by Choirboy
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c. August 2000

Spoilers for the episodes "Coda" and "Parturition", as well as Twisted.

This is very mild, probably not even requiring a rating, but we'll give it a PG just to be on the safe side.

The more I read other people's slash, the more I find myself watching various scenes in Voyager and seeing deeper into the relationship between Tom and Harry. The idea for this story came to me when I saw how upset Harry was at the captain's apparent death, and how Tom was the only one to comfort him. I'll hopefully write more, depending on what other people say. . . Feedback please, to Hope you like it, Michael

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Harry stood in front of the assembled crew in the messhall. He still wasn't sure how he had come to be at the head of this gathering. He remembered Chakotay giving the eulogy, then inviting others to share their memories. This had somehow prompted his subconscious to get his legs moving, and he had stood and moved to face his crewmates.

"I know Captain Janeway wouldn't want us to be sitting around moping," he said. "She'd want us to be cheering each other up, remembering the good times. Like the away mission where we found all those bushes of over ripe fruit." He smiled at the memory. "I must have eaten half a kilo. My hands and mouth were all purple. The captain. . . " he paused, not sure he could continue. "The captain came over and sat next to me. Her mouth was all stained too. She put her arm around my shoulder and she said, 'Ensign, these are the times we have to remember.' It's. . . " His voice broke and he knew he couldn't continue. "Sorry," he muttered, and dived into the kitchen before he broke down and bawled like a baby.

He must have been in there for about five minutes, leaning his head against the coolness of the refrigerator door, struggling to regain his composure, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look into Tom's eyes, full of concern for him, and that pushed him over the edge. He fell into Tom's arms and sobbed as if his heart would break. Tom comforted him as best he could until the storm had passed. When Harry had calmed down, Tom took him by the hand and led him out of the back of the kitchen to the turbolift.

When they reached Harry's quarters, the younger man turned to face Tom. "Thanks'" he smiled. "I'll be okay now."

"Are you sure?" asked the pilot. "You still look pretty rough. Want me to come in?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I need to sort myself out. I'll call you if. . . "

Tom nodded in understanding. "Goodnight, Harry." He moved off, and Harry felt so lonely that he opened his mouth to call him back.

No, he said to himself, let the guy go.

He flopped down on the couch and examined his feelings. The captain's death had come as a crushing blow to the crew. Starfleet and Maquis alike, they all respected her, even if some of them didn't agree with her decision of three years ago to save the Okampa and strand Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. Although he knew and trusted Chakotay well, he wasn't at all convinced that the man could get the ship home.

And let's face it, he thought, Captain Janeway was the one who gave me the chance of Ops Officer on Voyager's maiden cruise.

Right back at the start of this long journey, when the ship had been twisted and pummelled by some kind of communication ring that altered the very structure of Voyager, the Captain had been there with an encouraging word for him. Those few words in the Jeffries tube, "Harry, you've been one of the high spots of this trip" were still etched on his heart.

What was he going to do without her?

---

Later that night, he tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. He slowly came to realise that Janeway was more than a captain. Out here among the stars, she was some kind of substitute mother. Not just for him. Many of the crew took comfort from her presence. Even his best friend Tom owed his fresh start on this ship to her. She gave him the chance to begin his life in Starfleet over again. However it turned out, he knew that Tom would always be grateful for that.

As if summoned, the doorchime rang discreetly. Harry got up and moved to answer it and there stood Tom, wearing short pyjamas and holding a bottle of wine. He smiled at Harry's dishevelled hair.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Harry shook his head ruefully.

Tom entered the room and proffered the wine. "Apparently, after we left, Chakotay and the crew held something called a wake for the captain, to 'send her on her way', whatever that means. I thought, seeing as we missed out, we could toast her ourselves, and maybe share some memories of the last few years? You never know, it might relax you, Harry?"

Harry grinned and nodded. He grabbed some glasses and they settled down on the couch.

There was silence for a few moments, then Tom spoke. "Do you remember the away mission with Neelix where he and I picked up that reptilian baby?"

Harry smiled. "The infamous hair pasta pummelling that our Talaxian Terror gave you? Oh yes, I remember."

"Hey, hang on!" said Tom. "I would have beaten him easily but for the captain's call to her ready room. I can still see her face when she looked us over. God, we were a sight. Me with pasta all over my chest, and Neelix wearing most of the sauce. . . "

It was a night for reminiscing. At some point Harry replicated some snacks, and sat on the floor leaning back against Tom's bare leg. They fell into companionable silence, Tom stroking Harry's sleek black hair. They were startled out of their memories by the clock chiming. Harry stirred.

"2am, Tom. Time for bed." Receiving no response, he looked up.

Tom had nodded off, slumped over the arm of the couch. He looked extremely uncomfortable. Harry stood and stretched, listening to the bones in his spine crackle.

Standing over Tom, he bent down to shake his friend awake. Tom grunted something and snuggled down even further into the cushions. Giving up, Harry entered his bedroom and stripped down for bed. He rarely wore pyjamas, preferring to sleep in the nude. Thinking about Tom, he mentally shook his head in resignation. Oh well, he had tried. If the pilot woke up with a hangover and a stiff neck, that wasn't his concern.

