The BLTS Archive- Someday (Never Comes)
by Dr. Jekyl (doc_jekyl@hotmail.com)

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Continuation from "Reunion"

Disclaimer: Characters owned by Paramount

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She found him on the balcony, leaning with both arms on the railing,
staring out over the ocean. Moving quietly, she came to stand beside
him, motionless and silent, waiting for some small acknowledgment of
her presence, that he knew she was there, standing next to him. None
came. In the end, she found herself following his example, staring
aimlessly out over the half-hearted rolling of the waves. The sky was
slightly over-cast, the bright orb of the sun peaking out from behind
the grey blanketing clouds, the endless muted roar of the ocean
merging seemlessly with the crescendo noise of the party behind them.
Colors flashed on the periphery of her vision - a swirling crowd of
chatting guests, smiling couples, laughing friends, children, mates,
lovers...

She sighed absently and transferred her gaze to her hands,
unconsciously tracing the Borg exoskeleton that encompassed her left,
a permanent reminder of her past. She'd retreated out here, not took
look for him - though she had half-expected to find him out here - but
to gather herself together again - it was too crowded inside, too many
people, too many voices, oppressive and threatening to drown her in
its depths. He understood it, she knew, in as much as anyone who
hadn't been Borg could understand it - he'd even provided her with a
long list of dry medical terms to describe it. In normal
circumstances, when they were at a large social function together, he
would have kept a careful eye on her, watching, waiting, until
eventually coming to her rescue with smiles and excuses, then gently
steering her away to the nearest open space. Sometimes he'd get it
wrong and end up alternatively annoying, amusing or embarrassing her,
receiving the appropriate look and lecture later. Other times however,
she'd been close to kissing him out of sheer relief. Maybe that had
been what he wanted.

She turned her head to regard him. His nervous fingers, rarely idle,
were clasped loosely together, strangely still, his face, an
impenetrably distant mask. Every now and then, the corners of his
mouth would twitch upwards, as if he was recalling something that
amused him. His eyes seemed again sad to her, lost, locked in the past
or on some unseen location. It was strange to think that he was one of
the major constants in her life, there from the moment she was
assimilated into the Voyager collective, unprejudiced, unwavering...
and yet now she wondered if things would ever be the same again, or if
she was going to spend every moment with him searching for an ulterior
motive to his actions.

"A penny for you thoughts."

It took a moment for her to realize that it was he who had spoken, or
even that anyone had even spoken at all. She cast about her for
something suitably neutral to say in response.

"Only a penny?"

He half-smiled.

"A credit then."

Silence descended again, a gaping chasm begging to be bridged, yet she
could find no words to say. Again she found her gaze returning to the
ever-changing quick-silver of the ocean. In turn, she was aware of him
finally moving, turning his head to regard her. He drew a breath, she
was sure, in a prelude to saying something when a shadow fell across
both.

"Ahh, so this is where you two love-birds have been hiding," an amused
voice drawled behind him.

The Doctor caught her eye and then rolled his heavenwards. She risked
a fleeting smile back.

"We're hardly hiding, Mr. Paris," the Doctor responded with his best
long-suffering sigh, turning to face the human, "and we're hardly
love-birds."

She flinched, unseen now, at the truth in his words, a wave of
unexplained guilt washing over her. He hadn't meant it in an accusing
manner, she knew. He probably wasn't really even aware of her
reaction.

She'd spent a long night of little sleep and much soul-searching,
searching for a reason, a sign, a glimmer of buried emotion, some
spark or flicker of long-denied desire that would indicate her
feelings towards him ran deeper than just friendship. She'd found
affection, certainly, even love for him - but it was the love of a
good friend, or even that of a brother, rather than of a potential
mate. She'd never even thought of him in that way before, had never
tried to think of him in that way before... and when, in the small
hours of the morning, she'd tried to visualize him not as a dear
friend he was, that she'd always seen him as, but as a lover, as the
being who'd share the most intimate and mundane aspects of her life...
nothing. No spark, no flicker, no sudden realization of mutual love...
nothing. A nothing, perhaps, tinged with a kind of sadness and even
guilt for what might have been, what hadn't been, what might have
happened had she seen it sooner. He'd known, she realized, in the
instant he'd kissed her for the first and probably last time, and he'd
most likely known for a long time before hand, just as she'd been
aware, in her own, unconscious way, of just how deeply his feelings
for her ran. It was just that neither had been willing to admit it to
themselves what they'd seen in each other until that moment.

