by Emma Woodhouse

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager, and all these nice people are the property of Paramount. Yes, it's true! All the bit players in today's drama have appeared at least once on a Star Trek Voyager episode. Dalby and Henley, Nicoletti and Ayala - can YOU identify the episode? Collect them all, impress your friends! (Well, I invented Lars and Abner, but Paramount can have them if they want them. . .)

Warning: NC-17 means sex, and Paris/Kim means that's who.

Although P/K, this story is not a continuation of my Tom 'n Harry saga ('Tom, Dick and Harry', 'Lifewish', and 'Unforgettable') - I just had the urge to do First Time again. This is a stand-alone story, the sequel to none, and the prequel to none. The story takes place sometime before Future's End (hence the Doctor's confinement to Sickbay), but sometime after The Chute.

Yes, we're dealing with Chute Issues, and you know what that means: All aboard the Angst Express!

Obligatory Obscure Quotation:


"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible."

T. E. Lawrence
Seven Pillars Of Wisdom


Because I begin my tale with an epidemic of a virus familiar to all Trek fans, Taffy calls this story "The Naked Yet Again", but I call it -


The Valley
by Emma Woodhouse
---

"Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 50239.6: I have identified the virus affecting the crew as the same or very similar to one which was encountered by the USS Enterprise on Stardate 41209.2. The CMO of the Enterprise managed to synthesize an antidote to the virus, but the crew onboard the USS Tsiolkovsky was not so lucky - their own bizarre behavior doomed them all. I am in the process of synthesizing the antidote, based upon the notes of Doctor Beverly Crusher, and expect to soon have the cure in hand - "

The Doctor sighed, and switched off the recording. Soon have an antidote and then what? He was unable to leave Sickbay. Kes had wandered off several hours ago. The bridge was deserted, the ship locked in orbit around an uninhabited planet, and he himself had locked the turbolifts to the bridge.

At least the Captain had seen what was coming, and given him the command codes, before she too was infected by the virus. Now the Emergency Medical Holographic Program appeared to be in command of the ship. He has received some garbled messages from several persons onboard who still seemed to be unaffected, but not for the past hour.

He still couldn't quite believe it. Knowing how fast a virus could spread, and actually seeing it in action were two different things. It was almost frightening.

He had all of Beverly Crusher's notes on the virus, and knew that it passed easily through simple contact and seemed to elude the transporter's filters. The only solution was to administer the antidote to all hands.

The virus sounded harmless enough. Apparently, all it did was eliminate the victim's inhibitions, so that they would act on impulse with no thought of the dangers involved.

And the amazing thing to him was that, if Doctor Crusher was to be believed, none of the crew had been acting out of character, that all their bizarre behaviors and desires had actually been hidden in there all along. In the past day, the Doctor had decided that he really preferred his biological lifeforms inhibited.

Even Kes - KES, of all people! She had seemed perfectly fine, until she suddenly put down her medical tricorder, and loudly proclaimed that she was sick of Neelix treating her like a porcelain doll and was going to go find someone willing to fuck her brains out. And she had left.

Now the Doctor thought furiously. He was in a realm outside his expertise, trying to think for the whole ship, trying to out- think a entire crew of bizarrely intoxicated lifeforms who would be carelessly killing themselves if he didn't succeed in removing all opportunities for them to do so.

He had locked all the airlocks on his personal code, seized control of life support, and deactivated all ship's weapons and shuttlecraft. Personal hand phasers were out of his power to deenergize. He had considered releasing a sedative gas into the ventilation system, but his databases told him that was too dangerous with the virus running rampant through the crew's bloodstreams, it could very well kill them.

First, do no harm.

Once the antidote was finished synthesizing, maybe he could think of some way to lure some of the crew into Sickbay.

---

"Harry! Duck!"

Harry Kim heard Tom Paris' voice behind him, and ducked as best he could. It wasn't easy, with Chell attacking him. The Bolian was in a crazy rage, and was biting the ensign's hand.

Phaser fire lanced over Harry's head, hitting Chell squarely. He dropped to the ground, stunned, finally letting go of Harry.

Harry looked down at his hand. It felt numb from the phaser blast, and he was surprised to see that it was bleeding freely.

Tom hurried over to Harry, and said, "Come on, we've got to get out of the corridors - it's crazy out here!"

"Sickbay," Harry said. "I heard the Doctor saying he had the command codes - " He swayed slightly.

Tom took him by the arm, and said, "We've got to get that hand patched up first, kiddo - you're leaving a trail." They rounded the corner and were at Tom's quarters, hustling inside and locking the door.

Tom leaned against the door and sighed, as Harry collapsed on the sofa. "Man, oh man, oh man!" Tom said.

Harry nodded. He was feeling pretty woozy. Blood from his hand seeped down onto the floor.

Tom straightened up, and said guiltily, "Whoops, better get that hand taken care of."

The medical kits in crew's quarters didn't include regenerators, just first aid supplies. The gash in Harry's hand was jagged, but not large, and Tom got it cleaned and bandaged. Then he went to work cleaning up the blood.

Harry's head was clearing now, and he sat up suddenly and realized what Tom was doing. "Tom! Stop that!"

Tom looked up. "Huh?"

"Chell BIT me," Harry said urgently, "and he was infected, so surely - "

Tom looked at the bloody towel in his bare hand, and said sadly, "Oh, hell."

"We've got to get to Sickbay!" Harry insisted.

But Tom shook his head. "We're not going anywhere until those crazies move on. It's too dangerous out there, with Chell trying to maim every Star Fleet officer he can find, and B'Elanna on the prowl for a 'worthy mate', and as for Neelix - !"

He flopped down on the sofa beside Harry. "Maybe we'll be lucky - some of the people who got infected didn't start feeling it for several hours, so we've still got a chance to get to Sickbay. If we don't get killed first."

Harry nodded. "I guess you're right. I'll tell you, Tom, this past 24 hours has been simply unbelievable!"

"Believe it," Tom said wearily.

"I wonder where the Captain is?"

"Somewhere safe, I hope."

There was a moment of silence. Then Harry said, "I hope we're safe in here."

"Of course you're safe," Tom said. He put his arm around Harry and pulled him closer. "I'd never do anything to hurt Harry."

Tom's voice sounded - strange. Alarmed, Harry looked up into his face. Tom's eyes seemed to be almost glowing. He was smiling fondly at Harry. Uh-oh, Harry thought. Frozen, he watched as Tom's hand came up to gently stroke his cheek.

"Never hurt my sweet Harry," Tom said.

Oddly enough, Harry didn't feel frightened. Clearly, Tom was feeling the effects of the virus. But Harry believed him. Tom would never hurt him. Still, he was concerned. Tom was obviously out of his head, and was going to be awfully embarrassed, once the Doctor managed to cure this virus. IF the Doctor managed to cure it, he amended, remembering the luckless crew of the Tsiolkovsky.

Tom continued to stroke his friend's face, running his thumb gently over Harry's eyebrow. Then he slid his hand around to the back of Harry's head, and leaned closer. "You're so beautiful, Harry. Did you know that?" And kissed him.

Oh, my lord, Harry thought with dismay. Now what do I do?

Tom kissed Harry again. Very gently. His lips moved softly against Harry's, and Harry couldn't deny that it felt good. Not knowing what else to do, Harry relaxed in Tom's arms, and let himself be kissed.

He was starting to feel dizzy again. This time it must be the virus. Why else would his arms be creeping around Tom? Why else would he be kissing Tom back?

The two young men sat of the sofa for a long time, kissing one another, and Harry was surprised at how good it felt when Tom's tongue caressed the roof of his mouth.

And then Tom stood up, and pulled Harry to his feet. Harry swayed a bit. "Tom, what are we - "

But Tom didn't answer, just took his hand and led him to the bed. Harry fell backward on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, feeling Tom pulling his boots off. And then Tom was beside him, kissing him again, and unfastening his uniform. "Tom," he tried again, "what are we doing?"

Somehow he was naked now, and Tom answered gently, "I'm going to show you some things I'll bet you don't know." Harry looked over at his best friend and saw that Tom was naked too.

Tom pulled him into his arms, and the feel of naked skin on naked skin made Harry shiver all over, as he threw his arms around Tom and joined in the kissing. This felt simply wonderful. He hadn't realized how starved he'd been for this physical contact. It really felt different when it was a man in his arms. Tom was right in guessing that this was something that Harry had never done before.

He felt Tom's lips on his throat, and Tom's hand was moving softly over his ribcage, stroking him almost reverently. Without conscious thought, Harry was stroking Tom, too, thinking - so different! The larger body, the hard muscles he was lost in the feel of it. And then he felt lips fastening onto his nipple, and gasped at the jolt of pure pleasure.

Tom chuckled softly, and raised his head to look into Harry's eyes, and Harry felt another sharp thrill at what he saw in Tom's eyes. Now he simply lay back and closed his eyes, and turned his body over to Tom. He wasn't disappointed.

It felt as if his entire blood supply had been replaced with champagne, Harry thought, he just felt so - fizzy, tingling all over. A stray tendril of thought reminded him, this virus is dangerous! But it felt so good. And then he felt Tom's mouth on his penis.

Harry moaned with pleasure. He'd never imagined anything feeling so good. Libby had tried this a couple times, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, but she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do. And Harry couldn't tell her, because he didn't know either.

But Tom must either be more experienced or less inhibited than Libby, Harry thought hazily. The tip of his tongue was drawing abstract patterns on Harry's penis, and where the tongue had passed, the wetness remaining felt cool and tingling. Warm fingers were caressing and rolling Harry's balls, stroking feather-light, and Harry was shivering all over.

Now Tom was kissing the soft skin of Harry's inner thighs, and he asked quietly, "Do you like this?"

"Don't stop!" Harry croaked.

Tom chuckled, and took Harry's penis into his mouth, first sucking hard, and then retreating to swirl his tongue around the tip. Just when Harry was sure he was going to explode, Tom would retreat, until the retreat became almost torture. Harry was writhing on the bed, and he couldn't stand it anymore. "Tom! Tom, please!"

And now Tom had Harry's entire penis deep in his mouth, and Harry thought in amazement, how can he DO that? - could I do that? He gasped in surprise as he felt a finger slide into his anus, and was even more surprised at how good it felt. And Tom was sucking deeply, and now Harry was coming, arching his back and shouting as he convulsed beneath his friend's head. Tom still didn't stop, didn't pull away, continued his ministrations, drawing jolt after jolt of pleasure from his delirious friend until Harry collapsed limply onto the bed.

Tom moved up the bed, and lay beside his panting friend, smiling at him. He stroked Harry's face, and turned his head for a kiss. Harry opened his mouth under Tom's lips, and tasted the slickness of his own semen as Tom's tongue caressed the inside of his mouth.

Tom rolled on top of Harry, and Harry wrapped his arms around him, thinking with a guy, there's so much to hug! Tom's lips were wandering along Harry's shoulders now, and the slight roughness of Tom's chin caused Harry to shiver.

Now Tom was licking Harry's ear, and whispered, "Harry? Know what I want to do?"

"What?" Harry whispered back.

Softly, barely audibly, Tom whispered, "I want to fuck you, Harry."

And suddenly there was nothing in the galaxy Harry wanted more. He gulped, and said, "Sure. But you'll have to tell me what to do."

Tom pulled his head back so he could look into Harry's eyes. "Your first time?" Harry nodded, and Tom pulled him into a powerful hug. Then he asked, "You're sure? Sure you want to do this?"

"TOM!" Harry cried. "I'm POSITIVE!"

"All right, then." Tom kissed Harry again, smiling lovingly into his eyes, and then sat up. He grabbed a pillow and rolled Harry over, with the pillow under his hips.

Then he seemed to think for a moment, and got up, returning after a few minutes from the bathroom, holding a bottle and saying "Baby oil?"

Harry asked, "What for?"

"You'll see, " Tom said, chuckling softly, sitting beside Harry and stroking his back. Harry had been feeling a little silly, in this unusual position, feeling like his ass was being served on a platter or something. But once Tom started stroking, he didn't feel silly anymore, and sighed.

He gave a start of surprise to feel Tom's lips on his ass, and said with a shaky laugh, "I never would have taken you for an ass kisser, Tom."

Tom moved up his body, kissing the back of his neck, and saying, "Not every ass, buddy." And then breathed in his ear, "Just Harry's."

Now Tom's tongue was tracing the crack of his ass, and Harry thought, I can't believe he's doing that! And I can't believe it feels so good! And gasped as Tom's tongue began to probe his anus.

Harry grabbed the corners of the bed, and held on tight, spreading his legs wider, feeling Tom's hands roaming his hips and thighs, while his tongue moved back and forth, from anus to balls and back again. Harry hadn't even known that people did this, but now that he did know, he could see why! He was moaning softly, and was astonished to realize he was getting an erection again.

Now he felt a drizzle of cool slickness, and a slick finger was sliding into his anus. Harry pushed against the finger, squirming impatiently. Two fingers now, and it was rather tight, but not really painful, and deep, deep inside him, what WAS that feeling? "Tom!" he gasped urgently.

Lips caressed his neck, and Tom whispered, "Take it easy, buddy, you're not ready yet. I don't want this to hurt."

Harry tried to take it easy, as he felt Tom gently stretching his tight opening, but he wanted it right now!

And finally, he felt Tom move around behind him, stroking his back and kissing his shoulders, and a tight pressure on his anus as Tom eased his way into his body.

This was just so weird! Harry was trembling now, and moaning, as Tom slowly advanced and retreated, until finally he was all the way in, lying on Harry's back.

Tom slid his arms under Harry, hugging him tightly, and whispering, "Oh, this feels so good. Doesn't this feel good, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and gasped, "It really does."

Tom pressed his cheek against Harry's, and said, "Try not to come yet, Harry - I want you in me," and Harry almost came just hearing it.

Now Tom raised himself on his hands, and was thrusting slowly into Harry, groaning with pleasure, and Harry was panting and trying to hang on, wanting to give Tom everything that Tom wanted.

He couldn't quite believe it, that Tom was inside him. Tom! Inside - him! And he could tell that Tom was really liking it, which made him feel so good Harry pushed back impatiently, as Tom picked up the pace, and that internal feeling just got better and better, until Tom shouted "Oh!" And then he wrapped his arms around Harry as he convulsed on his back.

Now Tom was collapsed on his back, panting, whispering, "Harry, love, my Harry."

Harry had never felt so wonderful in his life.

After a few minutes, Tom moved off of Harry, and ruffled his friend's hair. "How about it, Harry? Want to give it a try?"

Harry rolled over and sat up, grabbing Tom and laughing, "What do you think?"

Tom grinned at him and kissed him hard on the lips. "Then go for it," he said, and took Harry's place face down on the bed.

Harry was trembling. How could he not have noticed before how beautiful his friend was? Tom lay beside him, eyes closed, smiling slightly - Harry just had to lie down on top of him and touch as much of Tom as he could, kissing Tom's throat. Tom sighed, and breathed, "Oh, Harry - for so long. . ."

Harry sat up and found the baby oil, and began to prepare Tom, as he had been prepared. If he'd once had inhibitions, back in some dimly remembered past, he'd shed them somewhere along the way, and nothing embarrassed him anymore as he explored Tom's body, listening to Tom sighing and moaning under his curious hands.

And now he took his position behind Tom, between Tom's spread legs, and the thought that Tom wanted this too was almost more than he could bear.

Slowly, he pushed his way into his best friend's body, feeling Tom moving beneath him, and Tom whispered, "Oh, Harry, oh, perfect - my dear love - "

When he was all the way in, Harry paused as Tom had done, a short intermission to celebrate their connection, and feel it. Arms around Tom, he kissed his throat and jaw and ear, and Tom's head was turned to the side, and Harry kissed the side of his mouth. "You're so beautiful, Tom," he whispered, and began to thrust slowly into Tom's body.

He gradually increased his pace, and felt the pressure building within him, as Tom whimpered softly and pushed back against him, and then Tom gave a powerful shudder, and Harry paused, wondering what was happening.

The shudders continued, and Tom threw back his head, crying out, "HARRY!" And suddenly Harry realized - Tom was having an orgasm. With Harry inside him.

For a moment Harry was frozen, transfixed by the terrifying beauty of Tom's moment of ecstasy, and then he was following Tom, and they shook together, shouting in unison as they soared over the edge.

They rested together for a long while, Harry exhausted on Tom's back, and then Harry rolled off, and pulled his friend to his chest.

Several drowsy kisses later, the two friends fell asleep, Tom cradled in Harry's arms.

---

Harry woke up in stages. First came the consciousness of his own existence. Then awareness that he was in a bed, that these weren't his quarters, that he was naked, that he was not alone.

Then the memory of an exhausting, frightening day, an expanding epidemic, whirling chaos and battles in the corridors.

Place. Tom's quarters.

And - sure enough - it was Tom sleeping in his arms.

Now the memory from after the battle, and Harry felt hot and knew that he was blushing at the thought.

The virus. Had he shaken it off? He was feeling clear-headed now, though quite embarrassed and disturbed, and he couldn't believe now how easily he'd let himself be distracted from the ship's crisis.

But it had felt so - !

Tom was stirring now, making soft noises and moving in his arms.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Tom?"

"Mmmm?"

"Wake up, Tom. We need to get to Sickbay."

Tom raised his head and beamed at his friend. He was obviously still firmly in the grip of the virus. "Sickbay? Why?" He planted a light kiss on the end of Harry's nose. "Don't you feel good?"

"It's the virus, Tom - don't you remember?" Harry felt very self conscious - good lord, they were both naked!

"Virus?" Tom looked worried, and gently stroked Harry's forehead. "Does my Harry have a fever?"

"Uh - that's right, Tom. A fever. I'm afraid this gash on my hand is getting infected."

Harry showed Tom his bandaged hand, and Tom viewed it with drunken concern. "You're right, Harry. We need to get you to Sickbay."