At some point, he woke, suddenly aware that he was not alone. He turned over to find Tom facing him, snoring lightly into his face. He whispered into his ear, "Tom." No reply. "Tom!" His only answer was another resonant snore.

He gave up and turned over again, feeling Tom's breath on the back of his neck. He suddenly felt uncomfortable being naked in bed with his best friend. He was about to get up to find some shorts when Tom's arm dropped over his shoulder like a dead weight. He tried to move out without disturbing Tom when the pilot rolled even closer and spooned against Harry. The younger man eased himself away slightly to allow some decency between their bodies, but Tom just snuggled up again. Harry surrendered and relaxed, eventually drifting off to sleep.

---

Tom's first thought was that he had to get a drink. His mouth felt like the bottom of a Terellian birdcage. His second thought was 'these are not my quarters.' He opened both eyes and looked around. Harry's, he thought distractedly. At that moment the young ensign came in, fully dressed, towelling his hair dry.

"Morning, Tom." He smiled at the pilot.

"Morning yourself, Harry," he replied. "Did I make a fool of myself last night?"

Harry just smiled beatifically, applied some gel to his hair and got up to leave. "Duty shift in forty minutes, Tom," he called as the door swished shut behind him.

Tom looked around for his clothes, then realised that he was wearing pyjamas. There was no way he was walking back to his quarters this close to the start of a duty shift looking like this. "Computer, initiate a site to site transport to my quarters."

---

Tom sat at a table in the messhall, sipping his third cup of coffee. The buzzing in his head had subsided somewhat, but he still felt like death warmed over. A tray of greenish looking vegetables was plonked down in front of him, then a hearty slap was delivered to his back.

"Tom!" cried Neelix. "Running a little late today, are we?"

Tom was spared from a reply by the appearance of B'Elanna at the messhall doors. "Hey Bel, wait up!" he cried, chasing after her, coffee cup in hand. He caught up with her at the turbolift. "Good morning, Miss Torres," he beamed at her.

"Slut," was her brusque reply.

"Slut?" he queried.

"Slut," she agreed. "What were you doing in Harry's room last night? All night?"

"Well, I. . . " How could he tell B'Elanna that he and Harry had cried over their captain?

She nodded. "As I thought. Slut."

"Will you stop calling me that? We had too much to drink last night, and I ended up on Harry's couch. OK?"

She turned to face him, a twinkle in her eye. "The couch?"

He could feel himself starting to blush. "OK, I slept in his bed. I was drunk; I didn't know!"

"So let me get this straight, Lieutenant. You spent the night in someone else's bed, with whom you are not having a relationship, woke up drunk and are now running late for duty. Correct?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"As I thought." She turned back with a sweet smile on her face as the turbolift doors opened on to the bridge. "Slut."

He was saved from a retort by Mr Tuvok's pointed comment. "Mr Paris, thank you for joining us."

He took his place at the flight conn. "Sorry, Tuvok. It won't happen again."

Just then, Chakotay entered from the ready room and took his place in his usual chair. "Morning, Tom. Barely."

Tom gritted his teeth and turned to smile at the commander. Captain, he reminded himself.

"Can we run the diagnostic on the console today, Mr Paris? The captain noted that we are somewhat behind with routine work." Tom turned to his console as the automatic "Aye, sir," died on his lips. He swivelled back to face Chakotay. "Sorry sir, did you say that the captain. . . "

"Wants you to run a diagnostic, yes, Mr Paris."

He spun round to face the captain as she exited from her ready room. Apart from looking a little tired, she didn't seem any the worse for wear."

"Uh, Captain, I. . . "

"Mr Paris. You seem to be somewhat lost for words today. Do I take it that you didn't hear about the alien attack?"

"Uh. . . alien attack?"

She sighed. "The alien organism that infected my mind and convinced me of my own death?" She shook her head in dismissal. "Harry, fill him in later, will you?" She turned back to face her pilot. "I believe that you and Mr Kim held your own wake for me last night, Tom?"

He blushed bright red.

"Never mind, Tom, I was touched by your grief. Too much wine, was it?" She smiled and took her place. Tom swung back to face the screen, willing his face to return to its normal colour. It didn't help when a message popped up on his console from B'Elanna. One word.

"Slut!"

---
Epilogue.

"Well, that was certainly a unusual day."

Harry nodded his agreement. The two of them were sitting in Sandrine's, sipping holographic wine - Tom claimed to have sworn off the bottle - "It'll be pink asteroids next" - and relaxing as the day wound down.

Tom turned to face his friend. "Harry, please tell me something. This morning, when I woke up, you didn't answer my question. Did I make a fool of myself or not?"

His friend smiled back, as he got up to leave. "You were the perfect gentleman, Tom."

The pilot breathed a sigh of relief, but then, as the doors swung open to let Harry leave, the Ops officer turned back to add, "More's the pity."

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End