"No!" The large man stormed towards the young boy, frustration on his
features. He was as tall as a mountain as far as the boy was concerned,
and stronger than a force field. Right now the large man was angry with
him, but young Thomas didn't want to eat his meat. If he ate another bite
he would throw up, but they said he always had to eat every last bite. The
Man, Alkin, glared down at Thomas, towering over his kneeling form.
"Finish your dinner." His voice boomed around the now silent room, and Tom could see every other student there turn to watch and listen.
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't feel well."
"It wasn't a request boy! You receive a certain amount of food every day in order to keep yourself in prime condition. Nothing is ever left on your plate! You will lick it clean if necessary! Is that clear!" Thomas felt his eyes begin to moisten under the reprimanding. He was going to be sick, and all Alkin could do was yell at him, in front of everyone. He didn't like Alkin.
"Yes sir." He choked, and the mountain stormed away to make sure everyone else was eating their meals. Tom choked down the last few bites, and placed his tray in the recycler. As he turned to leave the messhall, he heard the older kids laughing at him.
"Eat all your food, crybaby."
"The pathetic human can't even handle his dinner. No way will he survive basic training. What a weakling. He's an insult to his race. Pah'Tak!" Thomas increased his speed and almost ran out of the large room, close to tears. They were right, he was a weakling.
"Thomas." He halted immediately and a second later was standing a foot away from the wall, frozen in salute, his eyes staring straight ahead. This is how students were expected to act when an officer or trainer was in presence. They were to make the center of the corridor clear for anyone to pass, and they always stood at attention. Once, when Thomas hadn't hurried he had been locked in a small black room for two days, he could barely move. He'd learned his lesson.
Sul'ta walked towards him with the grace of a trained warrior. He practically floated towards him. He hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble for something.
"At ease."
"sir." Thomas followed the order.
"Come with me."
"Aye sir." After a few moments, the Vulcan broke the silence that had settled over him.
"You are having trouble with the other students." It was a statement, and Thomas didn't know whether or not he was supposed to answer. Fortunately Sul'ta continued for him. "The children of this base are of no importance to you, they are merely training partners. You would be best to ignore them when they aggravate you." The Vulcan fell silent again, walking with long strides. Thomas kept the pace easily; he'd been following them for four years.
He didn't know how to respond. Lieutenant Sul'ta very rarely spoke about anything other than his training. He wasn't the most friendly man, but he was very logical. And he wasn't done yet either. Thomas once again listened to his teacher.
"It is a common thing for all species to pick on the younger, weaker, or more gifted people around them. You Thomas, are their target. You were brought here very young, you are small for even your age and species, you are clumsy in your fighting skills, and you show emotions within every crevice of your features. If you wish for the teasing to stop, you must show no emotion. When they see that they are bothering you, then they shall continue, feeding off of your reactions. Control your emotions, and you will control them. It is a manipulation you would do well to perfect. Now, report to your language class."
"Yes sir." Thomas turned right at the next corridor, hurrying to follow his orders, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. He began to immediately make himself like the Vulcan. He didn't want anybody to pick on him anymore.
((/\))
Once Tom made it back to the privacy of his quarters, he lost the calm and neutral look he had erected. Harry had rejected him. Harry hated him! Tom paced his quarters at breakneck speed. He needed to do something, he needed to clean his room! It had to be clean it was just too messy. Good thing Starfleet didn't perform room inspections because he would have failed. The Captain wouldn't approve. No one would approve. Everything was just so messy.
He moved around his room at a speed that most people would be surprised at when considering his height. He grabbed the clothing lying around and stuffed them back into their drawers and into the closet. He was completely focused on his task for about two minutes. He tried to not think about anything but his objective for a spotless and sparkling clean room, but Harry's words kept ringing in his mind. Loud and clear like the ships warning Klaxon's. You're not one of them!
He wasn't surprised about Harry's reaction though. In complete honesty he had expected it, but he had hoped he was wrong as he so often turned out to be. It was how anyone would have reacted. He, Thomas Eugene Paris, had betrayed the trust of his friends and crewmates, now he needed to pay the price. After all, if Harry didn't accept him back, would anyone? Other than Neelix and Tuvok that is. So far they seemed to be his only allies on a ship filled with angry people. The sound of his door sliding open caused him to whip around, and face his uninvited guest. Well, speaking of angry people…
He stood up and watched B'Elanna Torres storm towards him, her eyes afire with emotions. He knew that look in her eyes, he knew what was coming, and he received it full force. She barreled up to him and threw a powerful right hook, connecting hard with his jaw. He staggered back from the force of the blow, before he received another fist in the stomach. He doubled over to protect his bruising gut, and was rewarded with a knee in the mouth. The copper taste of blood coated his tongue from here he'd bitten it, and he fell to his knees on the hard floor, not lifting a finger in defense. He looked up, into her angry eyes, and grimaced at the disgust that he saw.
