Ch 4. Doctor

"I do not require medical attention," reiterated Commander J'Tava for, by the Doctor's mathematically flawless calculations, the billionth time. If he were more susceptible to injury, he might have feared his unwilling Klingon patient, but thanks to his holographic nature, nothing she could do would affect him too much. He was certain the fact drove her wild.

"Say it all you want," the Doctor retorted as he stepped around her, the medical tricorder in his hand scanning her internal systems. "It won't get you out of here any faster. Cooperating, on the other hand, will, so I recommend you follow my orders." He took a step back, admiring the paradigm of Klingon stature that sat before him. "My, my. You Klingons certainly are assembled well."

"You say that like it's a surprise, Doctor," the Commander replied confidently. She took advantage of his momentary pause to hop off the table. "If you're all finished then, I have something to attend to in engineering."

"Ah, yes. With Lieutenant Commander Torres?" As a humanoid nature enthusiast, the Doctor found it riveting to watch people disagree. The fact that the half-Klingon engineer and full-Klingon Commander harbored such strong and instant distaste for one another was simply fascinating. "She mentioned something about it earlier during her physical."

The Commander's confident smirk instantly contorted into an angry sneer. "This physical is over," she growled before storming out. The Doctor followed to the doorway and watched her stomp down the hallway. He looked at the clock and smirked. Yes, her physical was done. Ten minutes ago.

"Is this really necessary?" insisted the Ferengi Lieutenant. "I guarantee I'm in perfect condition. I've been with the best doctor in the quadrant since I was a boy."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow skeptically. "The best, you say?" The statement was confirmed by a nod. "And, would you be so kind as to grace me with a name for this doctor?" The indignant tone did little to express his disbelief that such a doctor could exist in any form but his own.

The young Lieutenant sat up a little straighter to reply. "Doctor Julian Bashir, here at the station. He's a reported genius." Nog spewed several impressive facts about the man, but the Doctor did his best not to listen to the specifics; begrudgingly, he recognized the name and could not deny that Julian Bashir was an astounding physician.

"Well," he grumbled, "this physical is still demanded by regulations, regardless of past treatment." The Doctor snatched his medical tricorder and began to scan the Lieutenant, receiving optimal cooperation until he neared a particular body part. It was subtle discordance, a tiny flinch that for anyone else-and yes, perhaps even the wonderful Julian Bashir-might have gone unnoticed. The Doctor looked seriously at his current patient, and indicating towards his leg asked, in a kinder tone than he had used before, "So, what happened here?"

All joviality immediately dissipated from the Ferengi. "Lost it in the war," he answered gravely, his voice low and rough in a way that felt almost like an entirely other person had replaced him. "Got shot by a Jem'Hadar and had to have it removed. This one's biosynthetic." He sighed. "But it's not quite the same."

The Doctor put down the tricorder and patted Nog's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with artificial, son," he said with a faint smile. "You check out fine. You're dismissed."

"Do you know," the Doctor mused as he slowly waved the tricorder before Counselor Barris's face, "that I've never actually examined a Bajoran before?"

The petite brunette laughed. "Well, that's only fair," she replied cheerily, green eyes peering beyond the instrument and straight at the man examining her. Though the Doctor focused primarily on the readings the tricorder produced, feeling her stare was a bit unsettling. "I've never been treated by a hologram before either."

"With this crew, I think you'll have more patients than I will," the Doctor chuckled. "Have you seen the way Commander J'Tava and Lieutenant Commander Torres go at it already? Talk about anger issues." He paused briefly. "Actually, given the nature of Klingons, I might end up eating those words."

"Oh, yes. They're hilarious." He had glanced away to consult the computer, but the Doctor did a doubletake at the counterintuitive statement from the Counselor of all people. "What I mean is," she elaborated casually, "Klingon rivalry, to me, is entertaining, especially involving J'Tava. We go way back. I've seen her best and worst."

"Do you think they'll end up friends?" he inquired with genuine interest. "I'd much prefer that to cutting each other to bits with bat'leths in the holodeck."

"Oh, don't worry, Doctor. They'll end up friends," Barris reassured him. "But they'll cut each other to bits first. And then once they're friends, they'll do it again for fun." She smiled, which only further inspired his obvious concern. "Ah, I love Klingons." Her sunny disposition quickly became almost menacing, as she tightened her posture. "Wanna place bets on who gets maimed worse?"

"Everything looks perfect," announced the Doctor at last. Seven of Nine was always his favorite patient; she never fought against him or berated his technique. He admired her exceptional calmness, the way she sat so still that he could have sworn she was a Renaissance painting if not for her borg implants and Starfleet attire, although those factors hardly distracted from her overwhelming classical beauty and-

No. He was not going to do this to himself again.

Over the past two years, the Doctor had hardly seen Seven. He understood; she was busy with the Academy. And Chakotay. He did not know how their relationship might have advanced over these years, but he didn't really want to know. He knew that she was still with him, and that was what mattered. Yes, he understood very well.

"Am I released?" Her question dragged him back into reality, the one where they were shipmates and friends and nothing else. The expression on his face attested to his bewilderment, so she repeated herself. "I said, am I released?"

"Oh, right," he replied somewhat nervously. "Yes, of course."

"Excellent." She rose slowly but purposefully from the Bench? and headed to the door. The motion sensors detected her, and the door opened accordingly, but she did not immediately exit. Instead, she turned back to him. "It's good to see you again, Doctor." His focus had befallen his computer, but immediately his eyes shot to her. "I neglected to say so at the briefing, but it's very good to see you again. I have missed your company." He offered no response-was capable of none-so she simply smiled, nodded, and went on her way, emitting a breathy hum remarkably close to something he himself had taught her years before.

When the doors resealed and she was out of his hearing range, the Doctor found himself picking up where her sound left off: "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."