What has he done? What has reg done? Really, these questions are rhetorical, unnecessary for a sentient hologram. I know what he has done, he has taken more than one dose of whatever it is that Beverley has prescribed him. He is high, there is no other word for it. Photons weep! We have less than an hour until our audition, and here he is, attempting to flirt with Seven!

'Lt Barclay, I must insist that you leave my workstation. Your attentions are reducing my efficiency.' A whip crack of speech with a tone of pure ice.

'Seven, have I ever mentioned how beautiful you look. The scarlet of your suit matches that of your lips' he smiles, and tries to grasp her hand, but her reflexes are Borg an she slips easily from his grasp.

'I believe that your cognition has been compromised Lt Barclay. Doctor! Please can you remove the lieutenant to your office immediately!' There is ill concealed anger to her voice. As my friendship with Reg has grown closer, Seven has found his presence less appealing.

needless to say, I comply with her wishes and grasp his elbow to persuade him into my inner sanctum.

'Reg! what are you doing' I hiss as we pass through the portal 'more pressingly, what have you taken? our audition is only an hour away. i need to counter this immediately! Reg!' the last at more of a shout as he is walking back out of my office and heading once more towards Seven. I watch Seven's mouth make a delectable moue of annoyance before she closes down her station and states her intention of leaving. I rush out

'doctor, I would wish you every success, but I think even the captain's presence could not make this enterprise successful'

'Seven!' I call, but she has left, and her remarks cut. Once she would have self styled as my biggest fan, before love, before the commander. I try not to notice the sympathetic looks from Tarlen who clearly has identified my unrequited passion. Or maybe he just sympathises with someone who also feels the arctic blast of her disapprobation. When we have completed this audition, I will speak to the Captain.

Now the laboratory lacks its radiant if icy star, Reg returns dejectedly to me. Even he knows not to try the charm and flirtatious stance with our Vulcan scientist. I hustle him back into my office, where he continues to pointlessly deny having taken any medication. My tricorder begs to differ. If I am not mistaken, and I am so rarely mistaken that it would be worth writing it up if this were the case, he has taken the whole hypospray of the sample anxiolytic I had given beverley, and another anxiolytic. It appears to have completely disrupted his usual social inhibitions. I am not sure that I can remedy this without a chain of side effects. 'Sit reg!' I need to contemplate if there is anything that I can safely offer at this stage.

beeping disrupts my chain of thought. My nervousness over the upcoming audition is clearly tangling too many of my logical algorhythms into twisting loops, and I lose the thread of my cognitive process. I am allowing myself to be distracted. my console is registering a deluge of messages, and there are numerous from the crew, scuttlebutt also registering their well wishes. I had been so concerned that off Voyager I would have no role, and maybe even be deactivated.

'Janeway to Voyager EMH'

'doctor here'

'honestly doctor, please choose a name! Anyway, we wish to just wish you and Reg all the best! I tried to see if I could sneak in, but golden girl status only goes so far. Let me know how it went. We are all pinning our hopes on you to uphold our Voyager family pride. I have every faith in you to come through for us. I will be in for our weekly catch up tomorrow and expect a full debrief doctor!' I am trying to ignore reg mimicking the Captain' gestures and mannerisms whilst she talks.

'Thankyou Kathryn'

I turn round to move Reg out to the audition and realise that he has taken the charicature too far. he is gulping down coffee. 'No!' and with that shout he spills scalding coffee down his chest. He is shrieking, I realise that it is truly a Janeway hot and black. As he claws at the jacket, slow and ineffective in its removal, I get the analgesic hypospray and the dermal regenerator. At this rate we are going to miss the audition. I shoot him with the analgesic, and strip him off quickly, passing the dermal generator whilst ordering the replicator to recreate Reg's upper body uniform. 'honestly Reg, we don't have time for this' i snap exasperated.

Too late do I consider the toxic interaction of analgesics and caffeine with the overdose of anxiolytics.

'Is everything under control, Doctor?' her voice of worried concern. dammit! I had forgotten that the captain was still on audio. 'I believe Reg is just... nervous. i will see you tomorrow, Doctor out' and I cut the connection as a I quickly re-dress Reg. He is busy burbling over his infatuation for Seven, it seems bsed primarily on her physcial attributes rather than her singular charm and personality, and that he might be stiff competition for me. Not as stiff as his customary singing manner I snort to myself. 'Just get dressed Reg, now!' I bark at him and then angrily frogmarch him towards the audition hall. Today was not the right day to be playing nursemaid to my best friend and be privy his protestations of love.

