The crises involving the spacial Portuguese man-of-war had been over for two days, the crew was finally able to settle back into normal routine as the ship had been mostly fixed. Fortunately Voyager's main systems had been undamaged due to the electrical surge protectors that were mandatory on every ship in the Fleet. Obviously Voyager could have used a few extras, but for the most part a lot of hard work had everything back under control. So it was now 0213 in the early hours and Tom found himself once again wandering the empty halls of Voyager, doing his best to avoid any and all contact with every member of the crew.
The effort it was taking for this lonely trek was aggravating to him, his feet feeling as though they were incased in cement as he dragged them along the metal deck. It was with sadness that he admitted to himself the reason he felt so tired was from the weight he constantly felt he was carrying on his shoulders. The weight of the curious stares that he was now getting, mingling with the ones that were still filled with resentment and anger; the weight of the lives he had let depart those few years ago at the hands of the Cardassians; the weight of betrayal that he felt from friends in his past, from his own father; the weight of his responsibility to this crew that forced him to try and appear easy going and non-caring. He supposed the lack of sleep he'd been getting lately (along with the rest of the crew) was also a contributing factor; along with the concussion he'd received from gracefully smashing his head into a table, in front of the entire mess hall, after almost tying to murder two of his own crew.
Tom stopped abruptly and turned around, heading to observation lounge three which was just around the corner. He needed to see the stars, to try and make some sense of his rampant emotions. He stepped quickly into the room, glancing around briefly to ensure he was alone and then moved right in front of the large window, placing hands on the waist high sill for support. His life on Voyager was beginning to pull him down, and feeling this way only increased his sense of guilt. Over the past few weeks he had found himself contemplating life away from Voyager more frequently then ever before. He had some very positive reasons to stay: his friendship with Harry, perhaps the best he had ever had, and he had the respect of his Captain, which gave him a sense of responsibility over others that he didn't think he would ever feel comfortable with. He ascertained that his less then poor relationship with his father made him feel unworthy of her confidence in him, even if he knew he was one of the best pilot's Starfleet had ever produced.
He lost track of time as these tremulous thoughts plagued his mind. It didn't matter that he didn't recognize the stars outside because seeing them from the vantage of a moving ship reduced all known stars and constellations to simple streaks of light. As he gazed out he felt his anger, always hidden so deep inside him, start to boil to the surface. He took several long, deep breathes to control it, force it back into its cage where it shouldn't be able to escape. And taking a shaky breath of control he acknowledged that this was the true problem, this anger he was filled with. Sometimes the urge to hit something, or preferably someone, were so close to getting the better of him that it scared him. He knew exactly what he was capable of in a blind rage, and he had come too close to hurting people on this ship. It didn't matter that they most likely deserved it, if he couldn't control himself than he couldn't be here. He had been serious when he'd told Harry he couldn't tolerate losing control, and that their crew were beginning to draw his hate to the surface. It terrified him.
He squeezed the metal frame of the sill and felt satisfaction as the joints in his fingers and the muscles in his arms began to ache. What he needed was a vacation from this life, and it would take longer then a week. He needed to decide if he could afford to stay on Voyager now, after all that had happened. Chakotay knew about the Cardassian prison. Ayala knew. Others were probably figuring it out and soon he wouldn't be able to escape it. The looks they'd send him of pity or curiosity, of misguided respect or of disbelief, would infect him everyday. He'd see it in their eyes. He knew he had never 'dealt' with his past the way any psychiatrist or counselor worth their salt would have insisted on, but the support network had never been there when he'd needed it most and now he had developed his own program. His method of dealing worked just fine as long as he could remain in control of his emotions. Damn it! He slammed his fist hard on the cold sill and raised his arm to do it again when he heard the lounge doors slide open. Instantly he schooled his features to that of contemplation, and waited to acknowledge the newcomer.
