Back by popular demand, it's the second (probably the last, unless I get a really good idea) installment in the Autism Series - with another song by Kate & Anna! Yeaa!

No reposting allowed without my permission (I'll probably say yes.) This is my story; I wrote it. No copyright infringement intended.

Comments always welcome. This is a sequel to my story House of Stone.

"The golden coach is on the track
And ready, set to fly
The rainbow ride will make its arc
And send me to the sky"
- Kate and Anna McGarrigle, "Rainbow Ride"

I probably would have cracked from the strain.

I was in a completely new situation. I couldn't rely on the routines and familiar rituals the Academy had taught me. I felt that I needed the structure in order to make sure I didn't do something stupid. If I could learn it all by rote, I'd be prepared.

The first thing that I wasn't ready for was Captain Janeway. She was nothing like the captains and instructors at the academy. I found her informal and friendly. "At ease, Mr. Kim, before you sprain something." Did she notice that I carried myself just a little too stiffly to be real?

The next thing was Tom Paris. I didn't know what it was at first. Something about him just drew me to him. He seemed to have such a shell around himself. He reminded me of me. In my case, the shell was everything, my whole personality. It was a mode de vie. For him, it was a tough, sarcastic interior that concealed a vulnerable interior. I wanted to get into that, pry open the oyster to see the concealed pearl. The officers - Cavit, Fitzgerald - told me that I should stay away from him. It was the first time I'd ever disobeyed anything that an officer said.

When we were flung into the Delta Quadrant, I would have shattered. There was nothing familiar here. Nothing to fall back on - except Tom. When I was on Ocampa my shell clamped around me so harshly because of the disease and the wild Klingon woman - B'Elanna - the total absence of anything familiar - that I nearly pushed Tom away - "What makes you think I'm your friend?". But he didn't push me back, and I noticed this, somehow. It was the sort of observation that anyone would make except me.

I went everywhere with Tom. We were the Voyager Odd-Couple - sweet, innocent Harry Kim and that scum. I hated it whenever anyone attacked Tom like that. Even I, who had never reacted to insults in school because I didn't get them, was hyper-aware at any aspersions cast on Tom.

We connected in a way that I couldn't understand because I'd never felt it before. We understood each other, possibly the two least understandable people on the ship. No one could understand why he sold out, lied, or any of it - except me, because I could see the vulnerable core of his being. Everyone thought they could understand me - but they couldn't, not really, because of my complete absence of being. But Tom planted a seed somehow, and whenever I was with him I felt like there was life, a person - Harry - inside the shell that was Starfleet Ensign Kim.

Maybe that's why I fell in love with him. Or maybe that was falling in love with him. I still don't get this kind of thing very well. I didn't go about it very well. One night I was practicing the clarinet; he was sitting in the sofa listening.

My piece ended and I sat down beside him. We talked for hours, like we always did. I mean, as we always did. Grammatical errors bother me, especially my own. He was talking about upgrades to the warp core. Suddenly, he looked directly at me.

"Harry," he said, "you're being awfully quiet tonight. It's not like you. Is something bothering you?"

"Um, no," I said guiltily. In fact I was marvelling at his face. He was very beautiful. I'd never experienced the idea of beauty before with such force - the swelling intensity of emotion that people entirely fail to describe to me.

"Yes there is, I can tell. What is it?" He draped one arm around me chummily. I thought, you wouldn't do that if you knew how I felt about you! and I started to weep. Like a child.

He was stunned. "Aw, Harry, what is it?"

"Tom - " I choked out. "So kind - so good to me - no one else has ever been like this for me."

He lifted up my face in his hands. All his pretense and "tough guy" airs were washed away. "Harry, nobody's ever trusted me like you do. You're my best friend, you know that. I'll always be here for you."

"You mean it?"

"Of course."

"Tom, it's - it's - I love you."

His demeanour changed subtly. Just subtly. Just enough so that the unique connection I'd developed with him told me that he felt something -

He put his other arm around me.

And then he kissed me.

All my life my whole world had been a painting, a sculpture, a hologram. Something always seemed to detach me from the reality of life as separate from my little bubble. But it burst and the sensation I was receiving told me that this was it, this was real life and Tom loves me!

We kissed for a while and then he left. We're still in the dating stage (as far as I understand the rather needlessly complex relationship patterns).

Sometimes I really remind myself of Seven. She has about the same grasp on most human relationships as I do. The difference being that she isn't in love with anyone. And I had the good fortune that I fell in love with the man in the world whom I understand and who understands me. And that strikes me as a good condition for love.

end