Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling, and
they’re falling like
they’re falling in love with the ground.”

(Andrea Gibson)

colors/dance

Seven has never stayed anywhere long enough to experience seasons. Not ones she wants to remember, anyway. She lived on Earth eight months after Voyager, six of them locked in a Starfleet facility where twice-a-week visits to the holodeck were deemed sufficient for her needs. They didn’t even let her crack the windows in her quarters to let in the breeze.

The two months she spent outside the facility—living with her aunt and visiting Icheb as his classes allowed—provided little in the way of seasonal change. It was summer in California, the heat simmering, the air dry, the rolling hills adorned with grasses long gone stiff and brown. The sky was a domed and cloudless blue that made her feel caged. She wasn’t sorry to leave it behind.

She learned the seasons on Fenris, though she’s done her best to forget them because they remind her too much of Jay. The fact that she learned them at all—that she allowed herself to be charmed into staying in one place long enough for Bjayzl to spin her web—is a source of shame. She doesn’t want to think about the purple grasses that heralded the end of the rainy season or the way the sunsets got more brilliant in winter or the chittering insects during harvest that gave way to shrieking bird-like calls in the fall.

Out in space, it’s easy to ignore the passage of time. She’s never liked being tied down anyway.

But September is ending and temperatures are dropping (as much as they drop at Vasquez Rocks, anyway), and the second week of Raffi’s bereavement leave is coming to a close. They’ve done little more than sleep and eat since B’Elanna’s visit, but neither feels like they’ve begun to recover from what happened in 2024.

“I think I’m going to take the rest of the semester off,” Raffi says one morning, wrapped in Seven’s arms.

“Okay.”

“I just can’t be the teacher those kids need right now.”

“Knowing your limits is good.”

“The rest will help.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to stay that long though. I know we only agreed to three weeks.”

“I said we’d start with three weeks,” Seven murmurs, nudging her nose against the back of Raffi’s neck. She feels warm and drowsy and Raffi’s skin smells like summer herbs—a new body wash maybe, or that old perfume. She remembers telling Raffi she liked the smell on her last visit. That was July. 

“Do you want me to stay longer?”

“I always want you to stay longer.”

She kisses Raffi’s shoulder, runs a finger down her arm. “Then I’ll stay longer.”

The third week passes. Raffi extends her leave through the end of the year and Elnor moves into the spare bedroom. No one talks about how he’s withdrawn from the Academy. Seven brings it up once, the morning after Picard relays the news, and Raffi says she isn’t ready to talk about it. For now, they focus on the kitten Seven brought home on loan from Ada and Miral. A black one, twelve weeks old, with silky fur and eyes so bright that when Elnor asks if they’ve named her (they haven’t), Seven blurts out her name is Blue.

Raffi hides a smile and Elnor kisses Blue’s head and Seven realizes she should probably start researching the care and keeping of cats on starships, because it’s only been ten days and she’s already too attached to give her back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Miral laughs over comms that night. “I had a feeling you’d want to keep her. Cats suit you.” A pause while she rummages in the cabinets, then pokes her head back into view. “You really should come visit us though. Now that you’re staying on Earth for a while. You’ll love fall here. The air is crisp, the trees are turning colors. Mom and Dad are moving back so they’ll be around too.”

“They’re moving to Earth? Permanently?”

Miral pops some peanut butter in her mouth and speaks around the spoon. “Well Dad’s going back to the Delta Quadrant with Uncle Harry in a few months. Or maybe weeks, I’m not sure. It kind of depends on Starfleet. But they keep wanting him here for in-person meetings, and Mom wants to spend as much time with him as possible, so they decided to move here.” She licks the spoon clean thoughtfully. “They quit their jobs on DS12. I’m kind of surprised she didn’t tell you when she visited. Maybe it was too new.”

She settles onto the couch and props her handheld on a nearby table. “I’m not sure what Mom’s doing after Dad leaves. She’s kind of sad. Honestly, Aunt Seven, I think it would do her lots of good to have you around.”

Raffi looks up from her book at the endearment. “When do they get here?”

“Next week. You should visit. Bring Blue and stay a while. We have plenty of room. It’ll be like old times! Except better. We can have a big sleepover and cook meals together and make autumn flower crowns for the cows.”

“Cows?” Elnor pops up from where he’s been doing crunches on the other side of the couch. “Did you say you have cows?”