"I see you've managed to control that temper." He slurred through his swollen lip. He could tell that a few of his teeth were loose.
"Don't even try Paris. Consider this your warning: If you cross my path and so much as look at me in a way I don't like, then you will be right back where you are now." She paused a moment to gather her angry thoughts. He just watched her, his blue eyes beginning to turn into a light shade of gray.
"I thought you had changed. I thought you had honour, but you betrayed my trust in you, and I won't forgive you for that. The worst part about all of this, is that I was always right in my original opinions of you. You are a pig, Paris!" She spat the last word at him, not bothering to hide any of the contempt in her voice, and she turned her back on him, leaving the room in silence. He watched her as she stormed out, and he stared at the door for a long moment after it shut. It took him a moment to realize that she was gone.
He stood with ease and checked the time, his gaze drifting back to the door. Well, it looked like they had just injured one bird with two stones, two big stones, more like boulders actually. He sighed and stared at the floor for a moment; this was not his idea of a family reunion, it was more like a deranged trip through the twilight zone. He'd known that if he ever came back it wouldn't have been under the best of circumstances, but this was worse than he'd thought.
He took a deep breath, and composed himself, firmly locking his look of indifference into place. This didn't bother him, it was just another bump on the road that was his life. He was used to it. He walked silently out of his quarters and into the corridor. He needed to see the doctor, Klingon's, even half Klingon's had more strength then they might be aware of. He needed to get fixed up.
((/\))
The doctor was alerted to a presence in his sick bay when his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the doors sliding open and shut. He quickly removed his feet from the surface of his desk, and stood from his chair to greet the patient.
Well, he was wondering how long it would take the pilot to get here.
"Well Mr. Paris. I was wondering how long it would take you to arrive here." Tom stopped his inspection of the sickbay and turned to the EMH. The swollen red flesh on his face was all the excuse the Doctor needed to wave a hand towards a biobed.
"You sound like you couldn't wait to see me. I'm touched." The tall mans voice held none of the humour that the Doc had expected.
"Hmmph." Was all the Doc felt like saying as he began to scan Tom's injuries. Well, well, he looked at the scans again to be sure he read them right. "I see you stopped in to see B'Elanna before stopping in. I suppose it's better seeing her before, that way you wouldn't have to come right back. Look this way please." He ordered and Tom turned his head to the right. "Just a few loose teeth and some broken veins. I'll repair the ones on your face now, your stomach can wait a few minutes." It hadn't even been a day and Tom had already been attacked, though the Doc couldn't say he hadn't expected it, he'd just hoped it could have been avoided.
He looked at the pilot's pale features. A little sun would do the man good. His face locked in that annoying, emotionless mask. This was probably the one thing that the Doc detested the most about his former medical assistant: His ability to shut himself away from the world and not let anybody in. Whatever the man was feeling at the moment, it was definitely not the calmness he was emitting. The EMH picked up the blue medical gown and handed it to Tom, and Tom rolled his eyes. Ha! Theres was some of the Paris charm the Doc knew!
"You know the drill."
"Yeah, that doesn't mean I have to like it." The Doc shook his head as his patient sauntered off to change in the back room. When he returned and sat on the biobed, the EMH performed a complete physical, frowning at his scanner several times. He made sure he only asked the basic procedure questions first, and uploaded his information into the medical files. Now that that was out of the way, there were some things he really wanted to know.
"Will I live?" Ever the smart ass.
"It's doubtful. I'd like to keep you over night to run a few more tests." He was rewarded with a short laugh, and smiled slightly himself. He hadn't known how Tom would react to him, after all this time, but it didn't look like any sedatives were going to be needed for his medical assistants co- operation. So far, so good.
