A/N: Oh, boy. I did not realize how long it had been since I last updated. I'm so bad at this. Here's an extra long chapter to make up for it. And uh... Yeah. This is the big one. Enjoy.

Disclaimers: See Chapter One. Also, it goes without saying that I do not own the Beatles.

Forget Me Not

Chapter Seventeen

When Jordan could finally bring herself to release her vise-like grip on the Doctor, she moved back and beckoned him inside. As he followed her into the little cottage, she removed her coat and scarf and hung them on a peg in the hall. "So how was your trip?" she asked eagerly. "What would you like to do first? How long are you staying?"

The Doctor smiled in amusement at her poorly-contained enthusiasm. "I'm not sure which question I should answer first."

Jordan ducked her head sheepishly. "Sorry," she chuckled. "I guess I'm a little over-excited." She waved an arm in the direction of the living room. "Please, make yourself at home. You're the one who booked this place, after all."

As he stepped around her, she was unable to keep herself from stealing glances at him. It was always slightly jarring to see him out of uniform, and she couldn't help but notice how his sweater accentuated his shoulders and his lean torso. What was more, when he had swept her up into his embrace, he had felt like warm, firm muscle. She was forced to admit that Reiya had been right about him; hologram or not, he was an attractive man. In fact, the urge to find out what he looked like underneath that sweater was suddenly so strong that her fingers twitched restlessly at her sides.

Feeling guilty for thinking such impure thoughts about her purely platonic friend, she forced herself to stop staring. "Can I get you anything?" she inquired. "Coffee? Tea? How about some hot cider?"

"Whatever you like."

As she moved to the replicator and requested two hot spiced apple ciders, the Doctor walked over to the large picture window, gazing out at the lake. "You looked as if you were getting ready to walk out the door," he remarked. "I hope I haven't inadvertently disrupted your plans."

"Not at all!" Jordan assured him quickly. "I was going to check out the mining museum, but I freely admit that the decision was made out of pure boredom." She joined him at the window, handing him a mug of cider. "But now that you're here, we can do whatever you want. There are all kinds of geological sights — lava fields, geysers, craters. There's this anti-grav tram that takes you to the top of the Phrygia Sulcus, which everyone says is amazing. And I haven't been to the Lights Festival yet, because... well, because I didn't feel like going by myself."

She realized she was babbling again. "What sounds good to you?"

"Actually..." The Doctor took a sip of his cider, his eyebrows climbing in surprised pleasure. "I was wondering if you were still interested in giving me a cooking lesson."

"Oh!" Jordan wasn't quite expecting that. "Yes, I'd love to! I'll have to get some more groceries, of course. I've been taking full advantage of all the fresh produce they have here. But first, why don't I show you some of the sights in Ganymede City?"

"That sounds lovely."

"Finish your cider first."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, taking another sip. "I missed your casual authoritarianism."

She nudged his shoulder with hers. "Thanks. I missed your back-handed compliments."

He laughed under his breath. As they stood side by side, looking out the window at the starkly beautiful landscape, Jordan turned her own steaming mug in her hands. It all felt a bit surreal. During all of their conversations via subspace communication, she had never been at a loss for words, but now that the Doctor was really here, she didn't quite know what to say. She wondered if he felt the same.

"By the way," he said off-hand, "I brought something which you might find helpful." He reached into the pocket of his trousers and produced a hypospray. "You mentioned that you forgot to take your melorazine with you."

Jordan could have wept in sheer gratitude. Her sleep had been especially poor during her stay on Ganymede, thanks to the extremely long daylight hours. "Oh, you brilliant man," she told him, taking the little metal cylinder from him. "Your creator named you well, Doctor Robert."

He frowned, clearly baffled. "What makes you say that?"

She shook her head dismissively. "It's from a Beatles song about a doctor who's... kind of a drug dealer. It's not important."

Mercifully, the Doctor did not inquire further. At length he finished the last of his drink and set it aside, clearing his throat. "Well!" he said briskly, rubbing his hands together. "Shall we?"

Jordan put down her own mug. "Ready when you are."

In the foyer, she reached for her coat, but the Doctor beat her to it, plucking it from the wall and holding it out for her. Thanking him, she put her arms through the sleeves and shrugged it on. Then she froze in place as she felt him slide his hands beneath the curtain of her hair and extract it from her collar, fingertips grazing the nape of her neck as he did so.

"Your hair has grown quite a bit," he observed, as if he were remarking on the weather.

Jordan swallowed, trying desperately to remember how to put words together like a functioning person. "I know, I need to get it cut," she managed to reply, a bit lamely.

He shrugged. "It's your decision, of course, but I think it's lovely the way it is."

She hid a smile as he contemplated his reflection in the hall mirror, running a hand over his smooth pate. "Maybe I should program some hair for myself," he mused.

"No!"

The word exploded from Jordan's lips before she could stop herself. The Doctor turned toward her sharply, startled by her outburst. Mortified, she attempted to explain at a more reasonable volume. "I mean... Obviously it's your head, and you can do whatever you want with it." She gave a judicious cough. "However, that being said..."

She trailed off, keenly aware that her friend was staring at her like she'd spontaneously begun speaking fluent Klingon. "Are you saying you... like me this way?" he asked, his tone halfway between flattered and skeptical.

