AN: Here's another piece to this one!

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111

Seven had practically bounded down the corridors as she headed back to their quarters. She felt energized and light and, honestly, almost entirely unlike herself. She felt, honestly, the way that only Raffi could make her feel. She felt anxious to get back to her home—because their quarters were as much home as anything could be, when she knew Raffi was there waiting for her—and share with Raffi the best thing she'd heard today.

Their daughter was content. She was at peace.

Somewhere deep down, Seven was aware that might not sound like much to anyone else, but it nearly made her cry, again, just from thinking of it as she made her way back to their quarters. She even dared to touch her stomach, as she walked, like she could somehow feel their daughter instead of the warmth of her own body through her clothing. The emotion during her conversation with Deanna Troi had apparently sent her nanoprobes burning through so many hormones that she'd been required to borrow Troi's replicator to produce a hypospray to stop her alarm from blaring. She knew, too, that Raffi had gotten the same alarm she had.

Seven smiled to herself as she remembered Raffi's voice coming over her combadge—soft and apologetic. She was sorry to interrupt, but she just needed to know if there was some reason Seven couldn't get to a replicator and if she was needed to check on her soon. Just remembering it made Seven feel warm all over.

"Raf?" Seven called as soon as she stepped into their quarters. "Raffi?"

"I'm in here!"

Seven heard Raffi's voice, but it was somewhat muffled. She glanced around, but she didn't see Raffi immediately.

"Where are you, Raffi?" Seven called out again, ridding herself of her shoes in the middle of the living area and sighing at the relief. She wasn't going to ask for heels again—not ever. Her feet were hurting far worse than she would have imagined they would after such a short period of time in the not-entirely insensible shoes.

"I'm in the nursery," Raffi called back to her.

Seven felt her heart skip like it simply forgot to beat. Raffi was in the nursery. Seven walked toward the room. Each of the family quarters was designed like this one—with a small additional bedroom and small bathroom attached for the children to share. For now, the room connected to Raffi and Seven's quarters stood empty. However, they planned to turn it into the nursery and, depending on how long the mission stretched on and how often they re-joined, into a bedroom for the children as they grew.

Even though Seven would have never considered herself one that was given to whimsy, she had felt like she was since she'd been with Raffi. In many ways, Raffi had taught her that it was OK to explore thoughts and emotions—no matter how silly or crazy—and that part of being human, or even partially human, was not always being logical, rational, or worried about things that were simply necessary. Seven had entered the room a few times, when nobody was around to see what she was doing, and she'd stood in the middle of the empty room and imagined what it would be like to visit the place when her baby woke. She'd imagined bending over to lift them from the crib. She'd imagined sitting, rocking with the little one. In the tiny bathroom—empty except for the basic amenities—she'd imagined bathing the little one.

The number of dreams that Seven had already created around the room made her feel almost nervous to enter it again—a giddy kind of nervous that wasn't entirely unlike the emotion that she'd felt while rushing toward their quarters.

As soon as the door slid open, Seven's eyes found Raffi, sitting in the middle of the floor with several pieces to an item surrounding her. Seven's gut seemed to know that she was working on putting together a rocking chair, even though she had clearly only just begun the assembly. A quick glance around the room revealed that it was no longer empty. Against one wall, there was a crib.

Seven felt dizzy, and her knees felt a little shaky at the sight of the crib.

"What are you doing?" Seven asked. Raffi offered a hand up toward Seven, and Seven took it. Despite the fact that she felt a little shaky, she was still quite strong and sturdy. It took nothing for her to tug Raffi up to her feet, even though Raffi teasingly groaned and put on a bit of show about rising up from the floor.

"I thought I'd have to call Elnor soon," Raffi said, "if I stayed down there too long. I'm—putting things together for the nursery. Look, Seven…" Raffi walked over and ran her hand along the railing of the crib. "She has a bed now."

"My heart is beating very hard, and very fast," Seven admitted, confessing her truth before she even thought about whether or not she should. Raffi stepped forward, caught Seven's hands in hers, and tugged Seven toward the crib with a smile on her face.

"In a good way, I hope," Raffi said, biting her lower lip.

"It is—too soon," Seven said. "Isn't it?"

Raffi glanced at the rocker in pieces and shrugged her shoulders.

"Eh," she said, making a non-committal sound. "Some people may say it's too early, but I think—we should enjoy every second of happiness that life gives us. We're not always promised more. Do you want me to—take it apart for…however long it takes before she comes?"

"No," Seven said quickly and a bit more sharply than she meant to. "No," she repeated, softening her tone.