"Tom, I have a few questions and then you can make yourself scarce." After a nod of agreement he began his tirade. "It was, I believe, under very strict orders that I allowed you to leave here only when you agreed to avoid as much bodily harm as possible! I should have known that you wouldn't listen to me! You never listen to me! It seems you would rather be a human punching bag!" He paused and focused his I-care-and-don't-want- to-admit-it glare on Tom, satisfied when the man cowered back slightly. "How did you manage to obtain all of these injuries in one year! I know they are all mended back together and you're not dead, but humor me."
"Well Doc, you know how dedicated I am to my work. Sometimes getting beat up comes with the job." Tom shrugged his shoulders, and sat up straighter. He must have been the most enthusiastic officer on whatever ship he had gone to if the EMH judged by the extent of some of the injuries. He knew that that was the best answer he would get on that question. Moving on to number two.
"perhaps you would be kind enough to explain the slight chafing, an inch in width around your neck. Was it a collar of some sort?"
"Actually, yeah. It was the style, what could I say?"
"And your rather interesting body art? I never thought that you would be the sort to get a tattoo, let alone two of them. You may start by explaining the interesting design that travels around your ankle like a bracelet."
"Well Doc, I was always jealous of Chakotay and thought 'what the hell!'" The Doctor glared, and Tom continued his explanation. "Seriously though, this one is like a property sticker. It's the evidence of what ship I belong too."
"And did everyone you worked with have one of these 'property tattoo's?'" The idea behind the tattoo was repulsive, but it wasn't uncommon. Many cultures had markings in order to prove their status in their society, or guilds they might belong to. It was very popular on earth in the past.
"Many of the beings I worked with did."
"What about the one on your arm?"
"Why does it matter why I got them? It's my body." Okay, it looked like Tom was going to get defensive about it. If the pilot didn't want to talk about it that was fine with him.
"Is it possible for you to remove them?" The Doc felt his eyebrow quirk in question, maybe these tattoo's were not wanted as the pilot had led to believe. Interesting.
"The one around your ankle can be removed with no scarring, however; the one on your arm is permanent in every aspect of the word. Though it's design is simple, the coloured substance used has integrated into your genetic structure. I'm afraid it is there forever. Weren't you informed of this when you decided to get it?"
"I didn't ask, they didn't say. Could you remove the one from my ankle please?" Doc nodded and began the short procedure of removal. Neither of them said anything while he worked, and the silence was annoying him. He couldn't stay quiet about his friends return any longer.
"Sickbay has remained fairly dull since you left."
"Really, I'm surprised you would notice the difference." He heard the slight bitterness in Tom's words, and paused a moment before continuing his operation. He needed to speak what was on his mind, and he was pretty sure that Tom needed to hear it.
"It was hard to not notice any difference. I never realized how much I enjoyed having you here annoying me at every possible moment. You were an excellent assistant, but as a patient I could have shot you. Hawkings and Itasin, my new assistants, are nowhere near as entertaining. I think they try to make their shifts as boring as possible." He snapped his tool shut and stood up quickly. He was done. "You are free to leave Mr. Paris."
"Look Doc. I just, you, I…never wanted to be your assistant." The Doc gazed at Tom in amusement as he stumbled for words. "I thought you were an annoying, ignorant program with absolutely no bedside manner. And I was absolutely right, but after I got to know you, you grew on me. You became one of my closest friends and colleagues."
He could see the sincerity in Tom's face. Any doubt that the Doctor had been holding about the man was gone in an instant. This was the same Tom Paris that he had called a friend for years; his time away from the ship hadn't changed that fact. Now the only thing that he really wanted to know was why Tom had left, and exactly what was it he'd been doing that could cause so much physical damage! He wasn't joking when he said some of the damage was severe. There was evidence of broken bones, internal scarring, external scarring. Though it had been expertly mended, there was no hiding it from Voyagers advanced medical scanners, or his own expertise. Tom had been in some serious situations, some which should probably have killed him.
"Doc? I'd like to request that all the medical information from the last year be placed in the 'need to know' medical file only. Consider it strict Doctor patient confidentiality. Seeing as it doesn't have anything to do with my current state of health, it doesn't need to become public knowledge, not even to the Captain." The EMH stared at Tom thoughtfully a moment, he had been expecting a request like this.
"I'll do that Tom, but if I decide that it may affect any situation onboard or off of this ship I will not hesitate to report it to the Captain." Tom frowned slightly and then seemed to accept the terms.
"Thanks Doc." His patient jumped off the biobed, and headed back into the back room to change. The EMH headed back into his office and sat down, leaning into his chair. So, it seemed that Tom had a rough year. Did that mean that there was more to his departure than the simple need to move on with his life explanation that had been oh so popular one year ago? The Doc hadn't really accepted the explanation then, and he was beginning to doubt it even more now. What had his friend been up to?
