by CKC
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Disclaimers? We don't need no stinkin' disclaimers. . .
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B'Elanna says it was fate, how everything started on the same day. I don't remember. I mean, I've had nightmares most of my life, so the new ones didn't really register the first day or two.

These were bad, though.

Like I said, I've had nightmares ever since I can remember. Before we get into that, let's get one thing straight. My father (he didn't like me to call him dad) is not a monster. He never beat me, but I learned early on that nothing I did would ever be good enough for him. I started having nightmares the night before tests, soccer games, when I stupidly allowed myself to be talked into being in a play, when grades would be posted. . . You get the picture. These were your average, ordinary, oh-my-god-he's-going-to-go-ballistic nightmares. No sweat.

The ones after Caldik Prime were worse.

I relived every second of the crash, saw everything I should have done, should have said, and when I woke, three people were still dead, and I was out on my ass. No family (at least none that would acknowledge me), no career, no flying, nothing. It took me a long time to admit that I was better off than those people I killed.

Then I decided to see if I could get killed - you know, kind of a payback. So I joined the Maquis. I imagined my parents weeping over my artistically bloody, pathetic body, my father saying that I wasn't such a bad son after all, that maybe he had been too hard on me. . . Yeah.

I couldn't even do that right.

I ended up in jail. They called it a penal colony, but a jail is a jail is a jail. You know, I always kinda liked the way I looked. Women stared at me, and some guys, too, liking what they saw. They didn't see inside, where all the crap was; at least not at first. But in prison my looks were a bad thing. My first night there I ended up with a bloody nose, eight cigarette burns, and a wrenched shoulder, gagged and tied to my bunk, property of two 'gentlemen' with no concept of personal hygiene and broad sexual tastes.

I had some really bad nightmares there.

They pretty much stopped when I boarded Voyager. Maybe I felt safe. Maybe I was bored with dreaming. Maybe my subconscious was tired of doing all the work. I don't know. I just enjoyed the sleep, waking up refreshed, all that. I didn't think it could last, though.

I was right for once.

B'Elanna and I were having dinner. Ever since we were together in that Vidiian prison, she tolerated my company. I liked her strength, the way she attacked life (and people) without becoming brutal, and her beauty. Anyway, we were eating something green and blue. It wasn't too bad, if you could just get it into your mouth without looking at it. So we weren't looking at it. We were looking at Harry, carrying a tray over to join us. He was half-way across the room when Ensign Wilde stopped him and motioned to the table where he was sitting. Harry shook his head and took a step toward us. Wilde put his hand on Harry's arm and caressed his biceps. I glanced at B'Elanna - she looked at me and rolled her eyes. Yep, she had seen it, too.

"Wilde must be getting desperate - has he been through the entire crew already?" B'Elanna said. She had been his target a few weeks before, and was still not ready to forgive him.

Now the thing about Harry is that he never knows when he's being hit on. It's not that he's naiveïve - he can recognize a hit when it happens to someone else. It just doesn't seem to register when it happens to him. I personally have seen six women and three (make that four) men hit on him, and he was totally oblivious.

It happened again.

He sat down with us, beaming that smile that only Harry can smile, and proceeded to tell us about a new book he had read, and a workout he wanted to try, and. . . Harry is nothing if not enthusiastic. It's part of his charm, I guess. At least, I've always found it charming. B'Elanna says I like the contrast because I'm a cynical pig. She could be right.

Anyhow, she asked him (B'Elanna asked Harry) what Wilde wanted. Harry looked at her blankly.

"He was just being friendly," he said, like it was obvious to everyone. She started to laugh. "Oh, he'd like to be your friend, all right." And she cocked an eyebrow.

Harry blushed. I've never seen anyone blush like Harry. First his ears turn pink, then his neck, and then it creeps up his cheeks until he looks like one of those little dolls you buy for your lover on Risa.

"No, really, B'Elanna. He wanted to talk to me about a holoprogram he's working on. . . " We never let him finish. I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt, and B'Elanna almost choked. When we finally calmed down, Harry leaned forward, still serious.

"Come on, you guys! He knows about Libby. And besides. . . " His voice trailed off and he looked at me. I know that sounds stupid - "He looked at me" - but he really did. He looked hard. And I started getting this funny feeling in my stomach again; not like when I was laughing, but deeper.

"Besides what?" B'Elanna asked.

"Besides," he looked at me a second longer, and then turned to her, "I'm not attracted to other men."

Then B'Elanna reached out and touched his hand. "We know, Harry. But you've got to face facts. We could be out here for years. . . "

He looked down at his plate. "I know. But I'm not ready to give up hope yet." And then he smiled at us again and it was like getting a gift you didn't expect. "I have faith in the Captain, and in you guys, and in the rest of the crew. We'll get home!"