"Good," Raffi said with a smile, "because it was a hell of a feat getting it put together. The replicator only has one style of everything you need for a baby, and that's complicated."

Seven touched it for the first time. Her heart still pounded. She imagined their baby sleeping there. She felt nearly dizzy again.

"Do we know it's safe?" Seven asked.

"It'll hold Miral," Raffi said with a shrug. "It ought to hold our little girl."

"Miral is a fifteen-year-old Klingon-hybrid," Seven said.

"And for that reason," Raffi said, "I assume that anything that can support her weight can support our daughter's. Oh—and—just for the record? Miral expects to babysit. She made me promise as I was, you know, helping her in."

"She's content, Raffi. At peace," Seven blurted. She touched her hand to her face. It felt warm. She was saying and doing things that felt out of control, and out of character, at least a little. She was overwhelmed. She was unaccustomed to being overwhelmed—or, at least, she had been until the chip had helped her theoretically get more in touch with a normal range of human hormone production and emotional output.

"Miral?" Raffi asked.

"Our baby," Seven said. "She's content. Peaceful. Deanna Troi was able to…to find her. To connect with her."

Raffi smiled and Seven immediately saw dampness in her eyes. She placed her fingers—cool and soft—on Seven's cheeks, and Seven closed her eyes and sighed for a moment, drinking in the comfort of that simple touch. She opened her eyes to Raffi again.

"She's happy, Seven," Raffi said.

"It is possible she does not understand happiness the way that we do," Seven offered.

"But she understands it in her way," Raffi said. "She feels—content. Good…and safe. Her mommy is taking good care of her, and she knows it." She was still smiling, despite the tear that escaped her eye. Seven brushed it away for her. "There's no screaming, Seven. No hurting."

"No," Seven said. "If Deanna is being honest…"

"She's being honest, Seven," Raffi interrupted. She dropped her hands and wiped at her own face. "She's being honest and you're…you're so good at this."

Seven moved toward Raffi to embrace her, and Raffi met her, wrapping her arms around her. She held her tightly, not making any move to break them apart. Seven closed her eyes to the sensation of Raffi's hands exploring her back. Fingers, through the relatively thin fabric of the dress she'd chosen for the day, found implants the way they always seemed to do and caressed them—a silent reminder that, not only were they fine, but they were loved and embraced as a part of who Seven was to Raffi.

"I feel good, Raffi," Seven admitted, still holding tightly to her. "I feel right doing this—being her mama, carrying her. It feels good, now that I know she's content."

"Of course, she's content," Raffi said. "Of course, she is." She pulled out of the hug, but she held onto Seven—one hand on each of her arms. Raffi's eyes were damp, but Seven didn't feel as though her own face was entirely dry. "Hey—I didn't know what you wanted, but…that crib was almost outside of my engineering abilities. I thought—maybe, if you wanted, we could put together another one, together? While I still remember how to do it and while we have the whole day to work on it."

Seven's breath caught. Raffi touched her face again.

"Seven? Hey—you OK?"

"Raffi—what if she…keeps going with the advanced aging? What if—her whole lifetime is like that, and it's so short, because of it?" Seven said. "What if we—lose her—and it's my fault?"

Raffi looked almost like Seven had slapped her. She swayed a little on her feet, stepping back a half-step, but still letting one hand hold onto Seven's arm.

"Why would—you believe that?" Raffi asked.

"I had a nightmare about it," Seven admitted. "A few, actually. We were holding her, and she was perfect, and then…she just kept growing until she was just…gone, Raffi. In an instant."

"You didn't tell me about that?" Raffi asked.

"I didn't want to keep ruining your sleep every time there's another horrible thought," Seven said. "Every time—I can't breathe because I'm overwhelmed with a runaway imagination."

"And that's what it is," Raffi said, "imagination."

"We don't know that," Seven said. "She aged normally as an embryo, but I made her age like she's aging now. The nanoprobes made her age like she's aging now. What if it doesn't stop?"

Raffi nodded.

"OK," she said. "OK…just…" she held her hands up, indicating for Seven to give her a moment. She touched her combadge. "Musiker to Sickbay."

"Is there something I can help you with?" The Doctor came back.

"Actually, there is," Raffi said. "We have a…pregnancy related concern."

"Go ahead," the Doctor said.

Raffi quickly explained to the Doctor what Seven's concerns were. Seven listened to them. On the one hand, part of her seemed to find them irrational as she listened. The other part of her, however, found them perfectly rational and completely terrifying.

