by Anagi
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Disclaimer: Paramount owns all the rights to the Star Trek universe and
yes, I'm being bad. However, I'm not making any money &
everyone will be returned. Implied m/m. Understand? Feedback appreciated.
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I want tomato soup, that isn't made by a replicator. With little
oyster crackers. And a grilled cheese sandwich, that's actually been
grilled, in butter. With the edges slightly burnt and the cheese melted
perfectly. I want to drink real scotch. Not synthohol, not bootlegged
fuel, but real one hundred fifty year old single malt scotch. The kind
that makes you warm when you smell it. So smooth that the burn of it going
down is sweet. I want to eat Neelix's cooking and like it. I want. . .
. . . to beat the Captain at pool, every time. I want to be at
Sandrine's, in Marseilles, when I do. I want to be held by a Sandrine
that isn't a holograph. One that smells like violets. One who loves me
regardless of the things I've done. Or am going to do. I want to tell
Ricki I'm sorry. I want to tell a lot of people I'm sorry, that I
was wrong. I want to tell others that I was right. I want Chakotay to hear
it and smile. I want. . .
. . . to break warp 10 again and be everywhere at once, without turning
into a lizard when I do. I want to fly Voyager home. I want to park her on
the steps of Starfleet Headquarters and shout that I did it. Thomas Eugene
Paris; murderer, liar, traitor, convict, brought her home. Me. I want my
father to see it and keel over in shock. I want him to look up at me and
know that I will not be beaten down by him any longer. I want my mother to
be alive to see it. I want. . .
. . . Kes to come back. I miss her ears. They reminded me of shells at the
beach. I want to look into those wide eyes and feel her serenity flow over
me. I want to argue with Neelix over her. I want to make Tuvok smile, for
one brief instant, to grant some small relief from the bond that pulls at
him. I want B'Elanna to crinkle her ridges and believe she's
beautiful, and recognize the truth of it in my eyes. I want Harry to
remain untouched by the blackness that surrounds us. Surrounds me.
I want. . .
. . . to sleep in tomorrow. And take the day off. Then maybe another. I
want to lie in bed and snuggle. And make love, fall asleep, and do it all
over when we wake up. I want a bigger bed. I want larger quarters. And
more hot water for my showers. I want. . .
. . . to fly. Eternally. I want to skim Voyager off of the nearest
planet's atmosphere and do barrel rolls until I'm sick. I want my
own shuttlecraft. One that would take me anywhere. I want to go on shore
leave and not get arrested, attacked, or abducted. I want to pretend
I've never seen the inside of a prison. I want to forget and I want
absolution. I want to remember. I want to be remembered. For the
good things, not the bad. I want things that I can't have. Ever.
I want. . .
"Tom?"
(I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me.)
I want. . .
"It's late, is everything all right?"
(Are you afraid? Me too.)
I want. . .
"Come back to bed."
(I owe you one.)
I want. . .
"Mmm, I love you."
(This man is my friend. Nobody touches him.)
I want for nothing.
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End
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