Author's note: This is just a little fun piece while I'm still working on edits/revisions for my other stuff. Does not exactly cohere with canon (they're still in the Delta Quadrant, it's very late in Seven's growth, she and B'Elanna are no longer so hostile toward eachother, and C/7 never happened).

Also, since I don't include author's notes from myself in Processes of Revision, let me just give a quick and very big Thank You to everyone who has read and interacted with that story. Reading your messages and reviews are always very encouraging, and I'm very glad you like these stories. Enjoy!

B'Elanna tapped at the central console in Sickbay a few more times before looking up. "Well. That's that. I've started running the algorithm that'll realign his subroutines, but it's going to take a few hours. At least now his matrix is stabilized- we shouldn't get any more limbs disappearing or color-changing uniforms. Funny when the tables turn, isn't it?"

Seven was not smiling. "It is not."

B'Elanna paused. Her voice was surprisingly gentle. "Look. I know this is weird. But he's going to be fine. You helped me with this algorithm yourself."

They both looked at the Doctor. He was lying in one of the biobeds, arm pointing straight up at the ceiling and tracing some unknown shape in the air with his finger.

"I have to admit," B'Elanna continued, "It's strange to see him like this… He's acting like he's on some pretty strong meds meant for an organic." She glanced at Seven and offered a small smile. "Maybe your presence would be good for him- he's going to be pretty loopy for a while. Just remember, whatever he says or does in the next few hours, it's just the algorithm doing it's job." She paused. "Although he may have a few more lucid moments, I can't say."

"I am well aware of the effects of the algorithm we both designed, Lieutenant."

B'Elanna gave her a look. "I know. But sometimes we need reminders when these things happen to people we care about. You've been so tense it's like you're expecting an attack from a fleet of Borg cubes at any moment." She snapped her engineering kit shut, then she shot Seven a teasing smirk. "It's kinda cute." She left quickly.

Seven narrowed her eyes and watched the sickbay doors close behind Lieutenant Torres. Cute. Ever since Seven and the Doctor had entered a romantic relationship, Torres had taken to poking fun at them every chance she got. Perhaps it was the influence of her husband. Or, more likely, good-natured revenge for Seven's previous error of watching Torres' and Paris' own romantic relationship, all while taking detailed notations. If she weren't so worried about the Doctor she would cringe at the memory.

Seven looked again at the Doctor. Now he was tracing patterns with both hands pointed up at the ceiling. She approached the biobed. "Doctor."

He continued to stare straight up. But a smile immediately lit up his face at the sound of her voice. "SEVEN!" He chuckled. "Ah, my dear sweet Seven. Love of my life. My one and only. Precious and beautiful one. Beloved." He continued tracing patterns.

Seven blushed and glanced away. As she always did when he felt the need to express superfluous verbal affections. Not that she minded exactly. "Doctor, how are you feeling?"

"I. Feel. Like…" he paused. One arm fell to his side on the biobed while the other continued to trace. "…like I'm floating on a stream of ejected warp plasma and my head is full of cotton candy, and…. Fizzy stars. Fizzy champagne stars."

Seven blinked and searched her memory. The Doctor had had champagne before- to Seven's detriment at the time- but he had not ordered cotton candy from the replicator when they had been captured by Captain Ranik- how could he possibly know what cotton candy was like?

His other arm crashed down to the biobed and he let out a short cry as if pained.

"Doctor?"

"I…" His voice sounded unsteady, and holographic tears appeared in his eyes. "I've remembered something."

Seven swallowed, trying not to panic. "What?"

"There's… There's someone I love. And she doesn't love me back."

Seven had to suppress a slight smile. Loopy indeed. Still, the humor of the situation was tempered by the obvious emotional distress the Doctor was feeling in the midst of not remembering their very real romantic involvement.

Seven took his hand in her own. "You are incorrect, Doctor. She does love you. Very much."

That only increased the tears. "She DOES?" The Doctor asked with painfully obvious, overwhelming hope.

"Yes." Seven could no longer suppress her smile. Even as the Doctor's behavior tugged at her.

"How can you be sure?"

