AN: Here we are, another little piece here.

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

111

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" Seven asked.

Deanna Troi's office was small, but not cramped. It was cozy and relaxing. There were soft sounds programmed to play at a level that was barely audible, but loud enough to please the senses. There were smells that, without actually being able to identify any one in particular, Seven found comforting. There was a variety of available seating—all of it comfortable—for any preference someone might have.

Deanna Troi, herself, was friendly and inviting. Immediately upon talking to her, one could find themselves believing her to be a dear old friend.

Seven knew Troi prior to this appointment, of course, but this appointment felt different. Maybe, more than that, Seven actually felt different. She felt like she was meeting Troi for the first time as the new person that she somewhat felt herself to be.

Troi smiled at her from the seat she'd chosen after they'd each replicated their beverage of choice and she'd allowed Seven to choose her preferred seat. Normally, Troi allotted an hour to each patient, and Seven knew that she was usually able to stay busy for most of her working days. However, she sometimes allotted two hours to a patient—especially when she felt that she needed a more relaxed window in which to chat with them, especially to establish a relationship. Seven had been allotted two hours, though she didn't actually see a clock, and she hadn't seen Troi reference one.

Troi smiled at Seven and sat forward slightly, bringing them a little closer together.

"Do you think that I am reading your thoughts?" Troi asked.

"Betazoid," Seven said. "Species 6713. They were an easy species to assimilate. They're peaceful, gentle, and accommodating. They were assimilated before they were fully aware of the Borg because of the limits of their telepathic abilities and sensitivities when it comes to Borg technology. Although their telepathy was used to strengthen the abilities of the Collective, they made horrible drones. Because of their remarkable mental strength, they were difficult to keep as drones. The Betazoid drones had to be eradicated. The Borg no longer took any Betazoids as drones. Instead, any with which they had contact were simply exterminated at sight."

Troi raised her eyebrows and moved like she might speak, but she didn't—not before Seven interrupted her.

"This is why I'm not popular at parties," Seven said, laughing nervously to herself. She shook her head. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. Sometimes, I'm still not good with the whole idea of social interaction. I'm better than I used to be, but that's not always saying very much."

"I am not offended," Troi offered after moment of clearly trying to decide if what she said was true. "I am only half Betazoid, Seven. I cannot read your mind. I can only communicate telepathically with other Betazoids and, at unexpected moments, with my imzadi."

Seven smiled. She felt the smile like a tug in her belly.

"Your beloved," Seven offered. Troi smiled in response and nodded. "Commander Riker?" Troi nodded again. "But—he is human."

"The connection between souls can be stronger, sometimes, than even the connection between minds," Troi offered.

Seven sucked in a breath and let it out, feeling herself relax a bit more into her chair. She'd been nervous about this. She'd been nervous about opening up and sharing what she felt and thought—whether by choice or by what she sometimes thought of as telepathic violation. Now, she wasn't feeling as nervous.

"I hope that's true," Seven said.

"I have seen your connection with Raffi," Troi said. "Your imzadi?"

Seven smiled at the thought of it.

"I have—never loved anyone like I love Raffi," Seven admitted. "And—she says that she's never loved anyone like she loves me."

"You don't believe her?"

"That's just it," Seven said. "I do. I absolutely do believe her, and any time that I might think that I doubt it, even just a little bit, she seems to work that much harder to prove it to me. I try to prove it to her, too, when she has insecurities."

"That sounds like a healthy relationship," Troi offered. She sat forward in her chair and leaned against the arm of it. It was a relaxed position—like friends having a chat. Troi was interested in what Seven had to say—anything she might have to say—and she had no interest in steering the conversation. Seven could feel that. Still, Seven felt like she needed a little guidance.

"I don't know what to say next," Seven admitted.

"You can talk about whatever you like," Troi said. "From what you've told me, and from what you sent me before this appointment, I am assuming that conflict in your relationship is not why you're here. You asked if I could read your thoughts. I can't, but I can read your emotions, especially as you're relaxing and letting some of your guard down. You have very strong shields against my empathic probing."

"It's probably a Borg adaptation," Seven said.

"When you relax," Troi said, ignoring that, "I can feel that you have a lot of emotions, Seven. We can talk about all of them. The strongest emotion that I'm feeling from you is love. You have a lot of love in your life. You feel a lot of love."

"I do," Seven said, her throat tightening.

"I feel happiness. You're happy."

