AN: Here we are, another piece to this story.

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

111

On the Soñador, Raffi and Seven were escorted to Admiral Janeway's office, where they met with B'Elanna and Admiral Janeway. They would be leaving soon, and the finishing touches were being done to the ship to get it ready for the first leg of the mission. As they'd walked the corridors, Seven had done her best to focus on how nice the ship looked—how clean, fresh, and new everything was. She'd done her best to focus on anything and everything positive—and not the strange hollowness she felt inside herself, like an embryo she'd only carried for less than a week, and which had been small enough that she hadn't missed it when it had left her, could leave a hole inside of her.

By the time they reached Admiral Janeway's office, and Kathryn Janeway had given them both the order to be at ease—even though Seven wasn't, technically, subject to Starfleet rules, regulations, and decorum in the same way that her wife was—Seven felt a little more hopeful about everything, and a little less like there was a sucking hole inside of her. At the very least, she was already learning how to look away from the sucking hole toward the positive things the future promised to hold. She was already figuring out how to focus on the little baby that was, at that very moment, doing the hard work of growing into a baby that would join them in approximately thirty-nine weeks. When she thought about it that way, Seven was able to find some joy instead of the sucking pain.

"We're really just wrapping things up at this point," B'Elanna was explaining. "I wanted your say, though, on things, before we finalize. This is plan that I currently have. The regeneration chamber has already been built. It's exactly like the one we installed in your house, but with a few tweaks and upgrades. We're installing it today so I can make sure that everything runs smoothly, but I wanted your word on things before I authorize my crew to get started."

Seven looked over Raffi's shoulder as Raffi leaned closer to the plans that were spread out on the table. She followed Raffi's finger as it trailed after B'Elanna's and came to a stop. She tapped it.

"That's where you're planning to put it?" Raffi asked.

"We can change the location if that's not going to work for some reason," B'Elanna said.

"That's not going to work," Raffi said matter-of-factly. Seven felt her pulse kick up at the tone of Raffi's voice, and she felt her personal device vibrate in her pocket. Her chip was telling her that she was burning through her last dose of hormones at a rapid rate and, now, she knew that was likely owing to nanoprobes scrambling around wildly in her body—trying to regulate everything and keep the proverbial waters smooth for her and her growing baby. Whether the nanoprobes liked her new supply of hormones or not, they were certainly using them, and they were greedy about it. For a moment, Seven ignored the personal device's demands that she enter her personal code at a replicator and request a hypospray. Instead, she put her hands on Raffi's shoulders to try to ground her.

B'Elanna and Janeway were looking at Raffi with some surprise—maybe because she'd voiced some dissatisfaction for their plans and, maybe, because they'd heard the venom in her voice.

"Is there a better place for it?" B'Elanna asked.

Seven's stomach tightened and she felt a wave of something unexpected—nausea and dizziness. "Fucking nanoprobes," she thought to herself, but she didn't dare to voice her discomfort at the moment. Instead, she squeezed Raffi's shoulders again, kneading her muscles. B'Elanna wasn't challenging her—not at the moment—but Seven wasn't ready to see B'Elanna and Raffi both with their hackles raised. Raffi didn't respond to Seven's soothing at all. In fact, when she spoke, it was clear that she was just getting started.

"What about here?" Raffi asked, pointing to the quarters that had earlier been indicated as their own. "Or—anywhere else on the whole ship?"

"Is there something fundamentally wrong with Cargo Bay 1?" B'Elanna asked.

"Nothing at all," Raffi said, "except—I don't like the idea of coming in the first day on the ship and stowing my gear in my quarters and then running down to Cargo Bay 1 and stowing my wife away right next to a case of self-sealing stem bolts!"

"Please—excuse us a moment," Seven said, pulling Raffi away from the table. For a moment, she half expected her to latch on and drag the whole thing with them. If anyone didn't want Seven to drag Raffi outside, they didn't say anything to stop her.

Outside the door, Seven turned Raffi around and held her by the shoulders. For a moment, she absorbed the rage in Raffi's eyes.