Ayala was normally not the type of person who would pry into other people's lives. He resented gossips, was weary of do-gooders, and usually didn't care for ease-droppers. However, despite the harm such acts were capable of causing, he did recognize the fact that sometimes the only way to resolve a problem was to gain insight that was not meant to be shared. Therefore when Tom Paris had swiftly entered the observation lounge he'd been relaxing in, and had failed to see Ayala tucked away in the corner on the floor, Ayala made no attempt to announce his presence.
Tom Paris. Ayala watched the aforementioned man as he leaned his arms on the view ports ledge with a weight suggesting the ledge was the only thing holding Paris up. The pilot was confusing the shit out of him. Ayala had never read someone's personality as incorrectly as he'd apparently read this mans. Originally believing that Paris was a freeloading fleet brat who'd received everything with a blue ribbon tied neatly around it, including his Starfleet career, Ayala had taken an instant dislike to him. That had been back in the days of the Maquis. Voyager, Ayala had thought, was just another place where the pilot could try and screw people over for his own benefit. In the end it hadn't been Tom's efforts on Voyager to get along with the crew, or his almost suicidal bravery on away missions or incredible flying skills that had changed Ayala's mind about the younger man. It had been Tom's surprised attack on Chakotay all those weeks ago in the gym, when Ayala had glimpsed that scar imbedded in his flesh. That was when he'd known he'd somehow gravely misjudged the man.
Ayala knew Chakotay well, and he understood how hard it was to regain his Captains trust after he thought you'd thrown it away. Therefore he knew the first time they'd glimpsed the mottled scar that Chakotay hadn't trusted the truth behind it. Ayala could tell by the way he'd watched Paris over the next few days, as though he was trying to understand why he might fake such a disgusting brand, and what he would possibly gain from it. Ayala had believed in the truth of the mark before they had left the Gym; it had been the Fleeter's eyes and his hands that spoken to Ayala.
Tom's eyes when he'd attacked Chakotay, so violently swift, had been locked in an angry world of hate mingled with fear. Ayala's instinctive reaction had been that he was finally getting revenge for the way people were always bad mouthing, and occasionally physically assaulting him. After they had released Tom and he'd slowly stood Chakotay had pointed at his broken hands. Ayala knew, right then, that the punishment Paris was putting himself through was deep and violent and something that he kept locked away in a place no one was ever supposed to know about. Ayala knew this because he'd been there once, with the savage murder and rape of his wife and daughter. He'd tried to hide the violent anger, bury it and get his justice with every mission he flew with Chakotay. One day he'd snapped and brutally killed a Cardassian. Chakotay had started on him right after that and now, while still as angry, scared and sad as the day he'd found his dead family, he didn't hide the pain. He dealt with it as best he could.
Tom Paris had never dealt with this pain. He'd never uttered a word as far as Ayala knew, at least not to anyone other then Harry Kim. Ayala wasn't fooling himself anymore, he knew that Tom had been a prisoner of that place, and he'd been carefully watching Tom ever since. He'd never before noticed how much time Kim and Paris spent together, how Kim constantly stuck up for his friend when Tom wasn't around to hear him, how he seemed to look up to Paris as a friend that was worth every bit of his loyalty despite what everyone else said and thought about him. Ayala admired him for that. He also noticed that the pilot relaxed slightly when his friend was around, and that he was always trying to lighten the mood. There was a lot that Ayala had learned about this man, and still so much he didn't understand.
So now the object of his thoughts stood tiredly, staring out blankly at passing stars. His face was a mask of hopeless frustration, uncertainty, sadness, confusion…so many fleeting emotions that were so alien, because Tom never showed this side of himself to anyone. Yes Ayala felt guilty for hiding in the corner, presence unknown, but if it helped him understand, and then maybe help this man in the future, then it would be worth it. After waiting silently with Paris for the better part of an hour he was startled by Tom suddenly and viciously slamming his fist on the sill, a dull thud resounding around the room. As he raised his arm again Ayala was about to get up to stop him when the doors opened and in walked Tirzri'wa. Ayala frowned, and then his frown deepened when Paris turned and smiled, no hint of his former emotional struggle.