“So many cows. And horses and cats and pigs and dogs and goats and ducks and sheep and a donkey and her comfort alpaca. We’ve got an entire petting zoo.”

“What’s a comfort alpaca?” Elnor asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Omg,” Miral says, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “Please Aunt Seven, you’ve got to bring him. This is exactly what we’re hoping to do with this farm.”

Seven looks at Raffi, who raises her eyebrows and nods toward Elnor’s pleading expression.

“Okay,” Seven says, smiling as Miral pumps her fist in the air. “Just tell us where to go and when to get there and we’ll come.”

woods

It’s a little overwhelming, meeting everyone at once, especially after two years of knowing almost no one in Seven’s life. B’Elanna’s there, and then Tom and Harry, and of course their hostesses, Ada and Miral. Then there’s a revolving cast of farmhands that Raffi slowly figures out are friends (and sometimes lovers) of Ada’s (a few, Seven explains, are also Miral’s) (though Miral tells her not to worry about learning anyone’s names because they live in cabins further out on the property and only stopped in for breakfast) (after that they’ll scatter to the four corners of the farm). 

Raffi takes it in while feeling a little dazed.

At some point she realizes she’s lost track of Seven and panics until Ada—a warm, bright, dirt-smudged blur of Trill spots, Bajoran knitwear, freckles, and long red hair—ushers her onto the porch and closes the door behind her. The noise level drops from ten to four, and the muscles in Raffi’s shoulders unwind almost before she notices they were knotted.

“I see you survived the chaos,” B’Elanna calls from Raffi’s right. “We’re hiding until they wear themselves out.”

Raffi turns and blinks. “Is this where you got the idea for our porch swing?”

“Maybe.” Seven shifts closer to B’Elanna, making room for Raffi on the bed.

“It was Miral’s favorite place to call from when she visited her grandmother without us,” B’Elanna explains as Seven holds up the blanket so Raffi can slide in beside her. “Sometimes Seven was with us when she called.”

“And who is this?” Raffi asks Seven, indicating the enormous orange cat draped across her chest.

“That’s Clem,” B’Elanna answers. “He’s basically immortal. Seven is his emotional support xB.”

Seven rolls her eyes.

“I had no idea you were such an animal person.”

“I’m not. I’m just a Clem person.”

Raffi raises her eyebrows. “I’ll be sure to tell that to Blue.”

“Blue?”

“Seven’s new best friend, compliments of Miral. Black kitten, yea big, absolutely spoiled rotten? I think Elnor’s inside wearing her in the sling Seven made.”

B’Elanna grins. “You made her a sling? Now that I have to see.”

“Lucky for you, I have pictures.”

Seven shoots Raffi a look. “No.”

“Too late,” she says, projecting a holo before Seven can protest. It’s a picture she took at sunset on the porch a few nights ago, the kitten’s head poking out of the green cloth sling, Seven’s tilted so her nose brushes Blue’s.

“Remind me to confiscate all electronic devices next time we go somewhere,” Seven grumbles as B’Elanna grabs the handheld and makes appropriate fawning noises.

“No way.”

“Don’t look at me,” B’Elanna says, hand pressed to her chest. “I think it’s adorable.”

Raffi plants an elbow on her legs and drops her chin into her hand and preens. “Face it babe, you’re an animal person. Once you start wearing them as accessories, it’s hard to plead your case.”

Seven groans and heaves herself out of the swing bed. “I’m going inside to see if they need help with the pancakes.” She shoots them both a playful glare, then arranges Clem across her shoulders as she turns and walks away.

Raffi’s in one of the pastures watching Ada teach Elnor how to make autumn flower crowns when Miral sidles up beside her and leans her forearms on the fence.

“Having fun?”

She holds up her attempt at a crown. “I’ve been banished to the sidelines on account of being hopeless.”

Miral studies the lumpy mess. “That’s pretty bad,” she concedes, “but not nearly as bad as Mom’s. You’d think an engineer would be less of a butterfingers, but even Uncle Harry’s better than she is.”

Raffi laughs. “It’s the autumn part that gets me. I can’t seem to braid the hay. If it were wildflowers, I’d be king.” She hangs the lopsided circle on the fencepost between them. “The important thing is that Elnor’s having fun. I’m pretty sure he’s adopted half your cows.”

They watch Elnor place a finished crown on a brown cow’s head while Ada uses red leaves and pink larkspur to decorate another.

