Title: Rocketman
Author: Seema
Email: seemag1@y...
Series: VOY
Rating: PG-13
Codes: P, Neelix, P/T
Part: NEW 1/1
Archive: ASC yes, Rocky's site, everyone else please
ask
Website: http://seema.org
Author's notes: Part of the "Glory Days" series.
Follows immediately after the events of "Act of War",
and "Empty Sky" - it's best to read those stories
first as this one relies heavily on those. The other
"Glory Days" stories can be found on my site
(http://seema.org/myfanfic/gd_index.htm) or Rocky's
(http://www.angelfire.com/yt/rockyroad). Many thanks
to Rocky for the beta.
****
When a friend is lost, the mind is split in half,
Divided between memory of the past and fear of the
future. Harry Kim, Ensign. Only a boy when fate took
you from the arms of blue-green Earth.
- From the sixth season episode, "Muse"
****
Tom Paris swore under his breath as he tripped over
the box in the dark. He stopped himself just in time
for calling for illumination; B'Elanna was sleeping
just a few meters away, though with the amount of
medication in her system, he doubted if even a herd of
targs could wake her. He righted himself, his hand
scraping against the plastic cover of the crate. He
took a deep breath. Harry's things. He'd tripped over
Harry's things.
He looked over his shoulder at the biobed to see if
his bumbling in the dark had disturbed B'Elanna. He
wasn't sure if he felt relief or disappointment - or a
mixture of both - that B'Elanna didn't stir. And if it
hadn't been for the cortical monitor affixed to her
forehead and the screen just off to the side keeping
check on her vital conditions, Tom would have sworn
that his wife was simply sleeping.
Deciding not to take the chance of making more noise
by stumbling in the dark, Tom called in a low voice,
"Computer, lights. Twenty percent."
Tom turned to look back at the box, or rather boxes
clustered in the corner of the room. He had managed to
fit the sum of Harry Kim's life into six standard
Starfleet-issue crates. Everything except for the
uniforms. He'd left them - all but a single dress
uniform - in Harry's closet back on the Livingston;
the dress uniform would be used for Harry's funeral,
scheduled to take place just a few days from now in
San Francisco. Staring at the boxes now, Tom wondered
whether he'd made a mistake in leaving Harry's
uniforms behind for the Livingston's crew to dispose
of? Maybe Harry's parents would want those uniforms,
all nine of them. But it was too late to return to the
Livingston now; the starship, crippled over a week ago
in the Neutral Zone 'conflict' - as Starfleet brass
now referred to the sudden outbreak of hostilities
between the Federation and the Romulans - was now on
its way to Utopia Planetia for much-needed repairs and
he and B'Elanna had transferred to the Pasteur just
eight hours previously, bound for Earth.
Tom sat on one of the boxes. He was tired and he knew
he should get some rest. He had spent a week traveling
from San Francisco to the Neutral Zone, arriving on
the Livingston just the day before. He'd only had
about twelve hours on the Livingston - just enough
time to check on B'Elanna, conference with her doctors
and then to collect Harry's belongings for transport
before the scheduled rendezvous with the Pasteur this
morning. He was grateful that the medical staff on the
Pasteur had been kind enough to give them private
quarters, rather than consigning them to a corner of
Sickbay. Of course, they'd had to bring the medical
equipment with them and the doctors emphasized that
even though B'Elanna's status had been upgraded from
critical to stable, if her condition changed at any
time, they would have to readmit her to Sickbay for
the duration of the trip back to San Francisco.
Despite the comfort of their own private cabin, sleep
didn't come easy for Tom; he'd tossed and turned for
the last hour on the recliner next to her biobed until
finally, he'd gotten up to check on B'Elanna more
closely; given his proximity to her bed, he knew he
would be able to hear her if she called out. She
hadn't reacted when he'd touched her clammy hand or
when he'd smoothed away her hair from her forehead.
But her breathing was even and her pulse steady; this
much he had to be satisfied with.
Tom glanced turned to look at the array of boxes next
to him. He'd spent about three hours in Harry's
quarters on the Livingston, grabbing everything he
could see, everything that could possibly be
meaningful to the Kim family. At first, he had rushed
in his packing, grabbing random items and then,
remembering how Harry was, Tom had forced himself to
slow down and methodically pack the remainder of his
friend's belongings.
Tom took a deep breath and rose. His foot still ached
from where he'd banged it against the box. It was then
he recalled the small case of holochips he had found
on Harry's desk. Where *had* he put it? Tom couldn't
begin to explain it, but at that moment, it was
supremely important to him that he find the holochips.
Urgently, Tom started rifling through the boxes,
finally locating the case in the fourth container. He
held it in his hands, caressing it lightly. Tom
inhaled sharply and then removed the holochip he
wanted.
Tom quickly changed out of his blue pajamas into
loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt. As an afterthought,
he pulled on a pair of loafers, deciding to forgo
socks for the time being. After a quick check on
B'Elanna, he left the guest quarters. Down the
corridors he went, barely aware of the Pasteur's crew
passing him by. Finally, he found the holodeck and
luckily, at this late hour, it was available.
Tom opened the case and selected one chip and plugged
it in. As the doors opened, he found himself in the
monochromatic world of Captain Proton.
"Oh Harry," Tom whispered. He bit his lip as he took a
look around. Everything was exactly as he remembered
it, from the boxy computers to the hard, wooden
furniture and the garish flashing lights. Tom pulled
out a wooden chair and sat down at the desk. He
wondered how long it would be for Chaotica to make an
appearance, or even Queen Arachnia. "Computer, do not
start program until I say so."
"Affirmative."
Tom leaned back in the chair. The room was so empty,
so cavernous, without - without Harry. Shakily, Tom
got to his feet. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone.
But B'Elanna had been drifting in and out of
consciousness for days now and he also didn't think
she was in the shape to talk about Harry's death.
Harry's death.
Tom's heart skipped a beat. He remembered the utter
relief he'd felt when his father had broken the news
that B'Elanna had survived the battle in the Neutral
Zone. However, only a minute later, Owen Paris had
revealed that Kathryn Janeway was so grievously
injured that she'd had to be put into stasis during
the transport to the medical facilities on Vulcan. Tom
had started to relax then, just a little bit; Vulcan
had some of the best doctors on the Federation and he
knew Janeway was in the best possible hands. The
sorrowful expression on his father's face, however,
had told Tom that there was more bad news to come -
news, that Tom in a thousand years, would never have
the time to get used to. Owen Paris had delivered the
crushing news of Harry's death but Tom hadn't been
able to absorb the news properly as in the next
breath, Owen informed Tom that passage had been booked
for him on a fast transport to the Neutral Zone.
"I thought you said B'Elanna would be here in a few
days," Tom had said. He had placed his palm flat on
the top of desk for support. "I thought you said she
was fine." The volume of Tom's voice had risen
slightly.
"Yes, I did, but I was sure you'd want to be with her,
so I took the liberty of making the arrangements for
you," Owen had said. When pressed for more
information, Owen had been evasive - at best - with
the details of B'Elanna's status. The only additional
information Owen had offered was, "She's in critical
condition and the doctors say that the next ten days
are crucial."
Tom had stared at his father in disbelief. "The next
ten days are crucial?" Tom had asked. He'd run his
hand through his hair, trying to hide his shaking
hands. "What does that mean? That's not the same thing
as 'fine', Dad."
"You're a medic," Owen had said softly. "You know that
that means." In a rare demonstration of physical
affection, Owen had placed his hand gently on Tom's
shoulder. "I think you should go out there, Tom."
Tom had nodded, slowly comprehending his father's
words. B'Elanna may have survived the initial battle
but she wasn't out of the woods yet. And from the dire
tone his father's voice had taken on, Tom suspected
that the doctors were pessimistic on her chances for
recovery either.
"I called in some favors, son," Owen had told Tom. "At
the moment, non-essential personnel are not allowed in
areas surrounding the Neutral Zone, at least not until
the situation calms down, but a good friend of mine,
Admiral Necheyev, is heading out there now to resume
negotiations with the Romulans. She has agreed you can
travel on her ship. You leave in a few hours. Don't
worry about the children. Your mother and I will be
happy to take care of them. You need to get
to B'Elanna."
Numbly, Tom had agreed. He had moved almost
mechanically, informing the flight school's secretary
that he would be out for at least a couple of weeks
and that a substitute instructor would be needed to
take over his classes; luckily, he had planned well in
advance and the substitute would be easily able to
follow the course syllabus already written up. Tom's
mother had assured him that she would pack for the
children's stay with them; it was one thing Tom didn't
need to worry about. He decided to tell Miral and Joey
that he was going on a trip to go get Mama and that he
would be back in a few weeks. Neither child had seemed
terribly upset at the prospect of his departure; they
both adored their grandparents and were overjoyed at
the prospect of staying with Owen and Marta Paris for
a few weeks.
The call from the grief-stricken Kims had come just an
hour before he'd departed from San Francisco; could
Tom bring Harry's personal items back to San Francisco
since 'non-essential' personnel were banned from
traveling to the Neutral Zone? They'd also informed
Tom then that they had petitioned against a 'burial'
in space, wanting instead for Harry's body to be
brought to San Francisco. The petition had been
granted and they wanted Tom to bring Harry back to
them. Tom had agreed, but his throat had constricted
as he did so.