"Tirzri'wa."
"Tom." The being joined him and they both looked out the window a moment.
"Should I ask why you've sought me out so early in the morning, or just be flattered?"
"I awoke from a calm sleep and deduced that you were not resting."
"I'm not tired." Tom raised an eyebrow in question. "Though the fact that you know my sleep patterns is a bit strange."
"You know very well that your night dreams awaken myself as much as every other being on this ship. It will remain so until we have departed from your home. Tell me, will you sleep again once we are gone, or will it just be your shipmates that get to rest." Tom glanced sharply at the being and then back to the star port.
"They need to rest, and you can't seem to not project the nightmares. I'm not on shift tomorrow, I'll sleep then." Ayala stared at the two, the realization of what they were discussing caused a sick pressure to build in his chest. The nightmares that woke him, screaming on some nights, were Tom's. There was silence for a few more minutes and then Tom sighed, so deeply and sadly that the hairs on Ayala's neck stood on end in sudden trepidation.
"Are you deciding your course young friend?" Tirzri'wa questioned, and his feathers seemed to deflate a bit.
"I don't think there is much to decide Tirzri'wa. My crew is making up my mind for me. I'm not as strong as I pretend to be, and I am going to hurt someone if I remain here."
"Tom, you know they are unaware of the full extent of the pain they cause you. You can't expect them to bounce into acceptance as easily as they should. They have been blinded for so long and still can't see everything they need to." Tom refused to look anywhere but out the view port, his jaw clenched tightly. Ayala felt his own teeth grind almost painfully as he began to understand what might be going on.
"Tirzri'wa, I know that they will eventually come around, but I can't allow them the time. They make me lose control, and I can't allow that. I could end up killing them, and that is not acceptable. They are good people…" He trailed off, becoming unfocused for a moment and then smiled sadly. "Harry isn't going to know what to do. I know if I leave he'll try to come with me out of some deranged sense of honour. What I did to gain him as a friend I'll never know, but I wouldn't mind doing it again." Tom bit his lip and shook his head sadly. "He can't come though, because this ship is a place he actually calls home now, at least until they make it back to earth. Could you imagine him being with us on your planet and continuously wondering what his ship and friends were up to, whether or not they made it home. He'd drive me more nuts than I already am, and he'd regret his decision daily."
"I do not wish to turn you away from myself and my home world, but I want you to fully comprehend the decision you are making. If you leave them, then they will be gone forever. You will no longer have humans around."
"I never blended well with most humans anyway." A faint attempt at cockiness did nothing to lighten the heavy mood that swept the lounge. Ayala couldn't stop staring in shock; this was a path he hadn't even imagined the pilot would consider, yet it seemed he had actually already made the decision. Voyager was going to lose its chief pilot, and it didn't look like they were going to even be given a chance to make things right with him. Tirzri'wa looked down and met Tom's eyes as the pilot stared back and took a deep breath. Then there was a determined nod of his dark blond head, which signified that his decision was made. Tom Paris left the lounge with just as weary a step as he'd entered it with.
Tirzri'wa stared at the door a few moments before turning back to the stars, seemingly searching for answers. Ayala sat in a sort of uncomprehending shock, trying to make sense of a conversation he had fully understood. The alien being clucked a few times and then softly shook his head. He spoke quietly into the absolutely silent room, his soft voice carrying as easily as the louder conversation just had.
"I cannot tell if this is for better or for worse. However, the path that has been chosen has not yet come to pass." He turned and looked directly at Ayala for one piercing moment, and then he drifted quietly from the room, leaving Gregor Ayala with more questions, then answers.
