by Choirboy
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An alternative ending to "The Chute".

No rating, just masses of angst.

Feedback please.

14/02/01. . . Created on January 10, 2002

For Bruce.

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Harry dragged Tom from the relative warmth of Zio's cramped quarters out into the freezing, draughty alleyways that divided up the no man's land between the prisoner's domains. His friend was a dead weight, but as Harry found them a corner to rest for a moment, he was relieved to see some clarity returning to Tom's hitherto maddened eyes.

"Hang on Tom. I have to find us somewhere else to stay. Our landlord has evicted us."

Tom grabbed Harry's arm. "Don't leave me, Harry. Not till. . . "

Harry stared into Tom's blue eyes. "Hey! We'll be fine. Don't ever forget that."

Tom smiled weakly. "Don't kid yourself, Harry. I haven't got long, you know that. Stop trying to protect me."

A tear filled Harry's eye. "Come on, Tom. You have to hang on. Voyager will find us. Don't give up on the captain. Don't give up on me."

Tom shook his head. "Harry, sit me up. I have to say something to you."

Harry helped his friend into a sitting position, alarmed by how light he was. From beneath the bandage, fresh blood slowly spread across the dirty material. Tom winced as a spasm of pain hit, then eased himself back against the wall. His friend turned his back, unwilling to watch as the pain tore at Tom's life. This couldn't happen.

"Harry, look at me."

"Tom, I'll go and find help. Someone will take us in, they have to. I just need. . . "

"Harry."

He swung around and knelt down beside his friend.

"Listen, Harry. There are so many things I wanted to say to you, but now time has caught me up and I'll never get the chance to say them all. So let me just say this. . . " He broke off as a fresh burst of pain creased his face.

"Tom, don't you do this! Don't you get ready to die. Voyager will come for us. . . "

Tom's grip tightened on Harry's hand. "Just let me finish, okay?"

Harry nodded, the tears flowing freely now.

"Let me just say this. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, on DS9. All I ever wanted to do was to take care of you, to hold you and protect you. Now the wheel has come full circle. Here you are, protecting me, while I'm. . . "

Harry shook his head. "I'll always be here for you, Tom. And when Voyager finds us. . . " he trailed off, admitting to the reality of the situation.

"Harry, it's over. But you have to go on, don't you see? You have to survive for both of us. As long as you're alive, then I'm not really dead, am I?"

Harry felt as though his heart were about to break. He had never known such bittersweet pain. His best friend finally loved him, but just as happiness was here, it was being snatched, no torn from him. He looked down as Tom's grip lessened. The hand fell to the floor.

"Tom!"

The blue eyes found Harry's and held them fast. "Goodbye, Harry. I love. . . "

It was over. Harry knelt, unwilling to believe the truth. Tom was gone.

A scream welled up in him, forcing its way past the controls he had instilled in himself, all those years of denying his emotions and being the perfect ensign. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He raced off into the night, ignoring all the catcalls and curses shouted from the other inmates. He ran and ran until he smashed into the side of the chute, stopping him in his tracks. Oh yes, he thought crazily, hearts could break, it was all true, hearts could break, his was breaking free of its moorings even now, shattering into a thousand pieces. . .

---

The warning klaxons brought him back to the present. He had wandered the compound for hours, covering every inch of ground, too scared to settle anywhere. He had avoided only one corner of the prison, too scared to see his friend again.

"Harry? Harry? Ensign Kim!"

Harry snapped up to see the captain staring down at him in horror.

"Captain!"

Janeway knelt down beside him. "Harry, are you all right? God, what happened? Where's Tom?" Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. How do I tell her? He forced himself to his feet, Starfleet training taking over. "I'm okay, Captain. I regret to inform you that Lt. Paris did not survive. He died of his wounds."

Janeway stood rooted in shock, too stunned to speak. Tom? She turned to the silent Vulcan standing at her shoulder, unable to offer any words of sympathy to the young ensign standing before her. "Mr Tuvok. Spread out and search the compound. Find Mr Paris' body, and prepare to return it to the ship for burial."

He nodded and began deploying his teams. Harry watched as the machine took over, the flawless Starfleet protocols and routines that were designed to efficiently handle any situation and protect the people who wore the uniform. But they don't, do they, Harry? Tom's dead. Anyone could die. You could die.

---

He looked down at himself, in a plain black suit over a white shirt. "I'm going as I am," he muttered. He didn't trust himself to wear the black and yellow. Not yet.

B'Elanna decided not to argue, and gently moved him towards the turbolift. They rode in silence to the messhall, where all of Voyager's big occasions took place. The receptions. The parties. Too many late night drinking sessions. The shared meals. The infamous food fight that Neelix had had with T. . . He stopped himself. Let him go, he thought sadly.

Kathryn Janeway stood before the podium, a model of Starfleet stoicism.

"Tom Paris gave his life in the service of the Federation. He overcame obstacles and setbacks to prove himself a worthy and valued member of this crew." She looked around at her assembled community, virtually the entire family of man in the Delta Quadrant. And now there was one less. "Voyager will miss him," she finished simply.

Harry moved to the podium. He began hesitantly. "I haven't come here today with any great speech, or words of wisdom. You may notice that I'm not wearing the uniform of a Starfleet officer today. This is because I feel. . . unsure about whether I can ever wear that uniform again." A ripple of surprise swept the room, before being dampened down under Tuvok's stern gaze.

"My best friend saw his life turned upside down with the rest of us when we began this long journey home. He was pleased and proud when his commission was announced, please and proud to wear the uniform again. Then he died. Not in some great battle, fighting for the ideals that make up Starfleet, or leading some heroic charge to protect innocents, but in some grubby prison, in a worthless star system that the Federation has never even heard of. He died, not in uniform, but wearing filthy rags, stained by his own blood, in a filthy alleyway, in a filthy prison. He died to save me. He died to save me, not because Starfleet regulations called for it, or because he was acting under orders, but because he was my friend. He was about to say something to me when he died. I'd like to repeat that now."

Harry left the podium and moved across to where the torpedo coffin holding his friend lay in the centre of the room. "There are so many things I'd like to say to you, but time has caught up to me, and now I'll never get the chance to say them. So let me just say this. Goodbye, Tom. I loved you."

Tuvok, sensing that the moment had arrived, moved forward to the control panel. His hand hovered over the dematerialise button. Suddenly, Harry spoke again. "No, Tuvok." He stepped up to the panel. Tuvok relinquished his position. Harry stretched out his hand to the panel. "I have to do this. Don't you see? 'This man is my friend. Nobody touches him.'"

There was a slight hum. The coffin shimmered, and was gone.

---

End