Schmullis

Source Episode: 2x19 "Lifesigns"

At the beginning of our journey, Harry seemed so shy when it came to flirting. He was a bold and fierce friend, to be sure, but sexual tension made him hesitate. I knew he had a girlfriend back on Earth, but how exactly had their relationship developed? I asked him once, and all he could say was that "it just felt right."

On my first date with Harry, I began to grasp—albeit loosely—what he meant.

The evening was, in a word, perfection. I could see Tom's fingerprints all over it, but it was also clear that Harry had done most of the planning. I never asked, but I suspected that Tom had been encouraging Harry to pursue me romantically, and giving Harry advice on how to impress me.

For the date, Harry brought me to Sandrine's for dinner, empty of the holocharacters that were usually part of the program. The pool table had been removed to make room for a dance floor, and the musical playlist featured the best of the crooners from Earth's 1930's and '40's jazz lounge scene. He had worked with Neelix on a dinner menu that was suspiciously to my liking—not a single hint of leola root in sight. Our table was dressed up with a white tablecloth, candles, and a small vase of scarlet roses in the middle.

Harry cleaned up nicely in black slacks, a white button down shirt left casually open at the top, and a gray sport jacket with a red pocket square.

I wore a sinuous, glittering, emerald green cocktail dress with long sleeves and a deep v-neckline that made his eyes pop when he saw me. The green of the dress made my copper-red hair stand out as it fell a few inches past my shoulders in waves, loosed from the low ponytail I usually kept it in.

As we cleaned the last bites of soufflé from our shared dessert dish, Harry asked to hear stories of my childhood on the Hepburn. I amused him with one about my older brother stealing our baby sister's favorite plush puppy.

"At first," I said, "he tried hiding it in our quarters, but she found it quickly and yelled at him to never touch her things. So, naturally, he stole it again. This time, he hid it behind a panel in one of the turbolifts. None of us could find it for two days. My parents had to threaten him with a month of grounding from the holodeck before he finally fessed up. Deb cried the whole time."

His face was bright with laughter. "Wow. How old was she?"

"Oh, god." I frowned as I thought back. "About five, I think."

He shook his head. "Poor girl."

"Yet you still insist you would have wanted siblings?"

"Well, you're closer now, aren't you?"

"We are. My brother and his wife made me their children's godmother when they were baptized into the church. Of course, my sister being so much younger than Jay and I, our relationship was different with her. But she was always so different from us anyway. Jay and I always knew we wanted to be in Starfleet like our parents, but Deb didn't. She ran off to do her bohemian artist thing as soon as she graduated high school."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. She's always been a free spirit. Typical youngest sibling. By the time she came along, Dad had Jay to be his protégée and Marnah—uh, that is, my mother—had me, so Deb got to do whatever the hell she wanted. Last I heard, she was in Nashville recording music."

"Wow, that's neat." He smiled. "Your family sounds like a lot of fun."

"They're the best." I tried to smile, but a tremor in my lower lip weighed it down. An apology started to form in his eyes, and I cleared my throat. "I don't get to talk about them a lot, so I forget how much I miss them. I haven't seen any of them other than Marnah since I left for Bajor in '69."

Harry reached across the table for my hands, squeezing them gently. "I'm sorry. That's really hard. I kind of know what you mean, though—about missing your family. My parents and I were really close, too."

I returned the squeeze.

Just then, Neelix appeared at the table. "Can I take your plate?"

"Please," Harry said.

I smiled at our host. "Neelix, everything was so delicious. Thank you for doing all of this."

His eyes twinkled as he grinned. "It was my pleasure, Commander. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Would you like me to open another bottle of wine for you before I leave?"

I shook my head. "No, I think we'll be fine, thank you."

"Very well, then. Have a good night, you two." He winked at us before leaving the holodeck with Kes helping him carry the last of our dishes.

Just after he left, the playlist switched to one of my very favorite songs—"I've Got You Under My Skin" by Frank Sinatra. I smiled at Harry. "Did Tom program the playlist for you?"

