by Kalkasar
---
Disclaimer: The characters and Voyager Belong to Paramount. I just borrow
them, will dryclean before returning. The story idea is mine.
Warning: This story implies that the friendship between the Characters
Tom Paris and Harry Kim is more than just friendship. If you don't
like the idea of two men sharing a mutually satisfying, loving
relationship. Don't read this.
---
"Do you want to tell me what happened, Ensign?"
Commander Chakotay's voice is gentle, but the steely authority of his
command is still there, in the background. I raise my head and meet his
eyes. I've been sent here 'For counselling.' in
Tuvok's words, after yet another incident of fighting in the mess
hall.
I sigh softly. "You have the report, sir."
"Yes, I have the report. This report gives me Tuvok's take on
what happened, and an account from Neelix." He pauses, "I want
to hear your side, Harry."
I stare at him in silence for a few moments. I want to talk to someone,
but I wonder if I can really open myself up to him. The Commander has
always seemed so . . . Tom would say, 'Tight assed.'
At the thought of my beloved Tom's smart-mouthed attitude, I break.
I bow my head and close my eyes.
"I loved him." It's a whisper, but Chakotay doesn't
miss it.
"I know." He pauses for a heart beat. "We all did."
"I knew him. I knew him better than anyone on this ship ever
did!" My voice grates with the anger I still feel."They
didn't know him the way I did! How could they say what was in
his head that day."
I look at him, my eyes locked to his "Tom didn't jump from that
cliff, Commander! He didn't jump!"
Chakotay stares at me in silence for several seconds.
"Did someone say that Ensign Paris jumped from the cliff?"
"They said. . . they said he had been down. He was. . . for a long time,
ever since. . . since. . . sure he was depressed, but he didn't. . . Tom
wouldn't kill himself, he had. . . we had so much to live
for."
"Is that why you hit Dalby?" Chakotay doesn't try to stop
my ranting, just probes for the facts. "Because he said Tom killed
himself."
"I'm sorry, sir." But I am not sorry for what I did. Never
sorry for that. Tom was a brave, strong man, he wouldn't take suicide
as a way out of this. Not Tom, not my Tom. They could think what
they liked, but I knew him.
---
Tom Paris:
"I'm standing behind you, Harry, listening as you talk to
Chakotay. My heart wrenches at the pain in your voice, the anger. I caused
that. But you're right, I didn't jump. . . exactly. I fell,
sure. . . but maybe I should have hung on a little harder to life, fought
just a little more to stay. But I let go. It was easier to let go. I
don't have much time before this last little window to my old life
will be closed, but I need to be near you for now. Just for a little
while, until this isn't so scary anymore."
---
Suddenly, it seems as though Tom is here. I raise my head, wishing I could
see him as well as feel. I meet Chakotay's eyes and note he is watching
me
closely.
"Sometimes, I think I can feel him, nearby, you know?" I shake
my head. "It feels like I could just look a little harder, listen a
little more closely and I would see him, hear his voice. Crazy, huh?"
"No, not crazy. My people believe that the spirits of the dead are
not that far away from us. In another room, almost. . . a parallel reality
perhaps. The Spiritual Plane is not that much separated from ours."
"Yeah, I like that. I like to think he is close, it helps." I
wipe the tears away from my eyes.
---
Tom Paris:
"Chakotay, you're helping him more than you realize.
He needs someone to lean on.
I was surprised when he started getting into fights.
The first time, I tried to stop him. I stepped between him and
Joannes, but it didn't work. His fist went right through my head. Now
there's a new slant on weird!"
---
"I hit Dalby because he kept saying that Tom killed himself, yes."
I pause, remembering that scene in the mess hall.
Dalby was there when I walked in, sitting with his pals at another table.
I helped myself to some food, didn't care much what it was, or what it
tasted like, nothing has any flavor anymore anyhow. I sat down to eat.
Dalby raised his voice a little, the way someone does when they
want you to overhear.
"Paris was always a sniveling weakling. Even in the Maquis, even
when we came aboard this ship, Hiding behind Chakotay, couldn't stand
up for himself."
I looked over at Dalby and shook my head. {Idiot.} I tried to
ignore him.
"Then that crazy stunt he pulled with the Moneans, maybe the captain
should have destroyed his 'flyer' then, rid us all of his
presence. The only loss there would have been Seven of Nine and. . . "
he trailed off and looked at me, contempt plain in his eyes. "Yeah,
Seven of Nine." he ended.