The two men got up, and Harry managed to convince Tom to take a shower, thinking, no way am I walking into Sickbay with all this semen and baby oil the thought made him blush again, but he wrestled a laughing Tom into the shower, and managed to get them both cleaned up.

Tom wanted to fool around, and kept ambushing Harry, with pinches, kisses, caresses - Harry was both embarrassed and aroused by the struggle, but kept firm to his task, and soon the two men were back in uniform, peering out into the hall.

The coast was clear.

They hurried to the turbolift, and directed it to Sickbay. As the doors open, they saw a crewman sleeping curled up in the hall, but all else seemed quiet, and they made it to Sickbay without incident.

Harry began, "Computer, activate Emergency Medical - "

But the Doctor came out of the office, exclaiming, "Finally! Are you gentlemen in charge of the recovery efforts?"

Harry thought about it. "I guess so."

Tom was leaning on Harry, with his arm around him, smiling at the Doctor in a friendly fashion. The Doctor eyed him skeptically for a moment, and then said, "I have synthesized what I believe to be an antidote - "

Tom interrupted him. "Harry's hand is hurt, Doc. You've got to fix it."

Harry held up his hand, and said, "It's really not much, Chell bit me."

"The Doc's got to fix it, Harry," Tom insisted. "You were bleeding all over the place." He stroked his friend's hair and added, "Poor Harry."

The Doctor nodded. "Of course. If you'd come right over here, Ensign - " and led Harry to a chair. He unbandaged the hand, and treated it with the regenerator, while Tom hovered over Harry's shoulder, watching the procedure and stroking Harry's neck.

The hand was quickly healed, and Tom said triumphantly, "Alllll better now," taking Harry's hand and kissing it, while the Doctor scanned both men with his medical tricorder.

"Well," the Doctor said, "if you would just wait right here, I'll get that injection."

And he went back to his office, thinking that human nature did seem to have an infinite capacity to surprise him. When he returned with a hypospray, he got another surprise.

Ensign Kim was still sitting in the chair, but Lieutenant Paris was now kneeling in front of him, kissing his hands. "Please, Harry," the lieutenant was saying, "fuck me again."

Harry looked down at Tom in an agony of embarrassment. But part of him wanted to take his friend to the back room, and take his clothes off and give him exactly what he wanted.

Tom's eyes were closed, and his lips moved gently over Harry's hands, as he whispered, "Please, Harry-love, I want you inside me, it feels so good - "

And the Doctor leaned down and administered the hypospray to Tom's neck, and Tom collapsed.

Harry jumped up, exclaiming in alarm, "What happened? Is he all right?" He and the Doctor moved Tom to a biobed.

The Doctor was scanning the lieutenant with his medical tricorder, and finally said, "Ha! Yes, the serum is working. We have a viable antidote!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to know. Better give me a shot of that stuff, Doc."

The Doctor looked at him in surprise. "You don't need a shot, Ensign. You don't have the virus."

Harry gaped at him. "I don't have the - But, surely!"

The Doctor nodded positively, and said, "In fact, you seem to be immune. I'll need a blood sample. This is most interesting; I'll be able to add new details to Doctor Crusher's work. A shame I can't transmit this information to her - "

He bustled to his instrument table, and set to work taking a blood sample. Harry tried to listen to his steady stream of comment, but his mind was in a whirl.

Never had the virus!

Then, what was all that - stuff - about?

A groan came from the biobed, and the two turned toward it. "How are you feeling, Mister Paris?" the Doctor asked.

"Pretty lousy," Tom admitted. He sat up, and said, "What's going on?" There was a pause, and then he said, "Oh, yeah - that virus."

The Doctor said, "Ah, now we can begin." He handed Harry a pouch, containing several hyposprays and replacement vials. "Here you go, Ensign. The hypospray will calculate the dosage for you, all you have to do is locate your patient, point and shoot. Simple." Tom slid off the biobed and joined them.

Harry nodded. "And once we get someone else back to normal, we can give them a hypospray, and send them off to find more people."

The Doctor smiled at them. "Exactly. Now that we've got the serum, we should have things back under control in no time."

The two young men turned toward the door, but the Doctor called after them, "Oh, by the way, gentlemen - " They turned back. "In this matter, you've been deputized to the Medical Department. That means that doctor- patient confidentiality will be applying to you as well. You will doubtless be finding people in some very compromising situations, and the gossip potential will likely be enormous, but you will just have to restrain yourselves."

Tom nodded, with an odd expression on his face. "I don't think you need to worry about that from us, Doc."


In the corridor, Tom said, "Computer, location of Captain Janeway."

The disembodied voice of the computer answered, "Captain Janeway is in her quarters."

"Simple enough," Harry said, giving Tom a relieved grin.

But of course, it wasn't that simple. In the Captain's quarters, the two officers found only the Captain's uniform, with its communicator still in place.

Tom spared a glance at the open closet door, and said, "I'm not familiar enough with the Captain's civvies to know what she'd be wearing."

"Let's just hope she's wearing SOMETHING!" Harry said.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to inject people as we find them."

And they set out on their task. Several crewmen were injected in the corridor, and six in the mess hall. Harry wondered if Neelix would ever get the mess hall cleaned up again, but that wasn't their problem.

A whole bunch of people seemed to have gravitated to Sandrine's. They found Kes there, sleeping in the corner between Dalby and Ayala, the three using a tablecloth for a blanket.

The young Ocampa reacted quickly to the injection, looking around, and saying, "OH!" She clutched the tablecloth in embarrassment. Harry brought over her clothes, and suggested that she report to Sickbay.

Dalby and Ayala were given a hypospray and several vials of serum, and sent off to sweep decks 1 through 4. Kes dressed quietly and hurried off to Sickbay.

Everyone was being very subdued.


As they worked their way through deck 6, Harry worked up the nerve to ask about it. "Tom, what - do you remember?"

There was a long pause. "Why? What do you want me to remember?" Tom studied Harry out of the corner of his eye.

Another long pause, and Harry finally said, "I'm not sure."

Tom said, "Well, don't worry, Harry. I hardly remember a thing. Almost nothing, in fact."

Tom watched his friend's face lighten with relief, and stifled a sigh. Hardly a thing. Almost nothing. I don't remember what your skin felt like under my lips, my hands. I don't remember how close you held me when we kissed. I don't remember how good it felt to lie beneath you - I don't, I WON'T!

Harry felt relieved, and felt guilty about feeling relieved. He wondered what had ever possessed him, to take such shameless advantage of his intoxicated friend. And without even a mood- altering virus for an alibi!

But it was best, he supposed, if Tom didn't remember. Several months ago, Harry had made an idle comment about a couple of the fellows down in Engineering who seemed to be making a match of it, and Tom had shivered, and then said, "Sorry, Harry. I try not to be a bigot - but there was some stuff in prison. . .." His voice had trailed off, and Harry didn't want to ask anymore.

Harry realized he'd have some real thinking to do, when he had the time. He'd never been sexually attracted to another man before. Of course, another man had never kissed him before, either.


They found Captain Janeway in the airponics bay. The Captain was wearing something white and flowing and filmy, her hair was unbound and going in every direction, and she was hard at work on a flower garland.

Hearing the door, she turned toward the two young officers, asking eagerly, "Do I look mad enough?"

Wondering if the question even had a right answer, Tom finally said hesitantly, "Well, I certainly think you look - sufficiently deranged."

More practically, Harry asked, "Mad enough for what?"

"For the part!" Janeway exclaimed. "I'll show that old fart, I can SO go mad convincingly, I'm NOT too controlled!"

"Uh, the part?" Harry prompted.

"Ophelia!" Janeway said. "Mister Peterson took the role AWAY from me! Said I wasn't believably mad, and gave the part to Sally Renville."

She looked at the flowers in her hand, and flung them petulantly to the floor. "Sally Renville!" she wailed. "And she can't even remember her LINES!"

The two men cautiously closed in on their Captain. Tom maintained eye contact, saying soothingly, "Well, I think you'll be a great Ophelia," as Harry approached her from the side and swiftly gave her an injection.

Janeway slumped back into the ensign's arms. A moment later she opened her eyes, and looked around.

She cleared her throat, and then said, "Oh, my word."

"Yeah," Tom said.

She looked down at her attire and the flowers on the ground, and sighed. "High school drama club. At the time, I thought it was the worst tragedy of my life."

Then she looked up, squared her shoulders, and said, "Status report, Mister Paris."

The Captain was back.

---

The staff meeting the next day was unusually subdued. Neelix and Kes weren't speaking to one another.

B'Elanna Torres was suffering from guilt and embarrassment over the four men she had beaten into unconsciousness, arrogantly proclaiming them to be unworthy of her.

Chakotay's experiences had all been internal; he had never left his quarters, though his mind had travelled far, to places that surprised him.

Tuvok had been discovered in the cargo bay, looking quite normal, but speaking in Vulcan, and apparently dressed for some ritual. Once injected with the serum, he offered no explanations.

Harry was trying hard not to keep looking at Tom. Funny how your perceptions can change overnight. You look at something every day for years without really seeing it, and then once you see it, you can't believe you missed it before. How could Harry have missed the fact that his friend was so beautiful? The long, lean body, strong and warm, the glorious bone structure, gentle eyes, and oh, those wonderful, talented hands - !

Tom was staring down at the table, looking thoughtful and sad.

The Captain quickly ran through the review of the ship's status, reminding everyone that there was still a great deal of cleanup to complete, and then added, "Oh, and one last thing. The Doctor will be interviewing all hands regarding their memories of the virus - some people apparently remember nothing at all. But the interview schedule has been posted, and your assistance will be invaluable. Of course, all interviews will be strictly confidential."

The officers exchanged uneasy glances.

---

"So! Mister Paris." The Doctor looked up from his PADD, at the young officer shifting uncomfortably in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "Do you have any memories of your experience with the virus?"

Tom said thoughtfully, "I told Harry - almost nothing."

"Hmm," the Doctor murmured. "Almost nothing." He made a note.

Tom looked up in surprise. "Don't write that down!"

"Why not?"

"Because I lied!"

"Really? Why would you do that?"

Tom looked away. There was a long silence. The Doctor waited patiently. Finally Tom said, "I could see how uncomfortable he was. Embarrassed. What we did together . . . embarrassed him . . . and I just couldn't bear to . . .."

He lapsed into silence.

The Doctor said briskly, "Well, then. How much do you remember?"

"Everything," Tom whispered.

"Rather comprehensive."

Tom was staring off into space. "Every moment, every touch, every feeling."

The Doctor sat very still. He'd been reviewing his psychology databases, and he rather thought that silence on his part would be most effective right now.

"Waking up. With him. And so perfectly happy! If only - "

An inflectionless prompt. "If only?"

"If only I had died then!" Tom cried out.

The Doctor was a bit surprised at how well this was working. Another prompt. "Then?"

Tom got up and began to pace the office. "Right then! Before I raised my head and looked into his eyes - saw that discomfort and embarrassment. Right then, waking up in his arms, to such complete happiness, so certain that I was loved - "

He'd forgotten the Doctor was there, he might have been making a diary entry.

But then the outer door to Sickbay swished open, and Kes entered the main Sickbay chamber, back from the lab, and Tom blinked and was back under control. He turned to the Doctor.

"Anything else?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you, Mister Paris."

The lieutenant nodded and left quickly, and the Doctor made a note beside his name.

---

The door to the Ready Room opened, and the First Officer entered. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Janeway turned from the computer screen on the upper level. "Yes, Commander. Here he is, Doctor."

Chakotay walked up to join the Captain, and saw that the Doctor was on the viewscreen.

"Excellent," the Doctor said. "Now that I have you both here. I have completed my biological analysis of the virus that infected the crew. A shame I won't be able to share this information with Star Fleet. But I really wanted to talk to you about something else."

Janeway nodded. "Go ahead."

"We have cured the virus," the Doctor said, "but we haven't dealt with the aftermath."

"What do you mean?" Chakotay asked.

"This was a highly traumatic experience, for many people," the Doctor said. "That came across most strongly in my interviews. I strongly recommend that counselling be arranged for certain members of the crew, and offered as an option to all hands."

"But - " Janeway spread her hands. "We don't have a counsellor."

"I have been studying the psychology database," the Doctor told her, "and while it was not a part of my original programming, I do feel capable of taking it on."

"Well, for that matter," Chakotay said, "I took the Star Fleet counselling course for non-medical personnel - I was a collateral duty counsellor when I was a lieutenant. It was a small ship, and didn't have the crew for a medical counsellor."

The Doctor gave a surprised "Hmm!" and vanished from the screen for a moment. When he reappeared, he said, "Why, so you were, Commander. I suppose that's a lesson to me. I really should review the personnel files. Well, that's a relief in a way, because you will see that the list of people I'm referring to counselling is fairly extensive. I would be grateful if you would share the load."

The list appeared, scrolling along the side of the screen. Janeway was astonished. "Good lord, Doctor, that's - what? - a quarter of the crew!"

"Almost," the Doctor admitted. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I really do consider it necessary. Humanoids have a tendency to hide things from themselves, and then to be suddenly confronted with what they've been avoiding well, it can be unpleasant."

Chakotay had been leaning forward, studying the list. "Chell," he said thoughtfully. "Doesn't surprise me much. He always had such a grudge against Star Fleet, and that sudden cooperativeness when the crews were joined struck me as a little weird. Henley. There's an angry woman."

Then he looked up and asked in surprise, "Paris?"

"Definitely," the Doctor said firmly.

"Didn't think anything would bother that smart ass."

Janeway said softly, "He tries not to show it, I suppose."

"Captain," the Doctor said, "if I had to prioritize on the basis of need, I would most certainly put Lieutenant Paris in the top priority."

Janeway nodded. "Well, you're the doctor, Doctor."

---

Tom lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking deeply.

Counselling! They were going to make him get counselling! Oh, maybe not MAKE him, exactly, but he could tell that they wouldn't leave him alone until he said okay.

When he'd understood the options, he said he wanted the Doctor for a counsellor. Figured that if he had to talk about personal stuff, he'd rather be talking to a computer. Chakotay - saw too much.

Tom decided that he could talk to the Doctor about the burden of growing up in his powerful father's shadow. Maybe tell him a few of the more disgusting prison stories. Then, after four or five sessions, he could shake the Doctor's hand with great relief, and say, "Thanks, Doc! I can't tell you what a help this has been!"

And that would be that.

Meanwhile, he'd figure it out by himself.


Harry was also in bed, masturbating and feeling guilty about it. Oh, not about masturbating, but about the fact that his favorite Libby fantasy kept morphing - into Tom.

The long dark hair kept changing to short gold hair, the nape of the neck exposed for his lips. Instead of Libby's spectacular breasts, he was remembering Tom's shoulderblades, as Tom lay beneath him, moaning. And he leaned down and kissed the tender skin beneath Tom's ear, thrusting faster into his friend, and Tom threw back his head and shouted -

- and Harry came explosively, gushing through his hands.

He panted for a few minutes, and then got out of bed and went to clean himself up, wondering what he was going to do.

He couldn't let Tom know what he was thinking, that was for sure - fine way that would be to screw up the most important friendship in his life, making a run on a guy who got the chills at the very idea of men with men.

Harry slowly washed himself, wondering how this had happened, that he was suddenly attracted to a man.

Was it that prison?

Harry shivered, and put on his warmest set of pajamas, remembering that awful, smelly, noisy place, where a man's throat could be cut for a crust of something that looked and tasted like compressed sawdust.

And he remembered lying beside Tom, holding his hand and knowing that his best friend was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

And - how much he'd wanted to kiss him, and tell him how important he was.

---

"Well, now. Mister Paris."

"That's my name," Tom said agreeably, leaning back in the chair.

"Let's talk about sex."

Well, shit. He'd planned to spend a couple sessions at least stringing out childhood slights. "What about it?"

"It's something you like, isn't it?"

"Well, of course! Doesn't everyone?" Tom looked up and added, "Uh, present company excepted, of course."

The Doctor nodded and said, "But many people appear to have what they refer to as 'hangups' about sex. Far more than they do with other biological functions, such as eating, sleeping, waste elimination - "

"Waste elimination," Tom said thoughtfully. "There's some hangups! I once knew this guy - "

"Mister Paris! Are you being evasive?"

"Who, me?"

"We were talking about sex. Or rather, you were avoiding the subject."

"Okay, so I like it. So what?"

"It's just that it doesn't appear to be something you would have repressed, something that this particular virus would bring to the surface."

Aha! Here's the angle, let's head down this detour.

"Well, you see, it's just sex with guys that bothers me. Didn't used to, but it does now."

"And why is that?"

And Tom was off. Telling the Doctor several perfectly true stories about what a Federation prison was like if you were young and 'pretty'.

The Doctor listened carefully. He also observed the lieutenant's demeanor. He wasn't quite as gullible as Lieutenant Paris seemed to believe. But, since they were at least on the topic of discussion, he thought it likely that he could pick up some hints for further sessions.

The stories surprised the Doctor. The product of careful programming, he knew a vast amount about medicine, and also a good deal about regulations. What was not immediately accessible in his main memory could be quickly retrieved

The Doctor listened carefully. He also observed the lieutenant's demeanor. He wasn't quite as gullible as Lieutenant Paris seemed to believe. But, since they were at least on the topic of discussion, he thought it likely that he could pick up some hints for further sessions.

The stories surprised the Doctor. The product of careful programming, he knew a vast amount about medicine, and also a good deal about regulations. What was not immediately accessible in his main memory could be quickly retrieved from the database.

But there were some things the Doctor had simply not thought about. Like the idea that regulations are not always followed, not always even intended to be followed. Rape was illegal in the Federation, the New Zealand Penal Settlement was run by the Federation, therefore prison rape did not occur.

The fact that it did occur, widely, routinely, and with the implicit knowledge of the authorities, was an entirely new concept. A disturbing concept. The Doctor had never thought to question the benevolence of authority.

