The BLTS Archive- Old Dreams

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Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry, B'Elanna, Tom, the Holodeck or
anything else here, they're all Paramount's. (But what fun we could
have if I did own them...)

Rating:  This is purely fluff, and G rated fluff at that! There *is*
implied m/m relationships, so if that doesn't tickle your fancy, go
read something else since this little piece, tame as it is, isn't for
you.

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Not so very long ago, he used to sit next to me like that; pressed
close with our shoulders just touching, his face turned to mine so he
could watch me speak and listen to every word I said. We were so close
I could smell his cologne mixed with the indescribable musky scent of
Tom Paris. No one smells like he does. His face would be next to mine,
I could see the laugh lines at the corner of his mouth and the grey
flecks that sparkled in his otherwise sky-blue eyes.

Now he sits with her and I sit on the other side of the Holodeck,
alone. He didn't even look at me when he walked inside.

I sound bitter and that's so unlike me. I've always been the one to
see the glass half full. Ever since I was a child, I was the big
brother who could make Bethanie laugh, or the little brother who could
melt Lizzie's heart. It was my unofficial role in the family, making
sure everyone was cheerful. It was so easy to slip into that role
again here with the new adopted family Voyager provided, cheering Tom
up whenever he was down. Only this time, a smile from Tom wasn't just
a simple gesture, it was the highlight of my day.

Making Tom smile became a fixation. If it meant acting a little more
stuffy than I normally would, just to see that look of pained
amusement cross his face, or if it meant remembering every single
chirpy clarinet piece I've ever played, just to play for him, then the
smile he gave me would be worth it. I used to live for that smile.

I still do.

When he first arrived on Voyager, Tom looked so unhappy. I know he was
having nightmares, but he wouldn't let me close enough to comfort him
the way I really wanted to. If only he'd look at me as something more
than a friend, not just a buddy to hang around with and to take his
mind off more important matters.

I know that's not really all I was to him; I was his first and most
important friend. I was the one who stuck by him when everyone else
wanted nothing to do with the 'prison scum'. Tom needed me then. I was
more than just a buddy, I was more than a friend, but I was still not
as much as I needed to be.

I'm really beginning to hate that word. *Was*. A word so full of
regrets and slowly dying dreams. I try to be happy for him, to let the
warm glow his smile gives me be enough... But sometimes it's just so
hard to ignore the tightness in your chest and the burn in your heart
that won't leave you alone, no matter what you do or how much you cry.

It used to be easier when it was the two of us. I can't say I ever
really believed it would be more than what it was. But when we were
alone, it was still easier to pretend. From the first moment I met him
he was my everything.

It was in a shitty little bar on Deep Space Nine owned by a Ferengi
whose name I can't remember. I was in way over my head and he came to
my rescue like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment he
appeared I couldn't take my eyes off him. Love at first sight, or so
the saying goes.

I guess it really was infatuation that first day, he was so good
looking, so confident and sure of himself. At least that's how he
appeared. And I had a girlfriend back at home that I had no intention
of being unfaithful to.

Then things changed. I got to know the real Tom Paris, the one behind
the mask he wears for the crew. I found out about his past and still I
refused to lose faith in him. Perhaps I should have known then that it
was more than friendship and a healthy dose of lust.

When we first got lost in this backwater corner of the galaxy I had
him all to myself for a little heavenly while. Despite all the pain
and grief those first few months on Voyager brought, they were still
some of the happiest times of my life. I had Tom and he had me and I
could look at him without aching to touch him and wanting to scream
with the knowledge that I couldn't.

Then things changed. I changed. My priorities shifted to Tom, always
Tom.

I'd give up my life for him and it's all for purely selfish reasons. I
couldn't live without him, I wouldn't be able to make myself go on if
he wasn't alive. And so if it came down to a choice, I'd exchange my
life for his in an instant.

I kept him alive in the Akritarian prison by prostituting myself. I
used to shy away from thinking about that simple fact, the memories
that can still make me feel like I'll never be clean, never wash away
the sickly smell of stale sweat and semen. But for him I'd do it all
over again if it meant his life.

Would she do the same?

It hurts to watch them together but I do so anyway. Gods it hurts so
much and there's not a damn thing I can do about it, simply because it
matters to me more that he's happy than that I am.

He has B'Elanna now and I've never seen him so relaxed and carefree. I
never would have guessed it when we first came on board. She couldn't
stand him; I was the one mediating their childish bickering through
meals of inedible Lunch a la Neelix or pool matches at Sandrines. When
they first started spending so much time together I tried to ignore
the jealousy, but now it breeds inside me like some hideous parasite.
I look at B'Elanna and I hate her, even though she's my friend,
because she has Tom's heart and that's something I want so badly, yet
can never have.

If only we weren't stuck out here in no man's land. There are only so
many people on the ship. I've met every single one of them and none of
them captured my heart, mind and body the way Tom did in just one
meeting. If we were at home, I could leave, apply for a transfer and
get the hell away from Tom Paris. Instead I'm stuck on this damn ship
for god only knows how long, stuck on the same duty shift, on the same
bridge crew, the same senior staff. Seeing him each day is like being
rubbed over with sandpaper, and the worst of it is, he's totally
oblivious.

When he looks at me, what does he see? Good old Harry Kim? His buddy
who'll never let him down, who'll play pool at all hours of the night
and laugh at his bad jokes? Does he even see me at all anymore?

They're leaving now, together, hand in hand. I can't watch him kiss
her, I can't stop the images that haunt me of the two of them...
together. It should be me, I need it to be me!

---

They didn't notice the fact that the beach resort was empty apart from
the solitary figure near the bar, too absorbed in each other to
notice, or to care.

"Computer, run program Paris Omega."

It's pathetic really, but the program Tom no longer seems to care
about is the one that I can't leave behind. It was his baby, and now
it's my only peace.

"Harry? Mon petit?"

Sandrine, with her French charm and a glass of holographic wine. Just
like always.

"You are here alone once again?" she asks. "Where is Thomas?" Her
smile is gentle, curious, and I can't help but smile at her.

"Tom won't be coming to Sandrine's any longer." I say, and for the
first time I accept that as the truth.

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The End