In for a penny, Jordan thought with a sigh. She was suddenly so tired of all this pretense. "It's like I told you before, Doc," she said quietly. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

At this he looked away, evidently finding something of intense interest in the nap of the carpet. Immediately she regretted making him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," she told him, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

The Doctor shook his head minutely. "You didn't," he said, his voice oddly hoarse.

She watched as he took her scarf from its peg on the wall. With an air of solemnity that bordered on reverence, he draped it around her neck, his eyes never leaving hers.

"After you," he murmured.

Jordan felt herself swallow. With a nod, she quickly moved past him out the door, careful to hide her blushing face from him.

What in the hell was that? she thought to herself, trying to get her heart rate under control. In all the time she had known the Doctor, she was certain he had never looked at her quite like that before. It was almost as if... No. That was impossible.

Or was it? She recalled what Reiya had told her before she had left the station. Was it possible that the Doctor shared her feelings, and was equally reluctant to confess them, for fear of damaging their friendship? If only there was some way of knowing. The uncertainty was driving her mad.

Shaking her head, she waited until he had stepped through the door, then pressed her thumb to the print ID scanner, locking up the house behind them.

Together they began walking in the direction of the nearest public transporter station. Although it was mid-morning, the daylight was weak and slowly starting to fade. Soon it would be gone, replaced by the moon's eighty-five-hour-long night. Regardless, the scenery was still stunning. Past the edges of the quiet neighborhood with its Scandinavian-inspired houses, vast, rocky lava fields dotted with little lakes and forests stretched out toward rows of jagged sulci, their tops frosted with snow. And above, the aurora shifted and rippled in the sky, bathing the landscape in its eerily beautiful blue-green glow.

Jordan cleared her throat, desperate to relieve the tense, oddly pregnant silence that had settled between them. "So," she said, her voice unexpectedly loud. "I know you haven't been here long, but what do you think of Ganymede so far?"

"It's breathtaking — to borrow a phrase," he replied. "I've never seen anything quite like it. Although Arakis Prime certainly came close."

She blinked. "Arrakis?" she repeated. "As in, Arrakis, Dune, desert planet?"

He gave her an odd look. "No," he said slowly. "Another twentieth century pop-culture reference?"

"I hope that's all it is. I really don't want giant sand worms to be real."

The Doctor shook his head. "Moving on," he continued, sounding amused, "Arakis Prime was a planet in the Delta Quadrant. Its atmosphere was harmful to the rest of the crew, so I was sent to collect the data probe we sent. Beautiful planet. Bright blue glaciers." He glanced down at her. "Speaking of which, are you warm enough? That coat doesn't look like it offers much protection against the elements."

Jordan waved his concern away with a hand. "You're forgetting I'm a New Englander, born and raised. I used to walk to school and back in fifteen-degree weather."

"Uphill both ways, no doubt," the EMH added dryly.

"Wow," she dead-panned. "Of all the tired clichés to survive the centuries, why that one in particular?"

"One of history's mysteries," he said, still watching her closely. "You're shivering, Jordan."

"You're very observant, Doctor," she countered in a blithe tone.

He huffed at her, and she smiled. "Seriously, I'm fine," she assured him. "I've been here for a whole week, and I haven't reverted back to my cryogenic state yet. I hiked around a crater, for goodness's sake. I'm not the same malnourished husk you once knew and fretted over."

"No," he agreed reluctantly. Then he sighed. "You're right, of course. Clearly you're more than able to take care of yourself. I suppose I still feel a bit protective of you, that's all."

Jordan experienced a rush of fondness for the bossy hologram. "And that's sweet," she told him. "But we're on vacation. Do you think you could... suppress the mother hen subroutines for now?"

Grudgingly, a small smile touched the Doctor's lips. "I can't make any promises," he said in that voice that managed to be grumpy and warm at the same time. "But I'll do my best."

She felt another strong surge of affection for him; so strong, in fact, that she had to look away. Unfortunately, she couldn't seem to control her gaze and her mouth at the same time. "I'm really very glad you're here," she said, unable to help herself. "It was wonderful getting to talk to you every night, but a viewscreen is no substitute for the genuine article."

The Doctor halted in his tracks, obliging her to stop beside him. "You missed me that much?" he asked, sounding somewhat taken aback.

Jordan frowned. "Why are you so surprised by that?"

He arched an eyebrow as he considered the question. "I suppose it's just an inevitable side effect of being a physician," he answered at last. "Most of my friends react to my presence on their doorstep with visible dismay. You wouldn't believe how many people seem to have a life-threatening allergy to check-ups."

"Ah, so that's why you're here," she told him with a teasing smirk.

"Not at all," he said quickly.

"No, no, you can be honest with me, Doc," she went on, holding up her hand to silence his protests. "You really only came to make sure your patient is getting enough rest and exercise." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "I knew it. You're so predictable, I can't even be offended."

"Jordan."

Something in his tone made her glance up at him, and abruptly her throat went dry. He was looking at her with that same intense, unreadable emotion in his eyes. "I came because I missed you, too," he said softly. "Very much."