He might even have doubted the lieutenant's veracity, but as they were talking, he was also doing a system-wide database search, and he found corroborating evidence in some legal opinions tucked away in the judicial files. Apparently, it did indeed occur. Often with the complicity of the authorities.

And the young man in front of him had gone to the prison library on a slow afternoon, not having been warned about the guard on duty, and found himself, as he said, "Bent over a table in the storeroom, getting slammed in the ass."

"And do you know what bugged me the most, Doc?" Tom wanted to know.

"What?"

"I kept thinking - this guy's clocked in, he's getting PAID for this! That really griped me, for some reason. I guess I was pretty naive in those days."

And the guard in the library was just the beginning.

The Doctor listened, silently for the most part, to the story of learning to get along in prison, and the compromises you made, and the things you learned not to care about, the protection you learned not to expect.

And though it disturbed him, and interested him, he still couldn't shake the feeling that the lieutenant was relieved that they weren't talking about something else.

---

The crowd at Sandrine's was rowdy that night. Most of the cleanup was complete, and many of the crew had recovered from the first embarrassment of what they had wound up doing under the influence of what some were calling the Enterprise Virus. Several had even gone so far as to assure others that "we'll all laugh about it some day."

Neelix had enlivened the occasion with a barrel of Talaxian ale, still quite raw, but invigorating. He was speaking to Kes again.

Tom Paris was the life of the party.

He'd been thinking about it, and he decided that maybe it really was just about sex. It was, as he'd told the Doctor, something he enjoyed. So maybe he just hadn't been getting enough lately. Too much time hanging around with Harry, listening to the kid practice the clarinet, and talking with him. Tom liked Harry, he was a great kid and all that, but a guy did have other interests.


Harry watched Tom leave Sandrine's with BOTH the Delaneys, and sighed. At least Tom seemed to have no lasting ill-effects from the virus, so he didn't have to feel guilty about that.

Harry knew that Tom was one of the crewmembers referred to counselling. It wasn't a matter of public record, but on a small ship, things like that were hard to keep confidential. Harry could probably make a list of the crew being counselled and have a fairly close match for reality.

He wasn't one of them. It was kind of funny. Good old stable and sane Harry, he sure doesn't need counselling.

Harry looked up as B'Elanna sat down beside him. She patted his hand and said, "Stop brooding, Star Fleet. Whatever it was, it can't have been that bad."

He looked up at her and smiled. "Says who?"

"Says me!" she said positively. "I'll bet you didn't beat up a lot of guys like I did!"

B'Elanna was one of the few people who were being very forthright about the whole thing. She would admit up front that she went off the rails and now she was being counselled. She had chosen Chakotay for her counsellor; the two of them had a long history together, and she respected and trusted him.

Harry thought he was probably being the least forthright person on the ship. His experiences during the epidemic were something he simply didn't talk about, and the biggest secret he was keeping was that he'd never had the virus at all. So he didn't have the excuse that everyone else had, and it shamed and worried him.

He tried to bring himself back to what B'Elanna was saying.

" - all this time, thinking I had an ugliness complex from growing up in a human colony, but apparently some part of me is so arrogant that I don't think any man is worthy of me! Isn't that just wild?"

Harry smiled at her. "It's only the truth, B'Ela - no man IS worthy of you. But I'm sure one or two of them would be willing to try, if you would condescend to allow them."

She punched him on the shoulder playfully. "Anyway. Chakotay says we'll try again to contact my animal guide - I've promised not to try to kill it this time."

Harry tried to follow the conversation, but his mind wandered. The thing that was disturbing him the most was the knowledge that he hadn't had the virus. A virus infected the crew, people started acting wild. So he had apparently decided that he too had the virus and given himself permission to act wild.

Still not too serious of a problem, until you consider. . .. Recently, Harry had been unjustly confined to a horrific prison. Prisoners there had been equipped with a neural stimulator, which stimulated the production of brain chemicals that cause agitation. The long term prisoners were violent, impulsive, animalistic - and it was all attributed to "the clamp".

Tom and Harry had gotten awfully agitated, too, to the point where Harry had become downright violent. Against Tom. Since their return to Voyager, that incident had been written off, by the Doctor, by Tom, and Harry tried to tell himself that he hadn't been himself, that it wasn't his fault.

But now Harry was wondering. How much of it had really been due to the clamp? And how much of it was him giving himself permission to be as violent and crazy as the people around him?

And it scared him.

---

Jenny and Megan were asleep, but Tom was wide awake. He was restless and angry with himself.

The Delaneys were really wonderful girls. Funloving and uncomplicated, they had absolutely worn him out. And the whole time he'd been mentally finding fault with them. They were just too small, too soft, their hips too wide, their shoulders too narrow -

He slipped out of the bed and got dressed and tiptoed out. They'd probably be angry with him Tomorrow for sneaking out, fond as they were of early morning play. But this just wasn't working.

---

"So, before your incarceration, you enjoyed sex with men?" The Doctor wasn't sure which direction to go with this therapy, and was casting about for clues.

"Oh, sure," Tom said casually. "On occasion. Anything on two legs, sometimes." He paused and added thoughtfully, "Or four legs, if it was sentient."

Resolutely, the Doctor ignored this red herring. There were no four legged sentients on Voyager.

"Let's stick with humanoids, Mister Paris."

"Oh, all right."

"Tell me about some of your earlier encounters."

Tom got a dreamy look in his eyes, and said, "Julian."

"Julian."

"That's right. At the Academy. A really nice guy. Kind of intellectual, so we weren't really great friends at first - he was all gung-ho about being a doctor, and I thought that was pretty boring. But then when Susie dumped me and I was so bummed out, he was so - nice about it. And he'd listen to me go on and on about how my heart was broken and I'd never get over it, when the other guys were just rolling their eyes and telling me to move on. Then one day he kissed me, and then I REALLY got over it!"

Tom didn't mind talking about Julian, those were some of the few memories that he could look back on with pleasure. Julian had taught him a heck of a lot, and he wickedly detailed some of these instructions to the Doctor, before he realized that the Doctor could not be embarrassed - sort of took the fun out of it.

"And that was that, it was fun but not terribly serious," he said at last. "He went off to more advanced medical training, and I went off to the fleet - " And to disaster and disgrace, he thought, his face clouding slightly.

He left out the next part. About heading out to Voyager and looking forward to some shore leave on Deep Space Nine, a first taste of freedom. Until he'd overheard someone say something about "Doctor Bashir", and realized that Julian, who had always rhapsodized about 'frontier medicine', was on Deep Space Nine.

After that, he'd hidden in his room until almost time to leave, afraid to come face to face with his old friend. Afraid of what Julian might say to him, after all that had happened since their last meeting, afraid especially of what he might see in Julian's eyes - disgust, or even worse, pity.

He finally ventured out right before departure, stopped by a Ferengi bar for a beer before reporting aboard, and met a young ensign just heading to his first assignment.

"So," the Doctor said. "You've compiled quite a list. Tell me, were you in love with any of them?"

Tom looked at the Doctor in surprise. "Love? You don't really believe that stuff, do you, Doc?"

A clue! A clue at last, and time almost up! For once, the Doctor hoped that his next patient, a routine physical, would be inconsiderate of his holographic feelings and show up late this time.

"What I think isn't the point," the Doctor said evenly. "Do you believe in 'that stuff'?"

Tom's answer was a derisive snort. "Get real!" After a pause, he added thoughtfully, "The last time anyone told me he loved me, I wanted to kill him."

Damn! The doors to Sickbay opened, and here was Crewman Foster, right on time.

"I'm afraid that's all we have time for today," the Doctor said with great reluctance. He didn't miss the look of relief on the lieutenant's face.

Tom left Sickbay, thinking he was going to have to be more careful. It really was hard to talk for an hour without saying anything important.

---

Captain Janeway readjusted her backpack with a grimace. Turning to B'Elanna Torres, she said, "I'd feel less resentful about hiking off donuts if only they had been good donuts."

B'Elanna nodded, as she tightened a bootlace. "I keep reminding myself that Neelix does try," she said.

The holodeck was set to public access, and today's program was Alpine Wonderland. The two women had already hiked five kilometers, and told themselves that they only had five more to do.

As they continued up the trail, the Captain said, "You know, when I was stationed at Starbase Fifteen, there was this fabulous little donut shop on the promenade, called Dreemy Creem - "

"Dreemy Creem! There was one of those right down the road from where I grew up!"

"Then you know what I mean."

"The raspberry filling!"

"The vanilla icing!"

The women moaned in unison, and then Torres asked, "I wonder how close the replicator could come to a dreemy creem?"

"Another 5K and we'll find out."

With that goal in mind, they strode out more briskly, until Janeway suddenly halted, and said, "Listen! What's that?"

Torres listened too. It was music, and some of the most hauntingly seductive music they had ever heard. So plaintive, weird, and longing!

They crept forward along the path, until they came to the source of the music. Harry Kim was sitting on a rock, playing his clarinet.

"Harry! That's beautiful!" the Captain exclaimed.

The ensign jumped in surprise and then turned bright pink.

"It really is, Harry," B'Elanna said. "I've never heard it before - who wrote that?"

"Uh, I did," Harry croaked.

"You did?! I never knew you composed." Janeway sat down beside him.

"Oh, I haven't, not for a long time," Harry told her. "But I just got the urge lately. This isn't finished - I think I'm going to have to use the orchestration program to get some more instruments in - "

"What do you call it?" B'Elanna asked.

"F - " Harry stuttered and then said hastily, "Uh, Figures In A Winter Garden."

Janeway could see that the ensign was flustered by their appearance and their curiosity, so she patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Well, it really is lovely, Harry. Please share it with the crew when you're done. Come on, B'Elanna, only four more kilometers to Dreemy Creem!"

The two women hiked away, chanted softly, "Dreemy Creem, Dreemy Creem!"

Harry sat still, looking at the clarinet in his lap, and wondering how crazy he was going. He'd almost told the Captain and B'Elanna that his new musical composition was called "Fucking Tom"!

It had been the incidents during the epidemic that had brought him back to composition, and he knew he was sublimating his heart out, but it wasn't curing the desire, not at all.

Now he was stuck with a really stupid name for the best piece of music he'd ever written. He would need more instrumentation, though - a mere clarinet couldn't do justice to Tom's orgasm.

---

Sandrine's was fairly quiet this evening, just a handful of patrons at the bar, and two men playing pool.

The last ball rolled into the pocket of the pool table, and Tom said, "Ha! Another one for me. Why do you want to keep embarrassing yourself like this, Dalby?"

Crewman Dalby said amiably, "Fuck you!"

Tom looked up, suddenly intent. He smiled slightly. "Okay. Your place or mine?"

---

Harry tossed restlessly, troubled by dreams. Not nightmares, even, but dreams of reality.

Once again, the rancid smell seeped into his nostrils, the odor of sweat and excrement and decay. On his explorations of this hellhole, he'd found where the bodies were stacked, carelessly out of the way, rotting. But the quick glance he'd spared for them told him that the dead here didn't decay normally; there was nothing to the pile but skeletons and a few ragged scraps of flesh, and hungry as he was, he didn't want to think about what that meant.

A heavy weight was dragging him down, and he had nowhere to go and no idea of what to do, and no feeling anymore but an utter sense of failure.

When he'd first arrived here, he'd been so glad to see Tom, knowing that Tom would know what to do, that the two of them together could defend themselves so much better, and that made Tom important. It wasn't till later, when Tom had been injured, becoming as Zio so perceptively said "nothing but a burden", that Harry realized how important Tom was in his own right. Important, and something for Harry to protect, and that was what he was entirely incapable of doing.

---

"You're kidding, right?" Dalby must have said that half a dozen times, but Paris insisted that he wasn't kidding.

"Come on," he'd said. "You want some, or not?"

They were entering Dalby's quarters now, Dalby still half- believing that this was some sort of practical joke, and thinking it would be best to handle the situation on his home turf. But once they entered the room, Paris had simply gone about taking off his clothing with economical dispatch, and now he was face down on the bed.

Dalby wondered what was going on. Hell, he didn't even like Paris, though the guy was a good pool player, and he didn't think Paris liked him either. But looking at the lieutenant, naked and waiting for him, gave him a raging erection, and he thought, why not?

And if he didn't like the guy - well, Dalby knew, better than anyone, that sex made a splendid weapon. Suddenly, he was as angry as he was aroused, remembering that Voyager had been coming to arrest them, and Tom Paris had been recruited to help. And he was shedding his uniform as fast as his shaking hands would permit.

Paris cried out when Dalby slammed into him, and for a moment Dalby was worried, knowing that Paris was actually stronger than him. But the lieutenant didn't struggle, and said nothing, just biting his lip and spreading his legs wider.

Tom clenched his hands into the sheets, thinking that it really had been a long time, if he'd forgotten how to accept this, and consciously relaxed his muscles and raised his hips, certain that this was what he'd been wanting all along.

He wasn't surprised at Dalby's roughness - he hadn't expected him to be gentle. Tom closed his eyes, accepting the pain, and feeling almost peaceful for the first time in weeks.

And when Dalby finished, Tom got up and got dressed, sparing only a glance at the other man's angry bafflement.

On the way out the door, Tom said, "Next time, use a lubricant."

Dalby said to the empty room, "Next time?"

---

The Doctor was frustrated. For the first time, he understood why some humans complained that there weren't enough hours in the day. He'd once heard that complaint with a sense of superiority to the poor biological creatures, forced to waste hours in sleep. But now, even for him, the days were too short.

He was counselling twenty of the crew, and there was just no way to see his patients more than once a week. He had tried, but someone told the Captain about his midnight sessions, and she come down to Sickbay and quietly and firmly put her foot down. No patients were to be scheduled between the hours of 2000 and 0800, except in absolute medical emergencies. So there was half the day he couldn't use.

The Doctor moved all his lab analysis time to the hours when he was forbidden to see patients, but still. People still got sick, still needed physicals, and to have their teeth cleaned, and all the medical minutia that the human doctor should be handling, if he hadn't been so inconsiderate as to get himself killed.

Of course, if the human doctor hadn't been killed, the Emergency Medical Holographic Program wouldn't be acting as a ship's counsellor either. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about it.

Some of his patients turned out to be rather easy. Crewman Geron for instance. He'd sat across from the Doctor for several sessions, scowling and answering questions in brief monosyllables. But then he came in smiling, and told the Doctor that everything was fine now.

Kes told him the rest of the story, about the evening in Sandrine's when the little Bajoran had suddenly pounced on Crewman Ayala, taking the big Maquis by surprise with a passionate kiss. After a moment of stunned silence, Ayala had pulled the teenager into his arms and kissed him back, and then they'd left together. To live happily ever after, the Doctor presumed.

But none of the Doctor's patients were being as aggravating as Lieutenant Paris. He seemed to fight the Doctor every step of the way, determined not to reveal anything. Sometimes, the Doctor just wanted to throw up his hands and say, "Fine, then. Have it your own way. I give up."

Until he remembered what the lieutenant had said during the post- epidemic interview, the thing that had placed him on the counselling list, and probably the most sincere remark the Doctor had ever heard him make: "If only I had died then!"

---

Captain Janeway looked at the viewscreen, peculiarly dark. This was a mighty bleak area of space they were traversing right now. The few stars dribbling past did little to relieve the darkness.

The Captain was actually glad to be in such a sparse region of space. Less chance of running into hostile aliens, or weird spatial anomalies. Maybe this would give them time to get their act together.

Sometimes she couldn't believe it - a quarter of her crew in counselling! It was almost embarrassing. But she reminded herself that both Enterprises that had encountered this virus had been able to fall back on the resources of the entire Federation. The Doctor had shown her Doctor Crusher's notes about the arrival onboard of Star Fleet Medical's Crisis Intervention Team, and how quickly they'd mopped up the psychological aftermath.

Janeway suspected the Doctor was just indicating what a difficult job he'd taken on, a bid for sympathy was not unheard of from him. And she did sympathize, and understood his problems, even though she found him exasperating. What a relief that Chakotay was a trained counsellor!

She'd had an idea the other day, about starting up an arts program on the ship, with training and performances. The idea had met with enthusiastic reception at the staff meeting, and now Ensign Kim was in charge of getting the program off the ground. Young Harry! Who knew the kid was so talented? That tune he'd been playing still ran through her head sometimes.

---

Dalby was sitting in a chair dressed only in a robe when Lieutenant Paris arrived. The lieutenant started to unfasten his uniform, but Dalby said, "Stop."

Tom stopped, puzzled.

"Come over here."

Tom went over to Dalby, and when Dalby reached up and pushed down on his shoulders, he knelt, unresisting. And when Dalby opened his robe, Tom knew exactly what to do.

Dalby looked down in amazement at the bright gold hair, as the lieutenant sucked his penis. The guy was really good at this! But it was the sight that excited Dalby the most - a Star Fleet officer, in uniform, kneeling in front of him - it was too much, and he came almost immediately.

"Now look what you've done!" he exclaimed irritably. "I didn't mean to do that yet!"

"Sorry," Tom said softly, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, well. Go ahead, take off your clothes. We're not through yet."

Tom nodded, and began to undress.

---

The line between waking and dreaming is thin, and Harry slipped over it unnoticing. Until he rolled over, and Tom was beside him. In a heavy sleep, pale, and breathing with difficulty.

"If he doesn't bleed to death, he'll die from infection." Harry remembered Zio's rough and ready diagnosis, and knew it was the truth. And Tom hadn't bled to death, nothing so merciful as that. No, he would die by inches if they couldn't get out of here, and the plan had fallen apart today, since Harry learned that they weren't underground after all, but on a space station.