"We want to see him one more time," Mary Kim had told
Tom tearfully.
"I understand," Tom had replied mechanically. He'd
only met John and Mary Kim a few times before, most
recently at a party celebrating Harry's assignment to
the Livingston. But Tom's brief encounters with the
Kims had shown just how much their lives revolved
around their only child. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kim. I
can't even begin to put into words-" he had stopped
there, suddenly imagining their positions reversed and
that it was Miral or Joey who had died. The lump in
Tom's throat had prevented him speaking.
"You were Harry's best friend," John Kim had
interrupted. "Since we cannot go ourselves to the
Livingston, we feel so relieved that it is you who
will bring Harry's things for us and not some
stranger. It makes it... easier."
"I understand," Tom had said again, finding it hard to
say anything else. He was grieving for Harry as well,
but he knew that it had to be a million times worse
for Harry's parents; they'd lost their son once before
to the Delta Quadrant and now, a scant six years
later, they'd lost him again - this time forever. "Mr.
and Mrs. Kim, I'm so sorry. I-" he'd stopped there,
once again at a loss for words. And then he'd simply
said, "I'll bring Harry's things for you."
Now, as Tom wandered around the holodeck, his throat
tightened again. Here he had played Captain Proton and
Harry had been his loyal sidekick, Buster Kincaid. The
last time they'd 'played' in this scenario on Voyager
had been the week before Miral's birth. The Delaney
sisters had participated and they had even managed to
talk Seven into joining them as well. And that last
time, Neelix had been there and had managed to wheedle
his way into playing the part of an evil overlord. The
casting had been incongruous, to say the least, but
Neelix had enjoyed himself greatly.
A few days later, Neelix had chosen to leave Voyager,
to start a new life with Dexa and Brax - the Talaxian
woman and her son with whom he'd formed instant bonds
when Voyager had unexpectedly discovered a colony of
Talaxians. If I'd only known that that was the last
time, Tom thought a little sadly. But at the same
time, he'd been happy that Neelix had found happiness
with Dexa and Brax; Tom had always been aware that
Neelix continued to miss Kes and hadn't had a serious
relationship since Kes' departure - the brief and
tragic affair with Talli on the Mari planet
notwithstanding. Tom ran his fingers over the
computer. Once he'd admired the blinking lights, the
knobs and levers; he had always enjoyed the more
manual controls than the automated computer wizardry
and he'd incorporated that same 'rudimentary
engineering' - B'Elanna called it - into the Delta
Flyer. Neelix had been fascinated, to say the least,
with the primitive Captain Proton setting and Tom
could still remember him cackling - as an evil
overlord should, Neelix had insisted.
It occurred to Tom that someone would have to tell
Neelix about what had happened. He took a deep breath.
Janeway was in no condition to deliver the news - if
she even knew what had happened. Tuvok was on Vulcan
and Tom knew that if even if Janeway weren't on
Vulcan, Tuvok would already be at her side - no matter
the distance. Tom also hadn't heard from Chakotay or
Seven in months. B'Elanna had been close to Neelix but
Tom knew that she wouldn't be up to talking about
Harry to the Talaxian - or anything else, for that
matter. Which left the task of informing Neelix to
him.
Tom pondered; should he wait? After all, the message
wouldn't be transmitted to Neelix until after they
returned to Earth and even so, it would take several
days for it to reach Neelix after it was sent as well.
Tom took another long look around the holodeck,
feeling lonely and hollow inside. He wanted - no,
*needed* - someone to talk to. On Voyager, there had
been no counselors to help them through the difficult
times, but they'd been able to comfort each other and
share in each other's pain. At the moment, Tom Paris
felt very, very alone. It wouldn't be the same as
having Neelix here in the room with him, but Tom knew
that Neelix was a wonderful listener; in fact, Tom had
managed to have entire conversations with the Talaxian
without Neelix ever saying a word. And those talks had
always ended up with Tom feeling much, much better.
"Computer, begin recording. Audio and visual both."
Tom eyed the chair. Should he sit for this? How long
did it take to convey bad news anyway? Better yet, how
to start a message like this? He chose to remain
standing. "It's Tom." He laughed, almost shakily.
"Guess you figured that out by now, huh?" He cleared
his throat. It seemed impersonal to come right out and
say that Harry was dead, had died in the line of duty,
and his funeral would be next week. Tom twisted his
hands together. Damn it, this was *Janeway's* job, not
his; commanding officers bore the brunt of relaying
bad news, not helm officers. He paused then, realizing
that unconsciously he still thought of himself on
Voyager, of Janeway still being his commanding
officer. Tom felt an irrational burst of anger at
being placed in this position, but then pushed it
away; it would do no good to blame Janeway or anyone
else for what had happened in the Neutral Zone. He
decided then that he wouldn't sit down - he had too
much nervous energy to burn and somehow, walking made
him think more lucidly.
"I wish you were here, Neelix," Tom continued. "You'd
know what to do. You'd know what to say." He shook his
head as he rounded the computer and climbed a step
towards the time machine. "My problem is, I'm not sure
how to start or what to say. It would be different if
you were sitting right here with me. It's easier, you
know, to talk to a person than to record a message.
I'm just going to talk, okay, Neelix? I may edit
later, I may not. I'm not really sure. I hope you
understand." Tom took a deep breath, pausing a second
to let the emotion clear from his voice before
continuing on.
"You always had the right words, Neelix. I always
envied that." Tom wiped his hand against his face.
"And I feel terrible now because I never responded to
your last note. The one you sent six or seven months
ago. You had good news to report, that you and Dexa
were expecting a baby. I imagine he or she is here by
now." Tom paused. "Also, congratulations on
establishing a new trade route. It sounds to me like
you've really done well for yourself. I hope you're
happy and well-established in your life now. It
certainly sounds like you are." Tom sat heavily in the
wooden chair. There was no way to gently cushion the
news; he had to come out and say it directly. "I wish
I wasn't sending bad news, Neelix, I really wish I
wasn't. As you might guess from this message's
signature, I'm talking to you from aboard a medical
ship, the Pasteur. I'm here because B'Elanna is very
ill from injuries sustained during a battle in the
Neutral Zone and Harry-" he swallowed hard - "Harry is
dead. He died in the line of duty in that same
battle."
Tom paused. The battle in the Neutral Zone had erupted
without warning; until that moment, all signs had
pointed to a successful resolution in the conflict
between the Romulans and the Ponzi raiders who
insisted on preying on both Federation and Romulan
colonies on either side of the Neutral Zone. From what
little B'Elanna had been able to tell him and the
information he'd gathered from reports his father had
supplied him with, Tom surmised that the captain of
the Federation starship Amherst had been a little
trigger-happy and had decided to fire a warning shot
at a Ponzi ship; the misguided missile had slammed
into a Romulan freighter instead, causing the Romulans
to fire back at the Amherst.
"It escalated from there. B'Elanna's ship - the
Minuteman - responded to the Amherst's distress call.
I'm sure B'Elanna mentioned the Minuteman to you; she
was one of the chief engineers responsible for the
design specs of the new Mars-class ships. Harry
shouldn't have even been there. He was assigned to the
Livingston and he and Janeway beamed over to the
Minuteman perhaps an hour at most before hostilities
broke out." Tom cleared his throat. The reports had
indicated severe damage to the Minuteman due to the
Romulans' new weapons' technology and B'Elanna had
been forced to eject the warp core, which had been
leaking massive amounts of radiation. Somewhere along
the line, Harry had shown
up to assist B'Elanna and the other engineers in
trying to salvage the ship.
"Harry was injured in one of the Jefferies tubes. He
and B'Elanna were trapped there, trying to reroute
critical systems in order to erect force fields and
keep the Minuteman space worthy until help arrived. It
should have been a safe place to wait, but the battle
wasn't over. The aftershock of the Amherst's
destruction caused a massive shockwave and Harry was
thrown up against the wall," Tom said. He cleared his
throat before continuing. "He sustained severe head
trauma. However, it was a 'slow bleeder' so he managed
to keep consciousness but B'Elanna was concerned for
him. He told B'Elanna that it wasn't serious when she
insisted he go to Sickbay and when they were beamed to
the Livingston, he insisted that she get treatment
before him. She was having trouble breathing, but you
know B'Elanna-" Tom shook his head - "she was adamant
about Harry. Only the doctors' intervention caused her
to accept medical help before Harry; they said she was
suffering from pulmonary distress." Tom took a deep
breath. He had visualized this scene in his mind many
times, thinking on how chaotic the Livingston's
sickbay must have been. "Harry died an hour later.
Quietly and-" Tom cleared his throat - "alone."
Tom had talked to the doctors when he'd first arrived
aboard the Livingston. They'd found Harry Kim sitting
in a chair, leaning against the wall, his eyes
half-closed, his expression relaxed. No pain, the
doctors had told Tom, he just slipped away, quietly
and peacefully.
