This is a sequel to Winner takes it all.
Temaris
:P to Paramount
Shore Leave
Tom smiled in bemusement. After the last shore leave he had spent with Harry, going off on their own together should have seemed kind of foolhardy. And he hadn't wanted to do it. It seemed too unkind on Harry. But, B'Elanna was busy, and had refused time planetside, so it was a choice between going on his own, or going with Harry. He had originally planned to go on his own, but had run into Harry in the transporter room. The ensign had looked at him for a long moment, then turned away, taking his place with the others.
Even then he might have gone off exploring on his own, but as they waited for the last stragglers to arrive for beam down, he found himself stealing glances at Harry, nervously. Finally Harry looked back at his ex-lover with a tired smile, and said "Don't worry Tom. I won't be bothering you."
It had been that look that had changed his mind. The way Harry looked bone weary, and so utterly without any kind of hope. As though Tom were yet another burden to endure on this unwanted shore leave.
He had mustered up a real smile at Harry, remembering the way they had once been such good friends, at the start, before it had become complicated, before he had left him for B'Elanna.
"No, I was wondering if you wanted to, I don't know, go explore together?" The words had flowed smoothly, with no hint of his trepidation.
Harry had kept his eyes on the backpack at his feet. "No, thanks Tom."
"Come on, it'll be fun!" he'd cajoled. Harry had made the mistake of meeting those pleading blue eyes and the battle was lost.
"Sure, if you're okay with it." he had said resignedly, not letting it all go Tom's way. He'd do it, just to prove he could cope, but he was damned if he was going to enjoy it.
Tom's smile brightened nonetheless from the slightly forced look to genuine relief and pleasure.
It faded out with the transporters.
The planet was beautiful. Colonised by a friendly species, it was uncrowded and undeveloped. The two men ambled slowly through the broad streets, eyeing the goods in the windows, enjoying the sunshine on their faces, the wind at their backs. The trees swaying gently shaded the brightest light from eye used to the artificial strips of Voyager's corridors, and gave the place a fresh clean smell so unlike Voyager as to feel like breathing ambrosia.
"I didn't realise how horrible the recycled stuff smelt," Harry offered when Tom took a particularly deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a couple of seconds, the better to savour it, a faint smile on his lips.
"Mmm. You don't, I guess. Living with it. But this whole place. . . Gods, I wish I could bottle the stuff and empty it into the systems."
"Yeah. I know what you mean." They smiled at each other, unhindered by the past for a moment, and walked on in companionable silence.
They took a transport the short distance down to the ocean. The water was a purplish green colour, reflecting the clear, unclouded mauve of the skies above it, the gentle yellowing light echoing off of the waves in a long bright path. The sun was lower now, and Tom stopped them for a minute to dig out a sweater to sling around his waist for later.
"Cold?"
"Not yet," he answered with a quick smile at Harry. Harry nodded, and suddenly darted off. Tom hurried after him, and found him nose to the window of a small shop, staring longingly at some strange object.
"What's up?"
"Look. They've got a hedut," he pointed in tones suggesting he had found the grail.
"Oh. Of course. What's a hedut?"
Harry grinned at Tom, who felt his breath catch for a moment, as he was reminded of the other times he'd seen that smile, and how long ago it had been. "Philistine. I was hoping to find one actually. It's a musical instrument, peculiar to this culture, but I've never seen one for sale before. I saw one in a band a few worlds back, and tried to get one, but they weren't around for love or money. I even tried replicating one, but it just wasn't the same." He resumed staring at it.
"Well? You going to buy it or what?" Tom asked, amused, when it finally dawned on him that Harry was prepared to stare at it forever.
"Oh, I don't know," he said. Then he grinned brightly, "Oh, why not," he smiled, and tugged Tom's sleeve, hauling him after him. "Come on!" he said enthusiastically.
Tom followed into the small shop, and watched Harry haggling with amusement. Slowly he realised he was staring. <He is beautiful when he's happy,> he thought and was suddenly struck with pain. <He's been so unhappy.>
"Tom?" Harry was at his elbow again, looking concerned - and wary. Tom spotted the anxiety with ease, and smiled at him. He was sickened to see how quick Harry was to lose his fear. <Damn you Paris. Why didn't you pick someone tough, you know, like a baby, to break the heart of.>
"Shall we find some food?" was all he said.
"Sure! I'm sure I can smell something good."
"It's probably the friery down the road you can smell," the shop owner said to them, "You should try it."
"Thanks," smiled Tom, "We will." They wandered along the front until they found the shop. Inside they bought hot pastries filled with some thick, spicy paste, and a couple of cold drinks, and sat on the sea shore, scooping the stuff out of the paper bags as it flaked and crumbled, sipping at the tart fruit juice. Finally Tom sighed, and lay back, staring through sleepy, half closed eyes up at the sky.
"That was nice," he said, and yawned.
Harry flashed a quick smile at him. "Do you mind if I try out the hedut?"
Tom's eyes opened slightly and he turned his head. "Sure. If I can sleep through the clarinet I can sleep through anything."
"Gee, thanks," Harry mock grumbled. Tom let his eyes drift closed again, listening to the rustles as Harry retrieved the instrument from its packaging. It had looked like some kind of wind instrument, almost a cross between a clarinet and some kind of trumpet as Tom remembered. One of the curly ones, and he said so.
"Curly?" Harry laughed, "Possibly you mean a french horn?"
"Yeah, that too."
There was a silence, interrupted by an odd tapping noise. Tom opened his eyes again and leaned up on one elbow. Harry was sitting beside him still, the mouthpiece between his lips, just moving his fingers on the keys. "You going to play it or not?"
"Sure." He drew a deep breath, put his lips to it, and blew.
"Ohmigod!" Tom squawked, clapping his hands to his ears.