He'd told Tom he was close to finding a way out, lied to him actually, and now he tried to think of another plan, any other plan, to get them out of this place before Tom died. And Tom grew weaker every hour, and how he was supposed to move him, even if he could think of a way out -

He took Tom's hand, and felt how cold it was. Tom was going to die here, he thought with despair. And then Harry would be alone in this hellish place, unless Voyager finally found him, and then he'd be alone on Voyager. Harry rested his head against Tom's shoulder and let himself cry.

---

"You know, Doc, I've been thinking."

"That's always a good idea." Then the Doctor mentally berated himself for speaking so hastily. This was not the time or the place for sarcasm.

It didn't seem to bother the lieutenant. Perhaps he expected sharp remarks from the Doctor.

"Yeah. I may have given you an unrealistic idea of what prison was like. It wasn't really all THAT bad."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Those stories you told me. Were they lies?"

"No. But still, it could have been a lot worse."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that some of the guys there did have it worse."

"Oh, so you feel you have no right to complain?"

"I don't know. Something like that."

"Hmm. Let's see. As I recall, you've told me about at least four rapes, am I right?"

Tom nodded.

"And that's not so bad."

"Right. See, on the way to the prison, I got to talking to these two guys, Lars and Abner, and Abner had been in before, he was some kind of embezzler I think. And Abner said that N.Z. could get pretty rough if you were on your own, and we ought to stick together. So we did. Got into a lot of fights, but the guys with no alliances had a much worse deal than I did."

Tom told the Doctor a few fight stories, making it all sound quite swashbuckling. The Doctor listened silently, and then concluded, "So you were lucky to have such friends."

"That's right."

"Very well. Now, I'd like to move back, talk about something we were discussing last session." He thought he saw the lieutenant tense up. "We were discussing love, a concept I understand you don't believe in."

Tom nodded cautiously.

"Did you ever believe in it?"

"I guess. Maybe. When I was a kid."

"What changed your mind?"

"Life. Growing up. You know."

"I don't know. Remember, I never grew up, you might say I don't have a life. You'll have to explain a little more fully, I think."

Silence.

"Okay, try this. You said that the last person who told you he loved you, you wanted to kill him. Why was that?"

"Did I say that?"

"You most certainly did. What were you referring to?"

Long pause. "I must have been thinking about Susie, I guess."

"You said 'him'," the Doctor said with a frown.

"Well, I can't help that - you'd been grilling me about all this sex with men stuff, it was a slip of the tongue."

The Doctor didn't believe him, but continued anyway. "So why did you want to kill her when she told you she loved you?"

"Oh, I didn't then. It was only later, when she dumped me - I guess she changed her mind. Made me mad."

"You didn't hurt her, did you?"

Tom looked at him in astonishment. "Of course not!" He was getting uncomfortable, because he hadn't been referring to Susie at all the last session, and now he was lying and making it up as he went along.

The human and the hologram continued their verbal sparring until the session was over, leaving them both frustrated and irritable.

---

Tom was trying to sleep, and not having much luck. Weeks since the epidemic, and as near as he could tell, everyone else pretty much was back to normal.

Maybe no one else was quite as screwed up as he was.

He remembered the Doctor saying, "You were lucky to have such friends." That's right, Tom told himself firmly. I was lucky, I really was, it would have been a lot worse otherwise.

He'd first met them in a holding cell at the courthouse, with a bunch of other convicts awaiting transport. Several of the old timers were discussing prisons, speculating on where they were going to go.

Tom sat on a hard bench, beside a big young man named Lars. Lars seemed to have a perpetually bewildered look. Not too long ago, he'd just been a farmer, and hadn't wanted to be anything but a farmer. But then a treaty that he didn't understand had turned his life upside down, and now here he was convicted of treason, just for trying to protect his farm.

A scary-looking guy across from Tom said to the room in general, "Just so long as it's not Montpelier."

"Why?" Lars asked hesitantly. "What's wrong with Montpelier?"

Abner, a middle-aged and completely nondescript little man, snickered and said, "Nothing. As long as you don't mind doing your laundry on a washboard."

Someone on the other side of the room asked, "What's a washboard?" But everyone ignored him.

Tom wondered why the name sounded so familiar to him, and then exclaimed, "Montpelier! That's where they had the riots!"

Abner nodded. "That's right, kid. Almost twenty years ago."

Tom remembered hearing about it on the news. Scores of prisoners dead, not to mention almost a dozen guards, and the prisoners had some computer and electronic experts among them, which enabled them to shut down most of the security systems, and turn some of the others against the authorities. Some time after the riots, the prison at Montpelier had gone completely low-tech.

It was a famous anachronism now, with the prisoners living almost a medieval existence. No one wanted to go to Montpelier.

"New Zealand wouldn't be so bad," came a voice from the corner. "I hear things are pretty loose there, if you know how to cut deals."

The scary-looking guy nodded. "Yeah, I'm hoping for N.Z., myself. Find myself a cute little honey and settle down."

"Lotta fights, there, though," said a voice from behind Tom. "I'd take Warsaw, if they were giving us an option. Pretty strict, boring, but you're more likely to live out your sentence. I'm too old for this fighting business."

And when all the sentences were announced, it turned out that Tom, Lars, and Abner were going to New Zealand. On the flight out, Abner suggested an alliance, and the two young men agreed that it would be a good idea.

And it had been a good idea. Not perfect, of course, since they couldn't stick together all the time. But Tom thought things were working out pretty well.

One day, the three men had returned to their cell, just back from the infirmary, and were waiting for lights out. They'd been in another fight, one they had won, and Tom was feeling pretty good about it.

But Abner was leaning back in his chair, looking thoughtful, and finally he said, "We've sure been in a lot of fights. I hadn't expected this many." He looked over at Tom, and said, "This is about you."

"Hey, I didn't start it!" Tom protested.

"I never said you started it," Abner said. "But you're a target. Over half our fights are over you."

Lars was sitting on the top bunk, swinging his legs over the side. "You know, you're right. I'd never thought of that."

Tom looked from one to the other, his two friends, and said, "Well, I can't help it, and I fight for you guys too."

Abner reached over and put his finger under Tom's chin, lifting his face to the light. "But we wouldn't have to fight so much if it wasn't for you. You're just too damn cute."

"So, what are you saying? You calling off the alliance?" Tom was determined not to panic.

"No. Not at all. I just think you owe us. For protecting you." He ran his finger lightly over Tom's cheek, and Tom flinched back.

Tom looked over at Lars, who had jumped down from the bunk, and he could see that Lars was thinking deeply. Finally Lars said, "The other guys think we're getting it already. Some guy in the chow line asked me if Paris was really good, and I said I didn't know. He laughed."

Tom looked back over to Abner, wondering if he could talk them out of this. Abner said softly, "Hey, it's not as if we'd hurt you or anything. We'd be careful. We're friends here, right?"

Lars was behind Tom now, with his hands on Tom's shoulders, and he said, "Of course we wouldn't hurt you, Tom."

There was no way out of this. Tom's shoulders slumped, and he mumbled, "All right."

Abner got up, saying to Lars, "Me first - it was my idea."

And that became the new terms of the alliance, paying Abner and Lars for their protection. They were telling the truth when they said they wouldn't hurt Tom. They didn't hurt him, physically. Tom kept telling himself to be grateful they didn't hurt him, and pushed the betrayal to the back of his mind, until gradually he had almost convinced himself that this had been the deal all along.

---

Several days later, Tom was in Dalby's bed, waiting. He thought this was really working out, not seeing Harry so much, trying not to think about him so much. No need for Tom to corrupt the kid, there were plenty of lowlifes in the galaxy willing to give Tom what he apparently needed.

Actually, there were even more than Tom realized.

The door finally opened, but Tom heard more than one set of footsteps.

"Hey, Paris," Dalby said softly. "I invited some guys over."

Tom looked over his shoulder at Dalby and his friends. There were four of them.


Tom staggered a bit as he entered his quarters. 'Now, that's what I call a workout!' he thought with satisfaction. Nice of the guys to let him come a couple times.

He'd done everything he'd been told to do, cooperating fully in his own degradation in exchange for a few blinding moments of pleasure. And the knowledge that he would leave Dalby's quarters thoroughly exhausted, and surely, surely tonight at least he wouldn't dream.

But he did, though.


Dammit, Lars wanted to cuddle again.

Tom sighed and rolled over, letting Lars snuggle up against him. At least Abner wasn't kidding himself. He knew what the deal was, and what was being traded. But Lars, the bonehead, seemed to think that he and Tom had some sort of relationship!

Lars raised himself up on his elbow and smiled at Tom. He stroked Tom's cheek gently, and whispered, softly so that Abner wouldn't hear him, "You're just so pretty, Tom. I really do love you."

For an instant, Tom felt a surge of burning fury, and was almost overwhelmed by the urge to scream - 'If you loved me you wouldn't make me do this!'

But he choked it back, like he choked back most of his emotions these days. He was feeling that anger again, the anger of being betrayed by his friends, and it gnawed at him, and he knew it could only hurt him, so he pushed it back down, telling himself once again that he was really lucky, that Abner and Lars didn't hurt him, and he was a lot safer than he'd be without them.

And, looking at Lars, he was surprised to feel something that felt a lot like pity. He finally understood how Susie Crabtree must have felt, being followed around by the teenage cadet Tom Paris even after she'd dumped him, and him insisting that he really did love her and was she sure, absolutely SURE, that she didn't love him back? No wonder she'd looked so exasperated, and finally told him she never wanted to see him again!

Tom had grown up, and he knew better now, but apparently Lars had never been clued in. If Tom had any lingering belief in the existence of love, this would have killed it, this dimwitted young farmer thinking that love was what he had here, with his prison whore who was trading his ass for protection.

But when you believed it, it really could hurt, Tom thought, remembering his teenaged self. So he put his arms around Lars and pulled him close. He couldn't make himself say it, but if Lars wanted to believe it, Tom wouldn't contradict him.

---

Harry was busier these days than he'd been in a long time, and he was glad of it, since it gave him less time to think. And when he put in a full shift at Ops and then ran around working on the arts project all evening, he was less likely to have those prison dreams.

Or maybe just less likely to remember them, since he woke up some mornings feeling so hopeless and depressed.

He'd decided that the first production of The Voyager Players would be 'Arsenic and Old Lace'. Harry remembered that when you got total amateurs on a stage, once they got over their initial terror of being on a stage, their first instinct was to overact like crazy. But with this production, that would be okay. Overacting was fine.

He wasn't seeing much of Tom lately. The few evenings he'd been free, he'd gone by Sandrine's, but Tom wasn't often there anymore. At lunch last week, he'd asked Tom what he'd been up to lately. Come to think of it, the first time in a while he'd asked Tom about anything - he'd been so busy talking about his own stuff. But Tom had just said, "Oh, hangin' around. Partying. You know."

Harry wondered just how hard Tom had been partying - he seemed kind of pale, with dark smudges under his eyes. He was about to ask, but just then Donna Henley had come up to the table, insisting that Harry listen to her ideas about set design, and Tom had finished eating and left.

Harry had talked Commander Chakotay into taking the part of Uncle Teddy, and the Captain was still trying to decide which aunt she wanted to play, looking over the script at him and saying authoritatively, "But make no mistake about it, Ensign, I WILL get to be mad on stage if it's the last thing I do!" She couldn't decide which aunt had the funniest lines.

He'd tried to talk Tom into playing Mortimer, since he thought that Tom was the best-looking guy on the ship, and would be perfect for the role of Well Known Bachelor Mortimer Brewster. But Tom had just said, "You're kidding, right?"


"Why not the holodeck?" Sue Nicoletti wanted to know. They were in the cargo bay, which Harry was going to convert for the play.

"Because Harry's just an old-fashioned kind of guy," Donna Henley said.

Harry tried not to glare at her, but he was a bit peeved that she'd managed to come along.

He had decided recently that the best thing for Tom would be to get himself a nice girl and settle down, that ought to take care of the late-night partying that seemed to be wearing his friend down. And maybe if Tom was settled down, those fantasies would go away, about Tom and the virus and how wonderful it had felt to hold him and kiss him, so cherishing.

And he knew that Tom was interested in Sue, so he thought he could do a little matchmaking, and had recruited Sue to be his stage manager.

They were supposed to be talking about the logistics, of stages and props and seating, and he'd thought that maybe later he could work around to a personal conversation, and see what Sue thought about Tom.

But here was Donna, with her pet theory about set design, which she called Neo Post-Retroism, claiming it was all the rage on Alvida Five. She said the set should make a Statement, but from the little that Harry understood of her latest craze, he rather thought that he didn't want HIS set to be making this statement at all.

"Look, Donna," he said wearily. "It's going to be Victorian. Used, old, shabby-genteel Victorian."

Donna looked interested. "Hmm! The Irony of Realism! You know, it just might work."

Well, he wasn't going to be able to shake Donna. But the three of them discussed seats and lighting, and that shaded over into general conversation, until Sue, who thought of Harry as a very sweet younger brother, said something about the difficulty of getting a decent date on this ship.

Aha! An opening! Harry said casually, "Well, what about Tom Paris? He likes you."

But Sue just rolled her eyes. "Oh, SERiously, Harry!"

And Donna said, "Yeah, Harry! Come on, Sue here is a classy lady. Why would she want to have anything to do with a slut like Tom Paris?"

Harry looked at them in surprise. "Oh, hey, he's not THAT bad!"

Sue leaned over and patted his hand. Harry jerked his hand back - he hated being patronized. Sue said kindly, "Look, Harry, I know he's your friend, but honestly - that SICK thing he's got going on with Dalby - !"

"Dalby?" Harry protested. "Come on, Tom doesn't even like Dalby!"

"Like I said, sick," Sue said dismissively.

"Well, it's not just Dalby," Donna said mysteriously. "There's a lot more to it than that!"

Sue looked interested. Here was some new gossip she hadn't heard yet. "What do you mean?"

"Just that Dalby likes to share with his friends," Donna said. She lowered her voice impressively, causing them to lean toward her. "I heard, from someone who was THERE, that Dalby decided to invite some buddies along a couple weeks ago. Guess he'd never even bothered checking with Paris, 'cause this guy who was there said that he thought Paris looked a little surprised when they came in, but then he just laughed and said, 'Hey, the more the merrier.'"


Harry was never sure how he managed to finish that conversation and get out of the cargo bay. But he did get away from Sue and Donna, and hurried to Tom's quarters.

Tom wasn't there. A computer query told him that Tom was down in the enlisted quarters. It was close to midnight.

Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to go storming down to Dalby's quarters, and pull Tom out of there, away from those guys. But he was afraid to. Afraid that Tom would laugh at him, would ask him what the problem was, would tell him to get lost.

He slumped down onto the sofa, remembering sitting here, kissing Tom. Those memories, so precious even though they made him feel guilty. He closed his eyes, remembering Tom whisper in his ear, "I want you inside me." And how special and unique and cherished he had felt then.

Harry clenched his hands together, glad that Tom wasn't here right now, because he wanted to hit him. He was so worried, he felt so sick, he felt so angry.

His eyes closed.


No way out. There had to be a way out, and he would find it, and if none of these crazies would help him, if they were too stupid to work together, he'd do it himself.

But when he got back to the hut, there was Tom, dismantling Harry's work, all the hours he'd put in to route around the force field, and Harry just watched him, stunned. That was their last, faint and futile hope of getting out of here, and Tom had just ruined it.

And then Tom looked at him without a glimmer of recognition, and said, "Stay back!"

Harry lost it, he totally went berserk - he just felt so hopeless, so angry, at himself, but most of all at Tom - Tom, so long in dying and still not dead, seeming to be hanging on just to mock Harry with his own ineffectualness, to wear him out and drag him down. He started hitting Tom, as hard as he could, and he couldn't stop, he was just so tired of it all, he just wished Tom would die, he wanted to die -

- but a faint glimmer of sanity reached him through the veil and he looked down, and it was Tom, TOM that he was hitting, and even if Tom didn't recognize Harry, Harry still recognized him, and he froze in horror, hearing Zio say, "Go ahead, finish him."

Harry scrambled out of the hut as quickly as he could, but Zio wouldn't let him alone, following him to tell him how much easier things would be if only Tom were gone, and he held out a knife, saying persuasively, "Think what a relief it would be - "

But what made Harry take the knife was the thought, 'Think what a MERCY it would be - '.

---

Tom entered his quarters, unsteady on his feet, wondering where Dalby had got ahold of real brandy.

But he was jolted back almost to sobriety when he saw Harry asleep on his sofa. He felt the yearning again, and thought with despair, I haven't been punished enough.

He didn't know how much more he could take, but it wasn't enough, because there was Harry, his dear friend, the sweet, beautiful, innocent boy, and he still wanted him, wanted to hold him and - love - him, so he hadn't been punished enough.


Harry woke with a jolt, as Tom bumped into the desk, and he sat up and blinked in the light, so different from the dingy prison he'd just left. He saw Tom, saw the trapped, hopeless look in his eyes, and still felt the echo of his dream, '- so long in dying and still not dead - '

And heard Zio's voice again - "He's too far gone to be your friend."

Harry shook himself angrily, wondering why he was still listening to that lunatic with a manifesto, like he was some sort of prophet or something.

"Tom," he said softly. "What are you doing?"

Tom shrugged. "Just - y'know. Partying. Having a good time."

But his eyes said something different, so wounded.

Tom thought he felt something dying inside, trying to talk with Harry, just back from them. There'd been six of them tonight and they'd all wanted more than one turn, but he hadn't been able to forget Harry tonight, not for a moment, it just wasn't working and he couldn't take it anymore.

A tear trickled down from his eye, and Harry was instantly beside him, putting his arm around him, remembering what a burden this had once been, before he realized - that it wasn't.

That had been the secret of the Akritirian prison, when he finally realized that just because he couldn't save Tom didn't mean that he had to survive him, and suddenly everything had become so simple.

"Tom, you've got to stop this," Harry said firmly, and Tom nodded weakly.

"I just can't - not anymore - " Tom whispered, and his breath was a nauseating mixture that Harry finally identified as brandy and semen.

