Disclaimer: Children, what are you doing in here? Get out of here! It features angst, entertaining graphic sexual descriptions of two men in love doing terribly erotic things to each other, and it’s science fiction. If you don’t like that sort of stuff, or know you are too young for it, I know www.microsoft.com/visualj/ has Visual Java, so you can practice your programming and stay away from all these naughty sites because you’ll be debugging thousands of lines of undocumented spaghetti code instead. Oh, and I don’t own any of these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little storytelling. They are all owned by Paramount, and they wouldn’t have anything to do with this sort of thing if I paid them. And I don’t have any money. I do, however, have an overactive sexual imagination and a good grasp of how to drive a plot home. Oh, dear, that didn’t come out quite right . . . oh, well.
Of course there’s more! Do I look like a sadist? Wait, don’t answer that. Unless you really want to. Remember, send all comments to MaryReilly@yahoo.com. I welcome constructive criticism. And I am a sadist. So don’t flame me unless you are a masochist or have a valid point that you plan to defend. Yeesh, I’m so defensive. Must be one of the other 26 days of my cycle.
Remember, every day on Voyager is an adventure. Unless your last name is Paris; in which case, every day on Voyager is either a nightmare or a set up for a nightmare.
Did I say ‘on?’ Let me correct myself: every fucking day is a nightmare whether I’m on the ship or not. Do you think it just’s me? Nah.
Let’s take today, for instance. We’re under attack. What a surprise, there are so many friendly and cheerful faces in the Delta Quadrant. And most of them want our ship, our women, our whatever.
“Lieutenant Kim, find out if the Vethyians are ready yet!” I know she always seems so calm and collected, but anyone who’s been on the bridge long enough knows that Janeway is The Bitch (like being The Man, only much more dangerous) when we’re at Red Alert status.
It’s not as if we did anything especially unusual. We had stopped at a nice little Class-M planet to trade for food and mineral resources, where we discovered that what the people of this planet really wanted was someone to guard their system for a week at most while they restored their planetary defenses. Which we did, of course. Anything to get away from Neelix and those damned leola roots. No breaking of the Prime Directive, almost no work involved at all. We just sat there, floating in space while their engineers pieced together some old hardware. They didn’t even need our help.
Of course, some bad guys finally showed up, looking to take slaves and food and minerals from the planet we were defending. The bad guys freaked rather unpleasantly at the idea of their pets regaining the planetary defense system. It’s a shame the bad guys were unwilling to talk to a female or anyone who took orders from one; we might have been able to come to some sort of understanding.
So what happens? Despite the fact that they’re outgunned, in slave barges that maneuver like pregnant yaks, and have no shields against Voyager’s weapons (not to mention no pilots worth speaking of), the slavers attacked. The only thing they had were numbers, and we only planned to stay here until the planet below us could take care of itself. We had everything we wanted already. We had fulfilled our side of the bargain.
“Captain, the Vethyians are powering their weapons. Everything seems to be working fine.” Harry reported calmly. Another volley of missiles slammed into the ship. “Damage is minimal. Shields are down to 98%.”
Janeway snarled. “Lieutenant Paris, plot a course out of here, and be ready to go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I pulled up the charts, and worked out the fastest, least dangerous bolt hole. I’d be damned if I was going to give anything less to my beloved Voyager.
Another volley of missiles came streaming towards the ship, and the Vethyians finally fired. They took out two of the slavers on the first try. I got us out of the path of most of the missiles with ease, but I wasn’t planning for the Vethyians to knock one of slave barges right into my way. Still, we could get out of the way if I did a quick flip, and I was in the middle of it when something hit me, and I went flying head over heels, right into the viewscreen, and then sank down to the floor behind the first bank of monitors and the Con.
