The BLTS Archive - The Valley
by Emma Woodhouse

---

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager, and all these nice people are the
property of Paramount. Yes, it's true! All the bit players in today's
drama have appeared at least once on a Star Trek Voyager episode.
Dalby and Henley, Nicoletti and Ayala - can YOU identify the episode?
Collect them all, impress your friends! (Well, I invented Lars and
Abner, but Paramount can have them if they want them. . .)

Warning: NC-17 means sex, and Paris/Kim means that's who.

Although P/K, this story is not a continuation of my Tom 'n Harry saga
('Tom, Dick and Harry', 'Lifewish', and 'Unforgettable') - I just had
the urge to do First Time again. This is a stand-alone story, the
sequel to none, and the prequel to none. The story takes place
sometime before Future's End (hence the Doctor's confinement to
Sickbay), but sometime after The Chute.

Yes, we're dealing with Chute Issues, and you know what that means:
All aboard the Angst Express!

---
Obligatory Obscure Quotation:

"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty
recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity:
but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their
dream with open eyes, to make it possible."

T. E. Lawrence
Seven Pillars Of Wisdom
---

Because I begin my tale with an epidemic of a virus familiar to all
Trek fans, Taffy calls this story "The Naked Yet Again", but I call it
-

The Valley

---

"Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 50239.6: I have identified the
virus affecting the crew as the same or very similar to one which was
encountered by the USS Enterprise on Stardate 41209.2. The CMO of the
Enterprise managed to synthesize an antidote to the virus, but the
crew onboard the USS Tsiolkovsky was not so lucky - their own bizarre
behavior doomed them all. I am in the process of synthesizing the
antidote, based upon the notes of Doctor Beverly Crusher, and expect
to soon have the cure in hand - "

The Doctor sighed, and switched off the recording. Soon have an
antidote and then what? He was unable to leave Sickbay. Kes had
wandered off several hours ago. The bridge was deserted, the ship
locked in orbit around an uninhabited planet, and he himself had
locked the turbolifts to the bridge.

At least the Captain had seen what was coming, and given him the
command codes, before she too was infected by the virus. Now the
Emergency Medical Holographic Program appeared to be in command of the
ship. He has received some garbled messages from several persons
onboard who still seemed to be unaffected, but not for the past hour.


He still couldn't quite believe it. Knowing how fast a virus could
spread, and actually seeing it in action were two different things. It
was almost frightening.

He had all of Beverly Crusher's notes on the virus, and knew that it
passed easily through simple contact and seemed to elude the
transporter's filters. The only solution was to administer the
antidote to all hands.

The virus sounded harmless enough. Apparently, all it did was
eliminate the victim's inhibitions, so that they would act on impulse
with no thought of the dangers involved.

And the amazing thing to him was that, if Doctor Crusher was to be
believed, none of the crew had been acting out of character, that all
their bizarre behaviors and desires had actually been hidden in there
all along. In the past day, the Doctor had decided that he really
preferred his biological lifeforms inhibited.

Even Kes - KES, of all people! She had seemed perfectly fine, until
she suddenly put down her medical tricorder, and loudly proclaimed
that she was sick of Neelix treating her like a porcelain doll and was
going to go find someone willing to fuck her brains out. And she had
left.

Now the Doctor thought furiously. He was in a realm outside his
expertise, trying to think for the whole ship, trying to out- think a
entire crew of bizarrely intoxicated lifeforms who would be carelessly
killing themselves if he didn't succeed in removing all opportunities
for them to do so.

He had locked all the airlocks on his personal code, seized control of
life support, and deactivated all ship's weapons and shuttlecraft.
Personal hand phasers were out of his power to deenergize. He had
considered releasing a sedative gas into the ventilation system, but
his databases told him that was too dangerous with the virus running
rampant through the crew's bloodstreams, it could very well kill them.

First, do no harm.

Once the antidote was finished synthesizing, maybe he could think of
some way to lure some of the crew into Sickbay.

---

"Harry! Duck!"

Harry Kim heard Tom Paris' voice behind him, and ducked as best he
could. It wasn't easy, with Chell attacking him. The Bolian was in a
crazy rage, and was biting the ensign's hand.

Phaser fire lanced over Harry's head, hitting Chell squarely. He
dropped to the ground, stunned, finally letting go of Harry.

Harry looked down at his hand. It felt numb from the phaser blast, and
he was surprised to see that it was bleeding freely.

Tom hurried over to Harry, and said, "Come on, we've got to get out of
the corridors - it's crazy out here!"

"Sickbay," Harry said. "I heard the Doctor saying he had the command
codes - " He swayed slightly.

Tom took him by the arm, and said, "We've got to get that hand patched
up first, kiddo - you're leaving a trail." They rounded the corner and
were at Tom's quarters, hustling inside and locking the door.

Tom leaned against the door and sighed, as Harry collapsed on the
sofa. "Man, oh man, oh man!" Tom said.

Harry nodded. He was feeling pretty woozy. Blood from his hand seeped
down onto the floor.

Tom straightened up, and said guiltily, "Whoops, better get that hand
taken care of."

The medical kits in crew's quarters didn't include regenerators, just
first aid supplies. The gash in Harry's hand was jagged, but not
large, and Tom got it cleaned and bandaged. Then he went to work
cleaning up the blood.

Harry's head was clearing now, and he sat up suddenly and realized
what Tom was doing. "Tom! Stop that!"

Tom looked up. "Huh?"

"Chell BIT me," Harry said urgently, "and he was infected, so surely -
"

Tom looked at the bloody towel in his bare hand, and said sadly, "Oh,
hell."

"We've got to get to Sickbay!" Harry insisted.

But Tom shook his head. "We're not going anywhere until those crazies
move on. It's too dangerous out there, with Chell trying to maim every
Star Fleet officer he can find, and B'Elanna on the prowl for a
'worthy mate', and as for Neelix - !"

He flopped down on the sofa beside Harry. "Maybe we'll be lucky - some
of the people who got infected didn't start feeling it for several
hours, so we've still got a chance to get to Sickbay. If we don't get
killed first."

Harry nodded. "I guess you're right. I'll tell you, Tom, this past 24
hours has been simply unbelievable!"

"Believe it," Tom said wearily.

"I wonder where the Captain is?"

"Somewhere safe, I hope."

There was a moment of silence. Then Harry said, "I hope we're safe in
here."

"Of course you're safe," Tom said. He put his arm around Harry and
pulled him closer. "I'd never do anything to hurt Harry."

Tom's voice sounded - strange. Alarmed, Harry looked up into his face.
Tom's eyes seemed to be almost glowing. He was smiling fondly at
Harry. Uh-oh, Harry thought. Frozen, he watched as Tom's hand came  up
to gently stroke his cheek.

"Never hurt my sweet Harry," Tom said.

Oddly enough, Harry didn't feel frightened. Clearly, Tom was feeling
the effects of the virus. But Harry believed him. Tom would never hurt
him. Still, he was concerned. Tom was obviously out of his head, and
was going to be awfully embarrassed, once the Doctor managed to cure
this virus. IF the Doctor managed to cure it, he amended, remembering
the luckless crew of the Tsiolkovsky.

Tom continued to stroke his friend's face, running his thumb gently
over Harry's eyebrow. Then he slid his hand around to the back of
Harry's head, and leaned closer. "You're so beautiful, Harry. Did you
know that?" And kissed him.

Oh, my lord, Harry thought with dismay. Now what do I do?

Tom kissed Harry again. Very gently. His lips moved softly against
Harry's, and Harry couldn't deny that it felt good. Not knowing what
else to do, Harry relaxed in Tom's arms, and let himself be kissed.

He was starting to feel dizzy again. This time it must be the virus.
Why else would his arms be creeping around Tom? Why else would he be
kissing Tom back?

The two young men sat of the sofa for a long time, kissing one
another, and Harry was surprised at how good it felt when Tom's tongue
caressed the roof of his mouth.

And then Tom stood up, and pulled Harry to his feet. Harry swayed a
bit. "Tom, what are we - "

But Tom didn't answer, just took his hand and led him to the bed.
Harry fell backward on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, feeling
Tom pulling his boots off. And then Tom was beside him, kissing him
again, and unfastening his uniform. "Tom," he tried again, "what are
we doing?"

Somehow he was naked now, and Tom answered gently, "I'm going to show
you some things I'll bet you don't know."  Harry looked over at his
best friend and saw that Tom was naked too.

Tom pulled him into his arms, and the feel of naked skin on naked skin
made Harry shiver all over, as he threw his arms around Tom and joined
in the kissing. This felt simply wonderful. He hadn't realized how
starved he'd been for this physical contact. It really felt different
when it was a man in his arms. Tom was right in guessing that this was
something that Harry had never done before.

He felt Tom's lips on his throat, and Tom's hand was moving softly
over his ribcage, stroking him almost reverently. Without conscious
thought, Harry was stroking Tom, too, thinking - so different! The
larger body, the hard muscles he was lost in the feel of it. And then
he felt lips fastening onto his nipple, and gasped at the jolt of pure
pleasure.

Tom chuckled softly, and raised his head to look into Harry's eyes,
and Harry felt another sharp thrill at what he saw in Tom's eyes. Now
he simply lay back and closed his eyes, and turned his body over to
Tom. He wasn't disappointed.

It felt as if his entire blood supply had been replaced with
champagne, Harry thought, he just felt so - fizzy, tingling all over.
A stray tendril of thought reminded him, this virus is dangerous! But
it felt so good. And then he felt Tom's mouth on his penis.

Harry moaned with pleasure. He'd never imagined anything feeling so
good. Libby had tried this a couple times, when she was feeling
particularly adventurous, but she wasn't quite sure what she was
supposed to do. And Harry couldn't tell her, because he didn't know
either.

But Tom must either be more experienced or less inhibited than Libby,
Harry thought hazily. The tip of his tongue was drawing abstract
patterns on Harry's penis, and where the tongue had passed, the
wetness remaining felt cool and tingling. Warm fingers were caressing
and rolling Harry's balls, stroking feather-light, and Harry was
shivering all over.

Now Tom was kissing the soft skin of Harry's inner thighs, and he
asked quietly, "Do you like this?"

"Don't stop!" Harry croaked.

Tom chuckled, and took Harry's penis into his mouth, first sucking
hard, and then retreating to swirl his tongue around the tip. Just
when Harry was sure he was going to explode, Tom would retreat, until
the retreat became almost torture. Harry was writhing on the bed, and
he couldn't stand it anymore. "Tom! Tom, please!"

And now Tom had Harry's entire penis deep in his mouth, and Harry
thought in amazement, how can he DO that? - could I do that? He gasped
in surprise as he felt a finger slide into his anus, and was even more
surprised at how good it felt. And Tom was sucking deeply, and now
Harry was coming, arching his back and shouting as he convulsed
beneath his friend's head. Tom still didn't stop, didn't pull away,
continued his ministrations, drawing jolt after jolt of pleasure from
his delirious friend until Harry collapsed limply onto the bed.

Tom moved up the bed, and lay beside his panting friend, smiling at
him. He stroked Harry's face, and turned his head for a kiss. Harry
opened his mouth under Tom's lips, and tasted the slickness of his own
semen as Tom's tongue caressed the inside of his mouth.

Tom rolled on top of Harry, and Harry wrapped his arms around him,
thinking with a guy, there's so much to hug! Tom's lips were wandering
along Harry's shoulders now, and the slight roughness of Tom's chin
caused Harry to shiver.

Now Tom was licking Harry's ear, and whispered, "Harry? Know what I
want to do?"

"What?" Harry whispered back.

Softly, barely audibly, Tom whispered, "I want to fuck you, Harry."

And suddenly there was nothing in the galaxy Harry wanted more. He
gulped, and said, "Sure. But you'll have to tell me what to do."

Tom pulled his head back so he could look into Harry's eyes. "Your
first time?" Harry nodded, and Tom pulled him into a powerful hug.
Then he asked, "You're sure? Sure you want to do this?"

"TOM!" Harry cried. "I'm POSITIVE!"

"All right, then." Tom kissed Harry again, smiling lovingly into his
eyes, and then sat up. He grabbed a pillow and rolled Harry over, with
the pillow under his hips.

Then he seemed to think for a moment, and got up, returning after a
few minutes from the bathroom, holding a bottle and saying "Baby oil?"

Harry asked, "What for?"

"You'll see, " Tom said, chuckling softly, sitting beside Harry and
stroking his back. Harry had been feeling a little silly, in this
unusual position, feeling like his ass was being served on a platter
or something. But once Tom started stroking, he didn't feel silly
anymore, and sighed.

He gave a start of surprise to feel Tom's lips on his ass, and said
with a shaky laugh, "I never would have taken you for an ass kisser,
Tom."

Tom moved up his body, kissing the back of his neck, and saying, "Not
every ass, buddy." And then breathed in his ear, "Just Harry's."

Now Tom's tongue was tracing the crack of his ass, and Harry thought,
I can't believe he's doing that! And I can't believe it feels so good!
And gasped as Tom's tongue began to probe his anus.

Harry grabbed the corners of the bed, and held on tight, spreading his
legs wider, feeling Tom's hands roaming his hips and thighs, while his
tongue moved back and forth, from anus to balls and back again. Harry
hadn't even known that people did this, but now that he did know, he
could see why! He was moaning softly, and was astonished to realize he
was getting an erection again.

Now he felt a drizzle of cool slickness, and a slick finger was
sliding into his anus. Harry pushed against the finger, squirming
impatiently. Two fingers now, and it was rather tight, but not really
painful, and deep, deep inside him, what WAS that feeling? "Tom!" he
gasped urgently.

Lips caressed his neck, and Tom whispered, "Take it easy, buddy,
you're not ready yet. I don't want this to hurt."

Harry tried to take it easy, as he felt Tom gently stretching his
tight opening, but he wanted it right now!

And finally, he felt Tom move around behind him, stroking his back and
kissing his shoulders, and a tight pressure on his anus as Tom eased
his way into his body.

This was just so weird! Harry was trembling now, and moaning, as Tom
slowly advanced and retreated, until finally he was all the way in,
lying on Harry's back.

Tom slid his arms under Harry, hugging him tightly, and whispering,
"Oh, this feels so good. Doesn't this feel good, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and gasped, "It really does."

Tom pressed his cheek against Harry's, and said, "Try not to  come
yet, Harry - I want you in me," and Harry almost came just  hearing
it.

Now Tom raised himself on his hands, and was thrusting slowly into
Harry, groaning with pleasure, and Harry was panting and trying to
hang on, wanting to give Tom everything that Tom wanted.

He couldn't quite believe it, that Tom was inside him. Tom! Inside -
him! And he could tell that Tom was really liking it, which made him
feel so good Harry pushed back impatiently, as Tom picked up the pace,
and that internal feeling just got better and better, until Tom
shouted "Oh!" And then he wrapped his arms around Harry as he
convulsed on his back.

Now Tom was collapsed on his back, panting, whispering, "Harry, love,
my Harry."

Harry had never felt so wonderful in his life.

After a few minutes, Tom moved off of Harry, and ruffled his friend's
hair. "How about it, Harry? Want to give it a try?"

Harry rolled over and sat up, grabbing Tom and laughing, "What do you
think?"

Tom grinned at him and kissed him hard on the lips. "Then go for it,"
he said, and took Harry's place face down on the bed.

Harry was trembling. How could he not have noticed before how
beautiful his friend was? Tom lay beside him, eyes closed, smiling
slightly - Harry just had to lie down on top of him and touch as much
of Tom as he could, kissing Tom's throat. Tom sighed, and breathed,
"Oh, Harry - for so long. . ."

Harry sat up and found the baby oil, and began to prepare Tom, as he
had been prepared. If he'd once had inhibitions, back in some dimly
remembered past, he'd shed them somewhere along the way, and  nothing
embarrassed him anymore as he explored Tom's body, listening to Tom
sighing and moaning under his curious hands.

And now he took his position behind Tom, between Tom's spread legs,
and the thought that Tom wanted this too was almost more than he could
bear.

Slowly, he pushed his way into his best friend's body, feeling Tom
moving beneath him, and Tom whispered, "Oh, Harry, oh, perfect - my
dear love - "

When he was all the way in, Harry paused as Tom had done, a short
intermission to celebrate their connection, and feel it. Arms around
Tom, he kissed his throat and jaw and ear, and Tom's head was turned
to the side, and Harry kissed the side of his mouth. "You're so
beautiful, Tom," he whispered, and began to thrust slowly into Tom's
body.

He gradually increased his pace, and felt the pressure building within
him, as Tom whimpered softly and pushed back against him, and then Tom
gave a powerful shudder, and Harry paused, wondering what was
happening.

The shudders continued, and Tom threw back his head, crying out,
"HARRY!" And suddenly Harry realized - Tom was having an  orgasm. With
Harry inside him.

For a moment Harry was frozen, transfixed by the terrifying beauty of
Tom's moment of ecstasy, and then he was following Tom, and they shook
together, shouting in unison as they soared over the edge.

They rested together for a long while, Harry exhausted on Tom's back,
and then Harry rolled off, and pulled his friend to his chest.

Several drowsy kisses later, the two friends fell asleep, Tom cradled
in Harry's arms.

---

Harry woke up in stages. First came the consciousness of his own
existence. Then awareness that he was in a bed, that these weren't his
quarters, that he was naked, that he was not alone.

Then the memory of an exhausting, frightening day, an expanding
epidemic, whirling chaos and battles in the corridors.

Place. Tom's quarters.

And - sure enough - it was Tom sleeping in his arms.

Now the memory from after the battle, and Harry felt hot and knew that
he was blushing at the thought.

The virus. Had he shaken it off? He was feeling clear-headed now,
though quite embarrassed and disturbed, and he couldn't believe now
how easily he'd let himself be distracted from the ship's crisis.

But it had felt so - !

Tom was stirring now, making soft noises and moving in his arms.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Tom?"

"Mmmm?"

"Wake up, Tom. We need to get to Sickbay."

Tom raised his head and beamed at his friend. He was obviously still
firmly in the grip of the virus. "Sickbay? Why?" He planted a light
kiss on the end of Harry's nose. "Don't you feel good?"

"It's the virus, Tom - don't you remember?" Harry felt very self
conscious - good lord, they were both naked!

"Virus?" Tom looked worried, and gently stroked Harry's forehead.
"Does my Harry have a fever?"

"Uh - that's right, Tom. A fever. I'm afraid this gash on my hand is
getting infected."