Harry helped his friend into the bathroom, and got him undressed and under the shower, and Tom went along compliantly.

Harry felt a momentary nostalgia for the epidemic, remembering Tom in the shower, giddy and playful, and compared that to this passive creature letting the water run over him. Whatever that virus had awakened in Tom, Harry wanted it back.

He carefully washed his friend, and then dried him, as gently as he could, since Tom's body was a battlefield of scratches and bruises. Some of the bruises were fresh, but many were yellow with age. So this was nothing new, Tom had accepted this treatment and gone back for more.

Harry wrapped Tom in a fleecy robe and led him back out to the front room, where they settled down on the sofa, Tom curled up on his side with his head in Harry's lap. Harry gently stroked his friend's hair, and wondered what to do.

"Tom? Why are you doing this?"

"It feels good - some of it - " Tom sighed. There was a long pause. Finally Tom said, "And when they're on top, I can close my eyes, and pretend - "

"Yes?"

"Pretend they're you," Tom mumbled.

What Harry felt was a strange mixture of astonishment and anger. "You're saying you go to a bunch of guys that treat you like THIS, and pretend it's ME?!"

"But they at least touch me," Tom whispered.

"Oh, god, Tom!" Harry tightened his arms around his friend. "I'm touching you now, aren't I? Well, I'll touch you any way you want if you'll promise you won't go there anymore."

Tom nodded.

Harry got Tom tucked into bed, and Tom reached out and grabbed his hand. "Don't leave me," Tom said, and Harry felt a jolt of recognition.

He stroked Tom's face gently, and said, "Of course I won't leave you, Tom." He almost said that everything would be okay, but the last time he'd said that, he'd been lying. So he just slipped out of his clothes and into Tom's bed, and pulled Tom into his arms.

Tom settled peacefully into Harry's arms, and closed his eyes. Harry stroked Tom's hair and remembered the last time he'd been here, and how embarrassed he'd been when he woke up. He wondered why, now -it felt like he belonged here.

---

Tom woke up the next morning feeling good, for the first time since - well, in a long time. He felt warm, and realized that he was not alone.

He lifted his head, and saw Harry, still sleeping, and smiled, thinking again - not alone.

This was more than he could ever have hoped for. But he'd have to be careful. Don't trail him around like a sick puppy, Tom told himself, that sure didn't work with Susie.

He's my friend, Tom thought in wonder, my best friend. He gently stroked Harry's cheek.

Harry woke up and smiled. "Morning."

"Morning, gorgeous." Tom hesitated, then leaned down and kissed Harry on the lips. He was relieved when Harry wrapped his arms around him, and enthusiastically kissed him back.

After a moment, Harry pulled away. "Hey, we don't have time for this to get really interesting! Can I have a rain check?"

Tom chuckled. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Some more of this, I hope!"

"Okay, it's a date."

---

Tom was in the mess hall, selecting his breakfast, wishing that Neelix would serve something that at least looked familiar, when Dalby came over to him.

"Hey, Paris, me and some of the guys are having a party Tomorrow night - "

Over by the coffee pot, Harry saw Dalby approach Tom, saw that deadened look return to Tom's eyes. We'll see about this!

Dalby jumped in surprise, as a voice said from over his shoulder said confidently, "Sorry, Dalby."

It was Ensign Kim. Of all people.

"Huh?"

"Tom will be busy, Tomorrow night, or any night you can think of."

"Says who?"

And now the baby ensign was crowding him! And suddenly Dalby noticed that the kid was bigger than he'd realized. And that he looked stronger than he'd realized. And right now, he was actually looking - kind of mean!

Harry said softly, "Sorry." But he didn't sound sorry at all.

Dalby backed off. "Sure." He laughed and said, "Hey, he's all yours."

Harry absorbed that, and savored it. All mine! As Dalby turned to go, he said, "Hey, Dalby?"

"Yeah?"

"See that that word gets out, would you?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say. Sir."

Harry stared after Dalby, feeling pretty good about the situation. Tom murmured in his ear, "My hero."

Harry turned, and smiled at Tom. "Hell, Tom, if you won't disassemble him, can I?"

But his smile faded when Tom said softly, "Oh, just leave it, Harry, he was just doing what I wanted him to do."

The two went over to an isolated table, and Harry said earnestly, "Tom, you need to figure out WHY you wanted him to, why you want to be hurt like that. How are things coming with the Doctor?"

Tom shrugged. "Oh, fine, I guess. But Harry, I KNOW why - I had to be punished for wanting you, for being so dumb as to believe that I could - "

Harry stared at him for a moment. Finally he said, "You'd better get over that before this evening, Tom Paris."

And Tom laughed. A nice, open, honest laugh. It reassured Harry. He can get over this, Harry thought. I'll help him.

---

The Captain sat in the Ready Room, wondering what the Doctor was making such a fuss about. He wanted her to talk to Lieutenant Paris, who had cancelled one session at the last minute, and rescheduled another and then come in late.

"Frankly, Doctor, I'm surprised he's been attending sessions this long. I would have expected you two to have had a personality conflict long before this. Have you considered switching Tom to Commander Chakotay's list?"

"It's not a matter of personality conflict, Captain," the Doctor said positively. "It a matter of resisting, of avoidance of the issue. If you wish to switch him to another therapist, that's fine, but I warn you, it will just be used as an excuse to begin the avoidance all over again."

Janeway wanted to ask 'avoidance of what?', but she knew the Doctor wouldn't tell her.

And it did seem that the Doctor was turning out to be an effective therapist. His counselling list had been cut in half now, as the more well balanced of the crew successfully worked through the issues surfaced by the virus, and several of them had even given her unsolicited testimonials to the Doctor. A surprisingly versatile program.

She said, "I'll see if I can have a talk with him, Doctor," and ended the conversation.

Switching off the computer, she returned to the bridge, taking a long, thoughtful look at her Conning Officer. The other day, she'd thought he looked a bit tired. But today, though he was a bit pale maybe, he seemed in remarkably good spirits, his eyes sparkling.

---

Tom flew the ship, trying not to keep turning around and looking at the Ops station. He was so excited. He kept telling himself, "I've got a date with Harry!"


A date with Tom! Harry was eating his lunch, regretting that the bridge crew's lunch breaks were staggered this week. (Rollins' turn to do the schedule, and the guy has some weird ideas about scheduling.) He wished he could spend an uninterrupted hour looking at Tom. Probably just as well, though, he was getting sufficiently stirred up just thinking about Tom.

'He wants me.' Harry sighed happily. 'I'll be so good to him, so good FOR him - '

"Hey, Star Fleet, wake up!"

Harry jumped, as B'Elanna set her tray down across from him. She grinned at him, and asked, "What quadrant were you visiting, Harry?"

He smiled back. "Oh," he said with attempted airiness, "Other galaxies, other dimensions."

B'Elanna was eating fast, trying to eat and talk at the same time. "Listen, Harry. Come down to Engineering when your shift is over - I've just had a great idea for a new application for transporter technology. It'll be so cool! Think about this. If you route the annular confinement beam through the shield arrays, while remodulating the phase variance - "

Harry interrupted her. "I can't make it tonight, B'Ela," he said, adding unwisely, "I have a date."

Diverted from her new idea, B'Elanna sat up straight, forgetting to chew for a moment. Then she swallowed hastily, and said, "Harry! Who is it?"

Damn! "Never mind, B'Elanna."

"Ooh, ooh! Let me guess! You've been spending an awful lot of time with Sue these days. And Donna keeps trying to horn in, too." B'Elanna frowned thoughtfully. She shook her head. "Not Donna, not at all your type. Or how about - "

Harry leaned over the table, and took her hand. "B'Elanna?"

"Huh?"

"We're friends, right?"

Puzzled, she nodded. "Of course we are."

"So I'm telling you as a friend, if you screw this up for me, I'll never speak to you again. And I'll tell my children and grandchildren not to speak to your children and your grandchildren."

Harry stood up. "Gotta run. Have fun with the transporters." And he left, leaving B'Elanna lost in thought.

Transporters were forgotten for the moment, as she pondered the question WHO? Of course, Harry was her friend, and she wouldn't interfere with his personal life for anything. But a girl could still speculate.

For a moment, she was satisfied with Sue Nicoletti. But then she thought, no Sue's a great girl of course, and she had been spending a lot of time with Harry, and both of them musical.

But still. There was that look on Harry's face. So solemn, and protective. And B'Elanna just couldn't picture Harry getting all protective about calm, sensible, down-to-earth Sue.

Then she remembered the other day, seeing Harry talking to Samantha Wildman, and looking so - kind and gentle.

This was making more sense. Sweet, young, and blonde, Ensign Wildman would bring out the protector in a man, bringing up a baby on her own. And that would explain why Harry didn't say who - since Samantha did have a husband on the other side of the galaxy.

B'Elanna sighed. Well, one day, Sammy and Harry would admit to themselves and each other that their significant others were gone for good. Maybe then, they'd be a little more public.

---

Tom stood in front of his closet, unable to believe that he was actually dithering about what to wear. He'd kicked his boots into the corner, but now everything he owned seemed either too formal or too informal, too prim or too sexy. He thought with amusement, 'I haven't got a THING to wear! Good lord, we're going to take it off, anyway!'

But that thought made him even more paralyzed with indecision. He considered just undressing and getting into bed, but decided that would be a bit blatant for Harry.

Harry! 'I'll touch you any way you want -'! Tom shivered, and decided to just stay in uniform. He wandered around his quarters, aimless and nervous, until the door buzzer sounded.

"Come in."

Harry entered. For a moment the two men stared at one another, and then Tom said, "Hi."

"Hi."

Another pause. Tom added, "I'm feeling all shy, here."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Look, if you think this is a bad idea - "

That finally got Harry moving, and he went over to Tom, and pulled him into his arms, pulling Tom's head down to his. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry, and they kissed for what felt like forever.

Eventually they broke apart, panting, and Tom gasped, "Not such a bad idea after all."

Harry attacked Tom's lips again, and maneuvered them, still kissing, into the bedroom. They were both dizzy by the time they fetched up beside the bed, and leaned against one another.

Tom reached for his uniform fastener, but Harry gently brushed his hands away. "Let me," he whispered, and unzipped the uniform, stroking Tom all over as he eased the jumpsuit off. Tom held still, trying to remember if anyone had ever undressed him since childhood. It felt - so caressing.

Now Harry had unfastened the turtleneck, and slid his hands up Tom's back, stroking the warm smooth skin as he eased the garment over his friend's head. Tom emerged with his hair ruffled, looking so boyishly charming that Harry laughed, as he pulled Tom back to him and kissed him again.

Then he pushed Tom back onto the bed, shed his own uniform at lightning speed, and pounced on top of Tom. For a long time, the two friends kissed one another, soft long kisses, hard fast kisses, light pecks and deep open-mouthed kisses.

Harry sat up. "Are you over being shy?"

"Think so."

"Me too." Harry quickly shed his briefs, freeing his aching erection, and then reached over to Tom. "May I?" he asked gently.

"Oh, help yourself!" Tom sighed.

Harry eased Tom's briefs off, running his hands gently down Tom's legs, and then moving back up beside him. He frowned for a moment, lightly stroking a particularly vicious bruise on Tom's side, and said sadly, "Pretending they were me?"

"Oh, forget that, Harry, I know - I'm an idiot."

"I wish you'd go to the Doctor - "

"Not for a month's worth of rations!"

Now they were kissing again, and their tongues caressed one another as Harry leaned over Tom, determined to convince him that nobody, but nobody, does it like Harry Kim!

He kissed Tom's throat, and licked it, enjoying the salty taste of Tom's skin, and moving to Tom's ear to kiss and lick, and breathe gently on the sensitive skin.

Tom's eyes were almost closed, feeling Harry, gentle, sensual, passionate Harry. Who would have guessed?

Harry moved down Tom's body, stroking his chest, nuzzling Tom's chest hair, and felt Tom shiver and knew he was enjoying this. He lightly licked a nipple, sucked it into a hard point, and moved to the other. Tom moaned. He ran his hands lightly over Tom's ribcage and hips, and he had to be careful here because of the bruising, and he gently ran his tongue around Tom's navel, as his hand moved further down to cup and hold Tom's balls.

But as his finger brushed Tom's anus, he heard a hiss of pain, and saw that it was reddened and sore. God, he wanted to cry! Instead, he gently kissed Tom's penis, erect and quivering, and took the tip into his mouth.

Tom felt like he was floating above the bed, simply submitting himself to Harry's gentle care, and felt his emotions threaten to drown him. Harry's tongue was moving over his penis now, and Tom smiled slightly, knowing where his friend had learned that.

And now Harry was sucking deeply, taking Tom as far into his mouth as he could, and then retreating to swirl his tongue, repeating the pattern he had learned from Tom. His fingers stroked Tom's balls so lightly, and his mouth, so warm and wet, and sucking so firmly - and Tom was gasping, crying out, arching his back as he shot into his friend's mouth. Harry continued sucking, not letting up until Tom finally collapsed.

Then he moved up the bed, and lay on his side beside Tom, smiling at him. "Was that okay?" he asked.

"Oh, HARRY!" Tom pulled him close.

"I mean, I couldn't get it all the way in. I tried, but it just wouldn't fit - I didn't want to ask you how, and spoil the mood - "

Tom stared at his friend, and saw that Harry looked rather embarrassed. Was the sweet kid apologizing for not knowing how to deep-throat like a prison cocksucker? Tom stroked his face and kissed him hard on the lips. "You don't need to take it all in to drive me insane, buddy."

"Yeah, but you can do it. If there's a trick to it, I want to know!" Harry insisted.

"Actually, it's simple once you've been half-throttled a few times," Tom said, and he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Oh. Tom, I'm sorry."

Tom shook himself. Don't dump all this stuff on Harry, he didn't do it! "Why are you sorry? It sure wasn't your fault." He ran his fingers over Harry's lips and said, "Hey, you want to fuck me?"

"No," Harry said. Seeing the hurt in Tom's eyes, he added, "Not until I can manage to steal a regenerator from somewhere, if you won't go see the Doctor. I'm NOT going to hurt you, Tom." He kissed Tom, and for a long moment, they said nothing, allowing their lips to communicate without words. Then Harry said, "But I'll sure feel insulted if you don't fuck me."

"Well!" Tom said. "You know me - always polite."

"Mmm," Harry agreed lazily. "When you look up 'courtesy' in the dictionary, there's Tom Paris' picture, right there."

"You bet. But first - " Tom rolled over, pinning Harry beneath him. He smiled into Harry's eyes, and said, "First I'm going to kiss you till you come." And fastened his mouth onto Harry's.

Harry thought Tom's remark was hyperbole, until he felt Tom moving against him. Harry was just so hard, and his erection was trapped between them, hot and anxious, and Tom was moving as they kissed.

And, oh could that man kiss! They were kissing frantically now, seizing one another's lips, and Tom's questing tongue invaded Harry's mouth, and his hips were moving so sensuously.

Harry was moving now, positively squirming under his friend, pressing up against him more and more urgently, and the movement became faster and faster, until Harry felt the eruption begin, and he was shouting, and he could see Tom's eyes holding his, so intent, so full of some overwhelming emotion. The dark pulses of pleasure were convulsing his whole body, and Tom held him, tight and secure, until he collapsed limply onto the bed.

Tom held his exhausted friend in his arms, stroking him, kissing him, gently now, and he smiled at Harry sweetly as he stroked his sweaty face. This was - perfect. He was WITH Harry, completely with him, and nothing he'd ever experienced could even begin to approximate this joy. Harry looked so surprised, and so contented, as he gently kissed Tom back, and Tom felt such utter tenderness for this wonderful young man.

He ran his fingertips over Harry's face, and whispered, "May I?"

And Harry whispered back, "Oh, I wish you would!"

Tom moved off of Harry, and Harry rolled over. Now Tom was nipping his shoulders, nuzzling his neck, kissing and licking his Harry, and Harry sighed with pleasure.

Tom found the oil, and began to caress Harry's ass, slipping his finger into the body of his friend, and Harry shivered a bit, and Tom enjoyed his enjoyment. He moved between Harry's legs, and began to enter him, stopping often to kiss and stroke, and make approving wordless sounds.

Harry's eyes were closed, a slight smile on his lips, and Tom was in now, and he slid his arms around Harry, finally admitting to himself that he'd been wrong all along.

Because without question, it was love he was feeling for his best friend, and he might never say it, but he was so thankful to believe in it again.

Now he was sliding in and out of his lover, groaning with pleasure, biting his lip to keep from saying it, and his Harry moved beneath him, and it was perfect. A tear slid down his face and he leaned down to gently bite Harry's neck, and he whispered, "Harry! - this is - so good!"

Harry gasped a small sound of agreement.

They were moving faster now, as the urgency mounted, and the pleasure mounted, and the connection became more real, more intense, and the sounds they made grew louder, and all Harry could say was Tom's name.

Tom felt dizzy to hear his name, called out in ecstasy from his Harry's lips, and he knew Harry was close, so close, and he wanted to feel it. So he reach around Harry's hip to grasp his friend's erection, and at his touch, Harry exploded, screaming.

And Tom was just an instant behind.

They lay together panting, and finally Harry said weakly, "Whoa! That was jeez, Tom!"

Tom chuckled, and rolled off Harry's back, pulling Harry into his arms. "No fluid conduits through these walls, thank goodness. You sure are noisy, buddy."

Harry snickered, and after a moment raised his head, his eyes sparkling. "Hey, we should spend the night in MY quarters some time - let's REALLY give Batehart something to complain about!"

Too tired to clean up, they just lay in one another's arms, and Harry quickly drifted off to sleep.

Tom stayed awake longer, stroking his lover's hair, savoring the feeling of love. However long it lasts will be enough, he told himself sternly.

It had to be.

