A/N: This time I owe apologies to Simon and Garfunkel. It's a bit on the nose, but I couldn't resist...


Tom? Can you hear me? Please answer me.

Lwaxana?

Yes, dear! I'm here. Everything's all right.

Am I alive?

Yes. Very much so.

Am I awake?

Not quite.

I… hurt.

I'm so sorry, dear. Don't fret. I'll call the doctor.

No! No. Please. Don't leave.

I'm not leaving. I'm right here with you.

Some hours or days later, Tom decided it was time to wake up for real. His eyes didn't want to cooperate, though, as they were sealed shut with a heavy layer of sleep. He brought a hand to his eyes to wipe them, but his fingers felt clumsy and dull.

"Let me do that."

A warm, damp cloth gently rubbed at his face, and Tom blinked. "Lwaxana," he croaked, when he could see her again. She looked different. He couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't bad, per se. But something wasn't right.

He tried to ask her what had happened and who had decided it was a good idea to park a shuttlecraft on his chest, but she verbally shushed him and mentally sent waves of soothing thoughts until he nearly fell asleep again. Save your strength, dear she told him once she'd elevated the head of his bed and spoon fed him ice chips for his scratchy throat. You don't need to speak. I'll tell you everything.

It took a few rounds of ice chips before Tom was alert enough to follow the story — Lwaxana had to reassure him several times that she had not been injured and that their attacker was in custody and no longer a threat. The waiter had been a lone wolf. When Tom had tackled him, the Lumensian had not yet had a chance to trigger the explosives he'd rigged in the ductwork below the main gallery. The security force had subdued the man almost immediately after Tom had taken a disruptor blast to the chest, and no one else had been injured. Tom's actions had thwarted the attack before it had even really begun. "You're a hero, my darling," Lwaxana told him, smiling.

Tom looked at his hands and his cheeks burned. "I'm no hero," he muttered. "You're the one who knew something was off. I would have never even been there if I hadn't followed you..."

A well-manicured hand closed over his own. "Which you did because you wanted to keep me safe, despite how I've hurt you. I'm not sure anyone's ever been so noble on my behalf." Lwaxana cupped his cheek. "Don't downplay what you did, Tom. You saved many people's lives that day. Including mine."

Tom shrugged as much as the pain in his chest allowed him. It's not that he wasn't happy no one else had gotten hurt; but all he could seem to think of was the last time he'd woken up, broken and disoriented, in a hospital bed. The three lives that he hadn't saved. The ones that he'd ended far too early.

"Tom."

He didn't look at her. He didn't want to hear anymore, about how Lwaxana thought he was a hero. He didn't want to see her understanding eyes or hear her comforting words. He wasn't even convinced she believed them, so why should he? Because if she did think those things — if she really thought Tom was good and brave and kind — why would she be sending him away?

Look at me, Imzadi.

Tom's head jerked up. His knowledge of the Betazoid language was still limited, but… "What did you just call me?"

"Imzadi. Beloved. You're a good person. You are. I've seen it since the day we first met—"

Tom's left eyebrow went up. "You called me a 'Starfleet reject.' You only hired me because you didn't have another choice."

Lwaxana sighed and put a finger to his lips. "You're ruining the moment, dear." She straightened and cleared her throat. "As I was saying: you're a good person. I've seen it since… very early on. No matter how much you try to hide it. I know you made a mistake, a terrible one. But the reason it hurts you so much is because of what a good heart you have. And if it takes me the rest of my life, I'm going to convince you of that."

Tom's eyes searched hers. The rest of her life? Was Lwaxana saying what he thought she was? Tom felt a small bloom of hope. But maybe he was just kidding himself. Maybe the meds he was on were making him see things as he wished them to be instead of as they were. He tried to take a deep breath but his sore ribs stopped him. "What are you trying to say, Lwaxana?" he asked her when the pain dulled enough for him to speak again.

She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "That I've been a fool, to think I could let you go. Please stay, Tom. Stay and fly my silly little ship and share my life with me. Please."

Tom gave her a relieved smile and felt his chest tighten again — in a good way this time. "Like you'd ever take no for an answer." Lwaxana laughed and kissed him lightly on the mouth. As she pulled away, Tom frowned. He still couldn't figure out what was different about her. She definitely looked different.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing, really," he said, squeezing her hand. "Just wish I had the energy to pull you into this bed with me."

Lwaxana kissed him again, a little longer and more firmly this time. "I promise you, my handsome love. A few weeks from now, I fully plan on having you make up for lost time."

They sat together quietly after that, Lwaxana stroking his hair and Tom's eyes getting progressively heavier. He was more tired than he could remember ever being, but he didn't want to close his eyes. What if she changed her mind again? What if she wasn't there when he woke up? And he still couldn't figure out what was different about her. Her hair, maybe? No, that wasn't it...

"There's one more thing we should talk about," Lwaxana said, but her voice sounded far away.

