If you've not read the previous chapters, you probablt should. :) You can find them on the Parisite page or my page at http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/4592/ Please tell me what you think!!! - jess * * * * * "I've seen the storm clouds in your past, but rest assured 'cause you are safe at home at last. I rescued you, you rescued me, and we're right where we should be when we're together."(9) IX. I shifted my position for what seemed like the hundred and fifth time. The biobed had seemed comfortable enough when Harry and Kes had first dragged me in here - when? It had to've been at least two days ago. Time drags incredibly slowly in Sickbay - but now it felt hard as a rock underneath my sore back. "For the last time, Mister Paris, hold still," the Doctor warned as he scanned the readout on the bed. I frowned. "I'm trying," I said with exaggerated slowness. "Can I go now?" I tossed in just to annoy him. I knew there was no way he'd let me go, but I was going crazy being trapped in here, and if I was going to go crazy, well, I may as well drive the Doc nuts, too. To my surprise, he didn't even look up from the panel but said, "If you feel like it, Lieutenant." My eyebrows raised in shock. I was free? Yes!! I swung my legs over the side and pushed myself off the bed, homeward bound. I was in for a rude awakening, though, as my legs refused to support me and I went crashing to the floor. "O-h-h," I groaned, blinking away the spots dancing before my eyes. "You knew," I accused the Doctor as he finally looked up from the screen. "You knew that would happen." The Doctor sighed like a man who had been through much. "Lieutenant," he said wryly, and I winced involuntarily. "You have been a frequent enough visitor in Sickbay that detaining you is not something I enjoy. Would you have believed me had I told you what would happen should you choose to leave before I certified you fit to return to active duty?" My head was swimming. "What?" "Come on, Lieutenant," the Doctor said in a kind voice. He came around to help me up, offering his hand in an apologetic way, but I brushed his offer of help away. "I can do fine on my own," I snapped brusquely, struggling to stand. To my horror I discovered my legs refused to support my weight. Frightened, I looked at the Doc for an explanation. He extended his hand again, an almost sad expression on his face, and this time I accepted it. He grasped one of my hands in his own and slid the other underneath my arms, hauling me up carefully and helping me back onto the biobed. I pushed down the fear that was threatening to overwhelm my senses and looked at the Doc expectantly, waiting - praying - for him to say something reassuring. "We're going to have to operate, Tom." My heart clenched in fear. I must have heard him wrong. Operations were only for serious cases, when the regenerator and everything else failed. "What?" "It's the only alternative, unless you'd rather spend one week a month in Sickbay." The Doctor's grim expression softened as he offered hesitantly, "The chances of success are good." A swell of hysteria crowded at the back of my throat, but I swallowed firmly and managed to ask, "The chances? What chances? What are we talking about here, Doc?" I couldn't keep the tinge of pained hysteria out of my voice any longer. "Life and death? If I'll walk? Be rid of the pain? What, Doc?" The Doctor looked down at the padd he held in his hands, silent. "Tell me," I pleaded. "Please." I had to know. "You're my friend." He looked up, sadness evident in his dark eyes. "I don't know yet, Tom." I swallowed a moan and laid my head back on the bed, fighting to control the tears. Never walk? Never pilot again? I closed my eyes at the thought and steeled my resolve. Even if I couldn't be fully healed, if something happened, I would continue to live and enjoy life. I *had* to. Earlier in my life, I would have gone into something as risky as this without batting an eyelash. As far as the rest of the galaxy and I were concerned, I might be better off dead. But here on Voyager, I'd realized I had something to live for. Friends, a position, someone I loved and who loved me in return. "Mister Paris....you do have a choice." Doc paused, then plunged ahead. "Your other option is regular visits to Sickbay, and possibly being confined to a repulsor chair. You would, however, be monitored constantly, and may be unfit to assume a duty station." I felt the Doc's hand on my arm, and I opened my eyes to regard him with an inquisitive but hopeless stare. "Mister Paris....Tom. I assure you, whatever the outcome, you won't have to go through it alone." This time the tight feeling in my chest was from mingled sadness and love, rather than hysteria. It might cost me my life to realize how much my friends - even the EMH - cared for me. "Thanks, Doc," I whispered, truly touched. A small smile crossed his face, and to me he'd never seemed more human than at that moment. "Tom?" B'Elanna Torres poked her dark head in the corner, throwing the Doctor an inquiring look. Doc sighed loudly, but nodded her to come in. "Tom, Harry and I were wondering if you're hungry - if you want to come have dinner with us and Kes." The Doctor turned away. I shook my head. "I can't." Her smile turned sympathetic. "Not hungry?" "No, B'Elanna," I whispered, bravado failing me now that the full implications had sunk in, "I *can't*." Her grip on my hand tightened as Doc turned around and addressed her briskly. "Lieutenant, I'm afraid it is impossible for Mister Paris to leave Sickbay." "And why is that, Doctor?" A new voice asked. My heart plunged when I recognized the Captain's voice. The Doctor turned to face the new arrival. "Because, Captain," he said, his calm voice never wavering, "it has become necessary to perform surgery on Lieutenant Paris. I would say the odds are good," he added with false cheerfulness. With a last glance in my direction, he motioned for the Captain to precede him into his office. "Tom," B'Elanna whispered, "I'm so sorry." "Don't be, Lann," I returned softly. "It won't be that bad." But she knew as well as I the implications. She shook her head, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "It's my fault," she said hopelessly. I was shocked. Her fault? "B'Elanna, it's not your fault," I assured. She shook her dark head fiercely. "It is! Maybe if I'd run faster - or fought instead of run. If I'd done something, *anything*, different...." Her voice trailed off and choking sobs forced their way past her throat into the stillness of the room. "B'Elanna...." My own voice caught in a choke. How could she blame herself? "Shhh," I soothed. "Shhh, B'Elanna." I reached up to stroke her hair, her head resting gently on my chest. "It's okay." I looked up helplessly and my eyes locked with Kathryn Janeway's. She was standing in the door of Doc's office, watching us with a look of sadness on her face. "Tom, I'm sorry," her gravelly voice quiet. "I'm sorry too, Lieutenant." Three pairs of eyes snapped up to stare at Commander Chakotay as he entered. * * * * * -- ------------------------------------------------------------------ Jessica Ferroni Evenstar17@hotmail.com, jferroni@shilohcc.com I think I need an avacado. Cheeeeeile!!!!