"It sounds like negligence, Neelix, but it really
wasn't. The Livingston's sickbay was in chaos. They
didn't have enough medical personnel or equipment to
treat the injured. You know how it is in a hostile
situation. Events move so quickly, you make decisions
without thinking them through clearly and you just
hope that you've done the right thing. Harry insisted
he felt fine and it was obvious to everyone that
B'Elanna needed surgery immediately or she would die.
And while she was in surgery, Harry sat down to wait."
Tom paused. "The doctors insist that he felt nothing,
but it still haunts me, that he died alone and I can't
stop thinking about." Tom rose from his seat, his
heart beating rapidly as he twisted his hands
together. "I sometimes wonder if that's a lie we tell
the survivors, that the victim felt nothing because it
eases the loss for us." Tom stopped. "But I can't
believe it, that he was there, that he was within
inches of help and still..." Tom shook his head. "But
that's such a 'Harry' thing to do, you know? Playing
the hero? Wanting to be the one to take care of his
friends?"
Tom swallowed hard and then continued his pacing. "I
just came from the Livingston, his ship, where he
should have been all along, Neelix. Or rather, I
arrived earlier this morning. I had to pack Harry's
things for his parents. No, that makes it sound like I
didn't want to do it. I did want to do it. I thought
it would be easy. After all, it's just *things*,
right? Inanimate objects? How hard could it be?" Tom
stopped. "His quarters were perfect, as always. You
know how Harry was. All hospital corners. Everything
in its place, not a speck of dust anywhere."
It had been eerie in those first few minutes. He'd
stood in the middle of Harry's quarters, unable to
even think of where to start. Despite Harry's neatness
and organization, Tom had been overwhelmed by the task
in front of him. The fact that B'Elanna would wake in
a couple hours and she'd need him as well as only
having a few hours to get the task done propelled Tom
into action. He'd moved mechanically, first wrapping
up the personal items on the desk and then moving to
the closet to fold away the uniforms. At the bottom of
the closet, he'd found Harry's footlocker.
Hunching down, Tom had popped it open. He'd found
Harry's personal letters there, and in a small box,
holoimages. Tom had stopped then, his fingers
clutching the edge of the box as he'd stared at the
memories Harry had carefully preserved. In typically
Harry fashion, each one had been carefully labeled
with stardate and the names of the individuals in the
pictures. There had been several of Tom and Harry
together, including one of them dressed up to 'play'
in the Captain Proton scenario. Tom swallowed hard; he
had the exact same picture in his office back at the
Academy. He carefully replaced the picture in the box,
placing it aside for Harry's parents.
"Harry had his saxophone and clarinet both on board
the Livingston. I wanted to ask someone if he played
still but I couldn't find anyone to ask. But I'm sure,
if there weren't already a quartet on board the
Livingston, he would have formed one himself. You know
Harry. He loved to play those instruments," Tom said.
His throat was starting to feel hoarse. "It really
bothered me when I saw the saxophone and clarinet
cases. It hit me then, that I'd never hear Harry
perform again and how I never told him on Voyager that
I appreciated his music. I think it was in that moment
the reality of what had happened became real for me."
Tom shook his head. "The trip on Admiral Necheyev's
ship to rendezvous with the Livingston was
nerve-wracking. I was comfortable, physically
comfortable, that is. I had a stateroom, the type they
assign to visiting diplomats. Despite the luxury, I
couldn't relax for a second. I couldn't eat, I
couldn't sleep, and I couldn't sit still. I was so
worried about B'Elanna - they, the doctors - wouldn't
tell me exactly what had happened to her, and they
were equally reticent about the Admiral Janeway's
condition. I've never been so frightened in my life,
Neelix. It's a long time to be alone with your
thoughts. A very, very long time. Memories blur,
recollections fade, and I was frantic, trying to
remember everything about Harry, and all the things we
experienced together, all the times - good and
bad--that we shared." Tom remembered the utter panic
he'd felt when he'd realized he was already starting
to forget Harry's mannerisms, things Harry had said.
It had bothered Tom greatly because, after all, he'd
just met Harry in a chance encounter the previous year
at Starbase 4. "Somewhere between Earth and the
Livingston, I decided that it couldn't be true. It was
all just a big mistake. Harry wasn't dead. He couldn't
be, because selfish as it sounds, I had too much to
say to him and there was so much that he still needed
to do."
Tom's hands shook and all of his emotions welled up in
his throat once again. He wasn't the type to cry, but
he felt closer to a meltdown than ever before; even
Caldik Prime had not had this same kind of intensity.
Back then he'd thought that the loss of his friends,
due to his negligence, had been the worst thing that
could have ever happened to him. But he'd managed to
numb that pain and somehow push it behind him so that
it didn't hurt as much. This time, it was different.
Harry had been his best friend - someone who had
accepted Tom unconditionally.
"Even though my father had told me about Harry, I
didn't really understand what it meant. I know that
must sound crazy because really, what's there to
understand? If someone is dead, they're dead. It's
pretty straight-forward, but in my mind, it wasn't
something I could comprehend," Tom said. He took a
deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "How could
it be real? Harry had his entire life in front of him
and his career was finally going in the direction he
wanted it to be. The last time I saw him, he was-" Tom
paused, looking for the right words. Harry had been
his usual responsible self, wanting to get back to the
science conference, but Tom had urged him, for old
time's sake, for another go in the Captain Proton
scenario. Now Tom was intensely grateful that he had
forced the issue.
"The first time I met Harry, we were on Deep Space
Nine, at Quark's. He was striking a deal with the
Ferengi bartender and was being taken for a ride, by
the looks of it." Tom chuckled briefly at the memory.
"I don't know what it was about Harry that made me
want to step in, because, as you know, back then, I
could be just as mercenary and cold-hearted as a
Ferengi if I wanted to be. But I did and from then
on, I always thought of Harry as someone I needed to
look out for. Perhaps as a way to redeem myself, or
maybe it was because of the unconditional way Harry
accepted me and my past, even when Commander Cavit and
Dr. Fitzgerald warned him against me." Tom smiled
wryly - a bit inappropriately as well. "You never had
the displeasure of meeting these two gentlemen,
Neelix, but they didn't care for me as they'd made up
their minds about me and weren't inclined to change
them. Unfortunately, they had the capacity to
influence the rest of the crew, except for Harry. He
told them that he was capable of choosing his own
friends. It was such a contrast from the way the rest
of Voyager's crew treated me."
Tom was on a roll now. He could feel the words coming
out more easily. "I always thought of Harry as my
sidekick, you know? Buster Kincaid to my Captain
Proton?" Tom gestured to his surroundings, knowing
that Neelix would recognize the program. "But when we
were in the Aquitiri prison, it was different. When he
first arrived in the prison, I immediately took
responsibility for him. I was convinced that Harry
wouldn't be able to survive the prison without me.
After all, *he'd* never been to prison before. Hell,
I'd never been to a prison like this one either; New
Zealand was a luxury resort compared to this one." Tom
shook his head at the memory. It had taken months for
the ghosts of the Aquitarian prison to stop haunting
his dreams; still, on occasion, he'd wake in a cold
sweat, wondering if someone had plans to slit his
throat so they could steal his boots.
"But things changed after I got stabbed and I was weak
from blood loss and fever. Harry took care of me and
even then I wasn't sure Harry could take care of
himself, let alone me. I urged him to save himself,
not to think of me at all if he could find a way out."
Tom laid a hand on the back of the wooden chair. "But
Harry wouldn't think of it. We saw the worst of people
when we were there and I'm convinced that if Harry
hadn't stepped in, hadn't claimed me for his own-"
here Tom paused to chuckle, remembering Harry's
exclamation of "This man is mine!" - "I wouldn't have
lived through the experience. I'll never forget the
force with which he told those pressing for him to
kill me that nobody would touch me; I was his friend.
After that, I looked at Harry a little differently.
Not just as a good buddy, someone to kill time with,
to play on the holodeck with, but someone who was
genuinely going to be there through good times and
bad. I knew I would be able to depend on him, that his
loyalty went far deeper than I ever imagined."
Tom looked around the room. He remembered spending
long hours on the Captain Proton scenario; he'd made
it a point to create a new holoprogram every year to
share with the crew, along with the Sandrine's program
he'd brought with him aboard Voyager. The resort
program he'd created had been popular enough - he
still had fond memories of B'Elanna in her 'tropical'
sundress - but he knew he had hit pay dirt when he'd
stumbled across the Captain Proton stories. Many of
his fellow crewmembers including the Delaney twins and
Seven had joined him and Harry here, enjoying the
campy and vampish feel of the program. On one rare
occasion, Janeway had been conscripted into the part
of Queen Arachnia, under duress, the Captain had
insisted, but Tom had silently noted that it looked as
if Janeway *was* indeed enjoying herself. B'Elanna, on
the other hand, had never cared much for the Captain
Proton program. She'd deemed the program silly (she
hadn't had much love for Fair Haven either), but Tom
pointed out that silliness was the precise reason why
Captain Proton was so popular. It gave the crew a
chance to fight an enemy - Chaotica, for instance -
that they knew, without doubt, that they could defeat.
And Harry had never mentioned it directly, but Tom
knew that Harry enjoyed flirting with Constance
Goodheart, whether 'she' be the holographic version or
the one who was occasionally played by a female member
of the crew.
