AN: Here's a second little piece to this story. I hope that some of you are enjoying this, because I'm super excited about it! I'm loving it so much!

I'm going to give the disclaimer that I'm going to be taking some liberties and playing around in this universe, but I hope that nothing I do bothers anyone!

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

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Seven was very rarely entirely calm, and Raffi accepted that—she had even come to love that, to some degree, about Seven, though it made her treasure, even more, the moments when she was able to help to unknot the threads and to coax Seven into complete relaxation.

She had accepted, from the moment that she'd stirred from sleep, that this morning was not going to be one of those days.

From the moment that they'd met with the first doctor on the research team that would be analyzing their case for a study that they were doing, and they had told him that Seven would be the one who would be carrying their embryos, Raffi had failed to be something of a person-of-interest. She accepted that without protest and slid gracefully into her new primary role as supporter. She watched and offered support as Seven handed over, without protest, a sample of nearly everything she possibly could from her body. She underwent imaging and study by a series of hands that moved in and out, all making notes in their PADDs.

Research Hospitals were, in most places, the only types of establishments available to the citizens. They were wonderful. Their equipment was state-of-the-art. Their techniques were never short of cutting-edge. Their care was the best that you could get, and most things that had once been thought of as "emergencies" were now no more than what head colds had historically been. For all that, though, Raffi sometimes wondered if they all suffered a little from almost automatically becoming something of a case number—a person who was reduced to a data table and studied for interest and their potential to further the pursuit of knowledge and the perfection of science.

It had never bothered Raffi before, admittedly, but it tugged somewhere in her gut to feel like Seven—her Seven—was being reduced, right before her eyes, to barely more than an anomaly to be studied by interested eyes.

Raffi didn't say that—any of that—to Seven when they were left alone, finally, to wait for their final consultation.

Raffi had been careful to seat herself so that the hand she took when she stretched out her hand and sought Seven's—pretending to seek comfort, but really intending to offer it—was the hand that didn't still remind Seven of her time with the Borg. Raffi had touched that hand. She'd felt the metallic cold of the Borg implants. She'd felt them warm beneath her touch. She'd ghosted her fingertips over wires and metal. She'd felt that hand trail over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake the same as the other. Still, Seven somehow feared she would find she was averse to it—averse to its touch and, consequently, to her touch.

Today was not the day to dance with more demons than was necessary.

Raffi squeezed the hand that wouldn't bring up any more feelings than were already churning just below the surface for Seven.

The door hissed open and the youngest medical worker that they'd seen today stepped into the examination room. Seven readjusted the teal medical gown to maintain her modesty—not that anything had been revealed to the man. Of course, she'd already been forced to show every square inch of herself to several people, several times over and, Raffi knew, that she'd subject herself to that again should that be what this young man was seeking.

He looked up from his PADD as he stepped in, already speaking.

"Mrs…Annika Musiker…" He said, drawing the name out. It was still something of a shock to the system to hear Seven's actual legal name. She preferred not to use it, and Raffi respected that—most people did. Still, when they'd married, she'd insisted on making the change. She was never fully comfortable with any of her former selves—human or Borg—but she said that taking Raffi's name allowed her to decide something about her identity. She was happy, however, to simply provide her name as Seven Musiker for most situations.

Raffi felt herself bristle upon hearing the name.

"It's been entered into her file multiple that she prefers Seven Musiker."

The outburst was, perhaps, louder and sharper than she'd planned for it to be. Raffi understood that just a name could be triggering, and she didn't want that for Seven—especially not today.

The young doctor's head snapped up from his PADD. He'd been distracted by his files, and he hadn't even actually seen either of them until that moment. Until that moment, neither of them had been more than a name in the research file that was being shared among all the members of the research team that was handling their case—this was, after all, still considered to be experimental, and part of their contribution to society was allowing their experience to be carefully documented and shared with the greatest minds, and up-and-coming minds, in science and medicine.