Harry shrugged coyly. "He may have lent a hand."

"He knows my weaknesses. I love this song."

"Care for a dance?"

"I'd love to," I said, holding out my hand. He stood and took it in his, leading me out onto the dance floor and sweeping me into a swinging rhythm.

"You're a good dancer," I observed after several steps.

"So are you. I hear you do a good version of this song in karaoke."

"Well, I don't want to brag, but I am really good at karaoke."

"We should do a karaoke night with the crew sometime."

"Oh, that would be fun!"

The adoration in his eyes was disarming, and I submerged myself in it. The lyrics of the song reverberated all the way into my bones, and I soon found myself singing along.

"I would sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near, in spite of the warning voice that comes in the night and repeats, repeats in my ear—"

His mouth quirked into a smile, and I felt my own lips curl upward in response. "I'm not as musical as my sister," I admitted, "but I can carry a tune."

"I could listen to you sing all night."

Softly, he stroked my thumb with his, our hands still clasped for the dance. The touch sent a flash of heat through me, aggravating a strange mix of feelings that twisted in my belly. His words could have easily been a line, but somehow I knew he was entirely sincere.

There was no explaining it. I just knew.

I blew a sharp breath between parted lips. Never before had I hesitated to take charge of situations when I wanted something. I knew how to wield my power over a lover, both for pleasure and intimidation. But Tom was right—I had no desire to use that against Harry. His advances were tender and pure, which was the very thing that disarmed me. We weren't in competition for power or control.

So, what were we?

"I didn't exactly ask for your permission before," he admitted, "but I'd really like to kiss you now, if you'll let me."

The request rippled through me with a shiver. Wetting my lips, I consented with a single nod.

As the music swelled, Harry lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss was feather-light, and it ended much too soon. I was about to be frustrated with him when, instead of pulling away, he painted kisses outward across my cheek and down along my jaw.

The move made my insides twist with an entirely new feeling that I didn't know how to name. My breath escaped on a sigh as his perfect lips dragged like velvet against my skin.

Suddenly, Harry pulled away from me. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry. I got a little carried away. It's supposed to be a first date, but it feels—"

I smiled. "I know. I don't mind."

His hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer. This time, the kiss was deep and slow and liquid-smooth like the wine that lingered on our tangling tongues. Releasing our clasped hands, we began to explore one another in earnest.

It was a new and strange hunger that crept inside my belly that night. Sure as I was of my attraction towards him, my next move would have normally been to invite him back to my place. But knowing what I knew about Harry, that would be too much.

Besides, something was growing between us that felt like uncharted territory, and I didn't want to rush it. Since the beginning of our journey on Voyager, Harry had become one of my closest friends. I needed to know that I was falling in love with him before we crossed that line.

The problem was, I wasn't sure that I knew what it felt like to really be in love.

A little over a week later, we answered the distress call of a Vidiian woman. She had been alone on a shuttle heading to a remote colony when we found her, unconscious and near death. No one knew what to expect from her if she woke, but it was our duty to render aid when it was requested.

Even if it meant saving the life of an organ-harvester.

Although the woman was in pretty bad shape, the EMH impressed us yet again with his brilliant and innovative programming. The doctor discovered that the woman had a unique implant which stored her synaptic functions. He was able to temporarily preserve her brain activity by downloading her consciousness into a holographic projection of her healthy body. He asked me to be present when he animated her holographic body, and I was astonished at the projection of the woman lying on the bed. None of us had ever seen a healthy Vidiian before, but she really didn't look much different from most humanoid species.

After the EMH transferred her consciousness into the program, the woman awoke with a start. She was utterly shocked to look down and see her skin healthy and smooth. "What have you done to me?"

"I used the undamaged chromosomes in your cerebellum to recreate your original DNA code," the EMH informed her, "and then programmed the computer to project a holographic template based on that genome."

She sat up on the bio bed. "Holographic?"

