The PKSP Archive - Still Waters by envoy (envoy@mjc1.demon.co.uk) --- Disclaimer: 'They' aren't mine, okay? (The story is though) --- "Never mind Harry, you'll win one of these days." He puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to the bar. I resist the urge to freeze and shake him off and smile good naturedly; I smile as Harry Kim always does when beaten. "And to prove how gracious a winner *I* am, I'll buy you a drink,". That's right Tom; you are the winner and I am the loser. And it really is gracious of you to spend my replicator rations on me. I used to keep count of the rations I lost, but I chose to lose count at the 1500- mark. And that was two years ago. My losing to Tom is as much a tradition as Sandrine's itself; I've been losing for so long that no one bothers to ask *if* I lost- all they want to know is by how much. Sometimes I think Tom has an off-the-table betting ring going. Anyway, it is all tradition; I lose, Tom suggests I'll win one day and then offers to buy me a drink. Who am I to break with tradition? I want to break it. I would like Tom to say something other than his patronising consolation; it is so cocky and insulting- which is Tom- but the worst part is he does not realise how it makes me feel. We are supposed to be 'best friends' and *I* realise that a lot of what Tom says and does is front- though that doesn't stop it hurting- but he seems totally unaware that it could be the case for me too. It's almost as though because I am his best friend he has the right to take advantage of me. He and he alone. I have to admit that Tom and I are a bizarre pair; how much do we really have in common? But when I was assigned to Voyager I decided it was time to do my own thinking, time to prove I could be successful on my terms and not those dictated to me. Time to begin friendships with people I wanted to know, not necessarily those at the top of their professions or those whom it would be 'advantageous' to know. Maybe our friendship is not so strange- we both want people to accept us as we are now and not pay attention to the past. With Tom it seems to have worked. I should just accept that it will never work for me. Or maybe I have accepted that I will never get home and so have no choice but to accept that it will never work for me. What does it matter? "Yeah, Harry was just making his weekly contribution to the Lieutenant Paris ration fund,". He thwacks me on the back and treats me to his super confident and super patronising smile; a smile which is so superior it tempts me to punch him. I resist the temptation- how can I feel this way about my best friend? "Anytime you feel like contributing to my ration fund, Kim, let me know,". The scathing, sneering voice of Crewman Barnes makes it clear what he thinks of me. And if I had any doubt, the look on his face would have removed it; lips snaking to a hostile smile which did not meet his pointing eyes. I am his senior officer and this is how he treats me? But it is not that- it is that someone who does not know me can feel such disdain toward me. I hear Tom laugh and make a smart retort. I hear Tom laugh with Barnes; I hear Tom laugh at me. I hear him laugh at me. "If you ever want a challenge Paris.. you know where to find me,". "You? A challenge?" Tom snipes. "More so than Mr Baby- Face Ensign, there,". Why does it always have to be this way? Why is my life the same repeating circle? I push my still full glass back to Tom. "Why don't you take him up on his offer?" I query. "Well.. because.. because I enjoy playing pool with you,". "You and I don't play pool; I play pool and you play at fleecing me,". "Harry, come on..!" "No, Tom. I'm not interested in that anymore; I'm not interested in being the cause of everyones' snide remarks. I'm not interested in being used,". I move to leave. "Harry...," he begins. "No, Tom!" I shout. Everyone hears; everyone turns snide eyes to watch Baby-Face over-react. Let them. "I am tired of putting up with all this crap. If you were any kind of friend you would have realised this long ago,". I walk swiftly from the room, aware of the staring and the silence and the sharp crescendo when I exit. I walk swiftly along the corridors aware of what I have just done; aware that people are talking about me. Fuck it. Let them. --- The End