"You're Borg," he said, reality settling over him as he took in the image of Seven, in her teal hospital gown, sitting next to Raffi on the exam table while Raffi attempted to simply offer whatever support and comfort she could. Immediately, he seemed to realize his mistake, and he spluttered a sort of apology that went mostly unheard. It was too late. The damage had been done, and maybe he could see that on Raffi's face—if not on Seven's face. Raffi glanced at Seven. She'd almost perfected the stony, stoic expression she tried to paste on, but Raffi could see through it. She squeezed Seven's hand, and she was silently thankful for the gentle squeeze she received in return.

"Did you need something?" Seven asked, collecting herself quickly. There was the slightest tremor to her voice, but only Raffi would notice it.

"I'm sorry, he said. "I was only coming to inform you that, because of some unforeseen scheduling conflicts, it's going to be a little longer wait for you than was originally anticipated. But—someone will be with you as soon as possible."

He checked his PADD again, probably more for a reason to look away than for any actual information that he might find there that would have appeared in the last few seconds, and he took the half-hearted thanks that he was given as he backed out of the room.

He was nothing but a grunt doing grunt's work, but the damage had been done. Left alone, once again, in the silence of the examination room, Raffi could practically hear the sound of the wheels turning in Seven's mind. She tensed, searching for something that might break the tension.

Raffi squeezed Seven's hand and laughed nervously.

"This is the last part of the appointment," she said. "As soon as we're done here, we'll go get some ice cream."

Seven looked at her, brow-furrowed, and frowned.

"Do you have some preoccupation with dessert?" Seven asked. There was a touch of emotion there that might have been offense, but Raffi didn't take it personally. She laughed quietly in response. She patted Seven's hand with the hand that wasn't currently holding to her already.

"Don't worry about it," Raffi dismissed. She could tell that Seven was worried, but she doubted that ice cream was what was causing the feeling. After a moment, Seven broke the silence that had settled around them again.

"It's likely a problem with the anatomy scan," she said somewhat somberly. "The Doctor did the best that he could when he removed the Borg implants. However, he did explain that being assimilated at such a young age did mean that they were very thoroughly incorporated into nearly all the organs and systems of my human body. I've undergone treatment for the scar tissue with the Doctor since he's been able to update his programs with the new technology available, but it's almost impossible to undo all the damage that was done."

Raffi listened to the clinical explanation, and recognized the spiral that was beginning. She was able to stop it before it got too steep.

"He said it was a scheduling issue and—besides—nobody said anything after we both underwent the preliminary physical examinations to move forward with this."

Seven looked like she was biting back more emotion than usual.

"They would use scheduling as an obvious cover to buy time while they decide how to present the pertinent information. The anatomy scans done today, and my physical examination from this morning, were much more thorough than anything I've undergone prior. It's reasonable that nothing was said previously because no medical personnel could believe that I would be foolish enough to believe that I was the best suited for this role."

Raffi reached her hand across and squeezed Seven's shoulder in response.

"Why don't we just wait and see what's actually going on. It may just be a scheduling error that's causing a delay, Seven."

"I do not require that you placate me," Seven snapped.

Raffi might have continued to argue, but by the grace of some controlling powers in the universe, the door slid open and their discussion was interrupted as someone else joined them.

This time it was not the young man who had foolishly brought up Seven's condition as a former member of the Borg collective. Instead, it was someone that Raffi was relieve to see—someone that was a familiar face for Seven, and a soothing one at that.

The Emergency Medical Hologram—the Doctor, as Seven and everyone else called him—smiled when he took in the two of them.

Without being asked, Raffi hopped down from the spot she'd taken on the examination table, and she accepted the EMH's hand as he stretched it out in her direction. If she hadn't known he was a hologram—and a very advanced one of those—she never would have known that the man in front of her wasn't a real man. He moved immediately from shaking her hand to embracing Seven's hand familiarly.

