AN: Here's another piece to this story!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

Raffi was almost certain that being split from navel to chin with a Klingon bat'leth would hurt less than simply seeing the expression on Seven's face as she held their daughter's little hand in hers while the baby girl nursed.

"She's beautiful," Raffi said. "Perfect." It was starting to feel like a mantra. Crusher had been reciting it, too, as she'd worked with Seven to get Aurora nursing happily.

They had explained the tape over her hand, the fact that B'Elanna was creating a much more functional glove for her that would do the same job, and the fact that, though she was handing out a few "love bites" when she was able to do so, her nanoprobe count was low enough that there had been no harm done. Crusher had gone so far as to explain all of this in a tone that made it truly sound like nothing more than the routine things that everyone dealt with when welcoming their newborns into the world.

Still, Seven looked like she was wearing an anvil around her neck, and Raffi thought she understood her, at least a little.

"She's Borg," Seven said. It was not the first time she'd said it, but she was clearly having trouble digesting that fact about their newborn.

"So are you," Raffi offered. "And I adore you, Seven."

Seven looked at her with damp eyes.

"We did not realize that I could possibly pass this to our daughter in this way," Seven said. "Being Borg is—not genetic."

"It wasn't," Raffi said. "At least—not that we knew of, but…Seven…Rori is a quarter-Borg. At the most, she's half-Borg. And, no matter what, she's perfect."

"If you had carried her…"

"We don't know that things would have been any different," Raffi said. "Nobody can say they would have been any different."

"I believe it would be best if you carried any of our future children," Seven said. "If there are even to be future children."

Raffi laughed nervously. She heard the shakiness of her own voice. She purposefully took a breath, held it, and let it out. She needed to steady herself. Seven needed to pull from her strength, and Raffi wouldn't let herself let Seven down.

Raffi reached and took Seven's hand in hers. The baby's hand, freed from her mother's grasp, stretched out. Her little fingers flexed wide and then curled again as she brought her hand against her mother's breast while she nursed.

Raffi worked Seven's hand in hers.

"Seven—Sweetheart—listen to me," Raffi said. She put on the best smile she could and shook her head gently at Seven's tearful eyes. "Nothing has changed. I know it feels like a lot has changed, but it hasn't. You and me? We're—we're rock-solid, Baby. Nothing's shaking this. And our perfect, perfect baby girl is a blessing. And it's still possible for her to have a little brother or sister that's…wonderful, just like her."

Seven laughed, but it wasn't the kind of laugh that could be believed.

"You mean create more Borg," Seven said.

"Fine. Sure. More Borg. That's what I mean," Raffi said. She felt herself tense. She felt the muscles in her back tense. She willed them to relax. "More members of our family—half me and half you."

"The Musiker Collective was an endearing term, Raffi, until it started to become a very real possibility," Seven said.

"I meant it then, and I mean it now," Raffi said, shaking her head gently. "Seven—a lot of brand-new mothers go through this…"

"Their babies are born Borg?" Seven asked.

"No," Raffi said, "but their babies are born…different than how they expected." Raffi patted Seven's hand and then squeezed it again. "We had a vision of her, Seven. I did, and you did, too. You believed she would be something specific. She would look a certain way. She would be a certain way. It's only natural, Seven. Everyone does it. And—she's a little different than we imagined, but different isn't bad. It's OK if you're feeling a little sad. It's OK if you need to mourn who you thought she would be. That's fine. We can do that, and still love her for exactly who she is." Raffi reached her hand and touched Seven's face. She brushed her fingers lightly over Seven's ocular implant. She let her fingers trail down to touch Seven's chin, keeping her from turning her head away. The smile that Raffi wanted to offer her came easier, now. "You are tired, Seven. You have just given birth. I know you don't want me to say it, but you're tired and your hormones are making your feelings go everywhere…"

"I don't want her to deal with all the bad…I don't want her to know all of that," Seven said.

Raffi didn't let the smile she offered Seven fade too much.

"We all know bad, Seven. Some of us know more bad than others. We may want to protect Rori from that, but we can't. The best we can do is prepare her to handle the bad in a way that makes it just something that happens—something she can handle. We'll teach Rori who she is, and we'll make her so confident in knowing who she is, that she won't believe anyone else when they try to tell her who she is to them—not unless they think she's as wonderful as her family does."

Seven smiled slightly, and Raffi let her turn her attention back to the baby who was finishing her meal. Without her having to ask, Raffi helped Seven move the baby into position to burp her. For a moment, they were able to forget that their baby girl was unexpectedly visibly Borg. For just a moment, they were able to focus on the magic of a first-moment with the little one. Together, they coaxed her to burp, and Raffi wiped her with a cloth when she spit up a bit. The action made Rori start to fuss, and Seven instinctively hugged the baby girl against her, cooing out sounds of comfort and reassurance.

"You're already a wonderful Mama," Raffi assured Seven.

"I love her," Seven said. "Please, Raf…don't think that I don't love her."

Raffi laughed to herself.

"You are so tired, Seven," Raffi said. She reached and rubbed Seven's back and shoulder. "You're exhausted. You need to rest. The whole world is going to look different if you'll just let me hold her for a bit, and you get a little sleep. Seven—of course, I know you love her. You're her Mama. You're going to love her like nobody else ever can."

