Chapter Text
Trapped. Can’t move. Have to escape. Run.
His hand fumbled along the underside of the capsule, grasping desperately for a handle he somehow remembered was there. When his fingers finally curled around it he pulled the leaver and the seal broke with a gaseous diffusion. He scrambled to his feet and dragged himself a few metres before pain started to pulse inside his head. He screamed out, “Seven! Help me.” Before the darkness overtook him.
When Seven of Nine found him he was barely alive. She picked him up and dragged him back to his stasis chamber.
Tom Paris lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. It had been a week since they had passed through the deadly nebula and his shift started in twenty minutes. He was already dressed but he found that he couldn’t force himself to stand. He just didn’t care anymore. If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t cared in a long time but it was all suddenly too much. A part of him did worry about the consequences of simply deciding not to show up to his duty-shift but that worry was much smaller than his desire to never move again. Although the thought had occurred to him, he didn’t exactly want to die or anything, nothing so drastic and he didn’t want to leave Voyager. No. It was so much more strange than that. He simply wanted to stop; to stop moving, to stop working, to simply stop being Tom Paris. Tom Paris was too much. Tom Paris smiled too much, joked too much, laughed too much. Tom Paris was the joker, the fool, the friend. He didn’t want to be those things anymore, it was too much. Tom Paris didn’t want to be Tom Paris anymore. The twenty minutes passed and he still lay on the bed, another ten minutes passed before he finally heaved himself off the surface and dragged himself to the bridge. The crew gave him eyes but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t unusual for Tom Paris to be a little late, but this was more than normal yet not too much beyond it to be concerning. He took his station and stared blankly down at the console. Tom contemplated steering the ship into the nearby moon, now that would be a way to stop being Tom Paris.
Darkness. His small fists colliding with the door. Tears streaming down his face.
“Daddy! Daddy! Let me out!” He sobbed and screamed. There was no reply. He slid down into the darkness and wrapped his arms around himself. He rocked back and forth. He tried to think of good things, of space and of gallant heroes but the darkness seeped into his every thought.
“Please.” He whispered, “Please Daddy. I’ll be good.” Time passed and no one came to release him. His mind slipped away, no more closet, no more darkness. More time passed and suddenly it all jumped back into focus. He jumped to his feet and started screaming. “Let me out let me out let me out!” He bashed his fists into the door, over and over again, his hands started to bleed but he kept battering the door. His breath caught in his throat as he breathed heavier and heavier. He couldn’t breathe. He was hyperventilating. “Help.” He mumbled as he gasped for air and slowly slipped down to the ground and a different kind of darkness found him.
Light suddenly burst into view as the door opened. A man stood over the small boy who sat in a pool of his own refuse; blood mixed with urine and feces. The older man shook his head. “I’m ashamed to call you my son.” The man grumbled as he began to walk away, leaving the door ajar. Seeing his opportunity, the boy jutted forwards trying to run, to escape.
Tom's eyes suddenly burst open and he was back on Voyager. Awake.
“Tom are you feeling alright?” Harry Kim questioned, his eyes dripping with concern.
Tom was staring blankly at his food tray, a piece of some alien fruit hanging off his fork, “What?” he asked, looking up and snapping out of his trance.
“I asked if you’re feeling alright.” he repeated.
Tom gave Harry something like a smile, “Of course I’m okay, why do you ask?
The dark circles under Tom’s eyes suddenly became more apparent to the ensign and he shook his head, “You just seem off lately.”
Tom’s face almost broke character, “What do you mean? I’m hunky-dory. Same as always.”
Harry wanted to press further but he didn’t know what else to say so he dropped the subject as fast as he had broached it.
When Seven of Nine entered the cargo bay the lights automatically snapped on as she continued into the room, unfazed, typing at her PADD. She only stopped when she saw the man sitting on the floor with his back against a wall, one leg straight and the other bent, his eyes closed.
“Lieutenant, what are you doing here?”
“Resting.” He answered, his eyes remaining closed.
“Have you been prevented from accessing your quarters?”
His eyes slowly opened, “Am I in your way?”
“Not exactly, but your presence is not ideal. Are you not needed elsewhere?”
“I’m supposed to be cleaning out the plasma manifolds.”
“Then should you not be attending to that duty now?”
“Probably.”
Seven took a step forwards, “I do not understand.”
He stood up, “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“Lieutenant Paris?”
Tom walked out of the cargo bay, without looking back.
When Tom Paris reported for his shift in the Medical Bay the Doctor was quick to fill his arms with an array of PADDs and other medical equipment for him to get started on. Time slipped slowly out of Tom’s hands and soon he was dozing while remaining seated. When the Doctor came to check up on him he found the Lieutenant making small concerning sounds.
"Wake up Mr. Paris." the Doctor gently shook the man awake. His arms flailed out as he jumped to his feet. The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he thought to run a medical tricorder analysis on him.
He waved the small metal device in the air around the man, “Mr Paris, it seems as though your norepinephrine, dopamine and serotonin levels are abnormally low.”
Paris swatted at the Doctor’s hand, “And?”
He sighed, “And I would like to figure out the cause, it could be serious.”
The dreams had started up again after passing through the nebula and Paris found that he was once again haunted by his childhood but he couldn't let anyone know that fact.
"I'm fine." Paris insisted.
"I'll remind you Mr. Paris that only a week ago you were in long term stasis. You could be suffering from after affects of that or perhaps even something related to the nebula we passed through."
"I feel fine. My shift is over. I'm leaving."
"Mr. Paris!" The Doctor called after Tom but was prevented from following further than the door, his program temporarily limited to the confines of the Medical Bay since he wasn't wearing his mobile emitter.
The Doctor shook his head as he tapped his communicator, "Doctor to the Captain. I may have a problem."