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Everything was easier in the early days post-Coppelius. They burned fast and bright. Seven is more than accustomed to short-lived flames. Flings that often don’t last longer than daybreak, never long enough to watch a season change.
She leaves before they can get to know her. Before they get they have the opportunity to prove her fears right.
It used to be a conscious choice, to let things dissolve before anyone got the chance to decide she was too damaged to be worth the effort. Now, she has no choice in the matter - it’s a learned pattern of behaviour, pure habit. She sabotages at every chance she gets. She’s ready to bristle at any and every comment. Poised to lash out at any opening. One big row to seal their fate and bury all possibility of a future that could never be.
Raffi doesn’t work like that. She rebounds like rubber, bends but does not break.
Raffi lets Seven vent. Doesn’t rise to the argument. Or when one finally bubbles over, she gives Seven space, regroups and returns.
Why? Seven wants to ask her so many times.
So many questions - they all boil down to one at its core. Why me?
Despite all of her best efforts to the contrary. Severn can not help the affection that begins to form. Like a flower that takes root and blossoms in the most odd of places. A barren desert, or the cracks of a desolate wall. It thrives against all odds.
Even before she can admit the obvious to herself - Seven cares for Raffi.
She can’t stand the look of hurt that flashes through Raffi’s eyes. Or how she tried to quickly hide it when Seven’s patterns of behaviour persists.
It fills Seven with self-loathing. Fuels her certainty that this can not work. That she can not work. Not any more. Not again.
She doesn’t want to hurt Raffi. So she feigns disinterest. Consciously reduces her touches, creates distance between them. Retracts from conversations. It’s usually a surefire winner in hastening the inevitable end.
But the pain in Raffi’s eyes as Seven shrinks from her touch is like a knife to the gut. She’s a coward, and has terrible resolve when face to face with the consequences of her actions.
For Seven, it’s easier to leave. To wait for time and space to do what she cannot.
***
Seven has resolved, firm and strong to leave Raffi alone. To let her be. But she couldn’t let go entirely. Raffi still sent her regular messages, greetings, titbits from her days, and enquiries on Seven’s well-being.
The voice in her head reasoned that Raffi might think that this was her fault. A chip that weakened Seven’s armour and she reasoned she could allow herself a message to Raffi - just to check in.
One week later they are still messaging back and forth. Another and Seven had taken her downtime and rendezvoused as promised to spend time with Raffi and they are walking hand in hand in some vintage market.
Seven has never really put down roots long enough to have a planet-based home to call her own. But she listens to Raffi's plans to move from her dessert trailer to make a fresh start in the land of the living as Raffi calls it. Seven doesn’t voice that she’ll miss the trailer or the memories she has with Raffi there - because Raffi deserves a fresh start, away from the memories that live there. Seven’s bad memories aren’t tied to a place, they are woven into her to carry wherever she goes.
Seven tries to stay present and supportive of Raffi, even pointing out some paintings to Raffi that she thinks look nice. It was intended as a passing comment, but Raffi had bargained and agreed a price with the seller before Seven could blink twice. Then they leave hand in hand with the three small paintings packaged neatly up, and Seven wonders what it means when the woman you like, buys the paintings you like, to decorate her intended new apartment.
Moments like these don’t last long for Seven.
She never blends into the crowd. For a few moments, she’s walking on air, arms wrapped around Raffi. Before she starts to notice the furtive glances, the looks that linger a little while too long. Then the stares. Then the glowering all aimed at her, but by extension of the embrace - at Raffi too.
Seven lets her arms drop, trying to be subtle. Then creates some space between their bodies. Seven was used to these looks, and while she didn’t enjoy them, she understood the reasoning behind them. Too many people's lives have been affected first or secondhand by the Borg - and even more have been affected by extension.
Seven was trying to protect her - but Raffi just looked hurt as Seven retracted.
Those around her are always hurt either by, or because of her, no matter what Seven does.
She needs to leave.
Again.
Soon.
Raffi deserves more than this.
Someone who she can be with. Out in public.
Who's there when she needs.
How she needs.
***
Of all the bad habits Seven has picked up. Returning to Raffi is the least destructive, at least for herself, of them all. Raffi makes Seven want to be a better person. To be a more trusting person - more open, more worthy of the defections Raffi bestows upon her.
