Work Text:
It was worse, much worse than Harry expected. He had managed to restore the connection from the bridge to the holodecks, but who knows how long it would stay up, with the battles now raging through deck seven, as well decks five and six. Rapid-fire gunshots rang out behind him, getting closer, and he looked back nervously.
A click from in front of him told him he'd been looking in the wrong direction. A holographic soldier raised his weapon. I'm dead. The thought barely had time to register before more gunshots sounded from behind him, shockingly close, and the hologram fell to the deck.
Harry spun around to see that his rescuer was Tom Paris, wearing a historical military uniform.
"Tom!" The sight of his friend flooded Harry with relief so intense it made his knees weak.
Tom didn't look as happy to see Harry. "Wrong guy. You speak English?"
Of course. The neural interface meant he wouldn't recognize Harry. In the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten. The disappointment was crushing. "Yeah. I speak English."
"American?" Tom asked suspiciously.
Harry nodded. "I didn't see him coming. You saved my life." Which was most definitely true. The Hirogen were only giving medical treatment to their own now. Assuming they would have ever bothered to treat Harry, deemed unworthy prey.
"Why are you out of uniform? What company are you with?"
"Well, um, I'm...I'm a civilian." This wasn't going well. Curse the Hirogen for sending him down here anyway. Repairs be damned.
"In the middle of a battle zone in France? The hell you are." Tom gestured at the man with him. Who must be a holocharacter, because Harry didn't recognize him. "Go on, I'm right behind you."
Tom stepped closer, pistol aimed unwaveringly at Harry's face. Harry shut his eyes, resigned. It was almost a relief, after the endless, hopeless struggle of the last few weeks. Very ironic, really. He'd survived so much since being thrown into the Delta Quadrant, only to be killed by his best friend. Never let it be said that the universe didn't have a sense of humor.
Then he pulled himself together. There was finally some hope, he reminded himself. He had the captain and Seven to help him now. They were relying on him. He'd at least go down fighting. Maybe he could take the gun from Tom. Not that he could ever shoot Tom, but he'd probably be able to escape if Tom were disarmed. He opened his eyes...to find Tom looking at him, a strange expression on his face. Did part of him remember Harry after all?
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Trust me, Tom. Please let me go, Harry begged silently.
"Turn around," Tom finally said.
Harry hesitated, then obeyed. He heard rustling as Tom fumbled with something. "Put your hands behind your back."
Harry briefly considered trying to make an escape, then decided against it. Tom wouldn't bother doing this if he was planning to kill Harry...would he? He let Tom bind his wrists together.
"I should kill you," Tom said. "But..." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, a heartbreakingly familiar gesture. "I'm going to tie you up and leave you someplace safe," Tom said. He pushed Harry down the corridor, back toward the holodeck. Into a dark alley in the French village, down some steps into a basement.
So Tom wasn't going to shoot him...yet, anyway. But with immediate death less of a consideration, Harry was starting to worry about getting back to the bridge. The captain was counting on him being at Ops.
"Tom, I'm on your side," he tried.
Tom shoved him down on the ground. "I told you, wrong guy. My name is Bobby." Tom was looking at him with an odd intensity in his eyes. "I should kill you," he said again. "But you're too pretty."
Pretty? That had to be the neural interface talking. Harry was scruffy, dirty, battered, and bruised. It had been way too long since he'd had a hot shower, clean clothes, or even a chance to comb his hair. His own mother wouldn't call him pretty right now.
But Tom didn't seem to mind. He knelt beside Harry, and was running his fingers through Harry's hair, along his cheek and across his lips. The way Tom was looking at him...was not the way a man with a girlfriend should be looking at someone else.
"I need something to tie your feet with," Tom said. He put the gun down, then jerked Harry's uniform jacket open. He took a small knife from a pocket, and began cutting Harry's undershirt off him.
Harry shivered, partly with fear, partly with the cold. His chest was now bare, and it was chilly in the dim basement. Tom reached out and rubbed a thumb over one of Harry's erect nipples. Harry jerked in surprise, but kept his gaze resolutely down, not looking at Tom. Maybe if he ignored him, he'd get bored and leave.
Tom...no, it wasn't Tom. It was Bobby, Harry reminded himself. Bobby pushed him flat on the floor, and started pulling at Harry's pants, struggling with the fastenings as if he'd never seen them before. Eventually, he figured it out, and pulled Harry's pants and underwear down.
"Stop. Please," Harry said, alarmed.
"Don't be afraid," Tom said. "Shhh." He leaned in to kiss Harry. Harry turned his face away, and Tom lips landed on his jawline. Undeterred, Tom began kissing and licking his way down Harry's neck.
Had someone really programmed this into a holodeck character? Or was this some part of Tom, breaking through? Tom's were roaming Harry's body, stroking his shoulders, chest, thighs. Harry looked away, trying to ignore what was happening, trying to think of a way to escape.
But Tom's caresses were difficult to ignore. Harry couldn't help shivering in response. It had been a long time since he had been touched this way. A long time since he'd been touched at all, aside from angry Hirogen blows. He hadn't realized it until now, how much he'd missed basic human contact. All his friends were down in the holodecks; he hadn't seen them for weeks. The handful of other ensigns and crewmen kept out of the hunt weren't people he knew well. Not that they had much time to socialize anyway. The past few weeks had been desperately lonely ones.
