The BLTS Archive- Reunion
by Dr. Jekyl (doc_jekyl@hotmail.com)

---

Disclaimer: Belongs to Paramount

Comments: I've been told that this is something of a tear jerker. One 
day I swear I'll write something happy for a change. One day. :D

All  feedback is appreciated. Well, not all. Only the good stuff. ;)

---

The station was crowded, a confusion of bustling beings of various
races, run-away luggage, pets, children, people searching for
boading-passes, docking-bays and passports... it seemed to hover scant
inches away from chaos. Periodically, the comm unit would sound,
announcing the latest arrivals and boarding calls, as well as
departures and clipped passenger reminders.

She sat on a chair, a rock of calm in the seeming chaos that flowed
around her, absently wondering how, that hundred of years after the
invention of such crude mechanisms for transportation as the internal
combustion engine, travel was still, to many, such daunting and
ill-organised affair. But then, she mused, it was the end of the
so-called Earth 'holiday season', and many who did not normally travel
much further than the end of their solar-system were returning to
their respective planets from vacations and family get-togethers. The
noise in particular was oppressive, and she began to feel a slight
tinge of claustrophobia, an irrational fear that no amount of therapy
had been able to cure.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice boomed over the din, "If it isn't
my favorite Borg."

"Ex-Borg, as you know very well, Doctor," she replied with a hint of a
smile and stood to face him.

At her slightly amused expression his own smile widened and, dropping
his bags, he pulled her into a bear-hug. After a few seconds, he broke
the contact and took a step back.

"I didn't expect you to come and meet me here. I'm not complaining,
mind. It's great to see you again, in the flesh, so to speak."

"Likewise."

"It's been what, two years?"

"Actually it's closer to three. I trust you've been well?"

"More or less, more or less... I had a virus scare two weeks ago, but
now I'm as fit as the metaphorical fiddle," the Doctor said and
paused, looking her up and down, noting the slight creases and
crinkles that, despite best efforts of both modern medical science and
the nano-probes in her blood-stream, had taken up residence on her
face over the years. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Flattery," she deadpanned, "is irrelevant."

He chuckled and bent to re-capture his bags.

"Stating the honest truth isn't flattery, Annika," he chided, still
smiling, "but, if you insist I dispense with the usual platitudes, I
shall. I guess some things will never change."

"Perhaps, but I take it your appearance will not be one of them" she
teased back as they began to weave their way through the crowd and
away from the busy shuttle-terminal. The hologram's fondness for
changing his appearance almost as often as most people changed their
clothes was near legendary.

"Well," he admitted, "that goes without saying. But as I always say,
why just change the outfit when you can change the body that goes with
it? Besides, it keeps my students on their toes. For the reunion,
however, I thought it might be a good idea to revert to something
people will actually recognize. It's not as if I wear my emitter on my
sleeve anymore, handy for identificational purposes."

"Your logic is... impeccable... Doctor."

"I should hope so. Isn't it always?"

She appeared to consider that.

"Most of the time," she announced after a moment.

"Most of the time? Only most of the time? Hmmph. Next think you'll be
telling me I sing flat."

"Actually..."

He sighed and treated the ceiling to his best 'why me' look.
"Impossible. As you well know, I am incapable of singing an 'off
note'. Five minutes of you, me and a tuning fork shall soon sort out
just who's flat and just who, as always, is note-perfect."

She smiled. "You lost last time."

"I very well did not," he huffed, "The tuning fork was out of tune. It
was sharp. And so were you."

"I was under the impression that the reason for creating a tuning fork
was to provide a device that established the correct pitch of a note.
Therefore, a tuning fork can't be out of tune. At any rate, I wasn't
sharp. Face the facts. You were flat by all of .027 hertz."

"Impossible," he snorted, valiantly trying to mask another smile and
maintain his facade of insulted irritation, "I was dead accurate and
you know it."

"Perhaps... and then perhaps not. But I'm feeling generous tonight,
Doctor, so I'll give you another chance to prove your accuracy. Shall
we say my quarters, 1700 hours? *You* may bring the tuning fork."

"It's a date."

They exchanged a smile and finished the walk to the transporter pad in
a companionable silence.