I was still lying there, feeling very dizzy and nauseous, when I heard Janeway yell, “Get us out of here NOW!” I swear, I felt the ship lurch underneath me as someone took us into warp. I lost my breakfast. I couldn’t believe I was still alive. I felt terrible. Sick, shaky, unbalanced. This is no way to live. I was actually suffering vertigo. I’m a pilot! I don’t get vertigo!
“Stand down from Red Alert. Good job, everyone. Lieutenant, are you all right?”
I tried to stand up, but failed. “Yes, ma’am. I just need to get to Sickbay.”
I know I’m not the ship’s favorite person. Harry isn’t pleased with me this week because I’m fighting with B’Elanna again. But I would have expected someone to offer to help me. Did I not look and sound wretched enough?
“Lieutenant Paris?”
I finally managed to get to my feet, but I had to use the railing to support myself. Everyone was staring at me. I choked down another wave of nausea. “Yes, ma’am?” Janeway’s eyes got even wider. “Is something wrong?”
I made the mistake of looking down at myself, to make sure all the parts were in the right place. Another wave of motion sickness hit me, and I went down hard.
Harry Kim dove forward without thinking. Despite appearances, he felt strongly that this was still a Lieutenant Paris, and that meant that this was still his best friend plummeting to the floor. “I’ll take her to Sickbay, Captain.”
Janeway shook off her shock. “Commander Chakotay will go with you. Mr. Tuvok, I want a full damage report. And I want to know what the hell just happened here.”
So, something weird had happened and Tom Paris had been replaced by what was obviously his female counterpart. Just another day on Voyager, Harry thought to himself. Why was he so surprised? Because the female Tom had long black hair, and beautiful dark eyes? He shook his head and carried the unconscious woman down to Sickbay with Chakotay’s help.
“Why Mr. Kim! What is this?”
“It’s Lieutenant Paris, I think. She passed out on the bridge. Can you figure out what is wrong with her?”
The hologram stared at Harry. The Doctor contemplated asking, but decided that gathering information would be a better way to soothe his curiosity.
A preliminary scan indicated many interesting facts, among them recurring nausea from minor damage to her inner ear, as well as a slight concussion from a very recent head wound. He administered the proper treatments, and then a stimulant to bring her safely to consciousness.
She slowly woke up. “What’s going on? Oh, hello, Doc.”
“Why, hello, Lieutenant Paris. Do you know where you are?” The Doctor’s cheerful voice belied his somber expression, but he managed to hide his shock at having his suspicions borne out.
“On Voyager, I assume.”
The Doctor smiled grimly. “And who are your parents?”
She rolled her eyes, in a genuine Paris expression. “Admiral Eugene Thomas Paris and Yolaine Marie Paris. Doc, I feel fine. Whatever you did fixed whatever was wrong with me, can I go now?”
“And can you tell me your name?”
She sighed. “Lieutenant Jeanette Marie Paris, of the Federation Starship Voyager. Doc, what is going on?”
“Nothing, except our Voyager usually keeps a Thomas Eugene Paris on staff, but I suppose you’ll do.”
“What?” She looked horrified. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the stares of Harry and Chakotay, all in the familiar surroundings of Voyager’s Sickbay.
The Doctor’s report was not particularly edifying. “She appears to be completely identical to our Lieutenant Paris, with of course the obvious exception. If you want to know how she got here, you’ll have to ask someone in Engineering. Some sort of subspace anomaly, I would assume. We seem to run into more than our share of those, don’t we?”
Jeanette’s shock seemed to be focused on Chakotay, although she continued to look around Sickbay from time to time. “I don’t get it,” she murmured softly. “Everything looks the same. I don’t get it.”
“In addition, Lieutenant Paris has a mild concussion and I would recommend that she remain in Sickbay, although perhaps she would be more comfortable in Lieutenant Paris’ quarters.”
“I have my own quarters?” she said softly. She stared at the floor. “That’s...that’s a little different. I’d like to see them.”
“If you will excuse us, Commander, Lieutenant There are a few things I would like to discuss with Lieutenant Paris in private.”