"Doctor." Her throat was suddenly constricted. She cleared it and tried again. "Doctor, I—"

She started slightly as she heard a surprised exclamation behind her. She turned to see a stout older woman hurrying toward them. She was walking two beautiful black Norwegian elkhounds, and it was difficult to say which of the three appeared more excited.

"Oh, dear," the Doctor muttered.

"What is it?" Jordan asked him.

"A fan, from the looks of it."

"Oh, my goodness," the woman gushed as she approached them, noticeably out of breath. "You're you. I mean, you're him. You're Voyager's Doctor." She shook her head at her own lack of coherence. "I've read all about you. You're such an impressive... being. What an honor to have you here with us on Ganymede."

In spite of her annoyance over being interrupted, Jordan was also rather tickled. This was the first time she had witnessed the Doctor being treated like the famous personage he was. Everyone on Jupiter Station, of course, was already accustomed to his presence and thought little of it. But this woman was behaving as if she had just bumped into Brad Pitt at the supermarket.

"Thank you, you're very kind," the Doctor told her graciously.

As the woman continued to chatter away about his various accomplishments, all of which he was perfectly aware, Jordan was content to give the dogs a thorough scratch behind their ears. Over the past few days, she had been missing her own little terrier. She was so preoccupied that at first she didn't realize she was being addressed.

"And you're Jordan Starling," said the woman, sounding no less star-struck than before. "I was so moved by your interview. You've overcome so much, and yet your kindness and optimism and good humor just shone through in your story. It was truly inspiring."

Jordan felt her cheeks burn at the sincere compliment. "Thanks so much," she managed to reply.

"So what brings you to our little backwater ball of iron and ice?" the woman asked.

"Just taking some much needed shore leave," said the Doctor. "This is Miss Starling's first time away from Jupiter Station since she was revived."

"Well, thank you for choosing Ganymede," she told Jordan, as if it was her duty as official ambassador to welcome all visitors. "My name is Wilhelmina. And these two," she added, gesturing to the elkhounds, "are Geri and Freki. If you need anything, I live there at the end of the street."

As she gestured toward a little chalet at the end of the road, she gave a sudden gasp. "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?" she suggested eagerly.

Oh, Lordy, thought Jordan, attempting to keep her expression pleasantly neutral. As friendly as their new acquaintance was, she was not particularly keen on sharing the Doctor with Wilhelmina during his first night on Ganymede. She knew it was selfish, but she wanted him all to herself.

Thankfully, the Doctor seemed to be of a similar mind. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid we have a prior engagement this evening," he said, his voice taking on that artificially polite tone he used on patients. "Another time, perhaps."

Wilhelmina did not seem in the least offended. "Well, you know where to find me," she said easily. "It was wonderful to meet you both. Have a lovely day!"

They said their goodbyes, and the woman and her dogs continued on their way. As they watched her figure recede, the Doctor sighed. "I have a sneaking suspicion that that might happen fairly often while we're here. We're both celebrities now, thanks to Alicia de Witt."

"'I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety,'" Jordan quoted wistfully, shaking her head. "Let's get the hell out of here before someone else recognizes us."

As they resumed walking, a thought caused a mischievous smirk to cross her lips. "You should have told her you were moving here," she said. "She would have had a heart attack."

The hologram stopped again. With a glance of mock disapproval, he folded his arms over his chest, unknowingly drawing Jordan's gaze toward his biceps. "I am a doctor," he told her with dignity. "I'm not in the habit of giving people heart attacks."

Jordan snorted. "Then you probably shouldn't wear that sweater," she mumbled under her breath.

His arms fell to his sides. "What?"

"Come on, Doc, we're wasting precious daylight."

The Doctor was mystified. At first, as he accompanied Jordan on her grocery run, he attempted to guess what she was planning to make for dinner. But as he watched her select ingredient after apparently disparate ingredient — scallops, condensed milk, arborio rice, dark chocolate, white wine, mushrooms, lemons — he eventually gave it up. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to her choices. And as a photonic being, he did not know enough about cuisine to begin to speculate.

However, he was not worried. She obviously knew exactly what she was doing, and she also knew him well enough to prepare something he would like. He trusted her implicitly. For now, he was simply enjoying the opportunity to watch her.

"Excuse me," she said to the Betazoid cheesemonger behind the deli counter, while the Doctor looked on with interest. "Do you have gruyère? Or at least, a close approximation of it?"

"We don't have gruyère," the man replied. "However, we do have a young cheese from Andor that is quite similar. It has a very creamy texture, and a sweet, nutty taste that isn't overpowering."

"Could it be used in French cuisine?" she asked. "Like, for instance, in a chicken cordon bleu or a croque-monsieur?"

"Oh, yes. It's an excellent melting cheese. It also pairs very well with white wines, like rieslings."

"That sounds perfect. I'll take it."

The Betazoid wrapped a hunk of cheese and handed it across the counter to Jordan. She thanked him and placed it in her basket with the rest of her groceries.

"All right," said the Doctor as they left the shop, "I'm officially stumped. What are we making?"

"You mean you can't tell from this completely random assortment?" She smiled. "We're making coquilles Saint-Jacques. That's poached scallops over mushroom and fennel risotto with a gruyère cream sauce. Or at least the Andorian equivalent to gruyère," she added. "I don't want to alarm you, but it's so good, you might cry."

