Notes: This was inspired by a question I've wondered about for a long time, a scene from B5 (whisper it softly), and a complaint that Harry never gets any flowers.

Virtual shortbread with caramel to those who recognise the scene I mean <g> No offence meant - please don't take any. Tis all in jest, but poison in jest - no offence i'th'world.

"Aww, Harryyyy." Tom whined.

There was a distinct sniffle.

"Please? I didn't mean to upset you. It was a joke! I thought you could take a joke."

"G'way."

"At least open the door. I feel such an idiot talking to you like this."

"Shoulda thought of that sooner."

"But Har. . .I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of it. We're all grown-ups here, I didn't think you'd mind." There was a long silence, and finally Tom sighed. "Fine. I'll leave you to sulk in your tent."

No response. Tom headed back to his own quarters. "Great. Harry's not talking to you. What can you think of to screw up next Paris?"

The answer was waiting for him at his door.

"B'Elanna!" He moved to kiss her, but she stepped away, something very like a growl coming from her throat.

"You," she said, shoving him a good three feet back the way he had come," are a bastard of no mean order. I thought he was your friend. I don't think I want to date someone who would do that to a friend."

"But B'Ela., you can't mean that. . . Can you?"

"Just because I've slept with you doesn't mean I want to start picking out china patterns. I think I'd like to play the field. Actually, I always wondered what Chak would be like in bed," she went on thoughtfully. A speculative smile crossed her face and widened into a grin. "Bye Tom. Nice while it lasted."

"But B'Ela!"

"And don't call me that. It's for friends and family only." She stalked away, nose in the air.

Tom hit his head against the wall a couple of times. "What else can possibly--"

"Janeway to Lt Paris."

"Paris here."

"Please come to my ready room at 15.00 hours."

"I'll be there." He glanced at the chronometer - he had around 15 seconds.

. . .

"You're late."

"Yes ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am."

"Sorry doesn't cut it Ensign. Frankly, I'm appalled at what I've heard of your recent behaviour, and being late is the last straw as far as I'm concerned. You are removed from bridge duty indefinitely."

He clutched at his pips, but too late. Strong fingers pulled his hands away, and removed the extra pip. "But you need me! I'm the best pilot you have!"

" Seven is turning out a very competent pilot. And several others have expressed an interest in taking the conn. Mr Neelix for instance is very eager to learn."

"What! Seven can't possibly--"

"Ms Nine to you, mister."

"And Neelix?! You can't be serious! Captain, please!"

"You've had your orders. Now, we don't have enough people to let you slouch around sulking all day, so I'm assigning you to SickBay and the Mess Hall. You'll be on clean up duty till further notice."

He was about to protest again, and caught her eye, and subsided.

"Any questions Mr Paris?"

"No ma'am. Or -- why?"

"Mr Kim has many friends. And I cannot allow anyone to believe such behaviour will be tolerated., or who knows where it would end." she said dryly. "Dismissed. Consider yourself lucky I don't throw you out of an airlock."

Paris crawled out of the Captain's ready room. He crept through the corridors. Even the walls seemed filled with silent disdain.

The transporter logs! He hurried down to transporter room one. It would be real early. The first day. He downloaded everything and took it back to his room. Six hours later he still hadn't identified it, but he'd made some amazing discoveries. Who'd've thought that Janeway would be carrying all that leather in her private luggage. He wondered whether to mention it to the Commander, to let him know what he was missing out on. <And maybe B'Elanna'd come back to me.>

"Nah, don't want her anyway. Probably time to move on anyway, before anyone starts talking commitment." <Sour grapes? Me?>

"Maybe I could try taking Chakotay off her. That'd crimp her tail feathers." He thought about it, waltzing off with the handsome XO, stealing him from under B'Elanna's snooty, over-confident nose. His mind played out the scenario: B'Elanna, small and stunned; Chakotay, devoted to his young male lover. B'Elanna begging Tom to take her back, Tom refusing, telling her he had found true happiness with the tall Maquis captain. B'Elanna breaking every bone in his body. Chakotay laughing in his face as he headed off to sleep with B'Elanna and the captain. In the same bed. Tom moaned faintly. Maybe not.

Great. Now he had an itch and no one to scratch it. All this fuss for just a little joke. He sighed theatrically, causing the computer screen to wave alarmingly in the breeze. He steadied it with one hand, and saw it.

There. The log entry for the transport of Ensign Harry Kim. Luggage. Personal possessions. . . Okay. There it was. Now he had to figure out how to rematerialise it, and everything would go back to normal.

He was dashing down to the transporter room again when his comm badge chirped. "Paris here."

"You're supposed to be in Sickbay ensign. Move."

"Ensign!!" But he was already running.

Ten hours later he was in the Mess Hall, mopping the floors. The carpets didn't mop very well, but Neelix had insisted, and Tom had to obey. No one had actually talked to him since before the start of his double shift, except to order him on to some new and more than normally disgusting task.

He muttered darkly. Why did everyone keep having sex? So far he'd cleaned the walls and floors of the seven turbolifts eight times that day. Frankly it was a miracle any work was getting done at all. Various offices had had to be stripped and sanitised, and no one would discuss why the warp core had got those stains along it. He'd never realised how much work it was to clean up. Maybe that fraternisation rule should be re-introduced. He glanced down the padd when it beeped to tell him the rest of his work schedule had been downloaded. Please. No.

Next on his roster were the bedrooms. And he still hadn't managed to fix the thing that had started all this.

