Long Day
<Long day.> Tom shrugged slightly, then let his shoulders roll to ease the tension in them as he felt the twinge between his shoulderblades. He shifted slightly in the chair, and touched long fingers across the boards in front of him. His eyes were half on the viewscreen, half on his readouts, but it was empty space. The captain had long since retired to her ready room, and Chakotay was sitting in the command chair now. Without looking he knew the man was not slouched exactly - sprawled, he smiled and nodded, pleased to get the word. Yes, sprawled out, staring at the viewscreen, deliberately winding Tuvok up without so much as speaking. He smothered a grin. Anyone that could wind the strait laced po-faced Vulcan up so badly couldn't be so bad in his book. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd try it too.
His shoulders shook for a moment as he contemplated Tuvok running screaming from the bridge, finally driven insane by the convict and the outlaw. Never happen, he told himself, and sighed regretfully.
Hmm? Oh, right. Left a bit, right a bit. Up a bit, down a bit. Let's try for a shimmy... Okay, so maybe not such a cool idea. He let his shoulders straighten as first B'Elanna, then Chakotay reamed him out for unnecessary manoeuvres. Yessir. Nosir. Three bags full sir. If you want to test the hull integrity you might as well test it, not flannel around trying out neat little right angles. You'd think they were floating on water all the imagination these guys showed. No gravity here, just let it twist right through those three beautiful dimensions... Oh yeaaah.
Hey, I've gotta get some fun! No fair. All right, all right, I'll play the good boy till the shift end... which should be any moment -- now!
"Okay, Jolan, nothing to report. Chief Torres is running structural tests, so she may request some data, and for you to try some runs to check out the stress loads. Otherwise, just keep her pointed thataway. Sure, seeya."
"Hey, Har, whatcha up to tonight?" Tom frowns along with his best friend, pouting at him, failing to keep the twinkle at bay.
"I've got work to do. And then I promised I'd meet someone at the resort." Tom freezes, and his long face stretches into a poor copy of pleased interest.
"Oh, right." He waits while Harry finishes up, closing the last reports up, handing over the outstanding scans and analyses to whatsisname - strongandsilent. Oh yeah, Ayalla.
Maybe if I push a little, he'll give in.
"Tom, quit pushing." Tom stared at him, startled at the echo of his own thoughts. "I've had a long day, okay, and I really don't feel up to the whole best pals thing." The dark brown eyes regarded him steadily, head tilted slightly to one side, and Tom bit his lip.
"You looking after yourself?" he asked, leaning forward a fraction, and pulling back again as Harry tensed. There was a brief tightening of the lips that might have passed as a smile to someone else, and Tom assessed the grey tint to the sandy beige of Harry's skin more thoroughly.
"You aren't, are you?"
A real smile broke through. "Tom, quit mother henning. It doesn't suit you. You want to mother hen someone, go pester B'Elanna. She's had less sleep than I have." He tried not to catch Tom's lifted eyebrow and failed. "All right," he said between splutters. "So maybe you wanted to live some longer."
Tom snorted sadly, serious for a turn. "Yeah, well, if I tried to be all worried about her I'd probably lose my hand at the wrist."
"She's just wary. Give her time, she'll ease up."
Tom looked sharply at his ex-lover, and shook his head in disbelief.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Look, have you seen the doctor?" he changed the subject hastily.
The look on Harry's face let him know that he wasn't fooling anyone, and then let him off the hook.
"Tom, I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night."
"Oh?" Tom blinked for a moment, trying to remember if he knew what Harry had been doing the night before. The memory popped up, surprising himself. Harry wandering out of the mess hall, mentioning to Neelix something about baby sitting for Sam Wildman.. He glanced sharply at Harry, and caught faintly guilty eyes. The pallor of Harry's face gave way to the deep browning of a blush.
"Har?" What! "I was under the impression you were off baby-sitting Naomi last night and she's a little young for you - right?"
"Neelix had Naomi, Sam and I had dinner together," Harry mumbled.
Oh. "Oh. That's-- that's great Harry. I imagine she needs some time off from the kid now and again."
Harry nods, a little too hasty. "Yeah, that's it."
The lift arrives at deck four, they walk off. Head for their quarters.
"So, what's this work that's so urgent?"
Tom frowned again, as Harry sighed, shoulders slumping.
"Just leave it Tom? Please?" he stops, one hand on the entry pad to his room, the door slipping softly open, staring at the grey wall sightlessly. Tom touches a tentative hand onto Harry's back, holds it there through the flinch and the shrug that try to push him away.
Softly, "Har, I'm still your friend. What's wrong?"
A sound that might be a bark of laughter, but probably isn't. Tom glances down the corridors, urges Harry inside, bringing the lights up halfway, locking the door, guiding him to a chair. Settles him in it, crouches next to him, one hand absently petting his friend's thigh, rubbing gently, trying to put into that the comfort, the concern, the willingness to listen.
Harry's hand covers his face. "Don't. Tom. Please?" his voice cracks painfully, and he covers his mouth with one hand, turning his head away to stop him seeing the almost tears deepening the shine of deep pained eyes. A hand rubs lightly at his back, and he sighs, gives up.
"C'm on Har, you know I'll just nag until you tell me."
A sniff, and a nod. "I was with Sam last night--" Tom nods, trying to keep the pattern of strokes on Harry's back the same, ignoring the hollow in the pit of his stomach with distaste: <He deserves to be happy, you gave him up, you have no right to be jealous> Didn't stop it though.
"She was talking about her husband. How badly she misses him, and I thought -- I was thinking... She loves him so much, and she throws everything into Naomi, because that's all she has of him, and sometimes she almost hates her, for reminding her, and sometimes she cries for the other baby, the one she carried, that died. I don't know." He tilts his head towards Tom, "I guess it got to me."
"We'll get home, Har," he says softly, brushing back the heavy black hair from where it's fallen. "You'll see. Captain'll get us home, and it'll all be just a memory."
He flinches at dying brown eyes which meet his. "To go with all my other memories, right Tom?" It is the first time Harry has sounded bitter, and Tom's stomach does a little tumble. Maybe... just maybe it's not over. Maybe I can fix it...
"Har?" He shifts a little closer, one hand stroking tenderly over Harry's foot, cheek leaning in until he is pressing it against the bony corner of his hip.
One hand drops to rest on his head, and he holds still, the only movement his hand on Harry's foot, soothing and caressing with palm and fingers. He doesn't even breath for a moment, and then the hand runs fingers into his rough blond hair, bats lightly at a stray curl.
"I know. I'm sorry Tom." He sounds unutterably weary. "I'll be better tomorrow." There is nothing he can say to that, so he keeps silent. The two men sit still and silent in the dark, one resting against the other, hands gently reconnecting, petting. Thoughts a thousand miles away, and anchored in unadmitted love.
© Temaris 2000
Page last updated 18/09/2004.