Compensation
by Smaragd
---

A very alternative universe, hinging on a single failure of a thin strip of metal. It's a materials cosmos.

Originally published in Aleph Null 7.

---

He rolled on top of his lover, their kisses burning hotter with each touch of mouth on mouth, of tongue to tongue, of skin against skin. He was in heaven, his hands tangled up in thick hair, loving the feel of it cascading between his fingers. The pleasure was building slowly but steadily in his body, compelling him to bind himself tighter to the source of it. His hips thrust and his cock rubbed against the golden body in his arms, faster and faster, flaming with need. He was close, and then he was closer. . . sparks were shooting through his body. . . he was, oh, help, he was losing contact with that silky skin. . .

NO! His mind reeled in panic, the pain of separation coursing through him. It couldn't be happening again! He fought the pull with everything in him, battling to stay where he was, but it was fading so fast, he grabbed and tugged at anything he could to reverse the force that was dragging him away from the warmth, and the love, and. . .

He jerked awake, sweating and panting, dimly remembering who he was, where he was, before finally landing firmly in the present, and realizing he was alone. He groaned, rolling over onto his back, his hands still tightly clenched into fists. Fuck. This had to end, there had to be some way to stop having these awful dreams. Not that the dreams themselves were so bad, but the waking up part was getting to be damned unbearable.

He should probably talk to someone about it. Right. The holographic doctor was the only real possibility, but it was reserved for level two medical emergencies, and this wasn't one. Yet. And there was no convincing the commander, who had decided they just couldn't afford the energy to keep it online for things like this.

And, of course, he couldn't tell the captain, couldn't burden her with something so petty. But there wasn't anyone else he really spoke to on board ship. It was no wonder his subconscious had to resort to these dreams.

Stars, the last time he had a friend, someone to just talk to, and be with, and care about. . . it seemed so long ago. He curled up around his pillow and let himself think about Harry. Harry Kim. He hadn't really known any of the rest of them, but it had torn him in half to leave Harry behind. It had felt so right, being with him, holding him, and that one perfect, precious kiss he could still taste. . . it was enough to keep him going.

He heard Harry's voice in his dreams sometimes, begging him to stay. That thought brought other voices to mind, like the rest of the Starfleet officers telling the captain and the commander how crazy it was to leave. But they had wanted to try to make their way home, to find some way across the incredible distance between them and Earth. And he was with Janeway, no matter what. He and the pitifully few members of the original two crews who seemed to have the same deathwish she had. He wondered, at times, why others had joined them. He knew it really wasn't a deathwish, but something had to drive people to take this kind of risk. What had the Vulcan officer, Tuvok, said? Even if all of the survivors had joined the crew, they had less than a ten percent chance of surviving a year, and essentially zero for making it the entire seventy.

Tom had watched Janeway argue, swept up by her passionate style, that they could find a wormhole, or perhaps some other race with the technology to send them back. Tuvok had only calmly replied that the chances of the latter were doubled if they remained where they were, on Ocampa, and followed that up with some infinitesimal number regarding the occurrences of wormholes in the known universe. But Janeway wasn't a person who could sit still and let it go. Things had been tense, and Tom had been relieved when they had finally agreed to disagree. Of course, that was the start of the real turmoil for each of the members of both crews who had to make their choice. Most had listened to the logical view. . . championed by the Maquis engineer, Torres, and by Tuvok. . . though more of them than Tom had expected, almost fifty, had said they were willing to take any risk to get back to whatever they'd left in the alpha quadrant.

Reflecting on the quality of their current crew, Tom suspected quite a few of them simply didn't have the courage to brave a new life in a new quadrant full of unfamiliar technology and strange cultures. Tom flipped onto his back, wondering that he, who had less than nothing to go back for and slightly better than average survival skills, had been unable to say no to Janeway. He'd thought he'd lost any loyalty to anything long ago, but Janeway had managed to inspire it in him. He owed her, and she deserved it, but it hadn't been easy to steer the ship away from Ocampa and head toward the alpha quadrant. The first step on an infinitely long journey, one which had begun with hope and opportunities, and which now came down to survival skills. Though he had never been much of an optimist, Tom had always thought he could muddle through anything. He knew he was good at a lot of things, and piloting was only one of them. And he was nothing if not opportunistic. He'd always been able to find something to learn, somewhere to go next, even in prison. He'd been wary right from the start, knowing not to count on much from something that was too good to be true, but he'd taken Captain Janeway's offer anyway.

Into the mouth of hell.

He'd met his destiny on Voyager, it seemed. This was the ultimate challenge for a survivalist; absolutely nothing was easy here. It was the ultimate compensation for the relatively easy life he'd led until now. Now, how many people could say living in the shadow of an abusive father and getting thrown into the Federation prison system was 'easy'? But it was true; he'd gladly live in the worst prison in the alpha quadrant rather than stay here. Life in prison was predicable; life here was. . .

Tom groaned as his mind began cataloging his many trials on this doomed ship. The biggest problem, of course, was the motley bunch of delta quadrant mercenaries Janeway had recruited to fill out the crew. She'd promised them a better life in the alpha quadrant and a chance to learn about Federation technology on the way, but it was a lot to take on faith for anyone who had a decent life to leave. The sorry lot who had joined up unfortunately included a few who regularly challenged the captain's authority, and others who ran a barely concealed underground on the ship. They had some respect for the Maquis on board, less for the regular Fleeters and, he admitted, none at all for one Ensign Tom Paris. The commander ensured no one forgot his history and his reputation.

Tom regularly wondered which of the many cosmic crimes he had committed had earned him this particular hell, stuck out here with barely enough trained people to run the ship. Lucky for him he knew more about Voyager and piloting than any of them, or they probably would have tossed him out months ago. He was thankful they hadn't court-martialed him after the whole mess on Ocampa. He still had nightmares, sometimes, about being confined to quarters for seventy years; it had been horrible afterward, huddling in this room with only the occasional ship-wide communication to let him know what was happening. The feeling had only intensified since then, probably because he hadn't actually been off the ship since that fateful rescue mission.

And before that, it had been Deep Space Nine. Where he'd met Harry. Harry had been the one to come to him, to tell him about the destroyed array. Harry had given him a glowing pitch for the planet, the quadrant, the opportunities for both of them. Harry had enthusiastically explained the choice he had made to stay, to explore, and to do what he'd joined Starfleet to do. And he had spelled out the choice Tom now had to make. It still hurt, deep inside, to remember Harry's disappointment when Tom had to tell him he was staying with Voyager. He knew Harry was the realistic one, choosing to have a life there rather than endure this meager and dangerous existence, with the odds stacked so high against them. That Tuvok definitely knew his stuff. When he let himself think about it, Tom had to admit this journey was hopeless, that they would run out of options sooner or later. The only satisfaction he ever had these days was his knowledge that Harry was safe, back on Ocampa. Not out here, moving at warp speed toward an unknown yet inevitable death.

Warp speed. Right. He was on duty in less than an hour, and knew he had to get moving soon. He levered up to sit on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his face. Prison was a good warm-up for life aboard this ship, he mused. When he wasn't at the conn, he was working on maintenance. Not that he didn't do his share, he did more usually, but there was never anyone to say thanks except the captain, and she worked harder than anyone, running Ops as well as keeping tabs on everything else.

At least he wore a Starfleet uniform and had his pip. Other than that, it felt depressingly like prison, with the same bullies and gangs, and the fear whenever he was around them. He spent all his limited spare time in his cramped quarters, which he hated, but what was the point of leaving? Whenever he tried, he usually ran into a fistfight, and even when he avoided that, the open hostility from all the factions of the crew was enough to send him back almost immediately. And he knew if it hadn't changed over the ten months they'd been out here, it wasn't likely to now. He looked around the spartan room.

Janeway had offered him officer's quarters, but he knew she needed that currency for some of the malcontents in the crew. More room wouldn't make any difference, he knew it would just be more of the same dreariness. It wasn't as though he ever shared the space with anyone, or had the rations to replicate things to make it any more comfortable.

Still, he flew the ship, which made up for all of it. Or at least it had until these dreams started; now, he had begun to wonder. He stood up, stumbling over to scrub his face at the tiny fresher, ready to face another day on Voyager.

---

They were like a drug, and he knew he should avoid them, but he couldn't help but want the dreams. They had become more and more real, and it scared him sometimes. They were so seductive that he had had to set multiple alarms after oversleeping more than once. It had become too difficult to leave his quarters except for work, and he survived on one meal of replicated rations each day. . . tasteless but nourishing enough.

Other than the dreams, he looked forward to nothing except maybe the one sonic shower they were allowed each week. After they'd shut down the auto-cleaning robots, the dust and dirt on the ship had taken over; being clean for just a few minutes was a real joy.

The dreams gradually took over his life, with bits and pieces flashing into his thoughts at odd times, scraps of phrases his dream lover had said. Things like 'the golden path' and 'together, always.' He would write down anything he could remember when he awoke; it was gone so quickly, and he wanted to remember so badly. He knew his imagination was going overboard, and this was probably the beginnings of insanity, but he was helplessly addicted. There was so little stimulation in the rest of his life, with Voyager constantly avoiding any conflict, conserving energy at every turn, and never any real human contact. He couldn't help it, not that he really tried to stop. He had found himself running to his quarters on off-shifts, eating quickly, and falling into a deep, dark chasm of dreamsleep almost immediately. Over time, he had started remembering more and more of the dreams. Then one morning, blearily facing another day at the helm searching for the path home with the least conflict, and bored to distraction, he fell into thinking about the dreams. He glanced back at the commander, but she seemed busy and distracted, not her normal micromanaging self, so he surreptitiously clicked open some of his personal files. He quickly pulled up the phrases he'd tapped into a PADD in the middle of the night.

It was the usual list of disjointed words, but he was puzzled to see 'abdulation hypnosis' on the screen. It was a phrase he couldn't remember hearing before, but he knew it was coming out of his subconscious, so he must have picked it up somewhere. Checking his instruments and finding nothing new, he asked the computer to look it up. It was apparently an innovative technique developed in the late 2200's to encourage extrasensory experiences. It had never really been proven, or disproven, the entry said, but some swore it worked. What had he been thinking? How had his subconscious come up with this? Had he seen it before? He read further into the article and noted a side effect of the technique was enhanced dreaming. Enhanced how? he wondered. He knew it was probably all so much hype, but it was just enough to get him to download the subroutines. He would give it a try later, might be fun. At least it wouldn't be the same thing he did every night.

And that night the dreams were even more vivid, the sensations more palpable, a few more words understandable. He remembered seeing Harry in his dream, and the look on his face was just like the one he remembered, that lost look, tempered with the hope that Tom would change his mind and stay. It all seemed to be tied together, somehow, but he couldn't quite grasp whatever it was. The next sleep cycle, he tried another step in the abdulation technique, falling into a deeper and deeper state of hypnosis. This worked even better, and he seemed to have more control over the dreams; he found he could tell himself how long he had to sleep and he would wake up just before his alarm without fail.

He explored everything he could find in the database on abdulation and other hypnosis techniques, as well as dream therapy and analysis. He tried them all, not understanding what they were doing to his subconscious, but willing to take the risk. It wasn't as though he had much to lose, he thought wryly.