Seven has always been in awe of Raffi's strength. How she continues to get up again and again. No matter how much she stumbles. How openly she wears her vices. How honest she is about her struggles and recovery.
Seven’s been away - again - for weeks - again. But once more found herself corresponding, even if on a somewhat erratic schedule with Raffi. She begins to look forward to the moments of normalcy, while out doing the dirty work of the galaxy. Seven finds herself looking forward to a time when she can return to see Raffi in person again. Then one night Raffi drops, what may of in hindsight of been a hint, mention of a gal event she needs to attend and has a plus one for. And Seven’s calendar is wide open - or at least has nothing that’s not easily reassignable - on those dates, and she’s well overdue a little downtime.
So she finds herself, using a few days of that precious downtime to travel back to Earth and spend it with Raffi. Getting herself gussied up - fretting over her makeup and attire. But finding it all worthwhile for Raffi’s smile.
Raffi asks Seven for her drinks order. Request the bartender pour Seven a generous measure of neat bourbon as requested, and then orders a club soda for herself.
Seven’s raised eyebrow at Raffi’s drink selection does not go unnoticed.
“I've not had a drink in 14 days. No snake leaf in 12 weeks.” Raffi informs her.
Seven had known Raffi was steering clear of narcotics - but not that she’s yet extended her sobriety to alcohol too.
“It’s early days” Raffi shrugs, nonchalantly.
“Raff”, Seven touches her arms to punctuate a point that dies on her lips. She can’t find the words that sound right. To say what - that she is proud of her? Believes in her? Something else entirely?
So instead, Seven raises her glass. Raffi joins the gesture and clinks their glasses together.
“Cheers to that”
When she kisses Raffi later that night - she tastes of citrus. The lime wedges that had garnished the soda drinks all night. And Seven realises, with a slow rising horror, that Raffi can probably taste the bourbon on her. The burn of guilt eclipses the alcohol's warmth.
For the remaining days of her visit, she can barely bring herself to give Raffi more than a chaste kiss. She could abstain. But alcohol affects her differently than it does humans. There’s no buzz, no stupor. But what it does do is turn down the background noise from her Borg systems. Dull the effects of her nano-probes, and all in all make her feel more human. It’s all she has. All she can do to here herself bear her existence.
The lack of intimacy and affection from Seven does not go unnoticed by Raffi. She doesn’t push Seven on what is wrong. But Seven can see her retreat inside herself. Seven can see how toxic she is in this situation.
Raffi deserves someone who can support her. Not someone who drinks to her sobriety with spirits.
****
Things changed after they returned from the past. There was a level of acceptance Seven had never before felt in her body.
Something about being an imperfect human had let her embrace her true imperfect self. A chimaera of human and Borg, and yet so much more than a sum of her parts.
Nothing about the way Raffi treated her had changed, but Seven's perspective and acceptance of it had.
She’s seen the look in Raffi’s eyes reflected in the mirror, and the way she’d jumped as Seven wrapped her arm around her and assigned Raffi the title of girlfriend to the security guard in Markridge tower.
It was so easy to make Raffi happy. So why had Seven found these simple steps so hard?
She heard something else in Raffi's words.
“How much more you could do, how much more you could be. If you just stopped running”
She heard a third unspoken sentence.
“How much more *we* could be”
The choice of happiness seems like such a simple one.
Seven would like to make Raffi happy - she would like to be happy.
They both could be.
And for a while - they truly were.
***
Seven knows she represents a simulation of Raffi's losses. Gabe, Jae, Elnor. And there are others, those whom Seven does not know the names of but their story are woven in and out of Raffi's life. Raffi holds onto some part of those who pass through her trajectory. There's a list of those who have slipped through her grasp that now informs the urge to hold tighter.
There was a time, not too long in the distance past when Raffi answered the same itch that afflicts Seven in abundance. The one to move, and keep moving. To get out there, into the wider galaxy. To seek meaning. A greater purpose. A vocation.
Sometimes it's the fear of loss, over the loss itself that is most painful.
Seven knows that when Raffi first rejoined Starfleet, not long after they had both met. Rafif had dallied with the idea of rejoining Starfleet intelligence, had a brief mission that seemed to put to bed some demons - not that she could talk about it much. But ultimately chose to take up a position at Starfleet Academy.