I looked away. After the incident with Joannes, I knew I wouldn't be
let off with just a warning if anything happened again. I pushed the food
around on my plate, reminding myself this was nothing new. I'd become
guilty by association with Tom. By choosing to befriend him, I sullied
myself in the eyes of these people who hated him. Too bad. I loved Tom,
and nothing will ever change that.
---
Tom Paris:
"Yeah, I'll never forget that, baby, and I have a long time
ahead of me to remember.
Gods, I didn't realize when I 'rescued' you from Quark,
just what kind of a favor I was doing myself. I love you, too, Harry, even
though you can't see or hear me when I say it.
I say it. I shout it. . . once or twice, I even screamed it, trying to
get across to you somehow, and I think. . . yeah, I think once, you actually
heard, faintly. You looked up, glanced around, then shook your head. I like
to think you heard. I have to leave soon, and I forgot to say it to you back
there on that mountain.
---
Dalby wasn't going to let up. He kept talking, on and on about Tom.
I felt so alone. Tom would have laughed it off, had he been here,
distracted me with his silly jokes and it would not have got to me the way
it did today.
Then, Dalby made the final stroke.
"It's just so like him to take the easy way out. He couldn't
face it anymore, huh, Kim? He couldn't tough it out any longer. . . that
cliff was his lucky ticket to escape, huh?"
I got so angry. . . I didn't even think. I got up from the table, I threw
my plate at him, he came up out of his seat and charged at me.
Then, suddenly, he was on his back on the floor, I was sitting on his
chest with my hands at his throat. I lost it, I wanted nothing more than
to see him dead. Dead. . .
Tom's dead. I've lost the one person in this universe who meant
more to me than anyone else.
I look at Chakotay. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll accept any
discipline you think necessary."
Chakotay shakes his head slightly. "We'll discuss that later,
Ensign. For now, I want you to go and see the Doctor, get him to give you
something to help you sleep. Get some rest, and I want you to report to me
again tomorrow,at 13:00."
"Yes sir." I stand and move towards the door. My body moves,
but I don't have any conscious part in that. Since Tom died,
everything is on auto pilot.
---
Tom Paris:
"I'm walking alongside you along the hallway.
Strange how my feet don't seem to touch the floor any longer.
I've been feeling more and more unattached as the ship moves further
away. They keep telling me I have to go back. I know I will have to soon.
But I want to make sure you're ok first, Harry.
You walk as though you're not really in control. I worry about you,
your eyes look so empty. Please be ok, Harry. You have to be Okay. I will
be able to rest if you are."
---
I waken slowly, surrounded by a sense of warmth and comfort which has not
been there before.
For a moment, I forget reality and call his name. "Tom?"
Rolling over, I find the dead, lead weight of my grief and loss awaiting
me at the sight of his untouched pillow. I reach for it, burying my face
in it. . . his smell is still there, though it is fading. Fading away
like. . . like a whisper on a summer breeze. Like the last fading whisper of
his breath. I cry, quietly. Missing him, and aching for his touch.
---
Tom Paris:
I hear you call my name, and in an instant I am there, right there
beside you, watching you cry and wishing I could touch you.
Oh Harry. . . I'm so sorry. . . it was easy to step across the dividing
wall. . . too easy. . . and it is impossible for me to step back.
I hope that Chakotay will be able to help you through this. The emptiness
in your eyes frightens me.
---
I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Glancing into the mirror,
I note that I look slightly less terrible than I did last night.
Whatever it was the doc gave me, it sure made me sleep. A glance at the
chrono confirms I have been out 11 hours. More sleep than I have had in. . .
is it really a month, Tom. Have you been gone that long?
---
Tom Paris:
I follow you. I stand behind you as you look into the mirror. I can't
see me. I've forgotten actually, what I used to look like. How weird,
as if it is the mirror, that tells us who we are.
I remember reading a quote from a 20th century author, he said:
"Unless we look into a mirror we have no identity, but we go around
borrowing the identities of everyone we talk to."
I laughed.
But it's not funny anymore. Who are you, when the mirror says
you're no-one?
---
A shower, something from the replicator for breakfast. I can't face
the mess hall today, and Tom left me his rations.
Cold toast and congealed eggs, liberally salted with my tears, washed
down with my grief. {{God's Tom. . . I need you.}}
I go to work. There is nothing else to do. I stand at my station, staring
blindly at the flashing lights. My brain numbed still. My hands moving
through the motions of doing my job.
I look at Gerron, sitting in his chair. It's unreasonable I know,
but I hate Gerron. Taking his place, slotting so neatly into his
role. . . it is almost as though Tom never was.
No-one else seems to miss him the way I do.
