The BLTS Archive - Bar Time
by Reanne Moreau (reannem1@att.net)

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ARCHIVE: Anyplace, just leave my name on it.

This takes place sometime near the end of the sixth season.
There may be a sequel or two, which will completely ignore the
horrible P/T seventh season.

WARNING: Spoilers for any episode involving Fairhaven.

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Sandrine's was no longer the 'in' place to hang out. It had been
eclipsed, first by the tropical resort, then by Sullivan's in the
Fairhaven program. People still came to Sandrine's: lovers looking for
a quiet romantic spot, people tired from a long day who didn't feel
like coping with a crowd, melancholy souls who only wanted to brood
into their beer and feel sorry for themselves.

Tom considered himself one of the latter as he surveyed the bar,
taking note of the usual suspects. He came here when things were going
to hell with B'Elanna and he needed refuge. He'd been spending a lot
of time here lately.

There was another patron who was becoming a regular. Kathryn Janeway
was rarely seen in Fairhaven these days. She preferred to spend her
time at Sandrine's. Usually, the captain nodded a greeting to anyone
she passed and headed for a table near the fireplace. There was an air
about her that said she wanted to be let alone, and the other
customers respected her wishes. Sometimes she brought a PADD along and
read. Sometimes, but rarely, she scraped together a game of pool. Most
of the time she just stared into the flames, thinking her own thoughts
- as she was doing tonight. She looked up as Tom's shadow fell over
her.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"You'd be wasting your money." A slight smile curved her lips, giving
Tom the courage to take a seat across the table from his captain. He
hadn't invaded her privacy before, sensing that she wouldn't welcome
company, but she didn't seem to object tonight.

"I haven't seen you in Fairhaven lately," he remarked casually.
"Michael has been asking about you." The only reply was a frown. Tom
wasn't really in the mood for this tonight, but he was here, she was
here, and they had to do something about the situation eventually. He
sounded more irritated than he'd intended when he spoke.

"Look, Captain, either you're going to have to straighten things out
with Michael yourself or give me permission to change his program.
He's badgering everybody about why you haven't been to see him lately
and it's beginning to annoy people."

Kathryn closed her eyes and sighed. "It's hard to remember sometimes
that he's not sentient." She received a sympathetic glance from the
helmsman. She would hardly be the first person to develop feelings for
a too-accurate simulation of a person.

"Captain, if that's your problem ..."

A hand waved him to silence. "It's just the opposite." She raised her
eyes to Tom's. "Have you ever been able to tell someone's looking at
you without being able to see them?"

"All the time. On the bridge I can tell when you're looking at me or
just staring at the view screen - it's like you're focusing a laser
beam on the back of my head." He leaned forward conspiratorially and
grinned. "Tuvok doesn't believe it, but I can tell when you're
smiling."

She was smiling now, her chin propped in one hand. "Tuvok is an old
stick-in-the-mud, even for a Vulcan. I've been telling him so for
years."

Tom snorted and stifled a laugh. If anyone had the guts to say
something like that to a Vulcan, it was his captain. Kathryn's smile
dimmed and became wistful.

"You've written a wonderful program, Tom. Maybe too good. I find
myself getting lost in the fantasy, then something will happen to
remind me that it's not real. I'll turn around and find that Michael
has been standing there, watching me, but I never felt his presence.
Or I'll look into his eyes and there's no-one inside." She broke off,
looking back at the flames, afraid she had revealed too much. She
didn't often discuss her personal problems with the crew, but it was
so easy to talk to Tom.

There was a knot in Tom Paris' stomach. Kathryn sounded so lonely. He
really was glad that Michael had provided a temporary distraction. The
fact that it made him sick to think about the hologram actually
touching her was consigned to a dark corner of his mind, where things
were kept that shouldn't be examined too closely.

After a moment Kathryn turned back to her companion. "Maybe it would
be better if you deleted the character altogether." She was surprised
when Tom shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"If you don't mind, Captain, I'd rather not be the one to do it.. It
wouldn't seem right, somehow." He responded to her raised eyebrow with
a seemingly irrelevant question. "Did you ever meet my grandmother
Paris?"

"No. She died before I started at the Academy and I never met her
socially. Of course we ran simulations of her most important battles
in class."

The look on the captain's face said that she had no idea what this was
all about. Everyone in Starfleet had heard of Admiral Miranda Paris.
Ruthless and cunning in battle, she was known for turning a hopeless
situation into victory out of sheer determination - and for the number
of times she nearly got herself killed doing so. She was also a famous
beauty, whose honey blond hair, hour-glass figure and pale blue eyes
had attracted many lovers, most of whom became good friends. There
had, however, been something of a scandal when she refused to identify
the father of her only child, even to her son. She was an easy-going
eccentric who had little use for protocol, yet no-one under her
command had any doubt who was in charge. The Admiral had started out
as a pilot and died testing a prototype space craft whose warp core
had become unstable. Tom couldn't help grinning just thinking about
her.

