The BLTS Archive- The Frog King #3:" All These Years by T'Reija (Theganan@gmx.de) --- Post/Archive: ASC, ASCEM(L), others please ask. Disclaimer: The fictional characters Harry and Tom belong to Paramount. The actors belong to themselves, and have nothing to do with this. The lyrics belong to a German Punkrock band called the Toten Hosen. I own the creative content of this story and ask that you notify me before archiving, though private sharing among friends is okay and encouraged. Thanks for your attention, and on with the story... Note: ... in a second. Bear with me, please. Just for those who know the band who sings this song - they have a couple of English lyrics, too. There is an English version of this song, it is called "Wasted Years" and though the content is slightly different, I would have included it - did I have the text or were motivated enough to type it myself ;). However, if you like Punkrock and would like to hear this song, perhaps they have it at the local disc shop. The album is called Love, Peace & Money. Dedication: This story is dedicated to someone I love, because I felt like Tom in this story this for a long, long time - sometimes rightly, sometimes not - and though we have our differences and problems with our friendship after the other, I like to remember the good times... they were wicked... and wonderful. I hope you think of them fondly too, at least... sometimes. August 2001 --- I'm standing in Harry's room, looking into his dark brown eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything, to show any sign of recognition. For a moment, when he was in the bathroom, I thought he was crying, and he probably was, to judge by the redness of his face, just a little to clean, a little to fresh-looking, a lock of hair wet from the water he probably used to wash off the tears. But I guess though he was evidently crying, it was for some other reason than love... it could not be love... he never cared for me as much as I cared for him, at least not as a lover. Oh, he loved me, sort of... but he never needed me, as I needed him... need him... in my life. After all, I'm Tom Paris the fuck-up, or, to say it aloud, trouble. This quiet is killing me. I want to speak, want to tell him how good it is to see him again, to be able to speak to him again, from face to face, not over a comm... but for some reason, I cannot. I'm too occupied with looking at him. It's been so long... he is still so beautiful... But I find nothing in his gaze. It is fixed, like stone, cold. I can't find the passionate lover in it, nor the best friend I've ever had. The seconds pass by, transforming into years over years of anxiety and fear. Harry, I scream inwardly, please, remember... all the fun we had, all the good times... those hours on the holodeck, in Sandrine's, in Voyager's mess hall... those hours in your bed, or mine... It's as if they'd never had happened, as if they'd all been annihilated. All these years, just gone. Where's the spark that always was between us, even before we were lovers? The spark that enabled us to complete each other's sentences, that made us know when the other wished to be left alone, and when he needed someone to lean on, someone to talk with? I'd always thought there was absolutely nothing that could come between us, though when we first became lovers, I'd feared that would... in the end it did, but we lasted long... Still, had we ever really vowed on our friendship, our love? Marriage was out of the question, since Harry felt that was something he shared with Libby though he'd finally come over her and wouldn't have returned to her anyways, and since I was so uncertain about the future... theoretically, there still could have been prison awaiting me here in the alpha quad. But marriage wasn't the only form of commitment. Okay, we had never cheated on each other, and at least on my part, he had been the only thing I really needed in my life. Yet, even if we had ever committed, the reason for it is lost now, and long ago has been. Oh Gods, but it hurts. To think of the times... to try and will him to remember, to put all my love into my gaze and not see it return, as if it never had been... and I know it had been there once, maybe not all the time, perhaps only little moments, but sometimes... 'Do you feel the same, Harry? Do you feel this utter loss at no longer being able to understand the other, to no longer know what moves him?' I can't stand it. There are only two things I can do now, and the first - probably the best - is to turn around, walk out of this door and out of his life, forever. And the other... There's no helping it, though I try to fight the urge, I touch him, stroke his skin that feels tight to the touch, circle his neck. He closes his eyes with a gasp, probably not daring to shake me off, or in surrender to old feelings that are no longer there, only memories... or, of course, in plain shock. I know it's stupid, but I lean forward, cannot resist the urge to touch his trembling lips with mine, to feel the velvety touch of his skin, the erotic moisture of his tongue... the feeling of his body pressed against mine, yielding to my touch... Shit. Breathing heavily, I part from him, examining his expression closely. Yes, *had* he responded, and yes, I *had* felt hardness beneath the thin cloth of his trousers, but that could be reflex, loneliness or any of a hundred reason. Now, there is but a blank, dead look in his eyes, a wary caution. "Harry..." I can't stop the word from coming out, can't hold back the pleading in my voice, but I know it is useless... Without another word I turn around to leave, not wanting to wait for the 'thank you, but no thank you', not having the strength to explain, to say "I'm sorry"... I did say it, though it was barely a whisper, and I am. But above all else, I cannot stand what were to come did I not leave. Maybe, coldness is better. Better than pity. --- The End --- And, for the few among you who speak German... Die Toten Hosen - All die ganzen Jahren Du hast mich noch nicht erkannt, obwohl ich vor dir steh. Ich möchte mit dir reden, doch irgendwie kann ich's nicht. Ich hab dich lang nicht mehr geseh'n, guck jetzt in dein Gesicht, Ich suche einen alten Freund, doch ich entdecke nichts. Versuch dich zu erinnern, wir hab'n so viel erlebt... Es ist, als wäre das alles nicht gescheh'n. Nichts ist mehr geblieben, alles ausgelöscht. All die ganzen Jahre. Ob's dir wohl auch so geht, daß du mich nicht mehr verstehst. Es ist, als wäre das alles nicht gescheh'n Nichts ist mehr geblieben, alles ausgelöscht. All die ganzen Jahre. Wo ist der Funke, der uns verbunden hat? Es gibt nichts, das uns trennt, habe ich immer gedacht. Haben wir uns wirklich jemals die Freundschaft geschworen? Wenn es einen Grund gab, wir haben ihn verloren. Versuch dich zu erinnern, wir hab'n so viel erlebt... Es ist, als wäre das alles nicht gescheh'n. Nichts ist mehr geblieben, alles ausgelöscht. All die ganzen Jahre. Ob's dir wohl auch so geht, daß du mich nicht mehr verstehst. Es ist, als wäre das alles nicht gescheh'n Nichts ist mehr geblieben, alles ausgelöscht. All die ganzen Jahre. Deine Augen bleiben tot, und ich weiß jetzt Bescheid, Ohne ein Wort zu sagen, geh' ich an dir vorbei... Versuch dich zu erinnern...