That's Harry. Loyal and enthusiastic.

What a combination.

I think the nightmares started that night. B'Elanna says I looked like hell the next morning, so she's probably right. All I know is that these were worse than the ones in prison, and that's saying something.

I made it through the day, but they were there again the next night.

And the next.

During a break on the third or fourth day after they started, Harry asked me if I was feeling well.

"I'm fine," I assured him, even though I wasn't sure myself.

"I think you should go see the Doc. You look like you're coming down with something."

"Nah. I'm just having a little trouble sleeping." Yeah, right, Paris. Waking up in a cold sweat screaming like a banshee counts as a 'little trouble.' But I didn't want to tell him I was having nightmares - he'd want to know what about, and how would I explain that?

"Maybe the Doc could give you something to help. I really think. . . "

"Okay, okay," I said, more to end the conversation than to agree to see the doctor. "Maybe I'll go after my shift ends."

I didn't think much more about it when I went back on duty, except that I was starting to get dog tired. You know, the kind of tired when you have to think twice about going to pee because you'd have to stand up.

I was glad it was a boring day.

Then my shift was over and my replacement finally arrived, and I made it to the turbolift, hoping I could lean against the wall. I didn't think me sitting in a corner of the lift, sleeping, would look too good, but . . .

Anyhow, there were B'Elanna and Harry, waiting for me in the lift.

"Hey. . . " was all I got out before B'Elanna started her Klingon dominatrix routine.

"Harry, grab his right arm. I've got his left."

I raised an eyebrow. "This could be fun. . . "

"Sickbay," she said, without cracking a smile. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?"

I was going to make a smart remark about Adonis being blinded by his own beauty, but then I realized it wasn't worth the energy. So I shook my head, and caught the glance she gave to Harry. They were worried. And I was really surprised that they would bother to be. the Doc poked and prodded, and pronounced me healthy but exhausted. He prescribed some sleeping pills and insisted I have one day of bed rest, which was fine with me at that point.

He glared at me and continued, "And you are to be alone in bed, Mr. Paris."

I almost laughed at that, but managed to croak out "Sure, Doc."

Meanwhile, Harry and B'Elanna stood outside Sickbay. Harry still looked like he was worried, and B'Elanna looked pissy, which meant she was still worried, too.

They escorted me to my quarters, stood over me while I ate as much as I could, and practically tucked me into bed. I say practically, because when I asked B'Elanna if she'd help me get undressed, she told me not to be ridiculous. She said I was too exhausted to be able to cope with her, and, for once, I had to agree.

Harry got me a glass of water and they watched as I took the sleeping pill. Then they turned out the lights and left me alone.

I promptly sat up, turned on the lights, and threw out the sleeping pill I had palmed. You never know when some skills will come in handy. I got good at doing that in prison, because the last thing you want is to be fast asleep there. Now the last thing I wanted was to be fast asleep here. That's when the nightmares get you.

So I dozed. I'm good at dozing. I did it for two years in prison. If I'm dozing, I don't dream, at least, not much, and I can wake up fairly easily. I set the alarm for every half-hour, and that kept me from slipping into a deep sleep. Yeah, I know all that stuff about REM sleep, but this worked for me before, so that's why I tried it again.

The next morning I felt pretty good. I even checked the mirror, and I looked pretty good. Not my best, mind, but fair-to-middling. So I showed up for my shift. And then the Captain saw me.

"Mr. Paris," she said in her Jesus-I've-stepped-in-dog-shit tone, "what are you doing here?"

"Flying the ship, Captain."

"I beg to differ. You are to be in bed, resting, according to the Doctor's orders."

"But Captain, I feel. . . " "Like going on report?" she finished.

"No, ma'am." My father had taught me when to retreat. I left. Harry says I skedaddled, but I never skedaddle, or, at least, only when I was younger.

I spent the entire day in bed, but not resting. I knew the Doc would check on me periodically, so I had to be in the bed. Being alone was not the problem he thought it would be. I was pleased he accepted what he'd heard about my reputation - if he had checked up on me, it would have shot everything to hell. As it was I read, watched some vids, wrote some really feeble porn featuring four-breasted Aringlese women and surgically altered Klingons, and went out of my mind with boredom.

Harry and B'Elanna dropped by at the end of their shift, and was I glad to see them. I insisted we go to eat at the mess. They wanted me to be quiet, I just wanted to see people. So we went, and Ensign Wilde hit on Harry again.

It was so cute. Harry talking to him ever-so-seriously about gods-know-what, and Wilde's hand straying from Harry's shoulders to his back and down to his waist. B'Elanna had just taken a mouthful of. . . whatever, when she saw them, and I thought she would choke.

"Steady," I said, holding her arm and pounding her back.