Eventually, he remembered more and more of his dream lover's voice, his face, his touch, and the long lovemaking sessions that left him shaking and drained when he awoke. It was familiar and strange all at the same time. He remembered talking, and listening, but he could never really remember what was said. The strangest part was even though he felt he'd had a deeply satisfying orgasm in his dream, there was no evidence of it on the bed, ever. He gave up trying to figure it out after a few weeks. Whatever was going on, it made it easier to concentrate during his duty shifts, and during his work shifts in maintenance. It was as though his dreamlife served the purpose that a fulfilling social life would anywhere but on this ship.

He began to believe this was more than dreaming, against his better judgement. He thought he had heard Harry's voice in his dreams telling him it was real, but that was even more reason to disbelieve it.

---

The klaxon of the red alert snapped him out of sleep, slamming him face-first into real time. He was disoriented, but his Starfleet training and the constant fear of this sound on board Voyager made his body react even though his mind wasn't quite there yet. He was dressed and running for the bridge in under a minute.

Crowding into the turbolift, he sagged against the wall, and it suddenly struck him that he remembered a lot more of the dream he'd been having than he normally did. The images were so clear and the words echoed in his mind. He was overcome with the realization that it wasn't a dream, he'd been somewhere else, somewhere with Harry. And Harry had been real, too. Then the turbolift jerked to a halt and they all tumbled out, gearing up to handle the delta quadrant denizens they'd accidentally offended, and he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.

After the emergency had been dealt with and he had been dismissed, he let himself think about what it meant, what was happening to him in the dreams. He went back and looked at the abdulation texts again, reading between the lines, realizing this was far more than the gentle self-hypnosis it pretended to be. He queued up the instruction sequence once more, this time telling himself to be aware the dream was real when he entered it. And he dove under again, eager to experience what he hoped he would.


He entered the dream slowly, knowing this one would be different. He felt he'd arrived on a vast plateau, and an entirely new world was available to him. He sat up, looking around fuzzily, and found he was naked, lying next to another person, also naked, and who seemed to be asleep. They were on a large raised platform in the midst of a misty gray and infinite space.

He concentrated, and the mist seemed to clear, giving him a solid picture of his bedmate. He shook his head, then let himself stare. It was. . . well, of course, it was a dream come true. . . Harry. He smiled to himself, suddenly knowing that Harry was his dream lover, that it wasn't just all wishful thinking on his part. Tom didn't know how or why, but he did know this was more than a simple dream. He turned to his bedmate, feeling the dampened response from his dream bed, reminded again that this wasn't normal space. There was no response to his movement, but Tom was so happy to be next to a warm, breathing body, he didn't care if Harry stayed asleep forever. Tom studied the young face, reacquainting himself with the soft features, the flawless skin, the thick black hair. It was so real, he forgot for a moment that it was a dream.

But he was dreaming, he thought, glancing at the mist and looking around. The sheets on the bed were silky, the air was fresh, and he felt clean, really clean. His real body was, he knew, smelling of Jeffries tubes and lying on the miserable little bunk they'd assigned to the lowest ranks on Voyager. Hey, but if he was dreaming, he might as well enjoy it, right? Tom leaned in and kissed Harry softly on the cheek.

Harry opened his eyes, and a slow smile spread across his face. He pushed himself up to kiss Tom back, rolling them both over, not removing his lips from Tom's until they were both breathless. Harry kissed Tom's neck, and moved down to his chest, licking and nibbling deliciously along the way. Tom was too overwhelmed by it all to make any sort of protest, and it was some time before he could even consider contributing to the experience. By that time, Harry had begun licking along his stiff cock, taking it into his mouth and sucking and tonguing so skillfully that before he knew what was happening, Tom was coming, coming hard, and Harry was taking it all, as though he'd been doing it all his life. Tom collapsed utterly, sinking into the softness under him, trying like hell to reconcile why that had felt so incredibly familiar. He knew he'd never had as perfect a first time as that, it just didn't exist. And he knew he was dreaming, but it wasn't fuzzy like a dream, it was fuzzy like he'd just come, it was real. And it could only be more perfect if. . . Then he felt Harry's hands on his legs, bending them up near his shoulders. He felt fingers, slick and warm, slipping into him, and again, he was struck by how familiar this felt, how sweet it was, it was like a dream but it wasn't a dream. . . and then Harry was pushing his cock inside, and it felt so amazing, all he could do was try to keep breathing.

Harry was fucking him now. . . dark eyes closed tightly, glossy hair falling over his face, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow. Tom couldn't get over how beautiful he was, how amazing this felt, how perfect it all was. The edges of Harry's face were softened by the mist surrounding them, and the sharp edges of any pain in Tom's body seemed to be blunted as well. Waves of pleasure washed over him, sweet and soft, and he was swept away, hearing the rush of water in his ears. . .

Tom gasped as Harry's sweat-slick abdomen brushed against his cock, sending a torrent of pleasure coursing through Tom's blood. Harry stroked in and out, his movement building a towering waterfall, thundering around Tom, and when he felt the pace quicken, when Harry's cock swelled unbearably inside him, he was suddenly overwhelmed by another blazing orgasm.

The gradual stilling of their bodies went unnoticed, as Tom's heart and lungs pumped hard toward their recovery. He felt bereft as Harry slipped out of him, moving to lie beside him as they both fought for oxygen. Tom could feel his heart beating, could hear the air rush in and out of his nose and mouth, but it was again, somehow, muted, surrounded by mist, surreal. But he was simply too sated to try to analyze it now. Whatever the hell was going on here, he hoped it never ended.

After a moment, Harry leaned toward him, brushing the hair out of his face, and he looked, really looked into Tom's eyes for the first time. His face grew concerned, and he asked, "Tom?" Tom was at a loss for words. What could anyone say at a time like this? They were in some ethereal place; he'd just been fucked senseless by someone he barely knew, someone he hadn't seen for almost a year, someone he'd dreamt about every night for months. He went with the basics.

"Hi, Harry. It's me," he grinned. "I think." Harry, who had been lazy and calm until this point, sat up sharply and looked at Tom, hard. "Do you mean it? You're finally real?" "Yeah, Harry, I think I am. At least, I don't think I'm dreaming anymore."

"Oh, Tom, you're dreaming, but it's not the kind of dream you think." He started to reach for Tom, and stopped himself. "I've waited so long to talk to you, I don't know if I remember how." What the hell? "What are you talking about?"

"Tom- " Harry was hesitant, "I just meant that we've been coming here for weeks now, but you haven't really been here, you've been in this half-waking state, where I couldn't tell if you understood me, and I know I couldn't understand you. I've really wanted to talk to you."

Tom was, well, not shocked, but maybe stunned a bit. He'd been here. . . here? Where were they? It had to be a place. . . away from Voyager? Harry had talked to him, and he remembered trying to talk back to him, it was all so fuzzy. And he remembered the lovemaking, the aching tenderness he sensed from Harry, and he looked at Harry through narrowed eyes, "But you haven't missed-?" Tom gestured at their naked bodies still glistening with the aftermath of sex.

Harry sat up, looking stricken. "Tom, I™" He gulped. "I'm really sorry. I took advantage of your dreamself. I know it was wrong, but you were here, and you wanted it, you really did. . . "

Compensation "I did want it, Harry," Tom broke in. "Even though I wasn't really aware of what was going on here, I," he took a breath, continuing, "It's kept me sane, back there, Harry." He looked down, then up, into Harry's eyes, "And it was perfect, Harry. You were so kind to me. Thank you."

But Harry was babbling, going on and on about what they had done. "I didn't think about what would happen, I just kept hoping you would wake up, that you would be here one day, for real." He pushed his hair off his forehead, then started rubbing his neck over and over. "I raped you. That's what it was."

"No!" Tom grabbed Harry's hand before he rubbed something raw. "It wasn't rape. It was. . . well, it was something I would have wanted you to do. Something I've always wanted you to do. You knew that, I told you as much when we left Ocampa. So it wasn't rape at all."

"I should have waited, I should have. . . "

"Harry! Listen to me! I wanted it." He shook his head. "Look, if you were a sleepy zombie, I would have done the same thing. And I wasn't kidding, I think I would be going nuts on Voyager right now if I hadn't felt the. . . " he stopped, finding no word to describe what it had meant to him. "If I hadn't had this to come home to at night." Tom sighed. "Okay?"

"No, it's not okay, I. . . "

But Tom couldn't argue anymore, and his curiosity was starting to get the best of him. He broke in, asking, "Harry, where are we?" That stopped Harry midstream.

"What do you mean, where are we?"
"I mean, where the fuck are we? I went to sleep and woke up here. But I think I'm really back on Voyager, right?"

"Wow." Now Harry looked definitively stunned. "I wondered why it was taking you so long to get here. You don't know?"

"No," Tom replied, confused. "What am I supposed to know?"

"Wait, if you never figured it out, how did you get here at all?"

Tom tried to describe what had happened, though it didn't make sense to him, either. "Well, I'm not sure," he said, slowly. "There was a red alert last night. It woke me up out of a sound sleep, and I remembered a lot of things from my dream. What I mostly remembered was that it didn't feel like a dream."

"I know. You disappeared too soon, but that's happened before. I wonder what was different?"

"I don't know, Harry. Maybe I was paying more attention, maybe I was starting to realize this was more than dreaming." He stopped, then started again. "So what is this, Harry? Am I dreaming?"

"Sort of. You really don't know?" Tom shook his head, and Harry continued. "We're in a kind of collective unconscious dream state. There are whole races that live like this, in the dreams, and sleep all the time in the real world. When we found out about it, we started a research project to try to contact Voyager." He grinned. "I volunteered."

Tom grinned back. Damn, he'd missed this, just looking into someone else's eyes, feeling like he was part of something, meant something to someone. He never wanted to go back. . .

But he knew he would sooner or later. Sooner than he wanted. When his alarm went off. He closed his eyes in pain.

"Tom?" Harry's voice was gentle, as soothing as the hand on his back. But neither eased the ache, it was too much, it hurt too badly. "Just thinking about waking up." He shook his head. "Sorry."

"We could stay here." Harry reached over to pull Tom into his arms. "I spend a lot of time here, actually."

"Waiting for me?"

"Yeah, it's peaceful. I think. I work." He shrugged. "I wait."

Tom's mind worked through the scenario a piece at a time. "But what happens to your body? What happens to my body?"

"They're right where we left them. These aren't real, but they sure seem like it, don't they?"

Tom felt the warm arms around him, the naked torso pressed up against him, and nodded. "As real as they need to be." He smiled at Harry, tentatively leaning in for a light kiss on his sweet lips, unable to resist.

But before he could continue in that direction, another thought struck him. "Harry, how did you find me? How did you get me to come here in the first place?"

"Oh, that." If Harry had been worried by the look on Tom's face, this question put him at ease. "There's this girl. . . or woman, I guess, Ocampan. You might have met her, before you left. Her name is Kes."

At Tom's blank stare, Harry continued. "Anyway, a few months ago, she started developing some new abilities, some new, I don't know, powers, I guess."

"Powers?"

"Yeah, some psychic abilities, some telekinesis, sixth sense kind of stuff. No other Ocampans have it. One of the Vulcans. . . the old one, Tuvok. . . has been helping her with it. She somehow knew where to look for you."

"Me? Or Voyager?"

"Both." Then Harry's eyes found Tom's. "We think she might be evolving into the next Caretaker."

Tom sat up, eager. "So she can send us back? Home?" This was unbelievable. "When? Why hasn't she. . . "

"Because she can't." Tom's heart sank at his words. But Harry continued, "Yet. At least, that's what we think. She's just- " Harry was apologetic. "She's very young, Tom, she's not even three years old, and she can't control things on a very large scale yet." He put a hand on Tom's arm. "But soon."