She interlaced her fingers with his and placed her other hand on his shoulder. "Because I am her."

The Doctor looked at her sharply, tears still in his eyes. A very slow, very genuine smile lit up his face. "I knew it. That's why you're so beautiful. And why your voice is so lovely." He squeezed her fingers. "You're my Seven."

"I'm your Seven."

"You're my Seven."

"…Yes. I'm your Seven."

"You're my Seven."

Seven glanced at the console a few feet away and started to pull away. "It sounds like you might be caught in a feedback loop. I should-"

"Nooooooo…" The Doctor's grip tightened on her fingers. "I'm not caught in a feedback loop. I'm perfectly coher-" he paused, frowning. "Coher… Cogen… Cosine. I'm perfectly cosine."

Seven couldn't help it. She came very close to laughing, but instead said, "You are a perfect trigonometric function?" Perhaps it would be better simply to embrace the absurdity of the moment.

"Of COURSE I am! I am the embodiment of modern medicine, the crowning achievement of modern holography genius Dr. Lewis Zimmerman! Being a perfect trigonometric function has to be included in all that somewhere."

As absurd as that claim was, it was housed in a surprisingly well-structured sentence. Considering. "Are you feeling more lucid, Doctor?"

He looked at her sharply. "Lucid? I already told you I'm cos… cosay… capsaicin."

Seven raised an eyebrow and carefully extracted her fingers from his to tuck her hands behind her back. "My apologies. You are clearly very… capsaicin."

The Doctor huffed and crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling again. "Thank you for finally admitting it."

He fell silent.

Seven watched him for a few more minutes before glancing at the console again. Torres had assured her that the algorithm was doing its job, and her own logic insisted on that fact. So why did she feel the need to return to the console to verify?

She took a step toward the console.

"Kes, have you seen Seven?"

Seven blinked. Undoubtedly, this was still the Doctor acting "loopy", but she found that sentence unnerving on a couple of levels that she couldn't quite articulate. "Doctor, I am right here." She touched his shoulder again.

He looked at her. "Ah, of course. We already established that. I'm sorry, Seven. This procedure is doing quite a number on my cognitive subroutines."

She smiled. "You certainly sound more lucid now. And less… capsaicin."

"Capsaicin?"

"You insisted you were capsaicin. And cosine."

"But I am capsaicin! And cosine!"

Seven glanced away, letting out a very small sigh. "I am still here, Doctor, but I need to step a few feet away."

"Okaaaaayy…" He raised both hands straight up to trace patterns again.

Seven tapped at the console at the center of Sickbay. Sure enough, all indications were that the algorithm was working exactly as intended.

Perhaps Lieutenant Torres had a point in offering reassurance.

For a long moment, Seven simply watched the Doctor, still tracing patterns in the air. Was this how he had felt all those times when Borg technology caused her own medical emergencies? She had read some of his and the Captain's logs about the effects of the Borg vinculum on her psyche. The Captain herself had suggested she do so, to gain a better understanding of what had happened for Seven's own recovery and peace of mind. She had decided not to read in detail- memory of the experience had still felt raw and chaotic at the time- but she had skimmed enough to know that there must have been moments when the humor and tragedy of the situation existed in simultaneous tension.

Now the Doctor was no longer tracing patterns in the air- his arms hung off the sides of the biobed and he shifted one leg so his knee pointed up at the ceiling. "Neelix was wrong," he muttered. "There's nothing wrong with my Sickbay's ceiling, it's actually quite soothing."

Seven felt another small smile form on her lips. No, this situation could not be compared to her experience with the Borg vinculum. For one thing, the Doctor's behavior was simply an indication that his own "medicine" was already at work. When Seven had been incoherent, her shipmates still had not even known how to help her.

And she had to admit, she agreed with the Doctor's statement. The ceiling of Sickbay was rather soothing. Perhaps she felt that way because she had spent so much time on a biobed herself. Seeing the ceiling of Sickbay had become a token of reassurance that whatever was ailing her would soon be fixed.

All because of him.

She glanced once more at the console, planted the assurance that the algorithm was doing its job firmly in her mind, and returned to the Doctor's side.

