21. Someone To Watch Over Me

For Seven, the past few days had been a swirl of unsettling emotions, one after another. The embarrassment of being caught studying Paris and Torres. The excruciating awkwardness of her 'first date' with Lieutenant Chapman, during which she'd splattered the poor man with lobster and torn a ligament in his shoulder while dancing. And the Doctor in the middle of it all, her own reliable colleague and friend, causing sensations she had never experienced before.

His gentle hands running through her hair. His radiant smile as they sang together. Dancing to a three-hundred-year-old love song in a bar lit with golden lamps, and her heart was beating faster than it should, and she had lost track of her chronographic sequencer and given over all control, for once, to him.

She'd been so angry on finding out that he'd done it all on a bet. She had stormed out on Ambassador Tobin's reception party, and had come within inches of dismambering the man for making a drunken pass at her. Later, in Sickbay, while helping the Doctor use her nanoprobes to sober up Tobin, she'd forgiven her friend and made a discovery that changed her life.

And she had left the room a bit too rapidly, so he wouldn't look into her eyes and see the feelings that might be there.

Currently she sat alone in Holodeck Two, having left the Doctor behind in Holodeck One; presumably about to conduct a medical research simulation or maybe take a few pictures with his new holocamera. She was running Sandrine's – without characters, since she didn't want to look at dancing couples or deal with the irritating patroness just then.

"Computer, one synthale. And play 'Someone to watch over me', instrumental only."

She had given him a new tricorder. Lesson 18: Thanks for the Memories. It was foolish and she would never tell him, but she associated the Doctor's tricorders with every good thing about him: his medical skill, of course, but also his kindness and compassion. How many times had he scanned her with a smile, a joke, or a well-meant scolding about her health and safety?

She'd told him about half of the truth – she was giving up their lessons in dating, because there were no compatible mates for her on Voyager.

He was her only compatible mate, and he didn't care.

I feel as if we've grown closer … more than colleagues … we're friends.

Friends. Agreed.

She would be the first to admit she knew almost nothing about love. Obviously it was possible for one person to feel it – that elusive 'spark' – but not the other. She might even be mistaken in discovering it in herself.

Seven raised the glass to her lips. The last time she'd tried a syntheholic beverage, it had made her feel very strange – light as a balloon, holding the Doctor for support to keep herself from floating away.

"I thought synthehol didn't agree with you."

Seven put down the glass and whirled her barstool around. Captain Janeway stood there, smiling crookedly, still in her gold-braided dress uniform.

"Haven't seen this program in a while," she said, perching on the stool next to Seven. "Let alone without the characters. And I know you didn't order that because you like the taste."

Janeway took the glass and moved it out of Seven's reach, watching her with conerned blue eyes. "What's wrong, Seven?"

That kind question was all it took to unravel the knot in Seven's throat. A tear escaped her unmodified right eye and ran down her face.

"I believe that I have fallen in love, Captain," she said.

"But that's wonderful!" Janeway smiled and put a hand on Seven's arm. "Congratulations – unless – " The smile faltered. "Oh, Seven, doesn't that person feel the same?"

"He does not." Seven could not meet those pitying eyes. "How should I … proceed?"

Janeway sighed and propped her chin up on her hands. "I admit I'd hoped this wouldn't happen until you were older … more experienced. This is one of the most painful sides of individuality – loving someone and having your love denied, for whatever reason."

Janeway turned back to face Seven again and placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You can learn from this, Seven. One can learn from just about anything if one sees it in the right way. Remember what it's like, these emotions you're feeling, so that someday when you meet a man who's right for you – and you will – you'll recognize true love when you see it, and know not to let it go."

Seven nodded, not trusting her voice to hold steady if she said anything.

"And, Seven … it goes away. Really, it does. I can't tell you when, but eventually these feelings of love and heartbreak will grow less. Someday you'll be able to work with him and see his face every day without it hurting at all."

Seven wondered whose face Janeway had in mind, to bring that strange, wistful look into her eyes. She decided it was none of her business; she'd had enough of prying into her shipmates' romantic lives.

The door chimed.

"Computer, end program. Come in," said the Captain, jumping clear of the barstool just before it dematerialized. Seven did the same.

"Kathryn, where did you – oh, hello, Seven," said Commander Chakotay, the animation in his face turning to polite indifference in mid-sentence.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I seem to have lost track of time." The Captain smoothed her uniform jacket. "And forgot to change."

"You look very nice, Captain. Now come on, I've been slaving over the replicator for hours."

The command team left the holodeck arm in arm. The Captain nodded goodbye to Seven over her shoulder, blue eyes aglow.

Seven sighed, wiped away something from her eye, marched over to the computer terminal and called up one of her simulations for a new gravimetric array. She'd had just about enough of romance for the rest of her life.