"For the first time in…my whole life," Seven admitted.

"You're afraid," Troi said. She offered Seven the tissue before Seven even realized there were tears welling up in her eyes. "I sense a lot of fear. Do you want to tell me what you're afraid of, Seven?"

"Can you—read my baby's emotions?" Seven asked.

Troi seemed to consider it a moment. She sat back in her chair.

"Sometimes, when a mother is carrying her young, I can connect with the young that she's carrying," Troi said. "However, in order to do that, I have to lower my own protective shields all the way. It can be painful—troubling—to sense so many emotions at once while I try to hone in on something so faint."

"I remember the sound of all the voices in the Collective," Seven said, musing more than anything. Her musing, however, seemed to soften something in Troi. Maybe, for a moment, there was a connection between them that went beyond the acknowledgement that they both had an imzadi.

"I'll try, if you want me to," Troi said. "However, I have two stipulations. You mustn't take personally any expression I make while searching for that one tiny…voice. And—you must lower your own shields entirely, as well, so that we can truly connect without barriers."

Seven's stomach ached slightly. It was a big move. It would mean opening herself up a great deal. Still, she wanted this. She nodded.

"Fine," she said. She sucked in a breath and let it out, willing herself to relax as much as possible. "Proceed."

Seven closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to watch Troi as the woman worked through her own feelings and the onslaught of other people's feelings. Seven felt the probing—because that was what it felt like to her—when Troi reached out to try to connect with her. Seven felt herself start to resist, and she willed herself to relax. She willed herself to allow Troi to gather anything and everything from her that she could.

Maybe there was some slight residue of some telepathic ability leftover in Seven from the Borg. Maybe Troi's empathetic strength was greater than she gave it credit for being. Even as she probed the edges of Seven's mind for connection, she seemed to offer her own message—one of peace and safety. Seven found herself relaxing more with the sensations that came naturally to her and washed through her with warmth.

"Seven?" Troi said. Seven opened her eyes. Troi's face was serene. She was even smiling. "I found her."

Seven's stomach flipped and she felt like her heart stopped in her chest.

"Is she…OK?" Seven asked.

"I can't tell you her medical condition," Troi offered.

"For that I have medical providers. I mean is she—happy?" Seven asked.

"I get—calm," Troi said. "Serene. Content. Perhaps happiness, as we think of it, doesn't yet exist for her. There is great peace. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Seven nodded, swallowing rapidly against the aching in her throat. She was thankful for the box of tissue that she'd been offered earlier—tissue that she wouldn't have imagined needing before she'd come into the room.

"Thank you," Seven said.

"You're welcome. You both are. Thank you for—being open to me," Troi said.

Seven felt the sensation of a pulling back. She felt the connection between them break—not entirely, but almost. She felt the residual lingering of Troi's empathic abilities—some piece of herself that she wasn't trying to turn off. For a brief second, Seven felt a sort of loneliness in her belly. She wished, for just a moment, to have that connection back. She didn't tell Troi that the thought had flickered across her mind and, if the emotion had registered for Troi, she didn't say anything about it.

"Is that what's been bothering you, Seven?" Troi asked.

Seven shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly.

"Among other things. I have been—having nightmares," Seven said. "At least, that's what Raffi assures me they are. They seem very real to me, though."

"Do you want to discuss them?" Troi asked.

"They are—different," Seven said. "However, in almost all of them, I am…causing our baby pain. Terrible pain. And I can hear her screaming in my mind, but I can't help her."

"That's the part that you find most disturbing of any of the dreams," Troi said, leaving it open to be a question or a statement. Seven was left to interpret it however she wanted.

"Regardless of the variations," Seven said, "I am most disturbed by the fact that I feel as though she is suffering. I feel like there is constant suffering. And, not only can I not stop it, but I am the cause."

Troi smiled at her.

"She wasn't suffering just now," Troi said. "And—I caught no sense of suffering or pain, Seven, from anyone except you. Perhaps you should forgive yourself for crimes you haven't committed."

Seven drew in a breath and let it out. She took those words to heart.

"Thank you," she said. "I will do my best."

"It's OK if you fail, too," Troi said. "I had terrible nightmares when I was pregnant. I was paranoid. Pregnancy has its effects for every woman. Just—try to relax. Remember that it's entirely normal."