There was a sudden silence in the Mess Hall, and Tom looked up, quite certain that it would somehow turn out to be his fault. He was right. Harry walked into the room, towards the food, shoulders drooping, face a picture of misery. Eyes flickered from Tom to Harry and back, but Tom dropped his head guiltily, and went on mopping, while B'Elanna and the Delaney sisters surrounded Harry with soft touches and kind words, steering him away from realising that Tom was even there.

Tom overheard small snatches of conversation.

"--poor Harry - he's coping so well--"

"--if he could do it to Harry, his supposed best friend, he could do it to anyone!" a wave of horror flooded the Mess Hall at the thought.

"--he deserves worse than cleaning the floors--"

"--I've never tried keelhauling someone in a vacuum, but I think I could make an exception--"

"--how would he like it if someone did something like that to him?"

And then, worst of all, Harry's voice, soft and broken, "it's not that I blame Tom. He just never thinks. And now. . .I'm all on my own."

"You don't have to be, Harry," Jenny Delaney murmured sweetly.

Tom was startled by the surge of panic. She'd never even made a pass at him! She couldn't want Harry more than Tom!

"That's kind of you, but --" he paused to blow his nose. The three women recoiled briefly, then leaned in, closer still. "But I really only want him back."

He sniffed again. "I miss my teddy bear."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part deux:


Tom tossed and turned in his bed, dreaming. Harry's face, larger than life, and filled with grief and accusation whispered from the witness stand, "I had that teddy bear from the day I was born. I never had many toys. Some years, my parents would just wrap it up again and give it to me for Christmas. I never minded, I was just glad to have him back. He's saved my life, so many times. Once, on a training mission, my team and I would've starved to death if it hadn't been for the food impregnated in its ears. I, I just miss my teddy bear. I miss it so much."

Somewhere in the background a violin sobbed and wailed in poignant counterpoint. Nicoletti had been practising.

On the dais, bewigged and gavel in hand, Janeway thundered down at the cowering lieutenant. Sorry. Ensign.

"This court finds you guilty as charged, that on last Tuesday, you did, wilfully, and thinking that it was," she consulted her notes for the correct phrasing. "'going to be a giggle', eject Babsi Kim, a teddy bear of this ship, into the vast void of space."

There was a gasp in the court, and Harry's tears redoubled.

"Upon ejecting said bear, and before a transporter lock could be obtained, you 'blew the little smegger away'. Mr Kim was forced to watch as Babsi," the captain cleared her throat, visibly controlling herself, "Babsi, was incinerated by a direct hit with a 400,000 mega watt phaser beam. The sentence of this court is that you receive the same treatment you so callously inflicted on a venerable and much loved member of this crew."

"Have you anything to say?"

"I didn't mean - I didn't think - Harry, please, you're my friend. Save me!"

"On the contrary, Harry has accepted my offer to pull the trigger."

"Noooooooooooo!!!!!!"""""" Paris wrenched himself awake, heart rate pounding. He leapt to his feet. There was still time. He fled through the ship to the transporter room. The codes. The sequence. The bright coloured buttons and slidey things.

There was a blue glow on the transporter pads. He peered through one eye, cautiously, hoping against hope.

There it was, the same, scruffy figure. One eyed, squashed flat, one ear chewed into a matted threadbare mass. Babsi. Tom scooped it up, hugging it, dancing around the transporter room. Perhaps they'd forgive him.

He hastened to Harry's quarters, oblivious to the looks he was getting as he ran, dressed only in purple silk boxers, clutching a teddy bear to his bear chest. "Harry!"

"Harry!" He tapped at his commbadge, only to find he wasn't wearing it.

"Harry -- oh, hang on!"

He fled to the nearest replicator. Something as an apology.

He returned to find Harry standing at the open door, peering blearily down the corridors.

"Here!" and he thrust the teddy, two boxes of chocolates, a large bunch of Bell flowers and Hiralian roses, a plate of Grandma Janeway's cookies, two bottles of Arkelian wine, and a small pot plant at his soon to be friend.

All but Babsi fell to the floor. Tom moaned faintly, realising he'd be cleaning it all up tomorrow.

"Oh Babsi! Oh Tom! Oh Babsi." Harry flung his arms around Tom and kissed him, holding the bear tightly in one hand, and Tom with the other.

Tom was just getting interested, when Harry let go and hugged the bear with both arms, a beatific smile on his face.

"Am I forgiven?" the lieuten -- ensign asked anxiously.

"Oh yes, Tom." Harry had eyes only for Babsi, sinking to sit on the couch, the battered brown bear sat on his knees, stroking its furry little head.

Tom perched next to him on the arm of the sofa, and dropped a cautious arm around Harry's shoulders. "Are you sure?" he said softly, and slid onto the sofa to sit behind Harry.

"And Babsi forgives you too. Don't you Babsi? Whosa wuzzums den?" The bear was made to nod, its expression long-suffering and lop-sided. Tom's eyes crossed briefly in disbelief. He snuck an arm around Harry's waist, under pretext of stroking Babsi. With difficulty he repressed a moan, feeling himself pressed right up against Harry's back.

Maybe that itch was gonna get scratched after all. He rested his head against Harry's neck. "How do I know you've really forgiven me?" he asked plaintively, wriggling in closer.

"Tom, you're about as subtle as a bitch in heat."

"Sorry," and Tom started to pull away, defeated.

"I like that in a man."

And, some time later. . .

"Not on the floor! I just cleaned it! Not on the floor!"

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Page last updated 21:42 28/03/2006.