We bury our dead. We mourn them. . . oh so briefly, and life goes on. I used
to believe that life went on.
---
Tom Paris:
I watch them all.
I watch Harry, looking around himself as though he had woken up one
morning and found himself here.
He reminds me of Alice, in through the looking glass. He doesn't
seem to fit, yet, here he is. Curiouser and Curiouser. Except. . . I am the
one who stepped through the mirror.
I am the one who doesn't belong here.
Yesterday, I was walking just a few inches above the floor.
Today I notice I am 'standing' somewhere between the floor and
the Bridge's hand rail. I feel the tugging, the cord that binds me to
that damned planet, pulling on me, but I resist. I can't go.
Not yet.
---
"Ensign."
The voice is insistent, jerking me out of my revery. I blink a few times,
turn to look for who has spoken.
"Tuvok?" I wonder if I have done something wrong, missed
something. The security officer's eyes study my face carefully for a
moment.
"You have an appointment at 13:00," he says. "It is
12:55."
"Oh." I nod, still only semi-attached to my physical self.
"Thank you, sir."
Tuvok nods and steps aside, but I notice as I pass him, something,
sympathy? Concern? flickering in the depths of his eyes. I shake my head
and walk on. I've imagined it, of course, Tuvok wouldn't allow
that to show, even if he felt it.
---
Tom Paris:
I watch you walk off the bridge and into the turbolift, but something
causes me to stay behind. It's Tuvok. I stare at him, watching as his
eyes follow you off the bridge before he returns to his station.
This is . . . intriguing. I approach him, a thought takes me right up to
him, face to face. I stare into the depths of those dark eyes in wonder.
He is. . . Harry, I don't believe this, but I swear he is worried about
you!
I stand there in front of his station and some stupid notion grips me.
{Vulcans are Touch telepaths, aren't they?}
On an impulse I reach for his hand on the console, staring into his
face as I make a shadowy contact.
"Tuvok!"
Nothing. . .
No wait. . . he tenses. . . I god damn swear he looks me in the eyes.
"Tuvok. . . tell him. . . Tell Harry I love him! Please! Tell
him. . . Tell him to be happy. . . "
But he looks away and I don't know if he heard me or
not.
---
I sit in Chakotay's office, listening to him talk.
I don't actually hear what he is saying, but the words sound
soothing. I nod now and again to let him know I am listening, letting his
voice wash over me in a soothing cadence.
"Harry?" His voice calls me softly and I look into his dark,
dark eyes. I realize he has expected some verbal response to his words.
"Sorry. . . I. . . "
"I asked if you got any sleep since yesterday?"
"Yes, sir. Eleven hours." I sigh, I still don't feel very
refreshed.
"Good. That's good, Harry." Chakotay smiles. "You
can call me Chakotay when we're here. All right?"
"Yes, si. . . Chakotay." I catch myself and say his name.
"Thank you."
"Tell me, Harry, how do you feel?"
{{How do I feel? How does it look like I feel?}} I stare at him in silence.
Chakotay doesn't say anything, he just stares into my eyes, waiting.
I think of a thousand things to say, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I
keep my eyes locked to his until the air around us seems to crackle and
suddenly frighteningly. I realize. I know. I know what I feel.
I stand up and some sound I have never heard breaks into the room. . . a
howl. . . a. . . scream. . . gods I don't know what it is but it is filled
with rage and pain and loneliness and. . . and it came from me!
Chakotay closes his eyes, he seems to draw in on himself, and yet, I am
powerfully aware that he is with me.
I draw a deep breath, the sound comes from my chest again. I howl and
scream and rage until I am shaken to the core with the depth of my
feelings. . . over and over. . . .
NOOOOOO! NOOOOOO! NOOOOOO!
---
Tom Paris
I hear your screams. I know no-one else can except for Chakotay.
I hear them. Each one tears through me like a hot knife through butter.
I don't come to you this time. I want to. But something tells me,
this time, you have to face it alone. I 'stand' there. . . hovering
near Gerron and watching him fly my ship, and I wish I could cry.
I haven't been near you since you left the bridge. Not really
near. I know that you're resting now. The strange thing about being
the way I am is that I can know what is happening in different parts of
the ship all at one time.
You're sleeping now, in sick bay, exhausted after your
'talk' with Chakotay. Your screams seemed to go on for hours.
Eventually they quietened, eased to broken sobs, and Chakotay had you
transferred to sick bay.
I looked in on you, from a distance, and then I came here. Back to
this place I found myself in after I let go on that mountainside. When I took
that tiny step and was suddenly free. . . so very free. It's beautiful,
Harry. It's like. . . being inside joy. I can come and go from here as
I please. I come here to rest.
