The Doctor paced back and forth in his office. He bit his holographic fingernails, sat in his chair, paced the floor some more, and then sat back into the chair.

There was no way anyone could have predicted that his programming would have evolved to this.

Yes, the Doctor could feel affection for his patients; if he wanted to, that is. He could be nice and sweet, and could even sing, for cryin' out loud.

But there was no way he could have predicted that he would fall in love.

It's just as simple as that; holograms don't fall in love. At least, that was the theory. Then again, in theory, an EMH couldn't act as a full time doctor, let alone in the Delta Quadrant. The Doctor assumed that theory didn't apply to him.

There was still the problem about Seven of Nine. He couldn't continue giving her social lessons without letting her know how he felt, could he? It was hard enough to talk to her when he wasn't in love with her; it was even harder to do so when he was.

The Doctor heard the Sick Bay doors open, and plastered on a fake smile.

"Good morning!" The Doctor said, somewhat too cheerful for Tom's taste.

"Yeah. Ummm…Hi." He muttered, half smiling. Ever since Kes had left, Tom had taken to working in Sick Bay part time. The Doctor enjoyed his company; that is, when Tom enjoyed his, which was a rare event. Tom couldn't stand working alongside the Doctor. The Doctor was actually rather fond of Tom, but he never showed it.

"Lieutenant Paris, I have a question…I mean…I need advice…about…" The Doctor started, suddenly losing the confidence he had had before.

Tom rolled his hands in the air, signaling for the Doctor to continue.

"I have…certain feelings…for a certain…person…on Voyager." The Doctor muttered, slightly embarrassed.

Tom nodded his head in understanding, and rubbed his chin. "Ah, I see. And you are telling me this why?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Lieutenant Paris, I need advice about how to handle the situation."

"And you're asking me?" Tom asked shockingly.

"Ensign Kim has commented more than once about your ways with women."

Tom smiled, remembering the often 'sessions' he had had with Harry.

"Yeah, we all know Harry could use a lot of help when it comes to that. But, I mean, Doc. You're a pretty handsome hologram. I don't think you need me to help you."

The Doctor smiled and rubbed his hand through hair that wasn't there.

"I am a rather dashing young man, aren't I?"

"Right. Doc, the thing is, you apparently have these feelings bottled up for…" Tom looked at the EMH, hoping he would finish the sentence.

"…for Seven of Nine." The Doctor finished.

Tom stared at the EMH with disbelief for quite some time. An EMH, hoping to have a chance with a ex-Borg? Life on Voyager was all too awkward at times.

"Alright, Doc. Seven of Nine it is. But this makes your situation a little more…complicated. Seven isn't exactly the most available person here."

The Doctor felt his face droop. "You mean, Seven is already…occupied?"

Tom laughed lightly. "No, Doc. I mean, she is a rather hard person to persuade to…go out with you."

"Ah."

"What if, instead of going out with the real Seven of Nine, you make a hologram of her in the holodeck?" Tom suggested.

"I already did." The Doctor answered blankly, not realizing how awkward his answer might sound to Tom. Tom glared at the Doctor, not even wanting to think of the things that could have gone on in the holodeck.

"I see. Well, you could always write her letters, and never send them." Tom said lightly.

Now it was the Doctor's turn to rub his chin. Seven had once written him a fan letter, obviously not wanting to express her feelings toward him in spoken words.

"That might work. Thank you, Lieutenant. You may continue with your duties now."

Paris nodded his head, and continued to check the medical tricorders and hyposprays that were in stock. The Doctor returned to his office, ready to attempt to write Seven letters.

***

To My Dearest Seven of Nine,

Seven, I've wanted to tell you now for ages, but I never could muster up the courage from my programming.

I love you.

I need you.

Lieutenant Paris was right; it is easier to write things rather than say them. This might be a very interesting topic for me to start researching later on. Seven, if you only knew. If you could only imagine how difficult it is to love someone who doesn't love you back. If you only knew how many males on this ship looked at you when your back was turned, how many people would kill to have a chance with you.

I have enjoyed our social lessons together, and can barely wait until we have another one.

Your Friend Whose Love Isn't Holographic,

The Doctor

The letter was finished. The Doctor hadn't rushed in writing it; in fact, he had taken time, as if he was thinking about something else all the while writing it. Now that it was finished, the Doctor did feel a little better- but his love for Seven of Nine still haunted him.

***

To The Lovely Seven of Nine,

Once again, I find myself thinking of you when I should be working on my research. Do you have any idea what it is like to express your love in a letter? It would be most satisfying…if I knew that you would read them. However, I highly doubt that you ever will.

Today we sang together, and oh, it was so glorious to watch you and listen to you sing. I find myself wondering if you recognized the music we were singing. It was a popular love song on Earth centuries ago, called 'All I Ask Of You'. It's from a favorite musical of mine.

Seven, all I want is for you to love me, for you to say that you do so. Is it that much to ask?

Love Me, That's All I Ask,

The Doctor

The second letter was finished. It had been nearly a week since Lieutenant Paris has made the suggestion of writing letters. The Doctor found it enjoyable, proclaiming his love for Seven. However, the EMH couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to actually say those things to a real Seven of Nine, and not to a hologram.

***

Seven of Nine,

I saw you today. You confessed to me your love for Commander Chakotay. I can't say that the Commander isn't an attractive fellow, and that he isn't a suitable suitor for you-because he is all of those things and more. I still love you, Seven. It's almost impossible to stop thinking about you during those lonely nights in Sick Bay.

I hope you are happy, Seven. I see the way you smile when he' around; and I'm actually happy that you are happy. I just wish you could be happy with me, just me, only me. I've decided that Lieutenant Paris' suggestion for writing letters to you is a bad idea; it only brings pain to the heart and tears to the eyes. Thus, this will be my last letter to you.

I love you. I always have, and I will to the end of time.

I have now written you three letters, Seven. Three letters is hardly enough room to tell you how much I care for you, but it will have to do. There's no point in hurting myself any further.

I Won't Let Go Of You,

The Doctor

There. He had written a final letter to Seven, explaining how he felt about her, and about her love for Chakotay. The Doctor knew he had pained himself in writing three letters that were never to be read. He didn't regret the decision to follow Lieutenant Paris' advice, but he wasn't going to continue. He took the three PADDS that he had used to write the letters on, and put them in a box. He then put box underneath his desk, and gave a long sigh before making his way to the Cargo Bay, where he and Seven would have a singing lesson.