As usual, Paramount owns the show and the characters. I only hope I've done them justice, as this is really the first thing I've written for these characters, so I'm not quite sure how to write them. My style may be a bit off, but I do appreciate feedback and suggestions. Please be kind.
There had been few gifts in Kes' short but happy life that had meant as much to her as this one did. This gift reminded her of all her friends, how much they cared, and how lucky she was to live with such wonderful people in such a wonderful place as their remarkable starship.
Fingering the locket's delicate gold chain, Kes turned her mind to fond thoughts of Tom Paris, who had given her the necklace, and her friendship with the kindly but inscrutable man. She thought too of Neelix, whose image smiled up at her from its place nestled inside the locket. Her lover had replicated a device called a camera so she could take a picture of him to keep in the locket, close to her heart like she wanted. Her thoughts followed time back to two days previously, when Neelix had asked her to come to the holodeck to meet him, and she had walked in to find the room empty. She hadn't been sure what to make of it, until her friends' clever plan had been revealed.
She smiled happily at the memory, then saw out of the corner of her eye that she was no longer alone in the small lab next to sickbay.
"Hello, Doctor," she greeted the holographic crewman. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Just checking how you were going with that inventory," the Doctor said jovially. "Although from the look of things, I'd say you were occupied with another matter entirely just now."
"Sorry. I was just thinking about my birthday party. I've never had a surprise party before. It was exciting." She grinned at the Doctor, and he nodded his understanding. "Oh, and I have the report on the inventory right here."
The Doctor accepted the proffered PADD and while he began to peruse it, he commented casually, "Yes, Mr Paris can be somewhat useful at times. For projects that don't involve him floundering about in my sickbay, that is."
Kes chuckled at that, and turned her fond gaze back to the Doctor. "I'm glad you could be there. It wouldn't have been the same without all of my friends."
The Doctor looked touched by her words. A very human expression, Kes mused. Not at all like a simple holographic projection.
"I wouldn't have missed it," he explained briskly, but with a smile in his voice. "It's not everyday my best medical assistant turns two. And besides, I may never get another chance to go to a birthday party."
Kes stopped in her tracks, startled by this revelation. "Of course… you don't have a birthday."
"Not like you, no." The Doctor took a seat behind his desk and began tapping at the console busily.
"But why can't you just choose a birthday? The way you're choosing a name for yourself."
"Give myself a birthday? That would be a bit pretentious, wouldn't it? No," he told her distractedly, "I don't need a birthday. I wasn't born like you were, and I have better things to do than celebrate fictitious occasions set on a randomly selected date in the calendar."
Watching her friend work in silence on the desk console, it was pretty clear that the Doctor considered the matter closed and the conversation over.
But Kes didn't.
*** =/\= ***
As had become his habit while working on trivial matters, the Doctor had begun humming one of his new favourite arias while studying the results of the crew's annual physical. It had now been a year since the ship had become stranded in the Delta Quadrant, and despite their distance from Starfleet Command, the Doctor intended to uphold medical regulations and subject the entire crew to a full physical after twelve months, starting with the senior staff. The Doctor paused his humming long enough to sigh as he recalled how, after ordering 'everyone' to report to sickbay for their physicals, the captain had performed a very effective vanishing act until the Doctor had demanded the poor transporter operator beam the captain directly to sickbay from wherever she was hiding. The crewman obliged and Captain Janeway, ubiquitous coffee mug in hand, had chewed the Doctor out the entire time she was in his clutches. Needless to say, he was now not looking forward to his next meeting with his commanding officer.
Slumping wearily into his chair in a very human fashion, the Doctor filed the medical reports he had open and mentally counted how many more torture sessions he had still to go through.
Forty-three.
That was forty-three too many.
Brusquely reminding himself that "holograms don't get tired", the Doctor reached to pull up his schedule of appointments for the next day, when something on the desk caught his eye. Sitting innocently on the desk beside him was a small, rolled-up sheet of paper, tied carefully with a red satin ribbon. He was certain it had not been there that morning.
Picking it up slowly and sliding the ribbon off one end, he unrolled the paper to see a note written on it in fine calligraphy. A note addressed to him.