"It's a three-dimensional computer-generated simulation," I explained, handing a mirror to her so she could see herself.

As the EMH rambled on about the procedure he had performed, the woman examined herself in the mirror, touching her face in disbelief. Her eyes welled up with tears.

I put down my PADD and moved to stand next to her. "Is everything okay?"

The EMH frowned. "Why are you crying? I thought you'd be pleased."

"I am," she insisted as she wiped away a tear. "I just never expected to look healthy again. I've been sick for so long."

I couldn't help but smile at her reaction. "What's your name?"

"Denara," she replied, finally putting the mirror down. "Denara Pel. What's yours?"

"I'm Talia," I said, "and he just goes by Doctor."

"I'll need a complete medical history," the EMH declared, snatching a PADD from the sickbay console. I picked up mine, as well, before he began questioning her. "How long have you been ill exactly?"

"I was first diagnosed with the phage when I was seven," she answered.

"And when did you begin receiving replacement tissue?"

"About that same time."

"How did you feel about that?" I just inquired.

"At first, it was hard to get used to the changes, but it happened so often that, after a while, I almost stopped noticing. I never thought I'd see myself again." She smiled. "Thank you. This is the most extraordinary thing anyone has ever done for me."

"I wouldn't be too grateful," the doctor warned. "There are serious limitations to being a hologram. First of all, we can only exist within environments equipped with holo-emitters, such as sickbay."

The realization of what he had said dawned on her face. "Do you mean you're a—a computer simulation?"

"An incredibly sophisticated computer simulation," he confirmed.

"Denara," I said, redirecting the conversation, "why were you alone on that shuttle?"

"I was helping to treat an outbreak of the phage on Fina Prime. I was on my way back to my home colony, but it's a long journey and my condition got worse."

The EMH looked up from his PADD with interest. "You're a medical practitioner of some kind?"

She nodded. "A hematologist."

He smiled slightly. "Well then, perhaps given your expertise, you can help me with your treatment. Your synaptic patterns will eventually degrade if we don't get them out of the pattern buffers and back into your brain."

"How long?" she asked as she followed him to the console.

"A few days. Perhaps a week. Your real body is in stasis." He lead her to the surgical bay where her natural body was laid out. She winced at the sight of herself, and grew silent. "As you can see," the doctor continued, "we have to find a way to repair your damaged neural tissue."

"Doctor," I interjected, quickly making my way over to her. "Denara. If I may, I'd like to ask you a few questions of my own."

The EMH pursed his lips, his wind taken out of him, but he acquiesced. "Very well. I'll be in my office researching treatment options."

"Would you rather that we talk over by the other beds?" I asked after he left the room.

She gave me a forced smile and nodded. After we took seats opposite one another on neighboring bio beds, she was the first to speak. "Well," she said, "I would imagine that your culture's idea of a counselor is very different from mine. What is it that you do?"

"My area of expertise is humanoid psychology," I replied. "My primary functions are to oversee the emotional and mental health of anyone on board the ship. Mostly, I do this through counseling, wherein I meet with a patient and have a conversation with them that allows me to determine whether they may be suffering from any kind of psychological distress or illness. As a secondary function, I can also serve as a diplomatic advisor to the command staff, as I have extensive training in observing behavioral patterns and analyzing the processes behind those patterns."

"That's incredible," she said with wonderment. "We don't have anything like that in our culture."

"You said you have counselors of another kind, though. What do they do?"

"Mostly, they meet with patients and manage their files, and advise them about doctors and treatments. They have some training in psychology so they can help patients understand and cope with their own condition or the condition of a loved one, but they mainly focus on guiding patients through the healthcare process."

I nodded. "We actually have something similar to that in Terran culture. We call them social workers. Our ship doesn't employ one, so some of that falls onto me, but many larger ships do."

"I'd love to learn more about your culture and its healthcare practices," she said sincerely. "I imagine if my people weren't so obsessed with treating and curing the phage, we might be similar. As it is, most Vidiians consider psychological health to be a luxury that we can't afford to spend resources on when there is so much physical suffering."

