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☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
"I didn't see him coming. You saved my life." The man turned around, and Davis saw he was Asian. Japanese?
"Why are you out of uniform? What company are you with?" Davis asked, suspicious.
"Well, um, I'm...I'm a civilian."
"In the middle of a battle zone in France? The hell you are." Davis scowled. "You're a deserter, or a spy." Either way, the penalty was the same, on the battlefield. There was no time to fool around. He raised his gun, then hesitated. The spy looked so young, and so scared. He was barely more than a kid.
He hesitated too long. The kid threw the toolkit he was carrying at Davis' head. He ducked, and fired on pure reflex. The young man in the strange clothes took the bullet in the back, falling to the floor.
In the back. He was trying to run away, not attack. Damn it. War was such a bitch.
Something crunched under Davis' foot as he stepped toward his fallen enemy. The man's toolkit had opened when it hit the floor, spilling out a variety of radio equipment or something. Technology he'd never seen before. Well, well. The kid was a spy. Davis crushed the weird radio gear under his boot heel as best he could, then raised his gun to deliver the coup de grâce.
The kid lay on his side, and was looking up at Davis with a bewildered expression, blood spreading through his odd clothing and onto the floor. Davis knew he should aim for the head at this range. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to put a bullet in that innocent young face.
The sloe eyes shut, and the body stilled. No need to shoot him again, it seemed. Good, because he wasn't sure he could.
He'd done the right thing, but he didn't feel very good about it. Reaching down, he ripped the gold and silver badge off the blood-soaked jacket. He wasn't sure what it was — rank insignia, medal, jewelry? — but maybe someday, when the war was over, he would find out who this boy was, and try to find his family, let them know what happened to him, and give them this memento of their son. "I'm sorry," he whispered, then turned and continued on his mission.
Tom had shot him. Harry could hardly believe it. He lay on the deck, so shocked he hardly felt the pain. Instinctively, he played dead, waiting until Tom's footsteps faded away. Then he began crawling. He'd installed hundreds of holo-emitters over the past few weeks. There had to be one nearby. Yes, there it was. He tapped the command in, got it wrong, tried again.
The air shimmered, and the Doctor appeared. "Ensign?"
"Shot," Harry said, coughing. It was getting hard to breathe, let alone talk. He let himself collapse onto the deck.
"Don't move, Mr. Kim. I'll be back in a moment. I have to find a working replicator."
Harry was expecting that. The holo-emitters on this deck allowed the Doctor to transfer here, but he couldn't bring any medical equipment or supplies, not without a transporter.
The Doctor reappeared, armed with a tricorder and a field medical kit. He unsealed Harry's uniform and began doing something with the tricorder and a regenerator. It got easier to breathe. Though that made the pain a lot more noticeable.
"What happened, Mr. Kim?"
"Tom...shot me."
"Mr. Paris? What were you doing on the holodeck?"
"I wasn't on the holodeck. That explosion...the crew and the holo-characters are wandering around in the corridors now. Keep an eye out."
The Doctor looked around; the corridor was quiet at the moment. The sounds of gunfire had faded away, which was a good sign. Probably.
"Well, there's a holographic bullet in your chest," the Doctor said. "Just missed your heart, luckily for you. It will disappear when you get out of range of the holo-emitters, or when this program is terminated, so I'll leave it where it is. And your rib was broken. I patched it with the osteo-regenerator, but it could use some time with the bone-knitting laser down in sickbay." He loaded up a hypo, and moved to apply it to Harry's neck.
Harry stopped him. "What is it?"
"Just a painkiller," the Doctor said.
"No," Harry said. "I need a clear head."
"Why? You'll be in sickbay."
"No. I need to get to the bridge."
"There's only so much I can do here. We have to get you to sickbay."
"I can't."
"Mr. Kim, you are acting against medical advice. Come to sickbay, or I will not be responsible."
"I understand, Doc. But the captain and Seven need my help from Ops. I can't hang them out to dry."
