A/N A ficlet courtesy of a challenge by the lovely ladies over on VAMB. I don't own Star Trek Voyager, which you can easily tell because I wouldn't have ended it like they did. As it happens, Paramount is in charge. Ha.
"Can I offer you anything else? Another cup of coffee perhaps?"
Kathryn smiled warmly at the holographic waiter stood before her; he was a quintessential Italian, with perfect white teeth, a beautiful accent and enough charm to coax a snake from a basket.
"No, thank you. My...friend and I are going to explore the city."
"But I'm sure we'll be back before we leave," Chakotay nodded, "That was a delicious meal."
"Of course," the waiter flourished dramatically, "You are in Rome! And your holiday has only just begun. You have much to look forwards to."
"I can only imagine," Kathryn smiled sneakily at Chakotay, who returned an equally devious grin. This programme had been a little gem, discovered deep in the archives and, with a few homely touches, converted into a perfect 'shore leave' for two people who wanted so desperately to be alone. The waiter and the restaurant had come with the programme and he was apparently created to act as a sort of guide and starting point for exploring the city.
Chakotay took Kathryn's hand as she thanked the waiter one last time, and they began to wander up one of the small side streets that the Italian had pointed out as leading to something particularly interesting. It appeared to be almost as an afterthought that the captain called back over her shoulder, with a voice that sounded as though she wasn't sharing the punch line to a joke, "Can you recommend a good hotel?"
"Try the Hotel Trevi."
As they disappeared round the corner, the waiter pushed aside his apron and tapped the concealed commbadge.
"Doctor to Lieutenant Paris."
"What's the news, Doc? Did they catch on?"
"Not at all. My performance was flawless," he answered haughtily, his own voice restored by a Chief Engineer stood outside the holodeck with a hypospanner in the control panel and a nonchalant look on her face when anyone walked past, "But it's what we suspected, Mister Paris. It's what we suspected all along!"