Maybe Tom sensed it. Maybe Harry had been radiating some kind of unconscious signals that Tom had picked up on. In any case, Tom wasn't in his right mind. Harry was. He had to stop this. "Please, don't do this." It came out softer, rougher than he expected. "You...your unit needs you."
Tom didn't answer. He grabbed Harry's hair, pulling him into a deep kiss.
There wasn't much Harry could do to resist, bound as he was. And part of him didn't want to. He melted into the kiss for a moment. Forgetting that this wasn't really Tom. Forgetting that Tom didn't have the kind of feelings for Harry that Harry had for Tom. Forgetting about B'Elanna.
B'Elanna. Harry got a grip on himself. He couldn't avoid Tom's kiss, but he sure shouldn't be kissing back.
"What? You don't kiss?" Tom asked. He looked aroused, amused, but not angry.
Harry tried to come up with something that would dissuade Tom. "I can't do this. I have a girlfriend."
"So do I," Tom replied. His hand slid down to clasp Harry's cock, and began stroking. Harry groaned, responding even though he didn't want to.
"Please, you don't want to do this."
"It's okay, relax." Tom nibbled at Harry's collarbone, moving lower.
Harry stifled a moan, trying to think of something, anything, that would dissuade Tom. "I...I have a social disease!" he said. He hoped that was the right term. He suspected soldiers typically used cruder words, but he couldn't remember any of them at the moment. Not with Tom's tongue rasping at his nipple, Tom's hand warm and strong around his cock.
"You're such a liar. Have you even had sex before, babyface?"
Harry trembled as Tom's mouth moved down. A tongue probed his navel, drifted down...and Harry's cock was suddenly engulfed in a hot, wet mouth. He whimpered, shaking with arousal.
Once, this had been the stuff of his fantasies. Before Tom had started dating B'Elanna. Harry's second best friend, B'Elanna. "No, don't," Harry pleaded. The mouth left his cock, and Harry groaned with both relief, and, truth be told, no little amount of visceral disappointment. His body was in conflict with his mind. He lay there panting, dizzy with the rush of hormones, trying to get control of himself.
"I'm not going to stop until you come," Tom announced, and began licking and sucking at Harry's balls.
Harry gave a choked cry. It was almost too much to take. It had been way too long. During the Hirogen occupation, he hadn't had the time or inclination even to jerk off, but his body was now making its neglected needs known. He moaned, tossing his head back and forth, trying to resist the deliciously mounting tension. B'Elanna, he thought. She would be so hurt. And Tom...he would never do this, if not for the neural interface. Harry tried to keep his focus on his friends, and not on what Tom's mouth was doing. With his hands bound, there wasn't much he could do to resist, but he tried, attempting to draw up his knees and turn away.
Tom easily held him in place. "Why are you fighting it? You love it," Tom said. He sucked the head of Harry's cock into his mouth, stroking the shaft with one hand and gently rolling his balls with the other.
Harry cried out. He'd dreamed of this, but not like this. Never like this.
He was going to come. There was no avoiding it. He tried anyway, shaking with the effort to hold still, not thrust into that welcoming mouth, not give in to the rising tide of ecstasy that threatened to sweep him away. This wasn't right. Tom would hate him if he remembered it. B'Elanna would kill them both if she found out, and rightfully so. But Tom was insistent, irresistible, his tongue finding all Harry's sensitive spots, his mouth all tantalizing heat and suction. "Stop, I'm going to come," Harry begged. He thought that might prompt Tom to pull away. For some reason it seemed like less of a betrayal, to come in Tom's hand instead of his mouth. But Tom didn't pull away. He only seemed encouraged. Harry resisted as long as he could, but it ended as he knew it must. He shuddered helplessly as his orgasm was pulled from him, slow and relentless and overwhelming. The long, hard spurts seemed to go on forever, leaving Harry empty of everything except guilt and humiliation.
Tom raised his head, grinning smugly and licking his lips. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.
Harry didn't answer. Tears were leaking out of his eyes, and Tom noticed. "Oh, don't tell me you're one of those religious types."
"Please stop. Don't do this to B—....your girlfriend," Harry said, correcting himself before he said "B'Elanna."
It was the wrong thing to say. Tom's face darkened. "Brigitte is screwing a Nazi," he growled. "She's pregnant by him, the bitch."
"No, she's not," Harry protested, despite himself. "Tom, no—"
"And I told you, it's Bobby." Tom grabbed Harry and roughly shoved him into a prone position. All tenderness was gone as he forced himself inside Harry, biting savagely at Harry's shoulder. He was muttering something about Brigitte being a whore.
Harry wondered if Brigitte was a holocharacter...or someone he knew. Maybe even B'Elanna. He'd been so worried about people being killed in the hunt. He hadn't thought about...other violations. He should have found some way to end this sooner, not let it go on for weeks.
