by Jane
---

Author's excuses. This is a story in an a/u, but for all the wrong reasons. I glanced down the list of episodes, picked out 'Ex Post Facto' as the starting point for what I wanted to write about, and 'Investigations' as the culmination. But the list I was using had a gaping great 21 episode hole in it. When I realised my mistake, I looked for an episode to replace 'Ex Post Facto', another episode where Tom might feel he'd come close to losing the respect and loyalty of his crewmates, and there didn't seem to be one. He was an officer and a gentleman, and sometimes a hero, all the way until Captain Janeway asked him to be something else. I tried to rewrite, but it struck me more and more that a Tom with some concrete, up-to-the-minute self doubts would suffer far more in the run up to 'Investigations' than the second season Tom who actually goes through that charade.

And I reckoned you angst fiends could be flexible about this. If you like, we can pretend that the missing episodes got sucked into another dimension along the way, maybe in 'Twisted'.

So this story sits between 'Ex Post Facto' and 'Meld', and replaces everything else that happened in there. I've assumed Janeway asked Tom to play disaffected from just before 'Meld' commences.

---

"Tom, why are you sitting here staring at an empty glass and snapping at everyone?"

Paris raised his eyes to meet Harry Kim's. "I am?"

Kim nodded earnestly. "You've scared everyone off."

"Except you."

The ensign laughed. "Well, you know me. Too stupid to know what's good for me."

"Yeah."

Kim swallowed. "Tom. . . "

"Fuck off, Harry. I'm not interested."

"Not interested in. . . what?"

"Sublimation."

"Uh. . . "

Paris watched as Kim struggled to try and understand him. He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Harry. You're not the only one. Captain Janeway's doing it too. And Tuvok. Today was Tuvok's turn. I wonder if his kids are going off the rails without him there to straighten them out?"

Kim suddenly seemed to get the idea. He dropped into the seat opposite Paris at the little table and pushed the beer glass aside. "You think Tuvok only went out of his way to straighten that mess out because. . . because he's missing his children? Tom, you're crazy. He did it because he didn't believe. . . none of us believed. . . you could do what they were saying you did. We know you're not a murderer. How can you. . . since we arrived here in the Delta Quadrant, you haven't done anything that anyone in their right mind could find fault with. You've done more than that. You've risked your life to protect this ship, you've. . ."

He stopped the lecture. Paris was nodding. "Yadda, yadda, yadda."

"What's wrong? I don't get it. What's the problem?"

Paris sat up straight. "What would you all have done if Tuvok hadn't been able to prove I was innocent? If Captain Janeway had nothing concrete to go on. . ."

"She believes in you. . . " "Concrete. That's not concrete." "I think. . . I really think she'd have. . . she'd have. . ." "She wouldn't have lifted a finger." "She's bound by the Prime Directive. We all know that. We all know if it comes down to a decision between doing something drastic to a vulnerable culture, and defending a crew member. . . "

"If it had been you, she'd have intervened a whole lot sooner."

"Wh. . . what makes you say that?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry? You're such a good boy, andsofaithful to Libby back home. It just couldn't have been true."

Kim shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, I. . . I guess if you don't spend time with married women, you don't get in fights with their husbands, but I could just as easily get into some other kind of trouble. Like. . . like. . ."

"Insulting Ferengi in bars?" Paris suggested nonchalantly.

"Whatever," Kim answered, embarrassed at the reminder of how naive he'd been even a few months ago. "Yes. There you go. We can all get into trouble."

Paris shook his head wearily. "And look what happens when you do. Everyone knows it couldn't possibly be your fault, and everyone helps out, even a no-good con who knows damn well if it turns into a fight, he'll get the blame."

"Tom. . ."

"What would you have done if you'd walked into Quark's and he'd been harassing me?"

"I'd. . . I'd have stood up for you. After all, we're both Starfleet officers. . . "

"Mm. Let me rephrase that. What would you have done if Cavit had already warned you off me, and then you'd walked into Quark's and seen us arguing?"