He would love Harry forever, but cherished no illusions that he would be permitted to be Harry's lover that long. The kid's what, twenty-three? In a few years, he'd probably start thinking about settling down, and however much opposites may attract, it was Tom's experience that people found mates from similar backgrounds, with similar interests.

Tom the film buff remembered an ancient movie about a young man and a more experienced lover, and remembered that the first time he saw it, even as a very young man, he'd felt a twinge of sympathy for Mrs. Robinson. Never expected to play the role himself.

He reminded himself again, however long it lasts will be enough. He would be grateful for the privilege of loving Harry. It might even last as long as a year, he thought hopefully, if you don't get all broody and possessive and weird.

And he too drifted off to sleep.

---

At breakfast in the mess hall, B'Elanna looked around and felt a bit miffed. Harry and Tom were sitting over by the window, and Harry was leaning over the table, talking to Tom, his eyes sparkling. So Tom gets to hear about the date, she thought resentfully.

She went over and joined them. "So. How's everything this morning?"

"Oh, fine, B'Elanna," Tom said sincerely.

"Just great," Harry said. He looked a bit self-conscious. B'Elanna thought, he must have Got Some last night..

Harry resolutely steered the conversation to B'Elanna's new idea about the transporters. He wanted to shield Tom from her scrutiny, and worried about this relationship, not wanting to expose it yet to the harsh glare of public interest.

He'll feel less fragile pretty soon, Harry thought hopefully. If I just take care of him, and make him feel cared for, everything will be fine. He got dreamy-eyed at the prospect of taking care of Tom, and lost the thread of the conversation.

Suddenly he realized there was a lull in the conversation, and both Tom and B'Elanna were staring at him. B'Elanna laughed, and said, "Well, I won't make you take a quiz on what we've been talking about. Come on, guys, duty calls."

And they headed for work.


In the turbolift, Tom said, "You know, this relationship does have one drawback."

Puzzled, and a bit worried, Harry asked, "What's that?"

"Just that I'll never again be able to see you playing the clarinet without getting a hard-on."

Harry was still howling with laughter when the turbolift delivered them to the bridge.

Captain Janeway turned at the sound, and there was her Ops Officer, crowing helplessly, while her Conning Officer watched him with a smug smile.

"Do you have a joke you'd like to share with the rest of the bridge crew, Mister Paris?"

She was astonished when Lieutenant Paris blushed like a convent schoolgirl.

"No ma'am," Tom stammered. "It's - uh - not really for mixed company."

"Very well, then." Janeway tried to look stern. "You may take your posts."

The two officers slunk to their duty stations.

"Now then," she turned to Neelix, who was seated beside her. "What can you tell us about these Tilendi, Mister Neelix?"

"Wonderful people, Captain," Neelix said. "Simply wonderful. They're great traders, so you should find everything you need in their trading centers. They're technologically advanced for this area, so I don't think you need worry about this Directive of yours. Oh, and SO hospitable! You won't be able to leave without a reception with the governor, I can assure you of that. You humans may find the 14-course banquet a bit tedious, though it's famous throughout this sector. Just make sure everyone has taken a nice nap ahead of time, and everything should be fine."

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged glances. A 14-course banquet! Sounded like a day-long event!

"A nap," Janeway said thoughtfully. "Excellent suggestion, Mister Neelix, but of course we haven't been invited yet."

"Oh, no need to worry about that. You can count on an invitation."

Chakotay said, "We should schedule some shore leave here, Captain, let some more people than the trading party stretch their legs planetside."

"Agreed."

Tom turned to Harry and smiled. Shore leave. Sounded good.

---

The sun was huge and red overhead, but in the shadows of the bazaar the air was tolerable. A large contingent of Voyager's crew was spread throughout the stalls, on a shopping frenzy.

B'Elanna was finally rebelling against Star Fleet decor, and was searching for wall hangings, while Harry examined Tilendi musical instruments. Tom was strolling aimlessly, hands in his pockets, glad to be in civvies for a change. He was just sightseeing, enjoying the smell of alien spices, and B'Elanna grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a stall.

She held out two woven wall hangings. "What do you think?" she demanded, "the red or this blue and green?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "As if you'd actually make a decision based on MY opinion! Give me a break, B'Elanna, which one do you like best?"

"Well, I like the blue and green best," she admitted, "but the red would go better with the stuff that's already there."

"Aha!" Tom nodded wisely. "Then obviously, get the blue and green. Then you've got a lot more shopping to do, to get stuff that goes with IT."

B'Elanna stared at him for a moment. "Tom, have I ever told you you're a genius?" Not waiting for a reply, she hurried over to the stall owner to buy the blue and green wall hanging.

Tom strolled back outside. He saw Harry over by the musical instrument stall, demonstrating Tilendi pipes to Samantha Wildman and her little girl. Tom smiled - he hadn't made faces at little Spike for a while. But as he started to head across the road, B'Elanna came up beside him, and said, "Don't they make a cute couple?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Harry and Sammy!" Tom turned to her in surprise, and she added scrupulously, "Oh, of course, I don't KNOW anything. I'm merely speculating. What-iffing. You know. I just think they look cute together."

"Oh." Tom turned back to look at the two ensigns laughing with the baby, and said thoughtfully, "They really do."

'Don't start getting broody and weird, Paris,' Tom told himself, as he crossed the lane to the musical stall. Harry turned and smiled at him, and the smile made his knees weak.

It wasn't, he told himself, as if there were actually anything between Harry and Sammy. Not yet.

Harry said, "Check this out, Tom, I bought these pipes. A whole row of them - kind of kinky, don't you think?"

"Trying to make your clarinet jealous?"

Trailing behind Tom, B'Elanna thought there were some kind of double entendres going on, but she couldn't figure them out.


Back aboard Voyager, the young officers headed back to their quarters to stow their purchases. Harry and Tom had just left B'Elanna at her quarters, when she called them back. "Hey, guys, come see this!" she exclaimed. She seemed rather angry, Tom thought.

"What is it, B'Ela?"

"This memo!" she said, pointing at her computer screen. "Can you believe it? We've all been ORDERED to take a nap!"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Harry went over to read the memo, and Tom read over his shoulder.

"Like we're in pre-school or something," B'Elanna groused.

"Well, it does say that it's going to be a seven-hour banquet tonight," Tom said, "and that yawning in public is considered unforgivably rude."

B'Elanna was not mollified. "I had some stuff I wanted to get finished in Engineering."

Tom just grinned at her. "Captain's orders, B'Elanna - all officers on the banquet list are to take naps this afternoon."

Harry had finished reading the memo. "Yeah, and look on the bright side. We can't yawn, but belching and farting are perfectly acceptable."

"Really?" Tom asked. "Let me see." He turned back to the computer screen.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, get out of here, you adolescents! I've got a nap to take."

---

Harry entered his quarters and dutifully went to bed. It really felt weird, going to bed in the middle of the afternoon. And on Captain's orders, no less!

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Tom crept in. He shed his robe, and slipped into bed with Harry. Harry turned over and chuckled. "Hey, Tom, we're supposed to be sleeping."

"I'll sleep," Tom said innocently. "Just wanted to sleep with YOU."

Harry pulled Tom into his arms, and said, "All right, then."

This did feel good. Tom snuggled his face into Harry's neck, and Harry stroked his hair. He murmured, "Hey, remind me - on the way back from the banquet, I want to go by the shuttlebay and swipe a regenerator from the away team kits."

Already half asleep, Tom nodded, and said drowsily, "Sure, love."

Now Harry was wide awake. Love. He wanted to sing. Love! He wanted to get up and dance around the room!

He'd finally figured it out. THAT was the inhibition the virus had eliminated! Not anything to do with sex at all. But the ability to feel and express love. He reviewed his memory of the virus, a pleasant occupation, with Tom asleep in his arms, and realized that Tom had not been in any kind of sexual frenzy at all.

Would a man in a sexual frenzy have asked PERMISSION to fuck Harry, would he have asked Harry, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry remembered Tom kissing his thighs, asking softly, "Do you like this?" And remembered how Tom had gasped, "Harry - my dear love - " And Tom in Sickbay, calling him "Harry love".

Harry tightened his arms around his lover, sure that everything would be fine now. Because Tom loved him, and he loved Tom.

---

In the transporter room, Lieutenants Tuvok, Torres, and Nicoletti were waiting with varying degrees of patience, as Harry and Tom entered.

Harry was saying, "I still think a fart should be worth TWO points."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Hey, why don't we set up a sliding scale based on volume, can't have it too simple, now can we?" As they moved to the transporter pads, he turned to B'Elanna. "How about it, B'Ela? Want in on the pool? Most farts and belches wins the pot."

B'Elanna stared at him for a moment, and then turned to Sue Nicoletti. "Tell me something. Do human males EVER grow up?"

Sue sighed. "Sadly, no."

Lieutenant Tuvok quelled them all with a glance, and told the transporter chief, "Energize."

Their party materialized in the central hall of the governor's mansion, where others from Voyager were waiting for them. It was a large group, and they arrived for the 14-course banquet with mingled anticipation and dread.

Chakotay did a nose count, and then told the major-domo that their party had all arrived. This starchy gentleman nodded, and preceded them up the great central staircase leading to the banquet hall.

The Voyager party looked around them with interest. The setting was certainly gaudy enough - the walls were panelled in copper, and adorned with hangings of embossed and painted leather. The Tilendi themselves were quite human-looking humanoids, with the corrugated foreheads that seemed so prevalent in this quadrant. Harry couldn't help wondering if they dyed their hair, as three colors seemed to predominate, a flaming orange-red, a deep purple, and a few in basic shining black.

At the head of the stairs, the upper hall was crowded with Tilendi, all dressed in brightly colored robes, and jeweled chests filled with more robes stood open. The major-domo, with a flourishing bow, invited the Voyager crew to select robes that suited them.

Everyone dived in.

Pulling out a gold cloak, Tom said, "Here you go, Harry."

Harry made a face. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on," Tom whispered persuasively. "You'll look like a young Rajah. You'll drive me quite mad with desire."

Harry laughed. "Well, in that case. . ." He took the robe from Tom and shrugged into it. Then he added with a grin, "But you've got the wrong ethnic group, Tom. Rajahs are Indian, not Korean."

"Oh? Well, shit. Blows that birthday present idea all to hell. I was going to get you one of those gold turbans, with a big old eye-of-the-idol ruby right in the middle."

"The ideal accessory for a casual evening at Sandrine's," Harry said. "I think you've been watching too many of those old movies."

Tom turned Harry to face him, fussing with the hang of the robe, trying to get the broad lapels to lie down properly. Harry did look barbarically splendid in the gold, he thought fondly, when he noticed over Harry's shoulder a Tilendi woman in red looking at Harry's back with narrowed, angry eyes. Then she pulled some kind of implement from her wide sleeve.

Tom grabbed Harry by the shoulders and swung him around. He reached out to push Harry down, intending to push them both behind the chest, but he was too late.

Harry had no idea what was going on. For some reason, Tom had grabbed him, and moved them one-eighty around, and then some sort of weapons fire lanced across the crowded hall, and people were screaming and diving for cover. Tom's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders for just an instant before loosening completely, and his eyes shaded from astonished to blank, as he slipped from Harry's arms to the floor.

A large pool of blood quickly formed beneath him, and Harry stood in shock, unable to move.

The ceremonial guards had seized the woman as soon as the weapon was fired, and she struggled for a moment in their grasp before realizing the futility of further resistance.

Captain Janeway was the first to move. In an instant, she was on her knees beside Tom, taking his hand as she keyed her communicator. "Janeway to Voyager! Medical emergency! Two to beam directly to Sickbay."

An instant later, she and Tom sparkled briefly and were gone, leaving behind only the blood, seeping further out into the carpet. Harry raised his head, still unable to process what had happened.

The woman in red looked at him and screamed.

"You're not! You're not him!"

Oh, merciless heaven! The woman had just shot Tom, aiming for Harry - by MISTAKE?

Harry keyed his communicator with a shaking hand, and managed to say, "Kim to Voyager. One to beam up."


Harry charged out of the turbolift, wondering for a moment why he hadn't thought to have himself beamed directly to Sickbay. Maybe he just had to run.

As he stormed into Sickbay, he saw that Tom was already in the surgical bay, and the surgical bed's wings were up, shielding Tom from his view.

The Doctor was working intently on his patient, and didn't look up, but said impatiently, "No prognosis, we'll be in surgery for hours, I've no time to be tactful, so stay out of my hair."

He looked over to the corner, where Kes was programming a piece of medical equipment. "How are you coming with the tissue replicator, Kes?"

"Just about got - there - Lieutenant Paris' DNA coding has been downloaded." As she spoke, Kes wheeled the surgical tissue replicator over to be closer to the Doctor.

"Start with liver tissue," the Doctor said, and reeled off a great deal of technical specifications that Harry didn't understand.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, staring into the surgical bay. Both the Doctor and Kes were in red surgical scrubs, and they were both wearing surgical masks, even though the Doctor certainly had no need of one. But it was a good thought of the programmers. Masked, the Doctor exuded an air of intense industry, discouraging one from interrupting such a critically busy man.

Harry always had a bad reaction to the sight of surgical scrubs. He'd even made a neurotic fool of himself in the Academy over a simple wisdom tooth extraction. But the sight caused him to flash back to the time in his childhood when he'd accompanied his parents on a medical rescue mission, and now he was shivering uncontrollably, remembering the many fatalities, and the horrific maiming of the survivors.

"Harry!"

He turned at the urgent whisper, and saw that the Captain was in the Doctor's office, watching the situation from the curved window there. He pulled himself together and went to join her.

Janeway clutched his hand and drew him to a chair. "Tom was dead on arrival," she said softly, "but the Doctor got his heart started again, and there is some brain activity. I suppose all we can do is wait."

Harry gulped and nodded. He wished he could just bawl, but this was too horrifying, too frightening to be alleviated by tears. He and the Captain sat in worried silence, broken by an occasional comment.

After about half an hour, Lieutenant Tuvok entered Sickbay. Seeing the Captain in the office, he joined her. "The Tilendi governor extends his most abject apologies, Captain," he told her. "It appears that, while hospitable, the Tilendi are also prone to personal and family vendettas. Unfortunately, from the back Ensign Kim was mistaken for a man responsible for causing the perpetrator's husband to lose out on an important job at the governor's court."

Harry stared at Tuvok in astonishment. This was about a JOB, losing out on a JOB?!

Tuvok continued, "The governor has expressed his willingness to turn the accused over to you for Federation administration of justice, if you wish. Or, alternatively, you may allow his court to handle it."

Janeway nodded wearily, trying to imagine a situation where she would turn one of her people, however guilty, over to an alien justice system without knowing more about it. "I think we should let them handle it, Tuvok."

Tuvok nodded. "That's what I thought you would say. I will inform the governor of your decision." And he departed.

After Tuvok had gone, Harry noticed that he was still wearing the gold 'young Rajah' robe, the one that was supposed to drive Tom quite mad with desire. He removed it, and slung it over the back of the chair.

Then he slumped down into the chair, and leaned back. Finally the tears began to slide down his face.

---

The waiting seemed interminable. Harry and the Captain dozed occasionally, and exchanged stories about Tom. It was like a wake, Harry thought uneasily, and he got up and began to pace the office. Looking out the window into the surgical bay, he whispered, "And I just love him - so much - "

Janeway looked up sharply. This was news to her. Oh, poor Harry, then it was much worse for him than she had realized. She joined him at the window and put her arm around him.

And the waiting continued.

---

The Doctor was right. He was in surgery for hours, five hours and forty seven minutes to be precise.

Finally, he was finished. He turned from the biobed, gave Kes a few sotto voce post-op instructions, and unfastened his surgical mask.

Just as his designers had programmed in to the EMHP an unnecessary surgical mask for major surgery, their attention to detail also included various methods for mask removal. Right now the situation called for the Doctor to unfasten the top tie slowly, and let the masktrail down his chest. Turning from the surgical bed, he headed for the office, letting his shoulders slump, just a fraction less pronounced than the we-lost-him slump.

"Well?" Janeway demanded as the Doctor entered the office.

"He's alive," the Doctor said flatly - the tone said, just barely.

"Prognosis?" she continued.

"Poor." The Doctor rounded his desk and sat down heavily, all part of his non verbal communication algorithm. "Very poor," he added. "Extraordinarily poor."

"You're saying he's not going to make it?" Harry asked, almost breathless with anxiety. It felt like a mailed fist was squeezing his heart. This was a nightmare. Once you got the wounded to Sickbay, that was supposed to fix things, in Harry's experience. But then he remembered the rescue mission of his childhood, the wounded that no treatment could save, and he sat down quickly before his knees gave out.

"I'm saying that the odds of his survival are extraordinarily poor," the Doctor said.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, telling himself, okay, now don't panic. And don't shriek at the Doctor. In his most controlled voice, he said, "All right. Well, what exactly is still wrong with him?"

"The brain activity - what little there is of it - it's just too faint. And it's been too faint for too long. According to my databases, that's a bad sign."

The Captain's voice was like a bucket of ice water. "Explain that, Doctor."

"I'll try," he said. "But there are conflicts within my program. You must understand that my experience is based upon the memory engrams of fifty doctors, and they don't always agree. Sometimes I judge by which doctor had the greatest expertise, and sometimes, well, majority rules."

He thought for a minute and continued. "Mister Paris was dead when he was beamed here. I did get his heart restarted, and there was brain activity. There still is. But it's very faint, almost nonexistent. It's as if he's just - too far away."

"Too far away," the Captain repeated.

"Exactly." The Doctor called up the brain activity screen on his computer, and swivelled the computer screen to face her. The variance from flatline was almost indiscernable.

"Now, there was massive organ and tissue damage," the Doctor went on, "and the reconstruction took hours, while his brain remained at that low ebb. Maybe too long. I don't know." There was a long pause, as the fifty doctors seemed to quarrel within him. Finally he said, almost apologetically, "There really are no hard and fast rules, you know. People who should die survive. People die unexpectedly. But according to all my data, recovery from this low level of brain activity is extraordinarily rare."