He dawdles, head spinning to view every female that walks past us. A weathervane perpetually pointing to female. Honestly, every single one. Without Fail. And that mouth, the mouth that so commonly stumbles to deliver the messages his brain devises, today it is in alignment with th fervour of a modern Shelley or Keats. he is spouting compliments, they carelessly fall from his tongue, fully formed and calculated to inflame passion, or at least a blush. I can't believe it! Many of the seemingly dour and care-laden lieutenants giggle and start to respond, flowering in the sunlight of his poesy, watered by his epigrams.

Thank the stars for the mobile emitter. Without it I wouldn't be able to continue to drag him down the corridors.

'yes, yes!' I say abruptly to ensign and commanders alike 'he will still be here once we have done the starfleet audition. yes, he will love to hear from you, Lieutenant Barclay, Pathfinder' and with ungentle hands I am pulling him towards our destination as his words of love linger softly in the halls and the smiles of the impressionable.

'Torres to Voyager EMH'

'doctor here' sigh! 'honestly B'Elanna, I am in somewhat of a hurry, we do have an audition' I bite out with some asperity. Reg is distracted again, kissing the hand of some passing Bolian and declaring her skin tone to match his favourite summer skies. Her voice is apparently more beautiful than the songbirds or the summers lark spiralling on the updraft created by the bliss of her smile. I feel nauseous.

'We were just wishing you the best of chances' B'elanna says, well, mostly I think that is what she is saying over an exponentially increasing siren blast of a Klingon infant. 'Ah!' I quip ' I hear my beautiful goddaughter including her unique felicitations' B'elanna snorts as I continue ' thankyou, but I really need to... Oh for Heavens sake Reg! just keep your hands to yourself!' in my distraction, he has enveloped a Klingon warrior woman, who is looking uncertain as to whether to cut the offending arms off. His particular brand of wooing being unsuited to the Klingon psyche. I apologise profusely as I drag Reg away. Since that infernal wailing has ceased, Torres must have cut our comms.

Finally, we are at the audition venue. I pass a critical eye over Reg. His uniform is precise and correct, but his hair is somewhat rakishly finger brushed, and his pupils are not as reactive to light as they should be, a flush in his cheeks enhances his boyish appearance, but makes my analytical algorhythms alarm. I think we have an hour maximum before the cocktail of up and down he has had causes a significant loss of control.

The door opens into the auditorium and we are ushered to the backstage warmup area. I start my vocal warm up, though clearly unnecessary. However, despite pointed looks at Reg as I 'mi' the diminished seventh chord, he is steadfastly resolute in his imperviousness to my subtle suggestion of preparation. Instead, he has taken an interest in a group of females presumably auditioning for the daughters. I can't believe it, he is giving them advice and commentating on their looks, figure, voice. Moreover, they are giggling in response! They are ... letting him, encouraging him, flirting in return!

'Reg!' I have to call him back. His attentions may not be currently disadvantageous, but I think we need to be concentrating on our audition. I corral Reg and get him to vocally work out. Just in time, as we are called through. The chorus of female good luck follow us as Reg blows kisses. He is still blowing kisses as we arrive on stage. Oh Good God! He has walked backwards blowing the kisses and come so close to falling off the stage that I am surprised I am not carting him back to starfleet medical. Instead he has made the most balletic of pirouettes and is now facing and bowing to the judges. He has the grace and aplomb of a born entertainer whilst he is so high that he doesn't need any of the spacecraft this institution owns, he could make his way to the delta quadrant unaided. Unfortunately, I become suddenly aware that I have been racing up and down the stage in some distress, looking more like a parody of an automaton than a thoughtful and considered impresario. I come to an abrupt halt, closing my mouth, which I hope not but suspect has been gaping the entire time.

