Disclaimer: not mine.

Summary: Harry Kim, Tom Paris, and the trials of loving Ocampa. Set during the alternate universe of "Before and Again", exploring what would happen if Kes never entered the bioneural chamber and instead the timeline progressed naturally.

The Fathers and Husbands of Mayflies

The day that Harry Kim marries Linnis Paris, he shakes his new father-in-law's hand tightly and tries not to be thrown by the look in Tom's eyes. He knows that look- he's seen it plenty of times before. On each of Kes's birthdays, at every milestone Linnis reaches, that look is there, that mixture of sorrow and terror.

He'll never forget when Linnis turned one and Tom turned up in his quarters in the middle of the night shaking like a leaf. He'll never forget guiding Tom over to the couch, dozing with both arms around his friend as he trembled and quaked, coming to terms with the impossibility that the daughter he welcomed twelve months ago was already nearly a meter and a half tall and studying medicine with her mother.

(Two years later, Harry is marrying that same girl. Two years later he's part of the latest milestone that's pulling Linnis a little further away from her father.)

Harry recognizes the look again at the wedding, although he doesn't really understand it until a few months later when Andrew is born. And he doesn't truly understand until a month after that, when Andrew pushes himself to his feet and toddles across their quarters.

Tom visits that night, and Andrew, without pause, howls "gampa!". Tom and Harry lock eyes briefly. They play with Andrew and his letter blocks until he tires himself out, then they put him to bed, without exchanging a word.

When he's finally asleep, Tom pulls Harry bodily into the other room, and without preamble wraps an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay," he murmurs, "I know. Harry, I get it."

"He's only a quarter Oc-campa," Harry bawls. He hides his face with one hand, sending silent thanks to the universe that Linnis is on duty. "Shouldn't it s-start to dilute eventually?"

"Welcome to the club," Tom whispers, and brings his other arm up.

At first it was mostly just weird. At first it was honestly kind of funny to end up loving a woman less than three years after helping to change her diapers. To fall in love with his best friend's daughter; to end up the son-in-law of the man whose wedding toast he'd given. But weird was okay; weird was better than heartbroken.

It's not that there aren't good times; there are lots of them. Harry and Tom both learned early on that a wasted day with an Ocampan loved one is really much more than a day. They run holodeck programs together, sometimes all five of them; they take Andrew to the surface of any planet that the Captain can promise is safe. There is a rule that they absolutely must eat at least one meal a day with at least one family member, and although that rule is broken sometimes, it's followed more often than not.

Kes and Linnis seem almost amused at times by their husbands' insistence that every moment be capitalized on. After all, to them nine years is- well- a lifetime.

Kes goes downhill like she does everything else- fast. One minute they're in the mess hall celebrating and the next minute, or so it seems, they're in sickbay and tricorders are beeping and the doctor is using words like "morilogium" and "weeks" and "I'msosorry".

Andrew sniffles and huddles between his parents. Harry hoists his son up as though he were an infant again, and feels Andrew's tears soak hotly into his uniform collar. He carries him back to their quarters on his hip.

Linnis comes in a few hours later; they kiss, and she cries for a while. Finally she rubs her cheeks and smiles, and asks Harry to go check on her father. That's how their family works; it's a five-pointed star, where every point is connected to every other point, and Linnis knows that very well. So Harry goes. He tells stupid jokes and forces Tom to eat some dinner and then, when requested, he goes and stands with his friend in sickbay for a while, keeping watch over his sleeping wife.

The star is about to lose a point. The family is about to lose their matriarch, and Harry doesn't know who he's more worried for: his wife, his son, his best friend, or himself (because this is the moment he's been dreading, the moment when he absolutely can't deny any longer that nine years means nine years and that's all she wrote).

Andrew turns one a month after his grandmother passes away. Harry and Tom do their best to support Linnis, to celebrate with Andrew, but the moment they get the rest of their family to bed, they head for the holodeck. Harry calls up some generic nature program and they trek wordlessly up a hill to watch some nameless sun rise.

And they cry, both of them, unabashedly. Tom cries with fat, silent tears and Harry cries with ugly, heaving sobs, and they sit shoulder-to-shoulder, each leaning on the only person who can possibly hope to understand their grief.