"Except that it isn't," Seven said. Troi simply made a face at her to ask her what she meant. Seven didn't require words or telepathic connection to understand. "My pregnancy is unique. My situation is unique. The Borg do not procreate in this manner. As far as we are aware, my pregnancy is the first of its kind."

"The first, but not the last?" Troi asked.

"I hope not," Seven said. "Raffi asked me what I wanted so many times. It took me a long time to arrive at a point where I felt like I could admit that this is what I wanted—family. My own family. I still want this, and I want everything that we've dreamed of together. We planned for a second child."

"You said that in the information you sent me," Troi said. "This is the Soñador. It's a ship built on, and for, dreams."

"The Doctor and Dr. Crusher have permission to perform the entire procedure," Seven said. "From joining our eggs, to implantation, and throughout the pregnancy."

"What's the problem, Seven?" Troi asked. "Are you changing your mind? You seem—hesitant."

Seven hadn't felt more than the almost gentle stroking of Troi's empathic abilities, but that sensation was nearly constant in the woman's presence. It was also oddly comforting and relaxing.

"No," Seven said. "I am not changing my mind. However, I am…afraid."

"What are you afraid of?" Troi asked.

"My pregnancy is developing at an advanced speed," Seven said. "It is possible that it is owing to my Borg physiology and the presence of active nanoprobes. The baby developed normally as an embryo, before she was implanted in my body. She developed at a perfectly normal speed. However, once she was implanted in my body, she began to mature at an advanced speed. It is possible that the nanoprobes work, in some way, like something resembling a Borg maturation chamber."

"To my limited understanding," Troi offered, "the uterus is, by nature, something like a maturation chamber."

"Only this one is…enhanced," Seven said.

"Do you fear that's causing damage to your child?" Troi asked.

"When I was on Voyager," Seven said, "there was a transporter malfunction that fused some of my nanoprobes with the technology from the Doctor's mobile emitter. The resulting Borg technology took a tissue sample from a crewmember and used it as a template to create a very advanced Borg drone—One."

"Like your child," Troi said, "but created in an unconventional manner."

Seven hummed.

"One matured very quickly," Seven said. "The technology created a maturation chamber, and One emerged, fully-formed, within a day. He later…died. He chose to refuse treatment after an encounter with the Borg. He wanted to save the ship from the Borg's pursuit."

"And you're afraid that something similar may happen with your baby?" Troi asked.

Seven nodded.

"I am afraid that—my baby will develop quickly, and that she will grow just as quickly. I fear that her life will move at a faster speed than it should."

"This is a concern you should raise with the Doctor," Troi said. "And Dr. Crusher. I suffered something similar. I—gave birth to an alien life form. The pregnancy was very fast, and the life form grew at an advanced rate after birth. His name was Ian, and he chose to die to save the ship. Ian aged continuously at an advanced rate, and he would have likely continued to age at an advanced rate. However, it seems as though, in your case, the advanced aging may be due to this…biological maturation chamber or…or nanoprobes…as you call them. Perhaps that means that, once your daughter is born, there is no reason to believe that she will not simply age normally."

"Were you afraid of losing again?" Seven asked.

"Every mother is afraid of losing her children," Troi said. "And every mother that has ever lost a child knows that there is no greater pain."

Seven felt a pain in her chest—for her own losses and for those that she knew Troi had suffered.

"I am—sorry for your loss," Seven said. "For your—losses. All of them."

Troi nodded her thanks, but Seven understood it, again, without words—like the gentle stroking she'd felt earlier.

"And I am sorry for yours," Troi said. "All of them. You should talk to the Doctor and Dr. Crusher. Perhaps they can put your mind at ease better than I can. What I can tell you, though, is that…it seems logical to believe that your daughter is developing as she is because you are helping her to do so. She will likely grow normally when she is born and becomes an individual—independent from everything your body offers her to give her life."

Something in Seven believed that, and her gut responded to Troi's words. Still, it felt good to hear it from someone else. It felt good to simply hear the thought spoken aloud.

"Thank you," Seven said, realizing how many times she'd said the same thing in the course of a relatively short amount of time.

"And, Seven," Troi offered, sitting forward and clearly getting comfortable for the remainder of their conversation, "you can relax—your daughter isn't suffering. She's content—at peace. Try to be at peace for her."

Seven nodded, this time not putting voice to the thanks she felt. She wiped at her eyes, pulling more tissue from the box she'd been offered. Troi smiled at her, clearly letting her know that she didn't need the words to understand what Seven wanted to say.