Visiting your world is so tiring. So. . . draining, it leaves me weak,
Har I know you'd understand, if you could be here. You will when you
come here.
I don't know what this place is called. . . maybe it is heaven. Hey
whaddya know. Tom Paris made it into heaven.
I'll have to go soon, Harry. But I need to find some way to let
you know first. I need to tell you I love you. Then I can go. If you will
let me go.
Yeah, Har. I thought at first that I was coming back to you because I wanted
to. Yeah. . . of course I wanted to. But there is more to it,
Har, you're holding me. Calling me.
I am being pulled from your side and from this side. It's . . .
strange I want to go, and I want to stay. . . but it is getting harder. If I float
any further off the damn floor I will be head and shoulders into the ceiling.
I'm not sure I like. . . wait a minute. . . what's that?
I heard a noise. But. . . but there is no 'sound' here. Not the
way you understand sound anyway. There it is again. I turn around.
"Gods"
"Not quite," she says matter-of-factly.
Yes she is definitely a she. She spoke to me. . . right into my heart.
Not words like we would use. . . but speech. Pure speech without making a
physical sound. What is she. . . a dog? No a fox. . . a little white fox.
She's gotta be one of them. The ones who have spoken to me ever
since I came here. But I have never seen one of them before. I stare at
her. Her eyes are black, deep, dark, glittering, black and they shine with
the wisdom of . . . aeons.
"Who are you?"
"Myfanwe." She gets to her feet and turns away from me
trotting quickly across this expanse of. . . whatever it is."Follow."
Oh yeah, like I had any choice in the matter!
Something inside me tugs and I am compelled to go with her. It is a
familiar tug. The same tug I feel when you call for me in your sleep or
when you're crying alone and I have to come. But it is slightly
different. More. . . controlled.
She stops after a while. Drops to her belly on the non-existent floor.
"We wait."
After what might have been seconds or hours. . . gods you can't keep
track of time here, a voice speaks from somewhere. I voice I know. I voice
I have learned to trust over time. The rich cadence rolls around us like
wind. . . like a breeze and I suddenly have the sense of a breeze kicking
autumn leaves about.
"Hakuchimaya, on this day of days, grant that I might speak to
the spirit of my father. The one the wind calls, Kolopak."
"Chakotay?" I take a step forward, something inside me
suddenly leaping to life. "Chakotay!"
There is silence for what might be several heart beats. It is almost
as though I hear my heart beating. Impossible, but then, we are so
tied into the physical it is probably not unusual.
"Tom?"
I close my eyes. If I could, I would cry with relief.
"He does not see you." The fox speaks in her silent heart to
heart words and looks up at me.
"Why not? Why can't he see? Isn't he here?"
"He is here, and he is not."
"That makes no sense."
"Sense is a mortal concept."
No arguing with that "But he hears. He does hear me,
doesn't he?"
"He dreams." She moves closer to me, nudges against my hand
with her nose which for some crazy reason I notice, is not wet or cold.
"Oh great. That's a lot of help! I thought you came to help
me!?" For the first time I let my frustration show.
"I am a guide. You must find your own way, I can only show the
direction to take."
She nudges me again and I stumble forward. Big push for such a little
fox. I glance back but she is gone, leaving a whisper of her voice behind.
"See."
Pow! I am in mortal world or. . . parallel plane or whatever the hell you
want to call it. In Chakotay's quarters. What the?
"Okay big man." I float above his bed, looking down on him.
"You're the spiritual giant here. Tell me what I am supposed to
see?"
Harry, you woulda laughed. You and I. . . we woulda had a ball with this.
You wanna know what he said? Actually, I dunno what he said or what it
meant, but it sounded like "snxzerk!"
"This is not funny, Chakotay. This 'guide' brought me
here. She must have a reason. . . you said once there was a reason for
everything. So I'm willing to accept that. What is the reason?"
He rolls over and groans in his sleep. He calls my name. "Tom!
Tom Paris!"
"Holy shit, what's happening?" The tugging is
there. . . "Oh gods, oh gods! No. . . " I fight, using all my will not
to let this happen. "No! No! Stop. . . oh ohhh shiiit!"
He gasps. I gasp. . . the hell with it, we gasp! our eyes fly open
and we. . . he. . . I sit up in bed! "Shit what's happening?"
Did he say that or me?
I'm scared. . . I panic. . . there's the sound of a heartbeat, real
this time. Loud and frantic in my ears.
