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"Hey, hey. Hey."
Sometimes, it's Raffi that pulls Seven from her nightmares. Her arm reaches into the depths of her dreams, sticky and thick and too dense to move in, and she pulls her out. Seven swims, thrashes with all her might, struggling to find the sound of Raffi's voice, the warmth of her skin. Everything around her is cold – her blood is frozen, her clothes heavy with sea water and clinging to her skin. The waves overtake her, her grip on Raffi's presence loosens and she is plunged back into the depths.
"Come back to me, Seven."
But Raffi doesn't relent. That was Seven's saving grace.
Words or touch - it's one or the other that pulls Seven ashore, leaving her gasping and shivering but more importantly alive. Alive in Raffi's arms, drenched in her sweat like a drowned rat, heaving into her skin as Raffi runs her hand through her stringy hair, shushing her.
Not again. No one says it, but it's both felt as their hearts sink into one another, as Seven's gasps crash against Raffi's slow breaths like uneven waves against sea-suspended sand.
"Don't apologise," Raffi murmurs before Seven can even open her mouth. They've been through this too many times that it's almost like a scene from a play, the same words rehearsed over and over again. They have both spent many nights playing both parts, wondering if they could ever skip to the end of the chapter.
Healing, of course, is slower than that. More gruelling. Forcing them to get the repetitions in, to practice being hurt over and over again, so that they could practice recovery from it.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Raffi offers, another line from their script.
Seven shakes her head. A common stage direction.
But something different comes in the scene.
A small weight hops onto the mattress, sinking the end where Seven's legs were curled up. It meowed, softly – a foreign sound in their well-known exercise.
Evie. That damn cat Raffi had found in the middle of nowhere.
She pads her way up Seven's body, her paws pressing heavy on her legs, her thighs, alternating between that and the coverlets she had kicked aside in her sleep, sinking into them. The unevenness doesn't seem to phase her as she noses her way in between Seven and Raffi.
"Oh." Raffi shuffles backward, and moves Seven so that she lay down fully on her back. Evie comes up on Seven's torso, giving her tear-stained face a few sniffs.
"Hey. I'm alright." Seven can't help but break a smile as she runs her metal-capped fingers down the cat's long fur, feeling it rustle between her skin. Unconvinced, Evie elects to curl up on her chest.
"Evie –"
Evie starts purring then, unrelenting – and loud. So loud that it vibrates through Seven's skin and down to her racing heart, reverberating through her ribcage. Seven continues to stroke her, feeling her breath slow with Evie's purrs. Feeling rather comforted by the weight sat on her chest.
"Oh, sweetie." Raffi lets out a breathy chuckle as she reaches over to scratch the top of Evie's head. "Such a good girl, aren't you?"
"You know, you're not really allowed on the bed," Seven protests weakly, though her gaze is trained on Evie's face, contended and serene, even as she purrs hard enough to imitate a miniature warp core.
"I think we both know what's happening to this rule." Raffi leans over and presses a kiss to Seven's forehead. "I'll get us some water?"
"Raffi, wait." Seven says, clutching her hand. Raffi curls into her touch, shuffles upward so Seven can just about rest her head on her shoulder. "Mmhmm?"
"Stay a while. With me." Please.
That was something new. But Raffi has never been one to follow a script, anyway.
"Of course, honey." She settles beside Seven, her hands reaching to pet the fluffy lump on Seven's chest.
Beneath the rumble of purring, Seven finds the voice to talk.