"I understand. I can only imagine what it must be like. I noticed you reacted pretty severely to seeing your natural body in the surgical bay after having accepted your holographic appearance. Would you be willing to elaborate on why that was so jarring for you?"

As we talked, I not only came to know Denara's beautiful soul, but I also came to a deeper understanding of her people and the way that centuries of incurable suffering had fundamentally shaped their social psychology. The more I listened, the more I struggled to reign in my emotions and remain neutral.

I was also struck by how compassionate and empathetic she was as an individual. Understandably, she exhibited symptoms of generalized anxiety and depression, but she was an overall very highly adjusted individual considering everything she had been through and seen. I noted that traits like compassion and empathy seemed to be considered hinderances to her people—an observation that she confirmed—and I wondered at how she had managed to cope with the hard realities of her career as someone who displayed both characteristics so strongly.

"I have learned how to use them as a way to help me better understand my patients," she told me. "I have to constantly remind myself to stay professional, and to consider the larger goals of what I do, rather than becoming overly involved each patient's situation. But, most of my people tend to get so caught up in the big picture that they overlook the individuals who make up our society. I think that having a greater understanding of individual lives would change the way we approach our goals, and make things better for everyone."

I smiled at her. "Denara, have you ever considered becoming a social advocate?"

Counselor's Log, supplemental.

B'Elanna agreed to donate some of her brain tissue to graft into Denara's brain. Evidently, Klingon DNA is highly resistant to the Phage. The tissue our EME collected will need some time to grow before he can perform the surgery. For now, Denara is enjoying her holographic body.

Chez Sandrine's always had a romantic feel about it, no matter what the patrons were doing. Even so, the mood seemed to deepen when the EMH walked in with Denara on his arm and a goofy grin on his face. Tom and Harry were too busy were too busy trying to beat Chakotay and Neelix at a game of pool to notice, but I could see right away that something was going on between them.

"Hey," I said as leaned over to B'Elanna, who was sitting next to me watching the game. "I'm seeing some anomalous readings at three-ten-mark-zero."

She glanced at the table where the couple sat, frowning at a holocharacter. "So?"

"You don't see it? They like each other."

She snorted. "That's not possible. The doctor's programming doesn't include romance."

"Is it possible that he may have begun to surpass his original programming?"

She watched them for a long moment, considering the option. Then, she cracked an amused smile. "Actually, Talia, I think you might be right."

As it turned out, my observation to B'Elanna was prophetic.

The next night, Sandrine's was a fair bit quieter. Tom and I were sitting at a table by the bar, drinking tea and wasting time, when the EMH appeared in the room.

"Doc," Tom greeted. "What brings you here? Is somebody sick?"

"Actually, Mister Paris, I was looking for you." He nodded at me. "Hello, Commander. Where is your counterpart this evening?"

I smiled. "Harry's on bridge watch tonight. Would you like me to excuse myself?"

"No, actually, you may be of some assistance."

"Pull up a chair," Tom invited, gesturing for him to join us.

The EMH seemed nervous as he took the seat across from me and Tom. "Mister Paris, I assume you've had a great deal of experience being rejected by women."

Tom snorted. "Oh, thanks a lot, Doc."

I nodded my head and mouthed, a lot.

The doctor looked nonplussed. "What I'd like to know is, what does one do to recover from the unpleasant symptoms of romantic rejection?"

"Why the sudden interest in romance?" Tom asked.

"I can't tell you." The EMH raised his chin slightly. "It's a matter of doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Ah," Tom said as he stood to pour himself more tea at the bar. "All right. Well, let's see. Sometimes there's not a lot you can do to get over a woman you really care about. I remember when Susie Crabtree dumped me back in my first year at the academy. I broke out in hives. Couldn't get out of bed for a week. I almost failed Stellar Cartography. I walked around in a daze for the rest of that year."