"You may not survive!"
"If I do go to sickbay, they won't let you treat me. Only Hirogen get medical care now."
"But—"
Harry cut him off. "I have to do this. If we don't succeed in taking down the holo-emitter network, nothing else matters." Surely the Doctor understood. The Hirogen were slowly killing them. Torturing them to death. Harry didn't want to survive just to see that continue. And it was probably even worse for the Doctor than it had been for Harry. The EMH had a close up view of the crew's endless suffering, forced to patch them up and send them out to be killed again and again.
The Doctor looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well." He adjusted the hypo. "There, I've lowered the dose. You'll still have a clear head. I also have to give you a coagulant, or you could bleed to death when you leave this deck and that holographic bullet disappears."
Harry let the Doctor give him the hypospray. The pain immediately receded from fiery agony to merely very uncomfortable. "Thanks, Doc."
"Drink as much water as you can. It will help you replace the blood you've lost. And try to avoid exertion, or even I may not be able to save you."
Harry let the Doctor help him up, then paused, putting a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "If....if I don't make it, when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant, tell my parents I love them." He hesitated, then added, "Tell Tom I love him, too." He probably shouldn't have said that last part, but...
If the Doctor was surprised, he gave no sign. "Good luck...Harry."
That gave Harry pause. The Doctor had never called him by his first name before. Who had programmed that? Harry shook the Doctor's hand, then turned and headed for the bridge.
Tom eased down the access corridor to the bridge. He was point man, a Hirogen weapon heavy and unfamiliar in his hands. B'Elanna, Chakotay, and Neelix followed behind him, with Tuvok as rear guard.
He could hear angry voices, and as he peeked around the last corner, he could see two Hirogen...and Harry. A Harry who looked rather the worse for wear. At least he was alive.
"Cut life support to decks five to twelve," one of the Hirogen said.
"No," Harry said.
The Hirogen shoved him violently, sending him sprawling against a console. "Cut life support to decks five to twelve."
"Blow it out your afterburners," Harry spat.
Rather impolitic. Tom winced as the Hirogen responded with right hook that slammed Harry against the wall. If only Harry would move away from the Hirogen. Tom wasn't used to this weapon, and wasn't sure he could take out the Hirogen without shooting Harry as well.
The Hirogen stepped closer, looming over Harry. "You have been protected from the hunt...but now, you are prey. Run."
Harry seemed disinclined to take the role of prey. He straightened, glaring defiantly and standing his ground.
"I said run!" the Hirogen roared, hitting Harry with a vicious backhand.
Harry staggered, then stumbled toward the turbolift. He saw Tom and the rest in the access corridor, but didn't seem reassured. He turned and ran across the bridge, into the captain's ready room. Well, he should be safe there. Tom turned his attention to the Hirogen, who had caught sight of them. They had a firefight on their hands.
The ready room was empty, if you didn't count the bones and other trophies hung from the ceiling. Harry ordered the door locked. One thing he'd managed to do during the long weeks of Hirogen occupation: give himself top level access codes. Even the captain would have trouble overriding the lock.
He searched the room's storage lockers, hoping to find a weapon, but didn't find any. There was a standard toolkit, at least.
The access to the Jefferies tube system was against the right wall. Harry opened it, entered, and carefully shut it behind him.
He should be okay in here, for awhile anyway. They would eventually get the door unlocked, but it would take them time. The Hirogen did not fit easily into the Jefferies tubes. And the humans would presumably be too busy with each other, and the Hirogen, to bother about Harry.
If only he weren't so tired. His chest hurt, and he was tempted to rest for a bit. But he had to make sure they couldn't cut off life support. Most of the crew were on those decks. He might already be too late. He crawled faster. It was farther than he thought...there it was. The manifold that led to the main EPS relays to the bridge. Not too late. Life support had not been cut off...yet. Harry sighed in relief.
