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Series: Voyager
Couple: EMH/7
Rated: It's up to the list...but now pg-13
Parts:1/1 ????

The Lonely One

By Lorre

So alone, no longer any voices inside my head. At first the fear of being
alone overwhelmed me. It was Kathryn Janeway who helped me
understand the joy of being able to do something for myself, the joy of
understanding the nature of the human collective.

Why do I take everything, and turn it into a statement of gold? My
'logic' , to use a Vulcan term, only recognizes black and white. It ignores
the shades of grey. I exist as one, but I want more. I ache for more, and
after my weakness surfaces I berate myself for failing in my task of
oneness.

The Doctor is the worse cause of this ache, that words cannot describe.
I have yet to figure out how to deal with it. Over and over I am drawn to
the computer bank in search of a cure. While I physically ache, it is
more. It consumes me to the point of fear, bone cracking fear.

The fear of what I am becoming, the fear that no one would be willing to
help me ease this ache of loneliness. To borrow a phrase from Tom Paris,
I am "scared Shitless." Thus is the reason of my platonic kiss.

As my lips touched his cheek, I knew that it was a mistake. The instinct
called to wrap my arms around him, and never let him go. Am I going
insane to feel the things that I do about him? He only is a computer
program, and yet he is my dearest friend.

His fantasy's scare me, not what they contain, but what they don't
contain. He had me posing nude before him, like some medieval
examination of anatomy–clinical. He had women fawning over him, but
one would expect to find one particular woman. One would expect to see
fantasies of a more sexual nature. I may be Borg, but the Borg have
knowledge of this. Thus I hide my kiss as planktonic, because I fear him.
I fear his rejection. I fear that he wouldn't want me. I fear that he
doesn't want anyone. Is he man or machine?
Am I woman or machine? Are the feelings that tumble through me a
result of the cravings of my human flesh? I am strong. I am Borg, and yet
the little girl inside of me craves solace. She craves a smile from him, a
touch to the cheek. She is getting stronger, so much stronger.

Last night he took me dancing again. He said that we had spent too
much time singing, and their was something new that he wanted to show
me. What he had ended up showing me was a new dance, or more aptly
an old dance. I really should have told him to stop touching me, to stop
holding me as we moved to the music. I was lost the moment the music
started. When we dance, it is the only time that I feel his arms around
me. It's the only time I don't feel alone.

I realize that he is a hologram, but he feels so real. I can feel his breath
on my neck, his fingers brushing my back. My lips ache, hunger in a
way much different that when I crave food. I looked up into his eyes.
For a moment I thought I could see something, a flash. His lips quivered,
as if under the control of some great emotion.

If I had the ability, I would relive it again, but this time with a simple
hologram. With one, a mere puppet, one that wouldn't refuse me. I
guess that is the problem with needing a hologram. It makes it
impossible to replicate him, even just his looks.

Then I realizes something, even with a replica it wouldn't be him, the one
that makes me feel so alone. So I continued dancing with him, swaying
softly to the music. He pulled me closer, and his strength surrounded me.

Of all the people on the ship, all the people I call my family, he is the one
I feel closest to. It is the strangest thing, he makes me feel whole and yet
so alone.

I have thought about talking to Captain Janeway about what I am feeling.
Perhaps she could explain it, but something held her back. It was almost
as if she was admitting a weakness, and she couldn't do that.

If I could only stop the dreams, then perhaps I could contain the fire. I
don't know where they come from, only that in the middle of the day I
get flashes.

The last one was the worst of all. I still can feel his hands on my flesh, as
I stood so closely facing the bulkhead. He orders me not to turn around,
not to face him. His chest brushes my back, as his hands trail so gently
over my shoulders. I can't help but want, need, and crave with a
desperation who has never tasted but has a million memories of such
acts.

Alone and mixed up, that's how I feel.

***********************************

The Doctor paused the playback of Seven's log. In this he violated her,
but the Captain had asked him to inquire into what was troubling her. He
had tried asking her to dinner and dancing, but it left her even more quite
and unresponsive. She held her own council, at least now he knew why.

So he asked the Captain to look into her personal logs. The Captain had
given him permission. She had told him that given that they were
personal friends, it wouldn't be as much of an intrusion into her private
life.

So the Doctor accessed Seven's personal logs. Part of him wanted to
jump for joy, happiness rising inside of him at the hint of her possible
feelings for him. He knew, however, that only she could work through
this problem–and given her past, it would probably be a long time until
she would face it.

He ached as well. He recalled her look, while they danced. He had been
so close to giving in to what he had wanted, to kiss her. How could he
know that she would see his fantasies, his day dreams? How could she
not understand that he was so unused to this type of thinking,
processing, that he was too embarrassed to even think of any women
locked in a passionate embrace with him? Would she know how much it
hurt not to have any woman look at him in that way? They just looked at
him like he was a program, something less than a man.

It was a curse that Dr. Zimmerman had left him with, all the feelings and
desires of a human male. He was just realizing the ramifications of
having the same male desire. He wanted her. He too was tired of being
alone.

He heard the pain in Seven's voice, the emptiness. He felt the same exact
way. He shut off the PADD, and grabbed his holo-emitter.

"Computer, Locate Seven of Nine." He told it.

"Seven of Nine is in holodeck two." The computer replied.

"Is she alone?" The Doctor asked.

"There are no other life forms in holodeck two." The Doctor could
almost hear the subtle irony in the computer's female voice, almost as if
she was laughing at him. He knew that wasn't the case, and yet given
his own position.

He walked out of Sickbay, on his way to holodeck two. At least he could
provide her some company, and see if she wanted to talk. He would
never leave her to face the emptiness alone.

************************

Should I go on? Or is this the end of my musing? What should to next
part be rated if I wrote it?