"How soon?" Tom's thoughts were immediately drawn to the desperate state of Voyager's engines right now, their total lack of medical supplies, and their precariously configured drive systems. It had better be soon.

"We don't know. . . " Harry stopped, the pain in his voice obvious. Tom could read the months. . . the years. . . in his eyes. So it was hopeless. Tom was suddenly awash in a sea of fatigue, and he drowsed for a moment before he jerked his head up and his eyes open.

"Hey, you must be getting sleepy." Harry's voice was full of concern. Damn, Tom loved that voice.

"Mmm, I am." Then the few brain cells that were still functioning asked another question, "But I'm already sleeping, right?"

Harry smiled, and suddenly there was hope again in the world. "Yeah, you're sleeping. But this has been your REM sleep. . . your dreaming sleep. Now you need some deep sleep, some resting sleep."

"Does that mean I'm going to disappear?" The ache in his chest was heavy, and getting heavier. Harry was so close, so warm, and yet still so far away.

"No, not until you wake up." Harry laid back and gently encouraged Tom to relax in his arms.

Tom obediently laid his head down on the pillow of Harry's shoulder; he couldn't hold it up a second longer. "But what about you?"

"I'm using a sleepwave modulator back home," Harry said, softly. "So I can be here whenever you are."

"So I'll see you later?" he murmured sleepily.

"Wouldn't miss it," came Harry's reply, through the mist. Tom sighed behind his closed eyes, the gentle hand stroking his hair reassuring him that they'd be back here again soon. Soon.

---

Tom entered his quarters, dirty, weary, and more than ready for bed. No, he corrected himself, ready to dream.

He stripped off his uniform, then thought about shaving. Should he? Did he need to? He tried to remember if his overnight growth of beard had bothered him last night. Or rather, if it had bothered Harry. Damn, he felt as nervous as a kid on a first date. Was that what this was? Well, he supposed, it wasn't exactly a first time for them. But still. Should he wear pajamas? Shorts?

Nah. Didn't make sense to close the bay doors after the shuttle was gone. He slipped into the narrow bed, nothing between himself and the scratchy sheets, as usual. As he ran through the relaxation exercises that would put him into the dreamstate, he focused on Harry. On Harry's golden skin. . . A long moment later, Tom woke again on the bed on the platform in the mist, Harry beside him. He turned over onto his back. Life was good.

He reached over to wake his the sleeping man, pulling the sheets back to find Harry's skin and stopped cold. Goddamn. Pajamas. Well, he knew where that had come from. Harry turned to him, rubbing his eyes. Suns and skies, he was cute when he was sleepy. "Hi, Harry." He watched as Harry's eyes traveled down his bared torso, and laughed, "I guess I'm underdressed."

Harry blushed. . . a subtle peach color on those amazingly smooth cheeks. . . and Tom smiled at him, saying, "Hey, if you're uncomfortable. . . "

"No, I," he stammered, "I thought you would be. You know, uncomfortable."

"Me? Harry, I told you last night, it was okay, didn't you get it?"

"Yeah, I heard you," he agreed readily. "But I wanted to give you a chance to think about it. To make a choice- " He closed his eyes.

Tom reached for him, touching the wonderfully warm body, and again was struck by how familiar. . . how practiced. . . this felt, though he couldn't remember doing it before. How right it felt. He needed to make Harry understand. "Well, I choose to do this. I choose you. If I could have, I would have chosen this from the start, I would have always chosen to be with you." The pain of their parting when Voyager left Ocampa was still in his heart, though it was quickly being replaced by new emotions. He pressed his lips to Harry's temple, then looked into his eyes, willing him to believe.

"Tom- " Harry's voice was like a caress. And then they were kissing, so warm and soft, feeling like the first kiss ever to touch Tom's lips. It was sunshine and starbursts and Tom pulled back to look deeply into those sparkling brown eyes before touching his lips to Harry's again and again.

Harry's kisses began moving across his cheek and down his throat. Tom held himself still, murmuring, "So good. Harry™" Those beautiful lips were kissing his chest now, licking his nipples, and Tom was melting. He wanted and needed this so much, he had to have more. He twisted briefly and turned Harry onto his back. From the shocked look on Harry's face, he realized he was breaking new ground. Harry whispered, "This is great, Tom. It's like this is our first time."

"No," Tom smiled at his lover, savoring the emotion, "It feels like we've been doing this forever." He dipped his head and tasted Harry's skin for the first time, and it was as sweet as he remembered. "This feels so real. I can't believe we're not really here."

As Tom's tongue found his nipple, Harry gasped, "Feels real enough to me."

Tom agreed wholeheartedly. Then he concentrated on paying his lover back for all those weeks of passivity, knowing he could never make it up, but eager to try.

---

Tom found himself actually whistling as he walked the passageways, garnering more than a few strange looks from his crewmates. But nothing could shake the good mood he found himself in these days. Not even the increasingly dire conditions Voyager was experiencing. He headed back to his cabin, putting the rations situation out of his mind. You didn't need rations to sleep.

Life on Voyager wasn't getting any better, but the dreams with Harry, well, they were definitely becoming hard to beat! He and Harry had only had a few stolen hours to get to know each other before they were separated on Ocampa. But here, they had spent months now, talking, really learning about their lives before the delta quadrant, and in it. And making love, of course. Harry knew just how to soothe him after a hard day on board Voyager, and even though Harry couldn't massage his tired muscles, his mental well-being more than made up for it.

He laid down in his single bunk and started his nightly ritual, thanking the dream people, the Ocampans, all the gods he could think of, and Harry, who kept him sane. And went to sleep.

He woke up on the bed in the mist, looking around. No Harry. Damn.

He sank back onto the pillows. Probably had to do with his own absence the night before. There had been a change in the duty shifts, and he hadn't been able to let Harry know. They'd found a 'spatial phenomena'. . . not a wormhole, though they had their hopes up for a time. The boys in astrogation had said it was more of a 'wrinkle,' and they were still trying to determine what it had done for them, if anything. This trip sure was giving him an appreciation for a competent science staff and properly functioning instruments. It would have been nice to know right away what their new position was, though his initial unqualified analysis said they were only a few light years closer to their goal.

But all the excitement had meant he'd been on the bridge for a double shift, guiding the ship through the eye of the needle. And now he was exhausted, needing Harry more than ever, and off his sleep cycle by several hours. It had happened before, but that didn't make it any easier to go without touching and holding his lover, his friend. He wondered if Harry knew just how important he was to Tom, just how crucial he was to Tom's survival. He resolved to tell him when he got here. Tom decided to get some resting sleep while he waited, trusting that Harry would wake him up when he arrived.

Tom awoke some time later, expecting to find Harry's welcoming arms, but the emptiness still surrounded him. No Harry. Wait, no, what was that? It was a ghost, an insubstantial wisp of. . . "Harry?"

"Tom- " came the barest of voices. He could feel it more than hear it.

"Harry, what's going on? Where are you?"

"Tom, listen. Kes says you're getting too far away. Voyager's last jump was more than the dream link can sustain." Tom could sense the emotions Harry was feeling through their link, somehow, and it wasn't a good feeling. His voice continued, "This is probably the last time we'll meet like this."

In that instant, Tom's world crumbled into his hands. He fought the lump in his throat; he needed to tell Harry so many things.

"Wait, Tom, don't panic. She thinks. . . well, she thinks she can help."

"She can pull Voyager back to Ocampa?" It wasn't going home, but it would save their skins until she could send them there. Not the best solution, but acceptable.

"No," he paused, and Tom puzzled over the possibilities.

"No? Then what?" What could she possibly do to help, if not that?

"Tom. She can't move the entire ship. She could, she thinks, pull a person back." He could hear the break in Harry's voice. "She could pull you back."

"What?" He couldn't mean it, but the look on Harry's face said he did. Tom groaned out loud. "Harry, how can you ask me that. . . again?" It was the same choice he'd had to make on Ocampa, when they'd first been stranded in the delta quadrant. The choice to stay on a safe planet, hoping that someday a powerful entity would travel there and be able to send them home. Or to follow Captain Janeway and find their own way home among the stars. "Harry, you know what you're asking me, don't you?" Asking him to leave Captain Janeway, the person who had faith in him when no one else did. Who still believed in him, relied on him every day. How could he ever leave her, even now?

"It's different now, Tom, don't you see that? There's a good chance that Kes will be able to move the ship, soon, maybe a year or two. And you know that life on Voyager wasn't what you expected, the delta quadrant is a lot different, and you don't have star maps, you don't have any experience with the people, the cultures. . . "

"I know that, Harry." Tom interrupted the litany, then sighed. "Don't ask me to do this. Please."

"But I have to ask. I- " Harry's tears carried through his faint voice, "What will I do without you, Tom?" The unspoken question echoed in Tom's head. What would he do without Harry?

"You'll be fine, Harry. You can help Kes, right? You can work with her to. . . "

"Tom, she's growing fast, learning more control every day. But it's still not enough for the ship, and won't be for a while." He took a breath, and his image wavered. "You know Voyager's chances."

Tom knew them all too well. "But I can't leave them, Harry. If I did, the odds would go down even more."

"Tom. I don't want you to die." Those deep eyes, fading with each breath, with each word, bore into him as Harry pleaded, "I need you."

"Oh, Harry, don't you know I need you, too? So much." He closed his eyes briefly against the need, sensing the link fading, then opened them again, wanting to have as much of Harry as he could get before his supply was cut off.

Harry's voice was a passionate plea, rapidly losing control. "Look, if you won't come, I can ask Kes to send me to Voyager. We can be together. I can help. . . "

Tom's guts clenched at the thought of Harry on board this ship, subjected to the violence, to the hostility, to the deprivation. "No. No way, Harry. You are not coming here. Promise me now, Harry."

"But. . . "

Tom's mind whirled. The link was almost gone. He needed a plan to forestall Harry, and he needed it now. "Look. Here's what I'll do. I'll convince the captain to park the ship somewhere, hide it somewhere safe. And we'll put the crew to sleep. We'll wait until you come get us, okay?"

"Tom- " But there was no time left, and they could only stare helplessly at each other's image. Tom whispered, "sweet dreams, Harry" into the thickening mist. He wanted to tell Harry how much he missed him already, how much he wanted to hold him. That he felt. . . that he loved him. He hadn't prepared to say goodbye like this, hadn't thought he would ever have to. Dreams shouldn't have limits; they should be infinite. It wasn't fair, it wasn't. . . But there were no more words as Harry's precious visage faded into nothing. And then he was gone.

Tom couldn't really tell if Harry had heard him, had understood what he was going to do. But now it was too late and Tom was alone. More alone than he had ever been, even in prison back on Earth, when everyone had abandoned him.

Then, he hadn't known Harry.

---

Tom waited until the door closed behind him before he allowed himself to breathe. In, out. In, out. Okay.

Everyone on the bridge was staring at him. Oh, they weren't really staring, but he felt every eye as he walked stiffly to the turbolift. He prayed the door would open properly and he'd be able to exit cleanly.

The gods were smiling today, and he pressed his hands and forehead against the side of the lift as it started its shaky descent. They may have heard voices through the door of the briefing room, but he knew the insulation was sufficient to muffle the words. They might guess, but no one knew what the argument had been about, that knowledge was limited to just the three of them in the room, the captain, the commander, and himself.

