The PKSP Archive - Adore
by envoy

---

Disclaimer: 'They' are not mine. I just like to play with them in
cruel and twisted ways.

---

I can do this.

I have done it a thousand times before- I have faced these people any
number of occasions. Yes, there is a difference this time, but it is a
difference which should not make a difference.

Harry Kim could do this.

It would be so easy to slip back into him, but that would make things
pointless and there was a point, wasn't there? To not be what he
represented; to be what I am. And I can do this.

I step in front of the door and it parts automatically. For a second I
hesitate there, as eyes glance then hasten away and a trough in the
conversation threatens to pull me down. Swiftly, eyes turn away..

"Harry,".

It's B'Elanna.

I do not think that she will ever know how relieved I am to see her.
In spite of my determination to face them like this- the knowledge
that it has to be done- I don't think I would have been able to sit
amongst them on my own knowing what they have to be thinking; knowing
what they would never say.

"That is horrible- as usual... and that?.. I don't want to know," she
says, pointing to her tray.

"I'll just have some coffee then,".

She makes a face.

Ah. Well, I didn't really feel like anything,".

"Are you going to be okay, Harry?" she asks.

"I hope so,".

It was not a question I could answer.

I want to be okay, but intentions and actualities are separate things.
I had intended to be a good son and a successful officer. I should not
need to mention the actuality. Or perhaps that is the actuality as
others saw it.

I had always respected my parents, had always paid attention to their
wishes. I had always done my best. It was never 'best' enough for my
Father, but that I was not my Father's good son does not mean that I
was not a good son. And what really makes a successful officer: rank
or respect? B'Elanna- and Tom- had rank, but had had to work at
gaining respect; what reason was there to listen to a dropout turned
maquis, however brilliant? Or to pay attention to a liar and a convict
who was there only because he thought it would help his parole
prospects? For that matter, what reason was there to listen to an
Ensign on his first mission? I had been listened to though.

Neither Tom nor B'Elanna could have been called successful- not at the
beginning. Perhaps I had been what I had intended to be; I just hadn't
realised until I looked instead of seeing what others did.

"Harry? Harry, hello?"


I shake my thoughts loose; B'Elanna has gone and Tom sits in her
stead.

"Paris. Sorry. How are you doing?"

"Fine. How about you? You know that if you don't feel ready you should
take more time. The Captain won't mind,".

Paris and I were good friends before all this. I miss that and I want
us to be like that again, but there is something in the way. We seem
so disparate. I don't want it to be that way, but I can't see it being
otherwise. Not until I say something.

"Harry?"

"I don't feel ready, Tom," I admit "Getting here... I don't think I
have ever been so glad to see someone as when I saw B'Elanna sitting
here. But you know.. everyone knows what I did and hiding away won't
change that or their reactions. And the longer I leave it the more of
a freak show I make myself. That's not something I need,".

He nods. His eyes show understanding and something else. I recognise
it as support and I appreciate it.

"Harry," he begins "I know that you've wanted to be on your own
lately, but I was hoping we could do something like we used to. If you
want, that is,".

"Pool at Sandrine's?" I offer, causing him to pause in confusion-
unsure if I am serious or not "Joke, Tom. Bad joke. Maybe I could come
round later and you can fill me in on what's been happening,".

Someone bumps against me.

"-ing attention seeker,".

I recognise Barnes' voice; it retained the disdain he reserved
especially for me. For some foolish reason I suddenly become aware of
my increasing heartrate; I have to do something, I know I have to. I
don't want to...

Tom begins to rise. I stop him with a trembling hand.

"Barnes," I inquire, turning in my seat "Did you say something?"

"Nothing," he replies with undisguised disgust.

I can feel frustrated anger beginning to rise- anger I do not want him
to know- anger I cannot allow to undermine me. The rush of blood past
my ears becomes louder; I know he can't hear it. It pushes on.

"The usual content of your conversation then,".

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Tom are you ready?"

---

"That's all really. Nothing's really happened since you.. well, most
attention's been focused on you," he ends.

"That's the exhibitionist in me satisfied for another year or two,".