"Harry always fell for the wrong girl," Tom said, his
voice lightening as he recalled Harry's 'romantic'
escapades. His friend's disastrous luck with women - a
group that included a hologram, the 'wrong twin,' an
alien, a dead crewman, a saboteur - had amused Tom
greatly and when they'd returned to Earth, Tom, in
domestic bliss, had been relieved to learn that Harry
had resumed his relationship with Libby. Perhaps, Tom
had thought at the time, all of those other 'affairs'
- including Tal, the alien woman who had 'infected'
Harry - had been simply a way of forgetting the woman
he'd really loved. But the relationship with Libby
lasted less than a year after Voyager's return.
Harry's only statement on the matter was that he and
Libby would always care for each other deeply; they
were both different people now and they needed to move
on with their lives and he would always wish Libby
well. "But he seemed happy enough with the decision.
Harry had his mind set on command track. I'm pretty
sure he was aiming for the admiralty. I believe he was
emulating Janeway; he admired her greatly and wanted
nothing more than her approval. It bothered him that
she never promoted him in the DQ and I'm sure a part
of him wondered if he truly measured up to her
standards. That's another thing I would want to tell
Harry. That I really think he could have done it,
would have done it. I really believe he would have
made a hell of a captain. He was smart, ambitious,
resourceful - all good traits in a Starfleet officer.
But more importantly, he was genuine, sincere, caring.
He didn't play politics like others did and he didn't
always take the easy way out. He was a fine officer,
Neelix, but more importantly, he was a fine man."
Tom closed his eyes. He was starting to feel sleepy
and his voice was growing hoarse from talking. "I
should probably tell you a little about Janeway and
B'Elanna. I know you must be worried about them as
well. My father informed me that Janeway had been
placed in stasis for transport to Vulcan as her
condition was serious. The last bit of intelligence
says that she is currently expected to recover from
her injuries." Tom stopped, thinking of the bit of
information he'd received shortly before boarding the
transport to rendezvous with the Livingston. Despite
massive injuries, Janeway had remained in control on
the Bridge of the Minuteman in its final minutes,
continuing to negotiate with the Romulans for a
ceasefire. He'd also learned the captain of the
Minuteman, John Phillips, had been confident that the
ship could be saved, that Janeway would be able to
successfully convince the Romulans to stop their
attacks; as such, no order had been given to evacuate
the ship. The order had come later - from Janeway -
after Captain Phillips had been killed. By then, it
had been too late. Portions of the ship had been
impassable and those who had survived the initial
blasts, like Harry and B'Elanna, were blocked from
reaching the escape pods. Others had perished from
smoke inhalation and still more had succumbed to
severe radiation poisoning.
"B'Elanna is very ill, Neelix." Tom gave in to his
fatigue and sat down. The hard wooden chair gave him
the support he so desperately needed and for that
reason, he was able to disregard the discomfort.
"Radiation poisoning, much of it due to exposure
during the warp core meltdown. You know B'Elanna. She
was in Engineering until the very last minute, trying
to erect a force field around the warp core. She was
the last one out after ejecting the core. Another
stubborn officer -I always said she and Janeway had a
lot in common." Tom pressed his lips into a thin line.
"And that was before she and Harry were doing their
best to hold the ship together from a main junction in
the Jefferies tube which was a smart move to make on
their part. They didn't know though that it was also
an area with a severe concentration of radiation
fallout." Tom shook his head in disbelief. The doctors
had given him a readout of their estimation of what
the radiation levels in Engineering and the Jefferies
tubes had been - 10 gray - and knowing that, Tom had
been shocked that B'Elanna had even survived the
exposure. The doctors had credited B'Elanna's Klingon
physique, the redundant organs, for making it possible
for her to survive when so many others had perished.
"The doctors are cautiously optimistic about
B'Elanna's chances. They say if she makes it past the
six-week mark, we're out of the woods. I don't have to
tell you, Neelix, about radiation poisoning, about how
most people die within two to four weeks when they've
been hit with a lethal dose of that magnitude. But
B'Elanna's strong and she's going to make it." He said
this last bit with a burst of confidence; the doctors'
reports had been initially pessimistic but more
recently, they had changed their tune to 'cautiously
optimistic.'
Tom rose, feeling he could no longer keep his
exhaustion at bay; perhaps moving around would give
him the energy necessary to finish his letter to
Neelix. How long had he been here anyway? He cleared
his throat. "I've got to go check on her, Neelix.
She's so weak now, dehydrated, nauseated, and in a lot
of pain. It's hard to see her like this, Neelix, and
not know what to do for her. The doctors say we have
to wait and see; conventional treatments for radiation
sickness didn't work for B'Elanna, possibly due to the
fact she's been exposed to so much radiation over the
past ten to twelve years that the medications have
simply lost their potency." Tom sighed. He knew
B'Elanna appreciated his presence by her bedside, but
at the same time, he knew she resented her dependence
on him as well. "You know as well as I do that
B'Elanna hates being coddled and she'll want to go
back to the way things used to be. She'll want to work
long hours again at the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.
But somehow, I'm going to have to convince her that
things are going to have to change because we can't
anticipate what the long-term effects of radiation
poisoning will be. I know she won't want to slow down,
that's not B'Elanna's way, but I'm afraid for the near
future, that that's the way it's going to be." He
stopped. "I'm worried about her emotional state as
well, Neelix. She knows about Harry and to say she's
devastated would be putting it lightly."
Tom had been furious when he'd learned that the
doctors onboard the Livingston had told B'Elanna about
Harry. He'd been hoping to tell her himself, knowing
that B'Elanna would take Harry's death hard. She
hadn't talked much about Harry in the two days they'd
been together and this worried Tom; B'Elanna had a way
of repressing her feelings when she was upset. She'd
come a long way from acting out her emotions in
suicidal holodeck programs. He'd already decided, when
they got back to San Francisco, he'd make an
appointment for B'Elanna to see a counselor. She'd
fight him, he knew, but he'd be firm about it. So many
times on Voyager they'd needed someone desperately to
help them, and now that they had the best counselors
in Starfleet available to them, Tom was determined to
take advantage of their services.
"Maybe it's better that B'Elanna is aware of what
happened to Harry, I don't know. I was just concerned
that it would slow her recovery, but I have to have
faith in her." Without thinking, Tom quirked a smile.
"You know B'Elanna. There's no challenge she can't
overcome once she puts her mind to it. And you know
something else? I'm counting on it."
Tom headed to the door. "I wish you were here, Neelix.
Not just because I know you'd be the perfect one to
help us figure out what's going on, but also because
you're a good friend." Tom took a deep breath. "And
God knows, we could all use a good friend. It's only
recently that I'm starting to appreciate what we all
had together on Voyager and how easily it can be lost.
I want you to know, Neelix, even though you're far
away, you're not forgotten. You still occupy a place
in our hearts." Tom's lips turned upwards and his tone
lightened slightly. "After all, if it hadn't been for
you, Neelix, B'Elanna and I would have never gotten
married. So, we owe you. A lot. Take care, Neelix.
I'll contact you again, hopefully under better
circumstances." Tom gently touched the metallic
surface of a large, boxy computer mainframe. "Computer
end recording and transmit to personal database of Tom
Paris, authorization alpha zeta five." Tom took one
last, lingering look around the Captain Proton set.
Instinctively, he knew that he would never return to
this program. "Goodbye, old friend. Computer, end
program."
****
"What is it?" Dexa stood behind Neelix, her eyes
focused on the fading image of Tom Paris. She was
holding a very sleepy baby in her arms. "Is something
wrong?"
Neelix inhaled deeply before turning to Dexa. The
initial joy of receiving a message from Tom Paris had
dissipated once he realized what the message
contained. "It's about Harry Kim."
Dexa's hand tightened on Neelix's shoulder. "Bad news?
It sounded like it."
"The very worst kind." Neelix pressed the 'rewind'
button; he wanted to watch the vid one more time.
Tom's message had been a little repetitious, a little
rambling, but that was understandable, given the
circumstances the message had been recorded under. It
would take several more viewings before Tom's words
actually sunk in. "Harry was killed in action." It
sounded strange to actually say the words out-loud.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dexa said softly. Dexa
hadn't known Harry that well, but Neelix had told her
plenty of stories and he knew that her words were
heartfelt and sincere. She leaned down to kiss Neelix
lightly on the cheek. "Brax and I'll be in the nursery
with Alixia." Neelix reached up to gently touch the
now sleeping baby in Dexa's arms on the head.
"Thank you," Neelix said, grateful that Dexa had
sensed his need to be alone to absorb the news. He
*was* lucky, Neelix thought, and he *was* happy with
the life he had now, comfortable with the decision
he'd made not to continue on to the Alpha Quadrant
with Voyager. But still, at times like this, his heart
ached for his friends and he was reminded again just
how much he missed them all. He cleared his throat. As
hard as it had been for Tom Paris to dictate the bad
news, Neelix knew it would be equally difficult to
respond to Tom; Tom had given him too much credit when
he had said that Neelix always 'had the right words.'
Some things simply couldn't be put into words, Neelix
knew. Taking a deep breath, Neelix began to compose a
response to Tom.
