Snapshot
by Shayney

Spoilers: Up to and including "Spirit Folk."

Characters and situations owned by Paramount/Viacom. Used without permission. No copyright infringIent intended.

"Now, these are Bolian epidermal cells. Note the pigment. . ."

It had been an hour already, and Harry felt his eyes starting to glaze over. He'd had some boring lecturers at the Academy, but the Doctor topped them all. They could market him as a cure for insomnia.

He'd drifted off into an idle daydream, when shouts of laughter jerked his attention back to the present. Startled, Harry looked around. . . and caught sight of the image on big viewscreen at the front of the room.

It was himself. And Tom. Stripped to their underwear, asleep. Harry was lying on his back, while Tom was cuddled around him, head resting against Harry's shoulder, arm thrown across Harry's chest, legs entwined with Harry's.

Harry's ears burned. He knew when it had to have been taken: on that two-week away mission on the Delta Flyer. He and Tom had shared a bunk. The bunks were designed to accommodate humanoids of all sizes, and easily slept two humans. And they usually weren't sleeping at the same time anyway. Usually.

He couldn't remember Tom ever snuggling up to him like that, but it had been a busy mission. Harry had gotten barely five hours of sleep a night, and had been so tired he probably wouldn't have noticed if Tom had picked him up and chucked him off the bed.

"This charming image of Ensigns Kim and Paris was taken on their last shuttle mission," the Doctor was saying. "Aren't they cute? I wasn't permitted to join the away team, but I gave them my holo-imager and told them to take pictures for me. This was one of them." The Doctor looked directly at Tom, who was sitting next to Harry. "Missing Lt. Torres, were you, Mr. Paris?"

Tom, flushed a bright red, glowered at the Doc. B'Elanna, on the other side of Tom, looked less than pleased.

Harry put his head in his hands as the laughter of his crewmates filled the room.

"So, whom do we kill, Neelix or Commander Chakotay?" Harry asked Tom after the lecture. He didn't know which had taken the picture, but it had to be one of them.

"Sorry, Harry," Tom said, sounding genuinely distressed.

"Hey, it's okay," Harry replied. "You're used to sleeping with someone. I understand." He grinned wryly. "Heck, it is kind of funny."

Tom didn't seem amused.

Three days later, Harry was at his wit's end.

He'd gotten a lot of ribbing the first day. People called him "B'Elanna," and felt his forehead for ridges, and asked when he and Tom were getting married. He'd taken it good-naturedly; starships stranded in the middle of the Delta Quadrant had to grab their entertainment where they could find it, after all. And sure enough, by the next day, most people had turned their attention to hapless Ensign Reyes, who'd accidentally flooded Jeffries Tube 26 with fire extinguishing foam.

No, Harry didn't mind taking his turn as the butt of the ship's jokes. Everyone did that, eventually. What bothered him was that Tom seemed really upset. Oh, he insisted nothing was wrong. But he was strangely quiet, and appeared uncomfortable with Harry. There was a definite chill in their friendship.

Maybe the probem was B'Elanna. Usually she was the first to laugh at the Doc's collection of embarrassing pictures of Tom. Not this time. In fact, since the Doc's lecture, she'd barely spoken to either of them. She couldn't think that he and Tom actually. . .?

But after three days of the cold shoulder, Harry couldn't think of anything else it could be. So he tracked B'Elanna down in Engineering. She ignored him at first, but finally, when he kept following her around, turned to face him.

"What do you want, Harry?" she asked.

"Just to talk, B'Elanna."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Please, B'Elanna. What's wrong? Why aren't you speaking to Tom?"

She seemed about to turn away, then changed her mind. Grabbing his arm with bruising force, she dragged him into her office.

"I'm not speaking to Tom because he's a pig," she announced.

"No, he's not," Harry protested. "B'Elanna, you're not mad about that picture, are you? You can't think we. . . I mean, Chakotay and Neelix were in the same room! And we'd never. . . Look, obviously, in his sleep, Tom just thought I was you."

"No, he didn't."

"Of course he did!"

B'Elanna shook her head. "No."

"How can you say that?"

"Because Tom never cuddles with me when he sleeps. Never."

Scowling, she stormed from the room, leaving Harry stunned and speechless in her wake.

Harry stood outside Tom's door. There was no answer to his signal. "Tom?" he called. "It's me. Open up, or I'm breaking in."

The door opened. "All right, all right," Tom said. "Can't have you getting arrested by Tuvok for breaking and entering."

Harry shoved past Tom into the room, then turned to confront him. "Tom. . . how could you?"

"How could I what?" Tom asked.

"You know what!"

