too much had been happening for her to think on it or push Seven for why she had allowed it, but this moment tells her what she needs to know. She thinks she could -maybe even should - just let it pass without mention. Just repeat Seven’s name, finish stripping and and get on with it, but -
But that’s just not them.
“Wait. Seven, babe, wait.” Raffi very gently extends her hand, placing it on the front of Seven’s chest to push her back. “Your name. Why did you -“
“Never again,” Seven says vehemently and then leans in and captures Raffi’s mouth anew.
“You know who you are?” Raffi pushes, biting her lower lip, because suddenly it matters.
“I know who I am,” Seven confirms, a growl in her voice. “I’m Seven. Always Seven.”
“Yes.”
And Raffi decides that that’s enough said about that and lets Seven push her back down.
The touches become more heated from there, more demanding and insistent. Needier. The rest of their clothes are shed and then Seven is pressing into her, driving into her and she’s crying out even as her teeth sink into Seven’s shoulder as Seven is telling her to “just let go”.
When the white in Raffi’s vision fades back to color and Seven finally flops over on her back, Raffi barely gives her a moment before she’s atop her, kissing down her, mouth on her breasts.
“Wait…wait…Raff…Raff…need to catch…”
“Oh, no, no, you’ve been too starship pampered. Gotta wake my woman up and pay her back after that,” Raffi teases and then she’s continuing her descent, stopping only to drop a line of open-mouth kisses along Seven’s metal meets flesh hipbone, running her tongue over an area she remembers being especially sensitive. She lets out a decidedly un-Raffi like giggle when she hears Seven inhale sharply at the sensation, the blonde’s body arching off the mattress.
“Stop teasing, Raff. Please."
“Oh, but, I like teasing you,” Raffi says as she nips the patch on Seven’s hip that merges skin and metal. “But you’re right; it’s been too long since I’ve gotten to feel you come apart under me and I really, do want to hear you scream my name. So let’s save the teasing for round two."
She gets what she wants a few seconds later - a wonderfully raw sound even as Seven’s fingers dig into her hair and her mouth works to pull every last bit of pleasure from Seven’s body. When it’s over and Seven slumps bonelessly into the mattress, blue eyes so very bright, Raffi laughs.
“What?” Seven asks, her hand reaching up to run up and down Raffi’s toned arm.
“Sometimes, I’m amazed at my life.”
“Which part? Taking on the Borg or sleeping with the Borg?” Seven asks, typically self-depreciatingly, even now, even after all she’s done, still unable to quite cut herself full slack.
“Look, honey, if the Borg can fuck like that -“
Seven slaps her shoulder. “Gods, I missed you.”
Raffi leans down and kisses her again. “I missed you, too. More than you know.” Her hand runs across Seven’s cheek, fingers tracing her cheekbones. “But it looks like you found your place.”
“Yeah?” Seven props herself up on her elbow. She moves the sheet up so it’s over her chest. Not because she’s modest but because this kind of conversation seems a bit odd when you’re in a state of undress that could very rapidly return to something far less intellectual rapidly.
“You have doubts?”
“I have on more than a few occasions. Shaw and I…rarely saw eye to eye.” She frowns as she thinks about him dying in her arms, his last breaths ghosting out across her fingers and then his eyes glazing over as the life had leaked from a body that minutes earlier had been full of it.
“I’m sorry,” Raffi tells her, fingers tangling with hers.
Seven chuckles humorlessly. “And yet you understand, don’t you?”
“That even though you couldn’t stand the man because he was a terrible bully to you, he was still your captain and he died on your watch? Yeah. I get it. Duty is complicated. So is honor.”
“Yeah,” Seven agrees. Then suddenly smiles. And laughs. A truly stunning look on the woman. “Which reminds me, I understand you’ve taken to the Klingon form of honor as of late.”
“Oh, don’t get me started. Worf has had me training around the clock. Five times a day. Until every muscle in my body is burning and I’m dreaming about his stupid Klingon sayings.”