"I get it," Seven said. "I understand. I know you, Raffi. And—you're angry. You're hurt. You need a target. But you need one that won't cost you in your profession. Go ahead. Be angry with me, if that's what you need, but don't get yourself demerits on my account." Seven swallowed and shook her head. "Demerits won't put…anything…back where it's supposed to be."

Raffi held Seven with the hard stare for only a moment, and then her expression crumpled. She pulled Seven to her, and Seven sunk into the offered hug. She closed her eyes, sniffed like she'd been sniffing since that morning and nuzzled Raffi's neck as she silently asked for the hug to be prolonged just a little longer.

"I'm not mad at you," Raffi said, her voice sounding hoarse. "I could never be mad at you. You're hurting as much as I am. And—it's not your fault. It just happened. And it's not fair. We wanted both of them. We would have loved both of them."

"We would have loved both of them," Seven echoed. "We did love both of them. And now? We have to…love one of them twice as hard."

Seven pulled out of the hug. Raffi's eyes were damp and Seven could feel the tears on her own face. Her vision was slightly blurred by them. She wiped her face with her hands and wished for something a little more effective. As though she could hear her wish, Raffi produced a handkerchief. When Seven looked at her with question, she smiled.

"You've needed it lately," Raffi teased.

"You need it, too," Seven pointed out.

Raffi shrugged and practically thrust the cloth into Seven's hands. Seven understood that, more than the need to dry her eyes, Raffi had the need to see herself supplying something that Seven needed. Seven accepted the handkerchief with a quiet thanks and used it.

"You're vibrating," Raffi said. "And so am I. I don't vibrate until you're really low. You've got alarms going off everywhere."

Seven laughed quietly through the tears that weren't quite done.

"Fucking nanoprobes," she muttered, just loud enough for Raffi to hear her. Raffi laughed quietly.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm kind of fond of the little guys. They're using all those hormones where they think they're best suited, and it appears their primary goals are keeping my wife and my baby healthy and safe, so…we have a lot in common. They have my support, and I'm going to keep trying to give them whatever they want or need to do the job they've got to do."

Seven felt her tears renewed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do—whatever—to make them both stay," Seven said.

"Don't," Raffi said. "It wasn't you. If it had been me? Odds are that neither one would have made it. We'd be discussing the second cycle right now instead of walking out of there with a holoimage that shows our perfect little one and its…countless…babysitters that were too busy to stop and pose properly for the picture."

Seven laughed quietly at that. Her stomach tightened. She put her hand over it. She felt the cool touch of Raffi's finger and the pressure on her chin as Raffi directed her face upward. She met Raffi's concerned gaze.

"Are you OK?" Raffi asked.

"I feel—unwell," Seven admitted.

"Care to elaborate?" Raffi asked. "Unwell like—regeneration will help this, or unwell like we need to contact the Doctor?"

"I feel nauseous," Seven said. "Only when—only when the alarms are going off, I think. It may be something the nanoprobes are doing."

"Do you need to throw up?" Raffi asked.

Seven made a face at her.

"I am unaccustomed to vomiting," Seven said.

Raffi laughed quietly.

"There's a first time for everything," Raffi said. "You said you read the PADDs. Vomiting and…your condition? They go hand-in-hand, even without the helpful nanoprobes trying to get rid of things that they think might be making you feel bad…including breakfast."

"I will fight the sensation," Seven said.

"Fine," Raffi said. "Suit yourself. But, Seven? Nobody's going to care if you need to throw up, OK? Still—they prefer a little advanced warning. At least enough to get you to the bathroom or, at the very least, to let them get out of the way."

"Understood," Seven said. She gagged, unexpectedly, and covered her mouth.

"That's about enough warning," Raffi said, grabbing her by the arm. "Come on—let's go…quickly." Raffi pulled Seven down the corridor. Seven didn't dare to protest. She was unaccustomed to vomiting, as she'd told Raffi, and she found the whole idea quite uncomfortable. Still, she also felt a cold dread that it was something impending. She rushed to keep up with Raffi as Raffi searched for the nearest bathroom. While they half-jogged down the corridor, Raffi touched her combadge.