Tom looked utterly baffled.

"I spoke to B'Elanna," Harry said meaningfully.

"And?" Tom asked quizzically.

"She told me you never cuddle with her."

Tom went very still. "Oh."

"So who is it, Tom?"

"What?"

Harry glared. "Who are you having an affair with?"

Tom's mouth dropped open. He seemed about to speak, but no words came.

"Tom, I can't believe you'd do this to her. I thought you loved her!"

Tom found his voice at last. "Wait a minute! Harry, I am not cheating on B'Elanna!"

Harry put his hands on his hips and pushed forward, into Tom's space. "Then how do you explain that picture? Who'd you mistake me for, if not B'Elanna?"

"No one! It was a fluke. Harry, you're making too much of this."

Perfectly plausible - if it weren't for the furtive look on Tom's face. He wasn't as good a liar as he thought he was.

Tom tried again. "You reminded me of my childhood teddy bear?"

Harry threw up his hands. "Fine, Tom. Keep up the jokes. One day there'll be no one left to listen to them." He turned to go.

"Wait, Harry."

He paused and looked back at Tom.

"I'm not cheating on B'Elanna."

Harry hesitated. He wanted to believe Tom, so much. But Tom was his best friend, and he could tell when the man was hiding something.

Without another word, Harry turned and left.

Harry drifted slowly, reluctantly towards consciousness. There was something there that he didn't want to face. He couldn't remember what, but he knew he didn't want to deal with now. He was too comfortable, floating in warm darkness. . .

Then memory flooded back. The Borg! Harry sprang up in a panic. Or tried. Something tangled around his feet, sending him crashing to the floor. Dazed, he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around at. . . Sickbay?

"Harry!" It was a familiar voice. A pair of long, long legs came skidding around the bed Harry was leaning against, then their owner was crouching beside him. "Maybe you're the one we should have put in the crib," Tom said.

"Tom!" Harry cried. Before he realized it, he had thrown his arms around his friend. He'd feared Tom and the others were dead, or worse. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Tom replied.

"The others?"

"Everyone's fine. Except you - of course. You just had to get in the way of an exploding plasma conduit. Then get yourself injected with Borg nanoprobes for good measure."

Tom was all right. Everyone was all right. Filled with relief, Harry released Tom and let himself sag back down to the floor. Dimly, he was aware of gentle hands untangling the blanket that was wound around his legs. Then strong arms lifted him back onto the bed. Oh, no. He was too heavy for Tom to carry. But he was so tired he couldn't bring himself to protest.

When Harry awoke again, he was still in Sickbay. Lying in a bed with the rails up, he noticed with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes."

Startled, he looked around to find B'Elanna standing at his bedside.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she said. "I'm not going to kill you. The Borg almost took care of that."

She wasn't mad any more. Tentatively, Harry smiled, and she smiled back. It warmed his soul. It had been so long since he'd seen her smile.

"Honestly, Harry," she said. "Just once, could you return from an away mission in one piece?"

"I'll try," Harry said. "Did we get the Delta Flyer back?"

"Yes, and a couple of alien ships as well." She began chattering animatedly about the alien technology. Harry sighed. He'd missed these conversations with B'Elanna. It was so nice to have her speaking to him again.

Suddenly, she looked up and past him, and her expression hardened. Harry followed her gaze, to find Tom sticking his head out of the office.

"I have to go," she said to Harry. "Get well soon, Starfleet. I don't want to have to repair all the damage you did to the Delta Flyer by myself."

Without a word or glance at Tom, she left Sickbay.

Well. Correction. She wasn't mad at Harry any more. Apparently, she was still mad at Tom.

Tom looked after her, then emerged fully from the office. He was carrying something in his arms, Harry realized. A bundle of blankets, cradled almost as if. . .

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"Haven't you ever seen a baby before?" Tom asked.

"I didn't even know you were pregnant."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'd worry you suffered some brain damage, except I know your jokes are always that lame. We've got some new passengers on board. Children from that Borg cube." He settled on the next bed and began feeding the baby from a small bottle. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he answered automatically, bemused and charmed at the sight of Tom Paris, nursemaid.

"Harry. I'm not making idle conversation. How are you feeling?"

Harry considered. "Okay," he said. "Just a little tired." He frowned. "And I seem to be missing some memories."

"What do you remember?"

"We were attacked by the Borg. The next thing I remember is waking up in a Jeffries tube. I don't even know how I got there."

"That's to be expected, according to the Doc. You'll probably never remember. You were trying to get our warp drive back online. A conduit exploded, and knocked you unconscious."