"Is this a concern, Doctor, that we ought to prepare for?" Raffi asked.

The silence hardly lasted long enough to count.

"I seen no reason to believe this is a serious concern," the Doctor said. "As you stated, the baby aged at a normal human rate prior to implantation. You also pointed out what we've hypothesized before. The nanoprobes have likely created a maturation chamber of sorts for the growth of the baby—aiding her in every way possible as she develops. Unlike certain species that do experience rapid aging throughout their lifetimes, neither parent brings this trait to your daughter's genetic makeup. Even the Borg do not experience rapid aging. They age at an advanced rate while assisted by a maturation chamber, but once they are free from the chamber, their aging slows to the expected aging of their species. Seven—I assume you're present and listening?"

"Yes," Seven said, her voice coming out in a croak as her throat felt like it was closing entirely.

"You age at the normal rate of a human, even though you were, essentially, grown in a maturation chamber after the age of six."

"Yes," Seven said.

"Maturation technology aside—with which we know your nanoprobes are familiar—the Borg do not age at a rapid pace. We have no reason to believe, then, that your daughter will age at a rapid pace. Upon her emergence from your body, she should begin to age normally, as is expected of a human newborn."

Seven held Raffi's eyes. Somehow, it seemed, Raffi could simply feel what Seven was feeling. Raffi gave her a soft smile. She tipped her head to the side, ever-so-slightly, as she sometimes did when she wanted to comfort Seven.

"Doctor—how confident are you of this?" Raffi asked.

"I am not a gambling hologram," the Doctor said, "aside from participation in Commander Paris's so-called pools from time to time. However, I would stake my program on this assessment. There is no logical reason to believe that Baby Musiker will age any differently than any other human newborn."

Seven drew in a breath. Her throat ached like it was raw. Her eyes were blurred. She blew out the breath and nodded. Raffi smiled at her, tenderly, and brushed a thumb under Seven's eye.

"Thank you, Doctor," Raffi said.

"Will that be all?" The Doctor asked.

"That'll be all," Raffi assured him before ending the connection. "You see? She's content and…just doing her thing, Seven. And, when she comes, we'll be ready for her, and we'll bring her back here—and she'll stay with us, you know, until she's ready to leave the nest at a totally normal and acceptable time."

Seven laughed, and she felt thankful for that laughter and support. She managed to say so, but only with a weak "thank you" that didn't express all that she really felt at the moment.

"You feel better?" Raffi asked.

"I do," Seven breathed out. She nodded.

"Why don't you—go get us some tea? Something relaxing. No caffeine. You can hang out with me and watch me try to put this chair together," Raffi said.

Seven nodded.

"Fine," she said. "I'll go—make us some tea. Raffi?"

Raffi hummed at her. Her eyes were glittering—maybe it was with tears, and maybe it was with happiness—or, even, with happy tears. Seven wasn't sure which, but she was certain that Raffi was the most beautiful woman alive, and that she loved her more than she would have ever believed possible.

"I'm going to change my clothes…"

"You should," Raffi said. She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. "Get comfortable. Then, come and be with me. Hang out." She winked at Seven.

Seven nodded her head.

"While I'm doing that," Seven said, "you should…replicate the parts for another crib."

Raffi's expression changed, but she immediately worked to control it.

"Are you sure?" Raffi asked. "I don't want to rush you, Seven…or…make you feel like you're being pushed into anything." Raffi shook her head. "Believe me—the last thing I want in life is for you to feel like I've manipulated you into any part of our family."

Seven shook her head.

"You haven't," she said. "You asked me what I wanted. Every time we've made a decision, Raf…you've asked me what I wanted. And—even when it wasn't what you wanted, you let me have it. If you want what I want, then…I want you to replicate the parts to another crib." She smiled when Raffi smiled. "And then, we can figure all this out together while we have our tea." She raised her eyebrows at Raffi. "Is that what you want?"

"I can't think of a better way to spend a day off," Raffi assured her. "Go change your clothes. Get some tea and…don't forget that she needs a snack and you probably need to top everything up with a hypospray. It feels like an emotional kind of day."

Seven leaned and requested a kiss that she was given without hesitation. Raffi let it linger, too, for as long as Seven wanted to continue teasing her, tasting her lips.

"You take care of me," Seven said, when the kiss broke. "Of us. Our whole little Musiker Collective."

Raffi laughed quietly. Seven echoed it, enjoying the feeling of the laughter and the relaxation that was already beginning to course through her body.

"And I always will," Raffi assured her. "For as long as you let me. Now—go. I'll have everything ready when you get back."