Harry showed Tom his bandaged hand, and Tom viewed it with drunken
concern. "You're right, Harry. We need to get you to Sickbay."

The two men got up, and Harry managed to convince Tom to take a
shower, thinking, no way am I walking into Sickbay with all this semen
and baby oil the thought made him blush again, but he wrestled a
laughing Tom into the shower, and managed to get them both cleaned up.

Tom wanted to fool around, and kept ambushing Harry, with pinches,
kisses, caresses - Harry was both embarrassed and aroused by the
struggle, but kept firm to his task, and soon the two men were back in
uniform, peering out into the hall.

The coast was clear.

They hurried to the turbolift, and directed it to Sickbay. As the
doors open, they saw a crewman sleeping curled up in the hall, but all
else seemed quiet, and they made it to Sickbay without incident.

Harry began, "Computer, activate Emergency Medical - "

But the Doctor came out of the office, exclaiming, "Finally! Are you
gentlemen in charge of the recovery efforts?"

Harry thought about it. "I guess so."

Tom was leaning on Harry, with his arm around him, smiling at the
Doctor in a friendly fashion. The Doctor eyed him skeptically for a
moment, and then said, "I have synthesized what I believe to be an
antidote - "

Tom interrupted him. "Harry's hand is hurt, Doc. You've got to fix
it."

Harry held up his hand, and said, "It's really not much, Chell bit
me."

"The Doc's got to fix it, Harry," Tom insisted. "You were bleeding all
over the place." He stroked his friend's hair and added, "Poor Harry."

The Doctor nodded. "Of course. If you'd come right over here, Ensign -
" and led Harry to a chair. He unbandaged the hand, and treated it
with the regenerator, while Tom hovered over Harry's shoulder,
watching the procedure and stroking Harry's neck.

The hand was quickly healed, and Tom said triumphantly, "Alllll better
now," taking Harry's hand and kissing it, while the Doctor scanned
both men with his medical tricorder.

"Well," the Doctor said, "if you would just wait right here, I'll get
that injection."

And he went back to his office, thinking that human nature did seem to
have an infinite capacity to surprise him. When he returned with a
hypospray, he got another surprise.

Ensign Kim was still sitting in the chair, but Lieutenant Paris was
now kneeling in front of him, kissing his hands. "Please, Harry," the
lieutenant was saying, "fuck me again."

Harry looked down at Tom in an agony of embarrassment. But part of him
wanted to take his friend to the back room, and take his clothes off
and give him exactly what he wanted.

Tom's eyes were closed, and his lips moved gently over Harry's hands,
as he whispered, "Please, Harry-love, I want you inside me, it feels
so good - "

And the Doctor leaned down and administered the hypospray to Tom's
neck, and Tom collapsed.

Harry jumped up, exclaiming in alarm, "What happened? Is he all
right?" He and the Doctor moved Tom to a biobed.

The Doctor was scanning the lieutenant with his medical tricorder, and
finally said, "Ha! Yes, the serum is working. We have a viable
antidote!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to know. Better
give me a shot of that stuff, Doc."

The Doctor looked at him in surprise. "You don't need a shot, Ensign.
You don't have the virus."

Harry gaped at him. "I don't have the - But, surely!"

The Doctor nodded positively, and said, "In fact, you seem to be
immune. I'll need a blood sample. This is most interesting; I'll be
able to add new details to Doctor Crusher's work. A shame I can't
transmit this information to her - "

He bustled to his instrument table, and set to work taking a blood
sample. Harry tried to listen to his steady stream of comment, but his
mind was in a whirl.

Never had the virus!

Then, what was all that - stuff - about?

A groan came from the biobed, and the two turned toward it. "How are
you feeling, Mister Paris?" the Doctor asked.

"Pretty lousy," Tom admitted. He sat up, and said, "What's going on?"
There was a pause, and then he said, "Oh, yeah - that virus."

The Doctor said, "Ah, now we can begin." He handed Harry a pouch,
containing several hyposprays and replacement vials. "Here you go,
Ensign. The hypospray will calculate the dosage for you, all you have
to do is locate your patient, point and shoot. Simple." Tom slid off
the biobed and joined them.

Harry nodded. "And once we get someone else back to normal, we can
give them a hypospray, and send them off to find more people."

The Doctor smiled at them. "Exactly. Now that we've got the serum, we
should have things back under control in no time."

The two young men turned toward the door, but the Doctor called after
them, "Oh, by the way, gentlemen - " They turned back. "In this
matter, you've been deputized to the Medical Department.  That means
that doctor- patient confidentiality will be applying to you as well.
You will doubtless be finding people in some very compromising
situations, and the gossip potential will likely be enormous, but you
will just have to restrain yourselves."

Tom nodded, with an odd expression on his face. "I don't think you
need to worry about that from us, Doc."

In the corridor, Tom said, "Computer, location of Captain Janeway."

The disembodied voice of the computer answered, "Captain Janeway is in
her quarters."

"Simple enough," Harry said, giving Tom a relieved grin.

But of course, it wasn't that simple. In the Captain's quarters, the
two officers found only the Captain's uniform, with its communicator
still in place.

Tom spared a glance at the open closet door, and said, "I'm not
familiar enough with the Captain's civvies to know what she'd be
wearing."

"Let's just hope she's wearing SOMETHING!" Harry said.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to inject people as we find them."

And they set out on their task. Several crewmen were injected in the
corridor, and six in the mess hall. Harry wondered if Neelix would
ever get the mess hall cleaned up again, but that wasn't their
problem.

A whole bunch of people seemed to have gravitated to Sandrine's. They
found Kes there, sleeping in the corner between Dalby and Ayala, the
three using a tablecloth for a blanket.

The young Ocampa reacted quickly to the injection, looking around, and
saying, "OH!" She clutched the tablecloth in embarrassment. Harry
brought over her clothes, and suggested that she report to Sickbay.

Dalby and Ayala were given a hypospray and several vials of serum, and
sent off to sweep decks 1 through 4. Kes dressed quietly and hurried
off to Sickbay.

Everyone was being very subdued.

As they worked their way through deck 6, Harry worked up the nerve to
ask about it. "Tom, what - do you remember?"

There was a long pause. "Why? What do you want me to  remember?" Tom
studied Harry out of the corner of his eye.

Another long pause, and Harry finally said, "I'm not sure."

Tom said, "Well, don't worry, Harry. I hardly remember a thing. Almost
nothing, in fact."

Tom watched his friend's face lighten with relief, and stifled a sigh.
Hardly a thing. Almost nothing. I don't remember what your skin felt
like under my lips, my hands. I don't remember how close you held me
when we kissed. I don't remember how good it felt to lie beneath you -
I don't, I WON'T!

Harry felt relieved, and felt guilty about feeling relieved. He
wondered what had ever possessed him, to take such shameless advantage
of his intoxicated friend. And without even a mood- altering virus for
an alibi!

But it was best, he supposed, if Tom didn't remember. Several months
ago, Harry had made an idle comment about a couple of the fellows down
in Engineering who seemed to be making a match of it, and Tom had
shivered, and then said, "Sorry, Harry. I try not to be a bigot - but
there was some stuff in prison. . .." His voice had trailed off, and
Harry didn't want to ask anymore.

Harry realized he'd have some real thinking to do, when he had the
time. He'd never been sexually attracted to another man before. Of
course, another man had never kissed him before, either.

They found Captain Janeway in the Airponics bay. The Captain was
wearing something white and flowing and filmy, her hair was unbound
and going in every direction, and she was hard at work on a flower
garland.

Hearing the door, she turned toward the two young officers, asking
eagerly, "Do I look mad enough?"

Wondering if the question even had a right answer, Tom finally said
hesitantly, "Well, I certainly think you look - sufficiently
deranged."

More practically, Harry asked, "Mad enough for what?"

"For the part!" Janeway exclaimed. "I'll show that old fart, I can SO
go mad convincingly, I'm NOT too controlled!"

"Uh, the part?" Harry prompted.

"Ophelia!" Janeway said. "Mister Peterson took the role AWAY from me!
Said I wasn't believably mad, and gave the part to Sally Renville."

She looked at the flowers in her hand, and flung them petulantly to
the floor. "Sally Renville!" she wailed. "And she can't even remember
her LINES!"

The two men cautiously closed in on their Captain. Tom maintained eye
contact, saying soothingly, "Well, I think you'll be a great Ophelia,"
as Harry approached her from the side and swiftly gave her an
injection.

Janeway slumped back into the ensign's arms. A moment later she
opened her eyes, and looked around.

She cleared her throat, and then said, "Oh, my word."

"Yeah," Tom said.

She looked down at her attire and the flowers on the ground, and
sighed. "High school drama club. At the time, I thought it was the
worst tragedy of my life."

Then she looked up, squared her shoulders, and said, "Status report,
Mister Paris."

The Captain was back.

---

The staff meeting the next day was unusually subdued. Neelix and Kes
weren't speaking to one another.

B'Elanna Torres was suffering from guilt and embarrassment over the
four men she had beaten into unconsciousness, arrogantly proclaiming
them to be unworthy of her.

Chakotay's experiences had all been internal; he had never left his
quarters, though his mind had travelled far, to places that surprised
him.

Tuvok had been discovered in the cargo bay, looking quite normal, but
speaking in Vulcan, and apparently dressed for some ritual. Once
injected with the serum, he offered no explanations.

Harry was trying hard not to keep looking at Tom. Funny how your
perceptions can change overnight. You look at something every day for
years without really seeing it, and then once you see it, you can't
believe you missed it before. How could Harry have missed the fact
that his friend was so beautiful? The long, lean body, strong and
warm, the glorious bone structure, gentle eyes, and oh, those
wonderful, talented hands - !

Tom was staring down at the table, looking thoughtful and sad.

The Captain quickly ran through the review of the ship's status,
reminding everyone that there was still a great deal of cleanup to
complete, and then added, "Oh, and one last thing. The Doctor will be
interviewing all hands regarding their memories of the virus - some
people apparently remember nothing at all. But the interview schedule
has been posted, and your assistance will be invaluable. Of course,
all interviews will be strictly confidential."

The officers exchanged uneasy glances.

---

"So! Mister Paris." The Doctor looked up from his PADD, at the young
officer shifting uncomfortably in the chair on the opposite side of
the desk. "Do you have any memories of your experience with the
virus?"

Tom said thoughtfully, "I told Harry - almost nothing."

"Hmm," the Doctor murmured. "Almost nothing." He made a note.

Tom looked up in surprise. "Don't write that down!"

"Why not?"

"Because I lied!"

"Really? Why would you do that?"

Tom looked away. There was a long silence. The Doctor waited
patiently. Finally Tom said, "I could see how uncomfortable he was.
Embarrassed. What we did together . . . embarrassed him . . . and I
just couldn't bear to . . .."

He lapsed into silence.

The Doctor said briskly, "Well, then. How much do you  remember?"

"Everything," Tom whispered.

"Rather comprehensive."

Tom was staring off into space. "Every moment, every touch, every
feeling."

The Doctor sat very still. He'd been reviewing his psychology
databases, and he rather thought that silence on his part would be
most effective right now.


"Waking up. With him. And so perfectly happy! If only - "

An inflectionless prompt. "If only?"

"If only I had died then!" Tom cried out.

The Doctor was a bit surprised at how well this was working. Another
prompt. "Then?"

Tom got up and began to pace the office. "Right then! Before I raised
my head and looked into his eyes - saw that discomfort and
embarrassment. Right then, waking up in his arms, to such complete
happiness, so certain that I was loved - "

He'd forgotten the Doctor was there, he might have been making a diary
entry.

But then the outer door to Sickbay swished open, and Kes entered the
main Sickbay chamber, back from the lab, and Tom blinked and was back
under control. He turned to the Doctor.

"Anything else?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you, Mister Paris."

The lieutenant nodded and left quickly, and the Doctor made a note
beside his name.

---

The door to the Ready Room opened, and the First Officer entered. "You
wanted to see me, Captain?"

Janeway turned from the computer screen on the upper level. "Yes,
Commander. Here he is, Doctor."

Chakotay walked up to join the Captain, and saw that the Doctor was on
the viewscreen.

"Excellent," the Doctor said. "Now that I have you both here. I have
completed my biological analysis of the virus that infected the crew.
A shame I won't be able to share this information with Star Fleet. But
I really wanted to talk to you about something else."

Janeway nodded. "Go ahead."

"We have cured the virus," the Doctor said, "but we haven't dealt with
the aftermath."

"What do you mean?" Chakotay asked.

"This was a highly traumatic experience, for many people," the Doctor
said. "That came across most strongly in my interviews. I strongly
recommend that counselling be arranged for certain members of the
crew, and offered as an option to all hands."

"But - " Janeway spread her hands. "We don't have a counsellor."

"I have been studying the psychology database," the Doctor told her,
"and while it was not a part of my original programming, I do feel
capable of taking it on."

"Well, for that matter," Chakotay said, "I took the Star Fleet
counselling course for non-medical personnel - I was a collateral duty
counsellor when I was a lieutenant. It was a small ship, and didn't
have the crew for a medical counsellor."

The Doctor gave a surprised "Hmm!" and vanished from the  screen for a
moment. When he reappeared, he said, "Why, so you  were, Commander. I
suppose that's a lesson to me. I really should  review the personnel
files. Well, that's a relief in a way, because you  will see that the
list of people I'm referring to counselling is fairly extensive. I
would be grateful if you would share the load."

The list appeared, scrolling along the side of the screen. Janeway was
astonished. "Good lord, Doctor, that's - what? - a quarter of the
crew!"

"Almost," the Doctor admitted. "I'm sorry, Captain,  but I really do
consider it necessary. Humanoids have a tendency to hide things from
themselves, and then to be suddenly confronted with what they've been
avoiding well, it can be unpleasant."

Chakotay had been leaning forward, studying the list. "Chell," he said
thoughtfully. "Doesn't surprise me much. He always had such a grudge
against Star Fleet, and that sudden cooperativeness when the crews
were joined struck me as a little weird. Henley. There's an angry
woman."

Then he looked up and asked in surprise, "Paris?"

"Definitely," the Doctor said firmly.

"Didn't think anything would bother that smart ass."

Janeway said softly, "He tries not to show it, I suppose."

"Captain," the Doctor said, "if I had to prioritize on the basis of
need, I would most certainly put Lieutenant Paris in the top
priority."

Janeway nodded. "Well, you're the doctor, Doctor."

---

Tom lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking deeply.

Counselling! They were going to make him get counselling! Oh, maybe
not MAKE him, exactly, but he could tell that they wouldn't leave him
alone until he said okay.

When he'd understood the options, he said he wanted the Doctor for a
counsellor. Figured that if he had to talk about personal stuff, he'd
rather be talking to a computer. Chakotay - saw too much.

Tom decided that he could talk to the Doctor about the burden of
growing up in his powerful father's shadow. Maybe tell him a few of
the more disgusting prison stories. Then, after four or five sessions,
he could shake the Doctor's hand with great relief, and say, "Thanks,
Doc! I can't tell you what a help this has been!"

And that would be that.

Meanwhile, he'd figure it out by himself.

---

Harry was also in bed, masturbating and feeling guilty about it. Oh,
not about masturbating, but about the fact that his favorite Libby
fantasy kept morphing - into Tom.

The long dark hair kept changing to short gold hair, the nape of the
neck exposed for his lips. Instead of Libby's spectacular breasts, he
was remembering Tom's shoulderblades, as Tom lay beneath him, moaning.
And he leaned down and kissed the tender skin beneath Tom's ear,
thrusting faster into his friend, and Tom threw back his head and
shouted -

- and Harry came explosively, gushing through his hands.

He panted for a few minutes, and then got out of bed and went to clean
himself up, wondering what he was going to do.

He couldn't let Tom know what he was thinking, that was for sure -
fine way that would be to screw up the most important friendship in
his life, making a run on a guy who got the chills at the very idea of
men with men.

Harry slowly washed himself, wondering how this had happened, that he
was suddenly attracted to a man.

Was it that prison?

Harry shivered, and put on his warmest set of pajamas, remembering
that awful, smelly, noisy place, where a man's throat could be cut for
a crust of something that looked and tasted like compressed sawdust.

And he remembered lying beside Tom, holding his hand and knowing that
his best friend was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

And - how much he'd wanted to kiss him, and tell him how important he
was.

---

"Well, now. Mister Paris."

"That's my name," Tom said agreeably, leaning back in the chair.

"Let's talk about sex."

Well, shit. He'd planned to spend a couple sessions at least stringing
out childhood slights. "What about it?"

"It's something you like, isn't it?"

"Well, of course! Doesn't everyone?" Tom looked up and added, "Uh,
present company excepted, of course."

The Doctor nodded and said, "But many people appear to have what  they
refer to as 'hangups' about sex. Far more than they do with  other
biological functions, such as eating, sleeping, waste elimination - "

"Waste elimination," Tom said thoughtfully. "There's some hangups! I
once knew this guy - "

"Mister Paris! Are you being evasive?"

"Who, me?"

"We were talking about sex. Or rather, you were avoiding the subject."

"Okay, so I like it. So what?"

"It's just that it doesn't appear to be something you would have
repressed, something that this particular virus would bring to the
surface."

Aha! Here's the angle, let's head down this detour.

"Well, you see, it's just sex with guys that bothers me. Didn't used
to, but it does now."

"And why is that?"

And Tom was off. Telling the Doctor several perfectly true stories
about what a Federation prison was like if you were young and
'pretty'.

The Doctor listened carefully. He also observed the lieutenant's
demeanor. He wasn't quite as gullible as Lieutenant Paris seemed to
believe. But, since they were at least on the topic of discussion, he
thought it likely that he could pick up some hints for further
sessions.

The stories surprised the Doctor. The product of careful programming,
he knew a vast amount about medicine, and also a good deal about
regulations. What was not immediately accessible in his main memory
could be quickly retrieved

The Doctor listened carefully. He also observed the lieutenant's
demeanor. He wasn't quite as gullible as Lieutenant Paris seemed to
believe. But, since they were at least on the topic of discussion, he
thought it likely that he could pick up some hints for further
sessions.

The stories surprised the Doctor. The product of careful programming,
he knew a vast amount about medicine, and also a good deal about
regulations. What was not immediately accessible in his main memory
could be quickly retrieved from the database.

But there were some things the Doctor had simply not thought about.
Like the idea that regulations are not always followed, not always
even intended to be followed. Rape was illegal in the Federation, the
New Zealand Penal Settlement was run by the Federation, therefore
prison rape did not occur.