A masterstroke engineered by Picard. Perhaps with the most altruistic of intent. It kept Raffi Earth-based. Working under Picard as chancellor. And a ward of sorts to Elnor who had also joined the academy.
It was easy to see the movements looking in from the outside.
Seven herself wasn’t immune to his puppeteering.
A temporary field command.
The first lure back to Starfleet. Somewhere she had wanted to belong for so long, but now so long ago. It was hard to ratify all that had happened in Seven’s life since she first applied, with where she found herself now - being counted by Starfleet command. Championed by yet another admiral.
Seven had never been great at following orders. She had learned the rules by rote, so she knew exactly which ones she was bending or disregarding.
Perhaps it had been too long now, operating within the rangers. A looser more free-form structure of governance, to go back to such a formal command. And yet. Maybe that was what she had wanted all along.
To recreate that stability she had on Voyager.
To feel part of a greater purpose. Not just fighting to stay afloat in a desperate and despairing section of the Galaxy. Could she make a difference? Could she belong?
Or had she just been Picarded?
Either way. Raffi seemed elated when Seven accepted - and perhaps for once, that was enough for Seven.
***
Seven had been offered cadet accommodation on her admittance into the accelerated academy programme. She was an oddity amongst her peers. Most young and fresh-faced and just a bout to begin in the start of their careers. Seven was a mature student - and one of the first to partake in the accelerated programme. A programme she was reassured was not JUST for her benefit.
There were plenty of potential recruits who had an equivalent career with another space-faring agency. From a non-federated species. Starfleet wanted the best the Galaxy had to offer. An accelerated programme could make it easier to convert from an equivalent programme or with excessive relevant experience. At least that was the idea.
Raffi had offered Seven, in the most casual of ways, the opportunity to instead stay with her. The transporter commute was minimal, and Raffi was doing it on a daily basis anyway.
“Unless Seven would prefer to experience the campus lifestyle?”
Seven would not. Of that she is sure.
***
It’s comfortable. Home making with Raffi.
There are a thousand tiny moments - each feels like Seven’s favourite one. A hot cup of coffee handed to her on waking. Her favourite meal ready after a tough day. Arms wrapping around her from behind, and holding her in an embrace while she recycles their dishes. Kind words and gentle encouragement.
Study and Starfleet are a new challenge for Seven. One where her life, or the world isn’t at stake, and yet it has been one of her most challenging.
Her past years have been about action, not policy and politics. Starfleet has rules and regulations in abundance. It’s the trade for operating within such a large galactic entity. It’s the price she’s paid for infrastructure and security. It’s where she needs to be to finally have the power to make a difference.
The Rangers had started with the best of intentions, but time had drained their resources and reliability. Sometimes she had worried they were becoming as no good as Starfleet had branded them. Mercenaries and vigilantes. Back then she could tell herself she had no other option. This was all she could do to try and help those that the galaxy had turned its back on. But when Starfleet had come knocking - she finally had another choice.
It was not her voice that rang ever more frequently in Seven’s ears. The closer she came to completing her study.
“The only thing harder than dating a civilian is making it work with a fellow officer”
While so many aspects of her life have been difficult of late, her relationship with Raffi has not. And she’s finally come to accept that that is what it is. A relationship. Their relationship. Something akin to commitment. And as much as labels cause a rising panic within her. Raffi is a calming balm.
***
Raffi will never leave Seven. It’s an absolute certainty for Seven.
It provides both security and a sense of overwhelming responsibility.
Her presence is a barrier to Raffi progressing. To Raffi realising her fullest potential.
Seven had thought Raffi was content with teaching.
After 2024, perhaps things had changed. Or perhaps Seven has not been present enough to pay proper attention. Too wrapped up in her own tribulations, to look up and see.
Raffi knows how Sevens day has been just by the way she walks through the door. Just by the way she says hello. She isn’t sure of her ability to do the same. It feels like a fundamental flaw in her personality.
The first time Seven realises Raffi might be drawn to something more than teaching again is the evening she sits her down and outlines the little that she is allowed to share. She’s been headhunted for a mission. It’s a black directive. Undercover. She would be predominantly working solo.