And that was as far as it was going to go. He needed to finally give up and face reality, the reality that had been suspended while he and Harry had shared their dreams. It would take some time, though. . . more than the time he had spent trying to get the captain to listen to him, to hide the ship, to use their last remaining power to keep the crew in stasis until they could be sent home. But, as the commander had so neatly pointed out to him, he had no proof whatsoever. He had no response to their questions, no answer as to why they should believe him.

Oh, he supposed he could teach the dreaming techniques to someone else on board, but without actual contact with someone they knew, someone back on Ocampa who could confirm what he'd been saying, what was the point? He admitted it was pretty farfetched anyway. Long distance cohabitational dreaming? Right. He wouldn't have believed it, either.

So now he would have to struggle on without Harry. He could still dream though, he could still spend his nights in the place they had shared; he'd been able to find it without too much trouble the last few nights. It was comforting, somehow. But not satisfying, not satisfying at all. It didn't come close to balancing the stress he was under when he was forced to be awake.

And it wasn't just him, the whole crew was buckling under the pressure, couldn't the captain see that? They couldn't risk trading for foodstuffs or energy; when they'd tried, nine times out of ten it had ended badly, with lost crew or lost resources. They had resorted to foraging through wreckage or on uninhabited planets, which were few and far between. And there had been no way to get replacement parts for the mechanical and electrical failures they'd experienced. Voyager was quickly losing subsystem after subsystem and there was no sign that it would improve. It was a crippled ship and Tom felt crippled along with it. But escape from the nightmare was impossible. The crew kept themselves entertained while they waited for that unavoidable hostile encounter that would prove fatal, or the simple shorted circuit that would sap so much power they couldn't make it to the next system. Some took bets on how long they would last. Others immersed themselves in petty politics, which Tom likened to rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Not that anyone on board knew what the hell he meant by that.

Tom usually ignored all of it; he had found his own way to cope. He let himself dream of Harry, let himself relive some of their times together in the dreamstate. He found himself daydreaming, of Harry, with him, on Voyager. He occasionally jerked back to reality from these forays into imagination, panicked that Harry had gone against his wishes and had the young Caretaker send him here. A few deep breaths later, and he would recover. It wasn't real. Harry was safe on Ocampa, and that was all that mattered.

---

The alarm went off again, and Tom tried to drag himself out of bed. Damn it all to hell and back, it was difficult these days to even do that. Wait, what was he thinking. . . he was already in hell. Or close enough that it didn't matter.

Seating himself at the conn a few minutes later, he used the familiar calibration rituals to put the situation out of his mind. A quiet shift is what I need right now, he thought, and I'll be fine. It will be fine, he repeated to himself, in the hope that wishing might make it so. But it was not to be. As he watched the formation of ships appear on his screen, he remembered thinking the course they'd chosen had seemed too good to be true. Of course it was. It was a goddamned Vidiian setup, that's what it was.

It had to happen sometime, Tom thought. Voyager's actuators had hummed and her gelpacs had charged and discharged, and things had somehow held together until the unfortunate day they met the Vidiians. In the unluckiest of all unlucky universes, they had to meet these fucking sadists in battle. They'd managed to avoid them for months, skirting their territory, but today was their lucky day, and the double star called Iria was their Waterloo. Tom quickly veered away from their course, searching for a path to safety, but he could see no way out.

They were totally outgunned, virtually surrounded, and Tom tried every piloting trick he knew to maneuver with no success. There was bedlam on the bridge, consoles sparking and smoking, the captain and the commander shouting orders behind him, each countermanding every other one, until he stopped listening and did what he wanted. And still no way out.

Tom found himself muttering, "I told you so, we could have hidden from these bastards," though he knew it was not constructive to think it, let alone say it. It was over, over for him, over for Voyager. They had tried hard, but luck had abandoned them, finally. He was still vainly attempting to maneuver them out of range, knowing it was futile, flinching from the fatal blow, when. . .

The ship disappeared in a flash of light. Tom immediately recognized it for what it was. . . the same lurching feeling as when Caretaker took them to the delta quadrant more than a year ago. He picked himself up off the floor, shaken, and checked their coordinates, not allowing himself to hope until he had. It only took him a few seconds to determine they weren't far from the Irian system, but far enough that they were out of danger.

"What happened?" someone asked. "Where are we, Mr. Paris?" That was definitely the captain.
Tom gave her the readings. She was silent, processing the information, studying the Ops screens. Then she strode off, looking determined. "Ensign, Commander, my ready room." Though there were three other ensigns on the bridge, everyone knew from her tone of voice that she meant him. He had no choice but to follow.

As the doors closed, and before either of them could say a word, he started in, intent on the captain. "You felt it, you know what that was. They're helping us."

"We know nothing if the kind, Captain," Seska broke in, strident. It was only what Tom expected from her, she had never given him a break since the beginning.

He tried in vain to keep the emotion out of his voice, not wanting to drop to the Bajoran's level. "Look, all I know is that we were about to be blown into atomic dust, and suddenly, we weren't." Tom saw this as his last chance to convince her, and he had to try, even risking insubordination and a stint in the brig. His voice rose, but he managed to stay calm, saying, "You wanted proof. There's your proof." The captain turned away, impassive, as always.

"That could have been anything," she said, and then added under her breath, "This quadrant surprises me every day." Her voice sounded as defeated as Tom had ever heard her. She couldn't be admitting the idiocy of this mission, not Captain Janeway, Tom knew that.

Seska seized the opportunity. "Captain, we can't just give up now. We have survived. . . we are surviving, and we're making progress. Toward home." She turned to glare at Tom, and continued, "To stop now, to hide somewhere. . . " She stopped, gesturing as if it were perfectly obvious just what the consequences of such action would be. The derision in her voice was palpable, which only prompted Tom to counter her argument, interjecting,

"There's no other explanation, Captain."

Janeway folded her arms, visibly shielding herself from his words, looking out at the new star system they found themselves in.

He finally offered, "At least consider the possibility. This new Caretaker could move us a little; it won't be long until she can take us all the way. All I'm asking is that you have a little faith, that we give it more time." His shoulders slumped as he realized neither of them was listening to him. He finished weakly, "We just have to stay out of trouble for a little longer."

"I'll consider it, Mr. Paris." Janeway nodded her head, dismissing him.

As he neared the door, he heard her speak once more, "Ensign." He turned.

She wasn't looking at him as she asked, quietly, "Have you discussed your 'theories' with any of the crew?"

"No," he answered honestly, surprised at her question. To have done so would violate their relationship. That she had to ask violated it as well.

"Please don't in the future," she replied in a cold tone that set his spine rigid. But he replied, "Aye, Captain," as required by protocol. She was still commanding the ship, and he was still her crew. He glanced at Seska, expecting and not disappointed by her triumphant look. What was her game? Why did she always take the other side of any argument with him? She really did seem smarter than that.

Unable to help the glowering look he threw at the two of them, but thanking the stars neither of them noticed, he turned and went back to the conn. He noted the self-repair systems had been functioning and they had regained control of the ship. Dutiful Ensign Paris worked quickly, putting things to rights and laying out their course from their new position. And Tom let the tiny sliver of hope that had taken hold in his heart melt away.

---

Stepping into the turbolift and crossing his fingers it would make it to the bridge, Tom prepared himself for another day on duty, vaguely wondering how many more times he would have even this luxury. He took his place at the conn, biting off a variety of comments, none of which he would voice. No one would listen, he knew that. A month ago, the captain had said she would consider changing their course, that she would consider stopping and waiting for help. For about twenty picoseconds maybe, she had considered it, before she decided to go on with their so-called journey home.

Meanwhile, Voyager continued to limp along, all the more frustrating for Tom because he knew there was an alternative. In the last two weeks, they had been forced into several dangerous situations in order to refuel, and had met some unavoidable battles. And then had been unable to repair the damages. More than frustrating, Tom thought, chewing his lip. There had been two more inexplicable transports, and still the captain wouldn't listen. He'd briefly considered trying to work on Seska, arguing for the safer course. But she barely tolerated him, and only because Janeway forced her to, so that wasn't an option. She had never tried to hide her dislike of him, even back in the Maquis. He wondered at times what had prompted her to join their fateful voyage; she'd always struck him as far more practical than most people.

As for the rest of the crew, he wondered what kind of hell these people had left, that made Voyager a viable place to stay. The few real troublemakers had been put off the ship in the first couple of months, rather violently against their will. He supposed even the sorry state of the Federation ship was better than many options out there in this quadrant. Another alternative, but really no alternative at all, was to talk to the gangs below decks. Tom considered that, not seriously, of course, but he didn't have anything else to focus on, so scenarios continued to pop into his head, and he toyed with each before discarding each in favor of simply waiting. The endless waiting. As bad as the conditions on the job were, the waiting was infinitely worse. Waiting for this to end, one way or the other. Sometimes Tom thought he wouldn't be able to go on, but he faced every day because Harry had wanted him to. He was keeping the ship going for Harry now, somehow exchanging that for his allegiance to the captain.

And it was looking like it was going to be another one of those days when Harry's strength would be the only thing getting him through. The signals on his panel were just what he wasn't hoping for.

"Two warships materializing off the port bow," he called out.

The crew leapt into action, Seska calling "Red alert!"

The captain, running to the ops station, sounded frantic as she ordered, "Evasive action, Mr. Paris."

Tom had barely managed to initiate the maneuvering sequence when he felt the familiar lurch in his abdomen. He pulled his hands back from the controls, knowing what was happening and hearing the confirmation from the rest of the bridge crew.

After it was over, he reported their coordinates to the captain, concluding, "We're seven light years from any other ships or systems." He turned to send an accusatory glance her way, unable to keep his eyes to himself as well as his tongue, when a new voice caught his attention.

"Captain Janeway?" Tom turned and saw a young woman with short blonde hair and a pixie's face, dressed in flowing robes. He flinched as most of the crew drew weapons, realizing they feared another, perhaps more subtle assault. Tom blinked at the apparition, and suddenly knew it must be Kes, the Ocampan woman Harry had told him about. He sagged in his chair with relief. Their visitor turned without hesitation to the ops station. "Captain, I just moved your ship out of a near-fatal situation. I hoped you would not repay me with more violence." The blonde woman hadn't budged, and Tom admired her calm in the face of all those weapons.

Janeway hesitated only a second, but recovered her command voice quickly, ordering, "Don't fire." Then she addressed their visitor. "Perhaps we need to thank you." The woman smiled graciously, saying,

"You're welcome, Captain." Then she paused, and the smile disappeared. "But we do need to talk."

Janeway nodded and gestured to a doorway off the bridge. "This way." Begra, the chief of security, preceded them in, along with the commander. Tom rose to follow regardless of the lack of an invitation. As the captain ushered them into the conference room, Tom wondered if the nightmare was finally over. Please, he thought. Please.

The senior staff was assembled quickly, and the woman began, "My name is Kes, and I live on Ocampa." She looked around the room, uncertain. "Some of you visited there when Voyager first arrived in this quadrant," she said, as her eyes stopped on Tom, and he felt the warmth in her gaze down to his toes. Tom was struck by the maturity she evinced, so different from her youthful appearance. He knew she was only a few years old, from Harry's description, but she had clearly gained a lot of experience during that time.

The rest of the crew around the table listened in silence as Kes related the story of Voyager's fateful journey to the delta quadrant and the death of the entity that had caused it. She described her own realization, with the help of Mr. Tuvok, that she would someday have the same power, the power to send Voyager back home.