The fact that it did occur, widely, routinely, and with the implicit
knowledge of the authorities, was an entirely new concept. A
disturbing concept. The Doctor had never thought to question the
benevolence of authority.

He might even have doubted the lieutenant's veracity, but as they were
talking, he was also doing a system-wide database search, and he found
corroborating evidence in some legal opinions tucked away in the
judicial files. Apparently, it did indeed occur. Often with the
complicity of the authorities.

And the young man in front of him had gone to the prison library on a
slow afternoon, not having been warned about the guard on duty, and
found himself, as he said, "Bent over a table in the storeroom,
getting slammed in the ass."

"And do you know what bugged me the most, Doc?" Tom wanted  to know.

"What?"

"I kept thinking - this guy's clocked in, he's getting PAID for this!
That really griped me, for some reason. I guess I was pretty naive in
those days."

And the guard in the library was just the beginning.

The Doctor listened, silently for the most part, to the story of
learning to get along in prison, and the compromises you made, and the
things you learned not to care about, the protection you learned not
to expect.

And though it disturbed him, and interested him, he still couldn't
shake the feeling that the lieutenant was relieved that they weren't
talking about something else.

---

The crowd at Sandrine's was rowdy that night. Most of the cleanup was
complete, and many of the crew had recovered from the first
embarrassment of what they had wound up doing under the influence of
what some were calling the Enterprise Virus. Several had even gone so
far as to assure others that "we'll all laugh about it some day."

Neelix had enlivened the occasion with a barrel of Talaxian ale, still
quite raw, but invigorating. He was speaking to Kes again.

Tom Paris was the life of the party.

He'd been thinking about it, and he decided that maybe it really was
just about sex. It was, as he'd told the Doctor, something he enjoyed.
So maybe he just hadn't been getting enough lately. Too much time
hanging around with Harry, listening to the kid practice the clarinet,
and talking with him. Tom liked Harry, he was a great kid and all
that, but a guy did have other interests.

Harry watched Tom leave Sandrine's with BOTH the Delaneys, and
sighed. At least Tom seemed to have no lasting ill-effects from the
virus, so he didn't have to feel guilty about that.

Harry knew that Tom was one of the crewmembers referred to
counselling. It wasn't a matter of public record, but on a small ship,
things like that were hard to keep confidential. Harry could probably
make a list of the crew being counselled and have a fairly close match
for reality.

He wasn't one of them. It was kind of funny. Good old stable and sane
Harry, he sure doesn't need counselling.

Harry looked up as B'Elanna sat down beside him. She patted his hand
and said, "Stop brooding, Star Fleet. Whatever it was, it can't have
been that bad."

He looked up at her and smiled. "Says who?"

"Says me!" she said positively. "I'll bet you didn't beat up a lot of
guys like I did!"

B'Elanna was one of the few people who were being very forthright
about the whole thing. She would admit up front that she went off the
rails and now she was being counselled. She had chosen Chakotay for
her counsellor; the two of them had a long history together, and she
respected and trusted him.

Harry thought he was probably being the least forthright person on the
ship. His experiences during the epidemic were something he simply
didn't talk about, and the biggest secret he was keeping was that he'd
never had the virus at all. So he didn't have the excuse that everyone
else had, and it shamed and worried him.

He tried to bring himself back to what B'Elanna was saying.

" - all this time, thinking I had an ugliness complex from growing up
in a human colony, but apparently some part of me is so arrogant that
I don't think any man is worthy of me! Isn't that just wild?"

Harry smiled at her. "It's only the truth, B'Ela - no man IS worthy of
you. But I'm sure one or two of them would be willing to try, if you
would condescend to allow them."

She punched him on the shoulder playfully. "Anyway. Chakotay says
we'll try again to contact my animal guide - I've promised not to try
to kill it this time."

Harry tried to follow the conversation, but his mind wandered. The
thing that was disturbing him the most was the knowledge that he
hadn't had the virus. A virus infected the crew, people started acting
wild. So he had apparently decided that he too had the virus and given
himself permission to act wild.

Still not too serious of a problem, until you consider. . .. Recently,
Harry had been unjustly confined to a horrific prison. Prisoners there
had been equipped with a neural stimulator, which stimulated the
production of brain chemicals that cause agitation. The long term
prisoners were violent, impulsive, animalistic - and it was all
attributed to "the clamp".

Tom and Harry had gotten awfully agitated, too, to the point where
Harry had become downright violent. Against Tom. Since their return to
Voyager, that incident had been written off, by the Doctor, by Tom,
and Harry tried to tell himself that he hadn't been himself, that it
wasn't his fault.

But now Harry was wondering. How much of it had really been due to the
clamp? And how much of it was him giving himself permission to be as
violent and crazy as the people around him?

And it scared him.

---

Jenny and Megan were asleep, but Tom was wide awake. He was restless
and angry with himself.

The Delaneys were really wonderful girls. Funloving and uncomplicated,
they had absolutely worn him out. And the whole time he'd been
mentally finding fault with them. They were just too small, too soft,
their hips too wide, their shoulders too narrow -


He slipped out of the bed and got dressed and tiptoed out. They'd
probably be angry with him Tomorrow for sneaking out, fond as they
were of early morning play. But this just wasn't working.

---

"So, before your incarceration, you enjoyed sex with men?" The Doctor
wasn't sure which direction to go with this therapy, and was casting
about for clues.

"Oh, sure," Tom said casually. "On occasion. Anything on two legs,
sometimes." He paused and added thoughtfully, "Or  four legs, if it
was sentient."

Resolutely, the Doctor ignored this red herring. There were no four
legged sentients on Voyager.

"Let's stick with humanoids, Mister Paris."

"Oh, all right."

"Tell me about some of your earlier encounters."

Tom got a dreamy look in his eyes, and said, "Julian."

"Julian."

"That's right. At the Academy. A really nice guy. Kind of
intellectual, so we weren't really great friends at first - he was all
gung-ho about being a doctor, and I thought that was pretty boring.
But then when Susie dumped me and I was so bummed out, he was so -
nice  about it. And he'd listen to me go on and on about how my heart
was  broken and I'd never get over it, when the other guys were just
rolling  their eyes and telling me to move on. Then one day he kissed
me, and then I REALLY got over it!"

Tom didn't mind talking about Julian, those were some of the few
memories that he could look back on with pleasure. Julian had taught
him a heck of a lot, and he wickedly detailed some of these
instructions to the Doctor, before he realized that the Doctor could
not be embarrassed - sort of took the fun out of it.

"And that was that, it was fun but not terribly serious," he said at
last. "He went off to more advanced medical training, and I went off
to the fleet - " And to disaster and disgrace, he thought, his face
clouding slightly.

He left out the next part. About heading out to Voyager and looking
forward to some shore leave on Deep Space Nine, a first taste of
freedom. Until he'd overheard someone say something about "Doctor
Bashir", and realized that Julian, who had always rhapsodized about
'frontier medicine', was on Deep Space Nine.

After that, he'd hidden in his room until almost time to leave, afraid
to come face to face with his old friend. Afraid of what Julian might
say to him, after all that had happened since their last meeting,
afraid especially of what he might see in Julian's eyes - disgust, or
even worse, pity.

He finally ventured out right before departure, stopped by a Ferengi
bar for a beer before reporting aboard, and met a young ensign just
heading to his first assignment.

"So," the Doctor said. "You've compiled quite a list. Tell me, were
you in love with any of them?"

Tom looked at the Doctor in surprise. "Love? You don't really believe
that stuff, do you, Doc?"

A clue! A clue at last, and time almost up! For once, the Doctor hoped
that his next patient, a routine physical, would be inconsiderate of
his holographic feelings and show up late this time.

"What I think isn't the point," the Doctor said evenly. "Do you
believe in 'that stuff'?"

Tom's answer was a derisive snort. "Get real!" After a pause, he added
thoughtfully, "The last time anyone told me he loved me, I wanted to
kill him."

Damn! The doors to Sickbay opened, and here was Crewman Foster, right
on time.

"I'm afraid that's all we have time for today," the Doctor said with
great reluctance. He didn't miss the look of relief on the
lieutenant's face.

Tom left Sickbay, thinking he was going to have to be more careful. It
really was hard to talk for an hour without saying anything important.

---

Captain Janeway readjusted her backpack with a grimace. Turning to
B'Elanna Torres, she said, "I'd feel less resentful about hiking off
donuts if only they had been good donuts."

B'Elanna nodded, as she tightened a bootlace. "I keep reminding myself
that Neelix does try," she said.

The holodeck was set to public access, and today's program was Alpine
Wonderland. The two women had already hiked five kilometers, and told
themselves that they only had five more to do.

As they continued up the trail, the Captain said, "You know, when I
was stationed at Starbase Fifteen, there was this fabulous little
donut shop on the promenade, called Dreemy Creem - "

"Dreemy Creem! There was one of those right down the road from where I
grew up!"

"Then you know what I mean."

"The raspberry filling!"

"The vanilla icing!"

The women moaned in unison, and then Torres asked, "I wonder how close
the replicator could come to a dreemy creem?"

"Another 5K and we'll find out."

With that goal in mind, they strode out more briskly, until Janeway
suddenly halted, and said, "Listen! What's that?"

Torres listened too. It was music, and some of the most hauntingly
seductive music they had ever heard. So plaintive, weird, and longing!

They crept forward along the path, until they came to the source of
the music. Harry Kim was sitting on a rock, playing his clarinet.

"Harry! That's beautiful!" the Captain exclaimed.

The ensign jumped in surprise and then turned bright pink.

"It really is, Harry," B'Elanna said. "I've never heard it before -
who wrote that?"

"Uh, I did," Harry croaked.

"You did?! I never knew you composed." Janeway sat down  beside him.

"Oh, I haven't, not for a long time," Harry told her. "But I just got
the urge lately. This isn't finished - I think I'm going to have to
use the orchestration program to get some more instruments in - "

"What do you call it?" B'Elanna asked.

"F - " Harry stuttered and then said hastily, "Uh, Figures In A Winter
Garden."

Janeway could see that the ensign was flustered by their appearance
and their curiosity, so she patted him on the shoulder, and said,
"Well, it really is lovely, Harry. Please share it with the crew when
you're done. Come on, B'Elanna, only four more kilometers to Dreemy
Creem!"

The two women hiked away, chanted softly, "Dreemy Creem, Dreemy
Creem!"

Harry sat still, looking at the clarinet in his lap, and wondering how
crazy he was going. He'd almost told the Captain and B'Elanna  that
his new musical composition was called "Fucking Tom"!

It had been the incidents during the epidemic that had brought him
back to composition, and he knew he was sublimating his heart out, but
it wasn't curing the desire, not at all.


Now he was stuck with a really stupid name for the best piece of music
he'd ever written. He would need more instrumentation, though - a mere
clarinet couldn't do justice to Tom's orgasm.

---

Sandrine's was fairly quiet this evening, just a handful of patrons at
the bar, and two men playing pool.

The last ball rolled into the pocket of the pool table, and Tom said,
"Ha! Another one for me. Why do you want to keep embarrassing yourself
like this, Dalby?"

Crewman Dalby said amiably, "Fuck you!"

Tom looked up, suddenly intent. He smiled slightly. "Okay. Your place
or mine?"

---

Harry tossed restlessly, troubled by dreams. Not nightmares, even, but
dreams of reality.

Once again, the rancid smell seeped into his nostrils, the odor of
sweat and excrement and decay. On his explorations of this hellhole,
he'd found where the bodies were stacked, carelessly out of the way,
rotting. But the quick glance he'd spared for them told him that the
dead here didn't decay normally; there was nothing to the pile but
skeletons and a few ragged scraps of flesh, and hungry as he was, he
didn't want to think about what that meant.

A heavy weight was dragging him down, and he had nowhere to go and no
idea of what to do, and no feeling anymore but an utter sense of
failure.

When he'd first arrived here, he'd been so glad to see Tom, knowing
that Tom would know what to do, that the two of them together could
defend themselves so much better, and that made Tom important. It
wasn't till later, when Tom had been injured, becoming as Zio so
perceptively said "nothing but a burden", that Harry realized how
important Tom was in his own right. Important, and something for Harry
to protect, and that was what he was entirely incapable of doing.

---

"You're kidding, right?" Dalby must have said that half a dozen times,
but Paris insisted that he wasn't kidding.

"Come on," he'd said. "You want some, or not?"

They were entering Dalby's quarters now, Dalby still half- believing
that this was some sort of practical joke, and thinking it would be
best to handle the situation on his home turf. But once they entered
the room, Paris had simply gone about taking off his clothing with
economical dispatch, and now he was face down on the bed.

Dalby wondered what was going on. Hell, he didn't even like Paris,
though the guy was a good pool player, and he didn't think Paris liked
him either. But looking at the lieutenant, naked and waiting for him,
gave him a raging erection, and he thought, why not?

And if he didn't like the guy - well, Dalby knew, better than anyone,
that sex made a splendid weapon. Suddenly, he was as angry as he was
aroused, remembering that Voyager had been coming to arrest them, and
Tom Paris had been recruited to help. And he was shedding his uniform
as  fast as his shaking hands would permit.

Paris cried out when Dalby slammed into him, and for a moment Dalby
was worried, knowing that Paris was actually stronger than him. But
the lieutenant didn't struggle, and said nothing, just biting his lip
and spreading his legs wider.

Tom clenched his hands into the sheets, thinking that it really had
been a long time, if he'd forgotten how to accept this, and
consciously relaxed his muscles and raised his hips, certain that this
was what he'd been wanting all along.

He wasn't surprised at Dalby's roughness - he hadn't  expected him to
be gentle. Tom closed his eyes, accepting the pain, and  feeling
almost peaceful for the first time in weeks.

And when Dalby finished, Tom got up and got dressed, sparing only a
glance at the other man's angry bafflement.

On the way out the door, Tom said, "Next time, use a lubricant."

Dalby said to the empty room, "Next time?"

---

The Doctor was frustrated. For the first time, he understood why some
humans complained that there weren't enough hours in the day.  He'd
once heard that complaint with a sense of superiority to the poor
biological creatures, forced to waste hours in sleep. But now, even
for him, the days were too short.

He was counselling twenty of the crew, and there was just no way to
see his patients more than once a week. He had tried, but someone told
the Captain about his midnight sessions, and she come down to Sickbay
and quietly and firmly put her foot down. No patients were to be
scheduled between the hours of 2000 and 0800, except in absolute
medical emergencies. So there was half the day he couldn't use.

The Doctor moved all his lab analysis time to the hours when he was
forbidden to see patients, but still. People still got sick, still
needed physicals, and to have their teeth cleaned, and all the medical
minutia that the human doctor should be handling, if he hadn't been so
inconsiderate as to get himself killed.

Of course, if the human doctor hadn't been killed, the Emergency
Medical Holographic Program wouldn't be acting as a ship's counsellor
either. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about it.

Some of his patients turned out to be rather easy. Crewman Geron for
instance. He'd sat across from the Doctor for several sessions,
scowling and answering questions in brief monosyllables. But then he
came in smiling, and told the Doctor that everything was fine now.

Kes told him the rest of the story, about the evening in Sandrine's
when the little Bajoran had suddenly pounced on Crewman Ayala, taking
the big Maquis by surprise with a passionate kiss. After a moment of
stunned silence, Ayala had pulled the teenager into his arms and
kissed him back, and then they'd left together. To live happily ever
after, the Doctor presumed.

But none of the Doctor's patients were being as aggravating as
Lieutenant Paris. He seemed to fight the Doctor every step of the way,
determined not to reveal anything. Sometimes, the Doctor just wanted
to throw up his hands and say, "Fine, then. Have it your own way. I
give up."

Until he remembered what the lieutenant had said during the post-
epidemic interview, the thing that had placed him on the counselling
list, and probably the most sincere remark the Doctor had ever heard
him make: "If only I had died then!"

---

Captain Janeway looked at the viewscreen, peculiarly dark. This was a
mighty bleak area of space they were traversing right now. The few
stars dribbling past did little to relieve the darkness.

The Captain was actually glad to be in such a sparse region of space.
Less chance of running into hostile aliens, or weird spatial
anomalies. Maybe this would give them time to get their act together.

Sometimes she couldn't believe it - a quarter of her crew in
counselling! It was almost embarrassing. But she reminded herself that
both Enterprises that had encountered this virus had been able to fall
back on the resources of the entire Federation. The Doctor had shown
her Doctor Crusher's notes about the arrival onboard of Star Fleet
Medical's Crisis Intervention Team, and how quickly they'd mopped up
the psychological aftermath.

Janeway suspected the Doctor was just indicating what a difficult job
he'd taken on, a bid for sympathy was not unheard of from him. And she
did sympathize, and understood his problems, even though she found him
exasperating. What a relief that Chakotay was a trained counsellor!

She'd had an idea the other day, about starting up an arts program on
the ship, with training and performances. The idea had met with
enthusiastic reception at the staff meeting, and now Ensign Kim was in
charge of getting the program off the ground. Young Harry! Who knew
the kid was so talented? That tune he'd been playing still ran through
her head sometimes.

---

Dalby was sitting in a chair dressed only in a robe when Lieutenant
Paris arrived. The lieutenant started to unfasten his uniform, but
Dalby said, "Stop."

Tom stopped, puzzled.

"Come over here."

Tom went over to Dalby, and when Dalby reached up and pushed down on
his shoulders, he knelt, unresisting. And when Dalby opened his robe,
Tom knew exactly what to do.

Dalby looked down in amazement at the bright gold hair, as the
lieutenant sucked his penis. The guy was really good at this! But it
was the sight that excited Dalby the most - a Star Fleet officer, in
uniform, kneeling in front of him - it was too much, and he came
almost immediately.

"Now look what you've done!" he exclaimed irritably. "I didn't mean to
do that yet!"

"Sorry," Tom said softly, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, well. Go ahead, take off your clothes. We're not through yet."

Tom nodded, and began to undress.

---

The line between waking and dreaming is thin, and Harry slipped over
it unnoticing. Until he rolled over, and Tom was beside him. In a
heavy sleep, pale, and breathing with difficulty.

"If he doesn't bleed to death, he'll die from infection." Harry
remembered Zio's rough and ready diagnosis, and knew it was the truth.
And Tom hadn't bled to death, nothing so merciful as that. No, he
would die by inches if they couldn't get out of here, and the plan had
fallen apart today, since Harry learned that they weren't underground
after all, but on a space station.