Janeway the scientist sought quantitative data. "This level of brain activity. But people have survived from this level before?"

"Yes. A few."

"But - ?"

"But those that survived - " There was another long pause, as the Doctor sorted through his data, and the non-linear opinions of his programmers. "Those that survived apparently had a very strong will to live," he said at last. Part of him couldn't believe how unscientific he was being.

"Are you saying that Lieutenant Paris doesn't?"

"I just don't know whether he does or not. Considering what I know of his life history and his outlook on life, I would suspect not."

"But - why?"

Was frustration a part of the Doctor's program? He cried out, "I don't know! We hadn't gotten that far! You cut my hours, I could only see him once a week, we had just barely begun, and I don't KNOW!"

Harry had been silently following the conversation. But this was too much. "Wait a minute. You're saying Tom WANTS to die? No. That's not true. It can't be." He sounded stunned.

"Oh, no, Mister Kim. I'm not saying that at all. But whether or not he has the necessary will to LIVE, well, that's another matter entirely."

Harry sat down slowly. He remembered thinking - I love him and he loves me, and now everything will be all right.

Was it too late?

A long silence fell in the office. The Doctor had rocked back in his chair and placed his fingers to his forehead. Now he lowered his hands, and turned an angry glare on the Captain. "And by the way, Captain. I wouldn't have thought that I would have to remind you, but Star Fleet regulations require - not recommend, but REQUIRE - that every incident of sexual assault be reported to the Medical Department."

Janeway stared at him in blank astonishment. "Doctor, what are you talking about?"

"You mean, you weren't informed either? Very peculiar. Because it was medically evident that Lieutenant Paris suffered at least one violent sexual assault within the last few days."

Harry wearily raised his hand. "Well, no, Doc. Not really." He almost quailed under the combined stares of the Captain and the Doctor, but continued resolutely. "Tom had gotten into - a rather - uh - unsavory relationship with some of the guys belowdecks. Violent, yeah, but it wasn't involuntary."

Seeing that they continued to stare at him in disbelief, he cried out, "Hey, I just found out about it! He promised he would stop! Everything was going to be fine!"

And then he dropped his head into his hands and began to weep quietly.

The Doctor absorbed this new information. "Perhaps - not surprising," he said at last.

Silence fell. And lasted for a long time. Was it hopeless?

Then Harry raised his head, saying "Hey?"

Janeway and the Doctor looked at him receptively.

"Maybe Tuvok knows!" Harry said.

"Knows what?" the Doctor asked.

"The stuff you say you don't know. Tom's will to live, all that," Harry explained.

Janeway was puzzled. "Tuvok?!"

"Don't you remember? When Tom was convicted of murder by the Baneans, and had those false memories implanted, and Tuvok did that mind meld, so he was actually IN Tom's mind, so maybe he would know. And if we knew, maybe we could - oh, I don't know - do something about it."

But, once summoned, Lieutenant Tuvok claimed ignorance. "I am sorry, Captain, but I regretfully am unaware of the extent of Mister Paris' survival instincts."

Janeway was disappointed. "Oh, but surely, Tuvok - you were right there, in his mind."

"There are many degrees of mind meld," Tuvok told her. He clasped his hands behind his back and prepared to instruct. "When you and I melded, we were searching for what we believed to be a suppressed memory, which might have been anywhere in my memory. Consequently, our search was wide-ranging, and you experienced many facets of my mind and memories. However, in the case of the Banean murder charge, I had one specific goal in mind, to view the implanted Banean memories. I took no side-excursions, and did no exploring. A Vulcan would consider that dishonorable. If there had been a concern, trauma, or neurosis in the forefront of Mister Paris' mind at the time of the meld, I could not have failed to notice it. Any other such trauma would have escaped me entirely. As for basic attitudes, that was quite beyond the purpose of the meld."

Another dead end. Another depressed silence. Again, it was Harry who spoke first. "But, hey, Tuvok - this mind meld. Could you do it with Tom now?"

Tuvok arched a brow. "And ask him if he has a sufficient desire to live?"

"And tell him to come back!" Harry exclaimed. "That we want him to come back! PLEASE, Tuvok!"

Tuvok turned to Janeway. "Captain?"

"It's up to you, Mister Tuvok. Do you think it's safe?"

He nodded gravely. "I think I could perform such a meld with minimal danger to myself."

Ignored too long, the Doctor said, "Well, don't bother asking for my opinion, because you already know it! Risky, unwise - but what do I know, I'm just the most sophisticated piece of software on this ship, with the combined experience of fifty doctors, so what's the point in asking for my opinion, anyway?"

---

Tuvok took a deep breath and looked around, feeling the sun's heat reflected from the red rock wall behind him.

He recognized this place, of course. He'd been here before, when he had bid a final farewell to his grandmother. The Doctor's predictable protests aside, Tuvok saw no reason to be concerned for his own safety. Many Vulcans came to the valley before their final visit.

He walked down the dusty path, smelling the spicy scent of the small stunted trees that lived on such moisture as the valley provided. Eventually, he came to the stream. It was a poor thing, trickling across the rocks, taking its color from them, running a rusty orange.

On the other side of the stream, Lieutenant Paris was seated beneath a tree, lost in thought.

The lieutenant looked up. "Tuvok!"

"Mister Paris." Tuvok nodded gravely. He thought that he had never seen the young human looked so centered, so confident.

Paris grinned at him. "Come to see me off?"

"I have come to see you," Tuvok said, without inflection.

"Well, I'm glad you did." Paris stood and approached the stream. He was serious now. "Please. Tell them to turn off the life support."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Disconnect the life support?"

"Well, yeah. It's just time to move on, don't you think?" The young lieutenant sounded remarkably at ease with the idea, something Tuvok thought unusual for a human.

"Why now?" he asked curiously. "Why is now the time?"

"Now's the perfect time!" Tom said earnestly. "I don't expect to get another chance at such a classy exit."

Tuvok arched a brow. " 'Classy exit'. I'm afraid you're going to have to explain that."

"Well, think about it. From now on, when people talk about Tom Paris, they'll remember that he died saving his friend. I'm not saying that they'll actually forget about the accident, or the treason trial. But it will sort of balance things out, don't you think?"

Tuvok frowned. "Perhaps," he admitted. "And yet, I was sent to ask you to return."

"Sent - by whom?"

"The Captain. And Ensign Kim." He watched the lieutenant's face carefully, and saw the shadow pass over his features.

Tom sighed. "You can see it, can't you?"

"Your love for him?" Tuvok nodded gravely. "Yes. That cannot be hidden here."

"Please, Tuvok. Don't tell him."

"Not tell him? May I ask why not?"

"Because it would only hurt him now, and make it harder for him to get over this. I know that I love him, and that's enough for me. He's only, what, twenty-three? If he remembers me as his best friend, the man who would give his life for him, well, I just think it would be easier for him. He wouldn't have to be responsible - you probably don't realize what a burden it is when someone loves you, and you . . . " Tom stopped and looked away. "I just wish you wouldn't tell him, okay?"

"Very well. And you will not return?"

Tom sighed, but not sadly. "Tuvok, I really don't think I can."

---

"Don't hover about the surgical bay!" the Doctor had said. And so the Captain and Ensign Kim were hovering in the Doctor's office, watching through the window. And the Doctor was hovering with them.

Finally, Tuvok removed his hands from Tom's face, and sat back in the chair and opened his eyes. The watchers hurried out to him.

"Well?" the Captain demanded.

"Well," Tuvok replied. "Lieutenant Paris believes it to be time to move on. He expressed gratitude at the opportunity to make what he referred to as a 'classy exit'."

"A classy exit?!" Harry exclaimed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that he felt that a good death would perhaps compensate for a bad life. That people would remember that he died saving his best friend's life."

There was a long silence.

Finally, Harry said, "Bullshit!"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate, Ensign?"

"I'm saying it's bullshit!" Harry said again. "'Nothing in life so became him as the leaving of it'? Tale of Two Cities Sidney Carton crap - 'tis a far, far better thing I do - ' Well, I'm not buying it, that's not good enough! Not for me!"

"So what do you propose to do about it?" the Doctor asked softly.

"If I could just talk to him - " Harry frowned and thought about it. "Tuvok, could you show me how to do that mind meld business?"

"No," Tuvok said, unequivocally. "I know of only one human in history who was capable of it, and she was strongly telepathic, with the highest psy-scores ever recorded for a human."

The Doctor quickly reviewed his database, and added, "And you psy- scores are little better than average, Mister Kim."

Another silence fell. Then Harry said, "Well, Tuvok - could you mind meld with me and Tom at the same time?"

"A three-way meld?" the Doctor said. "The risk increases exponentially, and surely the rarity of such a procedure - "

But Tuvok interrupted him. "It is actually a fairly common procedure on Vulcan, Doctor. In special circumstances."

"Well, this is a special circumstance!" Harry said eagerly. "Please, Tuvok! If anyone can bring him back, it's me. And - I just can't let him go without telling him . . . without talking to him again."

The Doctor threw up his hands. "Well, I'm going to go register my objections in the medical log, since I'm sure no one here wants to hear it."

But Kes and the Captain helped Tuvok and Harry move another biobed into the surgical bay, and soon Harry was lying on a bed beside Tom's, and Tuvok sat between them.

Several minutes later, the Doctor emerged from his office, looking like a thundercloud. "Captain, I've reviewed the Vulcan cultural files, and identified the special circumstances Mister Tuvok was referring to, and I must state that this is a wholly inappropriate - "

But the Captain raised her hand and shushed him. "Not now, Doctor - they're already in the meld."

"Well, let me know when they're out of the meld," the Doctor snapped, "because I have a few words I'd like to say to him."

---

As they walked down the path, Lieutenant Tuvok said, "I must caution you, Ensign, to remain well behind me."

Harry nodded, looking around. And while Tuvok still saw the stark beauty of a Vulcan valley, Harry was in the Shenandoah, in the fall.

And Tom was on the opposite side of the stream.

Harry's face lit up to see him. Tom was just so strong and healthy here, so beautiful.

Tom looked up in surprise. "Harry!"

Harry smiled. "Hi, Tom."

"Oh, god, it's good to see you," Tom admitted, and the yearning in his face could not be concealed.

"Well, come on back, and you can see me every day," Harry suggested.

Tom shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's just - hard to explain. But thing's are better this way, I really believe that."

"Well, I don't!" Harry said firmly.

And before Tuvok could react, Harry had pushed past the Vulcan headed toward the stream.

"Ensign Kim! Do not - "

But it was too late. Harry leaped the tiny stream and took Tom's hand.

Tom gripped Harry's hand and smiled into the young man's eyes, and then looked across the stream in surprise. "Hey, where did Tuvok go?"

Harry looked back. The path behind him was empty. "I don't know," he said, puzzled.

Then he turned back to Tom. "Look, Tom. What I really came to tell you is that if you don't want to go back, or can't go back, if it just hurts too much well, it's okay."

---

The observers in Sickbay were surprised when, only a few minutes into the mind meld, Lieutenant Tuvok's head snapped back and his eyes jerked open. As they hurried toward him, he slowly and with visible reluctance removed his hands from the faces of the two young men.

Kes called urgently, "Doctor, Ensign Kim!"

As the Doctor hurried to the biobed, Tuvok said, "Doctor, do not touch him. He is still in the meld."

Janeway said, "But - you're not? How is that possible?"

And then she noted the brain activity being recorded above Ensign Kim's biobed. Very faint. Almost nonexistent.

"Ensign Kim - disobeyed instructions," Tuvok said. He was breathing heavily, obviously exhausted. "And he - went too far."

Janeway muttered under her breath, "Oh, shit." In a more normal tone, she asked her Security Officer, "Can he return?"

"Not alone," Tuvok admitted.

"What - ?"

"Either both of them will return, or both of them will die."

The Doctor turned to Tuvok, and tried to control his voice. "If you were a doctor, I'd haul you up on charges," he said.

Tuvok arched an eyebrow, untroubled. "Vulcans believe in allowing people to make their own decisions, Doctor."

---

Tom took Harry's hand and the two men sat down beneath the tree. "That's a relief - to hear you say that, Harry," Tom said finally.

"I mean it, Tom. It's really okay."

Tom smiled at him. "I know you mean it. You can't hide that here."

"But - why, Tom? Why won't you come back?"

"Well - " Tom thought about it for a moment. "If I went back, I'd be going back onto the tightrope."

"Huh?"

"You know - well, I guess maybe you don't. I mean, always wondering when I was going to screw up again."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say. He'd been raised with the belief that he was allowed to make mistakes, but knew that Tom's upbringing had been different. And that Tom's mistakes had been whoppers.

"But really," Tom went on. "This is good, this is better than I could have expected. Not a disease, or some silly accident, but a death that means something, that people will remember - that I can say accomplished something of value."

Harry felt a tear trickle down his nose, and wiped it off, not taking his eyes from Tom.

"And I'll know that you can go on, and have a long, good life, and a family, and I'll have left a real legacy."

Harry shook his head. "Well, no, Tom. It's not going to work that way."

"Why not?" Tom was puzzled.

"Because wherever you're going, I'm going with you," Harry said positively.

---

In Sickbay, the vigil continued. It was now long past midnight, and the ship was deathly quiet. Captain Janeway was well on her way to using a month's worth of replicator rations, all on coffee. The Doctor and Tuvok remained with her, and Kes left for a while, returned with some sandwiches from the galley.

The Doctor had never had much prolonged exposure to Lieutenant Tuvok, and was wondering about his instinctive wish to take the Vulcan down a peg or two. It must come from somewhere in his program, he thought.

The Emergency Medical Holographic Program was not composed entirely of written code, much of his memory was supplied by memory engrams from the fifty doctors whose experiences made up the core of his expertise. Some of the personality traits the Doctor exhibited were deliberately implanted by the programmers, but some had slipped in by way of the memory engrams.

The irascible personality had been a deliberate construct by the programmers. Since the program was designed to be used in emergencies, the programmers felt that a brisk and brusque persona would ensure that the Doctor's instructions would be carried out rapidly and without time- wasting discussion. Since his activation aboard Voyager, he had been endeavoring to develop a manner more suited for a general practitioner, and thought that his efforts had been fairly successful.

But now, the Doctor was surprised to find himself becoming annoyed at Tuvok's calm, unruffled manner, and even more surprised to find himself thinking, "Damn Vulcans." And beyond surprise when his instructions to Kes began to take on a tinge of accent usually associated with the southeastern sector of the North American continent.

"I just don't understand it," the Captain said. "How can two non telepathic humans maintain a telepathic link without assistance from a telepath?"

"Perhaps not entirely surprising," the Doctor told her. "There does seem to be evidence that humans near death experience a strong increase in psy-powers. There are recorded instances of humans appearing to loved ones hundreds of miles or lightyears away at the time of their demise." He frowned for a moment, and added, "But I'm afraid that my database includes no such examples from humans who actually survived a near-death experience."

"Actually, Doctor, I am not entirely pessimistic," Tuvok said calmly. "Earlier, our concern was for the extent of Lieutenant Paris' will to live. However, I think there can be no doubt that he does possess an extremely strong will for Ensign Kim to live. If it is at all possible for them to return, I believe that they will do so."

"If it's at all possible," the Doctor grumbled, and silence fell again.

---

Tom was dismayed by Harry's determination to go with him. "Harry, no!"

"Yes, I am."

"But - you're so young!"

"So are you."

"You can have a GOOD life!"

"So can you."

Tom dropped his eyes. At last he said, "I wish I could believe that."

For a long time, the two young men sat under the tree, holding hands.

"Please, Harry. Go back. If you don't, this will be for nothing."

Harry laughed. He was utterly undisturbed. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "You die for me, then I die for you - we can be the Delta Quadrant's Romeo and Juliet."

Tom couldn't help chuckling at that. "But none of the folks around here would have the class to appreciate it."

"Their loss," Harry said with a shrug.

Another long pause. Tom was thinking deeply. Suddenly, he raised his head, and said in surprise, "This isn't the first time you've made this decision, is it?"

"Huh?"

"The Akritirian prison - "

"Oh. That." Harry asked curiously, "Tom, do you remember much about that?"

"I remember some," Tom said. "But I was delirious, some of what I remember were hallucinations. Do you know - I thought Megan Delaney came into our hut and did an exotic dance? And then stole all our food?"

Harry laughed out loud. "So that's where the food went!" Then his face clouded. "But, do you remember me hitting you?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah. I do. But remember, I was delirious. I thought, 'This lunatic looks just like Harry!'"

Harry bit his lip. "Maybe that's what I was then, a lunatic who looked just like Harry."

"But you ran out of the hut, and then came back a few minutes later, and everything had changed."

"Yeah." Harry took a deep breath, remembering Zio tempting him with the knife - how much easier everything would be if Tom were dead.

"And you know what? I thought that you'd managed to contact Voyager. I was real surprised to read the report later and see that you'd never been in contact with the ship at all."

"You thought I'd contacted the ship? Why?"

"Because you were so - confident. So sure of yourself. And what you said. 'Hang on, Tom, just a little while longer.'"

Harry nodded. He remembered. And he also remembered how calm he'd been then. All decisions made, all bridges burned. Because Zio had kicked him out, since he wouldn't kill his friend, and despite Harry's defiant claim, 'I don't need your protection', he ad known very well that without Zio's protection, they were both going to die.

Tom couldn't even stand then, much less walk, and Harry had dragged him out on a blanket, and Zio just stood in silence and allowed Harry the blanket, surely knowing he would retrieve it soon enough.

Tom said musingly, "And then, out in the central chamber, you knelt down by me when that crowd was closing in, and said, 'It's almost over.'"

Harry squeezed Tom's hand. "So you thought Voyager was on the way?"