"Shit," was all she was able to say before she coughed. Then Harry appeared, all what's-wrong-with-you-guys-I-was-just-having- an-interesting-conversation. And he helped thump B'Elanna's back until she turned her normal color and began to breathe again.

"Harry," she said as soon as she could comfortably talk, "don't tell me that you didn't see it this time?"

"But it's not what you think," he said, sounding hurt and outraged at the same time.

"It is what we think," she said, leaning forward and looking him straight in the eye. "He is interested in you, and if you're not interested in return, you should tell him. Right now he's getting a very mixed signal."

Harry sighed. "All you think about is sex, B'Elanna."

"No. All I think about is engines and sex, Starfleet." And she cracked that predatory Klingon smile that always sends shivers up my back. And other places. Harry got them, too. He shifted in his seat the way that only means something in his pants needs to be readjusted. I'd often daydreamed about getting B'Elanna into bed, or on the deck, or in a Jefferies tube, but she never seemed interested. That was probably just as well, given how I'd react if it actually happened. Hey, aren't daydreams supposed to be fantasies about what can never happen?

"B'Elanna," he pleaded. If she wasn't careful, both Harry and I would have to leave the table with our hands folded amidships - Starfleet uniforms are terrible at hiding hard-ons.

She relented, thank the gods, and we finished our dinner without having to hold our trays in front of us. Maybe that was why ancient shields were invented. . .

Without discussing it, we found ourselves in Harry's quarters. He wanted to play us some new clarinet piece he was working on. He told us about it, about some of the difficulties and a lot of the meaning. There's that enthusiasm again. I don't want to sound cynical - I really like listening to him play. It's not like I'm musical or anything. I mean, I took the obligatory three years of piano starting when I was ten, but Harry made the music understandable. I could hear a little bit of what he was talking about when he played.

We sat and he played. It was beautiful. Not the cuddly animals and candied sunsets sort of beautiful, but the pain and glory of life beautiful. We were his puppets; we cried when he did, we laughed and soared with him, and when he finished, both B'Elanna and I tried to wipe away our tears without being obvious.

"Harry, if you ever want to leave Starfleet, you'd have a good career as a lounge act in a hotel bar." I couldn't let him know how much I liked his playing. He might take it wrong.

"Almost as good as Klingon opera," said B'Elanna, still sniffling a little. Neither Harry nor I make any comments about B'Elanna's sniffling. She doesn't cry often, but the last time we teased her, she boxed our ears. (I never really understood what that meant. Believe me, it's painful.) So we ignored it.

"Thanks. With critics like you. . . " And he smiled at us. How can I describe Harry's smile? You know how depressed and unsettled you feel after an entire week of rain? And then, very unexpectedly, the sun appears from behind the clouds. It's like your very soul spreads out to enjoy its warmth. That's how Harry's smile felt.

I stretched out on the seat and rested my head against B'Elanna's shoulder. She put her arm around my chest, which surprised me. Usually she'd punch me; sometimes she'd push me onto the deck. This was nice. Then she wriggled against me, but quieted as soon as Harry began to play again. This song was soft, and we were carried to sea on quiet waves of Harry's making.

I rocked on those placid waters for a long time.


Slowly, so slowly I almost didn't notice, the waters grew rough. I must have been in a boat, but I couldn't see it. I could only feel the gunwales under my hands, peeling paint and splintering wood, and I held on as I was tossed higher and higher. Finally, I was tossed so high that I couldn't hold on any longer and I flew into the sky.

That felt good. It was like piloting the ship - flying is the one thing I know I can do well. Even when I make a mess of the rest of my life, and yes, I know I've made some spectacular messes, flying is what's kept me sane through it all. Especially piloting Voyager.

But the good feeling didn't last long.

I flew high, then paused at the apogee of my path. I could see below me, the land spread out, rivers and plains and mountains. It was beautiful, but I knew it wasn't for me. I wasn't meant for that - my father had often told me I wasn't worthy of a quiet, decent life, and that was one thing we agreed on.

I plummeted. Dropped, really. Like a stone.

I wasn't frightened. My stomach was left several kilometers above my body, but other than that, it wasn't bad. Not until the re-entry started to burn my skin. I glowed white-hot as I fell.

Suddenly B'Elanna was beside me and she took my hand as we fell. But I fell faster, and although I tried to hold her, to keep her with me, she slipped from my grasp, and I fell alone. By this point my skin had burned away, leaving a hideous blackened form - the real me. Now all the crap was on the outside for everyone to see. No hiding behind that face in the mirror. Not anymore.

And then Harry appeared, and he grabbed my hands and held on like fury, stopping my fall. I clutched him, because I knew he was my only hope, that he would keep me from hitting the earth like a meteor - with a loud noise and a fountain of flying dirt. Because then I really would be dead. No artistic blood, no pathetic body, but I'd be dead. Dead. Dead. I like the word. It has a nice funereal sound.