"I'd. . . I'd. . . well, I don't know. I'd. . . I might have called for security, or something. I suppose."

"See." "Or if he'd actually started beating you up or something, I'd have tried to stop him. . . No, I don't see. You're saying I wouldn't have helped out if you'd been a stranger, and maybe you're right, but you're not a stranger. You're a friend. Maybe it was. . . maybe I was more ready to give you a chance at the start because I didn't know certain things, but so what? I know it all now, and I know you aren't that person any more, so. . ."

"You two okay?"

Harry almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't noticed the captain enter the bar and suddenly, she was standing right by him. She smiled at him.

"Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to startle you. Tom, are you okay?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Really? I have time to talk, if you want."

"Really, Captain, I'm okay. Just one more adventure. Next time I'll avoid married women. According to Harry, that's something the good boys learn at their mothers' knee."

"Mm." Janeway nodded. Then she patted Tom's shoulder. "No one expects you to be a saint, Tom. I don't think you did anything you should be ashamed of. It was just unfortunate. Good night, gentlemen."

"Good night, Captain." Kim made a half-hearted attempt to get out of his chair, but she was already gone.

"Good night, Mama," Paris echoed. He raised his glass. "I'm having another one. Can I get you a beer, Harry? Or is it past your bed time?"

Harry obviously couldn't make up his mind. He had dark shadows under eyes, eyes that Tom thought he'd be rubbing if he was a few years younger. The lieutenant took pity. "Go to bed, Harry. I'm all right. So long as no one expects me to be a saint." He turned to head to the bar, then looked back and cocked his head over to one side. "She doesn't have any kids, does she?"

"The captain? No. Well, not that she's ever mentioned."

Paris nodded. "Must be missing her dog then." He flashed Harry a big smile and went to fetch the next beer.

---

Kim couldn't sleep. His mask had tangled in his hair, and the sheets wouldn't stay straight, no matter how tight he pulled them over the mattress. Even his best attempt at his mother's hot spiced milk recipe hadn't done the trick.

He was used to defending Paris, sure, but not to being on the receiving end of the pilot's sometimes acid tongue. And Paris was never usually so hard to figure out.

He rolled over again, and stared into the shadows. His door buzzed, and he pushed his cover down to his waist and sat up.

"Come in." The outer door of his cabin opened and closed again. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Who is it?"

"Me. Paris."

"I'm in bed."

The pilot stuck his head round the partition between living and sleeping areas. "Sorry. I forgot how late it is. I'll go away."

"No, don't. It's not that late." Harry swung his legs off the side of the bed. He stood up, and knocked Libby's portrait face down on the shelf by his pillow. He picked it up and put it back exactly in position. "Do you want some tea, or coffee?"

"I don't have enough rations."

"Don't worry about it."

"Oh. Okay. I'll have a beer then."

Kim turned away from the replicator, not quite annoyed by Paris' attitude. "How many have you had already?"

"I don't know. I wasn't counting. I'm not drunk. I've just. . . unwound."

The ensign nodded. That certainly seemed like what Tom needed. He came over to the couch where Tom had taken a seat, carrying a beer, jasmine tea for himself, and a big dish of prawn crackers.

"Shove up," he instructed his visitor, putting the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch and sitting down next to Tom. "And eat something."

Tom snapped a cracker in two and rolled his eyes. "These things are all air. But okay, okay. If you want to take care of someone, that's fine by me."

They sat for a couple of minutes in silence.

"What. . . "

"So. . . "

Paris waved to the ensign to continue. Harry nodded and put his glass down. "So why are you here, Tom? Because I still have some replicator rations, or because you want to talk?"

Paris swallowed a mouthful of cracker crumbs and coughed as one started going down the wrong way. "I thought it was time I paid attention to what you want, Harry, instead of thinking about myself the whole time."

"Huh?" Kim responded.

"I was thinking, it's been a pretty typical Paris few days, me making trouble for everyone, as usual. I thought I'd like to thank you, for sticking by me."