"Oh." Harry thought some more. "I remember the nanoprobes." He shuddered. It was a painful and thoroughly unpleasant memory. "The next thing I remember is waking up here and falling out of bed." Something occurred to him, and he groaned. "Please tell me the Doc didn't capture that moment with his holo-imager."

Tom chuckled. "Don't worry. He was busy with surgery right then."

"Surgery? I thought you said no one was hurt."

"He was removing implants from the Borglets." Tom went on to tell Harry everything he had missed. Harry listened with half an ear, comforted by the sound of Tom's voice, but too weary to concentrate on what he was saying.

There was one good thing about being injected with Borg nanoprobes and nearly dying, Harry thought ruefully. His friendships with both Tom and B'Elanna were almost back to normal.

Tom and B'Elanna still weren't on great terms with each other, but that, Harry decided, was none of his business. He still couldn't figure out what Tom was thinking, stepping out on a woman like B'Elanna, but restrained his outrage. Almost dying had reminded him of the important things. Tom had always been a good friend to him, and that was what mattered.

"You're making a mistake, Seamus!" Tom yelled. Almost right in Harry's ear, of course. He winced.

It had all happened so fast. Harry still wasn't sure what had gone wrong. He and Tom entered the holodeck to repair the program, and next thing he knew, they were surrounded by an angry holographic mob. A fishing net had been thrown over them. Then they'd been dragged out to the crossroads, where they'd been tied together, face-to-face, net and all, dropped on the ground, and pelted with leaves and berries.

Harry yelped as something cold and wet splashed on his back. Holy water, no doubt.

"There," Seamus said. "They can't escape. When the church bells ring tomorrow morn, they'll vanish like dew with the dawn."

"Are you sure?" someone asked. It sounded like Maggie.

"Positive. I said the spell twice, just for good measure."

Apparently satisfied, the crowd slowly dispersed, going back to their homes. Harry and Tom tried to get to their feet, but bound as they were it was just impossible. They tried various commands to the holodeck controls, to no avail.

"Someone's going to have to rescue us," Tom said glumly.

"They'll have noticed the damage to the holodeck controls." Harry was sure of that. It would be Mondello at Ops now, and she was good. All his people were. "It won't be long. But we'll never hear the end of it."

"Yeah."

There was a long silence. Why did he and Tom always end up in situations like this, anyway? This one was even more boring and uncomfortable than usual. The circulation to his left arm was being cut off. Harry jerked at their bonds futilely, trying to loosen them.

"Harry, stop struggling." Tom's voice sounded strained.

"What's wrong, Tom?"

"Nothing."

Harry pulled back - as much as his bonds allowed - and tried to see what the matter was.

"Harry, please, stop squirming around," Tom pleaded.

"Tom, are you injured?" Harry asked, getting more and more worried.

"No!"

He tried to ease his weight off Tom. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," Tom insisted.

Harry wasn't convinced. "Tom, tell me what's wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong," Tom said. "It's just that. . . damn it, Harry, if you keep moving against me like that, I'm going to be in a very embarrassing state when the rescue party arrives."

Harry realized what he meant, and froze. "Tom, I can't believe you. Is that all you ever think about?"

"Nothing wrong with a healthy libido, is there?" Tom said defensively.

"Except when it leads you to cheat on the woman who loves you," Harry retorted. He regretted it the moment he said it, but he couldn't help it. He still didn't understand how Tom could do that to B'Elanna.

An odd expression shadowed Tom's face. "Harry, I told you. I never cheated on B'Elanna."

"Yeah. I know, Tom." But Harry didn't believe it, and he knew it showed. He'd never been a good liar.

Tom twisted suddenly, rolling them over so he was on top of Harry. "All right. I've had it. Do you want to know the truth, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said defiantly. "Yes, I do!"

"Then listen up." Tom's face was mere inches above his. His eyes, violet in the dim light, bored into Harry's. "I don't love B'Elanna. But I have never cheated on her."

Harry gaped. "You don't. . ." He trailed off, unable to finish.

"I love her as a friend, but I'm not in love with her. I never was."

"Then why did you get involved with her?" Harry demanded. Surely Tom knew that B'Elanna wasn't Jenny Delaney. She wasn't the kind who indulged in sex without love.

"She. . . she loved me. No one else did."

Harry blinked, taken aback. He was astonished that Tom would think that. . . but also not surprised at all. There was a part of Tom that couldn't believe anyone could really like him. Otherwise, they probably wouldn't be such close friends. Tom had latched onto thefirst person on Voyager who was reasonably polite to him - a green young ensign on his first mission - when he could've have had his pick of far more useful and interesting companions.