Harry pulled me closer until we were holding each other tightly, face to face. I looked at him, all sunshine and beauty, and stroked his cheek. He lifted my hand, and for a moment I thought he would kiss it, but then he looked at me. Really looked at me. And I could see the scorn grow in his eyes. The cold disdain and disgust. He could see what I was, how unworthy I was. He released me.

And I fell and died.


Why was this more horrible than dreaming of being humiliated by your father, or killing three people, or being chained and raped over and over? I guess because after those nightmares I was still there. Embarrassed or horrified or brutalized, but I was still me. And I knew I'd have to face the day ahead. But this one. . . I was gone. Everything that was me was wiped out, my body and my soul completely vaporized. And it seemed it could really happen. Soon.

I guess I was screaming, because my mouth was open and I couldn't breathe, and then Harry shot out of the doorway and grabbed my hands. And I kept screaming because I knew he was going to let go of me and I would die again and again and again.

But he didn't let go, and I finally stopped screaming because my throat just quit. I could hear him then, saying "Hush Tom," over and over. It finally sank in, and I lay back on the seat, still holding his hands.

"Where am I?" I looked around.

"In my room." He smiled. "You fell asleep. B'Elanna and I didn't want to disturb you, so we left you here." He glanced down, and I saw his briefs. "I went to bed. . . "

"Sorry to bother you. . . " I rubbed my eyes, wishing I didn't feel like a frightened eight-year-old. "I'll go back to my quarters."

"Tom. . . " He sat back on his heels, his hair all tousled. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

I stared at him. Oh sure, Harry. You want to hear how you're the only thing keeping me alive right now. "No."

"Will you be able to get back to sleep?"

"No." This time I sighed.

"Then stay here with me."

I really stared at him this time. Harry'd flipped. He'd gone. Two crystals short of a warp core. All I said was "Huh?"

"B'Elanna and I talked about it while you were asleep. We agreed that if you had a nightmare I wouldn't let you stay by yourself - you need to be with someone now." He stood up and grabbed my hands, hauling me out of the cushions. "Come on. We both need our beauty sleep."

I stripped off my uniform and joined him in bed. He wrapped his arms around me and promptly fell back to sleep. It took me a little longer to nod off, but I slept better than I had in years.


In the morning Harry didn't seem bothered when we woke up, arms and legs tangled. He just smiled at me and said "Sleep well? Oops, gotta pee." I let him go and stretched, surprised at how good I felt.

I put my uniform on, called out "See you at breakfast," and high-tailed it back to my quarters to shower and put on a clean uniform.

B'Elanna joined us at breakfast, commenting that I looked rested. I waited for a crack, but that's all she said about it.

Even the Captain smiled at me.


Harry and I slept together for a week. Sometimes I'd wake up and his hand would be on my stomach or back and I'd freeze, just for an instant. But then I'd remember where I was, and who I was with, and I could close my eyes and go back to sleep.

That morning Harry got to the mess before I did. I grabbed a tray of something red and black and started over to him, sitting at a table with his back to me. Then I noticed Wilde sitting next to him, leaning over, practically whispering in his ear. I was only a meter away when I heard Wilde say "Why screw that loser when you can have me?"

Before I could do anything, Harry turned and planted his fist in Wilde's face. Wilde toppled over backward, and I thought Harry was going to leap on him and keep pounding, so I dropped my tray and grabbed him just as Tuvok ran up.

It didn't take long for Tuvok to hustle Harry and Wilde out of there, and I was left staring at the door. I guess I just sat there for a while, because B'Elanna appeared and took my arm. Gently, like I would break.

"I just heard what happened," she said. "They're with the Captain now. Don't worry, she'll be fair." She glanced at the chronometer. "You've got five minutes to get to your post, Tom. I'll see what I can find out and get back to you during break."

"I've got to see the Captain."

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't Harry's fault."


They were in the Captain's ready room for a while. Then Wilde came out, and I was glad to see his eye was all puffy and his cheek bruised. At least the Captain hadn't been too anxious to get him patched up. Harry was there a lot longer. When he finally appeared, he glanced at me and flashed me a quick smile. Then he was gone, in the company of two Security goons. Yeah, I know, they were just doing their job, but that was my friend they were guarding.


The Captain was busy the rest of the morning. I met B'Elanna at lunch, and she'd already tapped into her spy network. You've gotta admire someone who's so thorough - when she wants something, she won't rest until it's hers. That's true for engine parts and information. And guys.

"Harry's confined to quarters for a week, and Wilde is confined for two days."

"I thought you said she'd be fair!"

