DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek Voyager or any of its characters.

A/N: Hey all! I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to write this fanfic, but here it is. This is an aftermath fic for The Disease, series five episode sixteen. Not gonna lie, it's not my favourite episode and I spent most of it cringing, but all in all it was an interesting concept. Aftermath is something most Treks never seem to dwell upon, especially when it comes to emotions, and so I felt I had to write just a little bit extra to heal some of the bonds between the characters. Please read and review if you have the time. Would love to know your thoughts. As always, enjoy :) x

ALL AT ONCE

- Chapter 1 -

Hollow

It's only when the door chimes a third time that he bothers to acknowledge it.

In the dim light of his quarters, knees pulled to his chest, Harry Kim reluctantly surfaces from his morose reflections, half-considering ignoring the aggravating sound entirely. A bowl of Bajoran shrimp and flambé noodles sits half-eaten on the table in front of him, his uniform jacket thrown dismissively across the room - one of many items that have been subjected to his frustration. He knows instinctively who is standing outside his cabin, but he hasn't the energy, hasn't the will, to allow them entry just yet. Reason suggests he should try to make an effort, tidy up, put on a show, but everything else demands he brood a little longer, entirely unconcerned with the impression his behaviour will give. If it were Chakotay or Tuvok they'd have already used their command codes to override the security, and B'elanna would have somehow forced the door down or started hurling an endless stream of Klingon insults through the barrier by now.

On the seventh chime he relents.

"Alright. Alright," he sighs. "Come in."

The doors swish open to reveal a lone figure standing patiently near the threshold, arms folded casually over his chest as if he'd only been waiting there a few seconds instead of the twenty minutes that have passed since the first chime sounded.

"Hey, Harry." Tom leans forward, squinting in the dark. "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure," Harry shrugs, barely registering his best friend moving carefully across the room and sitting down opposite, mirroring his position. "Sorry about the mess."

He isn't really.

Crossing one leg over the other, Tom waits for him to speak and, when he doesn't, a companionable silence settles in the space between them. It drags on for a few minutes before Tom finally decides to break it.

"You okay?"

No, is the obvious answer. Fine, is the dismissive lie. Bitterness sweeps in as a wave, retreating to reveal a deep hurt embedded in the sands of his spirit. There's a sudden knot in his throat, heavy with grief.

"I miss Tal."

"I know, buddy," Tom says sympathetically, his tone steeped in sincerity. "I know. You've just got to hang on in there. It'll get easier."

Harry almost laughs, but the sound would only be half-hearted and hollow.

"Will it?"

"In time."

"I don't know." He rakes a hand through his hair, huffs out a shaky breath. "I feel terrible."

"You don't say." Tom raises a brow in mock-surprise, and then his expression softens a little. "You can't go on like this, Harry. If you can't talk to me about it then I'm sure we can find-"

"There's no one else I can talk to, " Harry cuts in, paling at the thought of having to discuss his most inner thoughts with anyone but his closest friend. "There's no one else I want to talk to."

An uneven beat hammers in his chest - one of the physical consequences of his condition he has come to recognise all too well. Seven long days have passed since she left, since the first ties of their bond began to fade, as tangible as sunrays disappearing beneath a cold horizon.

"I feel like a part of me is missing, you know?" Harry sighs, blowing out a rush of air and with it all the frustration he has tried to bottle away. "I know I'm supposed to be trying to forget her, but it's like she's everywhere. I hear her laughing when I wake up. I see her smile when I go to sleep. I feel like I'm going crazy and it doesn't matter how many hours I spend doing extra duty shifts or exercising on the Holodeck, nothing changes." A breath. A conclusion he can't bear. "Heartache has been written about in poems and stories for centuries, but I don't think I ever really understood it until now. I guess I never believed you could actually die from a broken heart."

And his is split right down the middle, the other half now travelling to the other side of the quadrant. Tom offers an encouraging smile, his eyes crinkled with understanding, and Harry is grateful for it, but the half-concealed pity in them pulls at the roots of his misery.

"I don't know. Maybe I should have taken the Doctor's damn medicine after all," Harry huffs, moving to his feet and pacing to the other side of the room. "Maybe I should have just got it over with."

Because it would be easier than living with this. Because he might be able to concentrate on something else for more than five minutes. Because for once he might fall into a dreamless sleep without worrying his chest might implode from the overwhelming emptiness that claws at his ribcage every night.

But then, Harry realises, he'd be deprived of the love Tal had given him, and no matter how painful the experience he's determined to cling to that love until the last remnants of their bond have dwindled away. His gaze shifts to the ensign still sitting against the far bulkhead, casting a question to the wind.

"Do you think I made the right choice?"

Tom smiles wryly.

"You're asking for my advice now?"

Harry lowers his head, acutely aware of the masked accusation.

"I'm sorry."

And he is.

"Computer, increase lights by twenty percent."

He hears Tom get to his feet, criss-crossing a path through the battlefield of debris. A hand clasps his shoulder, solid and reassuring.

"It's okay, Harry. You're lovesick. It's perfectly normal to feel the way you do."

"It's not just that," Harry shakes his head, staring at the carpet beneath his feet. "I feel terrible for not taking your advice. For lying to B'elanna. For being late for my duty shifts. And I'm not even going to repeat what I said to the Captain-"

"Why?" Tom starts in surprise, taking a step back. "What did you say to the Captain?"

Harry groans, moving to sit on the couch, cringing awkwardly at the memory.

"You don't want to know."

Crossing his arms, Tom eyes him with a knowing suspicion.

"Is that why you've been so quiet on the Bridge lately?"