~ the end
Author: Seema
Email: seemag1@y...
Series: VOY
Rating: PG-13
Codes: P, Neelix, P/T
Part: NEW 1/1
Archive: ASC yes, Rocky's site, everyone else please
ask
Website: http://seema.org
Author's notes: Part of the "Glory Days" series.
Follows immediately after the events of "Act of War",
and "Empty Sky" - it's best to read those stories
first as this one relies heavily on those. The other
"Glory Days" stories can be found on my site
(http://seema.org/myfanfic/gd_index.htm) or Rocky's
(http://www.angelfire.com/yt/rockyroad). Many thanks
to Rocky for the beta.
****
When a friend is lost, the mind is split in half,
Divided between memory of the past and fear of the
future. Harry Kim, Ensign. Only a boy when fate took
you from the arms of blue-green Earth.
- From the sixth season episode, "Muse"
****
Tom Paris swore under his breath as he tripped over
the box in the dark. He stopped himself just in time
for calling for illumination; B'Elanna was sleeping
just a few meters away, though with the amount of
medication in her system, he doubted if even a herd of
targs could wake her. He righted himself, his hand
scraping against the plastic cover of the crate. He
took a deep breath. Harry's things. He'd tripped over
Harry's things.
He looked over his shoulder at the biobed to see if
his bumbling in the dark had disturbed B'Elanna. He
wasn't sure if he felt relief or disappointment - or a
mixture of both - that B'Elanna didn't stir. And if it
hadn't been for the cortical monitor affixed to her
forehead and the screen just off to the side keeping
check on her vital conditions, Tom would have sworn
that his wife was simply sleeping.
Deciding not to take the chance of making more noise
by stumbling in the dark, Tom called in a low voice,
"Computer, lights. Twenty percent."
Tom turned to look back at the box, or rather boxes
clustered in the corner of the room. He had managed to
fit the sum of Harry Kim's life into six standard
Starfleet-issue crates. Everything except for the
uniforms. He'd left them - all but a single dress
uniform - in Harry's closet back on the Livingston;
the dress uniform would be used for Harry's funeral,
scheduled to take place just a few days from now in
San Francisco. Staring at the boxes now, Tom wondered
whether he'd made a mistake in leaving Harry's
uniforms behind for the Livingston's crew to dispose
of? Maybe Harry's parents would want those uniforms,
all nine of them. But it was too late to return to the
Livingston now; the starship, crippled over a week ago
in the Neutral Zone 'conflict' - as Starfleet brass
now referred to the sudden outbreak of hostilities
between the Federation and the Romulans - was now on
its way to Utopia Planetia for much-needed repairs and
he and B'Elanna had transferred to the Pasteur just
eight hours previously, bound for Earth.
Tom sat on one of the boxes. He was tired and he knew
he should get some rest. He had spent a week traveling
from San Francisco to the Neutral Zone, arriving on
the Livingston just the day before. He'd only had
about twelve hours on the Livingston - just enough
time to check on B'Elanna, conference with her doctors
and then to collect Harry's belongings for transport
before the scheduled rendezvous with the Pasteur this
morning. He was grateful that the medical staff on the
Pasteur had been kind enough to give them private
quarters, rather than consigning them to a corner of
Sickbay. Of course, they'd had to bring the medical
equipment with them and the doctors emphasized that
even though B'Elanna's status had been upgraded from
critical to stable, if her condition changed at any
time, they would have to readmit her to Sickbay for
the duration of the trip back to San Francisco.
Despite the comfort of their own private cabin, sleep
didn't come easy for Tom; he'd tossed and turned for
the last hour on the recliner next to her biobed until
finally, he'd gotten up to check on B'Elanna more
closely; given his proximity to her bed, he knew he
would be able to hear her if she called out. She
hadn't reacted when he'd touched her clammy hand or
when he'd smoothed away her hair from her forehead.
But her breathing was even and her pulse steady; this
much he had to be satisfied with.
Tom glanced turned to look at the array of boxes next
to him. He'd spent about three hours in Harry's
quarters on the Livingston, grabbing everything he
could see, everything that could possibly be
meaningful to the Kim family. At first, he had rushed
in his packing, grabbing random items and then,
remembering how Harry was, Tom had forced himself to
slow down and methodically pack the remainder of his
friend's belongings.
Tom took a deep breath and rose. His foot still ached
from where he'd banged it against the box. It was then
he recalled the small case of holochips he had found
on Harry's desk. Where *had* he put it? Tom couldn't
begin to explain it, but at that moment, it was
supremely important to him that he find the holochips.
Urgently, Tom started rifling through the boxes,
finally locating the case in the fourth container. He
held it in his hands, caressing it lightly. Tom
inhaled sharply and then removed the holochip he
wanted.
Tom quickly changed out of his blue pajamas into
loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt. As an afterthought,
he pulled on a pair of loafers, deciding to forgo
socks for the time being. After a quick check on
B'Elanna, he left the guest quarters. Down the
corridors he went, barely aware of the Pasteur's crew
passing him by. Finally, he found the holodeck and
luckily, at this late hour, it was available.
Tom opened the case and selected one chip and plugged
it in. As the doors opened, he found himself in the
monochromatic world of Captain Proton.
"Oh Harry," Tom whispered. He bit his lip as he took a
look around. Everything was exactly as he remembered
it, from the boxy computers to the hard, wooden
furniture and the garish flashing lights. Tom pulled
out a wooden chair and sat down at the desk. He
wondered how long it would be for Chaotica to make an
appearance, or even Queen Arachnia. "Computer, do not
start program until I say so."
"Affirmative."
Tom leaned back in the chair. The room was so empty,
so cavernous, without - without Harry. Shakily, Tom
got to his feet. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone.
But B'Elanna had been drifting in and out of
consciousness for days now and he also didn't think
she was in the shape to talk about Harry's death.
Harry's death.
Tom's heart skipped a beat. He remembered the utter
relief he'd felt when his father had broken the news
that B'Elanna had survived the battle in the Neutral
Zone. However, only a minute later, Owen Paris had
revealed that Kathryn Janeway was so grievously
injured that she'd had to be put into stasis during
the transport to the medical facilities on Vulcan. Tom
had started to relax then, just a little bit; Vulcan
had some of the best doctors on the Federation and he
knew Janeway was in the best possible hands. The
sorrowful expression on his father's face, however,
had told Tom that there was more bad news to come -
news, that Tom in a thousand years, would never have
the time to get used to. Owen Paris had delivered the
crushing news of Harry's death but Tom hadn't been
able to absorb the news properly as in the next
breath, Owen informed Tom that passage had been booked
for him on a fast transport to the Neutral Zone.
"I thought you said B'Elanna would be here in a few
days," Tom had said. He had placed his palm flat on
the top of desk for support. "I thought you said she
was fine." The volume of Tom's voice had risen
slightly.
"Yes, I did, but I was sure you'd want to be with her,
so I took the liberty of making the arrangements for
you," Owen had said. When pressed for more
information, Owen had been evasive - at best - with
the details of B'Elanna's status. The only additional
information Owen had offered was, "She's in critical
condition and the doctors say that the next ten days
are crucial."
Tom had stared at his father in disbelief. "The next
ten days are crucial?" Tom had asked. He'd run his
hand through his hair, trying to hide his shaking
hands. "What does that mean? That's not the same thing
as 'fine', Dad."
"You're a medic," Owen had said softly. "You know that
that means." In a rare demonstration of physical
affection, Owen had placed his hand gently on Tom's
shoulder. "I think you should go out there, Tom."
Tom had nodded, slowly comprehending his father's
words. B'Elanna may have survived the initial battle
but she wasn't out of the woods yet. And from the dire
tone his father's voice had taken on, Tom suspected
that the doctors were pessimistic on her chances for
recovery either.
"I called in some favors, son," Owen had told Tom. "At
the moment, non-essential personnel are not allowed in
areas surrounding the Neutral Zone, at least not until
the situation calms down, but a good friend of mine,
Admiral Necheyev, is heading out there now to resume
negotiations with the Romulans. She has agreed you can
travel on her ship. You leave in a few hours. Don't
worry about the children. Your mother and I will be
happy to take care of them. You need to get
to B'Elanna."
Numbly, Tom had agreed. He had moved almost
mechanically, informing the flight school's secretary
that he would be out for at least a couple of weeks
and that a substitute instructor would be needed to
take over his classes; luckily, he had planned well in
advance and the substitute would be easily able to
follow the course syllabus already written up. Tom's
mother had assured him that she would pack for the
children's stay with them; it was one thing Tom didn't
need to worry about. He decided to tell Miral and Joey
that he was going on a trip to go get Mama and that he
would be back in a few weeks. Neither child had seemed
terribly upset at the prospect of his departure; they
both adored their grandparents and were overjoyed at
the prospect of staying with Owen and Marta Paris for
a few weeks.
The call from the grief-stricken Kims had come just an
hour before he'd departed from San Francisco; could
Tom bring Harry's personal items back to San Francisco
since 'non-essential' personnel were banned from
traveling to the Neutral Zone? They'd also informed
Tom then that they had petitioned against a 'burial'
in space, wanting instead for Harry's body to be
brought to San Francisco. The petition had been
granted and they wanted Tom to bring Harry back to
them. Tom had agreed, but his throat had constricted
as he did so.
