The PKSP Archive - numb by envoy (envoy@mjc1.demon.co.uk) --- Disclaimer: Startrek, Voyager, the characters therein are copyright and I don't even attempt to snatch them for myself :) --- End of Alpha shift, end of another day. I linger on, tinkering with what does not need adjusting; I linger on- any excuse to avoid the void until my next shift. Anything. But my replacement is getting jittery and I can see Tom waiting for me, so I do what they want. "Fancy going to Sandrine's later on?" he asks me. "No, uh," I think quickly "I've got a music piece which needs some work,". "Always trying to be perfect," he teases- and he means it good-naturedly- "Well, you know where I'll be if you change your mind,". "Sure, Tom. Later,". With a smile and a wave he walks away in the opposite direction. Always trying. That's me. What can I say; I am Mr. Perfection; Mr. Smiley; Mr. Always-There. I slam my fist against the wall and wince at the pain, but it is good pain- it reminds me I am alive. Ensign Riley gives me a strange look as she passes. I guess she saw me. If I had been B'Elanna no one would have batted an eyelid; Klingons are notorious for their tempers. But I am Harry Kim; *he* does not do things like that. But I am Harry Kim. I go to my quarters and pick up my flute- no holodeck today. I cannot stand the pretence. I begin to play the instrument, playing the notes without music because they are in my head- I have tried to play the music successfully so often that I have memorised them. And there it is. Again, I stumble. I go back to the beginning and try again, concentrating harshly and pulling the music down with me instead of flowing with it. Again. I stumble. I start again. The music is tentative, but flowing as it takes its own life and pulls me after it, helping me to forget my too-existent thoughts. Then I stumble. I go back a bar and start again. And I go back a bar and start again. And bar after bar after bar after bar again and again and again and again. What is the point? I throw the instrument from me and enjoy the clatter of its fall. Enjoyed it. Music was one of the few things my mother and I had had in common, and it had made her so proud to hear me play, to watch as I increased in proficiency. It had made her proud. When I started I was just fooling with it- I had no real talent, but all she saw was her son and an instrument. It went without saying I was talented and that I would excel at it. Even I accepted that. And I did- do- enjoy playing, but I started it for her and I have to ask: will I ever see her again? Will she ever hear me play again? I started it for her and for once in my life I would like to have something for myself. The door chime goes and I rise to answer it "B'Elanna," I smile, slipping back into 'Harry Kim' easily. "Starfleet," she greets me "Come to Sandrine's with me!" What is it with these people and Sandrine's? It is a replication of a sleazy French pit Tom enjoyed to frequent. It was an interesting diversion, but I didn't want to spend *all* my time there. "Thanks, but I'm not feeling too great; I'll give it a miss,". She frowns in concern: "Maybe you should see the Doctor,". "Nah- I just need dome sleep. I'll see you tomorrow,". I smile and she smiles and leaves. She calls me 'Starfleet'. It has become an endearment, but every now and again- especially now- it takes on its original meaning; an insult to the smooth- skinned graduate she met. The person I still am. I carry the burden of getting everything I want; Starfleet, rank, my first post. All people see is how 'easily' it comes to me- they don't see the work, the sacrifices to make sure I didn't fail my parents. I could count the evenings off on one hand. And all of this has made me what I am, when all I want is to be like Tom who has experienced life. Even he thinks I have it easy. So I wonder: if *I* have it easy, why is *he* the Lieutenant? Christ! Four years in Starfleet Academy- and another three in the Delta Quadrant carrying more expectation than a Lieutenant-Commander!- and a Starfleet dropout turned Maquis Agent is ranked above me; seven years and a disgraced Starfleet graduate turned failed Maquis Rebel turned penal colonist is ranked above me! I am not saying they do not deserve it- they are both excellent at what they do- but I am asking why I went through it all? For nothing. And if I hadn't gone through it- if I have not been so 'perfect'- I would be on Earth right now. On Earth. Married to Libby. A bizarre concept. Everyone on board believes we had this perfect relationship- and maybe I am guilty of fostering that belief- but it couldn't be further from the truth. Our relationship was 'okay' and rapidly slipping into no- man's-land. Getting engaged was an attempt to salvage *something*. And it made my parents happy. Libby would have been upset to hear I was MIA, but she would not have allowed it to rule her life. If she is half the woman I know her to be she will already be re- engaged. And me? Having recovered from the shock of being 70 000 light years from home; being ready to put down the shield I used Libby as, I find no woman on board wants to destroy the 'perfect' relationship. Shit. And it gets difficult and lonely. But I don't know what to do. How can I tell people how I feel when they see me as a happy, efficient, eager *friend*? How can I tell people how I feel, when all they see is Harry Kim? --- The End