The conversation behind her had continued, unheeded.

"You remember Talent Night?" she was aware of the former helmsman
asking.

"Talent Night," the Doctor groaned. "How could I forget it? Two hours
of bad music, bad acting and bad jokes, all hosted by Neelix..."

"Awe, come on, Doc. Neelix isn't that bad."

"I know he isn't," he sighed. "It's a force of habit, you understand."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," the human grinned ruefully. "It took me
a while to work up the courage to eat anything here after I found out
he'd done the catering."

"Neelix did the catering?" the Doctor replied, his tone
mock-horrified. "The crew of Voyager may have built of something of a
resistance to Neelix's cooking over the years, but I'm afraid the
results could be dire for any of the other guests. We'd better alert
the health authorities immediately."

"You haven't lost your sense of humor, have you Doc?" Paris laughed.

"One does one's best. And I won't comment on your hair."

"If you don't, you'll be the first person all day..." Tom sighed
dispondantly. "But anyway, the reason I brought Talent Night up is
because Neelix has decided it'd be fun to stage a mock one later this
evening, showcasing some of the old regulars. A little bird told me
you're next up on his hit list, so if I were you, I'd start practicing
your latest aria or whatever it is you sing these days."

The Doctor frowned slightly.

"I think I may turn down his, ah, generous offer."

"What? Voyager's own leading tenor not wanting to sing for his adoring
public? Geeze Doc, are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I'm just... not in the mood."

"Not in the mood?" Tom sighed and turned to her in mock-appeal She
smiled back but made no effort to comment. "And this from the guy who
used to drive me up the wall with his constant humming, *every* minute
of *every* day..."

"As I recall, that was a large part of the reason I did it. Annoying
the hell out of you was one of my more... fulfilling... pastimes."

"And one of your more successful, I'd say. Seriously though, Doc, I'm
hurt. All this time I thought you actually liked me."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"Tell me about it. So, what's got you down? You know if you've got
women trouble, the master is here to dispense his infinite wisdom."

"Mr. Paris, if, after some twenty-seven years of association, I still
needed your advice on how to deal with members of the opposite sex, I
think I'd de-compile myself out of shame..." he trailed of, looking
past the other man. "Isn't that your boy?"

"Michael? Where?"

"Over there.. by the buffet tables. Pouring something into the punch."

"Oh, it is too. I told him not to do that until *after* 1700 hours,"
the captain said, shaking his head. "Kids. You can't let them out of
your sight for five minutes, can you? I'll catch up more with you two
later. Doc. Annika."

The Doctor shook his head.

"Like father, like son. Almost makes me glad I don't have children."

"Mmm," she responded absently and then looked across at him. "You'd
like to have children, someday?"

"Wouldn't you?" he regarded her quizzically.

"I'm not sure... perhaps someday"

"Someday... I'd like to have children someday, yes, but not right now.
Too many other things need to happen first..." he trailed off, his
eyes flicking away momentarily. "And I'd never even consider bringing
a holographic child into the world until holo-technology has advanced
sufficiently beyond current levels - unfortunately, more mobile
emitters are still a thing of the distant future. Besides," he smiled
briefly, "there's always the risk of he or she rendering me completely
obsolete." The subsequent EMH generations had always been something of
a sore-spot with him - he was, after all, the last known
still-functioning Mark-1 in existence.

"I don't know... somehow I doubt you could ever be completely
obsolete," she soothed and then smiled mischeaviously. "De-compiled by
the next Admiral you annoy, perhaps, but never replaced."

"Thank you," he said, looking slightly surprised. "I think."

They shared a smile. Then he sighed again and shook his head slightly,
leaning back against the railing, arms folded across his chest,
regarding her with a wry look. She met his gaze from her position
beside him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I was just thinking that perhaps I should have taken Tom up on his
offer."

"His offer," she repeated.

"To lend me some advice on how to deal with women. Lately my track
record in that area hasn't been all that admirable."

"No?"

"No. First Lisa, then Cemay, then Gaylene, now you," he sighed. "Two
weeks, five weeks, one night, 23 years..." He shook his head and then,
oddly enough, began to laugh. "You know all about those. And... and
now I'm going to find myself in the rather awkward position of asking
you if we can still be friends." His tone was light but his eyes
pleaded with her.

She looked at him and solemnly shook her head. His face fell
instantly.

"I understand," he whispered, voice hoarse, head bowed, and began to
turn away, only to be halted by a hand on his shoulder. He looked back
up at her in confusion.

She smiled gently.

