23. Living Witness

It was the 32nd century A. D., and the Doctor – rather, a backup copy of the Doctor – had not been active for seven hundred years. He found himself in a museum now, trying to hammer it into the curator's head that Voyager had not been responsible for genocide. At least the man was listening now, rather than deactivating him in the middle of a sentence. He was also asking a great deal of questions

"And what about those Borg drones?" he asked eagerly. "They've terrified me ever since I first saw the simulation in school. Soulless machine-people marching to kill, led by a ruthless female as hard-hearted as her captain … "

"That's absurd!" said the Doctor, with an irritable toss of his head, for what felt like the millionth time. "Seven of Nine was the only Borg on board and she was not soulless."

"But she was a Borg."

"Seventeen percent Borg, if you please. I removed the rest of her implants myself."

"You did?" The curator's air of surprise was not flattering. The Doctor glared.

"How did it happen?"

"Our Captain tried to make a deal with the Borg, which needless to say, did not go well. Seven tried to assimilate the ship, we severed her link to the Collective in order to stop her, and Captain Janeway – note this, Mr. Quarren – decided to help her regain her individuality."

"Incredible!" Quarren's eyes glowed. "Captain Janeway, perpretrating an act of compassion. Wouldn't it have been easier just to shoot the drone?"

"Brutality, contrary to that gruesome simulation of yours, is not the Starfleet way."

"So how did this … Seven? … adapt to Voyager?"

"Oh, it was certainly a bumpy road." The Doctor felt in his element; he loved to lecture. "She's not the most – congenial company, is Seven. Tends to rub people the wrong way, not unlike myself, I'm told. She was very … direct. Almost painfully so. The sort of person who'd tell you to your face that your favorite hobby was irrelevant."

Quarren winced. "Sounds unpleasant."

The Doctor let out a hiss of irritation. He had never tried to describe Seven to an outsider before, and was finding it nearly impossible.

"I never said she was unpleasant! That's the last word I'd use. Difficult, yes. Complex, certainly. Irritating, sometimes. But the hours I've spent with her – talking to her, teaching her how to behave as a human, debating with her about everything from life and death to Velocity … have been some of the most rewarding moments of my existence. She challenges me … makes me see the universe through new eyes … I care about her. A lot."

Quarren, meanwhile, had been looking increasingly anxious during the Doctor's speech. Now he interrupted.

"Doctor … er … excuse me, but you've been referring to this woman in the present tense. Is it possible you're malfunctioning?"

Crash!

That was reality catching up with the Doctor. He reeled, holding on to the stair rail of the white exhibition hall where torpedos, data padds, and his own tricorder lay on display as ancient artifacts. Seven hundred years old.

Seven hundred years.

At Quarren's first mention of the fact, the Doctor had thrown a primadonna fit and stormed from the room. next, he had plunged into the tast of redeeming Voyager from the villain's role in which history had cast it. He had never stopped to think about what that meant in regards to his crew.

But I can still see them, he thought helplessly, his emotional subroutines trembling like torn harp strings. The Captain's laughing eyes and her hand on my shoulder, Tuvok's precise Vulcan voice, Neelix puttering around the mess hall, Tom strolling into Sickbay with a smirk on his face, B'Elanna lecturing me about the maintenance of my program, Harry dreaming of his mother's apple pie …

Seven. Seven standing at attention with her hands behind her back, Seven looking down her beautiful nose, Seven calling something irrelevant. Seven giving nanoprobes to save a man's life. Seven throwing herself against a forcefield, knocked about by Hirogen, assaulted by Kovin, and stronger every time. Seven in a silver gown, with jewelled combs in her hair, singing fit to break my heart.

And he would never see them again.

Photonic tears stung his eyes as he turned away. "No, Mr. Quarren, I am not malfunctioning. If you have no further questions, you may leave now."