"Grandma was probably the least stuffy person I've ever met. I think
she was pretty appalled by my father with all his talk about the
dignity of the family name. She kept a picture on the wall of her
office of the earliest traceable Paris ancestors. They were a couple
of Irish tavern keepers named Michael and Mary Sullivan. She said it
was to counteract the effects of all that saluting."

Kathryn stared at him with wide eyed astonishment. Finally she slumped
back into the armchair and closed her eyes. "I deleted your several
times great grandmother."

"Yep."

"Why the hell didn't you *say* something?"

"Like what? 'By the way, that's my grandfather you just picked up in
the bar?' Look, I agree that he has to go, I just don't want to be the
one who does it. I know it's silly - he's just a hologram."

Kathryn shook her head. "It's no sillier than thinking I was in love
with him." She contemplated her companion's face, wondering how she
could have missed the resemblance. And Michael's attitude was pure
Paris. She blushed, realizing that the changes she implemented only
made the hologram more like a certain pilot.

"Alright, Tom, I'll delete the character myself.." She raised pleading
eyes to his face. "I want to see him one last time. Will you come with
me?"

He nodded and rose from his chair, gesturing her toward the door.
"After you, Grandma."

---

It was the middle of the night in Fairhaven, well after bar time, but
a light still glowed in the windows facing the street. Kathryn
ascended the stairs, pausing in the door for a moment. Looking over
her shoulder she could see Tom leaning against a lamp post, a
comforting presence in the near dark.

"Michael."

He turned from stacking chairs on the tables. His face lit for a
moment before a frown descended.

"Katie. Or should I call you Captain? It was kind of you to take time
from your busy schedule to drop in."

How could she not have noticed that the shape of his face was so like
Tom's? As Michael lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, Kathryn
recognized it as one of Owen Paris' nervous habits. Suddenly she saw
him for what he really was, a masterful bit of programming, made up of
features and gestures copied from real people. The final end of the
fantasy was painful.

"I came to say goodbye." Kathryn wondered why she didn't just shut the
program down. This shadow of a person in front of her had no feelings
to be hurt, needed no explanation for her actions. Still, she felt
compelled to add, "I'm sorry, Michael."

Turning, she dragged leaden feet down the stairs, wondering how she
could have ever thrilled to the sound of his voice, the touch of his
phantom hand.

The light from above was suddenly blocked. Kathryn turned to see
Michael in the doorway, fury contorting his face. He was glaring at
Tom, still waiting for her in the street.

"I should have known! I've seen the way the two of you are together,
always whispering, always laughing at your private jokes." He flew
down the stairs toward Tom, passing a mortified Kathryn on the way. He
was nearly within striking distance of the startled pilot before she
had enough presence of mind to call an end to the program.

Suddenly they were standing alone in a square room cris-crossed by
yellow lines. Kathryn leaned against a wall, exhausted. Tom tactfully
refrained from commenting on the melodrama he'd just witnessed.

Going to one of the control panels built into the wall, he began
putting together the program that had been taking shape in his mind.
After a few minutes Tom looked up from his work to request the
captain's authorization code so his changes could take effect. She
looked even more tired and depressed than when they'd begun their
quest.

"OK, I've got Michael eloping with a woman from a neighboring village
and emigrating to America. Maggie O'Halloran is going to take over the
tavern."

Kathryn nodded absently. "Thank you, Tom." She touched his arm as they
left the holodeck, even managing a small smile. "I'm glad you were
here, despite the ... misunderstanding."

"My pleasure, Captain. It's been awhile since I've been chased by a
jealous boyfriend. It's good for my ego."

They continued down the corridor in companionable silence, each
thinking their own thoughts. Kathryn's hand had slipped through the
crook of Tom's arm. They both took comfort from the contact.

It was hard to figure out how to console a woman who had just 'broken
up' with a holographic boyfriend. Tom wasn't sure whether to offer his
condolences on the end of her fantasy or congratulations on this sign
that she was ready for a real relationship. He was still pondering
this dilemma when they arrived at the captain's quarters.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine."

She laid a reassuring hand on his chest, the most delicate of touches,
and looked up at him, conveying with her eyes the gratitude she felt
for his concern. Such an expressive face, delicate and strong at the
same time, like a sculpture of spun steel. Tom could see the relief
that this episode was finally over, the loneliness that she tried so
hard to hide from others. A fist tightened around his heart. He was
afraid she would give into depression again and seclude herself in her
quarters.

"Kathryn ..."

If she had been anyone else he would have put his arms around her and
suggested that she have a good cry. He knew she would never allow it,
so he flashed her his best light-up-the-room grin as he started down
the corridor. "If I don't see you at Sandrine's within a week I'm
going to come here and drag you out."

"Understood, Lieutenant. I'll see you at the pool table." It was
several minutes before either one of them realized he had used her
first name.

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The End