Don't Cry For Me
By Laura Schiller
Based on Star Trek: Voyager
Copyright: Paramount
The Buenos Aires holoprogram to which Captain Janeway had invited the Doctor turned out to be a lush and sunlit place, exactly right for someone who was spending too much time on a starship. Palm trees lined the cobblestoned street, church bells rang, a cool breeze flapped the umbrellas giving shade to the outdoor tables, and the smells of flowers and coffee perfumed the air.
"Why, Kathryn, this is lovely!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Did you program it yourself? Of course I have no idea how accurate it is, but - "
He broke off, as his commanding officer was frowning.
"You, er - you did say to leave rank at the door … "
"Oh no, no, that's okay." She shook her head and laughed, meaning to put him at ease, but there was something slightly forced about her laughter. "It's just … I'm not really used to it anymore. No one's called me anything but Captain since … " She trailed off, either because she couldn't remember, or because she did not want to.
"Commander Chakotay does," said the Doctor. "At least he did, while I was … "
He could have bitten his holographic tongue immediately afterwards. So much for a relaxing afternoon on the holodeck. Evidently, their recent encounter with the Hierarchy was not that easy to forget.
" … while you were impersonating me?" Kathryn looked up from her coffee cup with a stony glare that was only half comical. "What did he say? Let me guess, it was during an argument."
She certainly knew her First Officer, almost as well as he knew her. The Doctor suppressed a smile.
"It was, actually. He became suspicious of me as soon as I told him the plan to eject the warp core. He knows you better than to believe you'd ever do that to your crew. His exact words were - " He imitated Chakotay's deep, quiet voice. "This isn't like you, Kathryn."
She flinched, making the cup and saucer rattle in her hands. "Please don't do that, it's uncanny."
"My apologies."
He took a sip of his own coffee, which was holographic: it looked, smelled, tasted and felt like the same rich, bitter liquid she was drinking, but it disintegrated when swallowed, so it had no nutritional value. Almost real, but not quite, like everything on the holodeck. Including him.
Kathryn's sigh made him look up. Aside from being startled, hearing Chakotay's voice seemed to have affected her more deeply than the Doctor had expected.
"I didn't know Chakotay thought so highly of me," she said, her smoky alto voice so low as to be almost inaudible. "Still, after all these years ... after all the choices we've made that we can never take back."
The Doctor wondered if she was thinking of Ensign Jetal's death and its aftermath, when she had hacked into the Doctor's memory, or other things only she knew about. Whatever it was, it had done nothing to dim the flame of Chakotay's loyalty. The way he spoke to what he thought was his captain, the way he looked, had made it obvious.
"Of course he does," said the Doctor.
Kathryn smiled into her cup.
At that moment, the sound of music distracted them both from their reverie. A band of street musicians in sombreros and embroidered vests was setting up their instruments on the sidewalk outside the café: a drummer, a violinist, a keyboard player and a singer with a microphone.
They launched into a piece so lively, the Doctor's uniform boots began to tap under the table. He stood up from the table, bowed deeply, and held out his hand to Kathryn, twitching his fingers as if she were a cat.
"Would you do me the honor?"
"No way, mister." She rolled her eyes, even as she had to grin at his theatrical attitude. "What did I say about music on this trip?"
"'No opera', you said. I don't recall anything about the Argentine Tango. Come on, it could be fun!"
"Oh well, I need the exercise anyway."
It was fun, but also one of the most awkward moments he could remember in his seven-year lifetime, including first contact with the Tak-Tak and running into Tom Paris while impersonating his pregnant wife.
"Relax, Kathryn. You keep trying to lead."
"Do I? Force of habit, I guess."
" … and stepping on my toes."
"I thought you didn't have pain receptors?"
"Slow, slow, quick-quick-slow. Don't you have any sense of rhythm?"
"This would be a lot easier if you weren't so short."
He dipped her a full ninety degrees, mostly to shut her up. But the startled squeak she let out, followed by her ear-to-ear grin when he pulled her back up, was so contagious that they both ended up laughing.
"What a hopeless pair we are," she said, shaking her tousled hair back from her eyes.
"I wouldn't say that. We make an excellent team … but perhaps not on the dancefloor."
"You're right."
They turned to acknowledge the amused and friendly applause of the band, as well as the café patrons. The lead singer, a tall blonde woman who stood out startlingly among her dark-haired bandmates, pulled out the red rose in her hair and offered it to the Doctor, smiling.
"Gracias," he said to her, thinking of another blonde, and a whole bouquet of red roses which had never left the holodeck. His own smile faded a little.
Kathryn looped her arm through his and led him away, strolling down the street to where the holodeck exit waited. She looked over her shoulder at the musicians, then at him.
"Doctor … why do I have the feeling both of us were imagining a different dance partner just now?"
"Probably because it's true." No sense denying it. He had proclaimed his love for Seven of Nine in front of the entire senior crew, after all.
"Have you talked to her? To Seven, I mean?"
"She's not interested in anything but friendship. That much is clear."
She had looked at him as if he'd gone insane – and, to be fair, it hadn't exactly been his most lucid moment. But after seeing her almost die of her feelings for Commander Chakotay, he really should have known better than to say anything.
"Human emotions are so … messy," he said, discarding several stronger words that only have made Kathryn worry. "It almost makes me wish I could revert to my baseline programming."
"I may be organic, but I know exactly what you mean."
They had arrived at the exit, an angular, metallic door that looked sharply out of place among the white stucco and faded cobbles of holographic Buenos Aires. They lingered on the step, and the Doctor wondered if, like him, his colleague was feeling reluctant to get back to her daily life.
"You're a good man, Doctor," said Kathryn. "A good friend."
"I am, aren't I? About time someone found that out," he said, an attempt at his usual bravado, which fell flat at the sight of the compassion in her eyes.
"Let's do this again sometime," she said. "But I'm adding a new rule: no dancing."
"Spoilsport."
She bumped his shoulder affectionately on the way out the door.