Tom is thirty-three; his wife has died of old age, and his daughter and grandson each have well under a decade left of life.

Harry is thirty. He, too, will be a widower before he turns forty; he, too, knows that he will bury a child before he turns gray.

Harry calms before Tom does, and he rubs a hand down his friend's back as Tom sniffs harshly and tries in vain to bring himself back under control. It won't be much longer before Harry is in his position, and that scares him to death to know that this tragedy that is still somewhat hypothetical for him is very, very real for Tom.

Kes is dead. And Harry knows what it means but doesn't quite.

Andrew is almost two and damn it all if he doesn't look like Harry at eighteen with fake ears slapped on. Okay, he's a bit willowy, and his nose is much more Linnis's doing, but ultimately it's kind of uncanny how much Kim is in there.

(Harry tries not to wonder about the day his son will become a mirror instead of a photograph- he tries even harder not to wonder about what will come after that.)

The same scientific mind is in there as well- the same unrepentantly passionate thirst for exciting ideas- and before long Harry finds himself working side-by-side with Andrew, updating the astronometrics bay at Chakotay's behest. He supposes it's not an unnatural thing, the first time your child knows more than you do about something- and Andrew's smile is so wide that Harry decides he won't even let himself get sad this time.

And when Linnis dies at six and a half- not of old age but during an away mission- suddenly astronometrics becomes the only place on the ship that Harry and Andrew can be together without the cloud around them settling too heavily.

"I have to ask," Harry says quietly. He's sitting upright on Tom's couch while Tom lounges next to him, punching lazily at a PADD. "And listen, I don't like asking anymore than you're going to like answering. But I've got to, you know?"

"Okay," Tom replies. The deaths of his wife and daughter have taken their toll; he is somber where he once was silly, kind where he once was crude. In the past decade his body has aged, well, a decade, but his mind and soul have aged much much faster.

"Who was harder to lose?"

Tom blinks up at him. The question hangs between them like a ghost.

"Harry-" Tom begins, at the exact moment Harry snaps, "no."

"No," he says again, more softly. "I've got to be ready, Tom. I've got to know."

"Harry, Andrew has years left," Tom cajoles. He sits up, puts the PADD down, and settles in next to his friend.

"That's what we thought about Linnis," Harry spits brokenly, and Tom wraps an arm around him. Sometimes there are odd moments when Harry really does feel like his son.

"Half of us lose our lovers," Tom begins, and the tears come in a rush to Harry's eyes. "That's kind of how it works. But no one..." he sighs. "No one should lose a child. No one should have to... and no one should have to expect it, either."

"A lot can happen," Harry muses, and his words are darker than his tone would suggest. "Maybe- who knows? Maybe Andrew will still outlive me. I could die tomorrow."

Tom's fingers hurt as they tighten around Harry's shoulder. "Don't say that," he rasps. "Don't. Ever. Say that."

The mirror thing happens less than a year later; Harry looks up from his station one day to see Andrew looking back at him, a spitting image. His dark eyes are tired but bright; his thick hair is regulation short. Harry is thirty-two; Andrew is three and looks just about in his early thirties. The same laugh lines have sprouted on both of their faces; the same roundness has settled on both of their shoulders. Father and son could be brothers. In fact, they could be twins.

For a few months, Andrew has been seeing an ensign from engineering. Harry's first thought, upon finding out, had been that that same ensign had once babysat Andrew when Harry was on duty and Linnis was ill. His second thought had been to remember he that had held Linnis when she was less than one day old, so okay, maybe he shouldn't point fingers.

"Dad." Andrew's voice is level, and so much deeper than it was just a year ago. They talk like this often, calmly, over top of a room of astronomy equipment.

"What is it?"

"I think- I may-"

Harry has to smile at his son's hesitation. A family trait, it seems.

"I want to ask Mariah to marry me." He says it in a rush, though he normally takes his time.

At thirty-two, Harry does not feel old enough to properly respond to something like this, so he just smiles wider. "I think that sounds great."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry promises, and Andrew grins, and maybe he should warn him but when it comes down to it, there are some things worth living out for yourself.