There are days when he wonders if Voyager's halls change shape according to his mood. Right now, he wants them to be long. Never-ending. Labyrinthine and full of laughter and holodeck plans and exclamations over baby Miral. But right now…
"You look like you just lost your best friend, Harry," B'Elanna jokes, brown eyes smirking as she bounces Miral.
"Yeah, lighten up, will you?" Tom elbows his ribs. "You're going to see your folks. After seven years of moaning after your mom's pineapple upside down cake, you'd think you'd act a little more excited."
"I am excited. It's just… I don't want to leave."
"Yeah. Yeah, me too." And Tom's voice is softer now. Eyes searching memories of yesterday.
"We'll miss you, Harry," Janeway rasps. And he knows without looking that she's about to cry. Captain or no, she's been a mother to him these past seven years. He'll miss her. How will he serve under another captain? It will be strange.
And then he's turning to B'Elanna, because she's the first person he met from the Maquis crew, the first person he worked with to solve a big problem, the first person to give him a nickname that made him smile…
He looks at her and sees a friendship that comforts him in its strength—a bond that promises never to die or drift into forgetfulness. "Look, B'Elanna… about that time on—"
"Shut up, Starfleet." And she kisses his cheek.
Tom is next, last, because he's said his goodbyes to everyone else (Seven's was a little like pulling a tooth with no anesthetic) and—
There are no words.
And that's okay.