Seven shrugs. “I think it’s a good thing. And…” she leans down and brushes a line of open mouthed kisses across Raffi’s very well defined ab line. “Very, very hot.”
“Really? Hot, you say? I can live with that.”
Seven leans up and kisses her mouth. “Hot.” Kisses her again. “Brilliant.” Kisses her once more. “Courageous.” And again. “Fierce.” Again. “Loyal.” Again. “Truly the best person I’ve ever met.”
“You should check out a mirror one of these days, lover,” Raffi tells her, nipping her lower lip.
Seven shakes her head, suddenly looking very intense in a way that is uniquely Seven. “No, Raffi, I’m serious. You never give yourself enough credit and that needs to end. None of us would be alive if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t be alive. The whole goddamned fleet would be lost.”
“You would have found a way -“
“No. I can’t do -“ Seven stops, pulls her thoughts together. “When we were back in 2024, you told me to stop running from my past. You asked me if I knew how much I could be if I did. You looked me in the eye and called me extraordinary, which…I’m just Seven. Just…Seven. But you…you see something in me. And not because I’m superhuman or whatever, but because -“
“Because you’re Seven,” Raffi says, fingers tracing across the blonde’s ocular implant.
“Yeah, and that actually means something special to you.”
“Because you do,” Raffi confirms warmly, her hazel eyes alight with an almost indescribable amount of affection and adoration for the blonde acting captain. “You matter to me.”
“And you matter to me. And today, you mattered to everyone on this ship who has spent the last week going through pure Hell. Without you, none of us see the end of this day. And without you, none of those kids currently sleeping up in the Mess gets to end this otherwise terrible day laughing instead of crying about everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve lost.”
“You would have figured something out,” Raffi insists again.
With a low growl, Seven pushes Raffi fully onto her back, straddling her. “Maybe I would have or maybe I wouldn’t have, but it wouldn’t have made the same impact as what you did today. It wouldn’t have touched people the way you do. That’s your gift, Raffi. You make people feel good even on the worst days of their lives. Do you understand how extraordinary that is? You say that I matter to you?” She cups Raffi’s face, thumbs stroking her cheeks just before she leans in and presses her lips again to Raffi’s before whispering, “Well you matter. To me.”
“Well, then, don’t let me go again,” Raffi murmurs, hands settling over Seven’s.
Seven looks at her for a long minute, blue eyes so intense that they seem to shatter Raffi’s soul and rebuild it all in the same penetrating gaze. “No, never again.”
The pre-surgery tests have all been completed and all that’s left now is to wheel Seven into the surgical theatre where the operation will take place. No one is quite sure how long it will take or even how involved it will be; simulations had ranged all over the place and well..this is the first time this has ever actually been tried on a living subject. Everyone is a little nervous, honestly.
Raffi is terrified.
This isn’t just a failed case study for her, this is the love of her life.
This is Seven, the woman whose back she’s always had (and who in return has always had her back) and yet right now, in this horrifying moment, she’s helpless to do anything to save her.
“Raffi,” she hears. She looks up to see Beverly Crusher approaching, a soft smile on her unpainted lips. “I assume you’d like to see Seven before we take her in for surgery?”
“Please?”
“Go on,” Beverly says, gesturing to the white doors on the other side of the room.
Raffi nods and crosses over, passing through the doors and into the room where they’d been prepping Seven for surgery. She spots her immediately, sitting up on a raised temporary bio-bed. Several colorful blinking metal diodes have already been attached across her body, all to monitor different vital signs and to track her implants and any signals from them. Her hands show the signs of prep for the IVs that will be run in through the surgical bio-bed once she’s moved into it inside the theatre. Her long blonde hair has been pulled back to allow access to her forehead so that the failed cortical node can be removed. They hope to be able to run the surgical robot up through the port and into her brain and not have to cut further into the scalp and possibly skull as far as the planned rerouting, but there is the possibility of that.
