The BLTS Archive - Roadways
#3: Byways
by Maisie (maisierita@comcast.net)

---

copyright 1999

Disclaimer: Hail to the almighty Paramount!

Warning: Angst and a teeny bit of foul language

Feedback: Pretty, pretty please.

---

If there is a worse hell than this, I'm having trouble envisioning it.

They found out about him.

I don't know how. God knows that Tom is at least as discreet as I am,
maybe more so. I know he never uses his real name, never goes anywhere
where he might stand a chance of meeting someone he might run into
again, never even tells the name of the ship he's from.

And yet somehow, some way, they found out about him.

B'Elanna broke nearly every bone in his body. He was in Sickbay for
over a week -- half the time of her confinement to the brig -- and by
the time he was released to his quarters, every facet of his life had
been irreparably damaged.

I was there when Kathryn took away his field commission. Dishonorable
discharge, for "conduct unbecoming to a Starfleet officer". Tom stood
at parade rest the whole time, staring at some point far above her
head, eyes never flickering, not even when she asked him to remove his
ensigns' pip and place it on the desk. She asked him for it because to
take it off herself she'd have had to touch him.

I was also there later that night in the Mess Hall when he
accidentally brushed up against Harry while getting his dinner. I've
never seen Harry move so fast.

Tom silently moved away before apologizing. "Sorry."

Fear and anger tore across Harry's face. "Get away from me."

"Harry-"

"Get *away* from me. People are already looking at me funny."

Tom's voice, when he spoke, was filled with a weary resignation that
broke my heart. "It's not contagious, Harry."

"Like hell it isn't. How could you *do* this to me?"

For an instant, a flicker of indignation crossed Tom's face. "I didn't
do anything to you. I thought we were friends-"

The revulsion in Harry's eyes carried clear across the room. "We
wouldn't have been if I'd known you were queer."

"Harry, please-"

"Just stay away from me, Paris." With that, Harry gathered up his tray
and left.

Neelix eyed Tom sympathetically from across the counter. "For an
enlightened civilization, the Federation can be terribly backwards at
times."

Tom shrugged and looked down at his tray. "You know, I'm not really
very hungry right now. Maybe I'll just skip dinner."

Neelix's voice was unexpectedly firm. "Don't let them win, Tom."

Tom just shook his head. "They've already won. It's over, Neelix."

"You still need to eat," Neelix said gently.

Tom frowned, conceding the point. "I'll just take it to my quarters."

I watched him go, standing silently to the side as he passed by. He
didn't so much as glance in my direction. I wondered if he thought I'd
betrayed him after all. I wanted desperately to follow him to his
quarters, just to talk to him and offer him what limited help and
support I could. But of course, I didn't go after him. I was then, and
still am, too much of a coward.

I only found out later that when Tom got back to his quarters he found
them ruined: excrement smeared on the walls and everything he owned
smashed, burned, or shredded. According to Seven of Nine, it took the
three of them -- Seven, Neelix, and Tom -- nearly ten hours to get his
quarters habitable again.

I should have been there. I should have helped them clean. But I
didn't.

I didn't talk to him at all. I couldn't risk it. To be seen talking to
him was to be tainted; only Neelix and Seven were bold enough to do
it. Neelix because the Talaxians thought homosexuality was quite
normal, and Seven because she couldn't have cared less what anyone
else thought. Tom was her friend, and that's all that mattered to her.

I finally talked to him only after another week had passed, when the
most recent assault left him with bruises bad enough that he couldn't
fix them himself with the regenerator in his cabin. I went to Sickbay
to see him, cursing the fact that we weren't alone, couldn't risk
being alone, cursing myself for not having the guts to stand up to the
cretins on board this ship and tell them to fuck off.

"Paris." I wondered if he could hear the concern under the cold, even
tones of my voice.

"Commander." He was staring at the far wall of Sickbay, and didn't
look at me.

I had no idea what to say, and settled on formalities. "Do you want to
file charges?"

"Why bother? Janeway won't prosecute."

"I could. As First Officer, I have the authority to call for a trial."

He sighed wearily. "Don't do me any favors, Commander. Someone might
think you're a fag-lover."

I couldn't be sure if there was an accusation hidden in there or not,
but what could I say? There were other people in Sickbay who weren't
even pretending not to listen. So I kept it business. "No charges,
then?"

"No."

There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do. I left him sitting
there, staring at the same spot on the wall, and cursed myself as a
coward to every hell I could think of. But somehow, I didn't think
even the damned would have accepted my company.

---

The End