“I hope you don’t mind that I talked Seven into a visit. I know you don’t get much time with her. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen her, and I thought, well.” Miral shrugs. “Mom’s been sad. She won’t admit it, but she hates that Dad’s joining Starfleet again.”

Raffi turns curious eyes on the girl. “How do you feel about it?”

Miral picks broken bits of leaves out of the crown. “It doesn’t bother me. I mean, I’ll miss him, but we’ve lived in different quadrants for three years now.”

“No strong feelings about Starfleet?”

Miral shakes her head. “I bet that’s not something you hear very often.”

Raffi laughs, and it’s a rueful sound. “No, it’s pretty much love or hate around here. Or strongly conflicted.” She’s quiet a moment, then nods toward Seven leaning back against the fence fifty feet away. A horse in the adjoining pasture has its head slung over her shoulder, and Seven’s fingers are idly combing through its mane. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d see.”

“Seven and horses? Oh, she loves them. I made her go riding with me on the holodeck every time she came to DS12.”

Raffi doesn’t know why, but the revelation stings.

“Did she visit a lot?”

“Not as much as we wanted her to. Once, maybe twice a year. Sometimes she went years in between visits. Ranger stuff and all.”

Raffi purses her lips and nods, because yeah, the Ranger stuff she knows.

“I actually didn’t meet her until I was almost ten.”

“Really?”

Miral nods. “I was on Earth when Icheb died. My grandmother took care of me while my parents helped Seven. And then she stayed away for a long time. But Dad talked her into coming back.”

That surprises her. She would have put her money on B’Elanna being the one to break down her walls. Seven’s leaned her head against the horse’s neck now, and Raffi swears she’s tilted her face enough to kiss its cheek.

“Unbelievable.”

“Seven’s a big softie,” Miral says, following Raffi’s gaze. “It’s easier for her to let down her guard around animals. People require a lot more work.” With that, she ducks under the fence and calls out Elnor’s name, leaving Raffi to ponder what she said alone.

longing/love

“Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” B’Elanna asks, sitting down beside her. She puts a mug of spiced cider on the table, and Seven’s fingers curl around its warmth.

She nods toward the opposite end of the room where Tom, Raffi, Miral, and Harry have gathered around the coffee table to assemble miniature skeletons and teach Elnor the history of Halloween. “Raffi. She’s been too quiet.”

B’Elanna opens her mouth, then closes it as a round of laughter circles the group. “She looks pretty happy to me,” she muses once the noise subsides.

“I mean around me. She’s not talking. Something’s wrong and I don’t know what to do.” Seven presses her lips together and squeezes the mug until her human hand begins to sting. “Do you think I made a mistake, bringing her here? Staying so long?”

B’Elanna sips her cider. “I think,” she says slowly, thumbs tracing the leafy patterns etched into the clay, “that you’ve both been through a major trauma. A whole set of major traumas. And I think it hasn’t been long enough for either of you to sort things out inside yourselves, much less in your relationship. I think it’s going to take more time than either of you bargained for. And I think that’s normal and fine.”

Across the room, Tom holds up a skeleton and makes it dance on its string. Miral lifts hers as well, minus an arm and a leg, and gravely announces it lost its limbs in glorious battle. Raffi laughs so hard she leans against Elnor, who looks more than a little confused.

“It’s nice to see her laughing. I feel like all I do these days is make her sad.”

B’Elanna lays her hand on Seven’s wrist. “We’re happy to have you. I’m happy to have you. You went through so much shit out there. It makes sense to need help sorting through it all.”

Seven looks down at her mug, then back at the group on the floor. “It’s hard to trust how she sees me. She thinks I’m so much better than I am.”

There’s a long pause while B’Elanna remains silent and several more rounds of laughter circle the room. Then, “Do you trust the way I see you?”

Seven meets B’Elanna’s gaze. “Of course.”

“Then you can trust how Raffi sees you.”

Seven opens her mouth to say that it’s different, but B’Elanna withdraws her hand and drops her gaze, and she suddenly isn’t so sure.

Seven understands why she waited so long to introduce Raffi to this group. She’s done enough research over the years to understand how trauma affects the brain, and she’s aware of the fact that the only reason she felt comfortable with B’Elanna’s visit last month is because—counting Coppelius—they’ve been together for more than twenty months.

Twenty months is how long things lasted with Jay, and while Raffi is nothing like Bjayzl, trauma lives in the body, and Seven’s body keeps telling her not to mix romance and family.