---

Night fell with a surprising suddenness, as it has a habit of doing on
many a world. In the intervening hours, she had given him a tour of
her apartment and grounds before the two had settled down to catch up
on news and exchange gossip, of which there was plenty, and reminisce
about 'old times'. They'd even managed to fit in their customary 'sing
off' and resulting argument over who won - which finally ended in a
mutually conceded draw. Eventually though, Annika announced that it
was time for her to turn in for the evening. The Doctor agreed.

"That's probably a good idea - after all, we've an early start
tomorrow. You know, I might actually turn in myself."

At her curious look he launched into an enthusiastic explanation of
the latest addition he'd made to his program.

"Sleep mode. You know, I'm absolutely amazed that I didn't think of it
and implement it earlier. It allows my image to be projected while the
rest of my program is essentially off-line - much like sleep in
organic beings. It's better than being completely off-line, as I don't
have to rely on either someone turning me back on or the emitter's
timer-function, and, in addition, it saves me from becoming bored when
everyone else *is* sleeping and I have nothing to do, or at least
nothing to do that won't wake anyone. I was thinking I may actually
program in some 'dream' sub-routines, to get the full experience, as
it were. What do you think?"

"I think it's an interesting concept," she said with a yawn and rose
from her seat, "and one well worth exploring. Just be careful. You
know what happened when you first experimented with creating
dream-subroutines on your own."

"I remember. Quite vividly," he winced, "That was an experience I
never want to repeat. Ever. In fact, I've tried rather hard to
convince myself the whole thing never happened."

It was too good a chance to miss.

"Not even if it meant you had the opportunity to play captain again?"

He raised a superior eyebrow and grinned. "You forget, I get to 'play
Captain' now legitimately, on occasion. Rank has it's privileges,
after all."

"Not even if it meant you got to paint me nude?"

His smile vanished to be replaced by a rather open-mouthed, shocked
expression. "Annika!"

"Don't worry. I never minded," she laughed, "In fact, I thought it was
quite... amusing."

He glared at her. "Thank you. Thank you very much indeed."

"Don't mention it," she replied and gave him another amused look,
"Good night, Doctor. Feel free to use the guest bedroom if you feel so
inclined."

He sighed and shook his head. He'd created a monster. And to think she
used to be accused of lacking a sense of humor.

"I might just do that. Good night yourself, Annika, and sleep well."

---

Some sixth sense prompted her to wake. A slight disturbance in the
air, a small noise where there should have been silence... both
pointed to another presence in the room.

"Computer, increase illumination by 20%."

The increase in lighting revealed one rather sheepish Doctor, lounging
in the doorway.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

She eyed him speculatively, her expression tinged with both amusement
and exasperation. "I was under the impression that you were going to
bed as well, Doctor. Have you developed a predilection I was unaware
of for watching people as they sleep?"

"No, not exactly. I just wanted to check up on you."

"Check up on me," she repeated.

"Something like that."

She looked at him, scrutinizing. There was something ...odd... about
his expression. It was at once both content and unhappy, the corners
of his mouth were turned up slightly but his eyes seemed to possess a
strange, sad quality, hinting at regret and longing. She had seen him
wear that expression before, and had often wondered what he was
thinking about, but never had it been directed so openly at her.

"Doctor?"

"Hmmm?"

She thought for a moment. "You've been a good friend to me."

He looked at her curiously. "I've always tried to be," he replied with
a slight smile, "Whether or not I succeeded at all is an entirely
different matter... but I like to think I did."

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, hands in her lap, and
considered it.

"I believe you succeeded, a majority of the time," she raised her gaze
from her hands to look at him again, continuing more slowly. "You're
my best friend, Doctor. You've always been there for me, willing to
listen to me and my problems and offer advice - even if some of it
*was* ....unsolicited," she allowed herself a slight smile when he
snorted in derision at that. "You've been supportive of me from the
moment I first arrived on Voyager, from our 'social lessons' to our
arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, my decision not to enlist in Star
Fleet, my first failed romantic relationship..." she trailed off,
remembering, even as she was sure he did.


It was just under four years after Voyager's return to the Alpha
Quadrant, and a 32 year-old human astronomer by name of Jonathan
Trafalgar. It was something straight out of a romance novel, all
love-at-first-sight and eyes meeting across a crowded room. True to
his promise of some six years earlier, the Doctor had made himself
available as confidant, dispenser-of-advice, liaison and general
accomplice when she'd decided to pursue the relationship. However, and
despite their best efforts, it had deteriorated and eventually came to
a messy, bitter end some five months after what the Doctor loosely
referred to as 'first contact'.