"No, no. . . this is all wrong..help me!" I feel hands grip my
head, but they're not my hands, it's not my head. . . "Holy
Christ. . . Holy Christ. . . Help!"
{{Okay. . . easy. . . relax. Think.}} It's Chakotay's voice, steady
and calm. I close my eyes and he closes his too while we both concentrate
on calming ourselves.
{{It was a dream. Just a dream.}}
"It's not a dream. Trust me. . . this is no dream."
He tenses.
"Oh gods..what am I gonna do?"
Then I get an idea. I don't know if it is his idea or mine, but I think
it is worth a try. I think hard about where I was a moment ago.
Floating above him. Near the ceiling. And here I am. Looking down at him
and he is looking at me. I don't know whether to laugh, or cry or say
something smart. In the end I don't do anything.
He stares up at me for a long moment in silence and I find myself
wondering if he can even see me. Then he says my name.
"Tom."
I head for the far corner of the room! There's no way I am staying
that close when he starts calling my name again.
"Tom, Wait!"
Now I know he can see me anyway. I turn and look at him.
His dark eyes narrow. "How did you get here?"
"I never left, really. I can't. I. . . there's something I
hafta do."
"Harry."
I nod. "Harry."
"I can help. I think."
"I hope so. I'm tired, Chakotay. I need to go back."
He nods "Go back, and wait for me."
"OK." I smile, and I know now, it's gonna be ok,
Harry.
---
Tom Paris:
Chakotay has been gone for some time. I think. I can never keep track
of time passing here. But I feel I have been waiting a long time. I
don't know. I guess he has gone to get you, Harry. I hope he can make
this work. I hope things will be okay.
While I wait, I let my mind wander, thinking back over how things were
when I was living.
You know, we spend a whole lot of time, in life, worrying about death,
and how to avoid it.
Immunizations, special diets. . . all manner of things designed to hold
off that moment. . . in the end, that's all it is you know. Just a
moment, a breath, a step, from one life into another.
I wonder why we're so afraid of it? It didn't even hurt, Harry.
Well, sure the injuries I got in the fall hurt. I was human, I was
mortal. Yeah that fall hurt, but dying. . . taking the last fluttering
breath. . . that didn't hurt at all. I was kinda surprised.
I want to tell everyone not to be so afraid. Death is very overrated.
Instead of spending so much time worrying about dying, we should spend our
time living!
Gods, Harry, I wasted so much time worrying about staying alive, I forgot
how to really live.
---
I waken with the strange, half giddy sensation caused by being brought
'round with a stimulant. Blinking against the light in sick bay, I manage
to make out the faces of Commander Chakotay and the Doctor standing by
my side. I manage a weak smile and struggle to sit up.
Chakotay places a hand on my shoulder and nods to the doctor who walks
away. I look up at Chakotay to find his dark eyes searching mine.
"Harry, I have something to talk to you about. The Doctor has given
his permission," he says. I stare at him in silence. Something in his
tone tells me this is very important.
"It's about Tom."
For a moment hope springs up inside me. This has all been some terrible
dream. Tom isn't really dead. I have conjured up this whole nightmare
in my own subconscious. Even as I think it, I know, that it's not
true. Tom is dead, there is nothing that can change that fact.
"What about Tom?" I flinch away from it, but at the same time,
I want to know.
Chakotay sits down beside my bed. He takes hold of my hand in both his
own. I am mildly surprised by that action, but I don't pull away. He
begins to talk. Softly.
---
Tom Paris:
Pacing. I'm actually Pacing? gods, and I thought there was no
concept of time here. I don't know maybe it hasn't been that long,
but it feels like an eternity. No joke. It feels like I have been
waiting here forever.
What's happening in your world, Harry? I wish I knew. But he told
me to wait, and I guess right now, Chakotay is the one who knows how best
to handle things. I have to trust him. There is no-one else.
---
I pace to and fro in the sick bay. Chakotay gave up trying to hold me down,
I needed to get on my feet. I think better when I walk around. I can't
believe what he is telling me. Tom? Here? on the ship!
Well, maybe not Tom Tom, but a part of him. A precious part of him
and he's been trying to make contact with me!
"I knew! I told you. . . you remember. . . I told you that day when I hit
Dalby. I told you Tom was here."
"Yes, you did. I believed you. I believe you. I've seen Tom
myself." Chakotay is calm. A serene foil to my nervous energy.
"Can I see him? Talk to him?"
"It may be possible, but, Harry, it takes some special
preparations."
"Yes. Sure. Anything Commander. I'll do anything, but I just
have to see him." I crouch down in front of him and make eye contact.
