Turning Point
Raffi ran her fingers through her hair, braiding and unbraiding it as Deanna spoke. Seven failing to open up was hardly surprising, but she expected an empath to get something out of her. She should have gone down herself, Starfleet be damned.
Meanwhile, Captain Janeway held Deanna to account, treating her more like an enemy prisoner than a respected officer. Raffi was impressed at Deanna's unflinching composure as she faced a tirade of increasingly ridiculous accusations.
Naomi Wildman nudged Raffi. “Some kind of heroes, huh,” she muttered.
“Starfleet’s finest,” Raffi muttered, pressing her lips together and inhaling slowly. In better days she'd have relished this drama - popcorn in hand - but there was no time for theatrics. She moved to interrupt, but didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.
The atmosphere became charged as Janeway rounded angrily on Deanna. "So this is all my fault, then?" Janeway spat at Deanna, her voice carrying an unmistakable edge. "She causes an international incident and you let her feelings stop you from finding out the truth?"
Deanna shifted in place, eyes bright with rage. "What should I have done, Admiral? Put a gun to her head and force her to suffer through her personal trauma?"
Janeway stepped closer still, her fists still clenched. "I assumed Starfleet counselors had other tools at their disposal."
"This situation doesn't need a counselor - it needs a janitor to mop up the mess you've made!"
And so it went, on and on, until Raffi hit her limit. She put her fingers to her lips and blew out an ear-shattering whistle. “Is this how you survived the Delta Quadrant?!? With childish posturing?”
Janeway’s face froze in shock. If Raffi didn’t know better, she’d say her ears were actually steaming, like an old-timey cartoon character. After a moment, she raised her hands in submission, chagrined. “And a lot of luck,” she said with a wan smile. She turned to Deanna, the fire gone from her voice. “Did Seven give you anything before she cut you off?”
Deanna slowly shook her head. “We need a witness. Seven's got mountains of bravado covering up the sources of her trauma. Not unlike some Starfleet captains I've been lucky to know," she said with a pointed look at Janeway.
Janeway smiled sadly at that. "One of the things I wish she hadn't learned from me."
“We could try contacting the Rangers,” Raffi said, frustrated. “There must have been a witness there. A friend. Someone who saw the frog boiling.”
"Not a bad idea." Janeway drifted toward the starboard window. The stars cast beams of light down upon her face like prison bars. "There is another living witness, one who recorded everything that happened." Janeway dropped her chin, weaving her fingers together before pulling them apart and wiping her hands against her uniform jacket. "Seven herself."
Hands visibly shaking, Janeway connected a data pad to the ready room terminal. Deanna suddenly looked at her with such softness that Raffi was afraid of what they were about to see.
The screen lit up and and a stream of messages cascaded before them on the screen, message upon message upon message, over a span of years.
“I thought I was bad at responding to messages,” Raffi said, attempting a lightness she didn't actually feel. She thought of all the times she'd been apart from Seven, clinging desperately to the few crumbs she'd receive, months apart. Here were hundreds of messages - week after week, month after month, unending prayers sent without even hope of response. Maybe she was the idiot all along. Apparently Seven was capable of communicating like a normal human.
“A Captain must be exemplary at all things,” Janeway said, dryly. Her eyes scanned up and down the screen, focusing on nothing in particular. “Seven said she fell in love, and I...I couldn't bear to hear more." She turned and made eye contact with Raffi, the first time she'd looked at anyone directly for a few minutes. "One thing she said....Seven said ‘she always knows what I need before I do, sometimes before I’ve even begun to consider the problem’. That doesn’t sound like Seven, does it? Her cortical node allows her to process mountains of data before they're even twinkles in a normal eye.”
“You think Bjayzl was manipulating her,” Deanna said. “If we can prove she was misusing her powers, then the Psionics won't have their golden propaganda child anymore. They won't want this getting out!”
"Exactly." Janeway swallowed. “I didn’t listen when she needed me. So now I’m going to listen twice as hard.”
“Isn’t this kind of…a violation of her privacy?”
Janeway pulled up close to Raffi, staring up at her, jaw set firmly forward. She continued, deadly soft, “Do you have a better plan, Commander? If so, I’d love to hear it.”
The woman was honestly more terrifying when she whispered than when she shouted. And did she have to stand so close? Raffi wasn’t sure if she was scared or a little turned on.
She swallowed and shook her head. “Nope,” she squeaked. “Sounds good to me.”
“Alright then.” Janeway drew in a deep, long breath. “Let’s do it.”