Love Her Like Me, a startrek: voyager fanfic

Love Her Like Me

Based on: Star Trek Voyager

Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

If, during his six years on Voyager, the Doctor had been asked for his opinion on Commander Chakotay, it would have been a positive one. He ate well, exercised regularly, never tried to dodge treatment or sneak out of Sickbay early, unlike a certain contrary Chief Engineer. His levels of stress hormones were quite low for a human, possibly a benefit of his Native spirituality, and though the Doctor had no religious beliefs of his own, he respected them in others. So, overall, the Doctor had nothing against his First Officer.

Not until he entered the holodeck to find a roast chicken and two glasses of wine. Candles and piano music. An unconscious Seven of Nine in a red silk dress with a Chakotay hologram bending over her. "We were having an argument and she just... collapsed."

You can take her,
make her change her name;
you and your old money
dance around the flame –
but you can never, never love her like me.

Soon enough, it became clear that Seven had been using the holodeck to craft a fantasy love affair with the simulated Chakotay. Her emotions had been so strong as to set off a Borg fail-safe mechanism; in effect, she almost died for love.

It was the Doctor who saved her life, but the first word from her lips was "Commander".

A month later, she asked him to remove the failsafe, for the real Chakotay this time.

It happened so fast. They were seen holding hands in the corridors and kissing in the turbolifts. Seven's alcove was moved to Chakotay's quarters. They even had a non-denominational Starfleet wedding, presided over by a bright and smiling Captain – too bright and smiling, the Doctor thought, as she dictated the marriage vows to Chakotay's collar instead of making eye contact.

The bride wore her silver suit, the one that made her look like a gliding moonbeam, and carried a bouquet of Antarean moonflowers. The Doctor gave her away, his smile every bit as gallant as the Captain's. If he cried a little, why, he'd always had a tendency for drama. He was only happy for his protégée, his friend, his sunshine...

No one should suspect.

You can charm her,
calm her when she's wild,
show a little comfort,
play with her inner child –
but you can never, never love her like me.

There was no denying that Chakotay and Seven were a lovely couple. They traded banter across the mess hall table like a subtler version of Tom and B'Elanna; they went on scenic hiking and nature reserve tours in the holodeck; he saved his replicator rations to give her bright, loose, floaty outfits rather than the catsuits the Doctor had designed. She even smiled for Chakotay sometimes. But the Doctor wondered sometimes if she smiled because she wanted to, or because she thought she should.

So I just close my eyes and steal her away when you sleep,
sneak her in my dreams every single day of the week.
You may have her in real world, but if you could only see
how we rock this room in the twilight zone!
And you can never – never – love her like me.

When it all became too hard to bear, he shut his eyes and transported to the holodeck. His crewmates knew, vaguely, that he'd created a home and family for himself there, but ever since the death of his little daughter in a random twist of the program, and since the Doctor sealed his lips on the entire topic, the subject had been tacitly dropped.

What nobody knew was that he had made adjustments to the program. His fair-haired wife had grown tall and slender, with glints of metal on her face and a sharp edge to her tongue. They lived together in a white house under whispering pines, with a son who had his father's eyes and his mother's stubbornness. Every time he activated the program – every time he came home – she was there, with a true smile in her eyes and a kiss waiting just for him.

You can warm her,
charm her with your style;
I know you convinced her
she's the love of your life.
And no, you'll never, never love her like me.

Chakotay had had his share of women; Seska, for one. He had certainly been devoted to the Captain ever since their stay on "New Earth". Yet he claimed that Seven was his 'soul mate', that he had never known what love was before meeting her. The Doctor refrained from commenting that at their first meeting, the Commander had tried to eject Seven from the airlock. Of course, back then she'd been a Borg with full body armor, her fine-boned face gray as a corpse. Who would accept such a creature on his ship?

Who had removed eighty percent of Seven's implants? Who had taught her to say please and thank you, make conversation, call a toast, play the piano? Who had debated with her endlessly about the value of art and beauty, the freedom of the individual? Who besides the Captain had accepted her from the first?

Certainly not Commander Chakotay.

You can bless her,
keep her conscience clean;
you can undress her,
go all the places I've been,
but you will never, never love her like me.

Rumours said that Chakotay had only begun going out with Seven to cure himself of his love for the Captain, or even to make her jealous. The Doctor privately found it strange that Seven was, as it were, taking the Captain's leavings. She deserved to be loved by a man who had never loved before; a blank canvas for her hands only to paint.

He loved so many things about her; her bluntness, her tunnel vision (relevant/irrelevant), the taut control of her walk. He loved her hair, as stubborn as the rest of her, staying neatly coiled for hours with no strand out of place. He loved the way she greeted people with the tiniest of nods, every movement graceful and minimal. He loved her voice, sweet and crisp as a golden apple. He loved the fiercely intelligent mind which could make even Borg nanoprobes save lives without assimilation, and her heart full of protective warmth for Naomi and the Borg children. He even loved her smile, although it belonged to Chakotay, because the Doctor had taught her everything she knew about facial expressions. Even if she gave her smile to another man, she would always owe it to him.

Every night shift on Voyager, the soundproof holodeck walls protect a secret which only one hologram knows. Here he watches hoverball games with his teenage son. Here he laughs at his wife's dry humor, entertains her with stories from Sickbay (And then when they beamed up, lo and behold, only one lifesign! Melded together, can you imagine?) serenades her with his favorite arias and listens to her draw her magic from the piano. Every night he holds her in his arms. Every morning he activates in Sickbay alone.