"Yeah," I mumbled, thinking back to his ill-fated romance with my first roommate. "That was a bad year."

"Of course," Tom continued, "the first one is always the hardest to get over. But, eventually, you start thinking about her less and less until finally, without realizing it, she's not on your mind anymore."

The EMH looked hopeful. "So, the symptoms do subside over time?"

"Doctor," I interjected, "you're approaching this like a medical problem, when it's actually an emotional one. Symptoms can be treated with a hypospray, but emotions have to be wrestled with. They're a lot messier, and a lot more abstract."

"I don't understand. How does one 'wrestle with' an emotion?"

"You need to face your feelings. Acknowledge their existence and accept the circumstances that lead you to feel them. Then, you need to decide whether or not to do something about those circumstances. After that, you make a conscious effort to move forward rather than letting yourself get stuck in them."

"Wait a minute, Doc," Tom said. "We're not talking about you, are we?"

Although the doctor hesitated to admit it, he was in psychological pain. When his only response to Tom's question was to hang his head, we all knew there was no hiding the truth anymore.

He had romantic feelings for Denara.

The EMH told us about the previous evening, which he spent with her. They had a stimulating conversation, and she appreciated his humor like no one else ever had. She gave him a name that night—Schmullis, after an uncle who used to make her laugh.

Then, the doctor explained how awkward things got between them upon returning to sickbay. They bid each other goodnight, and he shut down her program in order to give her neural energy a rest. Yet once she vanished, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He recalled a conversation with Kes the next morning, in which she pointed out that he was probably attracted to Denara. Kes suggested that the EMH simply tell Denara how he felt.

And then he followed Kes's advice by bluntly revealing his feelings to Denara in the midst of performing surgery on Denara's body together.

Naturally, this blindsided Denara. "I think it's best if we keep our relationship professional," she insisted.

When the EMH finished explaining his situation, Tom sighed and shook his head. "Wow, Doc. That's... something. But it sounds to me like she might just be shy. I think you scared her off."

The doctor's eyes lit up. "I did?"

"Your approach is all wrong."

"Well, what would be the right approach?"

"Most women like romance. They want men to make an effort, take them some place special."

The EMH looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. He turned back to Tom. "Where would I take her?"

Tom deactivated Sandrine's and created a new holoprogram. Soon, we were standing on top of Martian landscape, overlooking one of the colonies. Parked next to us was a mid-twentieth century convertible sports car. Tom showed the EMH how to use the radio for playing music. He suggested that the doctor could study astronomical charts of the Martian night sky, so he could point out some of the planets and constellations to Denara.

The EMH nodded. "Very well, I'll download the necessary charts."

"And make sure you have a gift of some kind to give her when she arrives."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know, roses, chocolates, a teddy bear… that sort of thing."

"I see. All right. Anything else?"

Tom glanced at me, and I wagged my eyebrows suggestively. He looked back at the EMH. "Doc, have you ever thought about altering your program to include… sexual functions?"

The EMH frowned. "I never considered it to be necessary. Why? Do you think I should?"

I shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt to be prepared. You know, just in case things go that way."

He gave a firm nod. "I'll make the necessary alterations."

"Oh, but please don't go blurting out to her what you've done," I quickly added. "You don't want to scare her off again, and a lot of people aren't comfortable having sex on a first date. Especially if they're shy. Just take it slow. You know? Keep it organic."

"Organic?"

"Let it flow naturally," Tom explained. "Don't push her to do anything she's not comfortable with. Let her be the one in control of the date."

Again, Doc nodded. "I understand."

Our advice was, evidently, quite helpful.

Twenty-four hours later, the EMH and Denara were on their date. The morning after, they were practically floating around sickbay. Even after Denara's brain graft was complete and her consciousness transferred back into her biological body, the pair were inseparable for the following two weeks as Voyager traveled towards Denara's home colony.

