Story Timeline: Roughly a year after the events of Homestead; because I'm thoroughly tired of the Borg,Voyager as taken its happy little self on a a route where they have not been in any contact with them for roughly six months. At around the time of Endgame (Stardate: 54973.4) they did have an encounter (in the loosest of senses), and plotted a course that was (sadly) three years out of their way. It's the journey, after all, that matters (thank you, Harry Kim).

Notes of Interest: Unconventional pairing, AU after Renaissance Man, Chakotay and Seven do go about having their own relationship (the details will not, however, be written too thoroughly in here).

Disclaimer: If I owned the series, Kathryn Janeway would have never become a crone.

Does it Hurt, Dear Pinocchio?

(or, Doctor Deux)

The Doctor didn't think that drinking holographic coffee in a holographic representation of Tuscany was moot in its point.

An organic might, should they look at the scenario through a skeptic's eye, for coffee was a substance that (although carrying the nutritional value of nearly nothing) was consumed for the benefit of its caffeine and taste. He could not taste, nor could holographic coffee simulate one on the chance that he could, but he had long ago come to the conclusion that it was always the company, not the beverage, that gave this experience its worth.

(Although, something told him that even a skeptic like Kathryn Janeway, especially Kathryn Janeway, would drink a cup of holographic coffee if it came down to it).

They were seated inside a hole-in-the-wall. Or, that was the 21st century term Paris used to described Café d'Etoile, an establishment that was set rather quaintly on the port-side of Livorno, Italy. It was one of many little cafés in a program that had grown to be as popular as Fair Haven but longer lasting, as it was free of technological glitches that plagued the old program. Monsieurs Paris and Kim had spent the better part of the last year of relative uninteresting space adding to the Tuscany program until it, too, became a ship-wide favorite.

The Captain, or Kathryn – as she continued to maintain that their ranks remained at the door (a concept that had felt extraordinarily novel to the Doctor, espcially since his name was his rank) – was wearing a cardigan on a summer's day. He could only assume that she had tinkered with the temperature settings while he had been ordering their coffee, as not even a woman with her caliber of stubbornness could survive an Italian summer in a sweater.

She was brooding – more than she had been in the last twelve months – so much so that the Doctor was willing to part ways with his own activity rations in order to add a sliver of glorified sugar to her dish. He did so knowing that the gesture, though small, would bring an attempted smile to her face.

She always tried to be happy, when she thought it counted.

"Lemon meringue for your thoughts?" he set the plate and her coffee on the small table and took his seat.

The Doctor didn't need to see her quirked brow to know she knew that the café, before he had ordered, had not carried the dessert anywhere on their menu.

When Janeway didn't speak, his own eyebrows arched very highly in understanding, "Or should I say, 'Leola Root Stew' for your thoughts. It's a year tomorrow, if I recall…"

She nodded, more miserably than he knew she usually allowed herself in front of any of her crew (rank at the door or not), and gave a soft sigh, "It was hard to believe when he first appeared on the bridge view screen, in that garbage scow, that he would become such an integral member of our crew – no," she corrected herself, wry smile in place, hand up and tone low "our family."

"I'm not sure Neelix would take well to being told he lived the life of a junkyard dog before Voyager," his tone was haughty, but had the desired effect…

Sitting straighter in her chair, Kathryn jutted her chin out in the way that could only mean 'stubborn', "About as well as the Maquis would have taken to being called terrorists…"

The joke was well met, and they shared a soft chuckle before falling into companionable silence.

Their coffee dates had had no routine in the beginning. Their first had been held in one of the Captain's private holo-programs, a small square in Buenos Aires, and while he had enjoyed the hour in her company, it had been their only for nearly too and a half months. Despite of this, however, it had been enough to prove that Kathryn's promise to make an effort had been a sincere. One coffee had turned into two at his insistence and then into three at hers.

It had been awkward – as most things tend to be at their beginning – and both were acutely aware that their willingness to spend more time together was done so not because of complimentary personalities but because of loneliness. Yes, it had lasted at those feeble stages because Seven no longer needed his assistance in personal matters; the Doctor would not be surprised if the Captain allowed it to last because Chakotay was now the leading cause of Seven's personal maturing.

But this was not a patch for personal wounds, and neither pretended it was. Patches were for holes that could not be mended on their own – forced and uncomfortable and ineffective. No, it was a friendship, and as it grew with time, it was one that he had begun to hold very dear.

(Besides, he could monitor her health better than he had ever been able to do previously now that they met once every other week).

To give himself something to do as they sat quietly for several more minutes, the Doctor took a sip of his holographic coffee and tasted nothing. His programming register the physiological reactions necessary in a swallow, and he contemplated what it might feel like to taste the beverage.

"We've managed to stabilize our communication with settlement after the last ion storm. Couldn't we could ask Seven to establish a solid link tomorrow? The crew will, no doubt, be happy to say hello to their favorite Talaxian. I know one in particular…"

Naomi came to mind.