"I guess," Harry replies a little sheepishly. "I mean, I did disobey her orders. Twice."

"I'm surprised she didn't throw you in the Brig," Tom says, and for once he seems genuinely surprised.

"She did threaten to," Harry points out, shrinking at the recollection. "I can't help wondering... if I had voiced my opinion in a more professional manner she might have-"

"Listened to you?" Tom finishes.

"Yeah."

"Harry, considering you're still on duty and you haven't been stripped of your rank entirely, I'd say you've got off pretty lightly. What are you so worried about?"

He considers the question for a moment, observes the anxiety running amock in his mind, circling in an endless loop, egged on by a relentless crowd.

"I think I really hurt her, Tom."

For a moment the ensign on the other end of the couch looks concerned, baffled even, and then his features spread into a wide, optimistic grin.

"Don't worry," Tom says. "The Captain is a lot tougher than she looks."

"Yeah, I know." Harry shakes his head, exhaling irritably. "But you didn't see the look on her face. I was angry and upset and I had every damn right to be, but I shouldn't have yelled. I-" He looks up to see Tom with his legs crossed casually beneath him, tucking into the remains of his favourite shrimp and noodle dish. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Tom blinks, popping a shrimp into his mouth. "Were you going to eat this?"

Harry gapes, torn between rage and an incredulous bewilderment.

"How can you possibly be thinking of food at a time like this?"

Tom shrugs, twirling a string of noodles around his fork and devouring them in one bite.

"You were saying?"

Harry snorts, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I guess I just wish I could have handled the situation a whole lot better than I did."

Tom chuckles.

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing."

"Right," Harry agrees. He stares glumly at the floor, chews the inside of his cheek. "Do you think B'elanna will ever forgive me? She seemed pretty mad the last time I saw her. I mean, she worked on the Varro ship. She worked with Tal. I didn't think she'd have a problem with our relationship."

Tom frowns, and there's something unforthcoming in the way he considers his reply, as if he's holding back, still trying to protect him.

"She's not upset because you had a relationship, Harry," Tom replies slowly. "She's upset because... well, you kind of sabotaged her chance of getting her hands on some new components to help improve our warp core efficiency."

"Oh."

Tom sighs and sets the dish to one side, turning to face him fully.

"I won't lie to you, Harry. There are quite a few people who are angry about what happened. After all the work we did, they were really hoping the Varro would exchange some of their technology with us."

"Including you?"

"Well, yeah," Tom shrugs. "I mean, isn't that the case with every alien species we encounter? Isn't that the whole point of us being out here? Exchanging technologies? Improving our chances of getting home sooner?"

Home. He isn't sure where that is anymore. He misses Earth, still dreams of it from time to time, remembers its vivid blue skies and fresh, sweet air. And he loves being on Voyager, loves the friends that have become closer than family, loves the home they have made here. But part of him had started to dream of a new home. Of settling down. Building a family. With Tal. But it's a dream that will never come to fruition, because she's heading in the opposite direction, moving forever beyond his grasp.

"Are you mad at me too?" Harry asks.

"To be honest, Harry..." Tom exhales heavily, leans back into the couch. "I don't know. Part of me wishes you'd taken my advice, but I also know you've got to make your own decisions, your own mistakes. I suppose it would have been nice if the Varro had offered us something in return - even if it was just a couple of isolinear chips or information on the systems they've visited. But I don't blame you for what happened."

Relief descends, alleviating some of the pressure in his chest, but the reality of his best friend's words reveal a truth he hadn't considered. Rising from the sofa, Harry paces to the other side of the cabin.

"Maybe if I'd listened to you then things would have turned out better," he mutters. "Maybe, if I'd properly thought it all through, I'd have gotten to spend more time with Tal." He smiles sadly, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind. "Maybe she'd have even stayed on Voyager for a while."

"That's a lot of maybe's," Tom smirks, his eyes bright with a mirth that swiftly dissolves into a profound solemnity. He moves to his feet, looks him directly in the eyes. "Harry, listen, there's no point dwelling on the past. Trust me, it's not worth it. You can spin yourself in circles wondering 'what if' and regretting things you've done or said, but it won't change anything. You've just got to focus on what you've got now and move on. You can carry as many regrets as you like with you, but don't let them drag you down."

Harry swallows, huffs a strangled laugh.

"When did you get so wise?"

Tom smiles knowingly.

"I learnt from experience, remember?"

Of course he remembers. They've been friends right from the start: a young ensign fresh out of the academy and an ex-Starfleet, ex-Maquis criminal. Their friendship may be an unlikely one, but it's turned out to be one of the strongest he's ever known.

"You risked having another report on your service record covering for me. Why?"

"Well, my record isn't exactly spotless. I figured another report wouldn't make much of a difference," Tom says seriously, shrugging it off as if it were a mere inconvenience rather than a career-changing disaster just waiting to happen. He blinks, offers a half-grin. "That was a joke."

"Oh."

Harry slumps, a little relieved, but still the uneasiness remains. Or maybe it's just the soft clenching of his heart wondering where the other half is. Tom steps closer, a look in his eye he can't quite recognise.

"I did it because you're my friend, Harry," he says eventually, "and friends look out for each other."

Harry smiles.

"And they apologise too, right?"

Retrieving his uniform jacket from its crumpled position on the carpet, Harry slings it over his arms and takes a deep breath. He grabs the PADD from the table and heads toward the door. Tom calls after him, curiosity waning against worry.

"Harry, where are you going?"

"I forgot I was supposed to hand this report in to the Captain," Harry replies, weighing the PADD in his hand thoughtfully. "I'll see you later, Tom."