Harry snickered. "Makes a lot of noise, doesn't it?" he asked innocently.
"You little sadist, you knew!"
"Of course I knew. Why do you think I wasn't playing it? But you did ask, so I obliged." he said in tones of innocence.
"You could have warned me," he groused.
"Yup." Harry grinned, and started to put it away.
"No, wait, I want a go," he said, reaching out. He grabbed the thing away from Harry and blew into it. There was a sound rather like an elephantine sneeze, and Harry collapsed into laughter. He reached to grab it back, but was laughing so hard he could only bat feebly at it. Tom tried again, and got a low hum. Just as he was feeling like he was getting somewhere, the note modulated, choked and squawked up a good three octaves. Tom pulled it away from his mouth and gazed at it reproachfully.
Harry gasped, and moaned faintly, "Please, no more, my ribs hurt!" He took another look at the expression on Tom's face, and howled feebly, flapping one hand pathetically in the air, gasping for air.
Reluctantly Tom began to laugh too. "Well, you weren't much better!" he accused.
"No, but, oh the look on your face!" Harry's shoulders shook again. "Priceless. Oh man."
"At least I'm not meant to be the musician round here," Tom pointed out.
"I couldn't tell!" and Harry collapsed again, crowing helplessly.
At that Tom lost it too, and they couldn't stop.
"Perhaps we could use it as a distress signal?"
"Our luck, it'll be a mating cry! The call of the wild!"
"Don't! Imagine the creature that would make a noise like that! Lumbering out of the sea,"
"Wearing tartan,"
"Wearing, wearing tartan?"
"It sounded sort of Scottish to me." was Tom's explanation.
Harry shook his head briefly. "Howling through its long, curled, trumpet like nose to the mate of its dreams who'll be. . ."
"Wearing pastel tartan," Tom added helpfully, and had to wait for Harry to sit up again.
"Charging across the sandy beach, honking,"
"My love, my love!"
"Ambrose! Oh Ambrose!"
"Ambrose?!"
"This is getting to be silly."
"Really? You mean we're not there yet?"
"Oh god."
"Oh god."
There was a long silence, marred only by the occasional snort.
"It's getting dark," Tom observed, sometime later.
"Uhuh." Harry was lying on his stomach, head propped on folded hands, watching the sun set in a blaze of greens and golds.
"We ought to find somewhere to stay."
"Mmm."
"And some food."
"Ah."
"Maybe a strip club."
"Mhmh"
"I thought you were agreeing to everything."
"Mmm."
"Harry, I'll tickle you."
"Ha." Harry looked over his shoulder and grinned cruelly at Tom. "I remember who was and wasn't ticklish out of the two of us."
"Scratch the tickling."
"Mhmm."
"Will you quit with that!"
"Mhmh."
"Grrrrr."
Silhouetted by the sun Harry's shoulders shook gently.
"Come on, trouble," he rolled to his feet. "Time for dinner, and I don't suppose you've got anywhere to stay yet either."
"Harry," Tom said exasperatedly. "And you do I suppose."
Harry glanced back as he walked towards the road, dusting the sand off his clothes. "Yes, since you ask."
Tom rolled his eyes. <Might have known.>
As they walked back into the small town, they passed a couple of restaurants and pubs. At the third Carey spotted them, and called them in.
"Sit down, this place is good. Watch the drink, it's killer," he yelled cheerfully over the racket.
"My kind of place," Tom shouted back. A band played in the back of the bar, and Harry nudged Tom, and said something.
"I can't hear you," he yelled inches away.
"The hedut in its natural environment," Harry said again, louder, pointing him towards the scarlet faced musician, and watched with pride as Tom spilled his drink.
They sat down at a table with Carey and a couple other crew, chatting. Somehow, every conversation seemed to turn to subjects that Tom and Harry knew nothing about, or maybe it was that no one was interested in their conversations, they talked about everything, a little hazy, both content and pleased with themselves for being so. They talked and talked, sport, vids, life, death, taxes - were they going to get back pay when they got home, and would Internal Financing forgo the revenue because of their sufferings. General opinion was maybe, and no way. . . Drinks appeared and disappeared, as did members of the Voyager crew.
At one point B'Elanna arrived unexpectedly, and finding no space near Tom, sat down and started chatting to Chell. Her eyes flickered frequently to where Tom and Harry were deep in conversation, Tom using glasses and pools of drink to mark out some diagram to explain his point, Harry leaning forward over the table towards him, heads so close their hair touched. She bit her lip when Harry lifted his eyes from the table and smiled at Tom, and Tom smiled back, barely aware of the way his hand covered Harry's for a moment. <Fuck. I'm going to lose him,> she found herself thinking coldly, and stared at Harry, wishing he would die. Then the moment was over, and they were arguing good-naturedly again, waving hands in the air, completely oblivious to themselves.
Finally, she left, bitterly aware they had never noticed.
It was the end of the two days. Tom and Harry walked together to the meeting point again, almost like old times. Tom smiled bemusedly and shook his head. He hadn't meant to spend the whole time with Harry, but god he was glad he had. He glanced up to see Harry, hedut in hand, backpack slung over one shoulder. He shook his head again.
As they waited for the transporter, Harry smiled at the back of Tom's sunburnt neck. Somehow, his broken heart didn't hurt so much any more. It had actually been fun. Not excruciating, as he had expected.
Just to try, he prodded the sleeping thought: <He doesn't love me,> he told himself. But he didn't believe it. It was off-key, a broken note. He chuckled, remembering the other broken note.
"Hmm?" asked Tom.
"Oh nothing. Ambrose."
The last thing he saw before transport was Tom doubled up. No. His heart didn't feel nearly so damaged any more.
© Temaris 1998
Page last updated 18/09/2004.