"Yeah. But that's not what you meant at all, was it?"

"No."

Tom lifted Harry's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "'This man is my friend - '", he repeated softly. Then he looked up and smiled at Harry. "Do you know? - that was the proudest moment of my life."

There was a long silence.

Finally, Harry asked, "So. Which way are we going?"

"Can't talk you into going back without me?"

"Actually, I don't think I can, Tom."

Tom sighed. "But - " he hesitated, and said, "What if I screw up again?"

"So? You screw up again. Then you go on."

Tom stared at him in astonishment. "You sure make it sound easy."

"It IS easy, Tom. Well, maybe not, but it's not impossible. People are allowed to screw up! Everyone screws up! What, you think the next time you make a mistake, I'll walk out on you?" And then Harry realized that was exactly what Tom thought. He put his arm around his friend. "Well, I won't, Tom. Ever."

Another long silence. Then Harry said, "It's your decision, Tom. And either way, really, it's all right."

The two young men looked thoughtfully down the tiny stream. "What do you suppose is down there?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "We could go see. Or we could go back to Voyager - because one thing's for sure, we'll know what's downstream sooner or later."

"Why, you're a philosopher, Harry!"

"Just a realist. Anyway, whatever's down there, you suppose there's sex?"

Tom laughed out loud. "You do know how to get to me, don't you, buddy?"

"I try."

"Maybe we should go back. For a little while, anyway."

Harry held his breath. Almost. Almost there. "Sure, Tom. If that's what you want."

They stood up. Turned, and looked back up the steep path that Harry had travelled down with Tuvok.

Tom took a step forward, and then stopped. "Harry, I just - don't think I can."

"Sure you can, Tom. Come on, we can go together." Harry took Tom's hand. And Tom took another step.

---

The watchers continued holding vigil over the two biobeds, with the readouts showing the brain activity very faint, almost nonexistent. It was hard to do nothing, but Tuvok insisted that nothing could or should be done, and the Doctor, after an exhaustive search of his databases, reluctantly agreed that the Vulcan was probably right.

It was the Doctor who first noticed the minute change in the readings for Ensign Kim. Suddenly alert, he went to the head of the bed, and studied the monitor. The brain activity readout showed an increase, a slight increase, in activity. The Doctor took out his medical tricorder, and considered stimulants.

"It appears that Ensign Kim is coming out of it," he said, trying not to raise his voice. "Or at least attempting to come out of it. Perhaps if we could somehow terminate the meld, we could at least save one of them."

"You will do no such thing, Doctor," Tuvok said, with impressive calm. "You might restore the auTomatic lower brain functions, but if you interfere with the meld and lose Lieutenant Paris, you would have a survivor in a permanent vegetative state."

Which didn't sound like a desirable outcome, the Doctor had to agree.

Slowly, the readouts on Ensign Kim's biobed crept upward, and the watchers almost held their breath.

And then Kes said urgently, "Doctor!" And turning, they saw that the brain activity readouts for Lieutenant Paris were also on the rise.

"Is he going to make it?" Janeway muttered. "Can he bring Tom back too?" She looked down and realized that she had crossed her fingers on both hands. The Captain uncrossed her fingers, thought about it, and then crossed them again. Couldn't hurt.

And suddenly Tom gave a deep, gasping breath, and sat up, exclaiming, "Harry!"

Faintly from the other bed, "Right here, Tom."

right here

Tom looked surprised, shook his head, and then laughed aloud.

"Why, so you are," he said.

just so

Harry sat up, and smiled over at Tom.

Kes and the Doctor bustled around the two men, taking readings, while Tuvok looked from one man to the other, sensing the faint, almost electric, tingle that told him that the link was unbroken. He raised an eyebrow. It had always been a possibility, he supposed.

"All right," the Doctor said briskly, "Everybody out." Ensign Kim made as if to slide off the biobed, and the Doctor pushed him back, saying testily, "Not YOU!"

He turned to the Captain and Security Officer. "I will be keeping Mister Paris and Mister Kim in Sickbay for observation. Any questions you have for them can wait until morning."

Once, the Captain might have challenged the Doctor, but in the last two years she had grown to trust his expertise - and his heart. "Come on, Tuvok," she said softly.

Kes fussed around the biobeds, fetching and smoothing blankets. "Can I get you anything," she asked Harry. "Juice? Something to help you sleep?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, smiling at her. "Everything's fine now."

---

The next morning, when Kes entered Sickbay, she was alarmed for a moment to see that the biobed where she'd left Ensign Kim was now vacant. But a moment later, she relaxed and smiled, seeing that the bed in the surgical bay had two occupants.

The two young men were wrapped in each other's arms, sleeping peacefully, and Kes was relieved to see that they were still wearing their blue medical gowns, so she wouldn't have to wake them and get them to dress before the day's business began. She should have been preparing the instrument trays for the morning sick call, but stood rooted to the spot, simply enjoying the sight of two beautiful men holding one another.

The swish of the doors made her turn, to see Tuvok entering. Kes smiled at him. "They seem fine this morning," she said.

"So it appears," Tuvok said.

The faint sounds they were making reached Tom, who began to move and stretch on the biobed. In a moment, Harry was waking too. He raised his head and looked at Tom.

"Morning," Harry said.

"Back atcha."

Harry leaned down and gave Tom a light kiss on the lips, and then looked up. "Oh, hi, Kes. Tuvok."

"Good morning," Kes told them with a sunny smile. "You both seem none the worse for wear."

Tom sat up with a groan. "Kind of hard to believe, isn't it? I could have sworn I saw my guts coming out when that lady shot me."

"Nothing the surgical tissue replicator couldn't handle." This came from the Doctor, who had joined the group so silently that no one had noticed his approach or appearance.

He approached the biobed with his usual briskness, medical tricorder in hand. Scanning his two patients, he hmmed and aha'd a few times, more from habit than anything else. Then he snapped the tricorder shut, and said, "Perfectly healthy. Physically, that is. How do you feel?"

"Perfect," Tom said. perfect, Harry

"Never better," Harry added. the best, Tom

Tuvok took a step forward, and said, "Gentlemen, I am picking up indications that the bond that I initiated is still in effect. Am I correct?"

Tom scratched his ear, and admitted, "Sure seems like it." or maybe we're telepathic now. can you hear me, tuvok?

or me? can you hear me?

Tuvok frowned thoughtfully. "I wondered what outcome of bonding two humans would be. I can sense the bond, but cannot comprehend the message. Can you understand one another?"

perfectly

"Yes, I guess we can," Harry said. "And I sort of feel something, like Tom's with me now."

"That's right," Tom said. "Like I'm carrying around a little bit of Harry." and he's perfect

love

"It's - interesting, Tuvok," Harry said, with a rather breathless laugh. "How long does this last?"

"Since the bond outlasted the meld, I would have to conclude that the bond is permanent."

!

!

The Doctor gave a short bark of laughter. "Bonded?" he asked. "According to Vulcan law, they're MARRIED!"

!!

!!

The Doctor had given up trying to track down the memory engram that caused him to want to needle Tuvok. And here came that Southern accent again, and the strange speech patterns. "Y'know, Tuvok, I'm gonna have to start naggin' that lil gal down in Engineering to work harder on the mobile holoemitter project."

Tuvok turned to the Doctor, eyebrow raised. "And why is that, Doctor?"

"Because someday, we're going to get back to the Alpha Quadrant.And you're going to have to explain to the Vulcan High Council why you bonded two human males. And when that day comes, I want to BE there!"

Tuvok looked back at the two human males, who were smiling at one another, and said softly to the Doctor, "I don't think that either of them will file a complaint, do you?"

The Doctor gestured with his head, and he and Tuvok went to the Doctor's office. "Seriously, Tuvok, how can this have happened? I mean, they're not telepathic, either of them."

Tuvok looked out the window and watched the two young humans, still sitting on the bed and smiling into one another's eyes. "Speculation, Doctor. As you pointed out, humans do have a latent psychic ability, which is often stimulated by closeness to death. Both men were close to death, and their emotional closeness is obvious. This could have been what initiated the lifebond."

"Yes, but - they're not close to death now!"

"That is certainly true. But once the latent psychic power was stimulated, and the bond initiated, I conclude that the psychic power would remain active, at least to the extent necessary to maintain the bond."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"This is all speculation, Doctor," Tuvok pointed out. "Remember, this has never happened before."

"Don't I know it," the Doctor grumbled. "Another paper for me to write on still another unique medical issue, and nowhere to submit it."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, the Doctor went on, "You know, Tuvok, when I said I wanted to be there when you explain this to the Vulcan High Council, I meant it. I want to tell them it is my opinion as a physician and therapist that this is the best thing that could have happened to Lieutenant Paris."

Tuvok nodded. "Why, thank you, Doctor. Should the occasion arise, I will certainly avail myself of your testimony."

---

Captain Janeway sat in her chair on the bridge, pondering the therapeutic aspects of Vulcan mind melding. Several months ago, she had participated in a mind meld with Tuvok, and through him had visited the old Starship Excelsior, eighty-five years into the past.

Since that time, she had noticed a slight change in her command style. She seemed now to want to lead away teams, to be on the firing line, no longer content to sit in her Ready Room and wait for the team leader to report back. She rationalized this by telling herself that she had a part- Maquis crew now, and the Maquis would not respect a Captain that 'led from the rear'. And two years' absence from the benign oversight of Star Fleet Command had lessened the influence of the rather stuffy and bureaucratic style that permeated headquarters these days. Still - she couldn't help wondering if that mind-trip to the swashbuckling past might have something to do with it.

What brought the subject to her mind today was her two young officers. Lieutenant Paris had reported for duty blazing like an archangel; it almost hurt to look at him. And Ensign Kim was wearing the mysterious smile of a secretive god.

She was so glad to have them both back.

From the tactical station, Lieutenant Tuvok raised his head. There it was again, that slight flicker of awareness that told him that a bond was present, being tested and enjoyed.

A father himself, Tuvok remembered living in a house with a newly bonded young daughter, still thrilling in her new connection, and too immature to shield her joy from her elders. Communication was taking place on the bridge, an intimate communication between bondmates.

Tom was flying the ship, smiling at the stars, feeling Harry with him and reveling in it, when the message appeared -

hey, Tom. isn't this cool?

Of course, he responded -

you think it's cool now, just wait till we're fucking

Interesting. Tuvok could not discern the content of the communication, but did observe that, though no words had been spoken on the bridge, Ensign Kim had suddenly blushed a rosy pink. He rather suspected that he knew the subject being addressed.

Tuvok was faintly surprised at the indulgence in his mood, as he thought humans!

---

The mess hall was crowded at dinner time, the word having gotten out that the main course was actually fairly palatable this evening. Harry and Tom entered the crowd with B'Elanna, received generous portions of Neelix's Tuna Surprise Casserole, and looked for seats.

They found some empty seats at a table already occupied by the Captain and Lieutenant Tuvok, and sat down to see what Neelix had come up with to approximate tuna.

B'Elanna wanted to grill Tom on his near-death experience. "So, what was it like?" she asked. "The ever-popular long tunnel with a bright light at the end?"

Tom thought for a minute. "It was a river valley," he said finally, "with a little stream that would eventually reach the sea. Something like a stream running into the Columbia, I thought."

B'Elanna was surprised. "That specific?"

But Harry said, "The Columbia? I would have said the Shenandoah. Or the Rapidan."

Tuvok offered, "To me, it appeared as the spring-fed waters that lead to the Sehlat River."

B'Elanna's eyes were wide. "Ooh. You mean it looked different to each of you? That's rather bizarre."

"Since it was entirely a mental construct, why not?" Tuvok asked.

"Hey, Harry," Tom said, "pass me the coa grass, would you?"

Harry picked up the small bowl of the spicy grass, which Neelix dried and chopped and used as a condiment. The humans used it in place of pepper. He passed the bowl over the table to Tom, and their fingers touched.

The two men froze. Harry felt Tom's skin beneath his fingers - and also felt what his fingers felt like to Tom's skin.

Slowly, Tom put down the bowl, and took Harry's hand. And he felt Harry's hand in his, and his hand holding Harry's. Entranced, he reached out with his other hand, and placed it on Harry's cheek.

And felt Harry's cheek beneath his fingers - and how his fingers felt to Harry's cheek.

Not taking his eyes from Tom's, Harry slowly turned his head, and kissed the palm of Tom's hand. Feeling both the palm against his lips, and his lips on the palm.

The other occupants of the table were frozen in place, watching the strangely moving scene. Gradually, silence descended on the crowded, noisy mess hall, and people stopped in midsentence to turn and see what their table mates were staring at.

Tom stood abruptly, and his chair upended behind him, as he gasped, "Why don't we - "

And Harry was on his feet, too, saying only, "Right."

The two young men left the room in a hurry.

A buzz of comment arose at their departure, and Captain Janeway said, "Well!"

B'Elanna loosened her collar with one finger and fanned herself with her napkin, saying with a slight laugh, "Sure got hot in here for a minute!"

The Captain said, "What a relief to hear you say that! I THOUGHT I was too young to be having my first hot flash!"

Tuvok looked at the two women in mild surprise. "I detected no change in the ambient air temperature."

Janeway smiled at him indulgently. "We were referring to the emotional temperature, Tuvok."

"Ah." Tuvok nodded. "On Vulcan, it is a common occurence that the newly bonded have difficulty veiling their emotions."

"Oh, so this is old news to you, I guess," B'Elanna said.

"Not at all," Tuvok admitted, shifting uncomfortable in his chair. "Children on Vulcan are bonded at a pre-pubescent stage. I confess that the combination of a new bond and adult desires is - a rather unsettling experience."

---

As they entered the turbolift, Harry said, "Deck Four," and teasily brushed his hand against Tom's ass. And shivered from the feeling.

Tom laughed and retaliated, turning and zeroing in on Harry's crotch. Both men gasped. Tom could feel it, could feel what Harry was feeling, and he moved his hand slowly, feeling Harry's penis hardening beneath his hand, and how his hand felt to Harry.

He had Harry pressed against the wall of the turbolift now, slowly stroking and squeezing, watching Harry's eyes, enjoying Harry's pleasure, feeling Harry's love.

Harry was almost too dizzy to stand now, moving gently against Tom, feeling his own pleasure reflected back through Tom, watching the brilliant blue eyes that were finally confident and secure, giving love, receiving love -

"Hey!"

Megan Delaney was standing at the open door of the turbolift, as Tom gasped and pulled himself back from his lover. Megan smiled at him. "You taking this turbolift anywhere, or were you just planning on feeling up Harry all evening?"

Tom managed to say, "Deck?"

Megan laughed. "You're on Deck Four. And your quarters are right down that hall, in case you've forgotten."

The two men stumbled out of the turbolift, and Megan entered, almost skipping. She thought it unlikely that either of them would be at Sandrine's this evening, and that it looked like a great night for gossip.


Harry and Tom walked down the hall, maintaining a yard's distance between them.

Tom said, "You know, I don't think we ought to touch one another in public for a while. Not until we've got this under control."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Before you know it, we'd be fucking in the hall."

They were at the door of Tom's quarters now, and Tom turned and pulled Harry roughly into his arms. they did manage to stagger through the doors before they fell to the floor.

Last night, they had fallen quickly to sleep, contented but exhausted from their journey, and the extent of their connection had not quite registered with them. now it was all they could think about, all they could do.

They couldn't even let go long enough to undress, but lay tangled on the floor, kissing one another and feeling both sides of the kiss, stroking and caresssing between muffled laughs.

But the laughter died down, overwhelmed by desire, as they pressed closer together, kissing and licking, moving and moaning, until they came against one another still fully clothed on the floor.

Finally, they broke apart, panting, and Harry said, "think we should hit the showers?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'm going to lick you clean, buddy."

Somehow they got to their feet and made it to the bedroom, their clothing discarded carelessly behind them, and they were naked on the bed, tasting and exploring.

Harry stroked Tom's side gently, feeling the smoothness of Tom's skin, and also Tom's shivering responsiveness to his touch. he was pleased to see that the doctor had cured, not just the horrific blast wounds, but also the bruises from Tom's unfortunate sexual adventures, leaving Tom's body perfectly whole, and perfectly beautiful.

Tom knew that Harry thought he was beautiful, and for the first time felt an uncomplicated joy in the appearance that had made him a target for so many for so long. his beauty pleased his Harry, and that was good.

Their lips met gently, then more greedily, and neither man had to ask the other what he wanted, because each already knew.

you like this

yes

and this

oh, yes!

Wordlessly, Tom pulled away from Harry, moving onto his stomach on the bed, and Harry lay on his back, stroking Tom and gently nibbling and licking his neck and shoulders. he found the oil, and slid an oily finger into Tom's body, and knew what it felt like to Tom, and Tom's desire left him breathless. he stroked his lover with his fingers, and felt him move beneath him, wanting, loving, and the pleasure he felt was almost more than he could bear.

And he knew just the right moment to push into Tom, and Tom pushed back against him eagerly. it was too much, and he felt his sight go dim as he almost passed out from the combined feeling - being inside Tom, the warmth and tightness, and Tom's feeling of holding him inside, being filled, tingling with pleasure.

Harry lay for a moment on Tom's back, adjusting to the combination of feelings, and said faintly, "this is - going to take some getting used to."

"You said it," Tom agreed. "We'll have to get lots of practice."

Harry laughed, and was moving now, in and out, the filling and retreating only to fill again, and the tight hot pleasure surrounded them both, going deeper and deeper, faster and faster until the vast explosion of pleasure took them both, echoing from one to the other and back again, seeming to last a blessed eternity.

They remained locked together, and let the peace steal over them, together, as they belonged.

harry?

yeah, tom?

this is for ever, isn't it?

for ever and ever

love

love

---

"I loved you, so i drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars to earn you freedom, the seven-pillared worthy house, that your eyes might be shining for me when we came."

t. e. lawrence "to s.a."

---

End