It would take about half an hour to disable the connection from the life support controls to the bridge. At least this would be easily reversible. Unlike so many of the other changes to Voyager he'd been forced to make over the past weeks.
Harry was learning, Tom conceded. It wasn't as easy to break his authorization codes as it used to be. There was no piloting to be done with the engines shut down, so Tom worked on getting the ready room door open. It probably would have been faster if Tuvok or B'Elanna helped, but they were busy with security and emergency repairs.
Finally, after half an hour, the door slid open. Harry wasn't in the ready room. Neither was anyone else. Though there was some...interesting new decor. Thankfully, a quick tricorder scan showed that none of the bones were anyone he knew.
There was no other door, so Harry must have left via the Jefferies tube access. Tom had tried comming his friend, only to find he had Harry's combadge in his pocket for some reason. Had Harry given it to him, maybe hoping to beam him out of the holodeck? In any case, there didn't seem to be any way to get into contact with Harry.
The senior staff, sans Harry, assembled in the briefing room. The captain wanted to give the Hirogen holodeck technology. Tuvok pointed out that it was a violation of the Prime Directive, but the captain disagreed. Tom didn't have an opinion either way.
The Doctor didn't, either. On video link, he asked where Harry was. "We don't know," Tom confessed. "Somewhere in the Jefferies tube system, I think. He's not wearing his combadge."
"You have to find him," the Doctor said. "He should be in sickbay. If we had a sickbay."
The captain had blown up sickbay in order to disable the neural interfaces. It would take awhile to get it repaired. The only reason the Doctor was online was that B'Elanna had searched the wreckage to find his mobile emitter, and transferred his program.
"Sorry, Doctor," Janeway said. "It was necessary."
"Understood," the Doctor answered. "I am setting up a temporary sickbay in the mess hall."
"You have priority," Janeway said. "Replicate whatever you need."
"Thank you, Captain. And Mr. Paris — I could use your help down here. Bring Mr. Kim with you when you find him."
"Will do," Tom said. "What's wrong with Harry?"
"He was shot by a holographic bullet. I patched him up, but was unable to properly heal him with the time and equipment available. He left against medical advice, and is not ready to be putting in 18-hour shifts crawling through Jefferies tubes yet."
"I'll find him," Tom said. The captain nodded, and Tom grabbed a tricorder and went to the ready room.
There was just one Jefferies tube access in the ready room. Tom opened it, and went in, scanning.
Harry had finished with the life support controls and was considering what other things it might be a good idea to disable, when he heard an access panel being pulled open. Someone was trying to follow him.
Damn it. He'd better find a place to hide. Whether it was a Hirogen or a neuro-controlled human, it probably wouldn't be good to be discovered sabotaging ship's systems. He packed up his toolkit as quietly as possible, and began crawling toward the narrowest section of the Jefferies tube system. The Hirogen would never fit into such tight spaces.
He would try to get to sickbay through these little-used passages. It was the long way around, but it would be safer than the wider main passages, or the corridors. He could help the Doctor disable the neural interfaces, if he hadn't done it already.
And maybe get some medical treatment. He drew in shallow breaths, trying not to cough. He reached a junction, and climbed down. Now he just needed a passage that headed starboard. There was one...
He was starting to feel so weak and lightheaded. He wanted to keep going, but everything was getting dark. Deciding he had to rest for a bit, he squeezed himself into a small alcove, trying to hide himself. Senses dimming, he dug a laser welder from the toolkit, the closest thing he had to a weapon, before the blackness swallowed him.
Tom came to an intersection, and paused, not sure which way to go. He almost called Harry's name, but reconsidered. If there were still hostile Hirogen nearby, he didn't want to advertise his...or Harry's...location. The captain and the leader of the Hirogen had announced the end of hostilities over the comm, but anyone in the Jefferies tube system wouldn't have heard it. Not to mention, some of the Hirogen didn't agree with their Alpha.