"You don't have to. That's what friends are for," Kim said uncomfortably.

"Yeah, I know that," Paris agreed, "but a friend doesn't just sit back and take all the time. A friend likes to be able to give sometimes too."

"You don't. . . "

"And since I'd drunk all my replicator rations, I had to think of something I could do for you without running up any more debts with the Delaney sisters. It was kind of hard, but I thought of something in the end."

"Yes?" Kim wasn't sure exactly why, but he was feeling more and more uneasy about this.

"I was thinking about the captain, how she. . . she's kind of touchy-feely, you know? Hands on?"

"Yeah. . . "

"And how you're kind of a 'gimme-a-hug' person. Always got your fuckin' hands all over me?"

Kim felt his jaw drop. "Tom?"

"Loyal ol' Harry Kim, who never cheats on Libby back home. . . " The beer and crackers overturned as Paris grabbed at Kim. Before the ensign could react, Paris was kneeling astride his legs, one hand on his chest pinning him against the back of the couch, and kissing him with more aggression than finesse.

Kim didn't fight. He just waited until Paris got frustrated with his lack of reaction. "Tom, you're drunk," he said quietly.

Paris sat back on his heels, his hand still splayed on the ensign's chest.

"Drunk?" he said. "I'm not drunk. But I'm not a fucking hypocrite either."

"Hypocrite?" Kim echoed back at him. "Tom. . . "

"Yeah. Inviting me in here dressed like that." Paris gestured at the ensign's jersey boxers.

"I was in bed, trying to sleep. . . "

"But it's all part of the game, isn't it, being faithful to Libby because Tom Paris is a guy, and that doesn't count."

Kim forced himself to relax. His lower lip was stinging, where Paris' attentions had split the skin a little. The lieutenant's breath was stale and sour, and this close, a fine lace of red veins was visible in the whites of his eyes.

"Does it, Harry? It doesn't count." Paris punctuated himself with shoves against Kim's chest. The ensign took hold of his wrist and dragged his hand down to the seat of the couch, keeping hold of it.

"Tom, go to bed before you get into trouble."

"I've been thinking about that too, Harry."

Kim shook his head. "Get off me, Tom."

"Getting into trouble. Trying to stay out of trouble. Why the hell am I bothering? What's going to happen to me next time the shit hits the fan? The captain needs me to fly this ship. Even if she didn't, what's she going to do, confine me to quarters for the next seventy years? I'll believe that when it happens."

"What makes you think she wouldn't, Tom?" Paris brought his spare hand up and touched Kim's right nipple with the tip of one finger. "Who would she pet if she didn't have me, Harry? Hm? She's in the same predic. . . pre. . . predicate. . . fix as you are. But I don't count. No one would ever accuse Captain Perfect Janeway of screwing around with Tom Paris." He took the finger away, pausing to admire the slight pebbling of the aureola. He leaned forward. "You want to screw around with me, Harry? I won't tell anyone, not even Libby. Specially not Libby."

"Get out."

"Okay, if that's how you feel." Tom didn't move though. After a moment, he leaned forward and touched Harry's lips with his own. "Don't be angry, sweetheart." He put his hands either side of his knees and slid backwards off the couch. He ended up in a heap on the floor. "Damn."

"Tom, I asked you to leave."

"I know. Uh. . . My legs aren't cooperating."

Kim stood up and strode past Paris to fetch a robe. He came back, belting it firmly, and stood a metre or so from the lieutenant. "Either get up and get out of here, or I'm calling Kes to give you something to sober you up."

"No!"

"You don't want her to see you like this?"

Paris shrugged. "Not really."

"Then you do care what people think about you. I was beginning to wonder. . . "

"Oh, it's too late for that, Harry. Way too late for that." The helmsman untangled himself and looked up. "Isn't it?"

"I don't think it's ever too late," Kim answered seriously. "Not when people are willing to give you another chance, a fresh start. . . "

"Like you were, you mean."