"I'll take your word for it," he said, chuckling.

On the way home, they encountered a couple more people who recognized the Doctor and were obliged to talk to them. Jordan seemed more entertained by it than anything else. As well as entirely unsympathetic; before he had arrived, she had been recognized a few times herself. Now, she proclaimed, it was his turn to be harassed.

He really had missed her terribly. When he had surprised her at the front door of the cottage, and she had responded by throwing herself into his arms, his program could hardly process the sensory and cognitive input. She had felt so warm, so perfect, pressed against him like that. And her obvious pleasure at seeing him, as well as the kiss she had bestowed on his cheek, had filled him with hope. The possibility of her reciprocating his feelings, at least to some degree, no longer appeared quite as remote as he'd assumed. It was just a matter of finding the right moment to tell her.

Unfortunately, the right moment had often eluded him in the past.

They arrived at the little house, and while Jordan removed her coat and scarf, the Doctor set the groceries on the kitchen counter. "Where do we begin?"

"Where all cuisine begins: with chopping," she said as she came to join him. "Grab a knife and a cutting board."

It took him an embarrassingly long time to locate the objects in question. When he had lived with Mareeza, he had known his way around their kitchen and had at least a rudimentary understanding of cooking, but it had never been his strong suit. Lacking a sense of taste, he had struggled with deciding which flavors went well together and which didn't. In the end, at Mareeza's insistence, he had left the food preparation in her far more competent hands.

On the plus side, even if cuisine was not one of his strengths, precision certainly was. After taking a shallot and demonstrating the proper way to slice it, Jordan let him take over, and he proceeded to cut it into perfectly even-sized pieces.

"How's this?" he asked.

Jordan nodded, impressed. "Very nice work, Doc," she told him, patting his shoulder warmly. "Very uniform."

The Doctor wasn't sure whether it was her praise or her touch that caused his holomatrix to hum with pleasure, and at this point he was beyond caring. All he knew was that no one had ever made him feel like this.

As they prepared the meal, Jordan gave him comprehensive instructions, explaining at every step the reasons for everything they did and how the flavors complimented each other. She was an excellent teacher: patient, encouraging, enthusiastic. It was clear that she was in her element. In a bizarre way, the Doctor was almost reminded of Neelix. They were both at their most relaxed, comfortable, and confident when they were in the kitchen. Of course, Jordan was much less irritating... and a good deal easier on the eyes.

The sudden reminder of Neelix made him wistful. Though the Talaxian had gotten on his nerves often, he was one of the kindest, most compassionate people the Doctor had ever known. He was certain Jordan would have adored him, and he her. Perhaps it was time to request the use of the Midas Array and arrange an introduction between the two chefs.

While he stirred the white wine sauce, Jordan gradually added the cream. As she did so, she began to sing a rather nonsensical little song in her smoky contralto:

"Picture yourself in a boat on a river
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes..."

"Let me guess," said the Doctor. "The Beatles again?"

She chuckled. "You know me so well."

He listened for a moment as she continued to hum under her breath. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"There have been countless musicians throughout Earth's history, many of whom have been extremely talented. Why the Beatles? Why do they mean so much to you?"

Jordan appeared thoughtful. "Well, one reason I can think of," she said slowly, "is that they were the only thing that my whole family had in common. We were all so different. Dad was a giant goofball. Mom was more strait-laced; kind, but very reserved and no-nonsense. Sarah was the rebel who was always causing trouble. And I was the quiet nerd who just wanted to be left alone with my cookbooks and my Easy Bake Oven."

She shrugged. "And yet we all loved the Beatles. All of us. Hardly a day went by when at least one of us couldn't be heard singing or listening to one of their songs. And when we went on road trips, we'd all sing along to their albums at the top of our lungs. It was..." She paused, and smiled. "It was just part of being a Starling."

The Doctor was touched by her story. "So it's mostly nostalgia, then?" he asked.

"That's certainly part of it," she agreed. "But they were also just a genuinely great band. I know you're not a big fan of rock and roll, but that's not all they played. Their repertoire was incredibly diverse. They covered rock, reggae, ska, blues, country, folk. They wrote love songs, ballads, experimental music. There is literally a Beatles song for every conceivable mood you might have."

He raised an eyebrow, sensing a challenge in her words. "Is that so?" he retorted.

"Yes, it is," she replied matter-of-factly. "For instance, what are you feeling at this precise moment?"

The Doctor gazed down at her. Her dark, subtly iridescent hair was still tousled and tangled from their outing, and had fallen into her flushed face. Her ridiculously large gray eyes were sparkling with mischief, and she was sporting an enormous grin to match. She appeared as if she had just stepped out of a wind tunnel. And she had never looked more radiant.

"Happy," he said softly.

Her smile softened. "Computer," she said to the air, "play 'Here Comes the Sun' by the Beatles." She tapped the back of his hand with her finger. "And you, keep stirring."

As the first sweet, mellow opening notes from an acoustic guitar filled the little kitchen, the Doctor obediently tended to the sauce, feeling an absurd warmth begin to seep into his program. He was forced to concede that Jordan was right; the song matched his mood perfectly.