He'd told Tom he was close to finding a way out, lied to him actually,
and now he tried to think of another plan, any other plan, to get them
out of this place before Tom died. And Tom grew weaker every hour, and
how he was supposed to move him, even if he could think of a way out -

He took Tom's hand, and felt how cold it was. Tom was going to die
here, he thought with despair. And then Harry would be alone in this
hellish place, unless Voyager finally found him, and then he'd be
alone on Voyager. Harry rested his head against Tom's shoulder and let
himself cry.

---

"You know, Doc, I've been thinking."

"That's always a good idea." Then the Doctor mentally berated himself
for speaking so hastily. This was not the time or the place for
sarcasm.

It didn't seem to bother the lieutenant. Perhaps he expected sharp
remarks from the Doctor.

"Yeah. I may have given you an unrealistic idea of what prison was
like. It wasn't really all THAT bad."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Those stories you told me. Were they
lies?"

"No. But still, it could have been a lot worse."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that some of the guys there did have it worse."

"Oh, so you feel you have no right to complain?"

"I don't know. Something like that."

"Hmm. Let's see. As I recall, you've told me about at least four
rapes, am I right?"

Tom nodded.

"And that's not so bad."

"Right. See, on the way to the prison, I got to talking to these two
guys, Lars and Abner, and Abner had been in before, he was some kind
of embezzler I think. And Abner said that N.Z. could get pretty rough
if you were on your own, and we ought to stick together. So we did.
Got into a lot of fights, but the guys with no alliances had a much
worse deal than I did."

Tom told the Doctor a few fight stories, making it all sound quite
swashbuckling. The Doctor listened silently, and then concluded, "So
you were lucky to have such friends."

"That's right."

"Very well. Now, I'd like to move back, talk about something we were
discussing last session." He thought he saw the lieutenant tense up.
"We were discussing love, a concept I understand you don't believe
in."

Tom nodded cautiously.

"Did you ever believe in it?"

"I guess. Maybe. When I was a kid."

"What changed your mind?"

"Life. Growing up. You know."

"I don't know. Remember, I never grew up, you might say I don't have a
life. You'll have to explain a little more fully, I think."

Silence.

"Okay, try this. You said that the last person who told you he loved
you, you wanted to kill him. Why was that?"

"Did I say that?"

"You most certainly did. What were you referring to?"

Long pause. "I must have been thinking about Susie, I guess."

"You said 'him'," the Doctor said with a frown.

"Well, I can't help that - you'd been grilling me about all this sex
with men stuff, it was a slip of the tongue."

The Doctor didn't believe him, but continued anyway. "So why did you
want to kill her when she told you she loved you?"

"Oh, I didn't then. It was only later, when she dumped me - I guess
she changed her mind. Made me mad."

"You didn't hurt her, did you?"

Tom looked at him in astonishment. "Of course not!" He was getting
uncomfortable, because he hadn't been referring to Susie at all the
last session, and now he was lying and making it up as he went along.

The human and the hologram continued their verbal sparring until the
session was over, leaving them both frustrated and irritable.

---

Tom was trying to sleep, and not having much luck. Weeks since the
epidemic, and as near as he could tell, everyone else pretty much was
back to normal.

Maybe no one else was quite as screwed up as he was.

He remembered the Doctor saying, "You were lucky to have such
friends." That's right, Tom told himself firmly. I was lucky, I really
was, it would have been a lot worse otherwise.

He'd first met them in a holding cell at the courthouse, with a bunch
of other convicts awaiting transport. Several of the old timers were
discussing prisons, speculating on where they were going to go.

Tom sat on a hard bench, beside a big young man named Lars. Lars
seemed  to have a perpetually bewildered look. Not too long ago, he'd
just been a farmer, and hadn't wanted to be anything but a farmer. But
then a treaty that he didn't understand had turned his life upside
down, and now here he was convicted of treason, just for trying to
protect his farm.

A scary-looking guy across from Tom said to the room in general, "Just
so long as it's not Montpelier."

"Why?" Lars asked hesitantly. "What's wrong with Montpelier?"

Abner, a middle-aged and completely nondescript little man, snickered
and said, "Nothing. As long as you don't mind doing your laundry on a
washboard."

Someone on the other side of the room asked, "What's a washboard?" But
everyone ignored him.

Tom wondered why the name sounded so familiar to him, and then
exclaimed, "Montpelier! That's where they had the riots!"

Abner nodded. "That's right, kid. Almost twenty years ago."

Tom remembered hearing about it on the news. Scores of prisoners dead,
not to mention almost a dozen guards, and the prisoners had some
computer and electronic experts among them, which enabled them to shut
down most of the security systems, and turn some of the others against
the authorities. Some time after the riots, the prison at Montpelier
had gone completely low-tech.

It was a famous anachronism now, with the prisoners living almost a
medieval existence. No one wanted to go to Montpelier.

"New Zealand wouldn't be so bad," came a voice from the corner. "I
hear things are pretty loose there, if you know how to cut deals."

The scary-looking guy nodded. "Yeah, I'm hoping for N.Z., myself. Find
myself a cute little honey and settle down."

"Lotta fights, there, though," said a voice from behind Tom. "I'd take
Warsaw, if they were giving us an option. Pretty strict, boring, but
you're more likely to live out your sentence. I'm too old for this
fighting business."

And when all the sentences were announced, it turned out that Tom,
Lars, and Abner were going to New Zealand. On the flight out, Abner
suggested an alliance, and the two young men agreed that it would be a
good idea.

And it had been a good idea. Not perfect, of course, since they
couldn't stick together all the time. But Tom thought things were
working out pretty well.

One day, the three men had returned to their cell, just back from the
infirmary, and were waiting for lights out. They'd been in another
fight, one they had won, and Tom was feeling pretty good about it.

But Abner was leaning back in his chair, looking thoughtful, and
finally he said, "We've sure been in a lot of fights. I hadn't
expected this many." He looked over at Tom, and said, "This is about
you."

"Hey, I didn't start it!" Tom protested.

"I never said you started it," Abner said. "But you're a target. Over
half our fights are over you."

Lars was sitting on the top bunk, swinging his legs over the side.
"You know, you're right. I'd never thought of that."

Tom looked from one to the other, his two friends, and said, "Well, I
can't help it, and I fight for you guys too."

Abner reached over and put his finger under Tom's chin, lifting his
face to the light. "But we wouldn't have to fight so much if it wasn't
for you. You're just too damn cute."

"So, what are you saying? You calling off the alliance?" Tom was
determined not to panic.

"No. Not at all. I just think you owe us. For protecting you." He ran
his finger lightly over Tom's cheek, and Tom flinched back.

Tom looked over at Lars, who had jumped down from the bunk, and he
could see that Lars was thinking deeply. Finally Lars said, "The other
guys think we're getting it already. Some guy in the chow line asked
me if Paris was really good, and I said I didn't know. He laughed."

Tom looked back over to Abner, wondering if he could talk them out of
this. Abner said softly, "Hey, it's not as if we'd hurt you or
anything. We'd be careful. We're friends here, right?"

Lars was behind Tom now, with his hands on Tom's shoulders, and he
said, "Of course we wouldn't hurt you, Tom."

There was no way out of this. Tom's shoulders slumped, and he
mumbled, "All right."

Abner got up, saying to Lars, "Me first - it was my idea."

And that became the new terms of the alliance, paying Abner and Lars
for their protection. They were telling the truth when they said they
wouldn't hurt Tom. They didn't hurt him, physically. Tom kept telling
himself to be grateful they didn't hurt him, and pushed the betrayal
to the back of his mind, until gradually he had almost convinced
himself that this had been the deal all along.

---

Several days later, Tom was in Dalby's bed, waiting. He thought this
was really working out, not seeing Harry so much, trying not to think
about him so much. No need for Tom to corrupt the kid, there were
plenty of lowlifes in the galaxy willing to give Tom what he
apparently needed.

Actually, there were even more than Tom realized.

The door finally opened, but Tom heard more than one set of footsteps.

"Hey, Paris," Dalby said softly. "I invited some guys over."

Tom looked over his shoulder at Dalby and his friends. There were four
of them.

---

Tom staggered a bit as he entered his quarters. 'Now, that's what I
call a workout!' he thought with satisfaction. Nice of the guys to let
him come a couple times.

He'd done everything he'd been told to do, cooperating fully in his
own degradation in exchange for a few blinding moments of pleasure.
And the knowledge that he would leave Dalby's quarters thoroughly
exhausted, and surely, surely tonight at least he wouldn't dream.

But he did, though.


Dammit, Lars wanted to cuddle again.

Tom sighed and rolled over, letting Lars snuggle up against him. At
least Abner wasn't kidding himself. He knew what the deal was, and
what was being traded. But Lars, the bonehead, seemed to think that he
and Tom had some sort of relationship!

Lars raised himself up on his elbow and smiled at Tom. He stroked
Tom's cheek gently, and whispered, softly so that Abner wouldn't hear
him, "You're just so pretty, Tom. I really do love you."

For an instant, Tom felt a surge of burning fury, and was almost
overwhelmed by the urge to scream - 'If you loved me you wouldn't make
me do this!'

But he choked it back, like he choked back most of his emotions these
days. He was feeling that anger again, the anger of being betrayed by
his friends, and it gnawed at him, and he knew it could only hurt him,
so he pushed it back down, telling himself once again that he was
really lucky, that Abner and Lars didn't hurt him, and he was a lot
safer than he'd be without them.

And, looking at Lars, he was surprised to feel something that felt a
lot like pity. He finally understood how Susie Crabtree must have
felt, being followed around by the teenage cadet Tom Paris even after
she'd  dumped him, and him insisting that he really did love her and
was she sure, absolutely SURE, that she didn't love him back? No
wonder she'd looked so exasperated, and finally told him she never
wanted to see him again!

Tom had grown up, and he knew better now, but apparently Lars had
never been clued in. If Tom had any lingering belief in the existence
of love, this would have killed it, this dimwitted young farmer
thinking that love was what he had here, with his prison whore who was
trading his ass for protection.

But when you believed it, it really could hurt, Tom thought,
remembering his teenaged self. So he put his arms around Lars and
pulled him close. He couldn't make himself say it, but if Lars wanted
to believe it, Tom wouldn't contradict him.

---

Harry was busier these days than he'd been in a long time, and he was
glad of it, since it gave him less time to think. And when he put in a
full shift at Ops and then ran around working on the arts project all
evening, he was less likely to have those prison dreams.

Or maybe just less likely to remember them, since he woke up some
mornings feeling so hopeless and depressed.

He'd decided that the first production of The Voyager Players would be
'Arsenic and Old Lace'. Harry remembered that when you got total
amateurs on a stage, once they got over their initial terror of being
on a stage, their first instinct was to overact like crazy. But with
this production, that would be okay. Overacting was fine.

He wasn't seeing much of Tom lately. The few evenings he'd been free,
he'd gone by Sandrine's, but Tom wasn't often there anymore. At lunch
last week, he'd asked Tom what he'd been up to lately. Come to think
of it, the first time in a while he'd asked Tom about anything - he'd
been so busy talking about his own stuff. But Tom had just said, "Oh,
hangin' around. Partying. You know."

Harry wondered just how hard Tom had been partying - he seemed kind of
pale, with dark smudges under his eyes. He was about to ask, but just
then Donna Henley had come up to the table, insisting that Harry
listen to her ideas about set design, and Tom had finished eating and
left.

Harry had talked Commander Chakotay into taking the part of Uncle
Teddy, and the Captain was still trying to decide which aunt she
wanted to play, looking over the script at him and saying
authoritatively, "But make no mistake about it, Ensign, I WILL get to
be mad on stage if it's the last thing I do!" She couldn't decide
which aunt had the funniest lines.

He'd tried to talk Tom into playing Mortimer, since he thought that
Tom was the best-looking guy on the ship, and would be perfect for the
role of Well Known Bachelor Mortimer Brewster. But Tom had just said,
"You're kidding, right?"

"Why not the holodeck?" Sue Nicoletti wanted to know. They were in the
cargo bay, which Harry was going to convert for the play.

"Because Harry's just an old-fashioned kind of guy," Donna Henley
said.

Harry tried not to glare at her, but he was a bit peeved that she'd
managed to come along.

He had decided recently that the best thing for Tom would be to get
himself a nice girl and settle down, that ought to take care of the
late-night partying that seemed to be wearing his friend down. And
maybe if Tom was settled down, those fantasies would go away, about
Tom and the virus and how wonderful it had felt to hold him and kiss
him, so cherishing.

And he knew that Tom was interested in Sue, so he thought he could do
a little matchmaking, and had recruited Sue to be his stage manager.

They were supposed to be talking about the logistics, of stages and
props and seating, and he'd thought that maybe later he could work
around to a personal conversation, and see what Sue thought about Tom.

But here was Donna, with her pet theory about set design, which she
called Neo Post-Retroism, claiming it was all the rage on Alvida Five.
She said the set should make a Statement, but from the little that
Harry understood of her latest craze, he rather thought that he didn't
want HIS set to be making this statement at all.

"Look, Donna," he said wearily. "It's going to be Victorian. Used,
old, shabby-genteel Victorian."

Donna looked interested. "Hmm! The Irony of Realism! You know, it just
might work."

Well, he wasn't going to be able to shake Donna. But the three of them
discussed seats and lighting, and that shaded over into general
conversation, until Sue, who thought of Harry as a very sweet younger
brother, said something about the difficulty of getting a decent date
on this ship.

Aha! An opening! Harry said casually, "Well, what about Tom Paris? He
likes you."

But Sue just rolled her eyes. "Oh, SERiously, Harry!"

And Donna said, "Yeah, Harry! Come on, Sue here is a classy lady.  Why
would she want to have anything to do with a slut like Tom Paris?"

Harry looked at them in surprise. "Oh, hey, he's not THAT bad!"

Sue leaned over and patted his hand. Harry jerked his hand back - he
hated being patronized. Sue said kindly, "Look, Harry, I know he's
your friend, but honestly - that SICK thing he's got going on with
Dalby - !"

"Dalby?" Harry protested. "Come on, Tom doesn't  even like Dalby!"

"Like I said, sick," Sue said dismissively.

"Well, it's not just Dalby," Donna said mysteriously. "There's a lot
more to it than that!"

Sue looked interested. Here was some new gossip she hadn't heard yet.
"What do you mean?"

"Just that Dalby likes to share with his friends," Donna said. She
lowered her voice impressively, causing them to lean toward her. "I
heard, from someone who was THERE, that Dalby decided to invite some
buddies along a couple weeks ago. Guess he'd never even  bothered
checking with Paris, 'cause this guy who was there said that  he
thought Paris looked a little surprised when they came in, but then he
just laughed and said, 'Hey, the more the merrier.'"

Harry was never sure how he managed to finish that conversation and
get out of the cargo bay. But he did get away from Sue and Donna, and
hurried to Tom's quarters.

Tom wasn't there. A computer query told him that Tom was down in the
enlisted quarters. It was close to midnight.

Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to go storming down to Dalby's
quarters, and pull Tom out of there, away from those guys. But he was
afraid to. Afraid that Tom would laugh at him, would ask him what the
problem was, would tell him to get lost.

He slumped down onto the sofa, remembering sitting here, kissing Tom.
Those memories, so precious even though they made him feel guilty. He
closed his eyes, remembering Tom whisper in his ear, "I want you
inside me." And how special and unique and cherished he had felt then.

Harry clenched his hands together, glad that Tom wasn't here right
now, because he wanted to hit him. He was so worried, he felt so sick,
he felt so angry.

His eyes closed.


No way out. There had to be a way out, and he would find it, and if
none of these crazies would help him, if they were too stupid to work
together, he'd do it himself.

But when he got back to the hut, there was Tom, dismantling Harry's
work, all the hours he'd put in to route around the force field, and
Harry just watched him, stunned. That was their last, faint and futile
hope of getting out of here, and Tom had just ruined it.

And then Tom looked at him without a glimmer of recognition, and said,
"Stay back!"

Harry lost it, he totally went berserk - he just felt so hopeless, so
angry, at himself, but most of all at Tom - Tom, so long in dying and
still not dead, seeming to be hanging on just to mock Harry with his
own ineffectualness, to wear him out and drag him down. He started
hitting Tom, as hard as he could, and he couldn't stop, he was just so
tired of it all, he just wished Tom would die, he wanted to die -

- but a faint glimmer of sanity reached him through the veil and he
looked down, and it was Tom, TOM that he was hitting, and even if Tom
didn't recognize Harry, Harry still recognized him, and he froze in
horror, hearing Zio say, "Go ahead, finish him."

Harry scrambled out of the hut as quickly as he could, but Zio
wouldn't let him alone, following him to tell him how much easier
things would be if only Tom were gone, and he held out a knife, saying
persuasively, "Think what a relief it would be - "

But what made Harry take the knife was the thought, 'Think what a
MERCY it would be - '.

---

Tom entered his quarters, unsteady on his feet, wondering where Dalby
had got ahold of real brandy.

But he was jolted back almost to sobriety when he saw Harry asleep on
his sofa. He felt the yearning again, and thought with despair, I
haven't been punished enough.

He didn't know how much more he could take, but it wasn't  enough,
because there was Harry, his dear friend, the sweet, beautiful,
innocent boy, and he still wanted him, wanted to hold him and - love -
him, so he hadn't been punished enough.

Harry woke with a jolt, as Tom bumped into the desk, and he sat up and
blinked in the light, so different from the dingy prison he'd just
left. He saw Tom, saw the trapped, hopeless look in his eyes, and
still felt the echo of his dream, '- so long in dying and still not
dead - '

And heard Zio's voice again - "He's too far gone to be your friend."

Harry shook himself angrily, wondering why he was still listening to
that lunatic with a manifesto, like he was some sort of prophet or
something.

"Tom," he said softly. "What are you doing?"

Tom shrugged. "Just - y'know. Partying. Having a good  time."

But his eyes said something different, so wounded.

Tom thought he felt something dying inside, trying to talk with Harry,
just back from them. There'd been six of them tonight and they'd all
wanted more than one turn, but he hadn't been able to forget Harry
tonight, not for a moment, it just wasn't working and he couldn't take
it anymore.

A tear trickled down from his eye, and Harry was instantly beside him,
putting his arm around him, remembering what a burden this had once
been, before he realized - that it wasn't.

That had been the secret of the Akritirian prison, when he finally
realized that just because he couldn't save Tom didn't mean that he
had to survive him, and suddenly everything had become so simple.

"Tom, you've got to stop this," Harry said firmly, and Tom nodded
weakly.