"Finish your dinner." His voice boomed around the now silent room, and Tom could see every other student there turn to watch and listen.
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't feel well."
"It wasn't a request boy! You receive a certain amount of food every day in order to keep yourself in prime condition. Nothing is ever left on your plate! You will lick it clean if necessary! Is that clear!" Thomas felt his eyes begin to moisten under the reprimanding. He was going to be sick, and all Alkin could do was yell at him, in front of everyone. He didn't like Alkin.
"Yes sir." He choked, and the mountain stormed away to make sure everyone else was eating their meals. Tom choked down the last few bites, and placed his tray in the recycler. As he turned to leave the messhall, he heard the older kids laughing at him.
"Eat all your food, crybaby."
"The pathetic human can't even handle his dinner. No way will he survive basic training. What a weakling. He's an insult to his race. Pah'Tak!" Thomas increased his speed and almost ran out of the large room, close to tears. They were right, he was a weakling.
"Thomas." He halted immediately and a second later was standing a foot away from the wall, frozen in salute, his eyes staring straight ahead. This is how students were expected to act when an officer or trainer was in presence. They were to make the center of the corridor clear for anyone to pass, and they always stood at attention. Once, when Thomas hadn't hurried he had been locked in a small black room for two days, he could barely move. He'd learned his lesson.
Sul'ta walked towards him with the grace of a trained warrior. He practically floated towards him. He hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble for something.
"At ease."
"sir." Thomas followed the order.
"Come with me."
"Aye sir." After a few moments, the Vulcan broke the silence that had settled over him.
"You are having trouble with the other students." It was a statement, and Thomas didn't know whether or not he was supposed to answer. Fortunately Sul'ta continued for him. "The children of this base are of no importance to you, they are merely training partners. You would be best to ignore them when they aggravate you." The Vulcan fell silent again, walking with long strides. Thomas kept the pace easily; he'd been following them for four years.
He didn't know how to respond. Lieutenant Sul'ta very rarely spoke about anything other than his training. He wasn't the most friendly man, but he was very logical. And he wasn't done yet either. Thomas once again listened to his teacher.
"It is a common thing for all species to pick on the younger, weaker, or more gifted people around them. You Thomas, are their target. You were brought here very young, you are small for even your age and species, you are clumsy in your fighting skills, and you show emotions within every crevice of your features. If you wish for the teasing to stop, you must show no emotion. When they see that they are bothering you, then they shall continue, feeding off of your reactions. Control your emotions, and you will control them. It is a manipulation you would do well to perfect. Now, report to your language class."
"Yes sir." Thomas turned right at the next corridor, hurrying to follow his orders, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. He began to immediately make himself like the Vulcan. He didn't want anybody to pick on him anymore.
((/\))
Once Tom made it back to the privacy of his quarters, he lost the calm and neutral look he had erected. Harry had rejected him. Harry hated him! Tom paced his quarters at breakneck speed. He needed to do something, he needed to clean his room! It had to be clean it was just too messy. Good thing Starfleet didn't perform room inspections because he would have failed. The Captain wouldn't approve. No one would approve. Everything was just so messy.
He moved around his room at a speed that most people would be surprised at when considering his height. He grabbed the clothing lying around and stuffed them back into their drawers and into the closet. He was completely focused on his task for about two minutes. He tried to not think about anything but his objective for a spotless and sparkling clean room, but Harry's words kept ringing in his mind. Loud and clear like the ships warning Klaxon's. You're not one of them!
He wasn't surprised about Harry's reaction though. In complete honesty he had expected it, but he had hoped he was wrong as he so often turned out to be. It was how anyone would have reacted. He, Thomas Eugene Paris, had betrayed the trust of his friends and crewmates, now he needed to pay the price. After all, if Harry didn't accept him back, would anyone? Other than Neelix and Tuvok that is. So far they seemed to be his only allies on a ship filled with angry people. The sound of his door sliding open caused him to whip around, and face his uninvited guest. Well, speaking of angry people…
He stood up and watched B'Elanna Torres storm towards him, her eyes afire with emotions. He knew that look in her eyes, he knew what was coming, and he received it full force. She barreled up to him and threw a powerful right hook, connecting hard with his jaw. He staggered back from the force of the blow, before he received another fist in the stomach. He doubled over to protect his bruising gut, and was rewarded with a knee in the mouth. The copper taste of blood coated his tongue from here he'd bitten it, and he fell to his knees on the hard floor, not lifting a finger in defense. He looked up, into her angry eyes, and grimaced at the disgust that he saw.