"We want to see him one more time," Mary Kim had told
Tom tearfully.
"I understand," Tom had replied mechanically. He'd
only met John and Mary Kim a few times before, most
recently at a party celebrating Harry's assignment to
the Livingston. But Tom's brief encounters with the
Kims had shown just how much their lives revolved
around their only child. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kim. I
can't even begin to put into words-" he had stopped
there, suddenly imagining their positions reversed and
that it was Miral or Joey who had died. The lump in
Tom's throat had prevented him speaking.
"You were Harry's best friend," John Kim had
interrupted. "Since we cannot go ourselves to the
Livingston, we feel so relieved that it is you who
will bring Harry's things for us and not some
stranger. It makes it... easier."
"I understand," Tom had said again, finding it hard to
say anything else. He was grieving for Harry as well,
but he knew that it had to be a million times worse
for Harry's parents; they'd lost their son once before
to the Delta Quadrant and now, a scant six years
later, they'd lost him again - this time forever. "Mr.
and Mrs. Kim, I'm so sorry. I-" he'd stopped there,
once again at a loss for words. And then he'd simply
said, "I'll bring Harry's things for you."
Now, as Tom wandered around the holodeck, his throat
tightened again. Here he had played Captain Proton and
Harry had been his loyal sidekick, Buster Kincaid. The
last time they'd 'played' in this scenario on Voyager
had been the week before Miral's birth. The Delaney
sisters had participated and they had even managed to
talk Seven into joining them as well. And that last
time, Neelix had been there and had managed to wheedle
his way into playing the part of an evil overlord. The
casting had been incongruous, to say the least, but
Neelix had enjoyed himself greatly.
A few days later, Neelix had chosen to leave Voyager,
to start a new life with Dexa and Brax - the Talaxian
woman and her son with whom he'd formed instant bonds
when Voyager had unexpectedly discovered a colony of
Talaxians. If I'd only known that that was the last
time, Tom thought a little sadly. But at the same
time, he'd been happy that Neelix had found happiness
with Dexa and Brax; Tom had always been aware that
Neelix continued to miss Kes and hadn't had a serious
relationship since Kes' departure - the brief and
tragic affair with Talli on the Mari planet
notwithstanding. Tom ran his fingers over the
computer. Once he'd admired the blinking lights, the
knobs and levers; he had always enjoyed the more
manual controls than the automated computer wizardry
and he'd incorporated that same 'rudimentary
engineering' - B'Elanna called it - into the Delta
Flyer. Neelix had been fascinated, to say the least,
with the primitive Captain Proton setting and Tom
could still remember him cackling - as an evil
overlord should, Neelix had insisted.
It occurred to Tom that someone would have to tell
Neelix about what had happened. He took a deep breath.
Janeway was in no condition to deliver the news - if
she even knew what had happened. Tuvok was on Vulcan
and Tom knew that if even if Janeway weren't on
Vulcan, Tuvok would already be at her side - no matter
the distance. Tom also hadn't heard from Chakotay or
Seven in months. B'Elanna had been close to Neelix but
Tom knew that she wouldn't be up to talking about
Harry to the Talaxian - or anything else, for that
matter. Which left the task of informing Neelix to
him.
Tom pondered; should he wait? After all, the message
wouldn't be transmitted to Neelix until after they
returned to Earth and even so, it would take several
days for it to reach Neelix after it was sent as well.
Tom took another long look around the holodeck,
feeling lonely and hollow inside. He wanted - no,
*needed* - someone to talk to. On Voyager, there had
been no counselors to help them through the difficult
times, but they'd been able to comfort each other and
share in each other's pain. At the moment, Tom Paris
felt very, very alone. It wouldn't be the same as
having Neelix here in the room with him, but Tom knew
that Neelix was a wonderful listener; in fact, Tom had
managed to have entire conversations with the Talaxian
without Neelix ever saying a word. And those talks had
always ended up with Tom feeling much, much better.
"Computer, begin recording. Audio and visual both."
Tom eyed the chair. Should he sit for this? How long
did it take to convey bad news anyway? Better yet, how
to start a message like this? He chose to remain
standing. "It's Tom." He laughed, almost shakily.
"Guess you figured that out by now, huh?" He cleared
his throat. It seemed impersonal to come right out and
say that Harry was dead, had died in the line of duty,
and his funeral would be next week. Tom twisted his
hands together. Damn it, this was *Janeway's* job, not
his; commanding officers bore the brunt of relaying
bad news, not helm officers. He paused then, realizing
that unconsciously he still thought of himself on
Voyager, of Janeway still being his commanding
officer. Tom felt an irrational burst of anger at
being placed in this position, but then pushed it
away; it would do no good to blame Janeway or anyone
else for what had happened in the Neutral Zone. He
decided then that he wouldn't sit down - he had too
much nervous energy to burn and somehow, walking made
him think more lucidly.
"I wish you were here, Neelix," Tom continued. "You'd
know what to do. You'd know what to say." He shook his
head as he rounded the computer and climbed a step
towards the time machine. "My problem is, I'm not sure
how to start or what to say. It would be different if
you were sitting right here with me. It's easier, you
know, to talk to a person than to record a message.
I'm just going to talk, okay, Neelix? I may edit
later, I may not. I'm not really sure. I hope you
understand." Tom took a deep breath, pausing a second
to let the emotion clear from his voice before
continuing on.
"You always had the right words, Neelix. I always
envied that." Tom wiped his hand against his face.
"And I feel terrible now because I never responded to
your last note. The one you sent six or seven months
ago. You had good news to report, that you and Dexa
were expecting a baby. I imagine he or she is here by
now." Tom paused. "Also, congratulations on
establishing a new trade route. It sounds to me like
you've really done well for yourself. I hope you're
happy and well-established in your life now. It
certainly sounds like you are." Tom sat heavily in the
wooden chair. There was no way to gently cushion the
news; he had to come out and say it directly. "I wish
I wasn't sending bad news, Neelix, I really wish I
wasn't. As you might guess from this message's
signature, I'm talking to you from aboard a medical
ship, the Pasteur. I'm here because B'Elanna is very
ill from injuries sustained during a battle in the
Neutral Zone and Harry-" he swallowed hard - "Harry is
dead. He died in the line of duty in that same
battle."
Tom paused. The battle in the Neutral Zone had erupted
without warning; until that moment, all signs had
pointed to a successful resolution in the conflict
between the Romulans and the Ponzi raiders who
insisted on preying on both Federation and Romulan
colonies on either side of the Neutral Zone. From what
little B'Elanna had been able to tell him and the
information he'd gathered from reports his father had
supplied him with, Tom surmised that the captain of
the Federation starship Amherst had been a little
trigger-happy and had decided to fire a warning shot
at a Ponzi ship; the misguided missile had slammed
into a Romulan freighter instead, causing the Romulans
to fire back at the Amherst.
"It escalated from there. B'Elanna's ship - the
Minuteman - responded to the Amherst's distress call.
I'm sure B'Elanna mentioned the Minuteman to you; she
was one of the chief engineers responsible for the
design specs of the new Mars-class ships. Harry
shouldn't have even been there. He was assigned to the
Livingston and he and Janeway beamed over to the
Minuteman perhaps an hour at most before hostilities
broke out." Tom cleared his throat. The reports had
indicated severe damage to the Minuteman due to the
Romulans' new weapons' technology and B'Elanna had
been forced to eject the warp core, which had been
leaking massive amounts of radiation. Somewhere along
the line, Harry had shown
up to assist B'Elanna and the other engineers in
trying to salvage the ship.
"Harry was injured in one of the Jefferies tubes. He
and B'Elanna were trapped there, trying to reroute
critical systems in order to erect force fields and
keep the Minuteman space worthy until help arrived. It
should have been a safe place to wait, but the battle
wasn't over. The aftershock of the Amherst's
destruction caused a massive shockwave and Harry was
thrown up against the wall," Tom said. He cleared his
throat before continuing. "He sustained severe head
trauma. However, it was a 'slow bleeder' so he managed
to keep consciousness but B'Elanna was concerned for
him. He told B'Elanna that it wasn't serious when she
insisted he go to Sickbay and when they were beamed to
the Livingston, he insisted that she get treatment
before him. She was having trouble breathing, but you
know B'Elanna-" Tom shook his head - "she was adamant
about Harry. Only the doctors' intervention caused her
to accept medical help before Harry; they said she was
suffering from pulmonary distress." Tom took a deep
breath. He had visualized this scene in his mind many
times, thinking on how chaotic the Livingston's
sickbay must have been. "Harry died an hour later.
Quietly and-" Tom cleared his throat - "alone."
Tom had talked to the doctors when he'd first arrived
aboard the Livingston. They'd found Harry Kim sitting
in a chair, leaning against the wall, his eyes
half-closed, his expression relaxed. No pain, the
doctors had told Tom, he just slipped away, quietly
and peacefully.