She introduced Raffi and Naomi last year because Naomi begged, because the mission was simple, and because so many people were involved. Never anyone alone with anyone else, always a third or fourth person in the room. Still, after it was over, Seven couldn’t stop moving for days.

There’d been no further introductions to the Voyager crew after that. Seven knew it was a source of tension between them—Raffi opening her life more and more while Seven held hers tighter and tighter, refusing to let Raffi in. They made it work for a while, and then Seven went away. And then the Stargazer happened, and now they’re here. Today.

Seven likes being at the farm because it lets her be with Raffi while also giving her space. There’s always some sort of activity going on, but there are enough people involved that she doesn’t have to participate if she needs to be alone. Like today. Miral has taken it upon herself to educate Elnor in autumn Earth traditions, and the day’s agenda includes apple-picking at a neighboring farm. The orchard is public, so Seven bows out, not up to dealing with curious/hostile stares. Instead, she spends a few hours doing yard work with Ada, grateful for the exercise and the chance at something to do.

“Have you ever jumped in a leaf pile?”

Seven pauses as Ada tosses her rake aside. “Pardon?”

Ada spreads her arms and falls backward into the leaves. “Try it!”

Seven wrinkles her brow.

“Come on. Right here in the middle.”

Seven sighs, but turns around and dutifully falls backward. She has to admit, it does smell nice. Sharp and burnt and a little bit spicy, all of it bound up in sweet. She recalls the hours she spent on Voyager researching Earth’s flora and fauna and realizes it must be the sugars breaking down in the leaves.

“I love fall,” Ada sighs, still spread-eagled. “The light changes, the heat lifts, and everything’s just so beautiful as it decays. It appeals to the Trill in me. And maybe the Bajoran too. Mostly Trill though. My moms have mixed feelings because it’s the anniversary of when they fled the Occupation. But my dad says autumn is the only time humans come close to comprehending the Trill approach to death.”

Another sigh, and then a deep inhale, followed by rustling as Ada spreads her arms wider and arches her back. “Mostly though I love the smell of it. Everything’s so distinct in the fall.”

“It makes sense,” Seven says, squinting up at the sky, a little astonished that the blue can be both so pale and so bright. “The colder something is, the less its molecules move. The air’s slower when it’s colder. You have more time to smell individual scents.”

Ada sits up and smiles down at her. “Exactly. Autumn lends itself to rest. Summer’s so frenetic, especially in agriculture. And the heat drags on for so long. Then autumn comes and it’s like the whole world lifts. The pressure dissipates and you just…slow down.”

“In my line of work, if you slow down, you die.”

Seven doesn’t realize how dark it is until she says it, but Ada takes the comment in stride. “That’s why I love living on a farm. It ties me to the seasons. Taps into my body’s natural rhythms and externalizes them enough to remind me of what I need.”

She stands and holds out her hand, and Seven accepts the help.

“Thank you,” she says once she’s upright and her clothes are free of leaves. “For inviting us. It’s been nice to have the support.”

“Of course,” Ada smiles, picking up her rake. “This is what we want to do with this place. And I’ve wanted to meet you for a while. Miral talks about you so glowingly I was beginning to wonder if you could exist.”

Seven rolls her eyes and Ada winks, and then they head back to the shed to put their rakes away.

road

It’s been a long time since Raffi’s seen autumn leaves. A long, long time. The last time was when she and Cris took a trip to the southern hemisphere on the tenth anniversary of the Mars attack, which also happened to be the tenth anniversary of when Jae told her not to come home. She didn’t mention that, but she figured Rios could guess based on her behavior.

At first it had been jarring, beaming from spring in California to autumn in Australia, the trees ablaze with red and gold. Then it seemed appropriate. Eyewitness reports of the synth attack said the explosions in the atmosphere had been beautiful. So beautiful you almost forgot you were watching a fleet go up in flames.

Sitting on that porch with Rios, drinking bottle after bottle of wine, not talking about Jae and trying not to think of Gabe, it felt a little like the trees were saluting her pain. And then it felt like they were mocking it. And then she stopped registering what she felt at all.