Tom stared resolutely ahead, thinking, I told you so. I told you.

Then Kes's clear and confident voice overrode all of his thoughts. "I have to ask you, Captain, to please take a safer course. I can continue to move Voyager out of trouble, but it's wasting your time and mine." The captain, attentive but still processing this information, was silent.

Kes continued, "I hope it won't be much longer, possibly a few months from now, until I can send your ship all the way back to the alpha quadrant. I don't understand these powers I have, but I feel them growing stronger. Until then, please, listen to me. Conserve your resources, and protect yourselves." Concluding her plea, she sat back and waited for a response.

Tom could see the two options as they appeared in the captain's mind. They could ignore this warning and continue on. That was Seska's position, and Janeway glanced at the commander only briefly before turning her eyes back to the Ocampan woman. She was asking them to give up their quest, to go to sleep and wait. Janeway had been trained never to fail, and she clearly didn't want to admit it was even possible, but she didn't want the ship to be destroyed, either. Tom knew she had wanted to find her own way home, and to hide in an asteroid belt or on an uninhabited planet with the crew in suspension was not her particular brand of starship captain.

He didn't envy her choice. He of all people knew how difficult it would be for her to stop moving, to stop flying, to stop striving to do her best. That philosophy was ingrained in everyone who went through Starfleet academy, and the ones it rooted in most deeply were the ones who became Captains. He'd seen the same thing in several he'd known, especially his father. Tom had felt, on one hand, a little left out that he didn't have this indefinable thing, but he also felt relieved of the burdens that came with it. Janeway had accepted this responsibility, and her indecision was painted across her features. But finally, the face of reason appeared, and she nodded to Kes,

"All right. We'll take your advice."

Kes smiled, and Tom couldn't help but smile with her. Her voice was kind as she replied, "Captain, I'll return as soon as I can and send the ship back to where it was taken from, or to wherever your crew wants to go."

Wherever. Well, Tom certainly didn't want to go home with Voyager, not if Harry was still on this side of the galaxy. He jumped in, asking, "What about the rest of our crew? The ones who stayed behind on Ocampa?"

Kes turned to him, "Tom, I don't know." He wasn't surprised she knew his name. "I haven't asked any of them what their wishes are. But they could stay or go with you." She nodded. "I will give everyone a choice."

A choice. Tom had been offered this choice before, more than once, and neither one had been a real option for him. If he'd had one, it would always be wherever Harry was. He thought furtively of asking Kes to take him back there now. After all, the ship wouldn't be flying, and the captain would surely understand why he wouldn't want to return to the alpha quadrant.

Of course she would understand; she was the one who took him out of Federation prison for this mission. Though he was only supposed to be gone for two, maybe three weeks, not two, maybe three years. And he'd given her his word because she'd given them her word that she would bring him back. That was her brand of starship captain. And his, too, he realized. Honor was bred far too deeply into both of them, overriding logic, overriding common sense, overriding even lives, including their own.

Maybe it was finally time to break that pattern. After coming so close to death, Tom had a sudden appreciation for how short their lives were. And how one missed chance could mean forever.

He'd been offered the choice twice, once on Ocampa, and once in that last dream with Harry. Could he refuse it a third time? Not that the captain would ever ask. She was a person who made commitments and stuck to them. She'd promised to get them home, and she wasn't going to rest until she'd done it. This little delay wouldn't hurt her career; she was certainly still young enough to follow the path of his father, her mentor, and become an admiral in Starfleet. Surviving a mission like this would almost guarantee it. Time would show her that this was no failure on her part.

And he couldn't be the thing that made her mission a failure. Oh, he might have died out here, and she would be forgiven that. He was a criminal, after all. But to leave him here, when she could have brought him back, that wasn't possible. Not for her. And not even for him. He'd made his life what it was, and escape, no matter how sweet, wasn't a path he could follow. He'd tried after Caldik Prime, but he couldn't live with the half-truths he'd told. But especially, he couldn't do that to her, couldn't abandon her now, couldn't contribute to what she would consider an even worse failure. He could already see her going through the denial, the guilt, the anger, and wondered how long it would take her to truly accept that she had done everything she could. No, she would need him around for a long time to come. He couldn't leave now, even if it were possible. So he kept his own counsel as Kes indicated some possibilities where Voyager might wait for her. But he wanted to ask how Harry was, if he was sleeping well, if he. . .

Too many things. More and more of him was starting to believe they might live through this, that he might really see Harry again, even if it wasn't forever. To really see him, in the flesh, for just a moment, would make the rest of his days bearable. It had been too much to ask for just hours ago, but now, just maybe, it was possible.

Finally, Kes stood up, and addressed all of them. "I assure you I will track your safety until then, as well as I am able. I feel somehow responsible for all of your troubles, and want to do my best to remedy what I can."

Captain Janeway answered her calmly. "We appreciate your help. We'll wait." She was trying to be gracious, Tom could tell, but it was clearly a strain.

Then Kes turned to Seska, and gave her an intent stare. "Commander, I hope you will be able to wait patiently as well." Tom sensed something unsaid between them, but couldn't fathom what it could be.

Seska merely nodded, a gesture Kes returned before disappearing.

---

It didn't take long for them to find someplace to hide. There was no reason for anyone to look inside the crevice on the asteroid they'd found; it was just a big chunk of basalt in an uninhabited system with no value to anyone. And with their power systems set to minimum levels, it would be difficult for anyone to even detect them if they were looking, and they knew they wouldn't show up on long-range scans.

There was a sort of overwhelming sense of relief among the crew when Janeway made the announcements about their future. Most of the crew accepted the situation, though a few voiced complaints about this being a coward's way out. Tom hoped Janeway didn't hear too much from that contingent.

Seska was the puzzle in this whole thing. Even though it was clear to everyone else, she refused to believe this would get them home any sooner. Janeway had ordered her to set up the duty roster and the sleep roster, and she was doing it reluctantly. Tom had been assigned the disagreeable chore of activating the Doctor, who had, after requiring far more information than Tom would have needed, recommended three-week rotations of sleep, with two days of waking duty before the next sleep rotation. Tom debated telling him about the abdulation techniques he had learned, thinking the crew could dream together, but he wasn't sure if someone could be killed in a dreamstate. With the factions still active among the crew, and emotions running the way they were now, he wouldn't put it past some of them. Things were going better, or at least they were more predictable, but Tom couldn't help worrying about the captain. She had looked so defeated since Kes had visited. He wanted to protect her, somehow, from the animosity of some of the crew. It all came to a head at a staff meeting where they were finalizing plans for the hibernation.

Seska had been unable to keep her damn mouth shut, arguing that more and more of the crew stay awake. "Captain, we're vulnerable out here. We will need protection from any number of things that might find us."

Janeway refused to be swayed, but there was no passion in her reply. "Commander Seska, you know what will happen if we leave half the crew to roam the ship. First of all, they will use food and life support at four times the rate of the sleeping crew. Second. . . and you know this better than anyone. . . there will be a much higher chance for infighting if people are awake."

This only added fuel to Seska's flame. Her eyes flashed. "Exactly my point. We will need more security. . . "

Finally, Tom's outrage at Seska and his need to protect the captain overcame his vow to keep out of this conflict, and he cut her off. "Commander, why won't you let go of this? She's made her decision."

She almost hissed at him. "Ensign, I didn't ask your opinion."

"But you need to. . . "

"Stop," came the captain's weak plea. Her fatigue was evident not only in her voice, but also in the limp hand warding them off, and in her entire carriage. Regardless of the discouraging comparison to her old self, they both obeyed her command.

"Commander," she said, "You will post the schedule, as we discussed, at 1700 hours." She turned her head, finally, to look at the Bajoran. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain," she acceded.

Tom admired that. When push came to shove, Seska could take orders from Janeway with the best of them. Tom had rarely been able to obey an order he didn't understand without question, but he was getting better at keeping his questions to himself.

"Dismissed," the captain ordered. Tom breathed a sigh of relief as the meeting ended and everyone headed for the door. But his head dropped when she added, "Mr. Paris, a word." Oh, shit. He should have known better. He did know better.

He waited patiently until the doors closed behind the last of the senior staff. He turned to find her staring gloomily out at the rock that filled the view from the windows here.

"I miss the stars, too," he said, gently, "But I don't miss the stress of being out there."

She turned slowly to face him. "Yes," then, "You know better than to confront Seska, Mr.Paris. We don't have much longer out here, apparently. I don't think you want to spend that time in the brig."

"No, Captain." He knew he should apologize, promise to do better, say the same things he'd always said in response to a reprimand, but he couldn't wrap himself around the lie this time. "I. . . I think you're being too hard on yourself."

She gave him one of her rare smiles. "That's what captains do, Tom. You should know that."

Of course he did. But she didn't deserve this. "Look, if no one else has done it, I want to thank you for getting us this far. I know the chances for us surviving to this point weren't good, and I wanted to let you know I. . . well, that I think you did a great job."

She had no ready reply, and the look on her face didn't change. She shook her head slowly, "No, Tom. I failed this ship. I failed the crew."

Tom knew that was how she felt. It had been written on her face, in her posture, for days. But he didn't understand it. "How can you say that?" he asked. "You're the one who told me that doing your best wasn't failure. You can't tell me you didn't give this ship, this mission, everything you had."

This stopped her for a moment. "I thought I did, Tom," she said, her voice wistful. "But there were so many choices, so many chances to make mistakes. The first decision I made. . . to destroy the Caretaker array. . . may have been a good one, but look where it got us. And the decision to leave with the ship rather than stay on Ocampa, now we know that was clearly wrong. I should have listened to Tuvok, and the rest of the staff. Tuvok was my best friend and my right hand, and I ignored his opinion." She turned to face the wall, concluding, "He was right, they were all right."

Tom was outraged by her passivity. Where was Captain Janeway, the woman who had led them through some of the most harrowing battles and horrible first contacts on record? He couldn't let this other person replace the captain he knew and admired so much.

"Captain, you don't know that. I learned a long time ago that it's impossible to second-guess your decisions. 'If only' is no way to live." He'd beaten himself up pretty badly on that count before he'd learned to stick with his decisions and be satisfied.

He came around the table, wanting her to believe him. "Who's to say that if we'd stayed, this Kes woman wouldn't have left, or died, or never made the effort to develop her abilities, or even to care about sending us home?" She looked at him, her eyes focused now, and he went on, "Maybe it was the idea of us out here, risking our lives, that led Tuvok to help her. We just don't know." She looked as though she was considering his words, and he prayed she would hear him out. "And what about all we've learned out here? We know more about the delta quadrant than we could ever have learned sitting on a planet somewhere. We have our sensor logs, and our ops logs, all this information we'll be taking back with us, so the Federation can learn what's out here."

Tom didn't think he'd said this many words to the captain at one time ever in his life. But there was so much to say, he wanted to grab her arms and shake her until she understood. "And we have our personal logs. We have all the knowledge we've gained about ourselves out here. I know I've learned more about myself than I bargained for, and I'm betting everyone else has, too." He was pleading with her now, "And we survived, Captain. We lived to tell the tale. If you call that failure, I'm not sure what success would be."

Janeway turned to look at him, and Tom was gratified to see more life in her eyes that he'd seen in days. She nodded, slowly. "You make some good points, Tom," she said. "But you still need to learn that Seska is not a person to cross." He smiled with her, now. "Maybe we'll all survive to learn that lesson, eh?" She clapped a hand across his back. "Dismissed, Ensign."