He smiles uncomfortably. No, it is not a smile- it's more of a
grimace, a wince. I have noticed it in the Captain and B'Elanna, but
to a slowly decreasing degree. Tom's degree of discomfort has not
altered since he visited me in sickbay. It saddens me- makes me feel
apprehensive and unsure- but I know why they react that way.

Perhaps they could understand why I did it, but they- none of them-
seem able to grasp the notion that it was easier for me to do that
then talk about it. The thing is that at first you don't recognise the
problem, and by the time you do the silence has become a trap; you
want someone to notice, but you cannot say anything. You cannot bring
attention to it because if it was worth attention someone would have
noticed it.

I guess I made them notice.

The crew react in different ways. A lot of them like to pretend
nothing has changed, but when they don't meet your eyes and you can
feel the unease and the unspoken words you know that something has.
And there are sympathisers, who at any innocuous remark concerning
suicide or any reference to my time in sickbay jump back as though
scalded and apologise profusely. Then there is me. I try to make light
of the situation, but this seems to make them uncomfortable the most.

"I don't know if I should be saying this, but.. you freaked a lot of
people out. They don't know how to handle it- they don't know how they
should act around you. I don't know how I should act around you. I-
none of us- want it to be this way, but it's there. I don't know what
I should do- as a friend- but I'm here if.. if you need me to do it,".

"Thanks. That was almost eloquent," I smile, hoping he will see the
comment for what it is; what we have always done when the matter of
feelings arise- brush it aside swiftly.

"So I lost it toward the end," he grumbles "Give me a break,".

"I've got something I need to say ," I pause- I had been practising
the speech in my head for most of the day because I knew I had to do
it "I want you to know that what happened happened- it can't be
changed so let's try not to dwell on it. But the situation between
us... I'm not proud of that. It could have been dealt with in a lot of
better ways. At the time I just couldn't see any of them. I'm sorry
for that. All I can say is that it was not really you I was angry
with,".

It sounded what it was: taut, uncomfortable and over practised.

I have never been good at this and it did not appear that would
change. I wait for him to respond.

He smiles.

"You've been practising," he accuses "Look, Harry, I know neither of
us is especially good at this kind of thing so..,".

We hug.

It feels strange, but it fits the moment. I slap him on the back.

We both still want to be friends, but there is an air between us that
makes me wonder if we can be. It is an awkwardness; that though we
know one another, something had passed to make us slightly different
to the one who had been known so well. An edge that may never remove
itself. I pull away and am a little surprised that he holds onto my
hand. He looks sad and nervous; he looks stripped of his facade.

"Tom?"

"I promised myself I wouldn't say anything.. I mean, we never really
discussed this kind of thing- it never seemed necessary but, but,
but... Harry, I know this will come as a surprise and I probably
shouldn't be saying this especially not now. Maybe never- I know that
you and Libby...,"

"Tom!"

He jerks his head up then, startled out of his incomprehensible
mumblings. His eyes are anxious for some reason.

"Harry, you and I, I always though that we had a good friendship- I
guess I even loved you in a way. And I suppose I knew... I shouldn't
say this now- I know that- but when you tried to kill yourself I knew
that it was you and I; that you were the one I could depend on- you
were the only one who wanted to know me in spite of Caldik Prime,".

I'm not sure what he is trying to say; nor why he is so nervous. He's
admitted that he loves me, but moments before we had hugged and as
uncomfortable as it made us to talk like this, it was something which
had to be done.

"I love you," he utters starkly.

"And I love you too," I reply quizzically.

"No; I *love* you,".

He is still holding my hand.

And I know what he is saying.

My face falls.

He was right; he should not have said it. Right now, I could not deal
with it right now. Why did he have to do this?

My mind is blank with surprise and I do not know what to say nor what
to do. I am not here; this is not happening; he has not said it.

What do I do?

I pull my hand from his.

"I think I should go now," I say, surprised by the coldness of my
voice.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"Tom!" I snap "I can't say something because I don't know what to say.
So, I'm going to leave now,"

---

               Of all the bloody things!
               My anger escalates through me
               as I stalk back to my
               quarters. He had to say it -
               he had to. Now of all times
               he had to say it. And he had
               been right-
               he should not have said it.
Especially not now.

               How could he do this?

               I slam in the code with
               a trembling finger and enter.
               