“Of course, Doctor. We’ll be right outside.” The two left after throwing only a few more baffled glances her way.
“Ms. Paris, the crew will be working as hard as possible to return you to your correct continuum. However, while you remain here, I will naturally care for you as best I can.”
“Doc, I don’t want to hear it. I know, I have to take care of myself. C’mon, you know you’ve already given me the lecture.”
“Yes, but there is something missing here. You have no partner to support you, and therefore, I am going to issue you extra replicator rations. I assume that while you are on this Voyager, you will not be on active duty. Nevertheless, in light of your condition, I do request that you avoid any incidents and refrain from any of your normal confrontations. I will not inform the Captain unless it is absolutely necessary, as I hope that everything will be restored to relative normality as soon as possible.”
Jeanette had paled at the beginning of the Doctor’s speech. “So, I’m not imagining things. He- I’m not with anyone here.”
“I am a doctor, Lieutenant Paris. I assume from your lingering glances that you are referring to Commander Chakotay? I understand from the gossip I glean that you- Tom, that is- you have just broken up with B’Elanna Torres, again, but no rumors have reached me about any relationship between you and the Commander.”
“Oh.”
“I must admit, that pairing strikes me as highly unlikely. I can’t imagine how you two could ever work out your differences.” The Doctor had switched into gossip mode.
“I can’t imagine a world where we haven’t.” Jeanette shuddered. “Life without Chakotay- it’s pretty terrible. Believe me, I’ve been there.”
“It would be a curious development on this ship, believe me. Well, I expect Mr. Kim will only be too happy to show you to your quarters. But I expect you to come here immediately if there are any problems.”
“Yeah, Doc, whatever.” Jeanette pushed herself off the table. “Actually, I want to find out how to get back where I belong.”
“Lieutenant Paris, you have to rest. You have just recovered injuries that could have been much worse- for you and your child.”
“Son, Doc. We know it’s a boy. And don’t worry, I’m not losing him.”
“Then go to your quarters and rest. I’m sure Harry and B’Elanna will keep you up to date.”
“Did I really break up with B’Elanna? I thought I was over with that weeks ago.”
“So did the ship, Lieutenant Paris. So did the ship.”
Harry Kim dove forward without thinking. Despite appearances, he felt strongly that this was still a Lieutenant Paris, and that meant that this was still his best friend plummeting to the floor. “I’ll take him to Sickbay, Captain.”
“I’ll go with him,” said Chakotay, knowing Janeway would agree.
“Understood. Mr. Tuvok, I want a full damage report, and I want to know what the hell just happened here.”
So, something weird had happened and Jeanette Paris had been replaced by what was obviously her male counterpart. Just another day on Voyager, Harry thought to himself. Why was he so surprised? Because the male Jeanette had short curly blond hair, and warm blue eyes? He shook his head and carried the unconscious man down to Sickbay with Chakotay’s help. He didn’t want to know what was going through Chakotay’s head right now. The wedding was next week. The baby was due in seven months. And Jeanette had just gone into another continuum.
“Why Mr. Kim! What is this?”
“It’s Lieutenant Paris, I think. He passed out on the bridge. Can you figure out what's wrong with him?”
The hologram stared at Harry. The Doctor contemplated asking, but decided that gathering information would be a better way to soothe his curiosity.
A preliminary scan indicated many interesting facts, among them recurring nausea from minor damage to his inner ear, as well as a concussion from a very recent head wound. He administered the proper treatments, and then a stimulant to bring him safely to consciousness.
He slowly woke up. “What’s going on? Oh, hello, Doc.”
“Why, hello, Lieutenant Paris. Do you know where you are?” The Doctor’s cheerful voice belied his somber expression, but he managed to hide his shock at having his suspicions borne out.
“On Voyager, I assume.”
The Doctor smiled grimly. “And who are your parents?”