That’s Plan B.
No one really wants to talk about Plan B.
“Hi,” Raffi says as she approaches.
Seven offers her a weary smile, the exhaustion and tension clear in her eyes. She’s trying to mask her fear, but the breakdown in her mind has entirely shattered her protective devices.
“I know you can’t…I know you can’t,” Raffi tells her, understanding that Seven can’t really communicate at all at this point - over the last few hours, the blonde xB has entirely lost the ability to talk or even write, much to the horror of all of them - “But we both know I can do that enough for both of us so it’s okay. Look, Seven, they’re about to take you in I need you to be strong, my love. Stronger than you’ve ever been. And I’ll be the same out here for you. I need you to come back to me. You promised you’d never let me go. Well, I’m not letting you go.”
Jerkily, her hand trembling, Seven reaches out for Raffi. Raffi’s response is immediate; she reaches across and encloses Seven’s left hand in both of hers, calming the violent shudders.
“I’m not,” Raffi says again and brings Seven’s hand to her mouth, gently kissing it.
Behind her, she hears footsteps. “I’m sorry,” she hears Beverly murmur and knows it’s time.
“I have to let them have you now,” Raffi tells her. “But you’re coming back to me.”
She feels Seven squeeze her hands; it’s not strong, but it’s there. And then Seven’s pulling her hand (a strange thing, Raffi thinks) and lifting it towards her face, like she has an itch. But it goes beyond her mouth, cheek and nose and heads towards her eyes. And then…points.
It takes Raffi embarrassingly long, especially for a former Intelligence Operative, but then like most patterns, the strange little dashes and lines start forming a story and then a narrative.
Or in this case, a simple declaration from those beautifully expressive eyes she loves so much.
“Dot-Dot, Dot-Dash-Dot-Dot, Dash-Dash-Dash, Dot-Dot-Dot-“
Raffi stops, her own eyes blown wide in shock.
“Seven.”
And then she’s leaning across and pulling Seven into her arms. Just holding her close.
Feeling their hearts beating together.
“I love you, too,” Raffi whispers. Then leans up, kisses Seven lightly on the forehead right above where the cortical node is and holds it there. “See you in a few hours, sweetheart.”
Reluctantly, heavily, she steps back and out of Seven’s eyeliner, and nods jerkily to Beverly.
“Seven is a fighter. Have faith,” Beverly tells her as they watch nurses move over to Seven and start prepping her to be moved into the surgical theatre by settling her into the bed.
“I know,” Raffi acknowledges, her eyes still on Seven even though she knows Seven can’t see her. “Bev,” she says, catching the doctor’s arm. “Seven, doesn’t want -“ her voice trails off.
“I know. Her DNR was fairly explicit. She doesn’t want you to have to make that call.”
“But promise me you won’t give up on her unless…”
“You have my word. My son is quite of fond of both of you and for that matter, so am. I have every intention of winning this battle and getting the two of you back home on the Enterprise where you belong,” Beverly assures her, reaching out to gently touch Raffi’s hand in support.
A moment later, she’s signaling to the nurses and then they’re wheeling Seven through the doors and Raffi’s trying not to feel like her heart is dropping out of her chest.
Trying not to be terrified that she’s just seen her blonde lover alive for the last time.
She doesn’t want to imagine a future without Seven in it, refuses to imagine it.
Is none the less scared out of her brilliant mind that she’ll be forced to live it.
She’s not a particularly religious woman - perhaps she’s a spiritual one, willing to believe in the existence of powers beyond understanding if not necessarily a specific higher being - but she does believe in energy and she thinks she believes in the idea of karma and hopes after all she and Seven have tried to do to protect and serve even at the cost of themselves, maybe just once the universe might be willing to step in and show some kindness to one of their warriors.
So Raffi closes her eyes and she inhales deeply and exhales just as fully and simply says:
“Please.”
TBC. ;D