He stole another glance at her as she proceeded to shred the cheese she had purchased at the market, wondering when and how he should broach the subject of his growing feelings for her. He couldn't put it off forever, and he didn't want to. He just hoped he wasn't making a horrible mistake. There was no going back from this.

More than anything, he wanted to kiss her. He had imagined doing so on numerous occasions, and in a variety of circumstances. But no; silly fantasies aside, he would never kiss Jordan, or any woman, without permission. He had been kissed more than once without his consent, and it was not an experience he would wish on anyone.

He swallowed, cursing Lewis Zimmerman for creating him with the capacity to be nervous. "After dinner, perhaps we could go for a walk by the lake," he suggested, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Sounds perfect," said Jordan.

As she brought a spoon to her lips, it occurred to the Doctor that he had never kissed a woman while in possession of a set of fully functioning taste buds before. He couldn't help wondering what she might taste like.

"Want a try?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he blurted without thinking.

She offered the spoon to him. Belatedly, he realized what she said. "What? Oh. Yes."

This was going to go well.

The darkened movie theater was even more crowded than usual tonight. It was odd; for such a profoundly unscientific movie, it was a favorite among the residents of Jupiter Station. The holodeck had filled up immediately, and there were even a few people standing in the back.

Harry Kim was a fan himself. When he had learned which film had been selected for movie night this week, he had wasted no time in inviting Reiya to join him. He had claimed it was an important piece of Earth's history, and the quintessential representation of twentieth century entertainment. Jordan Starling herself had once proclaimed it one of her favorite films of all time. Reiya agreed to come along, but he had the feeling she had only been humoring him. All of that changed when the movie started.

From the first scene, in which the main character braved numerous dangers to acquire a rare artifact, only to have it stolen by a rival archaeologist, Reiya had been sitting slightly forward in her seat, her eyes glued to the screen. At every twist and turn of the plot, she gasped or lifted a hand to her mouth. At one point, when it appeared that the film's heroine had been killed, she had reached out for no reason and slapped Kim's arm, as if he had been personally responsible for the deed.

For his part, Kim was having the time of his life. As entertaining as the movie was, he was deriving even more enjoyment from observing Reiya's reactions. She was completely immersed in the story and its characters. She was, in a word, adorable.

On the screen, the two main characters were in the cabin of an old steamer ship. The heroine was trying to tend to the hero's wounds, but he was complaining and being an overgrown child about it. "Well, goddamn it, Indy," the heroine said in frustration, "where doesn't it hurt?"

The hero responded by petulantly pointing to his elbow. "Here."

A ripple of laughter went through the audience. The heroine pressed a kiss to the uninjured body part, and he then pointed to his forehead, which she also kissed. Eventually, he touched his lips, and they began to kiss... and then he promptly fell asleep.

The audience laughed again, and Kim glanced over at Reiya. To his surprise, she didn't seem to be paying very close attention. Her eyes were still on the screen, but her gaze was far away, and there was a strange smile on her face.

He leaned toward her. "What's up?" he whispered.

For a few seconds, she didn't answer. And then she whispered back, "Do you think Jordan and the Doctor have kissed yet?"

Kim stared at her in disbelief. "What is wrong with you? I was having a great time until you said that."

"Oh, please," Reiya scoffed. "Don't sit there and pretend you haven't been wondering what they're doing."

"I've been expressly trying not to, thank you very much," he muttered.

"You lie, Harrison Kim," she hissed at him. "The Doctor is one of your best friends. I know you want to see him happy."

"Well, yeah, sure I do," he argued in a defensive tone. "That doesn't mean that I think about his love life. That kind of stuff is private, personal."

Reiya rolled her eyes. "You humans are so... What's the word you use? Prudish," she declared. "When Bolians begin a romantic relationship, they tell their friends and family every detail."

"So I suppose your relatives know all about me?" Kim asked dryly.

"Of course," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I've told them everything. Even about that funny-shaped birthmark on your—"

"Reiya!" he exclaimed, scandalized. Then he winced apologetically as several people in the audience shushed him.

Reiya, for her part, was unfazed by his discomfort. "I'll bet they've kissed," she mused to herself. "I'd even be willing to bet that by the time they get back to the station, they'll have done a lot more than kiss."

Kim sighed, partly in exasperation and partly in amusement. "You really need a hobby," he told her frankly.

"I have one. Obviously."

He shook his head. "How the hell would you even be able to tell if they had... you know?"

"I can always tell," she said smugly. "And if not, I can get it out of Jordan." She shot him a smirk. "Well?"

Kim met her challenging gaze, and smirked right back at her. "All right," he agreed. "I'll take that bet. If you're wrong, you have to stop telling your family about my birthmarks. Among other things."

"And if I'm right," she countered, "you have to come with me to Bolarus to meet them in person."

He frowned. "Well, that's not much of a wager. I would have done that anyway."

Reiya's smirk transformed into a full-fledged smile. "Really?"

In answer, Kim leaned in closer and kissed her softly.

"We'll just have to think of something else, then," she whispered with a grin.

"You're on," he whispered back.

The Doctor sat back with a sigh of deep satisfaction. "Oh, my," he nearly groaned. "That... That was amazing."

"Not bad, right?" said Jordan.

"That's one way to put it," he murmured, his eyes slipping shut. "I must say, Jordan, your gift is undeniable."