Now Cris is gone—dead for centuries, though she can’t wrap her mind around it—and she’s waking up in a drafty farmhouse ensconced in Seven’s arms. She shivers as she slips out of bed and walks over to the window, looking out at the sun-drenched fields dotted with livestock and haybales, all of it rainbowed in leaves. It’s early and a thin fog still hangs over everything, the same way it clung to the overlook at the cabin six years ago. She feels tears pricking her eyes and then Seven’s arms sliding around her, Seven’s chin coming to rest warm and heavy on her shoulder.

“Hi,” she whispers, kissing Raffi’s cheek.

Raffi can’t speak past the lump in her throat, but Seven doesn’t mind the silence. Seven never minds the silence. She just makes space for it, holding it as gently as she holds Raffi in her arms.

Raffi knew it was coming. She and Seven have talked about the possibility every night since arriving at the farm. But when Elnor finally tells her he wants to go back to Vashti, she cries. They’re outside feeding the animals when he breaks the news, and for a while Raffi can’t say anything, can only stroke the alpaca’s fur.

Elnor watches her for a handful of seconds, then touches her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Baby,” Raffi says, turning and standing on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, “you can never disappoint me by following your truest path. Never, okay?”

Elnor nods—she feels his chin bump her shoulder—and then pulls back and says the one thing Raffi didn’t expect.

“I want Seven to take me.”

She turns back to the alpaca.

“But only if it’s okay with you.”

Raffi laughs through her tears and looks up at the cloudy sky. She knew Seven would have to leave eventually, probably sooner rather than later, but she didn’t think she’d have to say goodbye to both of them at the same time.

“Raffi?”

She sucks in a breath. “I need a minute to myself. I’m sorry, sweetie. This isn’t—I’m not mad at you.” She leans against the fence and presses her palms to her face. “Why don’t you go back to the house and help Tom with dinner? I promise I’ll be okay.”

She will be okay. She just needs to fall apart first.

After Elnor leaves, she steps into the alpaca’s enclosure and buries her face in its neck for as long as it will indulge her. Then she sits in a corner and lets the tears leak down her cheeks.

She’s still crying when B’Elanna ducks between the fence rails and sits down beside her.

“Elnor was worried,” she explains. “Seven’s out riding with Miral, so I offered to check in.” She touches Raffi’s knee. “Are you okay?”

Raffi laces her fingers through B’Elanna’s and uses her other hand to smear the tears off her cheeks. “I’m a mess,” she laughs, then pinches the bridge of her nose to stave off another round of sobs. “I’m sorry. Elnor just—” she pulls in a breath, holds it, and then exhales. “He’s going back to Vashti.”

“Ah.”

“I guess you could say I have abandonment issues.”

B’Elanna huffs a laugh. “Join the club.”

Raffi realizes she’s still holding her hand and releases it sheepishly. “I had a feeling this was coming, but—”

“—knowing something’s coming doesn’t make it easier?”

“Yeah,” Raffi says, smiling weakly. “That.”

B’Elanna plants her elbows on her bent knees and rests her head against the fence. She seems to weigh her words before announcing, “I don’t want Tom to go back to the Delta Quadrant. I want him here with me.”

Raffi sniffs and wipes her cheeks again. “Is there a reason you aren’t going with him?”

B’Elanna sighs. “Is it bad form to say I just don’t want to? Captains give orders, pilots fly the ship, and for them it’s all enormous fun. But it’s different for the engineers. We have to fix the shit the pilots and the captains break. And I mean, no offense to you or Harry, but I don’t get the Starfleet thing.”

Raffi gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Seems like everyone around me feels that way. Makes me wonder if the universe is telling me something. Something like hey Raff, everyone else is getting the hell out of Starfleet, so why do you insist on going down with the ship? Even the goddamn captain opts out sometimes.”

She sighs and blinks back a fresh wave of tears. “First Cris, and then all this stuff with Seven, and now Elnor—” she shakes her head. “When I was younger I could handle anything. Now I feel like a black hole, just sucking everyone in.”

B’Elanna’s hand finds her knee again. “Bullshit. You are a delight. Seven and Elnor are lucky to have you. We are all lucky to have you.”

Raffi smiles sadly. “You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s true. Miral’s wanted to meet you since she found out you and Seven got together. She tries to play it down, but she’s obsessed. Asked me so many questions after we met last month. She wants to call you Aunt Raffi but doesn’t want to freak you out.”

Raffi doesn’t know what to say to that.

B’Elanna looks at her, and there’s a softness to her gaze. “I know what it’s like when people leave. It feels permanent. Like they’re saying you don’t matter. But it isn’t permanent this time, and you do matter. Elnor loves you. He’ll come back. And Seven loves you too.”