As the time to say good-bye to Denara drew closer, Harry, Tom, and I completed a new hologram simulating a karaoke bar near Starfleet Academy's main campus called Annie's Shaken and Slurred. We worked with Neelix and Chakotay to plan a crew karaoke night before Denara's departure from Voyager, and we helped the EMH come up with a plan for something romantic to do for the woman he had come to love.

Tom and I opened the event, performing an old Earth duet that had been one of our favorites to sing at the real Annie's Bar—called "Jackson." After we finished our song, we turned the mic over to the doctor, who nervously took the stage and flawlessly sang "The Way You Look Tonight." His eyes never once left Denara's.

"Someday, when I'm awfully low, and the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight."

From our seats at the table nearest the side of the stage, Tom and I exchanged a quick glance before each grabbing small devices on the table in front of us, flicking them on to produce a tiny holographic flames, and holding them up in the air. B'Elanna and Harry, who sat on either side of us, did the same, as did Neelix and Kes at the table next to us. Then, one by one, the rest of the crew followed suit.

Denara leaned over to me from where she sat with Neelix and Kes. "What do the flames mean?" she asked.

I smiled at her. "It's an ancient Terran tradition. At concerts, when musicians played a particularly meaningful song, the audience would pull out devices called 'lighters' and hold them in the air to show the performer how much they loved the song."

Her smile shone beautifully, glowing with the radiance of her love, as she sat back in her seat and met the doctor's eyes once more.

"With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fears apart…"

By the time the EMH finished the song, Denara was in tears. He left the stage and returned to his table, tenderly pressing a kiss onto her forehead before taking his seat.

B'Elanna smiled approvingly at Tom, and I leaned into Harry's side as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

The karaoke program ended up being a hit with the crew. Chakotay even convinced Captain Janeway to take a turn, and she surprised us all with a hearty rendition of the ancient Irish folk song, "Kelley The Boy From Killane."

The following night would be the last one that the EMH and Denara had together. We all left them alone on the holodeck to say good-bye as only the truest of lovers could.

By the time Denara left Voyager, many of the crew had warmed up to her irresistible charm and her gentle soul, and we all learned something about ourselves in the process. The hardest hit by her departure, naturally, was the doctor, who was also by far the most changed by her time with us.

I created a new patient profile then, perhaps the first ever psychological record for a hologram. But, he wasn't just a hologram anymore. True, he was still composed of photons held together by force fields, but Denara's love had made him rise above his programming. She had given him a soul.

As I sat with him in his office, counseling him through his very human heartbreak, I noticed him sliding back into his identity before her. When she was on board, I had envied them both for how easily love had come to them in their innocence, while I struggled to know how to think of my feelings for Harry.

Yet as I talked with him about coping with her departure, I realized that somewhere inside he still believed that he was nothing more than a computer program. I had to stop this digression before he let his grief steal away all that he had gained in the past month, so I told him exactly how I had come to see him since Denara first arrived—as a fully realized person no different from her or from the rest of the crew.

"But, I'm not a person," he insisted. "I'm a computer simulation of a person."

"I think Denara would disagree." I argued, smiling at him supportively. "If you can love, then you are sentient. If you are aware of your sentience, and you can reflect on it and make choices about it, then you have consciousness. If you have consciousness, then you are a person in your own right, no matter what you're made of."

I paused, allowing him to process my statement before I continued. "Doctor, I think you should make it official."

"What do you mean?"

"Ask Captain Janeway to enter the name Denara gave you into the ship's records. She's already created a personnel file for you, when she gave you your rank and position, and you've been building it up quickly with all of the innovative work you've done here. It doesn't do very well for us to call you Lieutenant Doctor EMH, not after Denara has given you your name." Breaking my usual rule against unprofessional displays of affection, I gently laid my hand on top of his. "Accept Denara's gift to you. Honor her memory, and the memory of how her love gave you life. Nothing would make her happier than that."

He considered it for several seconds before finally giving me a nod. "All right," he said. "I will."

I grinned at him proudly. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Schmullis."