Star Trek Voyager: The Engagement

A/n: This story is set in the unaltered “Endgame” timeline. Voyager has been in the Delta Quadrant for eight and a half years at this point.

The Doctor sighed irritably as he watched Seven complete the repairs to his holo-emitter, damaged during a particularly rocky trip through a tachyon radiation storm that morning, and tapped her hard on the shoulder when she didn’t take the hint and turn to look at him. Seven flicked her eyes distractedly over her shoulder at him, a questioning frown on her face. “Yes Doctor?”

“Are you finished yet? I have duties to attend to!”

Seven sighed in response before using her sonic screwdriver to connect the last circuit within the silver casing and handing over into his impatient hand, waiting for him to transfer his programme over before speaking again, “Do you require my assistance any further Doctor?” She asked politely, though she privately hoped not as Chakotay had firmly impressed on her the importance of tonight’s date and her internal clock said that if she left now she’d have a full hour to prepare…

She was pulled from these anticipatory thoughts by the Doctor’s voice. “Seven? Did you hear what I said?”

She flushed slightly, really she shouldn’t allow thoughts of her relationship with Chakotay to distract her to such a great extent, it wasn’t as if she even had the excuse of it being a new development anymore, since it was now a long standing circumstance of eighteen months, two weeks, three days and five hours. “I apologise Doctor, please repeat your request.”

“I said that the replicator is playing up a bit and B’Elanna hasn’t sent anyone yet…” He muttered petulantly as if he’d been purposely ignored.

A small wry smile crossed Seven’s features as she picked up her toolkit and headed to the replicator, there had been a time when she had taken everything the Doctor said about the other crewmembers very seriously, but that time was long gone and she felt the need to defend the chief of Engineering, “The ship has been badly damaged, B’Elanna must prioritise.” She glanced at him teasingly, “Like when you exercise triage measures I suppose.”

The Doctor shrugged shamefacedly, caught out. “Well, if you put it like that…” He began but stopped as he saw her already rising from her kneeling position by the replicator. “Is it fixed already?” he asked in astonishment.

“The databanks were wrongly configured, I have corrected the error.” She told him, sighing tiredly and smoothing out the crumpled trousers of her Starfleet uniform.

“Oh…” The Doctor replied, his voice inflected with embarrassment as he watched her start to leave, impulsively grasping her arm to prolong their conversation. “I heard the holodecks are fixed. I found a new version of Verdi’s Rigoletto on file, why don’t we go and have a listen?”

“I’m busy tonight Doctor.” Seven replied quickly before feeling guilt seep into her as his face visibly fell, she really hadn’t spent much time with him lately, or at least not as much as he seemed to require. “In a few days time perhaps? Or why not ask someone else to accompany you? Chakotay told me recently that one of his old Maquis comrades, Crewman Bowden, enjoys opera . Perhaps he would be enriching company for you?”

The Doctor stiffened at her kindly, but still definite, brush off. “I’d rather not.” She nodded, disappointed at not being able to offer relief of his loneliness, but happy to leave. As he helpfully handed over her toolbox, she became aware of his eyes scanning her with disapproval. “So you’re not having any trouble with your uniform I see? It’ll never be as kind on your implants as your biosuits were…”

“It was time for a change.” Seven replied stoically, not wanting to be drawn into this argument again.

“I suppose…” He muttered reluctantly but was unwilling to let the matter drop completely, “Couldn’t you have been given a higher rank than Crewman? I’d think you deserved a lieutenancy at the very least…”