"It's not like there are a lot of prospects out here in the Delta Quadrant," Tom said. "Harry, I was afraid I would be alone for the next 70 years. I thought that someone would be better than no one. But it was a mistake."

"What??" Harry protested.

"It's not fair to her, Harry. B'Elanna deserves someone who loves her back." Tom swallowed. "And I. . . I'm in love with someone else."

"Who?" Harry asked, shocked and saddened.

Tom hesitated, then whispered, "You."

Harry stared blankly at Tom. Surely he had misheard.

"Harry. . ." Tom said softly. "It's always been you. Ever since you told me you choose your own friends. . . and chose me."

Harry was speechless. Tom couldn't possibly be in love with him. . . could he? For one crazy moment, he thought about what it might be like to love Tom Paris. Handsome, witty, charming Tom, the best friend anyone could ask for. The most eligible bachelor on Voyager, until B'Elanna snapped him up.

Tom gazed deep into Harry's eyes, and apparently saw something he liked. Smiling a little, he leaned closer. He's going to kiss me, Harry thought in amazement. Then he remembered. . . B'Elanna! He turned his face away, trying to avoid the impending kiss as best he could.

Tom was not dissuaded. Deprived of his primary target, he kissed the side of Harry's neck instead, nibbling and gently sucking. A wave of sheer lust surged through him, and Harry gasped. He tried to tell Tom to stop, but could only moan helplessly. Oh, man. It had been way too long.

Tom's attentions moved slowly up Harry's neck. Soft lips traced the line of his jaw, brushed over his cheek, teased the corner of his mouth. Harry resisted as long as he could, trIbling with the effort, but finally gave in, turning to meet Tom's eager lips.

It tasted like heaven. Harry couldn't get enough. Ignoring the little voice inside telling him it was wrong, wrong, wrong, he pressed his mouth to Tom's, kissing him deeply.

Then Tom pulled away suddenly, staring up with a shocked expression on his face. Twisting around, Harry looked up - to find B'Elanna Torres standing over them, thunder on her face.

"Well," she said. "I thought you might need rescuing, but I can see you're busy. I'll come back another time." She turned and stormed away.

"Wait! B'Elanna!" Tom called, panic in his voice.

Harry shut his eyes, horrified. Oh, god. What had he been thinking? How could he?

There was the sound of the holodeck doors sliding shut, then Tom sank against him with a groan of dismay. His breath was hot against Harry's neck, and Harry was annoyed to find his body responding.

"Tom!"

"Don't worry, Harry. Someone else will be down to rescue us soon."

"I know! Quit breathing on me, would you, or. . ." He borrowed Tom's phrase. "I'm going to be in embarrassing state when they get here."

Tom gave a slightly hysterical laugh. Harry could have cheerfully killed him. "Damn you," he muttered.

Tom shifted, turning so he wasn't breathing against Harry's neck any more. "Sorry, Harry," he said.

"It's as much my fault as yours," Harry admitted. "B'Elanna's going to kill us both, and we deserve it."

"Harry. . . maybe this is a good thing," Tom offered. "I was wrong to get involved with B'Elanna when I didn't love her. . ."

"How can it be a good thing to hurt someone like that?" Harry said, remembering the look on her face.

Tom had no answer.

Eventually, Carey and Nicoletti came down and rescued them. They were highly amused at Tom and Harry's predicament. For two days, Harry put up with nicknames like "Bondage Boy" - until Ensign Bronowski took the spotlight, when he broke out in purple spots after an encounter with the Delta Quadrant version of poison ivy.

Harry found himself with a lot of spare time on his hands these days. He was doing his best to avoid Tom, and B'Elanna was doing her best to avoid him.

He knew he had to talk to her, to apologize. But she wasn't making it easy. She wouldn't let him in when he signalled at her door. She claimed to be too busy when he tried to see her in Engineering. She wouldn't talk to him when he commed her.

When he finally got his opportunity, it was pure chance. Unable to sleep, he was working in the half-darkened Mess Hall, when B'Elanna came in for a midnight snack.

She froze when she saw him, then turned away, heading across the room.

"B'Elanna!"

She ignored him. He jumped up, rushing over to put himself between her and the replicator.

Her glare was frightening. "Get out of my way, Harry. Or I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with the wet end."

"Go ahead. I deserve it. Just let me talk to you first."

She hesitated. "All right. You have three minutes."

Harry had planned everything he wanted to say to her, countless times over the past few days. Only to have it all fly out of his mind now that she was giving him the chance.

"Well?" she prompted.

He forced himself to start talking. "I. . . I just want to say I'm sorry, B'Elanna." It sounded hopelessly pathetic even to his own ears, but he went on. "I don't know what came over me. You're my friend, as much as Tom is. I'd never do anything to hurt you, I swear."