Kim shook his head. "That makes me sound like. . . I don't know. That's not it, Tom. The first time I met you, you dug me out of a hole. I'm just taking it from there. Like I said earlier, you might have a history, but you're not the same person. . . "

"Well, what the fuck does that mean?"

"I. . . "

"Of course I'm the same person. Who else would I be? A damn chameloid? Well, that would hardly be an improvement. Or did someone tell you that a spell in prison can change a man for the better? It sure made me more cautious, and I guess I found out I was prepared to make some compromises that had never occurred to me before, but changed me? Shit, Harry, not in any way you'd know about."

The ensign swallowed. "I guess. . . I meant. . . you wouldn't be planning on making the same mistakes again."

"I never planned on fucking making them in the first place."

"No, of course not."

"And that's the deal, is it? I get my commission back, and my wings, so long as I don't make any mistakes. Only that's the same old deal as before. Starfleet gave me a commission, and let me fly until I fucked up. Then the Maquis let me fly. No commission from them, but on the other hand, they didn't do the uniform or the pension either. After I fucked up again, I thought I'd run out of suckers willing to sign me on, until Captain Janeway showed up. Of course, she didn't offer me anything but a two week vacation, until she had no choice. But it's still the same deal. No mistakes. Welcome back to the human race, Mister Paris, just don't make any fucking mistakes."

Harry dragged his hand round the back of his neck. Suddenly, his muscles were in knots. "I don't believe that's going to be a problem, Tom." He took a deep breath. "I trust you."

"But you had to think twice before you said that."

"I wanted to say it right, that's all. We can all get things wrong sometimes. Misjudge things. . . "

"That's not what we're talking about. We're talking about involuntary homicide. And treason, not forgetting a fucking library book."

"Tom, I'm tired. You're tired and drunk. Sooner or later, one of us is going to say something we don't really mean."

"Okay." Tom held out a hand, for Harry to help him to his feet. The ensign obliged, only to have Paris stagger forward and end up nose to nose with him.

"You don't think I mean anything I've said so far? Didn't anyone ever tell you you're not bad looking, Harry Kim? Sooner or later, someone on this ship is going to say the hell with Libby and drag you off to bed. . . "

"That's not going to happen. We're going to get home, soon. I'm not interested in starting up a short term relationship with someone else."

"Are you a virgin, Harry?"

"What?"

"Shy little Harry Kim. Does Libby even exist, or is she just a convenient excuse for turning everyone down?"

"Paris, shut up and get out of here. Now."

"Sure. Why didn't you just say? No need to get angry." The pilot turned and walked away, stiff-backed. He managed to stumble over his own feet just as he reached the door. "Fuck." And then he was gone.

Harry shook his head and blinked a couple of times. Paris was drunk. Paris was just on the rebound from the murder investigation. Paris was hurting and Harry realised his arms were aching from the effort of not reaching out and taking hold of him.

---

"Tom."

"Yeah, Harry? What is it?" Paris was towelling himself, still breathless from the treadmill in Voyager's little gymnasium. "They should use holoimages in here, make it less claustrophobic. . . "

"About last night, Tom. . . "

"Yeah?" The two officers hadn't had much chance to talk since. Paris had come onto the bridge with a couple of seconds to spare, having missed breakfast, which he didn't particularly regret. Both he and Kim had been busy throughout the first part of their shift, and then the captain had called him into her ready room and told him what she wanted him to do.

After last night, after the last few days, he really didn't know what to think. Her regret seemed genuine, but he couldn't still the small voice that argued it was just a good use for a bad apple.

"Well, I was drunk, Harry," he said, dragging himself back to the present. "You know."

"You didn't mean it?" Harry was looking at him with those eyes like a pup-seal's.

"I don't even know what it was I didn't mean. Look, if I fucked you around, I'm sorry." Paris took a deep breath. "You've been a good friend to me, Harry. Unlike some of the people on this ship. . . " He shrugged. The gym was empty apart from the two of them.

"This morning, the captain wanting to talk to you, that wasn't because Tuvok thinks you were to blame for getting into trouble with that woman?"