"I see you've managed to control that temper." He slurred through his swollen lip. He could tell that a few of his teeth were loose.
"Don't even try Paris. Consider this your warning: If you cross my path and so much as look at me in a way I don't like, then you will be right back where you are now." She paused a moment to gather her angry thoughts. He just watched her, his blue eyes beginning to turn into a light shade of gray.
"I thought you had changed. I thought you had honour, but you betrayed my trust in you, and I won't forgive you for that. The worst part about all of this, is that I was always right in my original opinions of you. You are a pig, Paris!" She spat the last word at him, not bothering to hide any of the contempt in her voice, and she turned her back on him, leaving the room in silence. He watched her as she stormed out, and he stared at the door for a long moment after it shut. It took him a moment to realize that she was gone.
He stood with ease and checked the time, his gaze drifting back to the door. Well, it looked like they had just injured one bird with two stones, two big stones, more like boulders actually. He sighed and stared at the floor for a moment; this was not his idea of a family reunion, it was more like a deranged trip through the twilight zone. He'd known that if he ever came back it wouldn't have been under the best of circumstances, but this was worse than he'd thought.
He took a deep breath, and composed himself, firmly locking his look of indifference into place. This didn't bother him, it was just another bump on the road that was his life. He was used to it. He walked silently out of his quarters and into the corridor. He needed to see the doctor, Klingon's, even half Klingon's had more strength then they might be aware of. He needed to get fixed up.
((/\))
The doctor was alerted to a presence in his sick bay when his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the doors sliding open and shut. He quickly removed his feet from the surface of his desk, and stood from his chair to greet the patient.
Well, he was wondering how long it would take the pilot to get here.
"Well Mr. Paris. I was wondering how long it would take you to arrive here." Tom stopped his inspection of the sickbay and turned to the EMH. The swollen red flesh on his face was all the excuse the Doctor needed to wave a hand towards a biobed.
"You sound like you couldn't wait to see me. I'm touched." The tall mans voice held none of the humour that the Doc had expected.
"Hmmph." Was all the Doc felt like saying as he began to scan Tom's injuries. Well, well, he looked at the scans again to be sure he read them right. "I see you stopped in to see B'Elanna before stopping in. I suppose it's better seeing her before, that way you wouldn't have to come right back. Look this way please." He ordered and Tom turned his head to the right. "Just a few loose teeth and some broken veins. I'll repair the ones on your face now, your stomach can wait a few minutes." It hadn't even been a day and Tom had already been attacked, though the Doc couldn't say he hadn't expected it, he'd just hoped it could have been avoided.
He looked at the pilot's pale features. A little sun would do the man good. His face locked in that annoying, emotionless mask. This was probably the one thing that the Doc detested the most about his former medical assistant: His ability to shut himself away from the world and not let anybody in. Whatever the man was feeling at the moment, it was definitely not the calmness he was emitting. The EMH picked up the blue medical gown and handed it to Tom, and Tom rolled his eyes. Ha! Theres was some of the Paris charm the Doc knew!
"You know the drill."
"Yeah, that doesn't mean I have to like it." The Doc shook his head as his patient sauntered off to change in the back room. When he returned and sat on the biobed, the EMH performed a complete physical, frowning at his scanner several times. He made sure he only asked the basic procedure questions first, and uploaded his information into the medical files. Now that that was out of the way, there were some things he really wanted to know.
"Will I live?" Ever the smart ass.
"It's doubtful. I'd like to keep you over night to run a few more tests." He was rewarded with a short laugh, and smiled slightly himself. He hadn't known how Tom would react to him, after all this time, but it didn't look like any sedatives were going to be needed for his medical assistants co- operation. So far, so good.
"Tom, I have a few questions and then you can make yourself scarce." After a nod of agreement he began his tirade. "It was, I believe, under very strict orders that I allowed you to leave here only when you agreed to avoid as much bodily harm as possible! I should have known that you wouldn't listen to me! You never listen to me! It seems you would rather be a human punching bag!" He paused and focused his I-care-and-don't-want- to-admit-it glare on Tom, satisfied when the man cowered back slightly. "How did you manage to obtain all of these injuries in one year! I know they are all mended back together and you're not dead, but humor me."