"He didn't deserve you," he remarked softly after a long, silent
minute.

"So you told me."

She focused on him again, more memories of that long-past evening
returning to her. A last-ditch effort to salvage the flagging romance
had ended in tatters, leaving her heart-broken and crying into the
Doctor's shoulder what seemed like several hours. He'd gently held
her, murmuring re-assurances into her ear until she calmed down to
some extent, not moving when she eventually fell into the sleep of the
emotionally exhausted, safe and warm, cradled in his arms. It had been
a long time ago, over sixteen years, in fact, but she could still
clearly recall every detail.

She knew every nuance of light and play of shadow, could still smell
the wine split on the table-cloth, feel the strange, desperate, hollow
feeling in her body that left her choking for breath, the overwhelming
need for some form of comfort that had sent her running into warmth
and protection of the Doctor's arms, the strange, almost haggard
expression on his face...

She wondered distantly why she hadn't seen it sooner.

"You never told me."

"It was a long time ago," he said simply.

"Not that long."

"It's been almost 24 years, Annika."

"And yet you never told me, in all of that time. I never even
suspected that you had developed... feelings for me."

He sighed and left his post in the doorway to sit down on the bed
beside her.

"You couldn't have known. I did my best to bury everything, hide it
away from you. It's not to say that I haven't *wanted* to tell you...
well, that's not always been exactly true," he allowed with the barest
hint of a self-mocking smile. "I was going to tell you on any number
of occasions - when you gave me that first enhanced tricorder, the day
after that, the week after that, the day Voyager returned to the Alpha
Quadrant, when you and John broke up, the fifth anniversary party, the
tenth anniversary party... but I always backed out at the last
instant. I could never to it, Anni. Three little words, and I could
never work up the courage to say them to you," he snorted in
self-depreciation and shook his head, "A love-sick fool too cowardly
to come forth. I imagine it's quite pathetic. Eventually, though, it
got to the point where... where I just assumed either the feelings
would fade over time or you'd work it out for yourself..." he trailed
off, looking down at his feet. "The former never happened, despite my
best efforts, might I add, and as for the latter...."

She put her arm around his shoulders, pulling him to her in an
instinctive gesture. He closed his eyes with a sigh and let his head
rest on her shoulder.

"Oh Doctor," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

There was a long silence before he murmured his reply. "As far as I'm
aware, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I disagree. It's apparent that I've unknowingly caused you a lot of
pain, insisting you help me pursue other romances."

"Sometimes, perhaps, but the key word there is 'unknowingly'.
Unknowingly, Annika. There's no way you could have known," he
repeated, straightening and turning to face her. "Besides, you never
insisted - I offered. And though you may have caused me some pain, but
you've also given me a lot of joy, probably more than you'll ever
know. It's been my privilege to be your friend, to watch you smile,
make you laugh, to dance with you, sing with you, to... to watch you
fall in love... I just wanted you to be happy," he sighed, his tone
slightly wistful. "If anything, it's I who should be sorry."

"You also have nothing to be sorry for."

"Are you so sure?"

"For loving me, for wanting me to be happy? No."

"A nice sentiment. But think about it. I've been... deceiving you for
almost a quarter of a century. I... I could have used my position as
your friend on countless occasions for my own gain... I could have
colored your view of potential suitors, played saboteur..."

"Did you?"

"Never consciously. Unconsciously, perhaps. I'll probably never know.
But there have been times where I've been tempted, tempted almost
beyond imagining..." he trailed off to continue in a much softer
voice, "As I am right now."

To her surprise, he leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss across
her lips before pulling away slightly, one hand coming up to tangle in
her hair. His eyes searched her face. Whatever he found there she
realized, wasn't what he was looking for.

He stood with a small, sad smile, his fingers lingering in a gentle
caress of her cheek. "Sleep well, Seven of Nine, and sweet dreams."

He turned and began to walk away.

Of its own accord, her hand came up to press against her lips, a
testament to the gentle, fleeting pressure she had felt there.

The Doctor paused in the doorway, hesitating as if debating his next
move. Eventually he turned around again.

"I love you." The whispered words barely had time to reach her ears
before he was gone, the door closing silently behind him as if he were
never there.

---

The End