He nodded and turned to go, but stopped when he heard a soft "thank you" from behind him. He turned, and she said, "I appreciate your support, even though I know how difficult this has been for you."

Difficult? She didn't know the half of it. Well, maybe she did know some of the problems; she was a good captain and knew most of what went on below decks. But she didn't know the joy that had been sandwiched between them. Looking back, he thought the time he'd spent with Harry was actually the best period of his life. Was it because it was that wonderful, or was it just so much better than the squalor that surrounded it? No, it had been that good, more than good. He wondered briefly, though, what it might have been if he'd stayed on Ocampa in the beginning, or if he'd met Harry at some other place and time.

He shook his head. There he was, telling the captain not to second guess herself, and here he was, questioning his own judgement. He'd made his choice; in fact, he'd made it twice. And it was the right decision, because it was what he had decided at the time. No 'if onlys,' he reminded his wayward subconscious. He gazed up at Janeway, who looked far more like herself now. There was no benefit in telling her all these things; she didn't need his burdens as well as her own. The captain had been given a second chance to make her choice, and was finally choosing what was best. Maybe her way. . . changing your path. . . was better. Who knew? Humans needed to have dreams, and she did, and Tom hated to see them dashed. Tom hadn't been able to hope or to dream for too long, and Harry had given that back to him. It was more than he could hope for, and he was grateful for their brief time together. In another world, they might not have had even that.

"It's been hard on all of us," he responded, finally.

The captain's comm unit beeped, and she answered, "Janeway here."

Seska's voice came in, strident. "I've been working on the scheduling, Captain. I need your opinion."

Janeway cleared her throat. "I'm still in the briefing room. Can you meet me here?"

"Yes, Captain," she replied, and in only a heartbeat, she was at the door.

Tom shook his head. She must have been waiting on the bridge for him to leave and had become impatient. She probably wanted to be in on the dressing down that he had expected from the captain. He was glad it had turned into something more, and not solely because it would disappoint the commander.

Seska came into the room, still vibrating with anger, and Tom turned to go. He knew his presence would merely cause more strife between the two women. But Janeway stopped him, saying, "Tom, wait a moment. This won't take long." He nodded, and took a position at the window, studying their position against the asteroid.

He ignored the hateful look from Seska as she laid a PADD down on the table in front of the captain. "It's the Maquis situation, captain. I know you don't want to leave the ship in charge of only ex-Maquis for any period of time. But there just aren't enough qualified personnel to cover things otherwise."

Janeway picked up the PADD, studying the numbers. Suddenly, she let out a harsh laugh. At Tom's puzzled look, she explained, "I'm trying not to think about what might have been, Tom. But I can't help wondering how things might have been different if Chakotay had survived."

They shared a smile of commiseration, when Seska burst out, "How can you joke about that?" She was suddenly shaking with rage. "Chakotay would have made all the difference. He would have had the guts to survive out here. . . he wouldn't have given up like a whimpering child in the face of a few bullies!"

Tom felt it was his place to apologize again, and he started, "I know. . . "

Seska lunged at him across the table, shrieking, "You! It's all your fault. You killed him! You hated him! But he didn't. . . he. . . " Janeway hit her comm badge at once.

"Security, to the briefing room."

Tom battled the enraged Bajoran whose hands were at his throat. He fought her grip, but deep down he knew it was his fault despite the fact that he hadn't meant to kill the man. Tom distinctly remembered being desperate to save him. And in that instant, he heard what the commander had said, and he suddenly understood what she meant, that Chakotay hadn't hated Tom. For all the surface animosity between them, Tom realized he'd known all along that the Maquis captain hadn't hated him. Tom remembered only now the forgiveness he'd seen in the man's eyes as the metal gave way and their hands slipped. The acceptance, the peace, as Chakotay fell to his death. He had forgiven Tom for all of it, even the last.

As the world grayed out after what seemed like hours of pressure on his throat, two security officers appeared out of nowhere and dragged her off of him. Seska was shaking with rage but had stopped screaming as she was subdued. Tom gasped for breath, but waved Janeway off, croaking, "I'm all right." As his head cleared, his thoughts followed. He turned to Seska, wanting to explain, saying gently but firmly, "He didn't hate me, Commander. And I didn't hate him. That's not why he died. It was just fate that caused those stairs to collapse. It wasn't anyone's fault."

The burning hatred in Seska's eyes slowly turned to resignation, and she looked down. He knew she had finally accepted the truth as well. She had so much hate inside her, she couldn't bear to acknowledge that Chakotay had died at peace, but the man could have died no other way. Anyone who had known him should have known that, too. Seska wanted to hang on to the picture she had; she wanted, somehow, to lay blame, and she had made Tom pay every day since. He felt the sweet air in his lungs, and suddenly felt sorry for her. Tom knew that Chakotay's guidance had helped her, and that without it, she was not the same person. She had changed slowly since they'd been out there, but it was clear to him now how unstable she was.

With a nod from Janeway, the guards took her away. Though Tom was breathing much easier, she helped him into a chair. After a moment, he really did feel like he might live, and looked up to see the PADD sitting in front of him. He raised his head to meet her eyes. "Looks like I need some help, Tom." Her smile was back, really back this time. "Can you work on the schedule while I check on our ex- Commander?"

Tom nodded his agreement, immensely glad they were on the same side again. He knew his faith in her wasn't unfounded. She would get them home, and Tom was more than happy to do his part.

---

A few days later, as Tom settled into his capsule for his first three-week shift, he reflected on how problems sometimes work themselves out. Seska had suffered some sort of seizure soon after she arrived in the brig and never regained consciousness. The Doctor program was activated but couldn't make a diagnosis, probably because whatever was wrong wasn't in its admittedly vast database. The EMH concept was a good idea, but all its sophisticated programming was useless when you needed a real doctor who could reason and extrapolate. A piece of software, no matter how detailed its database, just couldn't be expected to exhibit real intelligence. Seeing her in sickbay, it was obvious to Tom that some of her basic systems were failing, and failing fatally. With no other recourse, they had sedated her and left her in stasis, hoping it would be enough to keep her alive until they were able to get back to Federation medical treatment.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the drugs to take effect and trying to relax, when he had an unwelcome vision of Seska. She had anger eating her from inside, ripping away her skin and hair, and leaving only something scaly and ugly. He scrunched his eyes shut. That wasn't what he wanted to dream about for three weeks. No. He was going to dream of Harry. He was going to hope that Kes had found some way for them to be together during this time. Harry. Harry. Mist filled the capsule, and he dreamed.

---

And so the months went by. Every time Tom struggled up out of the depths of sleep, he mumbled his thanks to Kes for keeping them safe, and every time he laid back down in his capsule, he used thoughts of her watching over him, and watching over Harry, to help him relax. It comforted him to think that someday, possibly even now, she might be able to hear his words. His prayers, really. It was no wonder the Ocampans thought of the Caretaker as a god.

Finally, the day came when he woke up to find most of the crew awake as well. It was strange to hear so many voices after, what had it been, fifteen or sixteen cycles? He knew he'd only been awake for about thirty days over the past year, but it had seemed like forever. He wondered how long it had seemed to-

Wait, if they were being awakened, it was because Kes had returned. Which might mean she had brought some of the old crew with her. Harry. For the first time, he wondered if Harry would even want to see him. Or if he really wanted to see Harry. Oh, Tom wanted to see him, no doubt about that, but his heart ached when he thought about saying goodbye again. It might be now, it might be in a week or two, but there was no way they could ever continue the relationship they'd shared in the dreamworld. That's what it had been, a dream, and it was one Tom wanted to dream again and again. But it wasn't real, had never been real, could never be real. . . not with what faced him back in the alpha quadrant.

Tom steeled himself to get up out of his cocoon and resolve his future. Facing forward was what he did best.

He followed the stream of passengers to cargo bay three, the biggest open space on board. The captain was there already, talking to Kes. Tom felt a wave of relief at the sight. Maybe it really was going to be all right. He saw the group of strangers on the far side of the bay. It took him a minute to figure out who they were, but he hadn't really expected to recognize any of them. Except for one, of course. He was almost afraid to look for anything familiar, though he couldn't stop himself from studying the group. They seemed a little fearful as they looked around the bay with curiosity. Well, they hadn't seen the ship for well over two years; of course they were curious. None were wearing Starfleet uniforms, and Tom wondered what they had been doing on the planet for so long, while the rest of the crew had been dedicated to keeping the ship intact, and had been suffering the hardships of the delta quadrant.

No, these people looked well-fed and fit, in beautiful robes, wearing alien pendants. And now they were going to ride home, fly back to the alpha quadrant with the rest of us, with the stupid ones who stayed on the ship.

He felt a surge of anger, and he didn't know if it was at them or at himself. He finally took a deep breath and decided he was angry at fate, and that wasn't productive. These people had families and lives to go home to. Fate had never allowed him to get within a few parsecs of that kind of happiness, and he didn't want to begrudge anyone the satisfaction they could get.

Tom rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the last remnants of the sleep drugs. It was time to face the rest of his life. Tom recognized a few faces as they milled about, searching for the one he wanted to see. He stayed to the back of the group, somewhat afraid of seeing any old and mostly forgotten enemies. Everyone was strangely silent, even the delta quadrant natives near the storage shelves, no doubt wondering where they fit into the complex equation. The new Ocampans, which was what they looked like now, were assembling into a semi-circle near the bay doors, opposite where the current Voyager crew was drifting in after being awakened. They stared at each other, everyone trying to figure out what everyone else was thinking.

The tableau suddenly reminded Tom of one of those ancient vids, where the good guys wore white hats and faced down the bad guys on the main street of a tiny town in the old American west. Eyes met, then turned away, and found each other again. He could smell the tension in the air.

Finally, a tall Vulcan stepped forward and inclined his head to the captain. Tom remembered his name was Tuvok, and he was the guy they were trying to rescue on the Maquis ship. There had clearly been a breach of trust between Tuvok and the captain. When they'd first set out for home, the entire crew had learned quickly not to mention his name around Janeway. Now they exchanged a long look. Tom held his breath, wondering what the captain would do.

"Tuvok." Her voice was flat as she acknowledged him.
"Captain Janeway," he replied, and Tom wondered whether he had ever called her Kathryn. If he had, it clearly wasn't appropriate now.

They regarded each other for a few moments, and then Janeway seemed to make a decision. Tom imagined she was also trying not to begrudge others their happiness, and he knew how tough that was. "We need to talk. Let's leave the rest of the crew to get reacquainted." She turned to the tiny Ocampan woman, "Kes, would you mind staying here to answer any questions they have?" Tom knew that her presence would prevent any real hostility from breaking out, and he admired the captain's strategy. Even when she was most defeated, she never forgot the details.

"Of course, Captain." Kes's voice was clear and sure, but the look she gave Tuvok spoke of caution and concern. As the captain preceded Tuvok out the door, Tom knew many of the onlookers were hoping the long friendship between the two old friends would survive this.

Tom turned back to the room, blinked, and suddenly, there he was. Harry. Time seemed to stand still, and Tom wondered if he were dreaming. They approached each other with undue caution.

They both hesitated, but only for a moment. Then they were hugging, clamped around each other like Tyrellian watersnakes. Finally, Tom pulled back, saying, "Harry." His voice stopped, his throat closing on anything else he wanted to say, but Harry seemed to understand.

