Chapter 2 I Found Hell
A/N: And here comes my infamous TV pretty boy whump, even if it's all filler because I was so writer-blocked when I wrote this, I couldn't come up with anything better.
Anyway, this chapter's really, really, really crappy. But Damnit, I couldn't get it any better. So please, bear with me while I try and make chapter three less eye-bleeding to read (and I suggest you have a mop on hand for this one).
"Ensign? Ensign Paris, are you awake?"
Tom slowly blinked, before the world came into focus…including the doctor standing over him.
"Can you hear me?" The doctor said.
"Unfortunately, yes," Tom mumbled. Goddamnit, his voice was still weak.
Doc just rolled his eyes. "Good to know your charming personality is still intact after all."
"What…what happened?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" the Doc asked.
I seem to be getting asked that a lot, lately…
"Agony," Tom said. He tried sitting up, but the doctor pushed him back down.
"Rest," the doctor said. "After you were brought in, you passed out when I gave you some morphine. You were…what's the phrase? 'Banged up pretty badly', I believe."
"I know," Tom said, trying to make his voice sound steady. "I felt it. What injuries?"
"Severe abdominal bleeding, internal and external. Three-centimeter deep gash on your leg, severe concussion to boot…"
"What are you leaving out, doc?" Tom asked, this time sitting up more slowly, and letting the Doc use a pillow to prop him up.
"Two things, Mr. Paris," Doc said. "One…well, I've discovered something in your neural pathways…the Chinaii implanted something in your brain, but for the holographic life of me, I can't find out what."
"And two?" Tom asked. What else could they have possibly done to him?
The doctor stopped the medical scan and gave Tom a look.
"Mr. Paris…Tom…'two' would consist of what you aren't telling me."
"…ya lost me, there, Doc," Tom said.
"I have discovered nearly innumerable wounds from your ordeal on I'tek…but I also found several much older wounds…half healed…varying ages…from before this ordeal."
Shit, Tom thought. He was so hoping Doc would think it was just from the attack, knowing he was going to be sent to sickbay…but that must've been pushing it. I don't need this all over again…it's just like my first year, here…wait, I'm supposed to be talking.
"Well…I don't know what you're talking about. I admit that sometimes, when I get stressed, I spend extra time in the gym-"
"Do you mistake me for a fool?" The doctor cut in rather snappily. "Those wounds do not consist with accidents. They consist with attacks."
Tom shrugged.
"They have a boxing ring in the gym…"
"So can you give me a list of people you fought with, who will verify this?" Doc asked. "Along with an explanation as to why there aren't any defensive wounds, either…and as to why you haven't actually come to me to get yourself patched up, again?"
This time, Tom didn't even try to bother with an explanation.
"Mr. Paris…who's attacking you?"
"…I don't know."
The doctor sighed.
"I will alert Tuvok-"
"No!" Tom said. "This is why I didn't come here…I can't let these people win."
The doctor just gave him a look.
"You were attacked repeatedly, even if discreetly, during your first year here…but then, it made sense why. Starfleet and Maquis all hated you. But now…"
"I just nearly killed B'Elanna, myself, and did some major damage to Voyager with Alice, doc, along with causing warp core breech a few days after which, injured six people and led to a crewman being unconscious for…well, he's still unconscious, see? That's when people tend to get pissed."
"But you were being controlled!"
"Most people don't know the details behind it. All they know is that my ship nearly killed B'Elanna, and that I nearly did some damage to Voyager with 'my' antics, along with pissing of the bridge crew. Most of them initially think I'm just manipulative when I 'get the bridge officers to forgive me'. All that snowballed together, and the rumor mill, when this is kept down, becomes a little hazy."
"Well, clarify them!" The doctor said.
"Not a chance, doc," Tom said. "Besides, who'd believe me?"
"I still say you should report this to Tuvok!" Doc cried out rather adamantly.
"No. He can't do anything. The investigation would get people to stop, yes…but I don't even know who attacked me…so when the investigation team turns up empty, the investigation has to stop, and the attacks start again…but harder…"
"Well, what am I supposed to do? Both as a doctor and as your friend, I can't just sit back and let you get repeatedly attacked, and not especially when I can do something about it-"
"That's just it, do…you can't…" Tom sighed, before shoving out a few pillows to lie down again, feeling exhaustion creep up over his already screwed over head. "Just…let it go."
The doctor sighed. "Well…get some rest."
Tom frowned.
"What time is it?"
"0300 hours."
"…how long have I been out?"
"About two days."
Tom closed his eyes and groaned.
"Then why am I so tired?"
"Because you're recovering from well over a month's worth of injuries," Doc muttered bitterly as he walked off.
Tom shook his head. He wasn't going to let the people attacking him win – that was for sure.
"Miranda! Hide!" Tom hissed to his little sister.
"But what's wrong with daddy?"
"I can't explain now – just go to your room, locked the door, and don't open it if Dad asks, or even mom – only me, got it?"
"What's wrong with them?"
"They…that stuff their drinking? It's called Whiskey. It makes you do thing you wouldn't normally do."
"Daddy hit you! He needs a time out!"
"Yeah, well, we can't give it to him," Tom hissed, still kneeling in front of his little sister. "Please, Mira, just go to your room, okay? I'll try to deal with them."
She briefly kissed his cheek, which was still red from his dad's backhand, before she ran off stealthily.
He managed to keep the doors closed just until she disappeared down the hall, before Tom turned around to face his dad, who just burst through the door.
"Where's your sister?" he growled, slurring, at Tom. "She can't just mouth off to me and get away with it!"
"Not now, dad," Tom said. "Please…you had too much to drink-"
"Don't tell me when I've had too much! You have no right-"
"I have every right!"
Tom saw that hit to his face coming almost before his dad's hand even rose.
That didn't make it any less painful-
"Argh!"
"Mr. Paris!"
With another scream, Tom snapped up, wincing and leaning back. God…what a nightmare…though what the hell was something from almost a quarter century ago doing back in his memories?
"Doc?" Tom asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"
Doc frowned.
"I…I don't know. But right now…your face…"
Tom let his fingers brush his face…and it stung…as if…
…as if his fingers were brushing a bruise that resulted from a backhand.
A/N: O.O Ooh, what now? XD
Well...actually, crap, the next one's more filler, too. But at least it starts to explain things, and the plot basically unfolds, despite how crappy the plot is. Anyway, sorry for the long delay (I'll have to start a man-hunt for whoever thought finals would be a good idea), and please review, because I have nothing else to live for...except for trying to get that new computer (I can barely run MS Word, now...I literally have less than half a GB of space left on my computer...) XD
Thanks for bearing with me, and I hope the eye-blood didn't ruin any upholstery!