Raffi leans her head against the fence and makes a self-deprecating noise.

“I’m serious,” B’Elanna says. “Everyone on Voyager made it work because we had to. Now we have a choice. I’ve watched her choose you over and over these past two years. She’s made some mistakes, but she’s learning. She’s healing. She’s working hard to figure things out. And she’s doing it because she cares about you.”

Raffi hasn’t met many of the former Voyager crew, but the ones she has met have surprised her. She expected their interactions with outsiders to be guarded—the kind of interactions you’d expect from a group who only had each other’s company to sustain them. Perhaps the expectation stems from being with Seven, who never talks about Voyager. Even with Ada and Elnor and Miral as buffers, Raffi expected the older adults to resist her presence here. But instead they’ve shown her only openness. Only care and kindness and love.

She expected them to be loyal to Seven. She didn’t expect them to be loyal to her.

Too many minutes have passed since B’Elanna finished talking, and Raffi still doesn’t know what to say. She admits as much and then apologizes, but B’Elanna waves it away.

“We’re friends here. No need to stand on ceremony. Just take the compliment and move on.”

There’s a beat of silence during which the mood lightens, and then B’Elanna tilts her head.

“Is there a reason why you picked George’s paddock to cry in?”

“George?”

“The alpaca.”

“They named him George?”

“Her. They named her George. And yes. Ada crowdsourced, and Tom thinks he’s funny. Unfortunately, our daughter agrees.”

Raffi bites back a laugh. “I think Elnor wanted me to feel as supported as possible. Before he broke the news he kept emphasizing she’s a comfort alpaca. I like the donkey better though.” She gestures toward the rotund creature rubbing her face on the fence a few feet away.

“Mona Lisa? Yeah, she’s sweet until you take George away. Then she goes berserk.”

Raffi doesn’t bother to hide her laugh this time, and B’Elanna doesn’t either. They lean against each other until tears of mirth spill from their eyes and they have to stand up and duck out of the pen because the animals keep trying to investigate.

As they head back to the house arm in arm, Raffi takes a deep breath and tips her chin to the sky. Cris might be gone, but she still has Seven and Elnor. And now B’Elanna, and all the people that come with her. It feels right. And free. And good.

moon

Seven finds her on the stargazing rock in the empty southwest pasture, hunched over and silvered in the light of the burgeoning moon.

“I brought blankets,” she says, and Raffi stands up so Seven can spread them out. For a while they lie in silence, staring up at the stars and the moon. Seven remembers a shift in Astrometrics when they thought they’d found a shortcut to the Alpha Quadrant and Harry spent three hours telling her about the Sol system. He’d teared up three times showing her pictures of Earth’s moon.

She still doesn’t get the crew’s obsession with this planet, but the moon, well. When it’s pearlescent and full like tonight, it does stir something inside her.

Seven turns her head and kisses Raffi’s temple, listening to the crickets call and breathing in the smoky remnants of the campfire the kids built after dinner and sat around roasting s’mores.

“You seem sad.”

Raffi sighs and scoots down so her head rests on Seven’s shoulder. “Elnor wants to go back to Vashti. And he wants you to take him there.”

“Oh.”

“I was upset at first, but now that I’ve thought about it, it’s a good idea. It’s safer and quicker than a standard transport, and I’ll feel better knowing he’s with you.”

“You could come with us.”

Raffi laughs, and the sound is full of a lot of emotions Seven can’t begin to parse. “I’m not ready to go back to Vashti.” She doesn’t offer more than that, and Seven doesn’t push.

“I’m okay with it. I am. But I need to know you’re coming back. And I need to know when. Not the exact day, I know that’s hard to calculate in your line of work, but I need some sort of timeframe.”

“It takes La Sirena two Earth weeks to get to Vashti. Add a couple days’ buffer time and I can be back in a month.”

Raffi props herself up on one elbow. “No Ranger missions?”

“No Ranger missions. Not this time. I’ll take Elnor to Vashti, come back, and we’ll talk.”

It’s more compromise than she’s offered their whole time together, and the way Raffi pauses indicates  she knows it too. Seven realizes she’s probably trying to find a comparable concession to offer in return. “He wants to leave in four weeks, which would put you back on Earth mid-December. You could ship out again in January when classes start.”

“I could.”

“Or before,” she rushes. “We don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

“Raffi?”