He rolled his eyes, in a genuine Paris expression. “Admiral Eugene Thomas Paris and Yolaine Marie Paris. Doc, I feel fine. Whatever you did fixed whatever was wrong with me, can I go now?”
“And can you tell me your name?”
He sighed. “Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, of the Federation Starship Voyager. Doc, what is going on?”
“Nothing, except our Voyager usually keeps a Jeanette Marie Paris on staff, but I suppose you’ll do.”
“What?” His bright blue eyes darted around the room, taking in the stares of Harry and Chakotay, all in the familiar surroundings of Voyager’s Sickbay. Especially Chakotay’s.
The Doctor’s report was not particularly edifying. “He appears to be completely identical to our Lieutenant Paris, with of course the obvious exception. If you want to know how he got here, you’ll have to ask someone in Engineering. Some sort of subspace anomaly, I would assume. We seem to run into more than our share of those, don’t we?”
Chakotay’s face was an unreadable mask, and Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“In addition,” the doctor continued, “Lieutenant Paris has a mild concussion and I would recommend that he remain in Sickbay, although perhaps he would be more comfortable in his own quarters while the crew will be works to restore him to his own continuum, and of course, bring Jeanette back here.”
“If you will excuse us, Commander, Lieutenant. There are a few things I would like to discuss with Lieutenant Paris in private.”
“Of course, Doctor. We’ll be right outside.” The two left after throwing only a few more baffled glances his way.
“Mr. Paris, the crew will be working as hard as possible to return you to your correct continuum. However, while you remain here, I will naturally care for you as best I can.”
“Doc, I don’t want to hear it. I know, I have to take care of myself, get more sleep, the works. C’mon, you know you’ve already given me the lecture.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t seem to have worked very well. I detected residue from a number of different pharmaceutical compounds in your system that I know you should not be taking. I assume that while you are on this Voyager, you will not be on active duty. Nevertheless, in light of your...habits, I do request that you avoid any incidents and refrain from any of your normal confrontations. I will not inform the Captain unless it is absolutely necessary, as I hope that everything will be restored to relative normality as soon as possible. And when you get back to your correct continuum, I suggest that you delete the relevant formulas from your replicator.”
Tom stared at the ceiling.
“And if I could think of a way to warn the other continuum that their pilot is a drug addict and an alcoholic, I would. In the meantime, prepare to suffer withdrawal symptoms. I’ll stave off what I can, but you will have to deal with the rest.”
“Why, thank you, Doctor. How nice of you,” said Tom in his sweetest and most sarcastic voice.
“Mr. Chakotay would probably like to talk to you alone now.”
“Why?”
The Doctor looked surprised. “I’ll let him explain.”
The Doctor let Chakotay in, and then excused himself. Chakotay said nothing. He simply stared at Tom. He had all of Jeanette’s fragile beauty, her expressive face, her graceful bearing, all in a man’s body that did nothing to lessen his need to touch it, to hold it, to soothe the pain and confusion he could read all too clearly on that pale face.
“Is something wrong, Commander?” asked Tom a bit unsteadily. He was starting to feel nauseous again, and the way Chakotay was staring at him was more than unsettling. It was downright scary.
“You look so tired.”
Tom was pretty certain that wasn’t an answer to his question, just a random thought that Chakotay happened to be vocalizing. “Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“The nightmares?”
Tom was derailed. It wasn’t what he said, it was the way he had said it. As if he knew what they were about. Had his counterpart here told him? Told Chakotay? That was absurd. Of all the people on Voyager to trust with a lifetime of pain, why Chakotay?
“Let me take you home to get some rest.” Chakotay walked up, and pulled Tom off the biobed, providing support in an intimate way, knowing exactly how much Tom’s body would weigh, and where Tom would need an arm to lean on or room to move.
“H-home?”
“Jeanette and I are living together. We have been for the last month.”
“Does she call it home?” Tom looked scared, ready to run away screaming, despite the fact that he was trembling, nauseous, and in the wrong time-space continuum.