"It sounds like negligence, Neelix, but it really
wasn't. The Livingston's sickbay was in chaos. They
didn't have enough medical personnel or equipment to
treat the injured. You know how it is in a hostile
situation. Events move so quickly, you make decisions
without thinking them through clearly and you just
hope that you've done the right thing. Harry insisted
he felt fine and it was obvious to everyone that
B'Elanna needed surgery immediately or she would die.
And while she was in surgery, Harry sat down to wait."
Tom paused. "The doctors insist that he felt nothing,
but it still haunts me, that he died alone and I can't
stop thinking about." Tom rose from his seat, his
heart beating rapidly as he twisted his hands
together. "I sometimes wonder if that's a lie we tell
the survivors, that the victim felt nothing because it
eases the loss for us." Tom stopped. "But I can't
believe it, that he was there, that he was within
inches of help and still..." Tom shook his head. "But
that's such a 'Harry' thing to do, you know? Playing
the hero? Wanting to be the one to take care of his
friends?"
Tom swallowed hard and then continued his pacing. "I
just came from the Livingston, his ship, where he
should have been all along, Neelix. Or rather, I
arrived earlier this morning. I had to pack Harry's
things for his parents. No, that makes it sound like I
didn't want to do it. I did want to do it. I thought
it would be easy. After all, it's just *things*,
right? Inanimate objects? How hard could it be?" Tom
stopped. "His quarters were perfect, as always. You
know how Harry was. All hospital corners. Everything
in its place, not a speck of dust anywhere."
It had been eerie in those first few minutes. He'd
stood in the middle of Harry's quarters, unable to
even think of where to start. Despite Harry's neatness
and organization, Tom had been overwhelmed by the task
in front of him. The fact that B'Elanna would wake in
a couple hours and she'd need him as well as only
having a few hours to get the task done propelled Tom
into action. He'd moved mechanically, first wrapping
up the personal items on the desk and then moving to
the closet to fold away the uniforms. At the bottom of
the closet, he'd found Harry's footlocker.
Hunching down, Tom had popped it open. He'd found
Harry's personal letters there, and in a small box,
holoimages. Tom had stopped then, his fingers
clutching the edge of the box as he'd stared at the
memories Harry had carefully preserved. In typically
Harry fashion, each one had been carefully labeled
with stardate and the names of the individuals in the
pictures. There had been several of Tom and Harry
together, including one of them dressed up to 'play'
in the Captain Proton scenario. Tom swallowed hard; he
had the exact same picture in his office back at the
Academy. He carefully replaced the picture in the box,
placing it aside for Harry's parents.
"Harry had his saxophone and clarinet both on board
the Livingston. I wanted to ask someone if he played
still but I couldn't find anyone to ask. But I'm sure,
if there weren't already a quartet on board the
Livingston, he would have formed one himself. You know
Harry. He loved to play those instruments," Tom said.
His throat was starting to feel hoarse. "It really
bothered me when I saw the saxophone and clarinet
cases. It hit me then, that I'd never hear Harry
perform again and how I never told him on Voyager that
I appreciated his music. I think it was in that moment
the reality of what had happened became real for me."
Tom shook his head. "The trip on Admiral Necheyev's
ship to rendezvous with the Livingston was
nerve-wracking. I was comfortable, physically
comfortable, that is. I had a stateroom, the type they
assign to visiting diplomats. Despite the luxury, I
couldn't relax for a second. I couldn't eat, I
couldn't sleep, and I couldn't sit still. I was so
worried about B'Elanna - they, the doctors - wouldn't
tell me exactly what had happened to her, and they
were equally reticent about the Admiral Janeway's
condition. I've never been so frightened in my life,
Neelix. It's a long time to be alone with your
thoughts. A very, very long time. Memories blur,
recollections fade, and I was frantic, trying to
remember everything about Harry, and all the things we
experienced together, all the times - good and
bad--that we shared." Tom remembered the utter panic
he'd felt when he'd realized he was already starting
to forget Harry's mannerisms, things Harry had said.
It had bothered Tom greatly because, after all, he'd
just met Harry in a chance encounter the previous year
at Starbase 4. "Somewhere between Earth and the
Livingston, I decided that it couldn't be true. It was
all just a big mistake. Harry wasn't dead. He couldn't
be, because selfish as it sounds, I had too much to
say to him and there was so much that he still needed
to do."
Tom's hands shook and all of his emotions welled up in
his throat once again. He wasn't the type to cry, but
he felt closer to a meltdown than ever before; even
Caldik Prime had not had this same kind of intensity.
Back then he'd thought that the loss of his friends,
due to his negligence, had been the worst thing that
could have ever happened to him. But he'd managed to
numb that pain and somehow push it behind him so that
it didn't hurt as much. This time, it was different.
Harry had been his best friend - someone who had
accepted Tom unconditionally.
"Even though my father had told me about Harry, I
didn't really understand what it meant. I know that
must sound crazy because really, what's there to
understand? If someone is dead, they're dead. It's
pretty straight-forward, but in my mind, it wasn't
something I could comprehend," Tom said. He took a
deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "How could
it be real? Harry had his entire life in front of him
and his career was finally going in the direction he
wanted it to be. The last time I saw him, he was-" Tom
paused, looking for the right words. Harry had been
his usual responsible self, wanting to get back to the
science conference, but Tom had urged him, for old
time's sake, for another go in the Captain Proton
scenario. Now Tom was intensely grateful that he had
forced the issue.
"The first time I met Harry, we were on Deep Space
Nine, at Quark's. He was striking a deal with the
Ferengi bartender and was being taken for a ride, by
the looks of it." Tom chuckled briefly at the memory.
"I don't know what it was about Harry that made me
want to step in, because, as you know, back then, I
could be just as mercenary and cold-hearted as a
Ferengi if I wanted to be. But I did and from then
on, I always thought of Harry as someone I needed to
look out for. Perhaps as a way to redeem myself, or
maybe it was because of the unconditional way Harry
accepted me and my past, even when Commander Cavit and
Dr. Fitzgerald warned him against me." Tom smiled
wryly - a bit inappropriately as well. "You never had
the displeasure of meeting these two gentlemen,
Neelix, but they didn't care for me as they'd made up
their minds about me and weren't inclined to change
them. Unfortunately, they had the capacity to
influence the rest of the crew, except for Harry. He
told them that he was capable of choosing his own
friends. It was such a contrast from the way the rest
of Voyager's crew treated me."
Tom was on a roll now. He could feel the words coming
out more easily. "I always thought of Harry as my
sidekick, you know? Buster Kincaid to my Captain
Proton?" Tom gestured to his surroundings, knowing
that Neelix would recognize the program. "But when we
were in the Aquitiri prison, it was different. When he
first arrived in the prison, I immediately took
responsibility for him. I was convinced that Harry
wouldn't be able to survive the prison without me.
After all, *he'd* never been to prison before. Hell,
I'd never been to a prison like this one either; New
Zealand was a luxury resort compared to this one." Tom
shook his head at the memory. It had taken months for
the ghosts of the Aquitarian prison to stop haunting
his dreams; still, on occasion, he'd wake in a cold
sweat, wondering if someone had plans to slit his
throat so they could steal his boots.
"But things changed after I got stabbed and I was weak
from blood loss and fever. Harry took care of me and
even then I wasn't sure Harry could take care of
himself, let alone me. I urged him to save himself,
not to think of me at all if he could find a way out."
Tom laid a hand on the back of the wooden chair. "But
Harry wouldn't think of it. We saw the worst of people
when we were there and I'm convinced that if Harry
hadn't stepped in, hadn't claimed me for his own-"
here Tom paused to chuckle, remembering Harry's
exclamation of "This man is mine!" - "I wouldn't have
lived through the experience. I'll never forget the
force with which he told those pressing for him to
kill me that nobody would touch me; I was his friend.
After that, I looked at Harry a little differently.
Not just as a good buddy, someone to kill time with,
to play on the holodeck with, but someone who was
genuinely going to be there through good times and
bad. I knew I would be able to depend on him, that his
loyalty went far deeper than I ever imagined."
Tom looked around the room. He remembered spending
long hours on the Captain Proton scenario; he'd made
it a point to create a new holoprogram every year to
share with the crew, along with the Sandrine's program
he'd brought with him aboard Voyager. The resort
program he'd created had been popular enough - he
still had fond memories of B'Elanna in her 'tropical'
sundress - but he knew he had hit pay dirt when he'd
stumbled across the Captain Proton stories. Many of
his fellow crewmembers including the Delaney twins and
Seven had joined him and Harry here, enjoying the
campy and vampish feel of the program. On one rare
occasion, Janeway had been conscripted into the part
of Queen Arachnia, under duress, the Captain had
insisted, but Tom had silently noted that it looked as
if Janeway *was* indeed enjoying herself. B'Elanna, on
the other hand, had never cared much for the Captain
Proton program. She'd deemed the program silly (she
hadn't had much love for Fair Haven either), but Tom
pointed out that silliness was the precise reason why
Captain Proton was so popular. It gave the crew a
chance to fight an enemy - Chaotica, for instance -
that they knew, without doubt, that they could defeat.
And Harry had never mentioned it directly, but Tom
knew that Harry enjoyed flirting with Constance
Goodheart, whether 'she' be the holographic version or
the one who was occasionally played by a female member
of the crew.
