Sense of an Ending
Seven creaked out of bed as she heard voices approaching the door. She recognized their voices - two baby-faced guards who couldn't even look at her without quaking in their boots. They were so lacking in utility that the Borg would have ripped them from limb to limb and reassembled them into useful drones.
"Well if isn't dumb and dumber," Seven said brightly when the door opened. She moved close to them, delighting in watching their eyes bug out in fear. "What'd you do to get sent here, leave a whoopee cushion on the warden's chair?"
"You think you're funny, don't you," said the first guard, a gaunt specimen who looked like he hadn't seen the sun in at least a year.
Seven pressed her lips together and shrugged. "A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere."
"Well it won't be here," the second guard said, lurching into the cell and grabbing Seven by the shoulder. He shoved her out of the cell.
"What the hell's going on?"
"The judiciary has dropped all charges," said the second guard. "You're free to go."
Seven swung around to look the men in the eye, afraid this was some kind of joke. "You're serious?"
"Unfortunately."
Seven's mind went into overdrive. She tried to order her thoughts, but it had been so long since she'd regenerated that they remained scattered in her brain. She fixated on her cell, her temporary home these last few weeks. They were a form of sanctity, those four walls. No one could hurt her there.
"Move along now," the first guard said.
Seven clutched her hands behind her back and began walking. "What happens now?"
"Someone's come to pick you up."
Seven's stomach dropped. "Who?"
"We don't ask questions. We're just here to bring you from here to there."
"Sure that isn't too much responsibility for you?"
Neither guard responded. Seven decided to stop poking and prodding them - she'd be rid of them soon enough. Sunlight crept through the sides of the loosening iron door, and her heart began to race. She swallowed firmly, willing the acid back into her stomach - she would play it cool, she thought. She won't react. She'll express the appropriate amount of gratitude and then face her emotions at the bottom of a fancy bottle of scotch. Provided Voyager even had alcohol.
One of the guards prodded her out the door, then receded, shutting the thick iron door with a loud clang. A woman slowly took shape as her eyes adjusted to the bright light from Betazed's two suns. A mound of curls, a slim black utility uniform, hands clasped in front of her. She let out a deep breath in relief. It was Raffi.
"Oh thank the Gods," Raffi said, running toward Seven and wrapping her in her arms. Seven gingerly put an arm back around her, then leaned in entirely. Her heartbeat slowed as her body absorbed Raffi's genuine warmth and affection. After many long moments, they separated, still clutching each other's hands.
"You were right about shore leave," Raffi said, smiling despite the tears falling down her face.
"We should have just parked La Sirena behind an asteroid cluster and stayed in," Seven said with a rueful smile. She let Raffi pull her to the nearby shuttle.
"And miss all this fun?" Raffi sat in the pilot's chair and punched in a series of commands - the shuttle lifted off with a shudder.
Seven remained standing by the bulkhead door. The bile in her stomach began to rise again. She gingerly took a step forward, reached out, and then retracted her hand. "How'd you get me out?"
Raffi pressed the auto-pilot button then got up and stood before Seven. She clutched her arms close and looked away - her roiling emotions were written all over her face. "Seven -- I. Well I don't even know where to start."
Seven gently clasped her arm. "Anywhere you want. I'm here now."
Raffi's big, watery eyes caught Seven's own, and held them there. "We'll talk tomorrow. You probably need to regenerate."
Sigh. That didn't sound good. Seven shivered - the air in the shuttle was cold and dry, not unlike her cell. She realized with a start that she was on the Delta Flyer, whose windows used to reveal the strangest stars in the universe. She closed her eyes, attempting to halt the waterfall of memories cascading through her circuits - the Captain rescuing her from the Borg Queen, from Tsunkatse, from her own mind damaged by conspiracy theories.
Stardate Today, another today, she thought, gazing out the window at the starship looming ever larger in their view. For a brief second she wondered if she could escape, take the controls, take Raffi and run off into some hidden corner of the galaxy, but she knew that was weakness. She gazed upon the back of Raffi's head and a wave of sadness passed over her; she sensed an inevitable ending approaching, approaching much too soon.
When they arrived on Voyager, Seven hauled her weary limbs onto the shuttle bay deck. She collapsed against the shuttle, bone tired. In her last moments of consciousness, she heard a very familiar voice order order a site-to-site transport to Cargo Bay two, and then she was out.