"Can we go somewhere?" Harry whispered. "I want to talk to you, see you. . . " He stopped as Tom shook his head almost imperceptibly. They didn't need to share this with the rest of either crew; it would only make the remainder of Tom's journey that much more difficult. But he did need to get Harry alone. "Want to see my quarters?"

"Sure. Are you still in the same place? I think I remember how to get there." And they shared a smile as they walked out into the corridor. Once inside, Tom stopped and looked around the tiny room. He hadn't been here much in the last year; he'd been sleeping for most of it, and that fact was reflected in the state of his quarters. Torn and dirty sheets on the bed, one thin blanket and a thinner pillow, a thick layer of dust on the stack of datacubes on the desk. Nothing in the closet. He hadn't brought anything personal on board for a two week mission, and hadn't accumulated anything while he was here. A few pairs of underwear and a set of workout clothes in the drawer. The meagerness of his existence hit him like a plasma wave.

"Well, it's not like the accommodations where we were before," he tried to joke, and turned to find Harry in his arms, Harry's face pressed to his, and Harry's voice in his ear, saying,

"We could be on a demon planet right now and I wouldn't care. I missed you, Tom." Tom had to smile at that.

"Okay, it's better than a demon planet, I'll admit."

And when they kissed, it suddenly felt as though they really were on a demon planet, fighting for oxygen, feeling the temperature soaring, watching and hearing fireworks in the sky as volcanoes erupted and the earth moved. It was massive, wonderful, so like and so different from kissing Harry in his dreams. The sensations had been there before, but it was like the difference between eating a replicated apple and a real one you've just picked off the tree. The computer could simulate the chemical composition, the color, the texture, the moisture content. But there was always something missing in replications, and Tom had finally identified that elusive element. He had found it in Harry's kiss, in his touch, in the scent of his hair.

"Oh, Harry. I've missed you, too," he murmured. "So much." Tom combed his fingers through the black silk of Harry's hair, marveling at the feel of it. He kissed those beautiful lips over and over again, like a dying man at an oasis, drinking as much as was physically possible, knowing he'd be sick later. And Tom did know. He knew this was the most wonderful thing in the world, and it was all the more wonderful because it was a fleeting pleasure. He had this tiny slice of happiness with Harry, a few hours at most. And then they would be back in the real world. Tom back to prison, Harry off to his real life.

So he had better enjoy this now, and he would, he would take as much pleasure as he could from this brief encounter, knowing it would have to last him for the rest of his life. He didn't want to rush things, but he also knew they couldn't waste time, either. He pulled away from those luscious lips and began hunting for the fastenings on Harry's robes. Harry was tugging at his uniform, and he reached to stop him. It was the only one he had, and he was very conscious of anything that would tear it. He couldn't show up for his hearing back at 'Fleet headquarters with a torn uniform, it would take away from what little dignity he might have.

"Let me," Tom said, and gently pulled apart the clasp at the neck, sliding the coverall down to his waist. Harry's hands reached for his shirt, tentative, understanding now that he had felt how thin the fabric was. Together, they carefully removed each piece. Tom found himself shaking. He hadn't actually been naked for™how long had it been? He had slept in his uniform in the sleep capsule, and hadn't taken it off for the days in between. There was usually no time to sleep over the forty or so hours he was awake. Who wanted to sleep when you didn't have to, and you couldn't dream anyway?

He was clean, at least. You didn't need to take off your clothes when there was no water for the showers, and the sonic cleaner worked just as well with or without. It seemed he was always cold on Voyager, clothed or not, but now, as Harry's robes fell away and Tom pressed his naked skin against that golden body, he was awash in heat. . . pulsing, beating, human heat.

Oh, stars, it was wonderful. Tom fell back onto the bed, pulling away the bunched bedclothes from under him before all free will seemed to leave him. Harry's hands were sweet, his mouth hot, and his body just too delicious for words. Tom moaned as Harry's soft lips found his nipple, tugging at it, pulling the pleasure out of him in glorious streams. Then Harry's head moved lower, and Tom felt that velvet tongue make its way to his cock. He groaned as Harry took him into his mouth, arching up, and stretching further when he felt fingers tenderly massaging his balls. He couldn't stop moving, up and back, though it was a hazy pleasure. He felt it sharpen then, to begin to form into something solid and strong, and he reached down to gently move Harry away from his cock. Tom needed more; he needed to feel Harry closer, much closer. He pulled Harry on top of him, demanding with his body by pulling his legs up and arching again. Harry looked down into his eyes.

"Tom, I want you so much. I thought this was great in the dreams, but now. . . this is something I've never felt before."

Tom's reply was punctuated by gasps of pleasure as he felt Harry's hard cock against him. "I know," he panted, "what you mean." Then Harry's fingers found their target, and all Tom's words went away. He felt the penetration, the stretching, and it just said more and more to him as it progressed. When Harry finally moved up against him, kissing him, rubbing himself against Tom's ass, he cried out with the sensation. He fought for oxygen as Harry began to thrust into him, and as that big, beautiful cock entered him, he thought his heart would stop.

It started beating again, finally, and the blackness that had threatened his vision cleared. He could feel his blood pounding in time with the pressure, and it increased, filling him and fulfilling him all at once. It continued to build, each press sweet, then sweeter, and when he thought it was at the peak, the absolute pinnacle of pleasure, he felt Harry's hand touching his cock, holding him, pumping him, and it became unbearably sensuous, building to the highest volcano in the middle of the hottest desert. His come blasted out of him, spraying the world with a cooling shower, and he melted in the rain as Harry pumped and pumped, then stilled, filling him with more sweet liquid and with an inner calm he had never known before.

Tom swam up toward consciousness, only now feeling every bit of grime on the sheets that hadn't been washed in far too long. He didn't want to open his eyes, but then he realized Harry was lying against him, and how could he not look at that? He turned gently, trying not to jostle his sleepy companion but wanting to be able to see him, to study him. How could one person be so perfect? he mused, running an idle hand down the soft skin of Harry's back. Tom had a brief flash of tasting that skin, of feeling. . . again and again. . . the passion they had just shared. But he shook his head, willing those thoughts away. He would take what he was able to, and he wouldn't waste his time wishing for more. He'd already had more than he had ever thought possible. He smiled to himself. Yes, he could be happy with this.

Harry seemed to sense Tom's smile, and opened his eyes to match it with one of his own. "Wow," he said, softly. "That was delicious." "Mm hmm," Tom replied, pulling Harry into a hug and burying his face in his hair. "No argument from me," he murmured. They snuggled together for a few more minutes, then Tom reluctantly pulled away, struggling to sit up.

"I suppose we need to report," Tom said, watching Harry turn over onto his back. "Probably. We'll probably have to make some sort of request to Kes and to the captain." "What?" Tom asked, wondering what they could request. Then he grinned, saying, "Do you want to move in here for the rest of the trip?"

Harry looked surprised at his comment, suddenly very awake. "No, Tom. I wasn't planning on staying aboard. I only came to see you as soon as I could." He sat up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "You didn't think I'd go back and leave you here, did you?"

Now it was Tom's turn to be puzzled. "No, I kind of thought you'd leave me behind at the spaceport." He swiftly stood up and began to gather his uniform pieces, brushing the dirt from them. "When your family comes to meet you."

"I never. . . " Harry stopped, staring at Tom. "You're planning to go back?"

"Of course I'm planning to go back." He glanced up in the direction of the bridge of the ship. "Wasn't that the point of this whole exercise?"

Harry ignored that comment. "But that would mean going back to prison, Tom, or at least having to deal with getting pardoned, and then what?" Harry demanded, "Then what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do what I have to, Harry. I'm going to prove to the captain, and to my father, and to everyone else, that I can own up to my actions." And prove it to me, he thought. To me.

That shut Harry up. "What were you thinking, Harry? That I'd stick with her through all this, and then leave her in the lurch when the Prison Board says, 'what did you do with your convict'?" Tom pulled on his uniform, thinking he would leave the scent of Harry on his body as long as he could. Maybe he would still be able to smell it during his trial for desertion back on Earth.

"You don't think that keeping this ship flying against impossible odds says that you're a responsible adult? Tom, you told me the circumstances behind all that. You know you didn't deserve the sentence you got." He stood and pulled Tom around to face him. "Do you hate yourself that much that you'd throw away a life here for a miserable existence there?"

Tom's heart melted at the earnest look on Harry's oh-so-young face. "No, Harry. Even I don't hate myself that much." He took a breath. "But I do respect Captain Janeway that much. I can't run away. She'd hate me, and I'd never respect myself."

Harry's eyes searched his and Tom knew he couldn't mask the pain he felt. Finally, Harry agreed, "No, I suppose you wouldn't."

Tom couldn't believe the pressure on his chest those defeated words caused. He could barely breathe.

Harry dispiritedly began to get dressed. After a few minutes of thought, he looked up from fastening his boots, and said, "Then I'll go back, too. I just have to tell Kes; maybe there's some way she can get my stuff on board."

"You were planning to stay here?" Tom was surprised. "But you have everything to go home to. . . your family, your fiancèe. Your career."

Harry nodded, agreeing, but then said, "Yes, I had all those things back home. But I joined Starfleet for the adventure, and what's more adventurous than living in a whole new quadrant? I've been working with the energy engineers back on Ocampa and the science is amazing, Tom, really. I have friends, and a life, and I can send messages home to my family now. It's not like they expected me to spend weekends at the house. They knew I wanted to find my own life." He stood up and pulled Tom into his arms, his eyes dark with passion. "And that fiancèe? I think I've moved past that." He kissed Tom on the cheek, a kiss full of love and promises. "Way past that."

Tom closed his eyes, and Harry continued in a soft and mesmerizing voice. "Yes, I was planning to stay here. I have a great life here. One that I was planning to share with you."

Tom flinched a little at that. He opened his eyes and looked into Harry's, really looked at the real man and not the dream lover he'd been remembering. This wasn't the green Academy graduate that Tom had known back on Deep Space Nine. This man had lived through a life-threatening disease, and then watched as his ship left him behind. He'd taken the responsibility to find them a way home and he'd succeeded, against staggering odds. On top of all that, he had found a worthwhile place for himself in the Ocampan hierarchy. He was definitely not the same boy Tom had known back then. Harry he'd grown up in his years on Ocampa.

"I go where you go," Harry added, hugging him hard, then letting him go. "I guess we really should get back."

Tom had never loved anyone as much as he loved Harry Kim right then. The emotion filled him from his toes to the top of his head, and he thought it might actually be spilling out of his ears in another moment. It did threaten to spill out of his eyes, but he blinked it back, wanting to keep it, and hold it, and feel it, forever.

"You shouldn't be pining after a convict," he said, roughly. "It's not good for your career."

"How do you know what I want to do with my career?" Harry grinned. "I might want to go into smuggling. Or join the Maquis."

Tom had to laugh at that. "I don't know you at all anymore, do I, Harry?"

"Nope. But you're going to." And they left the small cabin arm-in-arm.

The corridors around the cargo bays were abuzz with discussions of options, of timetables, and of renewed hostilities. "This, I am not going to miss," Tom muttered as they made their way to the center of the bay. Kes was perched on top of a storage drum, looking only slightly older than her four years.

"Harry!" She jumped down, grasping both of their hands in greeting. "I see you've found Tom."

Harry looked at Tom, his face shining. "Yes, and it was worth it. Thank you so much, Kes."

"Well, I didn't do it just for you, but I will say that you are very welcome." She looked very satisfied with herself. "So, are you two ready to go? I could send you back now, if you'd like."