Chakotay steadied him. “Yes, she does. Come on.”
Tom closed his eyes, and let Chakotay lead him away. He dimly heard the First Officer refuse Harry’s help, instead sending him off to Engineering to help B’Elanna.
It was one thing to constantly fantasize about someone, but finding yourself in an alternate universe where your dreams have somehow come true would knock anyone off-kilter. Add to that a constant underlying feeling of vertigo, and you would have: Tom Paris. Tom decided to take this as clear evidence that the universe really did have it in for him. On one hand it was flattering to think that the universe had nothing better to do than torment you; on the other, a normal life would also have been just fine, thank you very much.
Chakotay practically carried Tom back to his quarters with very little difficulty. Tom allowed himself to rest on the larger man, although he knew better than to hope for anything more. This wasn’t his world, and experience showed that he had no right to expect his dreams to come true.
Sadly, there were many more shocks in store for poor Tom. Jeanette had clearly participated in decorating Chakotay’s quarters. It looked exactly the way Tom would have done it; warm, comfortable, provincial; an elegant melange of Chakotay’s taste and Tom’s memories of his maman. It looked like... home.
Tom would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for Chakotay’s strong arms supporting him. Chakotay picked him up and carried him to the bed. “You need to rest.”
Tom closed his eyes and didn’t answer. Maybe this was all a bad dream.
Chakotay touched his forehead. “You’re cold!” He pulled off Tom’s boots and pulled a blanket over him. Tom snuggled instinctively into the bed, trying to get warm and convince the world to stay still. Chakotay watched until Tom fell asleep, then went to the living room to call the Captain.
Too many! Too many, hands holding me down, I can’t fight them!
Tom’s screams subsided as he realized someone was holding him gently, rocking him back and forth, whispering soothing words. Chakotay. When the screams died, the crying started, and Chakotay didn’t seem at all surprised. He continued to hold Tom, not too tightly, and kissed him on the forehead. Tom moaned at that, and not understanding why, Chakotay experimentally kissed him again, tilting Tom’s head up to kiss him on the lips. Tom drew his arms out from under the blanket to pull Chakotay closer and kissed him hungrily.
Chakotay’s breath caught in his throat. This was so much like kissing his fiancee, and yet so different. For one thing, Tom was a better kisser. Chakotay allowed himself to be swept away by the passion burning through Tom, and leaned down so that Tom could relax into the bed. Their tongues danced together, and Chakotay ran his hands down Tom’s slender body, noting all the differences between this Paris and his Paris. His hand lingered between Tom’s legs, stroking the hardness he found there.
Tom suddenly gasped and pulled away. “Why did you do that? Why did you just kiss me?”
“You have my lover’s sadness in your eyes. I wanted to take it away.”
“I’m not your lover,” said Tom bitterly. “And I don’t feel like competing with myself, if that’s okay.”
Chakotay smiled sadly. “I understand. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “The Doctor sent over some medication for you.” Chakotay went into the living room to pick up the two hyposprays, then returned and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Yippee,” groused Tom. He barely looked at them before administering them to himself. He was still dizzy and tired, and now upset and confused as well. The medication helped a little, and Tom decided to risk a quick trip to the bathroom.
“Need any help?” Chakotay offered.
“No, I’m all right,” Tom replied. Tom managed, barely. He groggily realized that it was about 2340. “Do you have anything I could wear to bed?” he called out from the bathroom.
Me? Chakotay thought wistfully. “I’ll find you a nightshirt.”
“Thanks.”
Chakotay found a cozy grey flannel nightshirt for Tom, and handed it to him. Chakotay listened to Tom get ready for bed. Tom did things in the same order as Jeanette: he brushed his teeth, washed his face, and brushed his hair before he came out. Chakotay usually got a goodnight kiss from Jeanette at this point.
“Could you leave the lights on low?”
“Sure,” said Chakotay softly. “I’ll be in the living room, finishing some reports if you need anything.”