She felt herself blush. She wished he would stop looking so damn... sated. "Thank you," she replied modestly. "I'm very glad you enjoyed it. Although I wasn't the only participant."

"My contribution was minimal," he said, chuckling. He gestured at the empty plate in front of him. "Where did you learn to make this?"

Jordan was still polishing off her portion, after trying to make it last as long as possible. "I first had it at a little French restaurant in London over spring break, while I was in culinary school," she told him as she scooped up the remaining bits of creamy risotto with her spoon. "I decided I could not rest until I had duplicated it successfully."

The Doctor shook his head. "I once thought, rather foolishly, that New York cheesecake was the best thing I'd ever tasted, until I had your blueberry and goat's cheese crostini. It would appear I was wrong again." He graced her with an affectionate smile. "I'm honored that you chose to share it with me."

Touched by his sincerity, Jordan reached across the table and patted his hand. "Of course, Doc," she said kindly. "Are you ready for dessert?"

While the risotto was cooking, he had helped her make a Portuguese lemon chocolate mousse, which by now was sufficiently set and chilled. She stood up and began to clear away the dishes, but the Doctor stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Perhaps later," he said, rising to his feet. "Why don't we go for that walk now?"

"Oh." She had almost forgotten. "All right."

They put the dishes in the sink, and Jordan retrieved her coat and scarf from the hall. Slipping out the back door, they headed down to the lake together.

As they walked, Jordan gazed out over the vast, alien landscape. The moon was gradually entering into its second night since she had arrived, and would last roughly three and a half Earth days. The twilight had finally faded, and the auroroa reflected off the mirrored surface of the lake and the jutting volcanic rock formations which surrounded it. Between the ribbons of blue, green, and purple, the stars shone out brightly.

Before long they reached the narrow gravel path which circumnavigated the lake. They met very few people on their walk, which was just fine with Jordan. They spoke very little, each simply content in the other's company.

At length the Doctor suggested they stop to rest on one of the benches that were placed periodically along the path. Although of course he had no need to rest, Jordan was nevertheless grateful for the opportunity to sit down. There was just enough room for the both of them.

As she blew on her hands to imbue a little warmth into them, he cleared his throat. "I don't wish to come across as overprotective again," he said haltingly, "but my holomatrix does generate a slight heat signature. It's not much, but it should help keep you warm. I feel I should at least make the offer."

Jordan stared at him blankly for a moment before she realized exactly what he was offering. "...Sure," she said slowly, feeling her heart begin to race in her chest. "Thank you."

Shifting closer, the Doctor wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently toward him, until their thighs were pressed together and her back was partly against his chest. As he moved his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to warm her, she fought a sudden, giddy urge to laugh. This was exactly what she had been wanting for at least a month — probably longer, if she was being honest with herself — and he didn't have the first idea. For him, this was just another aspect of his medical programming. He was merely preventing hypothermia in one of his patients.

While she quietly struggled to appear calm and unaffected, he looked out over the lake. "This really is a beautiful place," he remarked, as casually as if he were observing a particularly interesting colony of bacteria. "I don't know why I've never been here before."

Despite her nerves, Jordan smiled. "I know why," she said wryly. "You would have been mobbed by adoring fans everywhere you went."

The hologram chuckled under his breath. "You seem to have your share of admirers as well," he pointed out.

His words made her recall what their current neighbor with the elkhounds had told her. "I can't believe that woman called me 'inspiring'," she said, shaking her head. "All I did was wake up in the future and somehow manage not to lose my mind. I wouldn't call that inspiring."

She felt the Doctor's gaze on her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to turn toward him. He was so very close, and she didn't trust herself not to do something incredibly stupid. "Give yourself some credit," he told her quietly. "You are positively flourishing on Jupiter Station."

Jordan snorted. "Thanks to you," she muttered, her cheeks burning yet again.

"No," he said seriously. "Not thanks to me."

Gathering her courage, she turned to face him, and her breath caught in her throat. Even in the failing light, his brown eyes were warm and earnest. "I'm not the one who suggested that you volunteer to work in the galley," he went on, his voice soft, "or play tennis with Harry, or take history classes to catch up on everything you missed. I never pushed you to do any of those things. That was pure Jordan Starling. You've embraced your new life and made it your own, and I couldn't be more proud of you."

She swallowed as he leaned in closer. "In fact," he added in a low voice, "I've been meaning to tell you..."

Abruptly he trailed off, and his eyebrows drew together. He examined her more closely with his trained physician's eye. "Jordan?" he asked, sounding alarmed. "Are you feeling ill?"

Jordan blinked, confused by his sudden change of subject. "What?"

"Your cheeks are flushed."

She closed her eyes, torn between laughing and crying. Of course he would notice that. Stupid, observant hologram. Would she ever catch a break? "It's not... It's just the cold," she stammered weakly. "I'm fine, Doc. Really."

"No, you're not," he insisted, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. "You're burning up, your pulse is soaring, your respiratory rate is accelerated—"

"Well, hello again!"

Jordan nearly leapt out of her seat at the sound of Wilhelmina's voice. She looked up to see the older woman coming toward them with her dogs, out for an evening walk. In a way, Jordan was grateful for the interruption. She had no idea what she would have done if the Doctor had been allowed to pursue his line of inquiry.

