by Nikita
---
Disclaimer: Star Trek and all characters, technology, plots, etc. belong to
Paramount. This Fanfic is for entertainment only, no profit is being made on it.
Warning: Slash. This means m/m romance, relationship, sex. Reader
Discretion advised.
---
I never expected this. I suppose that's rather stupid of me. I
'should' have expected it. Murphy's Law: Whatever
'can' go wrong, 'will' go wrong. Maybe they should
rename it after me. That's what it seemed like for so many years of my
life.
I've fucked up everything I've ever touched. My career, my life,
my freedom - and of course, my relationships. I messed up everything I
ever cared for. Which is why when I got a second chance with my career and
freedom, I swore I wouldn't ask for more. It was just too much to hope
for that I'd manage to swing a relationship, too. Just too much. Why
put more on my plate? No way I could juggle it all. So I focused on my job
and my new friends and decided to have a bit of fun on the side. Nothing
serious.
Well, life never works out the way you expect it to. I fell in love. Oh,
not all at once. We were friends, nothing more.
He was such a naïve young ensign. Fresh from the Academy and
gullible as could be. I stepped in and helped him because even a jaded man
like me can recognize and want to preserve innocence like that. Even if it
is doomed.
And when he stuck by me when everyone else warned him off - at first I
wrote it off as that naïve innocence once again. But I was wrong. He
was trusting and he was loyal - but it was a sense of fairness and belief
in second chances that made him stick it out with me. I've done my
best to prove him right.
So we became friends. Good friends. The kind you want next to you when
the chips are down and you need someone to watch your back. Harry grew -
losing a lot of that innocence and naivety, but never losing his faith -
or his goodness.
I'm not sure 'when' I fell in love with him. Maybe it was
there from the beginning. Maybe it grew through friendship over the years.
But it was only tonight that I finally realized it. When I saw him bathed
in starlight - looking out at the stars from the view port - lights out in
the observation deck. He looked so lost - yet so lovely. I had hunted him
down to cheer him up - take him to play a round of pool and buy him a
drink, instead I walked up next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He
turned to me in surprise and then grabbed my hand in a crushing grip. He
began to cry and I felt my own heart breaking. . .
If there's one thing I never wanted. . . I never wanted to see him
look so broken. And at the same time I was so grateful that he would share
this with me. Let me see him break and let me hold him.
And I held him as long as he let me - until he pushed me away. I
didn't want to leave, but I couldn't ignore his wishes, either. I
left him alone, to face his demons and I can't help but feel I fucked
it up. Fucked up our friendship in that moment. Let him see something he
didn't want to see.
I sit in my quarters, sipping my contraband alcohol and wonder if
he'll comm me tonight. If he'll even want to see me tomorrow.
I stare at my open med kit. I've been using it so often lately; I no
longer put it away. There's no telling when Harry might need my help
and he prefers it when I help him, rather than going to sickbay for every
little flare up. I'm careful to always note his readings and the doc
and I consult after each incident.
Sighing, I check the kit over, making sure everything's in its place
before closing it up and returning to my drink.
I finally realize I'm in love and I manage to screw it up before I
even started. When will I learn. I only hope that Harry will forgive it
and let me continue to help. I'd do anything for him - give him
anything. I love him. I love him. . .
---
I'm exhausted as I lay down on my bed, pillows propping me up in the
position that makes it easiest to breathe and replay what happened in my
head. . .
Tom's hands were so gentle. Something I knew in an abstract way, but
never really experienced for myself. Sure, he'd thrown his arm around
me in companionship and camaraderie. And sure, he'd lent a helping
hand here and there. But a gentle caress, a simple touch of his fingertips
to my face, wiping away tears - it's something I had never hoped to
feel.
And to have it then. . . it was heaven and hell.
I'm dying.
The doc says he's doing everything he can - but I know there is
little to no hope left. It's been a long five months. Ever since that
little 'prick' of a thorn in my thigh as I brushed against a bush
accidentally on an away mission I've been dying. It was a sneaky
little poison - seemed to be treatable at first and responded to the
doc's medicines, but soon mutated. And has been ever since. Very
adaptable, ruthless and utterly efficient product of nature.
And it's killing me.
My world revolves around sickbay and my quarters these days. At first I
stayed on duty - needing the distraction and sense of purpose to get
through the day. I would NOT let it beat me.
But it has. I'm no longer well enough to do my job. My concentration
is shot and my hands tremble at inopportune moments.
He held me close tonight, murmuring into my hair. I wanted to know what
he's saying and yet I didn't dare listen.
It's too late.
I couldn't do this. Not now.
"Tom," I pushed away from him and huddled against the wall,
"I'm fine, thanks." He looked so hurt, I regretted pushing
him away; I couldn't stand the look on his face.
"Harry. . . " he reached a hand out to me, but then let it
drop. He didn't know what to say.
No one does anymore. B'Elanna can't look me in the eye anymore.
The captain tries, but she doesn't have the words and everyone else -
it's a struggle to think of a neutral thing to say to me anymore.
Tom's been the only one who could talk to me normally these past few
months. Always there. Sometimes cheerful - bringing me out of the dumps,
or sometimes solemn and listening to me rage. . . He's bore the brunt
of my emotional roller coaster and it was only fitting that he was here
for the first time I let myself cry. It was fitting - but I couldn't
stand it. And the fact that he was finally unsure of what to do or say. .
. it was frightening. A sign that the end is nearing.
What will I do when I can no longer cling to him? And I shouldn't -
it isn't fair to him. Hell, the last five months have been unfair to
him - stuck in my little hell.
And his touch. . . did it mean what I hoped it meant? Or maybe it was
pity . . .
"I need - I want to be alone just now, Tom. . . " I said
apologetically. He nodded, but leant in to kiss my forehead once before
leaving.
"I'll be in my quarters if you need me, Harry."
"I'll be in my quarters if you need me, Harry."
The doors had slid shut behind him as I slid down the wall until I was sitting
on the floor.
The only thing that I could think then and the only thing I can tell myself
now is: it's not real.
And even if it is - it's too late.
---
End
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