"Take my jacket, it's cold outside." (Doctor & Seven)

/

It was rare for the Voyager crew to enjoy a peaceful First Contact with one of the civilizations they encountered, and even rarer for them to be invited to the surface of an inhabited planet. The Doctor was making the most of this opportunity; for a wonder, he'd even persuaded Seven to join him.

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

They were in an art exhibition in one of the capital city's museums, a light and airy space whose white walls and wide skylights made the glass sculptures on display shine all the brighter, even on an overcast day like this one. They stopped in front of a sphere made up of tangled strands in shades of red and purple, twisting out from the center in wild spirals. He could only imagine the hours of meticulous work that must have gone into it, and yet it almost seemed to pulse as he turned his head, like something alive.

"I fail to see the purpose of such an object … " Seven began. He shot her a wry smile; he'd known she would say that. " … but the craftsmanship is impressive. I suppose the Captain would say it is meant to inspire the imagination."

"And does it?" asked the Doctor. "What do you see?"

"A star going supernova." Her response was certain, as if she'd already been using her imagination even before he'd asked.

"I was thinking of the arteries of a human heart."

"Curious." Seven tilted her head, as if trying to see what he saw. "It is the same piece, but we see it so differently."

Perhaps, thought the Doctor, a heart could be as vast and luminous as a star, even - or especially - when it was at risk of being broken. He knew better than to say that in front of her, however.

"It's nearly nineteen-thirty, local time," he said instead. "Aren't we due back on Voyager at twenty?"

"We have sufficient time … " Seven walked past him to stand before another sculpture, this one shaped like something between a fluted green bowl and a seashell. "But you are correct. We should include a margin of error."

"Shall we?" He walked ahead of her and opened the door leading out into the street.

Seven had, of course, scanned the local weather conditions before beaming down, but either the conditions had changed since then, or as a shipboard child she was simply not used to judging temperatures and dressing accordingly.

Either way, the cold wind that swept through the open door caught her visibly by surprise. She recoiled, folded her arms, unfolded them again and strode out into the street, making a determined effort to look as if nothing was the matter.

"You're cold!" The Doctor hurried after her.

"I will adapt."

"It wasn't like this when we arrived," he grumbled, irrationally annoyed with this planet and its fluctuating air pressure. "Confound it … if I were organic, I could at least offer you my jacket."

Seven stopped in her tracks, uncharacteristically hunched in on herself against the cold, and gave him such a long, unreadable look that he began staring at the tips of his boots rather than meet her eyes. Had he said something inappropriate? Offering to share clothes with your colleague was inappropriate, wasn't it, even if it was arguably in aid of her health? Oh dear.

"In theory," she said, "As long as you maintain contact with the jacket while I am wearing it, it should remain connected to your mobile emitter."

"Oh … Oh." He hadn't even thought of that. "And … you wouldn't mind?"

"It would be a logical solution," she said, with a sobriety that would have given Commander Tuvok credit.

"Alright." He cleared his throat and began unzipping his science officer's jacket, careful not to let go. "Here."

He draped it over her shoulders, slid his hand along one sleeve and drew her arm through his. The jacket did not dematerialize. It stayed on her, black and teal and a little bit wide on her, which looked odd with her blue biosuit underneath. She zipped it up with her free hand, shrugged her shoulders as if adjusting the fit, and nodded.

"Are you warm enough?"

"Quite. Thank you. Are you?"

"Oh, I don't feel the cold." He looked down at his bluish-gray turtleneck with, he thought, pardonable smugness. "I mean, I register it, but it doesn't affect me. I could be strolling down this street dressed like the Paxau Resort staff if I felt like it. Fortunately, I don't."

Her face hardly moved, but through their linked arms, he could feel her shake with suppressed laughter.

He blessed the wind as they headed back to the shuttle.