Then he noticed the dark smudges in the left passage. The tricorder confirmed it was human blood, fairly fresh. "Damn it, Harry," Tom muttered, and followed the trail, deeper into ever narrower passages. Great. Just great. He could think of about a million places he'd rather be than in these cramped, murky passages. But he had to find Harry. He crawled on.
He kept imagining Hirogen jumping out of the darkness. Which was ridiculous. They would never fit into passages this narrow. Probably why Harry was going this way...
Tom almost missed him. Harry was curled into a small niche in a dark side passage, so still that if not for the tricorder, Tom would not have found him. He was alive, according the readings. Tom took his wrist to feel for a pulse, to make sure...and jerked away with a yelp when burning pain slashed across his chin. Harry was lashing out with a laser welder.
"Ow! It's me, cut that out."
Harry didn't seem reassured. His grip on the welder tightened. Maybe he was delirious?
"Please, buddy. Put that down." Tom held his hands up in a supplicating gesture. "You're okay now. You don't need that. Give it to me." He reached one hand in slowly. Harry slashed again with the welder, getting Tom's forearm this time. "Damn it!" Tom was forced to retreat.
Harry finally spoke. "Tom would never come here. He's claustrophobic." He made another threatening jab with the laser welder.
"Yes, I'm claustrophobic. I'm here because my best friend is about to bleed to death." Tom had a hand phaser on his belt, and he thought about just stunning Harry, but he hated to do that to someone with unknown injuries. It was a last resort. "Please, Harry."
Harry hesitated. "You know my name?" he asked.
What the...? "Of course I do. Now please, Har...give me the welder."
"Tom..." It was barely more than a breath. Slowly, Harry let the welder drop. Tom reached slowly over and took it. "Good," Tom said. "Can you crawl out here?"
"In a minute," Harry said. His eyes slid shut.
"Harry!" Energy was in short supply, but Tom decided a site to site transport was in order. He dug Harry's combadge out of his pocket, and pressed it into Harry's hand. "Computer, beam Ensign Kim to the mess hall."
Harry disappeared, and Tom began making his way out of the Jefferies tube system. Any other time, he'd have beamed out with Harry, if only to get out of this cramped, creepy section of the Jefferies tube network as quickly as possible, but Voyager really didn't have the energy to spare right now.
By the time he got to the mess hall, the Doc had Harry on a cot in a makeshift surgical bay. "There you are, Mr. Paris. It's about time." He did a double take. "You're injured."
Tom wasn't sure what the Doctor meant at first. Then he remembered. "Harry was out of his head. He didn't recognize me, and was waving a laser welder around."
"Let me see."
"It's nothing," Tom said.
"I'll be the judge of that." The Doctor healed on the wound on Tom's chin, then helped him remove his army jacket. There was burn mark on his shirt sleeve, and a matching angry red welt across his forearm. Tom pulled up his shirt sleeve and let the Doctor look at the wound. Harry must be okay, if the Doctor was concerned about this scratch. His friend was still and pale on the cot, but the readings looked okay, so far as Tom could tell.
"So, who shot Harry?" he asked, as the Doctor plied the regenerator.
The Doctor gave him a long look. "You did."
"What???"
"Hold still!" The Doctor finished his work, and pulled down Tom's sleeve. "There you go. Good as new." He turned back to Harry. "Tricorder," he said, holding out his hand.
"Wait a minute, Doc," Tom protested. He looked at Harry, noticing the bruises on the wan face. "I shot Harry? Did I beat him up, too?"
"The Hirogen did that, I believe," the Doctor said. "But you'll have to ask him." He repeated, "Tricorder."
Tom gave him the medical tricorder. "Doc, tell me what happened. Why did I shoot him?"
"I'm afraid I don't know. I wasn't there."
"He didn't tell you?"
"We didn't have much time for conversation. Mr. Paris, we were in a triage situation for three weeks. I took care of the critical cases, but any minute now, I expect a flood of the less critically injured patients. I'd prefer to get Mr. Kim taken care of before then."