"Mmm?" Tom murmured, finally giving up the ghost and letting his eyelids slide shut.

"It's about your parents, dear. I called them. They're arriving on Betazed tomorrow."

That woke him up. The low beep of the cardiac monitor on his bed started to accelerate. "My parents? You called them? Why would you do that?"

Stay calm, Imzadi. Too much stress isn't good for you right now.

"Then you shouldn't have told me my parents are coming!" Tom became restless, felt trapped. His legs kicked weakly at the heavy blankets that covered them. Lwaxana sent him a burst of calming thoughts and images. Part of it might have been the drugs, but it was a little like getting a mental bear hug. Suddenly it became much harder for him to stay agitated.

"That's hardly fair," he said, trying, unsuccessfully, to infuse the words with indignation.

"It's preferable to being sedated, isn't it?" Lwaxana remarked. "I had to contact them, Tom. Your name was going to be all over the news feeds. That's not the way a parent should find out their child has been gravely injured. You're forgetting, I think, that in addition to being a daughter of the Fifth House—"

"And holder of the chalice, and the sacred rings, blah, blah, blah," Tom grumbled.

"Don't sulk, dear. It's unbecoming," Lwaxana said, but she pursed her lips into a small smile. "But yes, in addition to those things, I am also a mother. I know what it means to love a child, even one that drives you to distraction. I also know that the two people I spoke to love you very much, and have been terribly worried about you. It's time to let them back in, Tom. At least a little bit."

"Fuck," Tom sighed, and noted that Lwaxana must still be pretty worried about him, too, given she didn't call him out on his swearing. "You're really going to make me see them, huh?"

Yes, Imzadi.

I wouldn't do this for anyone else, you know.

I know.

Not until tomorrow?

Not until tomorrow. You should rest now. You're tired.

She lowered the head of his bed and began to stroke his hair again. Tom smiled back at her and leaned into her hand. Just as his lids dropped, though, it hit him.

"Hey," he said, his eyes flicking open once again. "I figured it out."

What, dear?

"What's different." Tom reached a hand towards her face. "You're not wearing any makeup."

He felt as well as saw her blush, and she pulled back, tucking the hand that reached for her back under the blankets. "Well, I suppose you were bound to see it eventually," she said, her tone brisk. "Just as well — you should know what you're getting into. It's not too late to change your mind, you know."

"Don't say that," Tom said. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, makeup or no." He yawned and let his eyes close. "I'm not going anywhere."

Except to sleep.

Maybe that, yeah.

I love you, Imzadi.

Me, too.

/=\ /=\ /=\

Mr. Homn was worried.

He was standing in the doorway of Tom Paris' bedroom — his empty bedroom — holding a tray laden with several of the pilot's favorite breakfast foods. Tom Paris had only been released from the medical center three days' prior, and the Honorable Lwaxana Troi had instructed Mr. Homn to ensure the young man didn't overtax himself. This included breakfast in bed.

But no one was in the bed.

Certainly if something had happened overnight, if Tom Paris had had some sort of medical setback, Mr. Homn would have been the first to know. He would have been the one tasked with alerting the hospital and arranging for care, so it seemed unlikely a physical problem was what had chased Tom Paris from his bed.

Mr. Homn did continue to have some concerns for Tom Paris' mental state. The attack at the museum had been traumatic by itself, of course, and his parents had only left Betazed yesterday. While all had been cordial towards each other, it was clear that the older Parises' presence was a source of some tension. Perhaps Tom Paris had been too distraught to rest? But where would he have gone?

That's when he heard it.

It had been a long time — several months at this point — since Mr. Homn had last heard that particular sound. Tom Paris was singing. It was far more pleasant this go round, though. No slurring, no weird hiccups or gasps. Just a reedy tenor, only slightly flat.

"I get the news I need on the weather report!"

Mr. Homn took his tray and followed the sound down the corridor. Towards the Honorable Lwaxana Troi's suite of rooms. Interesting.

"Heeeeeyyy, I got nothin' to do today but smile!"

Mr. Homn knocked on the door and the Honorable Lwaxana Troi soon offered him admittance. She gave him a broad smile as he entered the room. The curtains were thrown back to reveal a fine morning with cloudless azure skies, and steam was billowing out from under the bathroom door. His mistress lounged in her daybed wearing her favorite dressing gown, a delicate silk adorned with a pattern of kaji berry blossoms.

That appeared to be all she was wearing.

"Heeeeeyyy, let your honesty shine, shine, shine now! Doh-n-do-doh, n-doh-n-do-doh, like it shines on meeee!"

Mr. Homn raised an eyebrow and held up the tray.

"You can leave it here, Mr. Homn. I'll make sure he eats when he's done in the shower," she told him, smiling like the proverbial riga cat that ate the ekka bird. "I don't want to disturb him. He really has a lovely voice, don't you think?"

Mr. Homn bowed in agreement and smiled as he backed out of the room.