Chakotay stood in the transporter room trying to look happy despite the iciness that was covering what felt like his entire stomach. The Widariats were saying their last adieus to the small crowd that had gathered in the larger of the two transporter rooms that Voyager contained. Janeway's smiles, he noticed, were more of a grimace upon her attractive face as she tried to play the happy ambassador. It was impossible for the Widariat's to not pick up on their pained emotions, yet they were hiding their own emotions well. Tirzri'wa was speaking to the captain in hushed tones, a look of slight sorrow encasing his features. Tuvok was his normal impassive self, discussing some obscure planetary policy with Rinkin'an. The door to the transporter room swooshed open and Chakotay saw both Janeway and Tuvok glance slightly, along with himself, to see who had entered. It was Ensign Kim. It wasn't difficult to notice his look of relief as he glanced around the room and didn't see his best friend, and there was no doubt in Chakotay's mind that that was who he was searching for. Janeway and Tuvok, Chakotay noticed, had once again focused on their conversations. Harry, apparently not knowing who's conversation to join, walked over and stood stiffly beside Chakotay. He looked a little pale.
"Are you all right ensign?" Chakotay enquired for lack of anything better to discuss.
"I will be, once we're heading home again sir." Harry answered, though Chakotay wasn't sure if the young man was even aware he'd answered, still surveying the room intently, just incase he eyes were deceiving him. Chakotay glanced at the doors again and was surprised to see an entire group of officers enter, led by Ayala of all people. It was an open house, meaning that anyone who wished could come and say a few last words to their new allies, but Chakotay had never seen Ayala speaking directly with any of the Widariat delegates before so he thought it strange for him to arrive tonight. With Ayala was a grumpy looking B'Elanna Torres, who no doubt hadn't wanted to leave her engine room. She immediately headed towards Tuvok and Rinkin'an, who was the Widariat she had associated with the most during their stay on Voyager. Neelix and Kes were in the group as well and Kes was looking just as worried as Harry. Gerron Tem, Samantha Wildman, the Delaney sisters and Kevin Porter were there also. Only Kes and Neelix split off to speak to the other groups, the rest seemed to congregate together, looking a little confused as to why they were there. Ayala had an anxious glint in his eye as he stood close to the door, most likely ensuring that none of his group tried to leave.
"Just leave already." He heard Harry mutter under his breath and found himself whole-heartedly agreeing, though he knew the time of their departure would not make any difference. Tom would still be joining them on their home planet before Voyager left orbit. Chakotay inhaled deeply, remembering the meeting Tom had called only four hours before. Their pilot had called for Janeway, Chakotay, and Tuvok to be present, where he informed them of his plans to leave Voyager and remain with the Widariat's. His resignation had stunned all three of them; Tuvok hadn't even raised an eyebrow in enquiry. They didn't utter a word until he removed his two pips and placed them beside his pad of resignation, and his full intentions set in. Janeway had stood in disbelief.
"Lieutenant, what is your reasoning? As the chief pilot and a Senior Officer you have a responsibility to this ship and her crew. I cannot accept this resignation." She pushed it back towards Tom. Chakotay knew at that moment that this wasn't another set up; the first time Tom had resigned she had calmly accepted the pad and pips as though it had only been a matter of time. The denial in her eyes told him that she had not one clue that Tom had been planning to leave her ship.
"I'm sorry Captain, but it is not your choice. I do not feel I can continue as an officer aboard this ship without placing fellow cremates in danger."
"Tom." She said quietly. "What is this about? How would you possibly be endangering them? You are the best pilot and one of the finest officers onboard this ship. Please reconsider. We can find a solution to whatever problems you feel you have." Tom took a slightly shaky breath and looked over, briefly, at Chakotay. This was about his attack on Cornick and Bathet that took plays days before. This was about Chakotay knowing about his imprisonment. This was about something that Chakotay didn't know about yet and Tom was trying to prevent him and the rest of the crew knowing. Tom was running away from his problems. They had finally pushed him over his edge of endurance.
"I'm sorry Captain. My decision is final. I have listed suitable replacement recommendations for all my duties on board Voyager. The Widariats have agreed to allow me to stay on their home world where I will remain unless another more suitable option arises." He took a steadying breath and he met Janeway's eyes head on for the first time in this meeting. "Thank you, Kathryn, for everything that you've done for me. I know I didn't deserve it, and that I'm letting you down now. You'll just have to trust me when I say it's for the best…
Chakotay's reminiscence was interrupted as the door slid open again. He saw Janeway's sharp eyes glance over, and then lose some of their spark. Tom Paris had arrived for what would be the last time.