"Dear Doctor,", it read, "You are invited to attend an event to be held in Holodeck Two, at 1900 hours tomorrow evening. Civilian formal wear is recommended."
There was no signature, and no explanation.
The Doctor sat still for a moment or two, pondering the invitation. "Well," he eventually murmured to himself, "I guess there's only one way to find out." Placing the note carefully to the side of his desk, he turned back to his computer to finish his reports for the day. But later, he decided, before he deactivated himself he would start looking into modifying his program's physical appearance subroutines. Maybe, a tuxedo would do.
The next day did not pass quickly, and the Doctor found himself several times running a diagnostic on his chronometric subroutines to see if they were malfunctioning. They weren't, and he was forced to get through his day, performing his now boring duties as efficiently as possible, and discovering first-hand the aptness of the human expression "sitting on tenterhooks". He completed the physicals, filed the reports, reorganized his storage cabinet, and checked for the third time that his holographic attire for the evening was in order. Eventually, there was nothing to do but wait. Finally, 1900 hours arrived, and with an unusual combination of excitement and trepidation, the Doctor adjusted his appearance and asked the computer to transfer his program to Holodeck Two.
When he arrived at the holodeck, it was dark. After giving his optical sensors a second to adjust, he realized that the lights were dimmed and he was standing in a lavishly decorated corridor. The carpet was plush and dark red. The walls were a dark green with hollow shelf compartments indented in them, each shelf containing a brightly-burning candle. Long drapes framed each shelf, casting shadows across the walls that simply added to the mystique as the Doctor gazed abound his surroundings.
A slight cough from somewhere to his right got his attention. "If you'll come with me, sir?" an attendant in a black suit gestured to a doorway at the end of the hall, partially obscured in the shadows. Mystified, the Doctor followed his guide, who opened the door and ushered him through. The new room was small, with two comfortably-upholstered seats and a small shelf on the low wall before them, containing a bottle of wine and two glasses, another note tied in red ribbon, and… opera glasses.
He was in an opera house. Specifically, in a small private balcony.
Picking up the note, the Doctor adjusted his optical subroutines to the light again and began to read.
"Doctor, In honour of the first anniversary of your initial activation, and in celebration of how far you've come over the past year, I hope you will enjoy an evening of opera, with holographic recreations of some of your favourite performers, that I have prepared for you.
I know you said that you did not want a birthday, but surely everybody deserves to celebrate their accomplishments, don't they?"
The Doctor thought to himself that he had never shown a smile quite so big as the grin plastered to his face now. And he thought he knew who was behind this now, too.
"You were right when you said Tom Paris can be very useful." Right on cue, Kes' voice came from the doorway behind him. "He helped me program most of this, but it was my idea."
"And a wonderful idea it is," the Doctor told her softly. "Thank you, Kes. This… this means a lot to me."
Kes smiled and padded to the chair beside him, and for the first time the Doctor noticed that she had dressed for the occasion as well. The light, flowing dress fit her quite beautifully, and the particular shade of light blue highlighted her eyes, even in the dim lighting.
Kes had opened the bottle of wine and was filling one of the glasses. "Would you like to try the wine while you're enjoying the opera? Tom said this was a very good 'vintage'."
"I'm a hologram, remember? I can't drink wine."
"Not even holographic wine?"
Smiling to himself with admiration that this girl did indeed think of everything, the Doctor accepted the glass and relaxed into his seat. Picking up the opera glasses, he studied them idly.
A year ago, he would never have believed that he would become so cared-for by a crewmember that they would give him a birthday gift. Well, two crewmembers – he would have to remember to thank Mr Paris sometime as well. He'd had a lot of remarkable experiences so far in his tenure as the ship's Chief Medical Officer, but this night was something he would remember for a long time to come. This would definitely be one of his favourite memories from now on.
Hearing the first strains of organized melody begin to flow from the orchestra pit, the Doctor returned his attention to the present, only to notice his companion gazing at him curiously. He smiled warmly at her, then raised his glass of wine and offered a toast.
"To a night I'll never forget."