Tom smiled. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”
Chakotay managed to hide his shock. Where else would he stay? “It’s my pleasure. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Chakotay turned down the lights, and left the door ajar. He went out to his desk, and tried to do some work, but he couldn’t concentrate. Finally he gave up and went back to the bedroom where Tom was sleeping peacefully. Chakotay lay down on top of the covers next to Tom, and Tom unconsciously turned and snuggled into his warmth. Chakotay put an arm around him, and let himself fall asleep as well.
Jeanette took a short nap, after which Harry and B’Elanna picked her up to join them for dinner in Engineering, where they began working on the best way to restore the present wrinkle in the continuum. They quickly realized that they would have to return to the same spot in Vethyian space to recreate the exact circumstances. They also decided to remodulate Voyager’s shields so that the transfer through the anomaly would be less violent on both sides.
“So, you’re assuming that the alternate Voyager is going to be doing the exact same thing?” asked Harry.
“Of course,” sneered B’Elanna. “There’s an alternate B’Elanna, and I know she’s just as good an engineer as I am. Now go take care of the shields.”
“Why do I have to go to the bridge?” whined Harry playfully.
“Because Jeanette has to take our plates to the reclamator. Now get moving, both of you.”
Jeanette laughed. “You two are exactly the same on my Voyager.”
“Well, our Tom would have protested a lot more before taking away the dishes,” said B’Elanna.
Jeanette made an ‘I’m sick’ face. “I don’t think I’d make it to the bridge.”
“Good point,” mused Harry.
“Why are you still here?” snarled B’Elanna. “Get going! We’ll be in Vethyian space in fourteen hours, and we don’t want to stay there any longer than we have to.”
Harry bowed, and sauntered off.
“Men,” B’Elanna and Jeanette chorused together. B’Elanna looked shocked, and Jeanette laughed at her. B’Elanna shook it off, and bent over her calculations.
Jeanette cleared away the dishes while B’Elanna began working her brand of technical wizardry with Voyager’s systems. Suddenly, Jeanette felt her unborn child try to make a field goal. “Dammit, boy, that hurts! Stop kicking me!”
B’Elanna looked up from her monitor. “Excuse me?”
Jeanette blushed. “Sorry, I was talking to the boy.”
B’Elanna stared at Jeanette’s slender belly. “You’re pregnant?”
Suddenly, Jeanette remembered where she was. “Oh!” She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, four months now.”
“But- you’re not married!”
“It’s next week,” said Jeanette defensively. She pulled a lock of hair in front of her face and examined it carefully.
“Okay,” said B’Elanna slowly. “So who is it? I mean, it’s not me, obviously.”
Jeanette grinned. “It could happen.”
“C’mon, tell me.”
“Hey all! The shield recalibration is all ready to go.”
“Oh, hi Harry!” said Jeanette a little too brightly.
B’Elanna’s eyes darkened. “Tell me it isn’t Harry.”
Jeanette laughed. “No, it isn’t Harry!”
Harry looked from B’Elanna to Jeanette. “What are you two talking about?”
B’Elanna looked unconvinced. “Well, then, why did you stop talking about it when he walked in?”
Again, Jeanette forgot where she was. “Are you nuts? Harry hates Chakotay! I try not to bring it up unless absolutely necessary.”
Harry examined a nearby bulkhead as B’Elanna stared at him. “I didn’t know that,” she muttered.
“It’s not exactly true, y’know,” Harry protested.
“It explains a lot,” mused B’Elanna.
“I don’t hate Chakotay,” Harry insisted. “I just can’t stand him. I don’t trust him. And, he’s a slut.”
“Excuse me?” B’Elanna got ready to defend her old Captain, but Jeanette beat her to it.
“That’s a little harsh, Harry. But it’s all in the past, for my Chakotay, anyway.”
Harry looked askance at Jeanette. “Yeah, right.”
“Harry!” both women exclaimed.