"I just can't - not anymore - " Tom whispered, and his breath was a
nauseating mixture that Harry finally identified as brandy and semen.

Harry helped his friend into the bathroom, and got him undressed and
under the shower, and Tom went along compliantly.

Harry felt a momentary nostalgia for the epidemic, remembering Tom in
the shower, giddy and playful, and compared that to this passive
creature letting the water run over him. Whatever that virus had
awakened in Tom, Harry wanted it back.

He carefully washed his friend, and then dried him, as gently as he
could, since Tom's body was a battlefield of scratches and bruises.
Some of the bruises were fresh, but many were yellow with age. So this
was nothing new, Tom had accepted this treatment and gone back for
more.

Harry wrapped Tom in a fleecy robe and led him back out to the front
room, where they settled down on the sofa, Tom curled up on his side
with his head in Harry's lap. Harry gently stroked his friend's hair,
and wondered what to do.

"Tom? Why are you doing this?"

"It feels good - some of it - " Tom sighed. There was a long pause.
Finally Tom said, "And when they're on top, I can close my eyes, and
pretend - "

"Yes?"

"Pretend they're you," Tom mumbled.

What Harry felt was a strange mixture of astonishment and anger.
"You're saying you go to a bunch of guys that treat you like THIS, and
pretend it's ME?!"

"But they at least touch me," Tom whispered.

"Oh, god, Tom!" Harry tightened his arms around his friend. "I'm
touching you now, aren't I? Well, I'll touch you any way you want if
you'll promise you won't go there anymore."

Tom nodded.

Harry got Tom tucked into bed, and Tom reached out and grabbed his
hand. "Don't leave me," Tom said, and Harry felt a jolt of
recognition.

He stroked Tom's face gently, and said, "Of course I won't leave you,
Tom." He almost said that everything would be okay, but the last time
he'd said that, he'd been lying. So he just slipped out of his clothes
and into Tom's bed, and pulled Tom into his arms.

Tom settled peacefully into Harry's arms, and closed his eyes. Harry
stroked Tom's hair and remembered the last time he'd been here, and
how embarrassed he'd been when he woke up. He wondered why,  now -it
felt like he belonged here.

---

Tom woke up the next morning feeling good, for the first time since -
well, in a long time. He felt warm, and realized that he was not
alone.

He lifted his head, and saw Harry, still sleeping, and smiled,
thinking again - not alone.

This was more than he could ever have hoped for. But he'd have to be
careful. Don't trail him around like a sick puppy, Tom told himself,
that sure didn't work with Susie.

He's my friend, Tom thought in wonder, my best friend. He gently
stroked Harry's cheek.

Harry woke up and smiled. "Morning."

"Morning, gorgeous." Tom hesitated, then leaned down and  kissed Harry
on the lips. He was relieved when Harry wrapped his arms  around him,
and enthusiastically kissed him back.

After a moment, Harry pulled away. "Hey, we don't have time for this
to get really interesting! Can I have a rain check?"

Tom chuckled. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Some more of this, I hope!"

"Okay, it's a date."


---

Tom was in the mess hall, selecting his breakfast, wishing that Neelix
would serve something that at least looked familiar, when Dalby came
over to him.

"Hey, Paris, me and some of the guys are having a party Tomorrow night
- "

Over by the coffee pot, Harry saw Dalby approach Tom, saw that
deadened look return to Tom's eyes. We'll see about this!

Dalby jumped in surprise, as a voice said from over his shoulder said
confidently, "Sorry, Dalby."

It was Ensign Kim. Of all people.

"Huh?"

"Tom will be busy, Tomorrow night, or any night you can think of."

"Says who?"

And now the baby ensign was crowding him! And suddenly Dalby noticed
that the kid was bigger than he'd realized. And that he looked
stronger than he'd realized. And right now, he was actually looking -
kind of mean!

Harry said softly, "Sorry." But he didn't sound sorry at all.

Dalby backed off. "Sure." He laughed and said, "Hey, he's all yours."

Harry absorbed that, and savored it. All mine! As Dalby turned to go,
he said, "Hey, Dalby?"

"Yeah?"

"See that that word gets out, would you?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say. Sir."

Harry stared after Dalby, feeling pretty good about the situation. Tom
murmured in his ear, "My hero."

Harry turned, and smiled at Tom. "Hell, Tom, if you won't disassemble
him, can I?"

But his smile faded when Tom said softly, "Oh, just leave it, Harry,
he was just doing what I wanted him to do."

The two went over to an isolated table, and Harry said earnestly,
"Tom, you need to figure out WHY you wanted him to, why you want to be
hurt like that. How are things coming with the Doctor?"

Tom shrugged. "Oh, fine, I guess. But Harry, I KNOW why - I had to be
punished for wanting you, for being so dumb as to believe that I could
- "

Harry stared at him for a moment. Finally he said, "You'd better get
over that before this evening, Tom Paris."

And Tom laughed. A nice, open, honest laugh. It reassured Harry. He
can get over this, Harry thought. I'll help him.

---

The Captain sat in the Ready Room, wondering what the Doctor was
making such a fuss about. He wanted her to talk to Lieutenant Paris,
who had cancelled one session at the last minute, and rescheduled
another and then come in late.

"Frankly, Doctor, I'm surprised he's been attending sessions this
long. I would have expected you two to have had a personality conflict
long before this. Have you considered switching Tom to Commander
Chakotay's list?"

"It's not a matter of personality conflict, Captain," the Doctor said
positively. "It a matter of resisting, of avoidance of the issue. If
you wish to switch him to another therapist, that's fine, but I warn
you, it will just be used as an excuse to begin the avoidance all over
again."

Janeway wanted to ask 'avoidance of what?', but she knew the Doctor
wouldn't tell her.

And it did seem that the Doctor was turning out to be an effective
therapist. His counselling list had been cut in half now, as the more
well balanced of the crew successfully worked through the issues
surfaced by the virus, and several of them had even given her
unsolicited testimonials to the Doctor. A surprisingly versatile
program.

She said, "I'll see if I can have a talk with him, Doctor," and ended
the conversation.

Switching off the computer, she returned to the bridge, taking a long,
thoughtful look at her Conning Officer. The other day, she'd thought
he looked a bit tired. But today, though he was a bit pale maybe, he
seemed in remarkably good spirits, his eyes sparkling.

---

Tom flew the ship, trying not to keep turning around and looking at
the Ops station. He was so excited. He kept telling himself, "I've got
a date with Harry!"

---

A date with Tom! Harry was eating his lunch, regretting that the
bridge crew's lunch breaks were staggered this week. (Rollins' turn to
do the schedule, and the guy has some weird ideas about scheduling.)
He wished he could spend an uninterrupted hour looking at Tom.
Probably just as well, though, he was getting sufficiently stirred up
just thinking about Tom.

'He wants me.' Harry sighed happily. 'I'll be so good to him, so good
FOR him - '

"Hey, Star Fleet, wake up!"

Harry jumped, as B'Elanna set her tray down across from him. She
grinned at him, and asked, "What quadrant were you visiting, Harry?"

He smiled back. "Oh," he said with attempted airiness, "Other
galaxies, other dimensions."

B'Elanna was eating fast, trying to eat and talk at the same time.
"Listen, Harry. Come down to Engineering when your shift is over -
I've just had a great idea for a new application for transporter
technology. It'll be so cool! Think about this. If you route the
annular confinement beam through the shield arrays, while remodulating
the phase variance - "

Harry interrupted her. "I can't make it tonight, B'Ela," he said,
adding unwisely, "I have a date."

Diverted from her new idea, B'Elanna sat up straight, forgetting to
chew for a moment. Then she swallowed hastily, and said, "Harry! Who
is it?"

Damn! "Never mind, B'Elanna."

"Ooh, ooh! Let me guess! You've been spending an awful lot of time
with Sue these days. And Donna keeps trying to horn in, too." B'Elanna
frowned thoughtfully. She shook her head. "Not Donna, not at all your
type. Or how about - "

Harry leaned over the table, and took her hand. "B'Elanna?"

"Huh?"

"We're friends, right?"

Puzzled, she nodded. "Of course we are."

"So I'm telling you as a friend, if you screw this up for me, I'll
never speak to you again. And I'll tell my children and grandchildren
not to speak to your children and your grandchildren."

Harry stood up. "Gotta run. Have fun with the transporters." And he
left, leaving B'Elanna lost in thought.

Transporters were forgotten for the moment, as she pondered the
question WHO? Of course, Harry was her friend, and she wouldn't
interfere with his personal life for anything. But a girl could still
speculate.

For a moment, she was satisfied with Sue Nicoletti. But then she
thought, no Sue's a great girl of course, and she had been spending a
lot of time with Harry, and both of them musical.

But still. There was that look on Harry's face. So solemn, and
protective. And B'Elanna just couldn't picture Harry getting all
protective about calm, sensible, down-to-earth Sue.

Then she remembered the other day, seeing Harry talking to Samantha
Wildman, and looking so - kind and gentle.

This was making more sense. Sweet, young, and blonde, Ensign Wildman
would bring out the protector in a man, bringing up a baby on her own.
And  that would explain why Harry didn't say who - since Samantha did
have a husband on the other side of the galaxy.

B'Elanna sighed. Well, one day, Sammy and Harry would admit to
themselves and each other that their significant others were gone for
good. Maybe then, they'd be a little more public.

---

Tom stood in front of his closet, unable to believe that he was
actually dithering about what to wear. He'd kicked his boots into the
corner, but now everything he owned seemed either too formal or too
informal, too prim or too sexy. He thought with amusement, 'I haven't
got a THING to wear! Good lord, we're going to take it off, anyway!'

But that thought made him even more paralyzed with indecision. He
considered just undressing and getting into bed, but decided that
would be a bit blatant for Harry.

Harry! 'I'll touch you any way you want -'! Tom shivered, and decided
to just stay in uniform. He wandered around his quarters, aimless and
nervous, until the door buzzer sounded.

"Come in."

Harry entered. For a moment the two men stared at one another, and
then Tom said, "Hi."

"Hi."

Another pause. Tom added, "I'm feeling all shy, here."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Look, if you think this is a bad idea - "

That finally got Harry moving, and he went over to Tom, and pulled him
into his arms, pulling Tom's head down to his. Tom wrapped his arms
around Harry, and they kissed for what felt like forever.

Eventually they broke apart, panting, and Tom gasped, "Not such a bad
idea after all."

Harry attacked Tom's lips again, and maneuvered them, still kissing,
into the bedroom. They were both dizzy by the time they fetched up
beside the bed, and leaned against one another.

Tom reached for his uniform fastener, but Harry gently brushed his
hands away. "Let me," he whispered, and unzipped the uniform, stroking
Tom all over as he eased the jumpsuit off. Tom held still, trying to
remember if anyone had ever undressed him since childhood. It felt -
so caressing.

Now Harry had unfastened the turtleneck, and slid his hands up Tom's
back, stroking the warm smooth skin as he eased the garment over his
friend's head. Tom emerged with his hair ruffled, looking so boyishly
charming that Harry laughed, as he pulled Tom back to him and kissed
him again.

Then he pushed Tom back onto the bed, shed his own uniform at
lightning speed, and pounced on top of Tom. For a long time, the two
friends kissed one another, soft long kisses, hard fast kisses, light
pecks and deep open-mouthed kisses.

Harry sat up. "Are you over being shy?"

"Think so."

"Me too." Harry quickly shed his briefs, freeing his aching erection,
and then reached over to Tom. "May I?" he asked gently.

"Oh, help yourself!" Tom sighed.

Harry eased Tom's briefs off, running his hands gently down Tom's
legs, and then moving back up beside him. He frowned for a moment,
lightly stroking a particularly vicious bruise on Tom's side, and said
sadly, "Pretending they were me?"

"Oh, forget that, Harry, I know - I'm an idiot."

"I wish you'd go to the Doctor - "

"Not for a month's worth of rations!"

Now they were kissing again, and their tongues caressed one another as
Harry leaned over Tom, determined to convince him that nobody, but
nobody, does it like Harry Kim!

He kissed Tom's throat, and licked it, enjoying the salty taste of
Tom's skin, and moving to Tom's ear to kiss and lick, and breathe
gently on the sensitive skin.

Tom's eyes were almost closed, feeling Harry, gentle, sensual,
passionate Harry. Who would have guessed?

Harry moved down Tom's body, stroking his chest, nuzzling Tom's chest
hair, and felt Tom shiver and knew he was enjoying this. He lightly
licked a nipple, sucked it into a hard point, and moved to the other.
Tom moaned. He ran his hands lightly over Tom's ribcage and hips, and
he had to be careful here because of the bruising, and he gently ran
his tongue around Tom's navel, as his hand moved further down to cup
and hold Tom's balls.

But as his finger brushed Tom's anus, he heard a hiss of pain, and saw
that it was reddened and sore. God, he wanted to cry! Instead, he
gently kissed Tom's penis, erect and quivering, and took the tip into
his mouth.

Tom felt like he was floating above the bed, simply submitting himself
to Harry's gentle care, and felt his emotions threaten to drown him.
Harry's tongue was moving over his penis now, and Tom smiled slightly,
knowing where his friend had learned that.

And now Harry was sucking deeply, taking Tom as far into his mouth as
he could, and then retreating to swirl his tongue, repeating the
pattern he had learned from Tom. His fingers stroked Tom's balls so
lightly, and his mouth, so warm and wet, and sucking so firmly - and
Tom was gasping, crying out, arching his back as he shot into his
friend's mouth. Harry continued sucking, not letting up until Tom
finally collapsed.

Then he moved up the bed, and lay on his side beside Tom, smiling at
him. "Was that okay?" he asked.

"Oh, HARRY!" Tom pulled him close.

"I mean, I couldn't get it all the way in. I tried, but it just
wouldn't fit - I didn't want to ask you how, and spoil the mood - "

Tom stared at his friend, and saw that Harry looked rather
embarrassed. Was the sweet kid apologizing for not knowing how to
deep-throat like a prison cocksucker? Tom stroked his face and kissed
him hard on the lips. "You don't need to take it all in to drive me
insane, buddy."

"Yeah, but you can do it. If there's a trick to it, I want to know!"
Harry insisted.

"Actually, it's simple once you've been half-throttled a few times,"
Tom said, and he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Oh. Tom, I'm sorry."

Tom shook himself. Don't dump all this stuff on Harry, he didn't do
it! "Why are you sorry? It sure wasn't your fault." He ran his fingers
over Harry's lips and said, "Hey, you want to fuck me?"

"No," Harry said. Seeing the hurt in Tom's eyes, he added, "Not until
I can manage to steal a regenerator from somewhere, if you won't go
see the Doctor. I'm NOT going to hurt you, Tom." He kissed Tom, and
for a long moment, they said nothing, allowing their lips to
communicate without words. Then Harry said, "But I'll sure feel
insulted if you don't fuck me."

"Well!" Tom said. "You know me - always polite."

"Mmm," Harry agreed lazily. "When you look up 'courtesy' in the
dictionary, there's Tom Paris' picture, right there."

"You bet. But first - " Tom rolled over, pinning Harry beneath him. He
smiled into Harry's eyes, and said, "First I'm going to kiss you till
you come." And fastened his mouth onto Harry's.

Harry thought Tom's remark was hyperbole, until he felt Tom moving
against him. Harry was just so hard, and his erection was trapped
between them, hot and anxious, and Tom was moving as they kissed.

And, oh could that man kiss! They were kissing frantically now,
seizing one another's lips, and Tom's questing tongue invaded  Harry's
mouth, and his hips were moving so sensuously.

Harry was moving now, positively squirming under his friend, pressing
up against him more and more urgently, and the movement became faster
and faster, until Harry felt the eruption begin, and he was shouting,
and he could see Tom's eyes holding his, so intent, so full of some
overwhelming emotion. The dark pulses of pleasure were convulsing his
whole body, and Tom held him, tight and secure, until he collapsed
limply onto the bed.

Tom held his exhausted friend in his arms, stroking him, kissing him,
gently now, and he smiled at Harry sweetly as he stroked his sweaty
face. This was - perfect. He was WITH Harry, completely with him, and
nothing he'd ever experienced could even begin to approximate this
joy. Harry looked so surprised, and so contented, as he gently kissed
Tom back, and Tom felt such utter tenderness for this wonderful young
man.

He ran his fingertips over Harry's face, and whispered, "May I?"

And Harry whispered back, "Oh, I wish you would!"

Tom moved off of Harry, and Harry rolled over. Now Tom was nipping his
shoulders, nuzzling his neck, kissing and licking his Harry, and Harry
sighed with pleasure.

Tom found the oil, and began to caress Harry's ass, slipping his
finger into the body of his friend, and Harry shivered a bit, and Tom
enjoyed his enjoyment. He moved between Harry's legs, and began to
enter him, stopping often to kiss and stroke, and make approving
wordless sounds.

Harry's eyes were closed, a slight smile on his lips, and Tom was in
now, and he slid his arms around Harry, finally admitting to himself
that he'd been wrong all along.

Because without question, it was love he was feeling for his best
friend, and he might never say it, but he was so thankful to believe
in it again.

Now he was sliding in and out of his lover, groaning with pleasure,
biting his lip to keep from saying it, and his Harry moved beneath
him, and it was perfect. A tear slid down his face and he leaned down
to gently bite Harry's neck, and he whispered, "Harry! - this is - so
good!"

Harry gasped a small sound of agreement.

They were moving faster now, as the urgency mounted, and the pleasure
mounted, and the connection became more real, more intense, and the
sounds they made grew louder, and all Harry could say was Tom's  name.

Tom felt dizzy to hear his name, called out in ecstasy from his
Harry's lips, and he knew Harry was close, so close, and he wanted to
feel it. So he reach around Harry's hip to grasp his friend's
erection, and at his touch, Harry exploded, screaming.

And Tom was just an instant behind.

They lay together panting, and finally Harry said weakly, "Whoa! That
was jeez, Tom!"

Tom chuckled, and rolled off Harry's back, pulling Harry into his
arms. "No fluid conduits through these walls, thank goodness. You sure
are noisy, buddy."

Harry snickered, and after a moment raised his head, his eyes
sparkling. "Hey, we should spend the night in MY quarters some time -
let's REALLY give Batehart something to complain about!"

Too tired to clean up, they just lay in one another's arms, and Harry
quickly drifted off to sleep.

Tom stayed awake longer, stroking his lover's hair, savoring the
feeling of love. However long it lasts will be enough, he told himself
sternly.

It had to be.

