25. The Haunting of Deck Twelve
"Please state the nature of the – ugh, good heavens ... "
When the Doctor came back online, it was too dark to see the hand in front of his face. The orange emergency lighting strips glowered from their usual corner, almost blinding him. He began to feel around for something – a biobed, a table, a computer console … a flashlight flared up right in front of him, illuminating the blue-and-golden figure of Seven of Nine. He jumped.
"Computer," she said, "Activate sickbay lights."
The lights flashed on, and the Doctor made a mental note to ask B'Elanna for some adjustments to his optical subroutines. When he opened his eyes, Sickbay was itself again – gray and white, sterile and familiar – and Seven, in her blue suit, as lovely as ever.
"So how'd it go?" he asked, referring to a certain risky procedure which had been the reason for their shipwide power shutdown in the first place.
"The creature is off the ship and safely installed in its nebula."
"Thank the saints, as my parishioners would say. And the crew?"
"All unharmed. Mr. Neelix entertained the children in Cargo Bay Two so they would not be frightened. I would have been with them, but my presence was required in Astrometrics."
"Well, that was nice of him. I do hope he won't replace me as primary storyteller, though," he half-joked.
"Unlikely. Icheb remarked that Mr. Neelix's tale was scientifically inaccurate."
"Trust Icheb for that."
The Doctor, finding his tricorder in convenient reach on a nearby table, picked it up, ready to scan her if necessary. "And how are you, Seven?"
"Functioning within normal – " He gave her a look. "Fine," she amended. "Thank you."
"I know you … don't particularly care for dark places."
As a child, before being assimilated, Seven had been afraid of the dark.
Seven met his eyes calmly. "This is Voyager, Doctor. I carried a flashlight and was accompanied by the Captain. Besides, I have become accustomed to regenerating in a dark cargo bay each night. Since the children's arrival, that environment has become my home. Darkness itself is not a problem for me, Doctor, as long as I know what lies inside it."
"I see." He really did. He put down the tricorder, nodded to her, and began working on an experiment which the shutdown had interrupted. Several sentimental thoughts involving Seven, darkness and light inevitably floated through his cognitive processors; he was a doctor, not a poet, but sometimes he simply couldn't resist.
She was, after all, the light of his world.