To the Captain's mind as well, and she flashed him a genuine grin full of teeth "That's a wonderful idea, Doctor. I'll speak to her about it when we've finished here."

The renewed vigor in her speech led him to believe that Neelix's absence was, in fact, the only thing weighing heavily on her mind at the current moment. Pleased that this was the case, he refrained from mentioning the latest opera he had discovered hidden away in his databanks and instead began discussing the hydroponics bay. He felt that the growing botanist in her would enjoy hearing that he'd discovered nutritional and gestational value in the latest round of seeds they had collected on their journey.

ii

It happened quickly after this.

Not a day, not a week, but it happened very quickly nevertheless. How could it not be quickly? One doesn't judge the time it will take for their life to be altered. Voyager's crew did not think to themselves after being flung across their galaxy, 'That happened much more slowly than I had expected it to.' No, they had not; they had moved through their first week of duty in shock, because the quickness of unfortunate events can only ever be that, a shock.

To the Doctor, it happened the most quickly of all…

iii

Harry was at the operations console when it did happen, monitoring the Delta Flyer and the two biological life signs within it: Tom and Seven.

The ensign could not help but feel small traces of bemusement at the thought of the two deep in conversation. Well, in as deep of a conversation as Seven of Nine could get beyond responses meant to 'terminate' the 'irrelevant' line of inquiry. Her social skills had improved over the last year (if the rumors were true about the ex-drone and the Commander then an explanation for why was not needed), but she still had parsecs to go before anything Tom had to say would be met with a truly interested response.

But no, Harry did not feel sorry for Tom. The pilot could take care of himself (he had married a half-Klingon after all, and was now raising what looked to be that half-Klingon's clone); it was the Doctor who held Harry's sympathy. Or maybe he felt sorry for Tom and Seven?

It was a very peculiar trio to have been sent to study the blue gas giant. Tom because he could fly, Seven because the atmosphere appeared to contain a previously unknown substance that boosted sensor readings, and the Doctor because he was going – for lack of a better phrasing – stir crazy.

Oh, of course he had made an excuse about a potential medical property mixed right in there with sensor-enhancing molecules, but the Captain had cut him off with a wave of her hand an a barely contained smile when she'd said, "Doctor, you're with Paris and Seven."

Overall, the mission was nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary, and Harry was bored.

He felt much better knowing that he was probably not the only one.

When it did happen, Harry's eyes were scanning the bridge to be sure that his misery was, in fact, being shared. It was. Even Tuvok, standing at his station with the attention and patience only a Vulcan could exude, looked ready to yawn. But no, that was merely a catch in the bridge's clinical light or a flight of fancy in Harry's mind; Tuvok would never yawn.

Harry's console beeped, and he looked back at it chagrined. Chakotay glanced up from his place at Command, eyes inquiring whether the sound held any significance. He looked like he might be praying to something that it did, "Report?"

"There was a fluctuation in the atmosphere of the planet, sir, just off of bow of the Delta Flyer. It looks like a natural occurrence, perhaps the beginning of a storm."

"Might as well check it out. Chakotay to the Delta Flyer."

"Yes, Commander," Seven's cool voice filled the bridge.

Harry tried to get a visual, but there was too much interference from the planet.

"The sensors have picked up a possible storm just off the Delta Flyer, are you aware of it?" Chakotay was tapping commands into the console at his chair, likely pulling up the very data Harry himself was reading.

There was a pause, normal static, and then Tom, "Gotcha Commander, and we don't think it's a natural storm. The atmospheric conditions were stable until we transported some of it aboard."

"We are running tests," Seven concluded.

Through it, the low timber of the Doctor's voice could be heard. His words were not tangible, but Harry could only assume that he was running the aforementioned tests as they spoke. Perhaps he had not been lying when he'd told the Captain about the medicinal properties of the atmosphere?

Harry's console beeped again.

"Another storm is forming!"

There was more than one, but he didn't need to articulate it. The way the Commander's face seemed to tense with worry let him know that he was getting the same readings he was.

"Delta Flyer," Chakotay started, stopping short when a harsh static rebounded back through the feed.

Wincing, he ordered Harry to cut the comm-link and tapped his combadge, "Commander Chakotay to Captain Janeway."

Gruff, Janeway's voice was a balm to the bridge crew's tense nerves, "Go ahead, Commander."

"The away team is experiencing atmospheric storms, and they seem…." he looked toward his console again, pressing several commands before muttering a light swear, "to mirror signs of life."

Harry, already having come to that conclusion, looked over to Tuvok to see his reaction. The Vulcan merely raised a brow in his direction.

No sigh, no pause, just a curt and reassuring, "I'm on my way, Commander."

By the time she reached the bridge, it would be to late. The sensors would have already read that the Delta Flyer was being engulfed in a solidifying mass, that the shuttle then disappeared for the briefest of moments into what could only be described as a sensory overload, and then reappeared.

Undamaged.

In near perfect condition.

But with three biological life signs; one of them fading fast.