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "She didn't put them on report, and since Harry hit Wilde, he should receive the greater punishment."

"Who are you, King Solomon?"

"Huh?"

"I've gotta talk to the Captain," I said, and dumped the rest of my lunch. Better off in the recycler than my stomach at that point.


Things were quiet on the Bridge, and the Captain didn't look surprised when I asked to see her privately.

"In my ready room, Mr. Paris," was all she said.

She sat behind her desk looking. . . I don't know, kinda amused, like I had spilled something down my front and didn't notice. I checked myself, but there wasn't anything there. Maybe she was just in a good mood. That's happened a lot since she and the Commander have been. . .

B'Elanna tells me to shut up about that now. So I will.

Anyhow, she asked what I wanted.

"It's not Harry's fault that he hit Ensign Wilde," I started.

"Why? Did the ship lurch? Did Wilde fall into Kim's fist?"

"No. . . " I started to get uncomfortable, but plunged ahead anyway. I had to do something to help Harry. "Wilde's been propositioning Harry recently, and he made an unjust assumption about Harry and. . . "

"And who?"

I took a deep breath. I was here to help Harry, not cover my ass. "And me."

"I see." I could swear her eyes were twinkling.

"It's not Harry's fault. He was just trying to help me. . . "

"He told me about your nightmares, Tom."

I couldn't help it, my jaw dropped. "He did what?"

She leaned forward, serious. "I was concerned about you. The Doctor informed me of the results of your tests, and that Harry and B'Elanna brought you to sickbay. I asked Harry if there was anything I could do to help, and he assured me that he and B'Elanna had discovered a way to prevent the nightmares." She sat back, and I know she enjoyed every minute as I sat there trying to figure out what to say. "Gee, thanks" didn't seem right.

"He's a good friend," I managed to choke out. I cleared my throat and tried again. "But seven days confined to quarters, Captain. . . That's a bit much for slugging a guy who hits on you."

"Don't worry, Tom. Harry told me that B'Elanna will take over with you. . . "

I saw red. Not the best thing to see when you're talking with the Captain. Chalk it up as another Paris weakness.

"Dammit, Captain, we're not talking about me! Harry's the kind of kid who liked to please the teacher and remembers every harsh word or tone of voice. I know he's probably in agony over disappointing you! You don't need to punish him, at least, not much - he does it so much better himself. Especially over Wilde, who'd proposition every living being, and some dead ones, in the entire quadrant. . . "

"Mr. Paris." She didn't shout. She didn't have to.

I snapped to attention - another thing my father taught me. Stand at attention when you're going to be ripped off a strip and it won't hurt as much.

"I am the Captain here," she continued in her ice-goddess-of-Norm voice. "I will decide the appropriate punishments for crew members." Her tone warmed a couple of degrees. Still brass monkey time, but better. "I'm sorry you disagree with my assessment of the situation." A notch higher on the thermometer. "Ensign Kim should learn restraint when defending your virtue." I relaxed a little and stared at her. She was back to twinkling again. I didn't know what to make of it - how often do you get teased by your commanding officer? I decided to keep my mouth shut, hoping I wouldn't put my foot in it again. "Well, Mr. Paris, do you have anything further to add?"

I shook my head.

"I would hate to interrupt such a successful treatment," she continued, actually smiling. "Despite Mr. Kim's assurances that Lieutenant Torres could continue the therapy without detriment to the patient, I am unwilling to experiment with the health and well-being of one of my most valuable crew members. . . " She paused and glanced at me. Boy, was she enjoying this.

"Yes, Captain?" I hoped if I agreed with her she'd cut Harry's sentence.

"Computer, an addendum to Ensign Harry Kim's confinement to quarters. Lieutenant (j.g.) T.E. Paris will join him from 2000 hours to 0700 hours."

"Noted," replied the computer.

"Dismissed, Mr. Paris."


Somehow I made it back to conn. I think I even managed to pilot the ship okay. No one yelled at me, or made snide comments, or even spoke to me much. B'Elanna says her sources reported that I stumbled around like a sleepwalker, but I know I didn't stumble. I think.

I didn't understand.

Why would the Captain let me stay with Harry? You'd think she was trying to encourage something. . .

Anyhow, there I was, standing outside his door at 1959. I felt like an idiot. Actually, I felt nervous. Why, I couldn't tell you. B'Elanna says she could tell you, but that's because she thinks she knows everything. (And boy, will I pay for that crack later.)

So there I was, feeling nervous. At 2000 I hit the chime and the door slid open. I stepped inside a pace and the door closed behind me. Harry bounced out of the bedroom, beaming. "Hi! The Captain called and said you talked. . . "

"Yeah," I said, still standing by the door. "Hey, Harry, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about. . . you."