He would love Harry forever, but cherished no illusions that he would
be permitted to be Harry's lover that long. The kid's what,
twenty-three? In a few years, he'd probably start thinking about
settling down, and however much opposites may attract, it was Tom's
experience that people found mates from similar backgrounds, with
similar interests.

Tom the film buff remembered an ancient movie about a young man and a
more experienced lover, and remembered that the first time he saw it,
even as  a very young man, he'd felt a twinge of sympathy for Mrs.
Robinson. Never expected to play the role himself.

He reminded himself again, however long it lasts will be enough. He
would be grateful for the privilege of loving Harry. It might even
last as long as a year, he thought hopefully, if you don't get all
broody and possessive and weird.

And he too drifted off to sleep.

---

At breakfast in the mess hall, B'Elanna looked around and felt a bit
miffed. Harry and Tom were sitting over by the window, and Harry was
leaning over the table, talking to Tom, his eyes sparkling. So Tom
gets to hear about the date, she thought resentfully.

She went over and joined them. "So. How's everything this morning?"

"Oh, fine, B'Elanna," Tom said sincerely.

"Just great," Harry said. He looked a bit self-conscious. B'Elanna
thought, he must have Got Some last night..

Harry resolutely steered the conversation to B'Elanna's new idea about
the transporters. He wanted to shield Tom from her scrutiny, and
worried about this relationship, not wanting to expose it yet to the
harsh glare of public interest.

He'll feel less fragile pretty soon, Harry thought hopefully. If I
just take care of him, and make him feel cared for, everything will be
fine. He got dreamy-eyed at the prospect of taking care of Tom, and
lost the thread of the conversation.

Suddenly he realized there was a lull in the conversation, and both
Tom and B'Elanna were staring at him. B'Elanna laughed, and said,
"Well, I won't make you take a quiz on what we've been talking about.
Come on, guys, duty calls."

And they headed for work.

In the turbolift, Tom said, "You know, this relationship does have one
drawback."

Puzzled, and a bit worried, Harry asked, "What's that?"

"Just that I'll never again be able to see you playing the clarinet
without getting a hard-on."

Harry was still howling with laughter when the turbolift delivered
them to the bridge.

Captain Janeway turned at the sound, and there was her Ops Officer,
crowing helplessly, while her Conning Officer watched him with a smug
smile.

"Do you have a joke you'd like to share with the rest of the bridge
crew, Mister Paris?"

She was astonished when Lieutenant Paris blushed like a convent
schoolgirl.

"No ma'am," Tom stammered. "It's - uh - not  really for mixed
company."

"Very well, then." Janeway tried to look stern. "You may take your
posts."

The two officers slunk to their duty stations.

"Now then," she turned to Neelix, who was seated beside her. "What can
you tell us about these Tilendi, Mister Neelix?"

"Wonderful people, Captain," Neelix said. "Simply wonderful. They're
great traders, so you should find everything you need in their trading
centers. They're technologically advanced for this area, so I don't
think you need worry about this Directive of yours. Oh, and SO
hospitable! You won't be able to leave without a reception with the
governor, I can assure you of that. You humans may find the 14-course
banquet a bit tedious, though it's famous throughout this sector. Just
make sure everyone has taken a nice nap ahead of time, and everything
should be fine."

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged glances. A 14-course banquet! Sounded
like a day-long event!

"A nap," Janeway said thoughtfully. "Excellent suggestion, Mister
Neelix, but of course we haven't been invited yet."

"Oh, no need to worry about that. You can count on an invitation."

Chakotay said, "We should schedule some shore leave here, Captain, let
some more people than the trading party stretch their legs
planetside."

"Agreed."

Tom turned to Harry and smiled. Shore leave. Sounded good.

---

The sun was huge and red overhead, but in the shadows of the bazaar
the air was tolerable. A large contingent of Voyager's crew was spread
throughout the stalls, on a shopping frenzy.

B'Elanna was finally rebelling against Star Fleet decor, and was
searching for wall hangings, while Harry examined Tilendi musical
instruments. Tom was strolling aimlessly, hands in his pockets, glad
to be in civvies for a change. He was just sightseeing, enjoying the
smell of alien spices, and B'Elanna grabbed him by the arm and pulled
him into a stall.

She held out two woven wall hangings. "What do you think?" she
demanded, "the red or this blue and green?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "As if you'd actually make a decision based on MY
opinion! Give me a break, B'Elanna, which one do you like best?"

"Well, I like the blue and green best," she admitted, "but the red
would go better with the stuff that's already there."

"Aha!" Tom nodded wisely. "Then obviously, get the blue  and green.
Then you've got a lot more shopping to do, to get stuff that goes with
IT."

B'Elanna stared at him for a moment. "Tom, have I ever told you you're
a genius?" Not waiting for a reply, she hurried over to the stall
owner to buy the blue and green wall hanging.

Tom strolled back outside. He saw Harry over by the musical instrument
stall, demonstrating Tilendi pipes to Samantha Wildman and her little
girl. Tom smiled - he hadn't made faces at little Spike for a while.
But as he started to head across the road, B'Elanna came up beside
him, and said, "Don't they make a cute couple?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Harry and Sammy!" Tom turned to her in surprise, and she  added
scrupulously, "Oh, of course, I don't KNOW anything. I'm merely
speculating. What-iffing. You know. I just think they look cute
together."

"Oh." Tom turned back to look at the two ensigns laughing with the
baby, and said thoughtfully, "They really do."

'Don't start getting broody and weird, Paris,' Tom told himself, as he
crossed the lane to the musical stall. Harry turned and smiled at him,
and the smile made his knees weak.

It wasn't, he told himself, as if there were actually anything between
Harry and Sammy. Not yet.

Harry said, "Check this out, Tom, I bought these pipes. A whole row of
them - kind of kinky, don't you think?"

"Trying to make your clarinet jealous?"

Trailing behind Tom, B'Elanna thought there were some kind of double
entendres going on, but she couldn't figure them out.

---

Back aboard Voyager, the young officers headed back to their quarters
to stow their purchases. Harry and Tom had just left B'Elanna at her
quarters, when she called them back. "Hey, guys, come see this!" she
exclaimed. She seemed rather angry, Tom thought.

"What is it, B'Ela?"

"This memo!" she said, pointing at her computer screen. "Can you
believe it? We've all been ORDERED to take a nap!"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Harry went over to read the memo,
and Tom read over his shoulder.

"Like we're in pre-school or something," B'Elanna groused.

"Well, it does say that it's going to be a seven-hour banquet
tonight," Tom said, "and that yawning in public is considered
unforgivably rude."

B'Elanna was not mollified. "I had some stuff I wanted to get finished
in Engineering."

Tom just grinned at her. "Captain's orders, B'Elanna - all officers on
the banquet list are to take naps this afternoon."

Harry had finished reading the memo. "Yeah, and look on the bright
side. We can't yawn, but belching and farting are perfectly
acceptable."

"Really?" Tom asked. "Let me see." He turned back to the computer
screen.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, get out of here, you adolescents! I've
got a nap to take."

---

Harry entered his quarters and dutifully went to bed. It really felt
weird, going to bed in the middle of the afternoon. And on Captain's
orders, no less!

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Tom crept in. He shed his
robe, and slipped into bed with Harry. Harry turned over and chuckled.
"Hey, Tom, we're supposed to be sleeping."

"I'll sleep," Tom said innocently. "Just wanted to sleep with YOU."

Harry pulled Tom into his arms, and said, "All right, then."

This did feel good. Tom snuggled his face into Harry's neck, and Harry
stroked his hair. He murmured, "Hey, remind me - on the way back from
the banquet, I want to go by the shuttlebay and swipe a regenerator
from the away team kits."

Already half asleep, Tom nodded, and said drowsily, "Sure, love."

Now Harry was wide awake. Love. He wanted to sing. Love! He wanted to
get up and dance around the room!

He'd finally figured it out. THAT was the inhibition the virus had
eliminated! Not anything to do with sex at all. But the ability to
feel and express love. He reviewed his memory of the virus, a pleasant
occupation, with Tom asleep in his arms, and realized that Tom had not
been in any kind of sexual frenzy at all.

Would a man in a sexual frenzy have asked PERMISSION to fuck Harry,
would he have asked Harry, "Are you sure you want to do this?"  Harry
remembered Tom kissing his thighs, asking softly, "Do you like this?"
And remembered how Tom had gasped, "Harry - my dear love - " And Tom
in Sickbay, calling him "Harry love".

Harry tightened his arms around his lover, sure that everything would
be fine now. Because Tom loved him, and he loved Tom.

---

In the transporter room, Lieutenants Tuvok, Torres, and Nicoletti were
waiting with varying degrees of patience, as Harry and Tom entered.

Harry was saying, "I still think a fart should be worth TWO points."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Hey, why don't we set up a sliding scale based
on volume, can't have it too simple, now can we?" As they moved to the
transporter pads, he turned to B'Elanna. "How about it, B'Ela? Want in
on the pool? Most farts and belches wins the pot."

B'Elanna stared at him for a moment, and then turned to Sue Nicoletti.
"Tell me something. Do human males EVER grow up?"

Sue sighed. "Sadly, no."

Lieutenant Tuvok quelled them all with a glance, and told the
transporter chief, "Energize."

Their party materialized in the central hall of the governor's
mansion, where others from Voyager were waiting for them. It was a
large group, and they arrived for the 14-course banquet with mingled
anticipation and dread.

Chakotay did a nose count, and then told the major-domo that their
party had all arrived. This starchy gentleman nodded, and preceded
them up the great central staircase leading to the banquet hall.

The Voyager party looked around them with interest. The setting was
certainly gaudy enough - the walls were panelled in copper, and
adorned with hangings of embossed and painted leather. The Tilendi
themselves were quite human-looking humanoids, with the corrugated
foreheads that seemed so prevalent in this quadrant. Harry couldn't
help wondering if they dyed their hair, as three colors seemed to
predominate, a flaming orange-red, a deep purple, and a few in basic
shining black.


At the head of the stairs, the upper hall was crowded with Tilendi,
all dressed in brightly colored robes, and jeweled chests filled with
more robes stood open. The major-domo, with a flourishing bow, invited
the Voyager crew to select robes that suited them.

Everyone dived in.

Pulling out a gold cloak, Tom said, "Here you go, Harry."

Harry made a face. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on," Tom whispered persuasively. "You'll  look like a young
Rajah. You'll drive me quite mad with desire."

Harry laughed. "Well, in that case. . ." He took the robe from Tom and
shrugged into it. Then he added with a grin, "But you've got the wrong
ethnic group, Tom. Rajahs are Indian, not Korean."

"Oh? Well, shit. Blows that birthday present idea all to hell. I was
going to get you one of those gold turbans, with a big old
eye-of-the-idol ruby right in the middle."

"The ideal accessory for a casual evening at Sandrine's," Harry said.
"I think you've been watching too many of those old movies."

Tom turned Harry to face him, fussing with the hang of the robe,
trying to get the broad lapels to lie down properly. Harry did look
barbarically splendid in the gold, he thought fondly, when he noticed
over Harry's shoulder a Tilendi woman in red looking at Harry's back
with narrowed, angry eyes. Then she pulled some kind of implement from
her wide sleeve.

Tom grabbed Harry by the shoulders and swung him around. He reached
out  to push Harry down, intending to push them both behind the chest,
but he was too late.

Harry had no idea what was going on. For some reason, Tom had grabbed
him, and moved them one-eighty around, and then some sort of weapons
fire lanced across the crowded hall, and people were screaming and
diving for cover. Tom's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders for just
an instant before loosening completely, and his eyes shaded from
astonished to blank, as he slipped from Harry's arms to the floor.

A large pool of blood quickly formed beneath him, and Harry stood in
shock, unable to move.

The ceremonial guards had seized the woman as soon as the weapon was
fired, and she struggled for a moment in their grasp before realizing
the futility of further resistance.

Captain Janeway was the first to move. In an instant, she was on her
knees beside Tom, taking his hand as she keyed her communicator.
"Janeway to Voyager! Medical emergency! Two to beam directly to
Sickbay."

An instant later, she and Tom sparkled briefly and were gone, leaving
behind only the blood, seeping further out into the carpet. Harry
raised his head, still unable to process what had happened.

The woman in red looked at him and screamed.

"You're not! You're not him!"

Oh, merciless heaven! The woman had just shot Tom, aiming for Harry -
by MISTAKE?

Harry keyed his communicator with a shaking hand, and managed to say,
"Kim to Voyager. One to beam up."


Harry charged out of the turbolift, wondering for a moment why he
hadn't thought to have himself beamed directly to Sickbay. Maybe he
just had to run.

As he stormed into Sickbay, he saw that Tom was already in the
surgical bay, and the surgical bed's wings were up, shielding Tom from
his view.


The Doctor was working intently on his patient, and didn't look up,
but said impatiently, "No prognosis, we'll be in surgery for hours,
I've no time to be tactful, so stay out of my hair."

He looked over to the corner, where Kes was programming a piece of
medical equipment. "How are you coming with the tissue replicator,
Kes?"

"Just about got - there - Lieutenant Paris' DNA coding has been
downloaded." As she spoke, Kes wheeled the surgical tissue replicator
over to be closer to the Doctor.

"Start with liver tissue," the Doctor said, and reeled off a great
deal of technical specifications that Harry didn't understand.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, staring into the surgical bay. Both
the Doctor and Kes were in red surgical scrubs, and they were both
wearing surgical masks, even though the Doctor certainly had no need
of one. But it was a good thought of the programmers. Masked, the
Doctor exuded an air of intense industry, discouraging one from
interrupting such a critically busy man.

Harry always had a bad reaction to the sight of surgical scrubs. He'd
even made a neurotic fool of himself in the Academy over a simple
wisdom tooth extraction. But the sight caused him to flash back to the
time in his childhood when he'd accompanied his parents on a medical
rescue mission, and now he was shivering uncontrollably, remembering
the many fatalities, and the horrific maiming of the survivors.

"Harry!"

He turned at the urgent whisper, and saw that the Captain was in the
Doctor's office, watching the situation from the curved window there.
He pulled himself together and went to join her.

Janeway clutched his hand and drew him to a chair. "Tom was dead on
arrival," she said softly, "but the Doctor got his heart started
again, and there is some brain activity. I suppose all we can do is
wait."

Harry gulped and nodded. He wished he could just bawl, but this was
too horrifying, too frightening to be alleviated by tears. He and the
Captain sat in worried silence, broken by an occasional comment.

After about half an hour, Lieutenant Tuvok entered Sickbay. Seeing the
Captain in the office, he joined her. "The Tilendi governor extends
his most abject apologies, Captain," he told her. "It appears that,
while hospitable, the Tilendi are also prone to personal and family
vendettas. Unfortunately, from the back Ensign Kim was mistaken for a
man responsible for causing the perpetrator's husband to lose out on
an important job at the governor's court."

Harry stared at Tuvok in astonishment. This was about a JOB, losing
out on a JOB?!

Tuvok continued, "The governor has expressed his willingness to turn
the accused over to you for Federation administration of justice, if
you wish. Or, alternatively, you may allow his court to handle it."

Janeway nodded wearily, trying to imagine a situation where she would
turn one of her people, however guilty, over to an alien justice
system without knowing more about it. "I think we should let them
handle it, Tuvok."

Tuvok nodded. "That's what I thought you would say. I will inform the
governor of your decision." And he departed.

After Tuvok had gone, Harry noticed that he was still wearing the gold
'young Rajah' robe, the one that was supposed to drive Tom quite mad
with desire. He removed it, and slung it over the back of the chair.

Then he slumped down into the chair, and leaned back. Finally the
tears began to slide down his face.

---

The waiting seemed interminable. Harry and the Captain dozed
occasionally, and exchanged stories about Tom. It was like a wake,
Harry thought uneasily, and he got up and began to pace the office.
Looking out the window into the surgical bay, he whispered, "And I
just love him - so much - "

Janeway looked up sharply. This was news to her. Oh, poor Harry, then
it was much worse for him than she had realized. She joined him at the
window and put her arm around him.

And the waiting continued.

---

The Doctor was right. He was in surgery for hours, five hours and
forty seven minutes to be precise.

Finally, he was finished. He turned from the biobed, gave Kes a few
sotto voce post-op instructions, and unfastened his surgical mask.

Just as his designers had programmed in to the EMHP an unnecessary
surgical mask for major surgery, their attention to detail also
included various methods for mask removal. Right now the situation
called for the Doctor to unfasten the top tie slowly, and let the
masktrail down his chest. Turning from the surgical bed, he headed for
the office, letting his shoulders slump, just a fraction less
pronounced than the we-lost-him slump.

"Well?" Janeway demanded as the Doctor entered the office.

"He's alive," the Doctor said flatly - the tone said, just barely.

"Prognosis?" she continued.

"Poor." The Doctor rounded his desk and sat down heavily, all part of
his non verbal communication algorithm. "Very poor," he added.
"Extraordinarily poor."

"You're saying he's not going to make it?" Harry  asked, almost
breathless with anxiety. It felt like a mailed fist was squeezing his
heart. This was a nightmare. Once you got the wounded to Sickbay, that
was supposed to fix things, in Harry's experience. But then he
remembered the rescue mission of his childhood, the wounded that no
treatment could save, and he sat down quickly before his knees gave
out.

"I'm saying that the odds of his survival are extraordinarily poor,"
the Doctor said.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, telling himself, okay, now
don't panic. And don't shriek at the Doctor. In his most controlled
voice, he said, "All right. Well, what exactly is still wrong with
him?"

"The brain activity - what little there is of it - it's just too
faint. And it's been too faint for too long. According to my
databases, that's a bad sign."

The Captain's voice was like a bucket of ice water. "Explain that,
Doctor."

"I'll try," he said. "But there are conflicts within my program. You
must understand that my experience is based upon the memory engrams of
fifty doctors, and they don't always agree. Sometimes I judge by which
doctor had the greatest expertise, and sometimes, well, majority
rules."

He thought for a minute and continued. "Mister Paris was dead when he
was beamed here. I did get his heart restarted, and there was brain
activity. There still is. But it's very faint, almost nonexistent.
It's as if he's just - too far away."

"Too far away," the Captain repeated.

"Exactly." The Doctor called up the brain activity screen on his
computer, and swivelled the computer screen to face her. The variance
from flatline was almost indiscernable.
indiscernible was massive organ and tissue damage," the Doctor went on,
"and the reconstruction took hours, while his brain remained at that
low ebb. Maybe too long. I don't know." There was a long pause, as the
fifty doctors seemed to quarrel within him. Finally he said, almost
apologetically, "There really are no hard and fast rules, you know.
People who should die survive. People die unexpectedly. But according
to all my data, recovery from this low level of brain activity is
extraordinarily rare."