"Taking advantage of the last bit of daylight?" she asked cheerily.

The Doctor, on the other hand, appeared flustered. "Yes, we are," he replied stiffly. Jordan couldn't help but notice he had removed his arm from her shoulder.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" Wilhelmina observed. "If you don't mind the cold, that is. What am I saying, of course you don't." She chuckled at her own remark, while the dogs lay down in the middle of the path, as if preparing themselves for a long wait. "Have you been to the Lights Festival yet?"

"No, not yet," said Jordan, managing a smile.

"Well, then, you have to go," the woman told her. "It's wonderful. So many things to see and do. And as a chef, I'm sure you would appreciate the variety of foods there." She seemed to notice their proximity for the first time. "Oh, dear. Did I interrupt something? I didn't know you two were... together."

Jordan's mouth fell open, but she could not persuade any words to come out. If she could have become invisible or expired on the spot, she would have gladly done so. She looked over at the Doctor, but his reply was firm and immediate, allowing no room for misunderstanding:

"We're just friends."

Jordan was finding it difficult to breathe. She felt like a massive weight was sitting on her chest. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she pressed her fist to her ribcage and forced herself to draw slow, even breaths. Her eyes were stinging with tears, but she refused to allow them to fall.

How could those three words affect her so strongly? she wondered. Perhaps because they were so final. Until this moment, she had been entertaining a tiny spark of hope, but she could no longer go on deluding herself. She had been wrong about everything, had misread every signal. There was nothing there on his part. The spark had gone out. Hope was dead.

"As a matter of fact," the Doctor continued, unaware of her silent agony, "my friend and I are in the middle of a very important conversation. I don't wish to be rude, but I hope you don't mind if—"

"No, no, not at all!" Wilhelmina said quickly. "I should be getting home anyway." She gave a little tug on the dogs' leashes, and they sprang to their feet. "Enjoy your night!"

"And you, as well," he told her, before turning back to Jordan. "Now, as I was saying earlier—"

Jordan stood up abruptly. "Actually, it's getting a bit too cold out here for me," she said, her throat uncomfortably tight. "I think I'd like to go back to the house."

Without waiting for him, she set off down the path, leaving him with no choice but to follow. As they walked, she maintained a steady lead on him, to prevent him from seeing her tears.

The Doctor would have gladly given every nonessential subroutine in his program to know what was wrong with Jordan. She had seemed happy in his company all day. The way she had chatted and joked with him while preparing dinner had encouraged him to be bolder, more obvious in his own affections. And his overtures hadn't seemed unwelcome; on the contrary, he could have sworn that more than once she had been flirting with him. He had been so close to telling her how he felt. But now...

Now she was distant, cold. She had returned to the cottage at such a fast pace that she could have almost outrun a targ. She had served dessert in silence, and was now sitting beside him on the sofa, staring into space, her face completely devoid of expression. He had the distinct impression that he had done something terribly wrong. But what?

He had noticed that her mood had taken a sharp decline right after that woman, Wilhelmina, had showed up. Perhaps she was annoyed by his celebrity status. They had been accosted several times already by people wishing to meet him, and there was no doubt that such encounters would continue to occur on a regular basis, for as long as he remained on Ganymede. Jordan hadn't seemed irritated earlier, but she could have simply been being polite for his sake.

He stared down at the bowl of smooth, creamy, layered dessert in his hands. He realized belatedly that he had eaten half of it, and had barely tasted it.

"Maybe I should go back to Jupiter Station," he said, his voice loud in the silence.

Jordan frowned at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? You haven't even been here a full day!"

She did not sound pleased at the prospect of his leaving. That, at least, was a comfort. "I can't help feeling as though I've upset you in some way," he said in a low voice, looking down at his lap. "I thought it might be all the attention I've been receiving. I know it can be... trying."

"Oh, Doc." She sighed, almost to herself. "That doesn't bother me. And besides, you can't help being famous, any more than I can help being the niece of a megalomaniac."

"Then I must have said something," he persisted, "done something—"

She shook her head. "You didn't do anything," she murmured. "It's my problem, not yours. I'll get over it."

The Doctor was dismayed by the obvious pain in her expression and her voice. "Jordan..."

"I mean it," she told him firmly. "Don't worry about me."

He watched miserably as she rose to her feet. "I'm tired. If it's all right with you, I think I'll turn in early. Good night, Doctor."

The hologram stood, expecting her to hug him, and was surprised and saddened when she didn't. Silently, like a wraith, she put her dish away and drifted out of the room.

Slowly, the Doctor walked over to the window, staring out at the night sky without really seeing it. He wondered how everything could have gone so disastrously wrong, and what he could possibly do to fix things. He had been so close, damn it! If that nosy woman with her dogs hadn't interrupted, he would have told Jordan everything. Once again, he had missed his moment. It was the story of his life.

Reluctantly, he reviewed his memory files of that entire conversation in his mind, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when Jordan's demeanor had changed. He had noticed while speaking to her that she seemed unwell, although she had insisted she was fine. But she hadn't been fine. Her face had been flushed, her internal temperature had been higher than normal, her pulse had been elevated, and her breathing—

He nearly dropped his dessert.

Oh.

