14. The Void
"Doctor to Seven of Nine."
"Proceed."
"Ahem … Seven, do you have time available after your shift?"
The Doctor straightened his jacket automatically, even knowing she couldn't see him, and listened closely. The emptiness of the Sickbay (where Fantome and his people had been making music only hours ago) made it easier to discern the sounds on the other end of the comm link: sizzling, chopping, a faint hum of laughter and conversation. She must be in the mess hall.
"That depends on the use you intend to make of my time, Doctor. Are you calling to schedule my next physical?"
"No … actually, I was wondering if you'd like to watch my Phantom of the Opera holonovel. Just watch. No acting involved, unless of course you want to."
The Phantom of the Opera – book, films, and especially the Andrew Lloyed Webber musical – was his latest fascination, which explained Fantome's name: the Doctor had drawn an immediate parallel between the shy alien fugitive who shared his love for music and the lonely, deformed composer from the story. Now that Fantome and the rest of his species had been left behind in the Void, the Doctor missed them, and felt the need for friendly companionship.
"Stop!" Seven's sharp command made him flinch, momentarily insulted.
"What do you – " he spluttered.
"Not you, Doctor. Mr. Neelix, one Nygean pepper will more than suffice!"
Seven's commbadge picked up Neelix's answer, faintly at first, then closer as if the Talaxian were moving close to her: "Seven, really, do you want to put the diners to sleep? Doctor, if that's you, by all that's holy come and rescue me! She's a menace in the kitchen, I had no idea!"
Neelix's laughing protest was almost drowned out by the hiss of a pot boiling over
"As you can hear, I am attempting to assist Mr. Neelix with the evening meal for the crew. Therefore, I will be unavailable for further social interaction tonight."
The Doctor suppressed a sigh as he picked up the padd where his holonovel was stored. It was clear, to him at least, that Seven was enjoying herself.
"Sorry, Mr. Neelix," he said with pronounced carelessness. "But your rescue will have to wait. Seven, I'm proud of you for taking up such a healthy, social pastime as the culinary arts. Keep it up. Doctor out."
He broke the link abruptly, without waiting for her answer, so he wouldn't inadvertently spill out what he really thought. Her cooking hobby was good for her; it brought her into non-professional contact with her shipmates; it allowed her to live on a more balanced and healthy diet than those endless nutritional supplements; it even gave her the experiences of pure sensual pleasure which, as the Doctor firmly believed, made life worth living.
However, food was also one of the few areas of life he could not share with her.
He always felt left out during meals with organics, even though he talked and laughed as much as anyone. And he'd decompile himself before asking her to upload his program into her body again; the consequences of the last time were all too fresh in his mind. Therefore, he'd started avoiding her whenever she felt like cooking, first in a holographic kitchen, later in the real one. And since it seemed to fascinate her as much as the Phantom's story fascinated him, he couldn't even remember the last 'social interaction' he'd had with her.
He found himself humming Learn To Be Lonely as he started on a stack of medical reports, grimaced, and shook his head.
"Now that's ridiculous. Doctor to Icheb," slapping his badge again with a fierce determination not to give in to self-pity, "What are you doing tonight, Cadet?"
"Assisting Lieutenant Torres with a warp core analysis," came the young man's weary voice. "After all the damage we sustained in the Void, she wants to make certain that there are no lasting flaws in the system."
"Very sensible of her, I'm sure," the Doctor muttered. "You sound exhausted. When was the last time you ate?"
"Approximately twelve hundred hours."
"Then I strongly advise you to have some dinner before you continue crawling through the jefferies tubes, or whatever you've been doing. That guardian of yours is cooking up a storm tonight."
"Again?" Icheb's dubious tone made the Doctor smile. He guessed that, in his absence, Seven had used her foster-son as a taste tester for several failed early efforts.
"Don't worry. The senior staff gave her glowing reviews."
"A peculiar concept," Icheb commented. "Lieutenant, do I have your permission to leave? Thank you. Good night, Doctor … Icheb out."
The Doctor plumped himself down at his office desk and picked up the first padd on the stack of reports.
"Computer, play musical selection Sigma One, track twenty-seven: Learn To Be Lonely."