“Hm?”

“You’re pulling the blanket away from my shoulders. It’s letting the cold air in.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you want to go inside?”

“No.” Seven pulls her back down beside her and snugs the blanket around their shoulders. “I want to stay out here under the stars.”

Raffi pops back up. “Hold on, you want to stargaze? First you’re a cat person, then you’re a horse girl, and now you’re downright romantic. I’m learning all sorts of things about you on this farm.”

She laughs as Seven shoves her shoulder, then rolls on top of her and gives her a lazy kiss. “I am not a horse girl,” Seven says a few minutes later, lips close enough to Raffi’s ear to make her shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. “And I’m still trying to figure out romance. But I’ll concede to being a cat person.”

She pulls back, and between the moonlight and her enhanced vision, it’s easy to see Raffi’s grin.

sea

It’s Seven’s idea to take the trip to Bajor. Actually, it’s Seven’s request, and Seven rarely asks for anything that involves them spending time together rather than apart, so when she asks Raffi to come with her to the Bajoran Art Center for Healing and Reclamation, Raffi doesn’t think twice before saying yes.

Elnor opts to stay on the farm because he’s too invested in befriending the animals (and mildly heartbroken that a combination of Vashti’s import-export laws and Seven’s refusal to ferry livestock prevents him from taking a cow to Zani). Seven seems relieved that it’s just the two of them, and once she explains what she’ll be doing at the Center, Raffi understands why she doesn’t want extra people around.

They do, however, take Blue, along with the tiny harness Ada knit for her out of dark red yarn.

(“This cat isn’t even five months old and she’s already spoiled rotten,” Raffi announces when Ada tries the harness on for size.) (“This cat is my dearest companion,” Elnor replies. “Along with George and Clem and Mona Lisa and…”) (he continues to list animals until Seven stops him) (Miral laughs until she cries)

Raffi’s heard of the art center. Everyone who lived through the Dominion War has. But she’s never taken the time to really research what they do. Even after Seven explains it, she isn’t sure how it works. Just that it involves the orbs, vedeks, sharing memories, and a range of mental health professionals, most of them trained in therapeutic art.

Seven’s art therapist is Naomi Wildman.

“Actually,” Seven says after the fifth time she’s explained the process, “don’t think of her as my therapist. Think of her as a family member who’s using her training to create something I can’t express on my own.”

It’s the freest Seven has been with information on who she considers family, and Raffi’s a little bowled over from the sheer openness of it all.

Naomi doesn’t have to be present for the memory extraction (“it’s not extraction,” she explains, “it’s more like…duplication”), and Seven would prefer that only essential personnel be in the room while she relives what happened on La Sirena in 2024, so after Seven checks in and hugs them both goodbye, Naomi takes Raffi to see another mural she painted.

Raffi isn’t sure what she expected it to depict, but when she sees it, it knocks her over.

“That’s—”

“The Artifact,” Naomi confirms, stepping forward and taking Blue so Raffi can run her hands along the mural’s lines.

Raffi never saw the Artifact crash on Coppelius. She saw the aftermath, and she heard the story secondhand from Elnor, has seen the scars on Seven’s back and been so careful to avoid them. But she’s never been so conscious of how little she understands what Seven experienced.

Until now.

Raffi stands in front of Naomi’s painting and soaks it all in. The pain, the fear, the connection, the euphoria. That deep and staggering grief as thousands of xBs got sucked into space. She stands there, hands pressed to the warm bricked wall, fingers tracing the lines as they twist and swirl, and feels. After years of wondering what Seven went through, it is suddenly all so real.

It takes her a long time to notice the rest of the story. She doesn’t until her eye catches on the thread of blue that starts in the center of the exploding Artifact and carries outward, through the crash and Coppelius and the Federation’s negotiations, drawing her gaze to the lone figure walking away from it all. The blue is a light blue, an icy blue, electric and electrifying, so different from the sickly green that makes up the rest of the scenes.

“Is that—?”

“Seven.”

“And is this—?”

“How she feels about it? Yes. Sort of. I may have evoked more healing than she was feeling at the time. But that’s the point of this place. People come here feeling broken and we help them make sense of their experiences so they can start to feel whole.”

Naomi steps forward and brushes her thumb along the blue-wreathed figure. “It’s one of the most crucial steps when treating trauma. You can’t begin to heal until you can tell yourself what happened. That’s what I help people do. They give me their memories, and I externalize them, interpret them into something they can see. From there, they’re able to assemble the narrative.”