His face lit up when he saw her. "Seven! You're here! I'm glad you could make it!"

"The Captain has given me leave of my duties until you recover, Doctor." At the time, Seven had protested. Now, she was thankful for Janeway's kind-hearted insistence.

"Oh Captain, my Captain! The greatest Captain a hologram could ask for!" He snatched Seven's arm, propped himself on one elbow, and looked at her intently, holographic tears returning. "She knows that, doesn't she? She is, without a doubt, the greatest Captain in all of Starfleet! And I should know- I know all about Picard, and-and…" he paused, frowning. Evidently, he could think of no other names. He shook his head. "And it doesn't matter. She's better than Picard and all the rest of them."

"I agree." And she meant it.

The Doctor flopped back onto the pillow, releasing her arm. "And my dear, sweet, Seven of Nine!" He rubbed at his eyes, starting to shake slightly with sobs. "What did I do to deserve such a-a perfect woman? Always thinking she's coming up short and not realizing she's already achieved the perfection she longs for. I don't deserve her."

Seven blinked, her own eyes suddenly damp. She's already achieved the perfection she longs for… Was that really how strongly he felt?

"I wish I could tell her," the Doctor continued. "Wish I could tell her how much she means to me- I'd go to the ends of the galaxy and beyond for her. I'd fight the Borg Queen, risk decompilation, even… even… I'd even give up opera if she asked me to!"

She blinked and quickly wiped her eyes with her hand. This was unacceptable. She was supposed to be coherent enough to be there for the Doctor and now he was saying things that were causing her own very strong emotional reaction. "I would never ask you to give up opera," she said aloud, surprised at her own vehemence. "It is one of the things which make you unique." It is one of the reasons I love you.

"That's something my Seven would say. She's kind and… and thoughtful. And of course she's the most efficient person I've ever met, and-and… and just… perfect in every way." He lowered his hands from his face, eyes red. "Oh, I wish I could tell her."

"You have told her, Doctor. I'm right here. I'm your Seven."

The Doctor looked at her slowly. "S-Seven?"

"Yes."

"But how do I know you're my Seven? And not just another daydream gone wrong?"

"I cannot prove that to you until your program has finished its realign-"

"I know!" The Doctor sat up, took her face in both his hands, and kissed her squarely on the mouth so quickly Seven almost ducked out of reflex. Instead, she blinked before closing her eyes and resting one hand on the back of the Doctor's neck, the other on his shoulder, and relaxed into the kiss. His thumb traced the metal implant on her cheek and she drew him closer.

A moment or three passed before she pulled slightly away, trying not to think of the potential ethics of kissing someone who, on the one hand she was already very much romantically involved with, and on the other hand was clearly not in his right mind. She swallowed and looked at the Doctor, who was still holding her, smiling, with his eyes closed. "Doctor, I-"

"I don't think I'd have dared get away with that even in a daydream. You must be my real Seven."He fell backwards onto the biobed, grinning.

Seven raised an eyebrow and had to suppress another small smile, unsure that the Doctor's logic actually followed. This situation is certainly a unique one. Still, she couldn't entirely shake the disturbance she felt. "Are you lucid, Doctor?"

He blinked and looked up at her. He sat up again, more slowly this time. "Actually. Yes. I think so." He put his hands out in front of him and opened and closed them a couple times. "At least at the moment. That algorithm you and B'Elanna came up with is a doozy. Did I just do something stupid?"

She couldn't suppress it. Seven let out a single, very soft giggle.

The Doctor looked up at her quickly and his grin widened. "I do love it when you grace me with your laugh." His smile faltered just slightly. "Still. I hope I didn't do anything… ungentlemanly."

"You kissed me."

The Doctor frowned. "Oh. Seven, I'm sor-"

"It was enjoyable."

He perked up. "Oh!" The grin returned. "Well, since I'm lucid at the moment and I don't remember it, would you care to remind me?"

She leaned forward to kiss him again, one hand returning to the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder. His thumb again brushed against the implant on her cheek.

Then the doors opened.

"I think I left my isolinear-" The sentence was cut short with a very pointed, very Klingon, expletive. "You two are sickening!"