"Musiker to Torres."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for my outburst. We can discuss it later. Right now, we are currently in route to a latrine, however. Please ask Admiral Janeway to excuse our delay."

"Raffi, what's wrong?" B'Elanna asked. "Is it Seven?"

Seven felt herself practically thrust through the latrine door. Raffi was usually quite gentle, unless they were enjoying a little something more demanding in the bedroom, but today she was practically manhandling Seven. She thrust her into the stall and pushed her down so that Seven dropped to her knees to keep from being hurled to them.

Maybe she should have trusted Raffi more, though, because she'd barely hit her knees before everything she'd had for breakfast abandoned its proverbial post. Raffi stood behind her, holding her hair back. Seven heard her casually continue the conversation with B'Elanna.

"You could say that," Raffi said. "We'll be back as soon as possible. Please extend our apologies to the Admiral." As soon as she was done with the conversation, Raffi was rubbing circles on Seven's back. "It's OK, Baby. Just—let it all out. It'll be better out than in."

"This is a most-unpleasant experience!" Seven said, when she felt able to speak.

Raffi laughed.

"And we're just getting started," Raffi said. "You done?"

"I feel terrible," Seven admitted. "I feel—hot. Very—hot."

"But your stomach feels better, doesn't it?" Raffi asked.

"It does," Seven admitted after considering it.

Raffi rubbed her back again.

"Then my lovely little nanoprobes know what the hell they're doing," Raffi said.

"This is hardly beneficial to me," Seven said. "And—I require adequate nutrition for the baby."

"I have a feeling they'll make sure you get your nutrition," Raffi said, "and that they get that nutrition to all the right places. Maybe they're just unhappy with what you chose for breakfast or…all the upset that's going on. And maybe they don't like the alarms going off now that they've built something in your brain to go with your chip. We need to keep on top of what your body needs instead of waiting until all the alarms have been going off for half an hour."

"You have a very intimate knowledge of my nanoprobes, suddenly," Seven said. She looked up at Raffi as Raffi leaned over and pressed the button to flush the toilet.

"I'm getting a feel for them," Raffi said. "Do you think you're ready to get up? Rinse your mouth out? I didn't look when we came in, but most of these have automatic toothbrush and toothpaste dispensers. You'll start learning to love that."

"I am—sorry," Seven said. "I should have been able to control this."

"If you could have controlled it, you would have," Raffi said. "Don't apologize. This won't be the last time you throw up. In fact, it might not be the last time you throw up today. The best show of control you had was that you managed to control it until we got here. And—don't be upset if you can't always do that. Once, when I was pregnant with Gabe, I threw up in the corridor outside of a meeting hall, and I barely made it out the door."

"On the floor?" Seven asked.

"On the floor," Raffi confirmed. She laughed. "Almost on Jean-Luc's shoes as he tried to escort me out quickly enough to find a latrine."

"Raffi—that's awful."

"It's pregnancy," Raffi said. "It's humiliating, but…everyone survived. And they got over it. Come on." She helped Seven up. "Feeling better?" She asked, pressing her hand to Seven's stomach. The sensation of the touch inexplicably made Seven's heart flutter and she felt the vibration of her alarm going off again. She felt her face grow warm, and Raffi smiled.

"Our little one knows what it wants," Raffi said. She touched her combadge again. "Musiker to Torres."

"Is everything OK?" B'Elanna asked.

"Are replicators up and running?"

"In certain areas," B'Elanna said. "What do you need?"

"Some personal items for Seven," Raffi said.

The communication was intercepted.

"Raffi—this is Kathryn Janeway."

"Admiral," Raffi said in response.

"Kathryn," Janeway corrected. "We're not on duty at the moment. The replicators in my office are working. You are free to replicate absolutely anything that you or Seven require. We also have portable regeneration packs on hand because B'Elanna stressed the importance of placing them throughout the ship. If you need something more, we'll find it, as long as Starfleet has it to offer. However, I expect you in my office post-haste. This isn't an order, but consider it a firm request."

Raffi made eye contact with Seven. Seven could, to some degree, read what she was saying to her in her eyes.

"We're on our way," Raffi said.