"Except you," Seven said, wiping at her face with her hand. Raffi quickly offered her tissues to mop at her eyes and nose.

"I will always love her unconditionally," Raffi assured Seven, though she couldn't tell if Seven had actually asked a question or simply made a statement. The fatigue in her voice made her words a bit elongated and slurred. She needed some time resting her human body while her Borg implants recharged via the portable generator that she would be using just until they felt she was ready to go back into her chamber.

"I did want her to have a little brother or sister," Seven said, leaning back. Raffi wondered if she might actually go to sleep. She decided that she would let her hold the baby until she was ready to relinquish her or she actually fell asleep.

Raffi sat on the side of the bed next to Seven.

"And she will," Raffi assured her. "Whenever you're ready, Seven. That hasn't changed."

Seven laughed to herself. Her eyelids sagged just slightly.

"It's changed a great deal, Raffi. Why can't you understand that? They're not going to allow me to do this again." Seven tensed and sat up just a bit, waking once more from any near-slumber she'd reached. "In fact, I'm terrified of what they'll do to her, Raffi."

"Hey!" Raffi said quickly and a little loudly. Seven soothed the baby who hadn't expected the sound and was less accustomed to such things as those who were used to being in the world. "Nobody's doing anything to Rori. Her Aunt B'Elanna is making her a little glove and a little regeneration unit. And her mémé is going to take care of the rest."

"The anthropologists…" Seven said.

"Will have to go through…through Kathryn Janeway, and Jean-Luc Picard, and Chakotay, and Beverly Crusher, and Tom Paris, and B'Elanna Torres-Paris, and…even a Talaxian who looks like he's probably got a few tricks up his sleeve. Even Riker and Troi. And, then, if they made it that far? They'd have to get through Kaya, and Miral, and Naomi Wildman. They'd have to walk through Elnor and, possibly, the rest of the Qowat Milat, if he could get them here. And, then, Seven…they would realize that they hadn't even met the worst of it, because they'd still have to get through both of us to get to her. And—let me tell you—if they think our Baby Borg is scary, I don't think they want to see Mama defending her."

Seven laughed and Raffi's heart ached with how happy she felt to simply hear her relaxing a little and laughing a touch more genuinely.

"She really is beautiful," Seven said.

"She is absolutely beautiful," Raffi said.

"She looks a lot like you," Seven offered. "I mean—with the exception of the implants."

Raffi laughed.

"I think she looks like you," she countered. "And I think that only makes her more beautiful."

"You know that—there's going to be a lot of…negativity," Seven said.

"We anticipate that," Raffi agreed. "I think Crusher has a plan, so you shouldn't worry about it."

"What plan can she possibly have, Raffi?" Seven asked.

"A damn good one, I'd bet," Raffi offered. "And if she doesn't, she won't rest until she does."

"We're outsiders," Seven said. "Borg are not Federation members."

"But xBs are accepted," Raffi said.

"As refugees, essentially," Seven countered.

"We've always been a little on the outside—you and me. Elnor. The Musiker Collective, right? It's only natural that Rori joins us. It's not that bad being on the outer edge, is it?"

"I didn't want that for her," Seven said.

"We don't know what the future holds, Seven."

"And when she…gets excited in nursery and assimilates Owen Torres-Paris?" Seven asked.

Raffi laughed quietly. Seven looked offended.

"Raffi! Our daughter creating her own collective is not something to laugh at!" Seven scolded.

"Seven—she's hardly becoming the Borg Queen," Raffi said. "She couldn't even assimilate Crusher or me. She doesn't have very many nanoprobes, and the ones she has are…what? Weak? Disorganized. They don't know how to assimilate."

"She is Borg. She will adapt," Seven said.

"And so will we," Raffi countered.

"You're not worried?" Seven asked.

"I am," Raffi said. "But—I know that you won't be able to keep from worrying, and I know that one of us has to balance the other out, right now, so I'm just going to be Zen about this and accept that we'll figure this out, Seven, just like we do everything else." Raffi leaned and kissed Seven. A little to Raffi's surprise, Seven returned it with palpable feeling behind it. Raffi smiled at her when the kiss broke, and Seven mirrored the smile, though with a touch less confidence than Raffi was putting behind her own smile. "Besides—more than being worried, I'm happy. My wife is a little tired, but healthy. And our daughter, Seven…"

Seven's smile grew, and she laughed quietly.

"Is perfect," Seven offered, echoing what she'd been told a thousand time since Aurora's birth.

"You're damned right she is," Raffi said. "Now—I can't hold back everyone that wants to see her for much longer. So—how about you let me hold her a little bit, and you close your eyes and take a nap?"

"You're not going to let everyone see her, are you? Not until we've discussed what we're going to say."

"Just family," Raffi assured her. "I promise. Rest, Seven."

"Raffi," Seven said, relinquishing the baby to Raffi's arms. Raffi hummed at her. "I love you."

Raffi smiled at her.

"I love you, too," she assured her. "Sweet dreams. Get some sleep. We'll be right here when you wake up."