"Please."
"All right. But, I wont mislead you. Tom Paris is dead, nothing can
make that go away, Harry. He is dead, and he will still be dead, even
after you see him. Understood?"
"Yeah. . . I understand." I understand too well, but he grips my
arm and shakes me gently.
"Look at me Harry. This is important. What we're doing is not
going to bring Tom back. What we're doing . . . it's going to. . .
set him free."
Staring into his eyes, I read the firm resolve in them. He is decided. I almost
shake my head, but I stop myself. I bite my lips. "Set him free?"
"He has to go, Harry. He is being held between worlds. It is not
right."
I feel tears flood to my eyes. "I can see him. . . but it means. . . I have
to let him go. That's what you're telling me?"
"I'm sorry." Chakotay nods. His dark eyes are full of
compassion and I feel my breath hitch as I struggle for composure.
"I. . . can't."
"You can. You feel that you can't, but if you love him, you
can."
Closing my eyes, I think about that for a long time. You know, Tom, that
I am not a strong man. I am not brave. Not like you. Not without you. It
was your love that made me strong, your belief in me that gave me courage.
Now, When I need your strength the most, I am alone. Oh gods, Tom.How
can I face this?
---
Tom Paris:
I feel the tugging and I know that you are thinking of me. I take a
step towards the small portal, wanting to go to you, feeling your pain
already, before I have even crossed over.
The fox appears out of nowhere and stands in front of me.
"Stay," she says. A quiet command, but one I find myself
unable to ignore. I stare into her wise dark eyes. "Stay. He must do
this himself. The decision must be his alone."
I sigh and step back, closing my eyes against the non existent tears.
Why can't I cry? I can feel. . . yet I can't cry. No tears will come.
{Please, Harry. You're strong, you can do this. You were the one who
made me brave, baby. You can face this, and you wont be alone, Chakotay
and I will be there.}
---
Finally, I draw a deep breath and look up into Chakotay's eyes.
"When?"
"He's waiting. Soon. There are some things I need to do first.
Some things you need to learn."
---
Tom Paris:
I'm not there in your world, but, I feel the decision. I know!
There is a sensation like. . . like. . . the unwinding of a coil. The Fox looks
towards the portal then back to me.
"He has chosen," she says softly. "He will
come."
---
For three days,
Chakotay takes me into his quarters. He got the Captain to give us both
leave, except if there is an emergency.
When he said there were things I had to learn, I didn't realize
exactly what was in store. Most of the time, he has spent, teaching me how
to meditate. And each time, he is with me, and he talks me through it
quietly. He keeps telling me to imagine a safe place and imagine myself
there. It took me a while to get that right, but it works now. I can easily
slip into this place. A field near where I grew up. A place where I spent a lot
of time. I like it here. It is quiet and restful. There are woods nearby.
On the third day he tells me to begin searching for someone. An animal he
says it will be.
I look, and Chakotay prays, and sometimes I think I am never going to
find this animal, this guide he speaks of. But I have to. Tom is depending
on me. I search.
I begin to despair. "I don't think I will ever find. . . " I
trail off mid sentence. There was a flicker of movement at the edge of the
field.
"Focus, Harry." his voice is soft, his words breathed out as he
maintains the trance. Your guide is there, I can sense her, but you are
the one who must call her to you.
I look towards where I saw that movement, and try to make my posture as
relaxed and unthreatening as possible.
A tawny flicker comes across the grass. I make myself stand still,
watching her. Trying to make out her form, I stare in amazement as this
incredible creature comes right to me. Her eyes are large and liquid
brown, she moves closer placing one neat hoof daintily in front of
another, her ears erect and pointed at me, her gentle face seeming to
welcome me. I reach out and touch her muzzle as she comes to stand in
front of me.
"Gods!" I whisper. "She's. . . beautiful."
"A fawn. . . " Chakotay's voice speaks beside me,
and for the first time in all our meditations, he is a visible presence.
He told me earlier, he could not come into this place until I found my guide.
"This is her? she is my guide?"
He smiles. "Yes."
"I can speak," she says, somewhat haughtily and Chakotay
laughs.
"Yes, you can. Forgive me." he says, his tone gently
respectful.
I look from Chakotay to the fawn and back. "What now?"
Chakotay smiles slightly. "Now you sleep."
"What?"
"You will come at the next sunrise," My guide says. "All
will be well."
"But. . . " I begin to protest but the fawn gently nudges me with
her nose.
"You come at the next sunrise. The time is important."
"She's right, Harry. We have to do this their way."