Harry lost his smile and took a step back. Then another, and another. He landed with a thump on the chair. He looked like a kid who didn't get the Christmas present he had set his heart on.

"It's okay," he said after a particularly long pause. "I understand." He tried to laugh.

"What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He waved me into a seat. "I thought it was a long shot, but she said it was worth a try. Don't worry about it. I'll survive."

I was really confused now. "What are you talking about? Who said what was worth a try?"

He tried to laugh again, but it sounded like a sob. "The Captain said I should tell you how much I love you."

I guess my mind couldn't quite cope with the big issue so it focused on the little stuff.

"You told the Captain. . . "

"Of course. When she asked me why I hit Wilde I told her - I love you and he insulted you. So I hit him. . . "

My voice stopped working then. I stood and walked over to him, still not comprehending. I felt drunk. I couldn't speak, so I reached out to touch his cheek. He flinched, and I couldn't help moaning at the pain that tore through my gut. As if I could ever hit him. . . After a second, he realized I wasn't going to hit him, and he turned and kissed the palm of my hand. My knees gave way. All I could feel was the heat of his lips on my palm, my fingers, along the back of my hand. . . Gods, it felt good.

I bumped up against his knees. He opened them and pulled me toward him, still kissing my hand. Then he let go of my hand and wrapped his arms around me. He leaned forward and kissed me gently, his lips just brushing mine.

I couldn't believe it. Here was Harry, my best, and for a long time only, friend, kissing me the way I'd only dreamed. . .

He looked so handsome, dark eyes almost closed, a lock of hair fallen over his forehead. I melted. B'Elanna says I was already melted. Who's telling the story here?

I think I moaned. . . Okay, Harry, I did moan. He held me tighter, his lips pressing harder against mine, and I closed my eyes. Both of us were breathing pretty hard. My arms slid around him, and he pulled me to his chest. I could feel his erection poking against my stomach.

I freaked.

It's hard to be dignified when you're scooting across the floor like a Solverian side-walker. I covered about half the room before I realized just what I was doing and stopped, ending up in a heap in the middle of the deck.

"Shit, Harry, I'm sorry. . . " I was still panting, partly from fear, but more because I was really aroused.

"It's okay," he said calmly. I was glad he wasn't offended. "The Captain said I'd have to be very gentle with you."

"The Captain said. . . You discussed my sex life with the Captain?" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I just lay back and had hysterics. "Jesus, does she know my favorite position?"

"Tom," he knelt on the deck in front of me, about half-a-meter away. "She's seen your sealed file from New Zealand. She told me what was in it. . . "

That was it. I wanted to die. I curled up in a ball and hid my face in my arms. Maybe if Harry went away I could slink out of there. . .

"Tom." He was beside me, but didn't touch me. I was really grateful for that. "Look at me, Tom. Please."

I peeked at him. He was lying on his stomach, head on the deck, his hand a few centimeters from me.

"Its okay, Tom. The Captain just didn't want you to get hurt. Not anymore. . . She told me about it so I'd know what to expect. I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. . . Unless," he paused, and his expression darkened, "unless you don't want me. . . "

Without thinking I unrolled and grabbed his hand, kissing it frantically. "Don't say that, don't even think it! Dammit, Harry, I do want you. It's just a little difficult. . . sometimes. . . " I stopped kissing his hand and just held it to my cheek. I was panting again.

He moved a little closer and loosely wrapped an arm around me. "You're going to be okay."

I suddenly realized I had an erection, and it was pressing into the deck. "Not if I can't turn over - I'm so hard I'm afraid it'll break off!"

With a grin he scrambled to his feet and helped me up. We kissed again, and he pulled me close. He broke off our kiss and whispered in my ear as his hands traveled over me.

"Relax, relax. It's me, I love you, I want you to feel good. . . " He nuzzled my neck, and my hands slowly traced his muscular shoulders, usually hidden under his uniform, his long back, the soft cheeks of his ass. He kept talking, his words giving me a focus, a lifeline to hold on to. I concentrated on his words, on keeping my eyes open, on him, and I suddenly knew I could do this.

"Harry," I interrupted. He pulled back few centimeters and looked at me with that funny little crease he gets between his eyebrows when he's puzzled. I took a deep breath. I could do this. Gods, I needed to do this! "Harry, shut up and take me to bed. . . "

He was gentle. He understood why I needed to keep the lights on and my eyes open, and at every opportunity he told me how much he loved me. I tasted him first - after all, if he hadn't 'defended my virtue,' as the Captain put it, we'd never have managed to get together. B'Elanna disagrees. She says I would have spontaneously combusted if I didn't have sex soon. I just know how hard it was for me the first time since New Zealand. Trust me on this one.