Tom swallowed his protests, and nodded. The patients came first. And the least he could do, if he'd shot Harry, was help heal him.
"Let's turn him on his left side," the Doctor instructed. "The wound is in his back."
"I shot him in the back?!" Tom couldn't help exclaiming.
"Mr. Paris," the Doctor replied, a warning note in his voice.
Again, Tom swallowed his protests. They got to work getting Harry cleaned up. First, they removed his torn, dirty uniform. The dark stains were blood, Tom realized, some dried, some fresh. He used a portable sonic cleaner to remove the dirt and blood from Harry's skin, leaving just the half-healed bullet wound. And a whole lot of colorful bruises, ranging from fresh to nearly healed. "You let him walk around like this?" Tom demanded. Harry not only had bruises on his bruises, it looked like he hadn't been getting regular meals, either.
"I didn't have a choice," the Doctor said sharply. "If I disagreed with the Hirogen medical decisions, they turned me off."
"Sorry," Tom said, after a long moment. He was just beginning to get his mind around what it must have been like, those three weeks he didn't remember.
He replicated a patient gown and got Harry into it. "Why would I have shot him?"
The Doctor gave an exasperated sigh. "You weren't yourself, Mr. Paris. He didn't blame you."
"How do you know?" Tom asked, remembering the way Harry had threatened him with the laser welder.
The Doctor hesitated. "He knew he might not survive. He...asked me to tell you he loves you."
"W-what?" Tom whispered. He looked at Harry, still unconscious on the cot. What had he meant by that? Just a way to offer forgiveness? Platonic love? Or...? He gently stroked Harry's bruised face. If Harry had ever given Tom any indication that... Then the Doctor's other words sunk in. Might not survive??
"Bone knitter," the Doctor said. Tom gave him the implement, and watched as the Doctor ran it over Harry's back.
"Will he be all right, Doc?"
"He should be fine. This injury, while potentially fatal, would have been easily healed if he had come to sickbay as I told him. There's only so much even I can do with a field medical kit." He held out his hand. "Regenerator, type 9."
Well, that was a relief. Tom handed over the regenerator. He was reassured to note that Harry's color was distinctly improving as the regenerator did its work. The Doctor asked for the tricorder again. "Lung looks good," he proclaimed, and took up the regenerator again, moving on to Harry's other injuries.
"Well, that should do it," the Doctor said a few minutes later. "I'd like to keep him at least overnight. Let's move him to another bed, in case we need our temporary surgical bay for other patients." Tom thought about replicating or improvising a stretcher, then decided what the heck. He gently lifted Harry into his arms and carried him to a cot near the wall.
"Mr. Paris! That is not an approved method of transporting patients."
"It's quicker this way. And it won't hurt him." Tom had checked Harry's chart, and knew enough about medicine to know that.
"It's you I'm concerned about," the Doctor replied. "I need you as a medic, not a forklift."
"Don't worry, I'm fine." Tom paused, looking down at his friend, lax and unresponsive, but warm and alive and safe in his arms. His hold tightened briefly, possessively. Had he really tried to kill Harry? His best friend? He shuddered, unable to think about what might have happened if he'd been successful.
Carefully, he placed Harry on the new cot, heart breaking at the thought of what might have been. Harry's last sight would have been of Tom...killing him.
"Mr. Paris, I hate to interrupt such a tender reunion, but we have other patients. Or will shortly."
Tom nodded, and left Harry's side to ready the supplies and equipment they would need.
The Doctor was right. Before long, there was a long line of patients waiting for treatment, and Tom didn't have time to worry about Harry.
"Thank you, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said. "I think we're done here. You can go. Get something to eat, and get some rest. From what I observed, the Hirogen didn't take very good care of their 'prey.'"
"I will. After I check on Harry."
Harry was curled on his side on the cot under the windows. He looked tense and uncomfortable. Tom looked at the medical tricorder clipped to the edge of the cot in lieu of biobed functions. Was Harry in pain? No, thankfully. He was just cold. They'd forgotten to give him a blanket.