They want Raffi. And even Seven can see immediately how much that means to her. To be needed. To have purpose.
“You accepted immediately,” Seven asked.
“No, no.” Raffi rounds the chairs and lays a hand on Seven’s arm moving, closer to her.
I told them I needed to talk to you first. We need to have a discussion first.
She purses her lips together and nods slowly. Fighting against the rising feeling of nausea.
There’s a choice to be made about her future. About their future.
The paths to each of their futures may need to diverge.
A compromise on career path would ensure they stayed together. In this comfortable normality that had started to form around them.
Seven listens, more than talks. Accepts Raffi’s thanks for letting her talk it all out, when in truth Seven didn’t trust herself to open her mouth. She took in every argument Raffi made for and against.
There was little Raffi could share about the actual mission - so little she possibly knew. Everything Raffi could say against, it seemed to be down to them. It wasn’t in what Raffi said. It was the looks she gave Seven punctuating each point.
She’d be away from Earth. (and Seven)
This home (She was making with Seven)
The Academy (and Seven)
My family (Seven). She said that staring directly into Seven’s eyes, the intensity could have bowled Seven over. She placed her hands over Raffi; 's and squeezed.
Raffi light up when talking about getting back into the field again. She was solemn and dedicated when she alluded to the consequences if this mission were not a success.
Seven found her tongue to ask one question.
“How soon do you need to let them know your decision”
“Our decision” Raffi contradicted her.
“I asked them to give me the weekend…Wait, you were going to tell me something?”
“Oh, just that I made dinner” Seven lied.
Seven had her own decision to make. She had her options for Starfleet assignment - the final stages after leaving her Academy pathways.
There was a scientific ship leaving, but it would be five months out in the ether before it returned to back to the Sol system. Scientific exploration played to Seven’s strengths. A relatively small crew. It was just the time.
She hadn’t had the chance to get to investigate or get to know the senior crew she would be serving with. She’d had a brief meeting with the Captain. He would have had to approve her assignment to his crew, but something about it, about that way he looked at her seemed off.
She could wait. Reject the ship assignment. Wait for something closer or short-term to become available.
She’s planned to talk to Raffi about it, seek her counsel - but that was before.
Something clarified in her mind, that had started to dawn the moment Raffi told her. Raffi wants this mission. Raffi needs this. But once again Seven is holding her back.
Seven mind is capable of running thousands of simulations a minute. She can picture thousands of possible outcomes. Earth burning. Starfleet Falling. Worlds Ending. Pain and Suffering. And the heavy toll of Raffi’s guilt if she believes for one moment that she could have - but failed to do something.
Seven can tell herself she’s doing this for the greater good. For the world. For Raffi.
***
There are two days.
They're not together, but not apart.
They are living like awkward roommates.
Raffi should have asked her to leave - or Seven should have offered. But she never thought to.
Seven’s staying on the couch. It's the least she can do. She doesn’t need sleep. So she sits awake, staring into the dark while the memory plays over and over again in her mind.
“I think we should cease our partnership”
“Come again”
Raffi’s eyes searched her face looking for a crack of a smile to indicate this is a joke. Wondering if this is just another of Seven’s malapropisms.
“I have accepted a commission. It will involve a significant stint in deep space. And I believe this would be easier on us both if there were no romantic entanglement involved.”
Raffi’s fork clattered as it slipped through her fingers and hit the floor.
They navigate around each other. The bonds that held them together were starting to fray. Their orbits are starting to diverge.
There is a moment when despite everything Seven wonders if Raffi is still going to stay. That somewhere deep down Raffi doesn’t believe in Seven’s words. She will fight her on it. Call Seven our on her bulshit.
There’s one final push. Reverse psychology. The slightest of suggestions - that maybe returning to intelligence work isn’t the smartest idea for Raffi. Maybe she can’t do it. Perhaps it isn't the best course of action so early in her recovery.
Seven can’t look Raffi in the eye when she says it. She doesn’t need to know exactly what she will see. A knife to the heart. A final betrayal.
But Raffi needs to go. With no ties and no regrets.
She’s setting them free.
Seven said what she said. Choices have been made. But she so desperately wants to take it all back.