So Harry went first, and I couldn't believe how beautiful he was, lost in sensation, his body flushed, finding joy with me! When he cried out, not a scream, but the most heart-rendingly gorgeous moan and exploded into my mouth, I wanted to cry. Okay, so I did cry. Sue me.

Afterward, all I could do was hold him close, caress his thick, heavy hair, and tell him how much I loved him, over and over. When he finally caught his breath, he stroked my cheek and smiled at me.

"Shut up, Paris. Now it's your turn."

He took it slow. I never realized how patient he is. Every time I would tense up in that way that's not a part of good sex, he'd stop to kiss me and talk to me. Eventually I reached a point where I knew I'd have a stroke if I didn't come now, and he knew that too, increasing the pace and pressure until I closed my eyes and exploded.

Wow.

Just remembering gives me goosebumps. Shut up, B'Elanna, can't you see Harry's blushing?

I've read my fair share of porn, some good, some bad, and in almost every story I've read, everybody comes at least five or six times. In twenty minutes. In caves, or tents, or on the floor. Right.

We didn't break any records, but then, we weren't trying to. Harry was trying to get me to a state where I could enjoy sex again, and I was trying to give Harry a night to remember. Final score: Kim 2, Paris 2.

It was enough. It was more than enough - it was great.


The next day wasn't so bad. I loved waking up and seeing Harry - his lips all swollen from my kisses, and his body tired from my efforts. All I had to put up with was the Captain's smirk every time she looked at me and B'Elanna's gentle teasing (ha!) when she got me alone.

She (B'Elanna) pumped me mercilessly: what did he say, what did Isay, what it felt like when he touched me, where I touched him. . . You get the picture. Are all women like this?

So, to save time and my neck I told her everything, in excruciating detail. She lapped it up, squirming when I got to the good parts, and sighing like a romantic fool when I finished. "I'm glad Harry got you first," she said, using a complacent tone of voice I'd only ever heard her use while describing a large, smoothly operating engine. "I wouldn't have had the patience to take you slowly. When it's my turn, I'll eat you alive."

"Huh?" I lusted after B'Elanna in a general way, especially after being with her in the Vidiian prison and seeing how strong yet vulnerable she was, but she just tolerated me. I thought. I had no idea she was interested in me that way. "Do you mean. . . "

"I mean that when Harry gets you to the point where you can cope with more. . . intense experiences, I'll be there."

"What?" She says I squeaked, but I never squeak.

"Harry and I have had this planned for a while, Tom. We were just waiting for an opportunity to put it in motion. . . "

I stared at her, not believing what she had said. Because if what she said was true. . . "The Captain?" I closed my eyes and felt myself blushing to my toes.

"Um hmm. . . She knows all about it."

I opened my eyes, and she was standing right in front of me. She leaned forward and grazed her lips across mine. I think my heart stopped for a minute. I wanted her. I wanted Harry. And it looked like I was going to get both.

She stepped back, looking at me appraisingly. "I think you might recover faster than we thought," she said, eyeing my pants. I told you, these uniforms are not what you want to wear when you've got a raging hard-on.

"But, B'Elanna. . . " I blushed again. "I'm on duty. . . "

"Don't worry. I promised Harry I wouldn't touch you unless he's there. He's afraid I'll get carried away and undo all his good work. So," she leaned over and grazed her lips against mine again, "you have six days to prepare. I'm looking forward to it. I think it will be a night to remember."

I was looking forward to it too.

I think.


That evening after round one, Harry and I were lying back on the bed. I know I was still glowing, and I think Harry had had a good time. No, I wasn't fishing for a compliment, B'Elanna. Shut up.

I turned to him, tracing his lips with my finger. "Hey, I remember you saying you weren't interested in men."

"No. I said I wasn't interested in other men, and I was looking at you at the time. You weren't listening."

I opened my mouth to make a crack, but decided not to. Thanks for the applause, guys. . . Anyhow, my mouth was still open, so I kissed him.

"What about Libby?" I said a few minutes later, when I could breath again. "I mean, I know you wanted to be faithful to her. . . "

Harry blushed. Jeez, real tactful, Tom, I thought. Why don't you just parade his personal life in front of the entire crew? I felt like a jerk.

"B'Elanna and I had a long talk about this," he began. "We've been out here two years, and it could be a lot longer before we get back. . . I know I'm not the same person I was two years ago, and she's probably changed and grown, too. At least, I hope so." He blushed again. "And when B'Elanna and I talked about you, I decided that I could either remain faithful to a memory, or try for something real."

"But how did you and B'Elanna. . . When did you. . . I never noticed. . . " I finally shut up, hoping that he would take pity on me and tell me everything without my having to ask. And yes, B'Elanna, I know you would've made me squirm more. We're talking about Harry, here - remember, the nice one?