               How could he do this to me?
               Barely back to being friends
               and he is trying to take things
              on a tangent. If he had been a
             friend he would have known better
           than to say that to me. Now. When I
         couldn't cope with that. And I couldn't.
       I.
     I.
     I don't know.

---

I had not expected that from him. I certainly had not known how to
respond. It was as though I had been ambushed; and to an extent I had
been. I had never suspected. I had never really contemplated him in a
sexual way. I don't think I have ever contemplated any of the crew in
that way. What would have been the point? None of them would have
reciprocated- I was neutered by the lurking image of Libby- and then
when it would have been possible it was easier for me to ignore the
possibility.

I had to appreciate the irony. I'm just not sure it's what I had in
mind when I decided things had to change.

I'm tired now.

But he should not have said it.

And I am angry with him for that. I just can't be certain if I am
angry because he said it, or because he chose to say it now, when I
didn't know what I wanted or who I was.

Why did he have to say it when I was already confused?

---

I've tried to clear things up in my mind. How could I do otherwise?
It's not a common thing for someone you thought of as a friend to
declare he loves you-at least it's not common for me. And I think that
is the problemthat he is a friend and that I have never really
considered him as anything but that. And the way he did it made me
feel threatened- burdened- as though it was that or nothing. As though
I had to declare that I felt the same way or abandon the friendship
altogether. That is not the kind of decision I am capable of making
right now, but how do I tell him that? Because even if he accepts that
he will want an answer, and how can things be as usual between us if
he is continually wondering when I will answer, and I feel the
pressure of having to give him that answer?

I've not been blind; I admire Tom's looks- maybe I've even been
envious of them- and we wouldn't be friends if I didn't like him. I
never knew that he felt our friendship could be something else. I want
to know if I could feel that way too, but I try and look inward and
there is nothing there- just an emptiness which tells me nothing.

I don't know if I can ever feel that way about anyone again, nevermind
feeling that way about Tom. He is a friend, though, and perhaps that
would make it easier for me to love him. But I can't involve a friend
in that kind of experiment. I can't do that to him and I refuse to do
it to myself.

Perhaps I'm not angry; perhaps I'm scared. Not just because I've only
ever had relationships with women, but because the last relationship I
had was with Libby; and she is the only person I have ever loved. And
regardless of what past between us at the end I have to ask; can Tom
compare with that? And I have to wonder, should I let him?

I have to wonder: should I do that to him?

---

"Ensign Kim,".

I open my eyes and look at her. She stands statue like, blatant
curiosity on her face.

Her face is pale and unworried. It is like a mask. I have never met
anyone like her. She is beautiful. And intelligent. Beautiful. She is
unique, irresistible, but strangely sexless; her uniform accentuates
everything yet she remains unaware of its impact. Her body is nothing
more than a vehicle. And so she seems remote, untouchable and becomes
more desirable.

"Yes?"

Her eyes lock onto my crotch.

"Do you find me sexually desirable?"

I become acutely aware of the prickly heat of embarrassment.

Why me? Why does she have to do this to me? It is as though she knows
what I am thinking and has asked the question deliberately to provoke
a response. And I am responding. For her it is an innocent inquiry,
but for me something entirely different. How cam I answer without
embarrassing myself further?

"Well... no," I deny.

Her eyes remain fixed.

"Then perhaps you could explain why...,".

"Sometimes men... Look, I'm sure the Doctor could give you the best
explanation. Perhaps you should go and ask him,".

She raises her eyes.

"I will,".

She turns and walks away.

I watch her as she goes. I cannot help it. She has the capacity to
humiliate me, but it is not the same as with the others. When they do
it I could summon up my anger too easily, but not with her. My
embarrassment is truly inadvertent. And of all the people- the way she
looks, the way she is- she does not flinch at what I have done. I know
that her emotions are childlike, but for all that; she is the only one
who seems not to care about what I have done; what I would forget
about.

She is the first woman I have thought about in a long time.

She is not Libby and she is certainly not Tom.

And she does not know who I have been. She does not care.

I don't think I will ever meet anyone quite like her.

I smile a little- it feels foreign to me; so long since I last truly
smiled. And then I turn back to my work, and as I turn I meet his
eyes. And the smile filters away.

---

The End