He smiled at her, and Raffi knew that the smile was genuine. The EMH had emotional subroutines and, though he might have once lacked the ability to feel exactly as humans did—and even though his emotions might now be still somewhat different than those of flesh and blood sentient beings—he had the ability to feel in his own way. Raffi knew that he felt genuine affection for Seven, and she felt the same for him—just as she did for all of her Voyager family.

"Seven," he said, "I almost didn't recognize your name. When Annika Musiker showed up in my appointments, I had to keep reading your details to find out that it was you who had requested my services."

Though they were being cared for by an entire team of physicians thanks to the research nature of this adventure, Seven had been allowed to request her own personal physician. She had explained to Raffi, while filling out the paperwork, that she was choosing the EMH because he was able to be always abreast of the very latest in research and technology. Though that was, without a doubt, true, Raffi knew that the real reason that Seven was choosing him was because she was comfortable with him, and that comfort would be important if she were going to be the vessel by which their family was brought into creation.

Raffi didn't let Seven know that she knew what Seven wasn't saying, though—just in case Seven didn't understand all the reasons she might subconsciously do things.

"Seven Musiker," Seven said, with no bite or hurt to the correction. "Please—I want to be addressed as Seven Musiker."

"Musiker," the EMH mused. He looked at Raffi. They'd met once or twice before. He smiled at her. "Am I to assume that means…?"

"We married," Raffi offered. She saw an expression cross his features. "Eloped," she amended quickly, hoping that his feelings—however real or synthetic they may be—weren't hurt. "We married in private. We didn't make it a big thing."

"It still should be celebrated," the Doctor said.

"Maybe we will…" Seven said. Raffi felt almost like she'd been splashed with ice water, but in a good way. If Seven wanted a party of some sort, she'd be thrilled to celebrate their marriage. She hadn't pressed before, because Seven had declared she didn't want to make a show over such things. If she wanted a show now, Raffi would be happy to let her have the whole shebang.

"The last time I saw you was a celebration, now that I think of it. The anniversary of Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay."

Seven laughed. Her laugh was almost musical. Raffi's heart picked up its pace just to hear it. She was thankful every time she earned that laugh from Seven, and she was grateful to anyone or anything else that provided her with enough happiness to solicit it.

"Admiral Janeway," Seven said. "And Captain Chakotay."

"They'll always be Captain and Commander to me," the EMH said.

"Then, you may need to see B'Elanna about updating your subroutines, Doctor," Seven teased. The Doctor looked amused.

"She has been working very closely with this project, actually," the Doctor said. "She's been responsible for a great deal of the expansion of my program for this and for my other endeavors. She has really worked wonders with patches and extensions."

"She has never had a problem making any program work before," Seven said. "And, now, she has a lot more to work with than what the Delta Quadrant had to offer. I haven't seen her in some time. Is she well?"

"She is," the Doctor said. "Have you met Owen? Their son?"

Seven shook her head.

"They had Miral at the party, but…"

"They have had another blessed arrival since then," the Doctor said. "A son. I suppose each year is marked with a number of great events for everyone. Speaking of great events…Seven Musiker…married and now—you're taking part in one of our studies on same-sex embryo formation and implantation." Both Raffi and Seven simply nodded, nearly in unison. "We've had great success so far with the practice."

"We're hoping to add to those numbers," Raffi said.

"I'm sure you will," the Doctor said. He turned to studying his PADD. For a moment, he droned on about his research and his classes at the Academy. He caught Seven up to date on some of the people she'd known on Voyager, and Raffi let her mind wander to the fact that, maybe, Seven had been away from her friends—her family—too long. Missions and a new relationship had kept her busy, but maybe it was time for Raffi to insist that they get to spend some time with the people she knew Seven cared for a great deal.

Raffi was drawn back to the moment at hand when Seven, having found her hand, squeezed her fingers. Raffi's heart skipped a beat as her consciousness settled back into the conversation.