"Oh? And what do you call stealing my lover?"

"I didn't! I wouldn't!" He looked at her pleadingly. "I know you'll find it hard to believe, but there's never been anything between Tom and me. Except for what you saw. I. . . we never meant for it to happen. I think Tom was just bored. You know how he gets when there's nothing to do. And I. . . I'm an idiot who has more hormones than brains. I got carried away. It won't happen again. I promise."

"Tom and I aren't together any more," B'Elanna said. "I have no claim on him. You have every right to screw him senseless if you want."

"No, I don't," Harry said. "It would be a rotten thing to do to you."

She just looked at him silently. Was the brittle expression on her face softening, just a little? It was hard to tell, in the dim light. "B'Elanna. . . if it weren't for you, I'd be dead. I'd never have made it out of those tunnels." He smiled a little at the memory. "We'd barely met. I was your enemy, sent to capture you. A stupid kid just out of the Academy. Too sick and weak to climb out on my own. You should have saved yourself - left me behind and never looked back. But you didn't."

"Tom would have found you."

"It might not have been in time. Besides, that doesn't change what you did. For me."

"I was sick, too. Must have been out of my head," she said gruffly. But she didn't look angry any more.

"B'Elanna, we've been through so much together. I'm not going to let anything get between us. Least of all Tom Paris."

There was a heavy pause. "All right, Starfleet," she said at last. She was actually smiling, just a little. "You're right. That p'taq isn't worth losing a friend over."

Impulsively, Harry reached out to take her in his arms. Then he hesitated. The easy physical affection they'd once shared had faded when B'Elanna and Tom got together. Harry had sensed that it bothered Tom, though he'd never said anything. Oh, what the heck. Harry put his arms around B'Elanna, very gently, ready to back off if she showed any sign of reluctance.

But she didn't. Instead, she leaned her full weight against him. She was such a bundle of contradictions. Tiny, but so strong. Tough, yet vulnerable. He hugged her fiercely, filled with an intense tenderness and protectiveness. They stood like that for a long moment.

"Lights."

Harry and B'Elanna pulled apart, startled, as the lights brightened. They looked around to find Tom standing in the doorway. He was staring at them open- mouthed .

Harry stared back, flustered and dismayed.

"Well," Tom said. "Didn't take you long to move in, did it?"

B'Elanna only smirked, clearly not anxious to disabuse Tom of his suspicions.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Harry protested.

Tom's eyes were full of hurt for an instant, then his usual selfsure expression returned. "Oh, don't worry, Harry. You don't have to explain your love life to me."

"I don't have a love life," Harry shot back, exasperated. "And you know what? I don't want one. It's way too much trouble. I 'm swearing off sex for the rest of my life." He pushed past Tom and stalked out of the Mess Hall.

"Harry?" The voice echoed down the Jefferies tube.

Harry knew who it was without looking up. He continued working.

"You're up awfully early," Tom said, crawling closer. "I went to your quarters hoping to talk to you before our shift starts, but you weren't there."

Actually, Harry was up awfully late. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep after the incident in the mess hall last night, and decided to make himself useful by recalibrating the plasma arrays. He was startled to realize it was 0600 already. He was due on the bridge in an hour. Good thing he was almost finished here.

"Harry, I'm sorry."

He looked up at that. Tom was gazing at him with those patented Paris puppy- dog eyes. It was enough to melt tritanium.

"I was way out of line last night," Tom said. "I'm a pig."

"Did B'Elanna tell you that?"

"No," Tom said, shifting awkwardly. In the confined space of the Jeffries tube, his usual courtly grace vanished, replaced by an almost adolescent gawkiness. "Once I thought about it for more than two seconds, I knew you'd never do that. But as usual, my mouth was several light-years ahead of my brain."

Harry smiled reluctantly. He never could stay mad at Tom Paris for long.

"Friends?" Tom wheedled.

"Always," Harry said.

The grin that spread across Tom's face was like a sunrise. Leaning forward, he gave Harry an enthusiastic kiss. Startled, Harry permitted it for a moment, then pushed him away. "Tom!

"What?" Tom said. "Don't tell me you were serious about that swearing off sex thing."

Harry sighed. "I'd never get involved with B'Elanna because you're my friend. Well, B'Elanna's my friend, too."

Tom thought about that. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We'll wait awhile."

"Sure, Tom," Harry said, certain Tom would forget all about it soon.

For some reason, he found the thought ineffably depressing.