He sat up, grinning. "It started about four months ago, right after the Captain and Chakotay discovered their grand passion." That's one way of describing it - Harry's such a romantic. "I just started noticing you. When we'd have dinner together, or when you'd listen to me play, or at Sandrine's. . . I thought I was just lonely. I certainly wasn't in love with you - I couldn't be! I had a girlfriend back home, and besides, I wasn't interested in guys."

"A couple days later, B'Elanna and I were having dinner together, and we both looked up and saw you come into the mess. She made a funny sound, and when I looked at her, she was eating you up with her eyes. I guess I made a noise, too, because she glanced at me and smiled. 'Two minds with but a single thought,' she said, and I had to agree with her. Then you came over and sat with us, and I thought we would both incinerate with. . . lust." I laughed. I could see B'Elanna igniting with lust, but Harry. . .

"That night, we talked about what we could do to. . . encourage your interest. We came up with a couple of plans, but circumstances. . . " He laughed. "I guess we should thank Wilde for being such a jerk."

"When did you rope in the Captain?" I had to know.

"The next day. B'Elanna did some detective work, and we found out that you weren't living up to your reputation as a Lothario. . . "

"Shit. I tried so hard to make it look like I had all the babes. . . "

"Don't worry, we didn't tell anyone. But we were worried - we knew you'd been in prison, and B'Elanna insisted that we talk with the Captain and find out as much as we could about what happened there, so we would know what we were up against. The Captain was very helpful."

"I'll bet. No wonder she's been giving me the old boy-are-you-in-for-it look! And I thought it was Chakotay's influence that was softening her. And now," I said, leaning over and getting his attention, "I think I still need some practice with this. . . "


Two days later, B'Elanna and I were having lunch. Well, we were sitting together at lunchtime, looking at a lunch that would rather have us. I was leaning over, telling her about the 'scenario for three' Harry and I had come up with once he was released. It was a good one, and she was deciding just how athletic she wanted to be, when someone stepped up behind us.

"Hey, Tom," Wilde said in a voice that filled the mess. "You so tired of butt-fucking Harry that you need some Klingon cunt. . . "

I'll always be proud that I was the first to pound him. Not that B'Elanna wasn't right there, ready to rip his lungs out if Chakotay hadn't stopped her, but I got to smash his face. Several times. And I even managed to kick him after Tuvok pulled me off.

We stood before the Captain, although Wilde had to lean forward and hold his crotch, thanks to B'Elanna's unerring instinct and quick hand- work. My contribution to Wilde's make-over was one swollen eye, a split lip, and a really puffy bruise on his cheek. I wanted to stare at our combined work in order to get the full effect, but all I could manage was to glance at him out of the corner of my eye - the Captain was pacing in front of us, glaring.

"Ensign Wilde. This is the fourth complaint we have received about you this week." She turned to Chakotay, who was looking calmly at the three of us. "What would you do about this in the Maquis, Commander?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I'd probably space him. Transport him right outside this port." He nodded at the window in the ready room.

"There's a thought. After all, we are a long way from Starfleet. " She looked at Wilde appraisingly. He turned pale. I know I hate his guts, but I felt sorry for him, having to stand up to that stare. "What do you say, Mr. Wilde?"

"Captain, I can assure you it won't happen again. . . " His voice shook. I was glad.

"It better not, Ensign, or I'll have your balls in a jar on my desk." I recognized the saying - my father used it. "As it is, you'll have two weeks to think things over in your quarters, and no replicator rations for six months."

"Aye, Captain." He saluted as well as he could bent over, and was escorted out by Security.

"And as for you two," she frowned at us. "This cannot happen again, regardless of the provocation. Commander, any suggestions regarding their punishment?"

He leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. "I concur. Computer, Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres and Lieutenant (j.g.) Thomas Eugene Paris are confined to quarters for three days each." Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to smile, and she continued. "Ensign Harry Kim's quarters. . . "


So we got to try the 'scenario for three,' which was good, and then we made some modifications, which were better. Then we needed a good, long rest. I was lying on my stomach. B'Elanna was giving me a backrub, and Harry was rubbing all the bits she couldn't reach. Suddenly, she sat up and laughed.

"Hey, why are you stopping. . . " I looked over at her. She's so beautiful when she laughs. . .

"Harry, he really is a pig. Look, he's all pink and soft, with the cutest little tail. . . " She patted my ass.

"Hey! I thought you said I was your turbo-charged pilot. . . "

"Nah, you're my pig." She laughed again. "My flying pig. . . "

That surprised me. You see, when I was little and wanted to try something, something I thought I could do, my father'd tell me I wasn't good enough. He'd say, "Tom, don't even bother, you'll only make a mess of it, like you always do. When pigs have wings, then maybe you'll do something right."

Whaddaya know. . .

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End