"I don't abandon friendships lightly, Doctor," she told him, "you know
that. Especially not friendships of over 23 years."

"But..."

"I shook my head because you felt you had to ask such a question. You
should have known better. Much better."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," she smiled. "I hope that you'll always consider me your
friend. And I think it would take much more than what happened last
night for me to stop being your friend. You've loved me for as long as
we've been friends. I don't see how you actually admitting it should
change anything... and I think I may have known for quite some time."
Her smile softened as she trailed off an took his hand. "And then, who
knows what the future holds? Perhaps one day that friendship will
become... more."

He looked down at the hand she held.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"I think you know," he replied, looking up to meet her eyes. Abruptly
his entire demeanor changed. "Come dance with me," he told her
earnestly.

Caught off guard, she cocked her head and looked at him critically.

"Why?"

"Can't you hear? They're playing our song," he grinned.

"Our song? I wasn't aware we actually *had* a song," she replied, a
smile of her own tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Of course we have a song. Really, Anni, you need to pay more
attention. Lesson 54..."

"...Memorable Moments" she supplied.

"You always were my best student. Now, come dance."

She laughed and, with a toss of her head, allowed herself to be towed
out onto the dance floor.

---
Epilogue - 5 years later
---

He like to watch her while she slept. It was a simple pleasure,
something he'd never envisioned enjoying. She captivated him - always
so relaxed, peaceful, so fragile and somehow unearthly while asleep,
such a contrast to the strong, self-possessed woman she was when
awake... she captivated him, never failed to take his breath away.

He pulled off his boots and uniform as quietly as he could, folding
them neatly and placing them on the dresser before slipping silently
into bed beside her. She stirred - no doubt she'd have some choice
words to say to him in the morning about coming home late four nights
in a row - but didn't awake, instead shifting closer to the new source
of warmth. A small sigh escaped her lips and he smiled, unseen, into
the night.

---

Light years distant, another night on another planet, a figure
silently contemplated the clear night sky, enjoying the simple beauty.

"What're you looking at?" a quiet voice asked behind him.

"Shhh... come and see for yourself."

He was aware of soft footsteps behind him and then a pair of warm arms
creeping around his waist, a cheek pressing into his bare shoulder.

"What am I looking for?"

"You'll see."

They waited another two minutes before the shower began. Though
erratic at first, the strike rate gradually increased until the night
sky was alight with radiant blue, white and purple streaks of light,
created as small pieces of rock incinerated upon entry into the
atmosphere. The natural fireworks display lasted for a quarter of an
hour before gradually tapering off until the sky was empty once more,
devoid of anything save the stars, moons and a few wisps of cloud.
They stood without sound for another few minutes, each lost in their
own thoughts.

"Wow..." she breathed in hushed tones. "That was... incredible...
spectacular. Does that happen every night?" She looked up at him.

He shook his head.

"It's a once yearly phenomenon - three or four nights early every
spring," he replied, his tones equally reverent. "We were lucky that
the conference was scheduled for this week... another day either way
and we probably would have missed it."

"Mmm... Tomorrow?"

"The last night. Tonight's was supposed to be the most spectacular."

"How come I didn't know?"

"It's not a widely publicized event for some reason - I believe it
holds a special religious significance to the people of this planet."

"I can understand that," she said and shivered against him. "Gods,
it's cold... come back to bed."

"You know I don't feel the cold."

"You might not... but I do. Besides, what would someone think if they
happened to stroll by? You can see straight in from the path down
there."

They both looked down over the railing and then at each other.

"Let them look," he said eventually.

"I never took you as the exhibitionist type," she chuckled. "At least
*I* have a bathrobe."

"True," he smiled back, "but you're not wearing it. At any rate, most
of the people here are doctors, and if they haven't seen it all
before, I'll be extremely worried."

"You're impossible."

"It's one of my best features," he declared airily.

"Impossible or not, if you don't come back to bed right now, I'll make
you attend Quomar's presentation instead of me."

"Are you blackmailing me?" he asked her with mock hurt. "Maria, how
could you."

"I'm willing to use every weapon at my disposal," she said with a
wicked grin.

"Of which you have many. A formidable arsenal indeed, if I'm any
judge."

"Of course. How else do you think I made Captain in Starfleet Medical
at a mere 35? Now, are you coming or not?"

He smiled gently.

"In a minute."

"Good," she replied, leaving him with a hug to watch the stars a few
moments longer and briefly wonder what might have been had things
worked out differently.

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The End