by Nikita
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Author's Notes: Third in series. Comes after 'Too Little, Too Late' and 'Losing My Religion' Thanks to everyone that gave such wonderful feedback and encouragement in the first two . . .
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One month later. . .

It happened.

It finally happened - Harry is cured. The doc swears up and down that the poison is finally licked. No trace of it in his bloodstream. No new mutations. Nothing.

I was so damn happy to hear it, that I picked him up and swung him around. He's so thin it was rather easy. He didn't smile, though. He's stunned and I just don't think it's sunk in yet. I took him to the holodec to celebrate - the crowd got so large that we spilled out into the hall until the captain finally decided to clear one of the cargo bays for us to party in.

Wonderful. Simply wonderful news.

---

An antidote that finally worked. I'm cured.

The doc is quite pleased with himself - he knew he could beat it, he says. Tom's beside himself. The Captain and the rest of the crew are exultant. Everyone's congratulating me in the halls, in the mess hall and even on the bridge.

My hands no longer shake, the headaches are gone . . . the pain I learned to live with is suddenly absent . . . I should be happy. I should be thrilled. I should be dancing in the hallways, grabbing people and hugging them.

But instead, I sit in my quarters and stare into space.
---

The door is chiming again. When will Tom get the idea? I don't want to go out. I don't want company. And I definitely do not want to see him.

This last thought strikes me as terribly selfish and cruel. After all he did for me during my illness and after years of friendship - this is how I'm going to repay him?

I sigh and go to the door. The very least I can do is give him an excuse and let him know it's not personal. I just want to be alone.

I press the control panel and release my privacy lock. Tom suddenly smiles as he sees my face; I guess he was getting a bit miffed at my lack of answer.

"Finally! Did I catch you in the shower?" He pushes past me and into my quarters before I can even protest. I see him take the state of my quarters in with one sweep of his gaze.

"Geez, Har. Maid's day off?" He tosses a uniform top off of the couch and sits down.

"You're one to talk - your quarters are never clean. I just haven't gotten around to straightening up yet." I move to pick up the top he tossed, but then change my mind and plop down on the couch next to him. Why bother?

Tom notices this and gives me a funny look. "Well, yeah, but that's me - you're the neatnik. Are you feeling all right?" He leans over to touch my forehead and I jerk back from the contact.

"I'm fine, Tom. What did you want?" I ask brusquely. He drops his hand with a crestfallen expression and I have to steel myself from apologizing.

"Haven't seen you around the holodec lately. I thought maybe you'd like some company." He's pulled on a cheerful expression again and it irritates me somehow.

"Not really. I'm kind of tired."

He glances around my quarters again before nodding. "Okay. I don't want to bug you - I guess I'll go play some pool. If you change your mind . . ."

I nod, feeling relieved. "Sure. Bye . . . "
---

Two months since he's been cured and Harry's still moping around in his quarters. I didn't understand at first - the man had just been given a reprieve - another chance at life. I thought he'd be happy. Jumping for joy -going on dates and playing pool with his buddies. Living life to the fullest and all that. That's how I'd act, you know. Probably wouldn't sleep for a month after all those months stuck in sickbay and quarters.

It was only after I mentioned all this to the doc that I understood - or thought I understood.

"You'll have to give him some time, Lieutenant. Ensign Kim has been through a long extended illness, which was nearly terminal. Such patients often have trouble returning to normal life after such an ordeal. They often act in uncharacteristic ways. Some might act as you mentioned: partying hard and making up for lost time in excessive ways such as drinking or sexual encounters. This isn't necessarily healthy behavior, you understand, Mr. Paris, but a possible manifestation of depression . . .

"Others, however, might suffer from depression in more obvious ways: isolation, frequent tiredness . . . the inability to enjoy their return to health. He might be more aware of his mortality, more wary of taking risks . . . I've offered Ensign Kim counseling if he should wish it, but his behavior on-duty has been exemplary so it is a personal decision and I intend to respect it."

I thought about what the doc said and I remembered how I'd acted in the past. When I'd been kicked out of Starfleet . . . when I'd been in prison and even after I'd come to Voyager and I realized that the doc was right. I 'had' been depressed and I'd acted the opposite of Harry, yet I, too, had suffered from depression. It had taken me a long time to get over that. Mostly with the help of Harry and other friends I'd made on Voyager.

So, I tried to be more understanding. Gave Harry the space he felt he needed while still being there for him, offering my shoulder or company should he need it.

And it worked . . . seemingly, for a time. He thanked me gratefully for the space and crawled back into his little hole to heal.

And I waited.

But after two months of barely seeing Harry outside of the job, I was getting worried.
---

It was B'El that finally broke through the awkward 'silence' surrounding Harry. After he'd turned down our company for the nth time in favor of his quarters, she'd finally blown a fuse.

"Just what is it about your quarters that is so damned interesting, Starfleet?! You never want to do anything with us anymore. We're your friends - or at least I thought we were."