"Well Doc, you know how dedicated I am to my work. Sometimes getting beat up comes with the job." Tom shrugged his shoulders, and sat up straighter. He must have been the most enthusiastic officer on whatever ship he had gone to if the EMH judged by the extent of some of the injuries. He knew that that was the best answer he would get on that question. Moving on to number two.
"perhaps you would be kind enough to explain the slight chafing, an inch in width around your neck. Was it a collar of some sort?"
"Actually, yeah. It was the style, what could I say?"
"And your rather interesting body art? I never thought that you would be the sort to get a tattoo, let alone two of them. You may start by explaining the interesting design that travels around your ankle like a bracelet."
"Well Doc, I was always jealous of Chakotay and thought 'what the hell!'" The Doctor glared, and Tom continued his explanation. "Seriously though, this one is like a property sticker. It's the evidence of what ship I belong too."
"And did everyone you worked with have one of these 'property tattoo's?'" The idea behind the tattoo was repulsive, but it wasn't uncommon. Many cultures had markings in order to prove their status in their society, or guilds they might belong to. It was very popular on earth in the past.
"Many of the beings I worked with did."
"What about the one on your arm?"
"Why does it matter why I got them? It's my body." Okay, it looked like Tom was going to get defensive about it. If the pilot didn't want to talk about it that was fine with him.
"Is it possible for you to remove them?" The Doc felt his eyebrow quirk in question, maybe these tattoo's were not wanted as the pilot had led to believe. Interesting.
"The one around your ankle can be removed with no scarring, however; the one on your arm is permanent in every aspect of the word. Though it's design is simple, the coloured substance used has integrated into your genetic structure. I'm afraid it is there forever. Weren't you informed of this when you decided to get it?"
"I didn't ask, they didn't say. Could you remove the one from my ankle please?" Doc nodded and began the short procedure of removal. Neither of them said anything while he worked, and the silence was annoying him. He couldn't stay quiet about his friends return any longer.
"Sickbay has remained fairly dull since you left."
"Really, I'm surprised you would notice the difference." He heard the slight bitterness in Tom's words, and paused a moment before continuing his operation. He needed to speak what was on his mind, and he was pretty sure that Tom needed to hear it.
"It was hard to not notice any difference. I never realized how much I enjoyed having you here annoying me at every possible moment. You were an excellent assistant, but as a patient I could have shot you. Hawkings and Itasin, my new assistants, are nowhere near as entertaining. I think they try to make their shifts as boring as possible." He snapped his tool shut and stood up quickly. He was done. "You are free to leave Mr. Paris."
"Look Doc. I just, you, I…never wanted to be your assistant." The Doc gazed at Tom in amusement as he stumbled for words. "I thought you were an annoying, ignorant program with absolutely no bedside manner. And I was absolutely right, but after I got to know you, you grew on me. You became one of my closest friends and colleagues."
He could see the sincerity in Tom's face. Any doubt that the Doctor had been holding about the man was gone in an instant. This was the same Tom Paris that he had called a friend for years; his time away from the ship hadn't changed that fact. Now the only thing that he really wanted to know was why Tom had left, and exactly what was it he'd been doing that could cause so much physical damage! He wasn't joking when he said some of the damage was severe. There was evidence of broken bones, internal scarring, external scarring. Though it had been expertly mended, there was no hiding it from Voyagers advanced medical scanners, or his own expertise. Tom had been in some serious situations, some which should probably have killed him.
"Doc? I'd like to request that all the medical information from the last year be placed in the 'need to know' medical file only. Consider it strict Doctor patient confidentiality. Seeing as it doesn't have anything to do with my current state of health, it doesn't need to become public knowledge, not even to the Captain." The EMH stared at Tom thoughtfully a moment, he had been expecting a request like this.
"I'll do that Tom, but if I decide that it may affect any situation onboard or off of this ship I will not hesitate to report it to the Captain." Tom frowned slightly and then seemed to accept the terms.
"Thanks Doc." His patient jumped off the biobed, and headed back into the back room to change. The EMH headed back into his office and sat down, leaning into his chair. So, it seemed that Tom had a rough year. Did that mean that there was more to his departure than the simple need to move on with his life explanation that had been oh so popular one year ago? The Doc hadn't really accepted the explanation then, and he was beginning to doubt it even more now. What had his friend been up to?