Those were not the signs of a sudden illness.

He continued to replay his memory files, not quite willing to believe what common sense was telling him. Wilhelmina had arrived after that, inquired about the Lights Festival. And then she had said:

Did I interrupt something? I didn't know you two were together.

And, flustered and panicking, he had replied...

We're just friends.

He passed a hand across his face. Idiot.

That was when Jordan had closed herself off. Not because she was annoyed by the attention he had been receiving all day. Not because Wilhelmina had interrupted them. Because she had been waiting, hoping that he would confess to having romantic feelings for her, and he had flatly denied even the possibility, to a complete stranger, no less.

He had lied. It was time to tell the truth.

Setting down his dessert, the Doctor strode swiftly down the hall to Jordan's room. Taking a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, he knocked lightly on her door. "Jordan?" he called quietly.

There was a silence, and then he heard her clear her throat. "Yes?"

Unconsciously, his fists clenched at his sides. "May I talk to you?"

After another, longer silence, the door slid open, and his simulated breath hitched. Jordan stood in the doorway, barefoot, dressed in her short, light blue nightgown. Her face was clean, her makeup removed. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, as if she had been crying. She looked so forlorn, so lost.

"What is it?" she asked guardedly.

Every bit of the speech the Doctor had prepared swiftly vanished from his mind. Strangely, it did not seem to matter. All that mattered was that Jordan was in distress, and it was all because of him.

Without a word, he stepped forward and drew her into his arms, holding her close. At first she was stiff, unsure, like a frightened animal. And then slowly, her arms slid around him, until her hands came to rest on his back. As his own hand reached up and began stroking her hair, he felt her shiver against him.

"I'm getting a lot of mixed signals from you," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

The Doctor tightened his hold on her. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I've been a coward, Jordan. I know we agreed to keep our relationship platonic, and I've been trying so hard to adhere to that agreement." He drew back, just enough to look down into her startled face. "But the truth is, I think I started falling for you the moment I met you."

Her eyes grew impossibly wide. "But..." Her lip began to quiver. "But you said..."

"I know what I said, and I was wrong. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but I realized that there is no 'right moment'. This is the moment."

With steady fingers, he reached up and gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Jordan... I don't know what I was expecting when I brought you out of cryostasis, but I certainly wasn't expecting to grow so fond of you. And I had no idea what a lovely, caring, intelligent, delightful person you would turn out to be. You have brought me so much joy. All my life, I've been trying to be better, to be more, but you make me feel like... like I'm enough."

He shook his head, disgusted with himself. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I hesitated to do so, not just because your last relationship caused you so much pain, and not just because you're my friend, but because you're my patient. I didn't — I don't — want to be seen as taking advantage of you in any way. I don't think I could live with myself." His voice had dropped to a near-whisper. "But I can't hide it from you any longer, either. I just... needed you to know."

Jordan said nothing. She continued to stare up at him with those enormous gray eyes. For a moment, the Doctor was terrified that he had made a mistake, that he had interpreted the entire situation incorrectly. What would he do, if she rejected him? How would he possibly recover, without deleting every last memory of this moment?

"Jordan?" he said uncertainly.

Slipping a hand behind his neck, she pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him lightly, tentatively. His eyes shut involuntarily at the sensation of her lips against his. It was almost more than his tactile response sensors could handle. Sliding his arms around her waist, he kissed her back, reciprocating the light pressure, lost in her warmth, her softness.

After a long moment, she pulled back and buried her face in the front of his sweater.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she breathed shakily.

"Really?" he asked softly.

Jordan craned her neck to look up at him. "Doc, I'm... I'm crazy about you," she confessed, reaching up and trailing her fingers down the side of his face. "I have been for a while now, but this last week... talking to you every night, sometimes for hours... I've never had that with anyone before." She swallowed. "That's why I reacted the way I did when you told that woman we were just friends. It was like a punch in the stomach."

His hand moved to her hair again. "I'm sorry. I was going to tell you everything when we were down at the lake, and then she interrupted and I just... panicked."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she murmured. "Kiss me?"

The Doctor was more than willing to oblige her. Grasping her chin in his fingers, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed in response and moved her hands to his shoulders, causing his holomatrix to buzz with pure happiness. Tilting his head slightly, he deepened the kiss, gently coaxing her mouth open and tasting her for the first time. His sensory subroutines nearly experienced an overload. He continued to explore her mouth greedily, wanting more. A soft moan escaped her, and her hands slid down his chest, her fingers clutching at the fabric.

After some time had passed — for once, he wasn't sure exactly how much — they simply held each other, while Jordan caught her breath.

"You know what this means, don't you?" she asked eventually, her nose brushing the skin of his neck.

"Tell me," he mumbled into her hair.

"Now we have to go on a double date with Harry and Reiya."

The Doctor smiled. "Perhaps we should go on a date on our own first," he suggested, arching an eyebrow. "Say, tomorrow night?"

She looked up at him and grinned. "I'd love to."

Unable to help himself, he kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly, until she was a flushed, panting, glorious mess. He could hardly believe this was not one of his daydreams, that it was actually real.

"Damn," Jordan said breathlessly against his lips. "Or we could just... keep doing this forever."

The Doctor fully endorsed her plan.