Tom fetched a blanket from a stack he had replicated earlier. Harry visibly relaxed as it was tucked around him. "Thanks, Kes," he mumbled.
Kes? Kes had left months ago. Well, Harry had enough drugs in him that he might well be a little confused. "Wrong cute blond. I'm not Kes," Tom said.
Harry's eyes blinked open. His dark gaze was unfocused, then he seemed to notice Tom. The blood pressure and heart rate indicators spiked. Tom realized he was still wearing his WWII uniform. Damn it. He should have changed. "Harry, it's okay," he said, remembering Harry had been calmed by the use of his name. "You're going to be all right, Har. The Doc wants you to stay here overnight, but you're going to be fine."
Harry's eyes shut, and he took a deep breath. His blood pressure and pulse started going back down to normal levels. "Tom. You...know me?"
"Of course I do, Harry." Tom tried to remember what the Doctor had said. "The...neural interfaces have been disabled. Everything's okay."
"The Hirogen?" Harry asked.
"Gone. We've got a lot of repairs to do, but...hey, where do you think you're going?" Harry was trying to get up.
"I just remembered...I cut off the bridge control of life support. I have to fix it."
"Harry. You are on medical leave for at least another day. Don't even think about getting up to go crawling through Jefferies tubes." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, holding him down on the cot.
"But..."
"Don't make me restrain you. You can tell B'Elanna what needs to be fixed. But you're staying here."
Harry didn't look happy. "She's going to kill me for what I've done to Voyager."
"Harry, she's not going to kill you. You saved us all." Harry was obviously still drugged up enough that he wasn't thinking clearly. No one felt anything but gratitude for what Harry had done during the Hirogen occupation.
Harry didn't look convinced.
"Tell you what, Har. I'll get you a padd. You can list the repairs needed. I'll give it to B'Elanna, and protect you if she does try to kill you."
Harry considered that, then settled back down. "Okay. Thanks." He looked at Tom's hand, still on his shoulder, and the burnt sleeve above it. "I hurt you," Harry said. "I'm sorry. I thought..."
"You had reason," Tom said. "The Doc says I'm the one who shot you."
"Not your fault," Harry said fiercely, taking Tom's hand. Tom's stomach sank, and he realized he'd been hoping it wasn't true.
"Harry...why did I...?" He'd been wracking his brain, trying to remember what had happened, but he couldn't. He remembered the Hirogen boarding Voyager, entering the bridge. Harry being shot trying to defend the Captain, Tom drawing his hand phaser to protect Harry...then nothing. Until there was a searing flash of pain in his head, and he found himself in a corridor, wearing a 20th century military uniform, without knowing how he got there.
Harry squeezed his hand. "Blame the Hirogen," he said. "The neural interfaces completely overrode people's memories and personalities. They became the characters in the holoprograms. You weren't you. Don't worry about it."
Tom couldn't help worrying about it. "What would make me shoot you?"
"You thought you were on a battlefield. I wasn't in uniform. And in that sim, I...looked more like the enemy than an ally."
"And I shot you in the back?"
"It was my fault," Harry said. "I threw a toolkit at you. You shot me in self-defense."
"In the back?"
"It happened so fast," Harry said.
"Oh, god. Harry, I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault," Harry repeated. "I didn't blame you."
"Is...is that why you wanted the Doctor to tell me you...love me?"
Harry's eyes widened in shock. The tricorder flashed a warning as his blood pressure plummeted.
"He told you that?" Harry finally managed. His blood pressure was stabilizing, Tom noted. Just an emotional reaction, nothing that required medical intervention. "He was only supposed to tell you that if I died." He sounded almost comically aggrieved.
"I was kind of upset when I found out I shot you. He was just trying to reassure me." Tom hesitated, then continued. "That's why you said it, right? You wanted me to know you didn't blame me."
"Yeah," Harry said, shutting his eyes. "That's what I meant."