Janeway the scientist sought quantitative data. "This level of brain
activity. But people have survived from this level before?"

"Yes. A few."

"But - ?"

"But those that survived - " There was another long pause, as the
Doctor sorted through his data, and the non-linear opinions of his
programmers. "Those that survived apparently had a very strong will to
live," he said at last. Part of him couldn't believe how unscientific
he was being.

"Are you saying that Lieutenant Paris doesn't?"

"I just don't know whether he does or not. Considering what I know of
his life history and his outlook on life, I would suspect not."

"But - why?"

Was frustration a part of the Doctor's program? He cried out, "I don't
know! We hadn't gotten that far! You cut my hours, I could only see
him once a week, we had just barely begun, and I don't KNOW!"

Harry had been silently following the conversation. But this was too
much. "Wait a minute. You're saying Tom WANTS to die? No. That's not
true. It can't be." He sounded stunned.

"Oh, no, Mister Kim. I'm not saying that at all. But whether or not he
has the necessary will to LIVE, well, that's another matter entirely."

Harry sat down slowly. He remembered thinking - I love him and he
loves me, and now everything will be all right.

Was it too late?

A long silence fell in the office. The Doctor had rocked back in his
chair and placed his fingers to his forehead. Now he lowered his
hands, and turned an angry glare on the Captain. "And by the way,
Captain. I wouldn't have thought that I would have to remind you, but
Star Fleet regulations require - not recommend, but REQUIRE - that
every incident of sexual assault be reported to the Medical
Department."

Janeway stared at him in blank astonishment. "Doctor, what are you
talking about?"

"You mean, you weren't informed either? Very peculiar. Because it was
medically evident that Lieutenant Paris suffered at least one violent
sexual assault within the last few days."

Harry wearily raised his hand. "Well, no, Doc. Not really." He almost
quailed under the combined stares of the Captain and the Doctor, but
continued resolutely. "Tom had gotten into - a rather - uh - unsavory
relationship with some of the guys belowdecks. Violbelow decks but it
wasn't involuntary."

Seeing that they continued to stare at him in disbelief, he cried out,
"Hey, I just found out about it! He promised he would stop! Everything
was going to be fine!"

And then he dropped his head into his hands and began to weep quietly.

The Doctor absorbed this new information. "Perhaps - not surprising,"
he said at last.

Silence fell. And lasted for a long time. Was it hopeless?

Then Harry raised his head, saying "Hey?"

Janeway and the Doctor looked at him receptively.

"Maybe Tuvok knows!" Harry said.

"Knows what?" the Doctor asked.

"The stuff you say you don't know. Tom's will to live, all that,"
Harry explained.

Janeway was puzzled. "Tuvok?!"

"Don't you remember? When Tom was convicted of murder by the Baneans,
and had those false memories implanted, and Tuvok did that mind meld,
so he was actually IN Tom's mind, so maybe he would know. And  if we
knew, maybe we could - oh, I don't know - do something about it."

But, once summoned, Lieutenant Tuvok claimed ignorance. "I am sorry,
Captain, but I regretfully am unaware of the extent of Mister Paris'
survival instincts."

Janeway was disappointed. "Oh, but surely, Tuvok - you were right
there, in his mind."

"There are many degrees of mind meld," Tuvok told her. He clasped his
hands behind his back and prepared to instruct. "When you and I
melded, we were searching for what we believed to be a suppressed
memory, which might have been anywhere in my memory. Consequently, our
search was wide-ranging, and you experienced many facets of my mind
and memories. However, in the case of the Banean murder charge, I had
one specific goal in mind, to view the implanted Banean memories. I
took no side-excursions, and did no exploring. A Vulcan would consider
that dishonorable. If there had been a concern, trauma, or neurosis in
the forefront of Mister Paris' mind at the time of the meld, I could
not have failed to notice it. Any other such trauma would have escaped
me entirely. As for basic attitudes, that was quite beyond the purpose
of the meld."

Another dead end. Another depressed silence. Again, it was Harry who
spoke first. "But, hey, Tuvok - this mind meld. Could you do it with
Tom now?"

Tuvok arched a brow. "And ask him if he has a sufficient desire to
live?"

"And tell him to come back!" Harry exclaimed. "That we  want him to
come back! PLEASE, Tuvok!"

Tuvok turned to Janeway. "Captain?"

"It's up to you, Mister Tuvok. Do you think it's safe?"

He nodded gravely. "I think I could perform such a meld with minimal
danger to myself."

Ignored too long, the Doctor said, "Well, don't bother asking for my
opinion, because you already know it! Risky, unwise - but what do I
know, I'm just the most sophisticated piece of software on this ship,
with the combined experience of fifty doctors, so what's the point in
asking for my opinion, anyway?"

---

Tuvok took a deep breath and looked around, feeling the sun's heat
reflected from the red rock wall behind him.

He recognized this place, of course. He'd been here before, when he
had bid a final farewell to his grandmother. The Doctor's predictable
protests aside, Tuvok saw no reason to be concerned for his own
safety. Many Vulcans came to the valley before their final visit.

He walked down the dusty path, smelling the spicy scent of the small
stunted trees that lived on such moisture as the valley provided.
Eventually, he came to the stream. It was a poor thing, trickling
across the rocks, taking its color from them, running a rusty orange.

On the other side of the stream, Lieutenant Paris was seated beneath a
tree, lost in thought.

The lieutenant looked up. "Tuvok!"

"Mister Paris." Tuvok nodded gravely. He thought that he had never
seen the young human looked so centered, so confident.

Paris grinned at him. "Come to see me off?"

"I have come to see you," Tuvok said, without inflection.

"Well, I'm glad you did." Paris stood and approached the stream. He
was serious now. "Please. Tell them to turn off the life support."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Disconnect the life support?"

"Well, yeah. It's just time to move on, don't you think?" The young
lieutenant sounded remarkably at ease with the idea, something Tuvok
thought unusual for a human.

"Why now?" he asked curiously. "Why is now the time?"

"Now's the perfect time!" Tom said earnestly. "I don't expect to get
another chance at such a classy exit."

Tuvok arched a brow. " 'Classy exit'. I'm afraid you're going to have
to explain that."

"Well, think about it. From now on, when people talk about Tom Paris,
they'll remember that he died saving his friend. I'm not saying that
they'll actually forget about the accident, or the treason trial. But
it will sort of balance things out, don't you think?"

Tuvok frowned. "Perhaps," he admitted. "And yet, I was  sent to ask
you to return."

"Sent - by whom?"

"The Captain. And Ensign Kim." He watched the lieutenant's face
carefully, and saw the shadow pass over his features.

Tom sighed. "You can see it, can't you?"

"Your love for him?" Tuvok nodded gravely. "Yes. That cannot be hidden
here."

"Please, Tuvok. Don't tell him."

"Not tell him? May I ask why not?"

"Because it would only hurt him now, and make it harder for him to get
over this. I know that I love him, and that's enough for me. He's
only, what, twenty-three? If he remembers me as his best friend, the
man who would give his life for him, well, I just think it would be
easier for him. He wouldn't have to be responsible - you probably
don't realize what a burden it is when someone loves you, and you . .
. " Tom stopped and looked away. "I just wish you wouldn't tell him,
okay?"

"Very well. And you will not return?"

Tom sighed, but not sadly. "Tuvok, I really don't think I can."


---

"Don't hover about the surgical bay!" the Doctor had said. And so the
Captain and Ensign Kim were hovering in the Doctor's office, watching
through the window. And the Doctor was hovering with them.

Finally, Tuvok removed his hands from Tom's face, and sat back in the
chair and opened his eyes. The watchers hurried out to him.

"Well?" the Captain demanded.

"Well," Tuvok replied. "Lieutenant Paris believes it to be time to
move on. He expressed gratitude at the opportunity to make what he
referred to as a 'classy exit'."

"A classy exit?!" Harry exclaimed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that he felt that a good death would perhaps compensate for a
bad life. That people would remember that he died saving his best
friend's life."

There was a long silence.

Finally, Harry said, "Bullshit!"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate, Ensign?"

"I'm saying it's bullshit!" Harry said again. "'Nothing in life so
became him as the leaving of it'? Tale of Two Cities Sidney Carton
crap - 'tis a far, far better thing I do - ' Well, I'm not buying it,
that's not good enough! Not for me!"

"So what do you propose to do about it?" the Doctor asked softly.

"If I could just talk to him - " Harry frowned and thought about it.
"Tuvok, could you show me how to do that mind meld business?"

"No," Tuvok said, unequivocally. "I know of only one human in history
who was capable of it, and she was strongly telepathic, with the
highest psy-scores ever recorded for a human."

The Doctor quickly reviewed his database, and added, "And you psy-
scores are little better than average, Mister Kim."

Another silence fell. Then Harry said, "Well, Tuvok - could you mind
meld with me and Tom at the same time?"

"A three-way meld?" the Doctor said. "The risk increases
exponentially, and surely the rarity of such a procedure - "

But Tuvok interrupted him. "It is actually a fairly common procedure
on Vulcan, Doctor. In special circumstances."

"Well, this is a special circumstance!" Harry said eagerly. "Please,
Tuvok! If anyone can bring him back, it's me. And - I just can't let
him go without telling him . . . without talking to him again."

The Doctor threw up his hands. "Well, I'm going to go register my
objections in the medical log, since I'm sure no one here wants to
hear it."

But Kes and the Captain helped Tuvok and Harry move another biobed
into the surgical bay, and soon Harry was lying on a bed beside Tom's,
and Tuvok sat between them.

Several minutes later, the Doctor emerged from his office, looking
like a thundercloud. "Captain, I've reviewed the Vulcan cultural
files, and identified the special circumstances Mister Tuvok was
referring to, and I must state that this is a wholly inappropriate - "

But the Captain raised her hand and shushed him. "Not now, Doctor -
they're already in the meld."

"Well, let me know when they're out of the meld," the Doctor snapped,
"because I have a few words I'd like to say to him."

---

As they walked down the path, Lieutenant Tuvok said, "I must caution
you, Ensign, to remain well behind me."

Harry nodded, looking around. And while Tuvok still saw the stark
beauty of a Vulcan valley, Harry was in the Shenandoah, in the fall.

And Tom was on the opposite side of the stream.

Harry's face lit up to see him. Tom was just so strong and healthy
here, so beautiful.

Tom looked up in surprise. "Harry!"

Harry smiled. "Hi, Tom."

"Oh, god, it's good to see you," Tom admitted, and the yearning in his
face could not be concealed.

"Well, come on back, and you can see me every day," Harry suggested.

Tom shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's just - hard to explain.
But thing's are better this way, I really believe that."

"Well, I don't!" Harry said firmly.

And before Tuvok could react, Harry had pushed past the Vulcan headed
toward the stream.

"Ensign Kim! Do not - "

But it was too late. Harry leaped the tiny stream and took Tom's hand.

Tom gripped Harry's hand and smiled into the young man's eyes,  and
then looked across the stream in surprise. "Hey, where did Tuvok go?"

Harry looked back. The path behind him was empty. "I don't know," he
said, puzzled.

Then he turned back to Tom. "Look, Tom. What I really came to tell you
is that if you don't want to go back, or can't go back, if it just
hurts too much well, it's okay."

---

The observers in Sickbay were surprised when, only a few minutes into
the mind meld, Lieutenant Tuvok's head snapped back and his eyes
jerked open. As they hurried toward him, he slowly and with visible
reluctance removed his hands from the faces of the two young men.

Kes called urgently, "Doctor, Ensign Kim!"

As the Doctor hurried to the biobed, Tuvok said, "Doctor, do not touch
him. He is still in the meld."

Janeway said, "But - you're not? How is that possible?"

And then she noted the brain activity being recorded above Ensign
Kim's biobed. Very faint. Almost nonexistent.

"Ensign Kim - disobeyed instructions," Tuvok said. He was breathing
heavily, obviously exhausted. "And he - went too far."

Janeway muttered under her breath, "Oh, shit." In a more normal tone,
she asked her Security Officer, "Can he return?"

"Not alone," Tuvok admitted.

"What - ?"

"Either both of them will return, or both of them will die."

The Doctor turned to Tuvok, and tried to control his voice. "If you
were a doctor, I'd haul you up on charges," he said.

Tuvok arched an eyebrow, untroubled. "Vulcans believe in allowing
people to make their own decisions, Doctor."

---

Tom took Harry's hand and the two men sat down beneath the tree.
"That's a relief - to hear you say that, Harry," Tom said finally.

"I mean it, Tom. It's really okay."

Tom smiled at him. "I know you mean it. You can't hide that here."

"But - why, Tom? Why won't you come back?"

"Well - " Tom thought about it for a moment. "If I went back, I'd be
going back onto the tightrope."

"Huh?"

"You know - well, I guess maybe you don't. I mean, always wondering
when I was going to screw up again."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say. He'd been raised with the belief
that he was allowed to make mistakes, but knew that Tom's upbringing
had been different. And that Tom's mistakes had been whoppers.

"But really," Tom went on. "This is good, this is better than I could
have expected. Not a disease, or some silly accident, but a death that
means something, that people will remember - that I can say
accomplished something of value."

Harry felt a tear trickle down his nose, and wiped it off, not taking
his eyes from Tom.

"And I'll know that you can go on, and have a long, good life, and a
family, and I'll have left a real legacy."

Harry shook his head. "Well, no, Tom. It's not going to work that
way."

"Why not?" Tom was puzzled.

"Because wherever you're going, I'm going with you," Harry said
positively.

---

In Sickbay, the vigil continued. It was now long past midnight, and
the ship was deathly quiet. Captain Janeway was well on her way to
using a month's worth of replicator rations, all on coffee. The Doctor
and Tuvok remained with her, and Kes left for a while, returned with
some sandwiches from the galley.

The Doctor had never had much prolonged exposure to Lieutenant Tuvok,
and was wondering about his instinctive wish to take the Vulcan down a
peg or two. It must come from somewhere in his program, he thought.

The Emergency Medical Holographic Program was not composed entirely of
written code, much of his memory was supplied by memory engrams from
the fifty doctors whose experiences made up the core of his expertise.
Some of the personality traits the Doctor exhibited were deliberately
implanted by the programmers, but some had slipped in by way of the
memory engrams.

The irascible personality had been a deliberate construct by the
programmers. Since the program was designed to be used in emergencies,
the programmers felt that a brisk and brusque persona would ensure
that the Doctor's instructions would be carried out rapidly and
without time- wasting discussion. Since his activation aboard Voyager,
he had been endeavoring to develop a manner more suited for a general
practitioner, and thought that his efforts had been fairly successful.

But now, the Doctor was surprised to find himself becoming annoyed at
Tuvok's calm, unruffled manner, and even more surprised to find
himself thinking, "Damn Vulcans." And beyond surprise when his
instructions to Kes began to take on a tinge of accent usually
associated with the southeastern sector of the North American
continent.

"I just don't understand it," the Captain said. "How can two non
telepathic humans maintain a telepathic link without assistance from a
telepath?"

"Perhaps not entirely surprising," the Doctor told her. "There does
seem to be evidence that humans near death experience a strong
increase in psy-powers. There are recorded instances of humans
appearing to loved ones hundreds of miles or lightyears away at the
time of their demise." He frowned for a moment, and added, "But I'm
afraid that my database includes no such examples from humans  who
actually survived a near-death experience."

"Actually, Doctor, I am not entirely pessimistic," Tuvok said calmly.
"Earlier, our concern was for the extent of Lieutenant Paris' will to
live. However, I think there can be no doubt that he does possess an
extremely strong will for Ensign Kim to live. If it is at all possible
for them to return, I believe that they will do so."

"If it's at all possible," the Doctor grumbled, and silence fell
again.

---

Tom was dismayed by Harry's determination to go with him.  "Harry,
no!"

"Yes, I am."

"But - you're so young!"

"So are you."

"You can have a GOOD life!"

"So can you."

Tom dropped his eyes. At last he said, "I wish I could believe that."

For a long time, the two young men sat under the tree, holding hands.

"Please, Harry. Go back. If you don't, this will be for nothing."

Harry laughed. He was utterly undisturbed. "Oh, I don't know," he
said. "You die for me, then I die for you - we can be the Delta
Quadrant's Romeo and Juliet."

Tom couldn't help chuckling at that. "But none of the folks around
here would have the class to appreciate it."

"Their loss," Harry said with a shrug.

Another long pause. Tom was thinking deeply. Suddenly, he raised his
head, and said in surprise, "This isn't the first time you've made
this decision, is it?"

"Huh?"

"The Akritirian prison - "

"Oh. That." Harry asked curiously, "Tom, do you remember much about
that?"

"I remember some," Tom said. "But I was delirious, some  of what I
remember were hallucinations. Do you know - I thought Megan Delaney
came into our hut and did an exotic dance? And then stole all our
food?"

Harry laughed out loud. "So that's where the food went!" Then his face
clouded. "But, do you remember me hitting you?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah. I do. But remember, I was delirious. I thought,
'This lunatic looks just like Harry!'"

Harry bit his lip. "Maybe that's what I was then, a lunatic who looked
just like Harry."

"But you ran out of the hut, and then came back a few minutes later,
and everything had changed."

"Yeah." Harry took a deep breath, remembering Zio tempting him with
the knife - how much easier everything would be if Tom were dead.

"And you know what? I thought that you'd managed to contact Voyager. I
was real surprised to read the report later and see that you'd never
been in contact with the ship at all."

"You thought I'd contacted the ship? Why?"

"Because you were so - confident. So sure of yourself. And what you
said. 'Hang on, Tom, just a little while longer.'"

Harry nodded. He remembered. And he also remembered how calm he'd
been then. All decisions made, all bridges burned. Because Zio had
kicked  him out, since he wouldn't kill his friend, and despite
Harry's defiant claim, 'I don't need your protection', he ad known
very well that without Zio's protection, they were both going to die.

Tom couldn't even stand then, much less walk, and Harry had dragged
him out on a blanket, and Zio just stood in silence and allowed Harry
the blanket, surely knowing he would retrieve it soon enough.

Tom said musingly, "And then, out in the central chamber, you knelt
down by me when that crowd was closing in, and said, 'It's almost
over.'"

Harry squeezed Tom's hand. "So you thought Voyager was on the way?"

"Yeah. But that's not what you meant at all, was it?"

"No."