"Harry always fell for the wrong girl," Tom said, his
voice lightening as he recalled Harry's 'romantic'
escapades. His friend's disastrous luck with women - a
group that included a hologram, the 'wrong twin,' an
alien, a dead crewman, a saboteur - had amused Tom
greatly and when they'd returned to Earth, Tom, in
domestic bliss, had been relieved to learn that Harry
had resumed his relationship with Libby. Perhaps, Tom
had thought at the time, all of those other 'affairs'
- including Tal, the alien woman who had 'infected'
Harry - had been simply a way of forgetting the woman
he'd really loved. But the relationship with Libby
lasted less than a year after Voyager's return.
Harry's only statement on the matter was that he and
Libby would always care for each other deeply; they
were both different people now and they needed to move
on with their lives and he would always wish Libby
well. "But he seemed happy enough with the decision.
Harry had his mind set on command track. I'm pretty
sure he was aiming for the admiralty. I believe he was
emulating Janeway; he admired her greatly and wanted
nothing more than her approval. It bothered him that
she never promoted him in the DQ and I'm sure a part
of him wondered if he truly measured up to her
standards. That's another thing I would want to tell
Harry. That I really think he could have done it,
would have done it. I really believe he would have
made a hell of a captain. He was smart, ambitious,
resourceful - all good traits in a Starfleet officer.
But more importantly, he was genuine, sincere, caring.
He didn't play politics like others did and he didn't
always take the easy way out. He was a fine officer,
Neelix, but more importantly, he was a fine man."
Tom closed his eyes. He was starting to feel sleepy
and his voice was growing hoarse from talking. "I
should probably tell you a little about Janeway and
B'Elanna. I know you must be worried about them as
well. My father informed me that Janeway had been
placed in stasis for transport to Vulcan as her
condition was serious. The last bit of intelligence
says that she is currently expected to recover from
her injuries." Tom stopped, thinking of the bit of
information he'd received shortly before boarding the
transport to rendezvous with the Livingston. Despite
massive injuries, Janeway had remained in control on
the Bridge of the Minuteman in its final minutes,
continuing to negotiate with the Romulans for a
ceasefire. He'd also learned the captain of the
Minuteman, John Phillips, had been confident that the
ship could be saved, that Janeway would be able to
successfully convince the Romulans to stop their
attacks; as such, no order had been given to evacuate
the ship. The order had come later - from Janeway -
after Captain Phillips had been killed. By then, it
had been too late. Portions of the ship had been
impassable and those who had survived the initial
blasts, like Harry and B'Elanna, were blocked from
reaching the escape pods. Others had perished from
smoke inhalation and still more had succumbed to
severe radiation poisoning.
"B'Elanna is very ill, Neelix." Tom gave in to his
fatigue and sat down. The hard wooden chair gave him
the support he so desperately needed and for that
reason, he was able to disregard the discomfort.
"Radiation poisoning, much of it due to exposure
during the warp core meltdown. You know B'Elanna. She
was in Engineering until the very last minute, trying
to erect a force field around the warp core. She was
the last one out after ejecting the core. Another
stubborn officer -I always said she and Janeway had a
lot in common." Tom pressed his lips into a thin line.
"And that was before she and Harry were doing their
best to hold the ship together from a main junction in
the Jefferies tube which was a smart move to make on
their part. They didn't know though that it was also
an area with a severe concentration of radiation
fallout." Tom shook his head in disbelief. The doctors
had given him a readout of their estimation of what
the radiation levels in Engineering and the Jefferies
tubes had been - 10 gray - and knowing that, Tom had
been shocked that B'Elanna had even survived the
exposure. The doctors had credited B'Elanna's Klingon
physique, the redundant organs, for making it possible
for her to survive when so many others had perished.
"The doctors are cautiously optimistic about
B'Elanna's chances. They say if she makes it past the
six-week mark, we're out of the woods. I don't have to
tell you, Neelix, about radiation poisoning, about how
most people die within two to four weeks when they've
been hit with a lethal dose of that magnitude. But
B'Elanna's strong and she's going to make it." He said
this last bit with a burst of confidence; the doctors'
reports had been initially pessimistic but more
recently, they had changed their tune to 'cautiously
optimistic.'
Tom rose, feeling he could no longer keep his
exhaustion at bay; perhaps moving around would give
him the energy necessary to finish his letter to
Neelix. How long had he been here anyway? He cleared
his throat. "I've got to go check on her, Neelix.
She's so weak now, dehydrated, nauseated, and in a lot
of pain. It's hard to see her like this, Neelix, and
not know what to do for her. The doctors say we have
to wait and see; conventional treatments for radiation
sickness didn't work for B'Elanna, possibly due to the
fact she's been exposed to so much radiation over the
past ten to twelve years that the medications have
simply lost their potency." Tom sighed. He knew
B'Elanna appreciated his presence by her bedside, but
at the same time, he knew she resented her dependence
on him as well. "You know as well as I do that
B'Elanna hates being coddled and she'll want to go
back to the way things used to be. She'll want to work
long hours again at the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.
But somehow, I'm going to have to convince her that
things are going to have to change because we can't
anticipate what the long-term effects of radiation
poisoning will be. I know she won't want to slow down,
that's not B'Elanna's way, but I'm afraid for the near
future, that that's the way it's going to be." He
stopped. "I'm worried about her emotional state as
well, Neelix. She knows about Harry and to say she's
devastated would be putting it lightly."
Tom had been furious when he'd learned that the
doctors onboard the Livingston had told B'Elanna about
Harry. He'd been hoping to tell her himself, knowing
that B'Elanna would take Harry's death hard. She
hadn't talked much about Harry in the two days they'd
been together and this worried Tom; B'Elanna had a way
of repressing her feelings when she was upset. She'd
come a long way from acting out her emotions in
suicidal holodeck programs. He'd already decided, when
they got back to San Francisco, he'd make an
appointment for B'Elanna to see a counselor. She'd
fight him, he knew, but he'd be firm about it. So many
times on Voyager they'd needed someone desperately to
help them, and now that they had the best counselors
in Starfleet available to them, Tom was determined to
take advantage of their services.
"Maybe it's better that B'Elanna is aware of what
happened to Harry, I don't know. I was just concerned
that it would slow her recovery, but I have to have
faith in her." Without thinking, Tom quirked a smile.
"You know B'Elanna. There's no challenge she can't
overcome once she puts her mind to it. And you know
something else? I'm counting on it."
Tom headed to the door. "I wish you were here, Neelix.
Not just because I know you'd be the perfect one to
help us figure out what's going on, but also because
you're a good friend." Tom took a deep breath. "And
God knows, we could all use a good friend. It's only
recently that I'm starting to appreciate what we all
had together on Voyager and how easily it can be lost.
I want you to know, Neelix, even though you're far
away, you're not forgotten. You still occupy a place
in our hearts." Tom's lips turned upwards and his tone
lightened slightly. "After all, if it hadn't been for
you, Neelix, B'Elanna and I would have never gotten
married. So, we owe you. A lot. Take care, Neelix.
I'll contact you again, hopefully under better
circumstances." Tom gently touched the metallic
surface of a large, boxy computer mainframe. "Computer
end recording and transmit to personal database of Tom
Paris, authorization alpha zeta five." Tom took one
last, lingering look around the Captain Proton set.
Instinctively, he knew that he would never return to
this program. "Goodbye, old friend. Computer, end
program."
****
"What is it?" Dexa stood behind Neelix, her eyes
focused on the fading image of Tom Paris. She was
holding a very sleepy baby in her arms. "Is something
wrong?"
Neelix inhaled deeply before turning to Dexa. The
initial joy of receiving a message from Tom Paris had
dissipated once he realized what the message
contained. "It's about Harry Kim."
Dexa's hand tightened on Neelix's shoulder. "Bad news?
It sounded like it."
"The very worst kind." Neelix pressed the 'rewind'
button; he wanted to watch the vid one more time.
Tom's message had been a little repetitious, a little
rambling, but that was understandable, given the
circumstances the message had been recorded under. It
would take several more viewings before Tom's words
actually sunk in. "Harry was killed in action." It
sounded strange to actually say the words out-loud.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dexa said softly. Dexa
hadn't known Harry that well, but Neelix had told her
plenty of stories and he knew that her words were
heartfelt and sincere. She leaned down to kiss Neelix
lightly on the cheek. "Brax and I'll be in the nursery
with Alixia." Neelix reached up to gently touch the
now sleeping baby in Dexa's arms on the head.
"Thank you," Neelix said, grateful that Dexa had
sensed his need to be alone to absorb the news. He
*was* lucky, Neelix thought, and he *was* happy with
the life he had now, comfortable with the decision
he'd made not to continue on to the Alpha Quadrant
with Voyager. But still, at times like this, his heart
ached for his friends and he was reminded again just
how much he missed them all. He cleared his throat. As
hard as it had been for Tom Paris to dictate the bad
news, Neelix knew it would be equally difficult to
respond to Tom; Tom had given him too much credit when
he had said that Neelix always 'had the right words.'
Some things simply couldn't be put into words, Neelix
knew. Taking a deep breath, Neelix began to compose a
response to Tom.
~ the end