"Everything looks really wonderful," the Doctor said. "The scar tissue is nearly gone after your last treatment, and the healing you've undergone is incredible. There is no need for an additional physical examination at this time, though we will re-examine you when you come in for the implantation procedure. The examination is merely a formality."

"Is there any reason to believe that I would be unsuccessful in completing gestation?"

"There's no reason to believe that at all," the Doctor said. "In fact, you may be better suited for gestation than a number of my patients."

Seven squeezed Raffi's hand again, and she sat up a little taller on the examination table.

The Doctor called a nurse into the room, and she brought him a small tray of hyposprays. Raffi wasn't sure if she squeezed Seven's hand first, or if Seven squeezed hers again.

"The start of the treatment, of course, is a two-week course of hormone therapy," the Doctor was explaining, though Raffi almost felt like she was listening to him through water. "You will be provided prescriptions for your replicators that will produce hyposprays for a specially formulated pre-natal vitamin cocktail and a carefully curated hormone treatment. We'll provide you with the information on a PADD for everything you need to know about the side-effects and expectations of the hormone therapy, but you can always contact us with any questions. You'll be asked to keep a diary of your experiences for the research team. At the end of the period, you will return for the implantation of the embryo, and then we'll begin the next phase of the project. Do you have any questions?"

Raffi would have assumed that she and Seven would both be brimming with questions. However, when it came down to it, it seemed that neither of them could think of a thing to ask. At least, she knew, they could contact the team at any time to ask questions. The Doctor, as Seven's personal physician, would be available to her any time that she might have a concern during the run of things.

"When do we start?" Raffi asked, working Seven's fingers in hers.

"I will administer the first doses of each now," the doctor said. "This is the vitamin cocktail. It's recommended that you eat shortly before or shortly after each dose, and that you take both prescribed hyposprays at the same time. Have you eaten recently?"

Seven shook her head.

"We'll eat as soon as we leave," Raffi interjected. She realized her voice was a little faster and a little higher than she'd intended. She wondered if anyone had noticed. She felt her cheeks grow warm.

"Very well," the Doctor said. "See that you don't put it off too long. This is known to cause nausea. He pressed the hypospray to Seven's neck. She made no complaint. In fact, she said nothing at all. The only proof that Raffi had that she was fully awake and aware were the little messages that she seemed to be sending her by responding to her squeezing and hold-holding. It felt almost as if they were speaking in their own form of tactile morse code.

"Are you OK?" Raffi asked quietly, practically breathing out the words.

"Do you want me to stop?" The Doctor asked, immediately looking concerned.

"Please—no—Doctor," Seven said quickly. "Proceed."

The Doctor looked in Raffi's direction, and Raffi nodded her head quickly.

"Very well," he said. "This is the first dose of the hormone therapy. When you pick up your PADD at the front desk, you will be given the prescriptions for both. You can program them into your replicator. You will take these at eight-hour intervals as prescribed."

They both thanked him for his help. After he administered the second hypospray, he repeated his earlier instructions, and he embraced both Seven and Raffi with a familiarity that demonstrated that his emotional and social subroutines had likely been tinkered with since the last time they'd seen each other.

After he left, Seven dressed in silence. Raffi found the silence comfortable, and she didn't think that Seven required her to break it. When they left the examination room, a nurse showed them to the front desk. At the front desk, they received the date and time of their next appointment. They received a PADD with information and instructions, and then they left the building—stepping out into sunshine to walk a while instead of immediately transporting from the hospital to their home.

"Well?" Raffi asked, slipping her arm through Seven's as they started walking. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking?"

Seven looked at her, and she gave her a soft smile. She raised her eyebrows.

"Didn't you mention ice cream?" Seven asked.

Raffi laughed.

"Absolutely," she said. "There's a great place just around the corner up there—and the taco place next to it isn't bad either."