"Wow, Tom. This is beautiful." It was a truly stunning holoprogram. After a couple of hours' hiking, they stood on a high, sheer rock cliff, looking out over a mirror-smooth lake and lush pine forest. The darkening sky was a clear, pale violet, the air crisp and sweet.

"It's Banff, Canada, before the Third World War," Tom offered. Flushed with exercise, eyes an even deeper blue than the lake, gold hair windblown, he was as beautiful as the scenery.

They ate dinner as they watched the sunset - bowls of rich stew Tom cooked over an open fire in something he called a Dutch oven. Then they roasted marshmallows, and ate them with crackers and chocolate - a strange, messy, but delicious confection that Tom insisted was traditional camping food.

Harry helped Tom set up the tent. It was, he noticed, very small. Barely big enough for two sleeping bags. But there were large mesh windows in the roof and on all sides, which gave them a spectacular view.

Lying snug in his sleeping bag, Tom beside him, watching the familiar stars of North America appear overhead - Harry had never been so content.

A meteor zipped across the sky. "Hey!" Harry said. Then there was another, and another. A whole shower of them. He sat up, amazed.

"The Perseids," Tom explained.

Harry watched the streaking meteors in delight. "Tom, this is great!"

"It gets even better towards dawn," Tom said. "The Perseids always do." He squeezed Harry's hand.

Wait a minute. Until then, Harry hadn't noticed that Tom was holding his hand. He looked at Tom suspiciously. "Is this one of your dating holoprograms?"

"Well. . . yeah," Tom admitted, grinning.

Harry jerked his hand out of Tom's grip. "I've told you, Tom. It would be a rotten thing to do to B'Elanna."

"B'Elanna and I broke up six months ago. Isn't there some kind of statute of limitations or something?"

"No," Harry said. "You never go out with a good friend's ex. It's trespassing."

Tom sighed, exasperated. "Harry, that's the flimsiest excuse I've ever heard. And I've heard a lot. Especially from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you just weren't interested, I could understand it. Amazing as it might seem, I'm not everyone's type. But. . . I think you are interested."

Harry's eyes dropped. He couldn't deny that. Even now, the attraction between them in the cramped tent was almost palpable.

"Maybe you just think I'm a bad risk in the romance department. Again, understandable. But that's never stopped you before. In fact, you're famous for going after the most unlikely prospects."

"That's not true!"

"You always have some excuse. You have a girlfriend back home. It's unprofessional to date someone else on the ship. She's just not your type. But it doesn't stop you from throwing yourself at holograms, people who wouldn't give you the time of day, or passing aliens who'll never be more than a holiday romance."

Harry scowled. That's not how it was. Tom just didn't understand.

"You know, Harry, I used to think you didn't want to get involved with me because you were afraid I wouldn't be around for long. But that's not it, is it? You're actually afraid I will stick around."

"Computer, arch!" Harry called. He kicked his way out of the sleeping bag, crawled out of the tent, and left the holodeck without looking back.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry peered over the railing of the upper level of Engineering. B'Elanna was looking up at him, hands on her hips.

"Deionizing the propulsion matrices," he answered.

"They're well within tolerances," B'Elanna said. "And you were supposed to go off-duty three hours ago."

"Since when do you tell people not to work?" Harry teased.

B'Elanna wasn't amused. She hopped on the lift and joined Harry on the upper level. "All right. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing." Harry squirmed under her penetrating gaze.

"Harry. I know you. You're the opposite of me. When I'm upset, I break things. Dishes, furniture, people's faces. I like to make my external environment match the turmoil of my inner one. But you. . . you try to fix your inner hurts by fixing the world. As if you can impose order on your feelings by imposing order on your environment."

"Thanks for the insight, Dr. Freud."

She shrugged. "It doesn't take a degree in psychology to realize that whenever you turn into 'Ensign Eager,' something's bugging you."

Harry glared. He hated that nickname.

"Now Tom. . . he's a brooder. He doesn't break things, he doesn't fix things. When he's upset, he just sits in his quarters like a lump. He seems to be doing that tonight, judging from the way he growled at me when I tried to get him to come out. What do you suppose the problem is?"

"Don't have any idea," Harry said, keeping his eyes firmly on his tricorder readouts, though he wasn't seeing them.

"You're a poor liar, Harry," B'Elanna said. "What did you two fight about?"

"Please, don't ask," Harry begged.

"Didn't your date last night go well?"

"You knew about that?!?" Harry said, before he could stop himself.

"I lent Tom some of my holodeck time, and helped him a little with the program."

"B'Elanna, I promised you I'd keep my hands off him, and I've kept my promise."