"No, Harry." No, it was because Tuvok thinks I'd make good bait to catch a traitor. You know those ugly-bastard worms you dig up to take fishing, Harry. . . or were you too squeamish? Kathryn Janeway isn't squeamish. . .

"Tom?"

"What? Oh. . . No. It wasn't anything to do with that. It was. . . just Tuvok being picky. God, that guy's almost as anal as Chakotay. What does he think will happen if I don't file my quarterly self- assessment? Christ, why doesn't he write it for me if it's that important. 'Tom Paris, threatening Starfleet standards in new quadrants, appearing in a starship near you, right now. But what the hell, they can't exactly transfer me, can they?" His throat caught.

Seemed they could, in a roundabout kind of way.

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . //

Yeah, I'm sorry too, Captain.

"Tom? Are you okay? You keep. . . fading out. . . "

"I didn't get much sleep last night. What time did I leave Sandrine's?"

"Sandrine's?" No, I don't remember being in your quarters last night, Harry. I'd better not remember telling you how scared I am, because I'm not just scared now. . . I'm terrified. "Yeah, what time did I leave? I must have crashed out. Woke up still in my uniform. . . "

"Tom, you were talking about Libby last night."

"Are you sure? Hell, I don't even know Libby. You sure you weren't talking about her?"

"No. You were saying, some of us, your friends here. . . "

"I was drunk."

"You were saying, that the captain. . . that Tuvok. . . "

I think I'm bait.

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . //

"Har, I was drunk. . . "

"Well, I didn't think about it, because I was tired, and because I didn't want to, but. . . "

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . //

No, Harry, no, Harry, no, Harry. . .

"But you were right. I have been. . . I've been hanging on to you because. . . because I haven't wanted to think about what being here means. . . that it means we're officially missing. . . I mean, you know, when everyone understands they mean dead, only they aren't saying it quite yet. . . "

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . //

Not now Harry not now why didn't you say this last night only I was doing my damnedest to stop you ever saying it because I wanted to say it too and I couldn't live with only answer I thought I was going to get. . .

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . //

"I think I love you, Tom. I wouldn't have said anything but. . . last night. . . I realised you needed someone to say it to you. I realised. . . . I hoped you wanted that someone to be me. I don't think there's any mistake you could make that would stop me. . . "

//Sorry//

"That would stop me loving you. Say something, Tom. . . "

//Sorry//

". . . even if it's just 'get lost'."

//Sorry//

Paris shook himself, shook Janeway and her fork, turning over the beach for worms, out of his mind. "You have to be kidding, Ensign."

"Tom. . . "

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not offended. It takes all kinds, I guess. But you'll understand, after New Zealand. . . "

Harry's jaw dropped a mile. "Tom, I'm sorry, I never. . . "

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . //

". . . I'd never. . . I never thought. . . "

"Of course you didn't. You wouldn't be Harry Kim if you thought about things like that. Don't worry about it."

"Tom. . . "

"I said, don't worry about it." Paris threw his towel into the fresher. "It was the drink talking last night. Both of us, we'd both been drinking," he said firmly, forgetting that he didn't remember last night. "And Harry. . . " The ensign's eyes lit, and Paris swallowed the lump in his throat.

Watch this, Captain, I really can be a hero.

"Haven't you noticed how few friends, really close friends, B'Elanna has? She kind of looked on Chakotay as a father substitute, back in the Maquis, but that doesn't fit too well with how Janeway wants her Exec to play it. You should make time for her."

"You don't have to. . . arrange mercy dates for me, Tom." Harry actually sounded angry, but Paris laughed.

"You want me to tell her you said that? I wouldn't consider Torres a mercy date. And I really think she's more your type, Harry. Isn't she?"

"Maybe," Harry conceded stiffly. He rubbed his face dry and folded his arms tightly around his towel. "Yes, maybe she's more my type."

//Sorry I have to ask this of you, Tom. . . // Paris nodded.

//Sorry//

Kathryn, I don't think you know the meaning of the word.

---

End