Harry struggled only briefly, then forced himself to lie quietly. He wasn't going to escape. Not without hurting Tom more than he was willing to. Not to mention himself. Tom still had the gun somewhere. Part of Harry even welcomed the pain. It was only what he deserved. It didn't even hurt that much, compared to the injuries the Hirogen had inflicted over the weeks.
Tom didn't last long. After only a few thrusts, he came with a yell. It seemed to calm him. "Sorry," he panted. "Didn't mean to be so rough." He planted a kiss on the back of Harry's neck. "I hate the goddamned Nazis and this goddamned war." He got up, pulled his clothing together, and started gathering his equipment.
Tom tied Harry's feet together with a strip cut from Harry's undershirt. Then he slightly loosened the binding on Harry's wrists. "You'll be able to work yourself free. I have to find my unit." He left.
Eventually, Harry was able to get his wrists free. It was, he noted, a tourniquet strap that had been used to bind him. From a first aid kid, no doubt. Hopefully Tom wouldn't need it in battle. Battle...Harry hastily dressed. He had to get to the bridge.
The Hirogen had been vanquished, but the damage they'd done to Voyager was incredible. Harry felt some guilt about that. Many of the modifications had been his work. Coerced though it was, he couldn't help feeling responsible. He was spending every waking moment trying to undo the damage.
But now there was a staff meeting, pulling him from the repairs he was working on. He headed for the turbolift, glad it was working now. For awhile, they'd had to crawl through the Jefferies tubes to get between decks. He pulled out a padd and started logging the work he'd just completed into the central database. There was so much damage that just keeping track of all the repairs was big project.
The turbolift arrived and he stepped into it. "Bridge," he ordered, still looking at his padd.
"Harry."
Startled, he looked up. Tom was standing there. Harry had been so absorbed that he hadn't even realized there was someone already in the turbolift.
"Tom," Harry managed. He had seen Tom only in passing since Sainte Claire. They'd all been so busy.
"You look like crap, Harry." Tom's warm smile was fading into concern.
"Thanks. Thanks a lot." Harry had cleaned himself up as best he could, with less than ideal results. Washing off the grease and dirt only made the bruises more evident.
Tom looked wonderful, as always. Healthy, relaxed, and ridiculously handsome.
"You're white as a ghost," Tom said. His gaze was open and affectionate, with just a tinge of puzzlement.
"Just tired." He couldn't meet Tom's eyes.
"Halt turbolift," Tom said. "Harry, you sure you're all right? Maybe you should go to sickbay. It's back online, you know."
"Resume turbolift," Harry ordered. "I'm fine. We're going to be late."
Clearly, Tom didn't remember a thing. Harry was profoundly grateful.
"Dismissed."
The senior staff got up, heading out the briefing room door. Harry almost made it.
"Mr. Kim." The captain's voice stopped him.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Report to sickbay."
"But—"
"Now, Ensign. The remaining repairs can wait."
"Yes, Captain."
Harry obediently headed for sickbay. He'd been able to put Tom off, but there was no putting off the captain. Knowing her, she would check with the Doctor to make sure Harry obeyed her command.
Well, maybe this would work out for the best. Tom had been spending a lot of time on sickbay duty, but he had a bridge shift now. Harry wouldn't have to worry about him asking any awkward questions.
"It's about time," the Doctor said when Harry entered Sickbay. "You are the last member of the crew to report for medical examination." He gestured at the nearest bio-bed. "A human doctor might take it personally."
"I've been working," Harry muttered, sitting carefully on the edge of the indicated bio-bed.
"Lie down, Ensign," the Doctor said.
Oh, great. This was going to be an in-depth exam. Harry lay down.
"Your health is at least as important as the health of the ship. If you spent half the time caring for your body as you do running diagnostics..." Harry had heard this lecture before, and tuned it out. Until he suddenly realized the Doctor had stopped talking.
"Mr. Kim," the EMH finally said. His voice was very gentle. "Did the Hirogen do this to you?"
"What?" Harry asked. Though he knew.
"The sexual assault."
Harry hesitated. Maybe he should blame the Hirogen. No, the Doctor might decide to collect forensic evidence then. If only out of curiosity. "I was not sexually assaulted," he said instead. "A lot of other assaults, but not...that."
"You're saying these injuries are the result of a consensual encounter?" The Doctor plainly did not believe it.
"Yes."
"I see. Well, I'm sure the captain will be interested to know what you were spending your time doing, while the rest of us were fighting the Hirogen."
Harry recognized the bluff, and called it. "What I do on my own time is my business, Doctor. You have no right to notify the captain."
The Doctor tried another tack. "Mr. Kim...Harry. The window to collect usable forensic evidence is short. Let me do that, and it will preserve your right to press charges later, should you—"
"No." Harry was sure on that. There was no way he would be pressing charges. Tom didn't remember anything, and it was best for all involved that it remain that way.
The Doctor looked at him in silence. Finally, he just said, "Very well, if you're sure," and started up the regenerator.
There were some advantages to a holographic doctor, instead of a human one, Harry mused. A human doctor wouldn't have been able to resist running a DNA analysis, to find out who his assailant had been. The EMH would stick to his privacy protocols. After giving Harry a lecture on the proper uses of the rectum, it would never be mentioned again.