Tom lifted Harry's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "'This man
is my friend - '", he repeated softly. Then he looked up and smiled at
Harry. "Do you know? - that was the proudest moment of my life."

There was a long silence.

Finally, Harry asked, "So. Which way are we going?"

"Can't talk you into going back without me?"

"Actually, I don't think I can, Tom."

Tom sighed. "But - " he hesitated, and said, "What if I screw up
again?"

"So? You screw up again. Then you go on."

Tom stared at him in astonishment. "You sure make it sound easy."

"It IS easy, Tom. Well, maybe not, but it's not impossible. People are
allowed to screw up! Everyone screws up! What, you think the next time
you make a mistake, I'll walk out on you?" And then Harry realized
that was exactly what Tom thought. He put his arm around his friend.
"Well, I won't, Tom. Ever."

Another long silence. Then Harry said, "It's your decision, Tom. And
either way, really, it's all right."

The two young men looked thoughtfully down the tiny stream. "What do
you suppose is down there?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "We could go see. Or we could go back to
Voyager - because one thing's for sure, we'll know what's downstream
sooner or later."

"Why, you're a philosopher, Harry!"

"Just a realist. Anyway, whatever's down there, you suppose there's
sex?"

Tom laughed out loud. "You do know how to get to me, don't you,
buddy?"

"I try."

"Maybe we should go back. For a little while, anyway."

Harry held his breath. Almost. Almost there. "Sure, Tom. If that's
what you want."

They stood up. Turned, and looked back up the steep path that Harry
had travelled down with Tuvok.

Tom took a step forward, and then stopped. "Harry, I just - don't
think I can."

"Sure you can, Tom. Come on, we can go together." Harry took Tom's
hand. And Tom took another step.

---

The watchers continued holding vigil over the two biobeds, with the
readouts showing the brain activity very faint, almost nonexistent. It
was hard to do nothing, but Tuvok insisted that nothing could or
should be done, and the Doctor, after an exhaustive search of his
databases, reluctantly agreed that the Vulcan was probably right.

It was the Doctor who first noticed the minute change in the readings
for Ensign Kim. Suddenly alert, he went to the head of the bed, and
studied the monitor. The brain activity readout showed an increase, a
slight increase, in activity. The Doctor took out his medical
tricorder, and considered stimulants.

"It appears that Ensign Kim is coming out of it," he said, trying not
to raise his voice. "Or at least attempting to come out of it. Perhaps
if we could somehow terminate the meld, we could at least save one of
them."

"You will do no such thing, Doctor," Tuvok said, with impressive calm.
"You might restore the auTomatic lower brain functions, but if you
interfere with the meld and lose Lieutenant Paris, you would have a
survivor in a permanent vegetative state."

Which didn't sound like a desirable outcome, the Doctor had to agree.

Slowly, the readouts on Ensign Kim's biobed crept upward, and the
watchers almost held their breath.

And then Kes said urgently, "Doctor!" And turning, they saw that the
brain activity readouts for Lieutenant Paris were also on the rise.

"Is he going to make it?" Janeway muttered. "Can he bring Tom back
too?" She looked down and realized that she had crossed  her fingers
on both hands. The Captain uncrossed her fingers, thought about it,
and then crossed them again. Couldn't hurt.

And suddenly Tom gave a deep, gasping breath, and sat up, exclaiming,
"Harry!"

Faintly from the other bed, "Right here, Tom."

*right here*

Tom looked surprised, shook his head, and then laughed aloud.

"Why, so you are," he said.

*just so*

Harry sat up, and smiled over at Tom.

Kes and the Doctor bustled around the two men, taking readings, while
Tuvok looked from one man to the other, sensing the faint, almost
electric, tingle that told him that the link was unbroken. He raised
an eyebrow. It had always been a possibility, he supposed.

"All right," the Doctor said briskly, "Everybody out." Ensign Kim made
as if to slide off the biobed, and the Doctor pushed him back, saying
testily, "Not YOU!"

He turned to the Captain and Security Officer. "I will be keeping
Mister Paris and Mister Kim in Sickbay for observation. Any questions
you have for them can wait until morning."

Once, the Captain might have challenged the Doctor, but in the last
two years she had grown to trust his expertise - and his heart. "Come
on, Tuvok," she said softly.

Kes fussed around the biobeds, fetching and smoothing blankets. "Can I
get you anything," she asked Harry. "Juice? Something to help you
sleep?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, smiling at her. "Everything's fine now."

---

The next morning, when Kes entered Sickbay, she was alarmed for a
moment to see that the biobed where she'd left Ensign Kim was now
vacant. But a moment later, she relaxed and smiled, seeing that the
bed in the surgical bay had two occupants.

The two young men were wrapped in each other's arms, sleeping
peacefully, and Kes was relieved to see that they were still wearing
their blue medical gowns, so she wouldn't have to wake them and get
them to dress before the day's business began. She should have been
preparing the instrument trays for the morning sick call, but stood
rooted to the spot, simply enjoying the sight of two beautiful men
holding one another.

The swish of the doors made her turn, to see Tuvok entering. Kes
smiled at him. "They seem fine this morning," she said.

"So it appears," Tuvok said.

The faint sounds they were making reached Tom, who began to move and
stretch on the biobed. In a moment, Harry was waking too. He raised
his head and looked at Tom.

"Morning," Harry said.

"Back atcha."

Harry leaned down and gave Tom a light kiss on the lips, and then
looked up. "Oh, hi, Kes. Tuvok."

"Good morning," Kes told them with a sunny smile. "You  both seem none
the worse for wear."

Tom sat up with a groan. "Kind of hard to believe, isn't it? I could
have sworn I saw my guts coming out when that lady shot me."

"Nothing the surgical tissue replicator couldn't handle." This came
from the Doctor, who had joined the group so silently that no one had
noticed his approach or appearance.

He approached the biobed with his usual briskness, medical tricorder
in hand. Scanning his two patients, he hmmed and aha'd a few times,
more from habit than anything else. Then he snapped the tricorder
shut, and said, "Perfectly healthy. Physically, that is. How do you
feel?"

"Perfect," Tom said. *perfect, Harry*

"Never better," Harry added. *the best, Tom*

Tuvok took a step forward, and said, "Gentlemen, I am picking up
indications that the bond that I initiated is still in effect. Am I
correct?"

Tom scratched his ear, and admitted, "Sure seems like it." *or maybe
we're telepathic now. can you hear me, tuvok?*

*or me? can you hear me?*

Tuvok frowned thoughtfully. "I wondered what outcome of bonding two
humans would be. I can sense the bond, but cannot comprehend the
message. Can you understand one another?"

*perfectly*


"Yes, I guess we can," Harry said. "And I sort of feel something, like
Tom's with me now."

"That's right," Tom said. "Like I'm carrying  around a little bit of
Harry." *and he's perfect*

*love*

"It's - interesting, Tuvok," Harry said, with a rather breathless
laugh. "How long does this last?"

"Since the bond outlasted the meld, I would have to conclude that the
bond is permanent."

!

!

The Doctor gave a short bark of laughter. "Bonded?" he asked.
"According to Vulcan law, they're MARRIED!"

!!

!!

The Doctor had given up trying to track down the memory engram that
caused him to want to needle Tuvok. And here came that Southern accent
again, and the strange speech patterns. "Y'know, Tuvok, I'm gonna have
to start naggin' that lil gal down in Engineering to work harder on
the mobile holoemitter project."

Tuvok turned to the Doctor, eyebrow raised. "And why is that, Doctor?"

"Because someday, we're going to get back to the Alpha Quadrant.And
you're going to have to explain to the Vulcan High Council why you
bonded two human males. And when that day comes, I want to BE there!"

Tuvok looked back at the two human males, who were smiling at one
another, and said softly to the Doctor, "I don't think that either of
them will file a complaint, do you?"

The Doctor gestured with his head, and he and Tuvok went to the
Doctor's office. "Seriously, Tuvok, how can this have happened? I
mean, they're not telepathic, either of them."

Tuvok looked out the window and watched the two young humans, still
sitting on the bed and smiling into one another's eyes. "Speculation,
Doctor. As you pointed out, humans do have a latent psychic ability,
which is often stimulated by closeness to death. Both men were close
to death, and their emotional closeness is obvious. This could have
been what initiated the lifebond."

"Yes, but - they're not close to death now!"

"That is certainly true. But once the latent psychic power was
stimulated, and the bond initiated, I conclude that the psychic power
would remain active, at least to the extent necessary to maintain the
bond."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"This is all speculation, Doctor," Tuvok pointed out. "Remember, this
has never happened before."

"Don't I know it," the Doctor grumbled. "Another paper for me to write
on still another unique medical issue, and nowhere to submit it."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, the Doctor went on, "You know,
Tuvok, when I said I wanted to be there when you explain this to the
Vulcan High Council, I meant it. I want to tell them it is my opinion
as a physician and therapist that this is the best thing that could
have happened to Lieutenant Paris."

Tuvok nodded. "Why, thank you, Doctor. Should the occasion arise, I
will certainly avail myself of your testimony."

---

Captain Janeway sat in her chair on the bridge, pondering the
therapeutic aspects of Vulcan mind melding. Several months ago, she
had participated in a mind meld with Tuvok, and through him had
visited the old Starship Excelsior, eighty-five years into the past.

Since that time, she had noticed a slight change in her command style.
She seemed now to want to lead away teams, to be on the firing line,
no longer content to sit in her Ready Room and wait for the team
leader to report back. She rationalized this by telling herself that
she had a part- Maquis crew now, and the Maquis would not respect a
Captain that 'led from the rear'. And two years' absence from the
benign oversight of Star Fleet Command had lessened the influence of
the rather stuffy and bureaucratic style that permeated headquarters
these days. Still - she couldn't help wondering if that mind-trip to
the swashbuckling past might have something to do with it.

What brought the subject to her mind today was her two young officers.
Lieutenant Paris had reported for duty blazing like an archangel; it
almost hurt to look at him. And Ensign Kim was wearing the mysterious
smile of a secretive god.

She was so glad to have them both back.

From the tactical station, Lieutenant Tuvok raised his head. There it
was again, that slight flicker of awareness that told him that a bond
was present, being tested and enjoyed.

A father himself, Tuvok remembered living in a house with a newly
bonded young daughter, still thrilling in her new connection, and too
immature to shield her joy from her elders. Communication was taking
place on the bridge, an intimate communication between bondmates.

Tom was flying the ship, smiling at the stars, feeling Harry with him
and reveling in it, when the message appeared -

*hey, Tom. isn't this cool?*

*Of course, he responded -*

*you think it's cool now, just wait till we're fucking*

Interesting. Tuvok could not discern the content of the communication,
but did observe that, though no words had been spoken on the bridge,
Ensign Kim had suddenly blushed a rosy pink. He rather suspected that
he knew the subject being addressed.

Tuvok was faintly surprised at the indulgence in his mood, as he
thought humans!

---

The mess hall was crowded at dinner time, the word having gotten out
that the main course was actually fairly palatable this evening. Harry
and Tom entered the crowd with B'Elanna, received generous portions of
Neelix's Tuna Surprise Casserole, and looked for seats.

They found some empty seats at a table already occupied by the Captain
and Lieutenant Tuvok, and sat down to see what Neelix had come up with
to approximate tuna.

B'Elanna wanted to grill Tom on his near-death experience. "So, what
was it like?" she asked. "The ever-popular long tunnel with a bright
light at the end?"

Tom thought for a minute. "It was a river valley," he said finally,
"with a little stream that would eventually reach the sea. Something
like a stream running into the Columbia, I thought."

B'Elanna was surprised. "That specific?"

But Harry said, "The Columbia? I would have said the Shenandoah. Or
the Rapidan."

Tuvok offered, "To me, it appeared as the spring-fed waters that lead
to the Sehlat River."

B'Elanna's eyes were wide. "Ooh. You mean it looked  different to each
of you? That's rather bizarre."

"Since it was entirely a mental construct, why not?" Tuvok asked.

"Hey, Harry," Tom said, "pass me the coa grass, would you?"

Harry picked up the small bowl of the spicy grass, which Neelix dried
and chopped and used as a condiment. The humans used it in place of
pepper.  He passed the bowl over the table to Tom, and their fingers
touched.

The two men froze. Harry felt Tom's skin beneath his fingers - and
also felt what his fingers felt like to Tom's skin.

Slowly, Tom put down the bowl, and took Harry's hand. And he felt
Harry's hand in his, and his hand holding Harry's. Entranced, he
reached out with his other hand, and placed it on Harry's cheek.

And felt Harry's cheek beneath his fingers - and how his fingers felt
to Harry's cheek.

Not taking his eyes from Tom's, Harry slowly turned his head, and
kissed the palm of Tom's hand. Feeling both the palm against his lips,
and his lips on the palm.

The other occupants of the table were frozen in place, watching the
strangely moving scene. Gradually, silence descended on the crowded,
noisy mess hall, and people stopped in midsentence to turn and see
what their table mates were staring at.

Tom stood abruptly, and his chair upended behind him, as he gasped,
"Why don't we - "

And Harry was on his feet, too, saying only, "Right."

The two young men left the room in a hurry.

A buzz of comment arose at their departure, and Captain Janeway said,
"Well!"

B'Elanna loosened her collar with one finger and fanned herself with
her napkin, saying with a slight laugh, "Sure got hot in here for a
minute!"

The Captain said, "What a relief to hear you say that! I THOUGHT I was
too young to be having my first hot flash!"

Tuvok looked at the two women in mild surprise. "I detected no change
in the ambient air temperature."

Janeway smiled at him indulgently. "We were referring to the emotional
temperature, Tuvok."

"Ah." Tuvok nodded. "On Vulcan, it is a common occurrence that the
newly bonded have difficulty veiling their emotions."

"Oh, so this is old news to you, I guess," B'Elanna said.

"Not at all," Tuvok admitted, shifting uncomfortable in his chair.
"Children on Vulcan are bonded at a pre-pubescent stage. I confess
that the combination of a new bond and adult desires is - a rather
unsettling experience."

---

As they entered the turbolift, Harry said, "Deck Four," and teasily
brushed his hand against Tom's ass. And shivered from the feeling.

Tom laughed and retaliated, turning and zeroing in on Harry's crotch.
Both men gasped. Tom could feel it, could feel what Harry was feeling,
and he moved his hand slowly, feeling Harry's penis hardening beneath
his hand, and how his hand felt to Harry.

He had Harry pressed against the wall of the turbolift now, slowly
stroking and squeezing, watching Harry's eyes, enjoying Harry's
pleasure, feeling Harry's love.

Harry was almost too dizzy to stand now, moving gently against Tom,
feeling his own pleasure reflected back through Tom, watching the
brilliant blue eyes that were finally confident and secure, giving
love, receiving love -

"Hey!"

Megan Delaney was standing at the open door of the turbolift, as Tom
gasped and pulled himself back from his lover. Megan smiled at him.
"You taking this turbolift anywhere, or were you just planning on
feeling up Harry all evening?"

Tom managed to say, "Deck?"

Megan laughed. "You're on Deck Four. And your quarters are right down
that hall, in case you've forgotten."

The two men stumbled out of the turbolift, and Megan entered, almost
skipping. She thought it unlikely that either of them would be at
Sandrine's this evening, and that it looked like a great night for
gossip.

---

Harry and Tom walked down the hall, maintaining a yard's distance
between them.

Tom said, "You know, I don't think we ought to touch one another in
public for a while. Not until we've got this under control."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Before you know it, we'd be fucking in the hall."

They were at the door of Tom's quarters now, and Tom turned and pulled
Harry roughly into his arms. They did manage to stagger through the
doors before they fell to the floor.

Last night, they had fallen quickly to sleep, contented but exhausted
from their journey, and the extent of their connection had not quite
registered with them. now it was all they could think about, all they
could do.

They couldn't even let go long enough to undress, but lay tangled on
the floor, kissing one another and feeling both sides of the kiss,
stroking and caresssing between muffled laughs.

But the laughter died down, overwhelmed by desire, as they pressed
closer together, kissing and licking, moving and moaning, until they
came against one another still fully clothed on the floor.

Finally, they broke apart, panting, and Harry said, "think we should
hit the showers?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'm going to lick you clean, buddy."

Somehow they got to their feet and made it to the bedroom, their
clothing discarded carelessly behind them, and they were naked on the
bed, tasting and exploring.

Harry stroked Tom's side gently, feeling the smoothness of Tom's skin,
and also Tom's shivering responsiveness to his touch. he was pleased
to see that the doctor had cured, not just the horrific blast wounds,
but also the bruises from Tom's unfortunate sexual adventures, leaving
Tom's body perfectly whole, and perfectly beautiful.

Tom knew that Harry thought he was beautiful, and for the first time
felt an uncomplicated joy in the appearance that had made him a target
for so many for so long. his beauty pleased his Harry, and that was
good.

Their lips met gently, then more greedily, and neither man had to ask
the other what he wanted, because each already knew.

*you like this*

*yes*

*and this*

*oh, yes!*

Wordlessly, Tom pulled away from Harry, moving onto his stomach on the
bed, and Harry lay on his back, stroking Tom and gently nibbling and
licking his neck and shoulders. He found the oil, and slid an oily
finger into Tom's body, and knew what it felt like to Tom, and Tom's
desire left him breathless. he stroked his lover with his fingers, and
felt him move beneath him, wanting, loving, and the pleasure he felt
was almost more than he could bear.

And he knew just the right moment to push into Tom, and Tom pushed
back against him eagerly. It was too much, and he felt his sight go
dim as he almost passed out from the combined feeling - being inside
Tom, the warmth and tightness, and Tom's feeling of holding him
inside, being filled, tingling with pleasure.

Harry lay for a moment on Tom's back, adjusting to the combination of
feelings, and said faintly, "this is - going to take some getting used
to."

"You said it," Tom agreed. "We'll have to get lots of practice."

Harry laughed, and was moving now, in and out, the filling and
retreating only to fill again, and the tight hot pleasure surrounded
them both, going deeper and deeper, faster and faster until the vast
explosion of pleasure took them both, echoing from one to the other
and back again, seeming to last a blessed eternity.

They remained locked together, and let the peace steal over them,
together, as they belonged.

*harry?*

*yeah, tom?*

*this is for ever, isn't it?*

*for ever and ever*

*love*

*love*

---

"I loved you, so i drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my
will across the sky in stars to earn you freedom, the seven-pillared
worthy house, that your eyes might be shining for me when we came."

t. e. lawrence "to s.a."

---

The End