Harry just stood there staring at us - shocked. There was a small concert scheduled on the planet we were orbiting in honor of our visit, and the captain who was interested in trading with the seemingly peaceful people, had agreed that several crewmembers would attend the concert.

B'El and I had been sure that Harry would at least come out of his quarters for a chance to listen to music. This is Harry we're talking about.

But then again, this is the Recluse Harry we're talking about. The one that doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with his friends or any of life's pleasures that requires leaving his damned cabin.

"I'm not . . . I'm just not feeling up to it, that's all." Harry seems stricken at her anger, but I still detect a stubborn gleam in his eyes. He isn't budging.

"If you're feeling sick you should go to sickbay - do you want us to walk you there?" B'El's had enough and she's calling his bluff, I wisely stay silent behind her.

Harry sighs with exasperation and throws his hands in the air. "I'm just tired and I don't feel like going down to the planet - is that a crime?!"

"You're lying to your friends, hiding in your cabin, and acting like a martyr! Why do you-" I put a hand on her shoulder and she snaps her face around to confront me. I don't relish the idea of facing an enraged half-Klingon, but she's about pound Harry to the ground and I don't think he's ready for that yet.

"B'Elanna, give the guy a break - he doesn't feel like going. Why don't you go on down and I'll stay here with him and keep him company since he's too tired."

Harry opens his mouth to protest that and I turn to him and give him MY glare. He's wise enough to close his mouth and simply nod. B'Elanna glares at me and then at Harry, but finally huffs and leaves.

I step into Harry's cabin before he has the chance to close the door and make my way to his couch. He hasn't picked up since I was here last, any messier and he'll be classified a hazard. I wonder if even Tuvok is giving Harry some space, surely this cabin couldn't have passed the last shipwide inspection last month?

"I really am tired, Tom. I was going to take a nap and-"

"Save it, Harry. If you really feel you need a nap then I'm going to insist you go to sickbay for a check up like B'El threatened. All you ever seem to do off hours is sleep - park your butt over here." I pat the cushion next to him and he grimaces, but obeys.

"What?" he all but whines. I watch him quietly as he fidgets. When he seems ready to start arguing with me again I finally speak.

"Now you tell me what's wrong. What's going on in that head of yours, Harry? You don't talk to me anymore."

He shrugs and stares at a pile of uniforms on the floor across the room. I sit and wait . . . I can be patient when I want to be.

"Nothing . . . nothing's going on. I'm tired. Sick and tired of you and everyone else on this ship sticking their nose in my business."

"We're concerned, Harry. You're not acting like yourself. Ever since your illness-"

Harry's eyes glint with anger as he finally turns to look at me. "Illness! I'm sick and tired of talking about my 'illness' . . .my little 'episode'! I'm fine! Just fine."

I'm a bit hesitant now after his venom, but I still try to reach him. "No one thinks it was just a 'little episode' Harry. We know you almost died. It would be hard for anyone-"

"You don't know, Tom . . . Yes, you've faced death before. We all have on this ship, but this was different - it's different to KNOW you're going to die. Slowly . . . painfully . . . and to know it doesn't mean a thing. You aren't saving anyone. You aren't doing it to save the ship . . . You're just dying because of a stupid accident. And you watch everyone tiptoe around you . . . afraid to say anything. Afraid to let it slip that I'm going to die . . . that they don't know what to say . . . I hated it. I still hate it. But then . . . the doc just whips up a cure and suddenly - ta da! I'm saved. And everyone's thrilled . . . so happy and relieved. And they expect me to suddenly be happy and forget - FORGET - what happened and move on with my life."

His voice is cracked and tears are running unchecked down his cheeks, but he wipes them away angrily. I want to touch him - comfort him, but I can tell he doesn't want it . . . not yet.

"I wrote my will . . . made a goodbye holo for my parents and the crew . . . I made one for you. I said my goodbyes . . . tried to make my peace . . . " he tries to continue, but the tears are choking him. I'm stunned to think of him filling out a will and making those holos . . . when did he have the time? He was so sick and frail at the end . . . the idea of him summoning up enough energy to do all that . . . and he didn't ask me for any help.

His sobs grow louder as he hunches over, arms folded over his midriff. I reach out cautiously and pull him to me. He suddenly reaches up and grabs onto me like I'm a life preserver as he rides out the storm. I hold him tighter and close my eyes, breathing in his smell and feeling his warmth. It's been so long since he let me this close . . . I remember that night in the observation deck when I touched him and dried his tears. I had been so worried I'd ruined everything when he pushed me away. I'd done my best to follow his wishes and stay away . . . give him the space he needed.

But now as I hold him once more and feel each sob shudder through him . . . I know my biggest mistake was letting him go in the first place . . .

As he finally calms down and he takes a ragged deep breath, I rub circles on his back and let him know I'm still here. He lifts his head and I tighten my grip on his shoulders . . . he isn't pushing me away again.

"Tom? Why are you here? Why do you put up with me like this?"

His voice is so soft and broken, but I find myself falling into those beautiful dark eyes for what seems like forever. I let one hand leave his shoulder and I wipe tears off of his soft cheek.

"Because I love you."

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End