Harry cleared his throat. "Actually, we've, or I guess, I've changed my mind," he stammered. "We're going back to the alpha quadrant."

She furrowed her brow, and asked in all seriousness, "I don't understand. I thought. . . "

"I have to go back," Tom explained, cutting her off, "And Harry won't listen to reason." His grin and the arm around Harry's shoulder belied his words. Then he continued, seriously, "See, I have an obligation to the captain. She had me released for this trip from," he paused, "from a situation that I need to go back to. . . " He shrugged. "And I can't let her down."

Kes looked thoughtful for a moment. She looked from one face to the other, considering what they both had said, then offered, "Tom, I've spent some time talking with the captain about you, and about some of the others in the crew. Why don't we go ask her what she thinks of this?"

Tom opened his mouth, but he couldn't say no to her. He just nodded and followed her out. He knew what the captain would say, and it would probably help Harry to hear her say it.

They took the turbolift to the bridge, and Tom highly suspected the only reason it was running was because Kes was on board. She would have to be careful about subjecting the ship to any stress during the shift to the alpha quadrant. Tom remembered with some clarity the violent nature of the jumps she'd subjected them to before. But she was now a whole year older, and ostensibly wouldn't be making promises that she couldn't keep. The door to the ready room was open and Tom wasn't surprised to see Janeway and Tuvok seated close together and deep in conversation. He was glad some things worked out, for someone, at least. They both looked up as Kes entered, trailed by Tom and Harry.

"Captain, Tuvok," she greeted them.

"Yes, Kes, how can we help you?" Tom was pleased to see some of her former self in the captain. She was holding a metallic mug, and Tom wondered if the Ocampans had brought coffee. . . that would definitely brighten her spirits.

"Very easily, I think, Captain." She gestured to Tom and Harry to come forward.

"Hello, Tom," Janeway greeted him with a familiar nod. "And Ensign Kim. It's good to see you looking well."

"Thank you, Captain," Harry stammered, and it was blazingly obvious to Tom that Harry felt guilty for looking well, when those who had stayed on Voyager were all so pale and gaunt. Tom knew Harry would always feel as though the world's troubles were his own. His heart warmed as he realized that was another thing he loved about Harry.

He tuned back into the conversation to hear Kes say, "Tom was just telling me that he plans to return to the alpha quadrant with you."

Janeway looked startled. "Tom, is this true?"

"Yes, Captain," he began. "I'll be expected in Auckland; a little late, but reporting back as required."

Janeway considered this for a moment, then asked, "Tom, can you tell me how many of our original crew survived until now?" She tilted her head and shrugged. "Just a rough guess."

"About half, maybe," he answered, thinking about the size of the crowd in the cargo bay. "Maybe two thirds." Wait, she couldn't lie about him surviving. The captain he knew would never consider it, but she wasn't always the captain he knew, especially lately. He would set this straight right now. "That doesn't take away from the fact that I did make it, and that I have responsibilities back home, Captain. If you're implying that you could lie, and say I was one of the ones that. . . "

"No, Tom, that's not what I meant." She stood up and began to pace. "What I'm saying is that you were a vital member of Voyager's crew, and that far less than half of us. . . most likely none of us. . . would have survived without your help." She paused, searching his face to see if he understood. "And you think I should ignore your bravery and courage, and reward you by relinquishing you to the Federation prison system?"

Tom flushed at her words. "No, Captain. But I can't walk away from my responsibility to you. You took charge of me, and you'll be expected to bring me back. You know that."

Janeway stopped her pacing and faced Tom squarely. "Look, I'll be frank. There is no way I can idly sit by and let my most talented crew member go back to serve an unjust sentence." At Tom's protest, she held up her hand. "Tom, we all know the charges were trumped up to make an example of your involvement with the Maquis."

Harry gave him a speaking look, and Tom didn't bother to deny it. Janeway continued, "And because I could not let you return to that cell, I would have to deal with keeping you out of prison the minute we get back. I would have to rush my debriefings, probably defend you in a new trial, and get embroiled in Maquis politics immediately." She put her hands on her hips. "Doesn't sound to me as though those are responsibilities I want right now."

Tom could hear the sarcasm in her voice, and could almost feel the joy radiating from Harry at his side. "No, ma'am," he said, hanging his head, trying desperately not to smile. "So, would you just save me the trouble and go where Harry clearly wants you to?" She was smiling at both of them now, as was Kes. Even the Vulcan still sitting on the sofa looked slightly less acerbic.

Tom just stared, unable to believe what was happening. A new life, a new quadrant, no history of anything to follow him out here. And Harry on top of all that. He could barely take it all in.

Harry grinned broadly. "C'mon, Tom. Let's go home."

Home. Well. Ocampa? He'd never lived there, though he knew a lot about the place from all of Harry's stories. But it was a zillion light years better than where he'd been living lately, it wasn't prison, and it was where Harry was. Home sounded pretty good.

He tore his eyes away from Harry's and looked back across the room at Captain Janeway. "Well," he said, shrugging, "It won't take me long to pack." It was an attempt at lightness, but it fell flat, bringing all his thoughts back to the spartan existence on board the ship.

But the captain seemed to understand. She crossed the room and reached up to put her hand on Tom's shoulder. He had forgotten again how tiny she was. She always seemed so much larger than life in his thoughts. "Yes, Tom, we've always relied on you to see the silver lining." She smiled up at him, the smile that made him wish he could bring it to her face all the time. She finally seemed to realize she didn't deserve the dressing down she had been expecting from Starfleet. He only hoped the reception that greeted her didn't let them both down. It was probably a very good thing that Tom wouldn't be on board, because Admiral Paris would probably be the first one to pass judgement. Just once, he aimed across the light years at his father, be a decent guy and let her off the hook. Just once. "I wish you all the best, Captain," he finally managed. "Thank you."

She blinked and, still looking at Tom, said, "Harry, I want you to know what a great friend you have. Tom has been the rock that has kept me going these past couple of years. The best pilot and hardest working crewman I've ever had the pleasure of working with. I don't think he ever gave up hope, even when there wasn't much of it to be found."

He met her eyes, feeling his face grow hot, and replied, "I just did what I could. Anyone else could have done the same."

"No, Tom. No one did because no one could." Her face hardened briefly, and Tom had no envy for the rest of the crew when she gave her report back to Starfleet.

"Now, go. Have a good life." She pushed him gently toward Kes, as if physical proximity mattered to her abilities. "If Kes can really create a wormhole between our two sectors, we may get a chance to share a cup of coffee sometime."

He grinned at that. Their mutual desire for a decent cup of coffee had been a running joke during the good times on Voyager. "Yes, Captain. I'd like that." Tom pursed his lips against the emotion of the moment. "Until then," he said, finally, unable to say goodbye even as they parted.

"Until then," she replied.

"Are you ready?" Kes asked, and Tom looked at Harry, seeing his eyes shining with emotion. They both nodded.

"I'll see you in a few days, Harry," she said, and blinked. Harry disappeared in a flash of white light.

Tom looked over at her in surprise. "I'm sorry, Tom," she apologized. "I sent Harry back to his laboratory, where he's working now. I need to send you to the main administration building for registration and processing to become a citizen of Ocampa. Harry will meet you soon, don't worry."

Tom nodded, feeling silly for feeling dependent on Harry. But Kes's smile helped a lot. He turned back to Captain Janeway, wondering if he'd ever see her again, and then the room disappeared for an instant and he was standing inside a huge building. He looked up. They were underground, if he remembered correctly. It would be good to see the sun again, he thought, but this, this space, this was different enough from a starship for now. He walked over to what looked like an information kiosk to start his new life.

---

Tom leaned over the railing, watching the busy concourse below him. Harry's note had said he would be here any minute, and life just couldn't get any better. He fingered his tattered uniform, the one he'd worn daily for the last two and a half years. He was looking forward to trading it in for some new clothes. Something in blue, he thought.

"Hey." Tom turned, and there he was. In the flesh. Harry. Definitely not a dream, and Tom was still choked up by the fact that they were here, together. Free.

Harry read his mind. "It's okay, Tom." Yeah, it was. "Let's go get something to eat." Even better.

He let Harry lead the way, their arms intertwined. Tom didn't think he would ever let go.

Tom finally tore his eyes away from Harry and noticed there was another person walking alongside them. At Tom's startled glance, Harry stopped and opened up some space for Tom to see her fully. "This is B'Elanna Torres. She decided to stay, too." Tom knew there were a few more of the transplants who stayed on Ocampa, and he had thought he wouldn't recognize them. But this woman looked vaguely familiar. "She's my best friend here," Harry said. Tom must have looked puzzled, because he hurriedly amended his statement. "Until now, of course," he said, beaming at Tom. The woman with the ridged forehead smiled, too.

"Hi."

Tom could only nod. She studied him, probably thinking about what a terrible influence he was going to be on Harry. Hell, join the club. He was wondering what a terrible influence he was going to be on Harry.

Harry continued, "I know you probably don't remember her, but she was on the Maquis ship."

"Right. B'Elanna, is it? I think I do remember you," he replied cautiously.

She grinned at that. "I don't want to know what you remember. All I remember is being royally annoyed by just about everybody back then."

Right. He definitely remembered her now. She seemed a lot more relaxed than she had back then. As they walked along, he ventured a question, "Is that why you stayed out here?"

She nodded, answering easily, "Part of it. I never fit in back in the alpha quadrant, but people accept me here," she explained, then added, "You'll be happy here, Tom. I really think so." She said it so confidently that he began to believe it, too.

With all the bustle of people around them, people with a life and a purpose and hope, and friends like this, well. . . how could he not be happy? Tom felt Harry's arm, strong and warm behind him, and told her, "I know so."

---

Tom sometimes woke in the night from a deep sleep, feeling something missing and realizing it was the weight of worry. He didn't have to wonder now. . . if Voyager was all right, if the systems would keep the crew safe while they waited for Kes. They had. The ship was right where they said it would be when Kes was ready to send it home.

Nor did he have to worry about what Harry would want to do, what he would choose. Harry had so much to go home to. . . a career, a family, a fiancèe. A life. But Harry had chosen a life here, with Tom.

Harry had asked Tom, during one of these sleepless nights, "Do you miss Voyager?"

"No," he'd replied, with a shiver. Then Harry had continued, apparently concerned,

"What is it, then? Are you still worrying about the captain, and how she'll do when she gets back?"

He had to own up to that. "Sometimes. But she made the only choices she could." She made her decision based on the facts. Tom had paid his debt to her, to Starfleet, to the Federation. There was nothing there now to make him want to go back. Everything he wanted was here.

Tom decided to ask a question or two of his own, given the spirit of honesty between them. "Do you miss your family?"

"A little," came the grudging answer. "But," Harry maintained, "I have a new family now, in the delta quadrant." He hugged Tom tighter to him. "Someday, we might decide to go back for a visit when Kes can send us easily, but our real home is here, on Ocampa."

Tom nodded his agreement, saying, "You're right. This does feel like home. I wonder when that happened?"

"The universe is a big place," Harry said, solemnly, "and we're lucky to be able to call both places 'home.'"

Tom didn't tell Harry that Earth wasn't home to him anymore, that it had never really been home. After all his trials and travels, searching for something he couldn't define, he had finally found it. Wherever Harry was, that was home for Tom.

He knew Harry would say that such happiness was compensation for all the hardship he'd been though. But Tom knew he'd never be able to do enough to pay back the profound debt he owed the universe for allowing him this life.

Though he would never stop trying.

---

End