"Tom, no." Harry uttered in despair beside Chakotay as he turned to look. Tom had arrived, dressed not in his Starfleet uniform, but in black pants, cream shirt and a red-brown sleeveless vest. He did not carry any bags. He stopped just inside the door, looking pale and nervous, but his resolve was obvious with the way he stood. It was his lack of uniform that began catching the crew's attention and they began to look at him in slight confusion. Harry quickly advanced upon his best friend, his eyes on fire with a determination that Chakotay saw every time Voyager was in a dangerous confrontation. Tom looked as though he had expected this. He tried to lead Harry to a corner of the room but Harry was having none of that as he stopped his friend in the center. The room began to grow silent as the crew realized something was amiss. Ayala, Chakotay notices, was gazing intently and slowly making his way towards them as well.
"Tom, don't do this." Harry gazed at his friend fiercely. It came as an afterthought that Harry knew Tom was leaving them, that he wasn't surprised by the decision even though Tom had asked them to not say anything about his departure to anyone. Harry had still known.
"Harry, I'm sorry." Tom shook his head, meeting his friends eyes briefly before staring at the ground, over his shoulder, off to his left…
"You've lasted this long Tom, things can only get better from here. They just need more time. Just give them a little more time."
"I can't…"
"You can Tom! Please!" He hissed, in an attempt to keep from yelling. In the silence of the room it was impossible not to hear him anyway. Tom looked sharply into Harry's eyes, his blue gaze piercing, shining as though tears might soon form.
"Harry, I can't." He shook his head but didn't break eye contact. Chakotay swallowed thickly. Harry squared his shoulders and stood taller, not breaking their eye contact, his face determined.
"Then I'm coming with you." He stated boldly, not a waver to his voice.
"What the hell is going on here?" B'Elanna's demanding voice cut through the air, but nobody answered. She began to thread her way through the crowd to reach the two men. Ayala was now standing just off to the side. The other officers in the room looked shocked, the Delaney sisters kept glancing meaningfully at Janeway, as though she should step in and put a stop to this. Chakotay became even more worried, because Voyager could not afford to lose Harry on top of Tom. Losing Tom was hard enough.
"No, you're not Harry." Tom said quietly, reaching out and firmly gripping his friends shoulder. "Voyager needs you, she's your home. You need to get back to earth."
"So do you Tom!" he deducted fiercely.
"There is nothing for me there Harry, you know that. You have a life, family, friends…"
"And what about me? I'm your family too Tom. What about Kes, Janeway, and the doctor, we're your friends too."
"We'd be sorry to see you go Tom. Harry's right, the crew just need more time, but they will come around." Ayala stepped in, his soothing voice carrying confidently around the room. Chakotay noticed those that were not still taken by shock nodding their heads in agreement. Tom did too, but pretended not to notice.
"You can't just leave." Torres demanded angrily. "You're the best pilot we've got!"
"Baytart is an excellent pilot. You will all be in safe hands with him as well as with Jensen and Corally." Tom rebuffed calmly, still looking hard at Harry who was glaring right back. They were having an entirely separate conversation that nobody understood except the two of them.
"Tom, don't go. Seriously, you can't let a couple of bad apples turn you away from the entire crew." Megan called out and her sister nodded vigorously in agreement. But they didn't know the entire story. Janeway and Tuvok didn't know, not even Ayala or he understood the situation fully. It was clear to Chakotay that only two people understood what was really going on, and why Tom was leaving, and that was Tom and Harry. Tirzri'wa, Chakotay guessed, probably knew more then himself but he was not stepping in to say anything. This was Tom's choice and only Harry had any real right to say anything. The room fell to a brief silence as they watched the intense staring contest between the two best friends, and then Tom abruptly pulled Harry into a forceful embrace. Harry returned the grip as if he would never let go.