Harry shook his head in disgust. “Well, the Maquis flavor-of-the-month club is alive and well on this Voyager.”
Jeanette’s jaw dropped open, and B’Elanna snorted, “That’s disgusting, Harry.”
“Don’t tell me; you were February,” Harry shot back.
“B’Elanna!” Jeanette shrieked. “You didn’t!”
“Harry!”
Harry smiled grimly at their discomfort. Sometimes it was hard to be the only person onboard with morals; at others, it was quite rewarding. “Why are we talking about Chakotay anyway? Let me guess: you two are together on your Voyager.”
“Yeah,” Jeanette acknowledged without taking her eyes off B’Elanna. “I can’t believe you did that.” She turned to Harry. “It’s okay, I already know you disapprove.”
“He’s a scumbag,” Harry said flatly.
B’Elanna coughed warningly, then descended into technobabble about the anomaly and the upcoming exchange. Harry and Jeanette pretended to be deeply interested.
“Hello, all.” Chakotay quickly took in the expressions on the faces of the three crewmembers. They were making a fairly good attempt to mask their true emotions, but he wasn’t the First Officer for nothing. “Am I interrupting something?”
B’Elanna smiled sheepishly. “We were just finishing up, Commander.”
“Everything coming along okay?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be all done by the time we reenter the Vethyian system.”
“And the shields?”
“They’re ready to go, Commander,” Harry replied.
“And I guess you’ll be glad to be home again, Lieutenant Paris?”
Jeanette smiled cheerily at Chakotay. “I’ll be able to stand up without the world spinning around me, and I’ll be able to fly Voyager again.”
“I’m sorry the Doctor can’t do anything about that,” Chakotay frowned. “Is everything else all right?”
A shadow passed over her pretty face. “Nothing you can fix. I’m okay, really,” she said to reassure him.
If Chakotay noticed the slightly strained smile, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he excused himself to go update the Captain on their progress.
Jeanette watched him go quietly.
“He’s a scumbag,” Harry repeated.
Jeanette shot him a dark look. “Enough, Harry. Let’s get back to work. I want to go home.”
Home. Tom was curled up on the window seat in his quarters. His world had just been turned upside down.
He’d awoken on the alternate Voyager, in bed with Chakotay. He’d slept well, something that didn’t normally happen unless he was drunk or drugged. He’d been neither. It turned out that the Doctor had relented and given him something to take the edge off the withdrawal symptoms. The Doctor on this Voyager had done the same thing, after watching Tom delete all the illegal entries he’d made into the ship’s replicator system.
The nausea from being in the wrong continuum was gone; he was going back on active duty in four hours. He would be flying Voyager again.
Chakotay - the other one - had kissed him goodbye in their - his - quarters before letting him go down to Engineering where Harry and B’Elanna had prepared the transfer. Tom could still feel the warmth of his body pressed against his; the feel of Chakotay’s tongue wrapped around his. He could still see the sadness in Chakotay’s eyes as he let go; hear his voice whispering, “I don’t want to let you go back to a place where you’re so unhappy.”
Tom buried his face in his hands. He had planned to forget it all. But Harry and B’Elanna had a million questions. And Jeanette...
“Computer,” Tom whispered barely loud enough for the computer to pick up, “replay Paris ‘Welcome Home’ Missive.”
Jeanette’s sweet voice, so like his mother’s, filled the room. “Hello, Little Tommy. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing here, but I have to do something. I’m you, and I know I’ve always been able to count on me before. I’m going home, where I belong, and vice versa. I know you must have been just as freaked out by my world as I was by yours. Well, this is your world now, and I know you can have the same happiness here as I do in mine. Fight for it, Tom. Don’t let your fear keep you from what you really need.
“And finally, I want you to know that we’re having a boy. His name will be Thomas too, but he’s going to have someone to protect him. Always. Trust yourself. Your friend, Little Jeannie.”
Next Episode: Breaking Paris