"That was ages ago! I'm over him now." She came closer, caressing his shoulder. "Harry, I really, really appreciate how honorable you've been in all this. It helped me through a rough time. But that's ancient history. Now, I just want Tom to be happy. He loves you so much."

Harry knew she was just saying that, but he was touched that she made the effort. He put an arm around her shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, B'Elanna," he said. "I made you a promise, and I'm keeping it."

Harry was re-folding all the clothes on his shelves for the second time when the call came.

"Torres to Kim."

"Kim here."

"Can you give me a hand? The replicator in Tom's quarters is malfunctioning."

"Sure, B'Elanna." It would be good to have some real work to do. "Let me get some tools."

"No, don't bother. I have everything we need."

"Okay," Harry said, then signed off. He was surprised that B'Elanna needed help for something as trivial as a malfunctioning replicator. Perhaps she still didn't feel comfortable being alone with Tom, though they seemed to be getting along fine these days.

B'Elanna was leaning against the bulkhead outside Tom's door, a satchel over one shoulder. With anyone else, she'd have already gone in. So she did want him to run interference then, not for his technical skills.

"So what's the problem, B'Elanna?" he asked. "Tom damage his replicator trying to hack into it again?"

"Probably," she said. "Hit the signal, would you?" She was rummaging around in her satchel.

Harry did as she asked, turning to face the door. While waiting for Tom to answer, he felt B'Elanna tug slightly at his hair. Puzzled, he tried to look around, but she put a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him still. Her other hand jerked at the back of his collar, and there was sound of fabric tearing.

"B'Elanna! What are you doing?!" She was ripping his uniform right off of him. Jacket, pants, shirt, undershirt. . . it was all falling in shreds around him. He was too stunned to resist. Soon there was nothing left but his underwear and his boots. At which point she gave him a hard shove, and he tumbled forward onto the floor. . . right at Tom's feet. He must have opened the door sometime while Harry's clothes were being torn off him.

"Have you gone crazy?" Harry yelled at B'Elanna. There was a flash, and he realized that she had taken a picture. Then the door slid shut.

He sprang toward the door, and crashed into it when it remained closed. "B'Elanna! Computer, open this door!"

The computer answered. "Unable to comply without authorization codes. Door has been sealed for safety reasons by order of the Chief Engineer."

"B'Elanna!"

There was no answer. Enraged, Harry paced back and forth. "I don't believe this. What in hell is she thinking? We've got to do something. She's out of her mind, she has to be. . . " Abruptly, he stopped, noticing that Tom didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he was grinning.

"What's so funny?" Harry demanded.

Tom laughed. "What's so funny? Harry, look at you!"

Harry looked down at himself. He supposed he did look ridiculous, wearing only his undershorts and his boots. But still, it wasn't that funny. He glowered at Tom, who looked irritatingly handsome tonight, dressed in a casual, open-necked white shirt and snug tan pants.

Tom only laughed again, then put his hands on Harry's shoulders and guided him over to the desk. A touch, and the computer screen took on a mirror finish, showing Harry his reflection.

Harry blinked. There was a big, fluffy, red bow in his hair. Scowling, he yanked at it, and only succeeded in pulling his own hair. "Ow!"

"Hold on. There's a magnetic clasp," Tom said, laughing more. He pushed Harry's hand aside, and did something to the ribbon that caused it to fall into his palm. He offered it to Harry with a flourish. Harry flung it away angrily.

"I just don't understand," Harry said. "Why would she do this to me? What did I do to her?"

"You don't understand? Harry, she stripped you naked and threw you into my quarters wrapped in a gift bow. Then locked the door. What do you think it means?"

It slowly dawned on Harry, what Tom was getting at. "No," he said weakly. It couldn't be. She wouldn't. . . he couldn't. . .

Tom's hand cupped Harry's face, his thumb brushing his lips. "Harry. . ."

"No!" Harry protested, trying to disregard the slow heat that touch kindled in him. "I told you, it just wouldn't be right."

"Why not?" Tom countered. "I think B'Elanna's made it pretty clear that she has no objection."

"It still wouldn't be right," Harry insisted. He went to the replicator. There was, he suspected, nothing at all wrong with it. "Computer, one uniform."

The replicator beeped, and something materialized in it. But it wasn't a uniform. It was, near as Harry could tell, a gourmet dinner for two, complete with wine, flowers and candles. Nothing at all wrong with it - except that B'Elanna had hijacked its programming. "Damn it!"

Tom leaned over his shoulder, peering at the items. "Mmm. I love Oysters Rockefeller."

A jet of hot fury surged through Harry. He was almost out of control, and he hated feeling that way. He spoke as calmly as he could, grimly hanging on to his composure. "I'm calling the Captain and demanding that door be opened."