With a sigh, I bow my head. "All right," I say softly.
"For Tom."
"Good." Chakotay touches me gently on the shoulder and slowly,
the field, fades away and we are back in Chakotay's quarters, sitting
cross legged on the floor, face to face. I stare at him. "That
was. . . incredible."
"Yes." He doesn't say anything more. He doesn't need
to. He gets to his feet and offers me his hand. "You need to
rest."
I let him lead me into his room and I fall into bed, more exhausted than
I realized. He pulls a blanket over me and leaves, heading for his own,
temporary bed on the sofa. I am so tired, I forget to even feel bad about
taking over his bed before I drift to sleep.
I slept. I didn't think I would. But I woke when I heard Chakotay
moving around in the other room. I got up and walked out to sit at the
small table. He smiled at me. He asked me how I felt.
It's strange, since meeting the deer yesterday, I am strangely at
peace. Everything fits, somehow, though I don't know how it changed or
why.
I tell him I feel ok. He seems happy with that, offers me breakfast and I
realize that, for the first time. Today I am hungry. Truly hungry.
We eat, not speaking much, taking care of nutritional needs, each
occupied with his own thoughts. Soon, I know it will be "the next
sunrise," and we will meditate. . . I still don't know how I am
going to face this. I finish my meal and push the plate aside. Tom feels
very close this morning. A breath away.
---
Tom Paris:
Not quite a breath away, but close, yeah I am close, but there is an
invisible barrier now. I can see you, hear you, but I can't come to
you anymore. They say that I can't step past that boundary anymore.
They say the time to leave has come. I know they are right, but just one
last time, I need to be able to touch you. I watch you eating breakfast
with Chakotay and I know that you will be ok once I am gone, but I hope
too, that this idea of Chakotay's will work. Everything is depending
on it, Har.
It depends on you too. I hope that today, when you come to me, and we
meet for the last time, that you will be able to let me go. I can't
stay, Har, it's tearing me apart. I can'tstay and I can't go
unless you let me. Gods Har. I love you so much.
I move towards you, put my hands against the barrier that forever will
separate me from the living and watch you. I want to cry. But the tears
don't come.
---
We finish the breakfast Chakotay made and Chakotay moves away, sitting
down on the floor and taking his medicine bundle. He sets it on the floor
in front of him, and I watch as he unfolds the rawhide wrapping with such
reverence.
When all is ready he looks up and softly calls my name. I feel a small
shiver run through me. It is time.
In a dream, lightyears away from myself, I get up and move to sit,
crosslegged, facing Chakotay. He bows his head, we both close our eyes.
For a long time the only sound I am aware of is my own breath, and my
heavily beating heart. Soon though, even the fluttering rhythm of fear and
uncertainty fades away. I focus on my breath. In. . . out. . . life, spirit,
air, water, fire. . . the elements that make up existence, it is all like a
natural order, something I have always known on some level, but never,
until now, touched on a conscious level.
Slowly I become aware of sounds outside my own breathing. I hear
Chakotay's voice, soft and reverent, speaking the ancient words of the
meditation chant. My voice joins his as we call to the spirits of this
place to seek for us the one whom the wind calls, Paris.
---
Tom Paris:
I hear them speak my name, it is like a whisper, silvery, shimmering
on an autumn wind. Why is it autumn here when Chakotay speaks? I ask one
of those with me but she shakes her head and says it is not necessary to
know.
It might not be ncessary but I am still human enough to be curious.
The tugging comes pulling at some place inside me, I am compelled to move
closer to them. Chakotay, and not Harry is the focus as I walk towards
them, I think for a moment that this is strange, but the wolf says it is
right that this should be so. I nod and accept it.
The fox is there. And the fawn. Gentle creatures that bring peace and
comfort with them, a balance to the wild strength of the wolf. She is the
one who scares me most with her silver eyes and sharp features, and even
though I am scared of her, I know she would never harm me. Perhaps the
fear is a leftover from mortality. One of the few remnants I still
possess.
I stand behind Chakotay and close my eyes. They have explained to me
what will happen. I am scared, it wasn't the most pleasant experience
the first time. I wonder what it will be like this time.
"You will understand, and it will be easier this time."
I didn't speak the thought, but the fox has answered, her words in
my soul like honey to a raw throat. I meet her eyes and find peace.
"I'm ready."
---
"We call upon the spirits of this plane to seek for us, the soul of the
one whom the wind calls, Paris. . . ."