I smile haplessly at the judges, whilst Reg does enough talking for the both of us, and , I suspect, the whole cast. I recognise the commandant of the academy, Ivilina Chekova, an illustrious starfleet pedigree to match her august presence. Usually presenting a ferocious and dour expression, a half smile currently lilts at the corner of her mouth. I believe she was quite the firecracker captain, and I had a few bon mots to say around this, having worked for a firecracker of a captain with also an illustrious pedigree, though Commandant Chekova has silver spun hair rather than red, her inner fire is not diminished, damn that Barclay! He is stealing my lines, complimenting her, bowing low to her so that I quickly have to rush a demi bow looking uncomfortable, my legs apart rather than together gives me the impression I look more like a duck dipping its head for bread. He claims that it is an honour for us to sing to her, and now I am nodding, imbecile! Why am I allowing Reg to do all the talking. He offers to kiss her hand, and declares a broken heart when she declines before moving to the woman next to the commandant.

i search my database, and yes, it is the barkeep from Enterprise. I believe a distant cousin to Q, the though alone makes me scowl, which I must quickly wipe from my face. Reg passes on some more outrageous compliments, that it is hard for him to determine which of the two illustrious women he would have in his minds eye for the duet. Guinan looks at me and asks me who I think we are fighting over, and 'Seven of Nine' just tumbles from my lips to my horror. Reg looks at me with mock amazement,

'Doctor! I thought that was just a rumour! Isn't she still broken hearted over your first officer?' at this, all the judges lean forwards. Voyager access, and voyager gossip has been particularly sparse. 'You know I cannot comment out of turn, Reg, what we have discussed is a between friends only issue' I am at my prudish best, and hope that the judges appreciate my loyalty to my own crew. In fact, i think they may look appreciative, but Reg is carrying on 'come, come doctor! the annual starfleet production aims to be topical, and how can they do this effectively when talk of Voyager is so tightly controlled, think of the story lines!' 'Reg, I really think the Captain would be very unhappy for any suggestion of her... ' I stop, realising nothing I can say here will come across well. The judges are looking at each other and smiling.

'Very commendable' says the last judge, Professor Chester, from the conservatoire, here to provide professional support. 'However, I do believe that we should hear your singing now. A very difficult duet. Do you require further warm up?' He looks particularly at me. 'Doctor...?' and he leaves the opening for me to add my name. 'just doctor for now' and he sits back surprised. I am more so, I realise that my nature as a photonic has not been expressed. I look up, and Guinan nods particularly at me, and Reg is being effusive and takes his place on the stage. Having thought all this time that Reg may be our weak link, he is certainly currently owning the stage.

I try to clear my mind of all the worry I have for Reg, he is clearly ready to perform. The music starts, and my fears roll away as the music takes control. I truly feel and am the part, as I sing of my love, the love that I think I will never be able to openly have or express. I sing of my love for Seven, then tangled hurt from her explorations with the commander, knowing that she will never look at me. 'she is the most charming and beautiful goddess' I sing, my heart living in my voice. As the music waxes and wanes and reaches the most achingly sublime resolution I know that if I had a non photonic heart, it would be beating harder, faster and leaping from my chest. The beauty and purity of the harmony built by the contrapuntal melodic lines tugs at me, and I wish that I could express this to Seven, it is my love that enfolds each note as I offer it out, joining with the mellifluous counter melody that is torn achingly from Reg's soul. Somehow, we are creating real beauty between us, music that uplifts and creates the mirror of love and soul for the listener.

As the plangent harmonics of the last chord die away we hold still, we have delivered our finest, been honest and true to the form and heritage of such romantic music. I feel both drained and exhilarated. I have lived in the moment of the music, entwining myself with the cadences, allowing the thrum of the poignant interpositions take life in my form. And then move, we acknowledge each other first, and as I turn to our judges I hear an exhale followed by a thud. It needs none of my medical skills to tell me time is up for Reg. As the judges stand in concern, moving to call aid, I move to Reg, check his biosigns and call for a transport of us to my office in starfleet medical. I reassure them that this is well within my capabilities to manage and the transport takes us directly.

I place Reg on a biobed, and give a vitamin hypospray and a check of the vital parameters. Nothing a sleep filled night with monitoring won't remedy. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about our triumph. Whether we have been accepted or not, we created a thing of beauty. Periodically I check on Reg, peacefully sleeping. Another aria comes to mind Nessun Dorma indeed.