"Wait," Tom objected. "You'll get B'Elanna in trouble. She meant well."

"I am not staying here another minute!"

"I'll take care of it. Calm down." Tom didn't look angry, just very sad. "Paris to Torres." Silence. "B'Elanna, I know you hear me. Answer."

"What is it, Tom?" she replied.

"Open the door."

"But-"

"Lanna, please."

"All right," she said reluctantly. A chime sounded, indicating the door was now unlocked.

"Thanks, B'Elanna." Tom turned to Harry. "Do you want to borrow some clothes?"

Harry hesitated, torn. Part of him wanted to stalk out immediately, accepting no favors from Tom Paris. But it would be just too embarrassing, walking the corridors dressed only his boots and his underwear. "Thanks," he said grudgingly.

Tom went into his closet and started rummaging around. Harry followed him.

"Here." Tom thrust some clothes into his arms. "They'll be a little big, but they should do." He paused, then added, "Harry. . . Just tell me one thing. What's made you so skittish, anyway? Was your parents' marriage that bad?"

"It has nothing to do with my parents," Harry said, stung. "You leave them out of this. And I am not skittish!" He frowned, seeing the skeptical look on Tom's face. "I'm just. . . cautious."

Tom smiled indulgently. "Only sometimes. Sometimes you throw yourself into things with utter fearlessness."

"Only when they're not important," Harry said.

"And this is?"

"It's the most important decision I'll ever make in my life." And that, Harry suddenly understood, was the probIem.

"It's easy, Harry. Just follow your heart."

"If I followed my heart five years ago, I'd be married to Libby." And now, he was so glad he wasn't.

"Harry, I can't promise you it will work out. But if it doesn't, it's not the end of the world. It didn't work out for me and B'Elanna, and guess what? Life goes on."

Harry turned away. He couldn't share that cavalier attitude. He just couldn't.

"Have you ever heard of a 20th century American poet named Edgar Lee Masters?"

"No," Harry said suspiciously. Was Tom going to start quoting love poetry now?

"He wrote a group of poems called the Spoon River Anthology. About a bunch of people who have died and are buried in a graveyard in Illinois. Each poem is one person's story. The saddest one is 'George Gray.' Here, let me read it to you." He got a book down from the shelf, and easily found the poem he wanted.

"I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.

For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.

Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.

To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid."

Harry shivered as the last words faded away. Tom's expressive voice evoked the regret and sorrow of the poem compellingly.

Tom was looking at him, waiting for a reaction.

"I was expecting something more romantic," Harry said, a half -hearted attempt at a joke.

"Do you want me to read you love poetry?" Tom asked hopefully.

"No," Harry said. And watched as Tom's face fell. He started forward, then stopped. I'm not sure I'm ready for this! But he'd known. . . and loved. . . Tom for years now. If he wasn't ready now, he never would be. And he didn't want to end up like George Gray, the story of his life being what he hadn't done. Nothing could be worse than that. He braced himself, and continued forward, into Tom's arms.

Tom's embrace was tentative at first, as if he were afraid Harry would break. Then suddenly he was hugging Harry with bonecrushing strength. Tom's whole body was trembling, his breathing uneven. "Are you all right?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded. "It's just...I've dreamed of this moment for so long." Very, very gently, he kissed Harry. A sweet, sensual kiss with more tenderness than passion in it. For a long moment, they stood still, leaning against each other, sharing an embrace. Harry could feel Tom's heartbeat, his breath against his cheek, the heat of his skin. This was what he'd resisted for so long? He was an idiot.

"Tom, I love you," he whispered. Tom made an low, incoherent sound, and hugged him as if he would never let go. Harry sighed. He'd never felt so free in his life.

"And now for the picture of the week," the Doc said. That was the only thing that kept people attending his lectures - the humorous and often embarrassing photos he showed at the end. Those who had fallen asleep were nudged awake, and all eyes turned toward the screen.

There was a roar of laughter as the image appeared. Harry blushed furiously. Once again, it was a photo of him and Tom. He was lying on the floor at Tom's feet, stripped to his underwear, a big red bow on top of his head. They both had identical surprised expressions on their faces, though he was staring at the camera, while Tom was staring down at him.

"This image is courtesy of Lt. Torres," the Doc announced. Tom, sitting beside Harry, was laughing. B'Elanna, on Tom's other side, had a wicked grin on her face.

Harry found he was too happy to be annoyed. "That reminds me. You owe me a uniform, B'Elanna," he said mildly.

"I'll keep it in mind for your wedding gift," she said with a beatific smile.

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