---
Chakotay:
I feel him there. It is like so many times before when I have called my
father, Kolopak, like and yet unlike, for this time we delve into a place
I have never been, this time not only do I call to speak with the soul of
one who has died. . . this time, I ask to give that soul myself. . . my being
and let him use it. I know there is a great risk involved and yet, I know
it is something I must do. I never questioned that.
The spirits would never have allowed our souls to meet if this was not
their will.
---
Harry Kim:
Eyes closed I pray. I call his name over and over. There is no fear,
there is an intense feeling of calm and peace. I know that Tom is here, I know
if I just look up I will see him. I hesitate for a moment, Chakotay's
voice falters and stops and suddenly the field appears, I open my eyes and
stare in wonder at the sight that meets my gaze.
Tom is there, Chakotay is here too, but I can't see him.
On either side of Tom stands a being, radiant, beautiful. . . I hardly dare
to look at them, they have the form of the deer and the fox, but there is
so much more to them than I noticed before.
For a moment, terror grips my heart.
"Harry." Tom says. It's him. . . oh gods, it really is him. I
can't speak. I can't move I stare at him and I feel tears roll
down my cheeks.
{{Tom! oh Tom!}}
---
Tom Paris:
For a moment, I am stunned. I feel alive. I feel. . . gods I don't
know what I feel, I lift a hand to my face to touch the moisture there.
Weird. . . tears. . .
Looking at Harry I notice the same wetness on his cheeks too. Oh God
can this really be possible? I take a hesitant step forward. Then
another. . . I expect the barrier to stop me and when it doesn't I break
into a run. I reach for him, sweep him into my arms.
"Harry! Harry!!" Pull him close. Hold him. Bury my face in
his sweet smelling hair and hold him. "Harry."
---
Harry Kim:
It's joy. . . unspeakable, unimaginable. I can't describe it. He
holds me close and murmurs my name. It is what I have longed for in the
long long nights since we were parted on that mountain. I cling to him and
sob, feel him shaking too with his tears as he holds me. Blindly we seek
each other out, past seeing, past thought as our lips meet in a kiss,
tender and passionate. His mouth, sweet and warm on mine, sealing the
promise of an eternal love. I kiss him back, giving myself to him in a way
I never had before.
---
Tom Paris:
His mouth is as sweet and responsive as I remembered, he is warm and
soft and alive, gods. . . I had forgotten so quickly, the sensation of touch,
the utter joy of it. I wonder, fleetingly if I will ever feel anything
again after today, but I push that away.
I pull back and stare into his eyes. My fingers gently trace every
feature, committing it to memory. I smile through my tears.
"I love you." I whisper the words and watch the expression
that flickers across his face. "I know." I read the pain in his
eyes. "I know. . . I forgot to say it. . . I had to stay and let you know,
Har. I love you. . . so much. You didn't think I would go without telling
you that?"
---
Harry Kim:
"I'm so sorry, Tom." reaching up, I brush the tears away
from his beautiful eyes. "I had no right to hold you."I look at
him, studying him, I notice the tiredness in his face. I know you have to
go, Tom. I know I can't keep you here, but I needed you to say
goodbye. . . to be able to let you go. I love you too, and I know I have to
let you go now."
He smiles and the tiredness and strain seems to drain away, he looks at
me with eyes so sharp and clear, suddenly I know that he is free. The
distant look is there as he looks up towards the sky, but somehow, this
time, that look doesn't scare me. He returns his gaze to my face and I
see the hesitation that flickers in the depths of his eyes.
"It's ok, Tom. I want you to be free. I'll. . . be ok. I know
now that you're not that far away. I love you."
---
Tom Paris:
I take him in my arms again. I draw him close and touch my lips to his
one last time.
The tugging is there, insistent and impossible to ignore. The fox
calls softly and says it is time.
I hold him, hold him. . . but I can feel him fading away, there is an
imperious tug and I am free, floating in the air, behind the barrier
watching two men, mortal men, clinging to each other, their lips locked in
a sweet, passionate kiss, their faces wet with mortal tears.
One older, one young, two dark heads, close together, arms clinging,
holding each other close. I know them, I know the wind calls them by name,
but right now, my mind won't let me recall those names. But I know I
love them both. One because he was my mate in life, and the other because
he made me the most beautiful gift I could ever ask of anyone and he made
it without my having to ask.
I watch them, but they are even now fading from my sight, the
light. . . all pervading, pure light dazzles and I can no longer see.
High above me, a bright sun blazes and down here there is a cool
breeze, and autumn leaves and everything is timeless, like slow motion.
I am free and they are a distant memory. I am told that I will see
them come. It's not important when. I am free. Time has set me free.
---
End
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