They sit in front of the mural for a long time, long enough that the sun sets and one of Bajor’s moons begins to rise. Raffi loops Blue’s leash around the leg of the bench and Naomi plays with her until she falls asleep in Raffi’s lap.

“I’m glad she has this,” Raffi says, gesturing toward the mural. “I’m glad she has you.”

Naomi looks at her, bemused. “You know you’re the reason she made it off Coppelius, right?”

“I’m what?”

“You, Raffi. You’re the reason she made it out alive. She was reeling after her time as the Queen. It should have broken her. But it didn’t, because you were there.”

Raffi blinks and feels the hairs lift on her arms. “She looked fine. A little haunted maybe, but she always looks haunted.”

Naomi shakes her head. “She almost died. And then she wanted to die. When I painted this piece for her, that was the hardest part to absorb. What she went through out there…it put her back in a really bad place. And having you there, someone who was interested in her, but wasn’t pushing their own agenda? That’s what pulled her back from the edge.”

Raffi grips the bench and sways forward. “I had no idea.”

“Your likeness may not be in the painting, but your spirit is all through it. You’re the thing that anchors it. The reason it even exists.” Naomi turns back to the wall. “I think that’s why she brought you here. So you could see what she can’t say.”

Seven doesn’t speak for an entire day after the procedure. Naomi says that’s normal—especially for someone like Seven—and so they spend her silent hours hiking one of the Dahkur province’s forested parks. It’s spring on Bajor and everything smells green and alive. It helps. Then Raffi says goodbye to Naomi and beams back to the ship with Blue.

Two days later, Seven beams back too.

“Thank you,” she says, giving Raffi a fierce hug. “For coming with me. And for giving me time with Naomi. The re-entry is…rough.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to stay longer?”

Seven shakes her head. “No. I’ve shared the memories. That was the hardest part. It’s up to Naomi now.”

stars

She’s so used to regenerating in the trailer simulation that she forgets Raffi’s never seen it before.

“When did you make this?” Her eyes land on the hammock, and Seven blushes.

“About a year ago. The poles and the hammock are the only things I added. Everything else is the same. Or was the same. I guess it isn’t accurate now that we’ve built the porch swing. I can fix that though, if you want.”

She hasn’t rambled like this around Raffi for a long time. A long time. Blue squirms in her arms and she bends over to put her down, then straightens and resists the urge to clasp her hands behind her back.

“I love it,” Raffi says, walking up the steps and running her fingers along the hammock’s netting. Blue follows her up and starts to gambol across the porch. “Do you regenerate in here?”

Seven nods. “Harry helped me code the program.” She pauses. “I wanted to get more comfortable with the holodeck, and this seemed like a good first step. Naomi found Rios’s costume closet a few months after I took over La Sirena, and I got a little in my head.”

“In your head about what?”

Seven scuffs her boot in the holographic sand. “About not being fun enough. For you.”

Raffi makes a noise and walks back down the steps. “The holodeck was my thing with Cris. I never had that expectation for you.”

“That’s what Tom said. But I tend to over-prepare.”

Raffi grins and loops her arms around her neck, and Seven’s happy to see that she can grin so soon after mentioning Cris. “Well I think it’s very sweet that you went to all this trouble just to make a holoprogram I wasn’t ever meant to see.”

Seven bites her lip. “I did it to feel more comfortable on the holodeck, but I also did it because I wanted to feel more comfortable with you.” She winces. “I mean, not with you—I was already comfortable with you on Coppelius, but…comfortable in your home. All the little pieces of you.”

Raffi’s giving her that look again, the look full of eighteen warring emotions, all of them too complex for Seven to sort out. “That,” she says, voice just barely above a whisper, “is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. And I hope you know it’s your home too. For whenever you want to claim it.”

They’re standing so close that Seven doesn’t have to lean to meet Raffi’s lips. But she does sway forward, her weight and warmth a balance to Raffi’s as they kiss.

Seven’s never been good with words, especially around someone like Raffi. Someone who makes her understand what people mean when they say I want to give them the world. But as she reaches first one hand and then the other up to frame Raffi’s face, she tries to put all the emotion she’s never been able to express into that touch.

“You’re my home, Raff,” she whispers when they break apart. “You. It’s always been you.”

And that, she realizes, is more than enough.