SUMMARY: Harry finds himself in a special moment, reflecting on one of the most 
significant moments
                        of his past.


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"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wonder where that thought came from, and then I realize - that moment was the 
major crossroad in my life that has led me here, to this perfect moment.

I sit here, cradling my best friend's new baby on my propped up legs.  Little 
bottom, coiled up chubby little legs rest on my belly.  She's finally fallen 
asleep; guess I've passed her test.  She knows she's free to take advantage of 
me with impunity now.  I knew it before she was ever born.

I'm glad they agreed to scrap our dinner plans and take a nap instead.   *smile*  
They look like hell, ha!  When I offer to keep my date with this sweet thing 
while they catch a few winks, they look dubious.  They hover when anybody holds 
her, even the Captain- like someone's gonna refuse to give her back.  

Would I mind, they ask?  Huh!  I can't help smiling, thinking about their mock 
insult when I tell 'em I can *always* have dinner with them...and lunch, and 
most breakfasts, and after seven years, face it - it's no great thrill anymore, 
compared to an evening with a new woman.

And they let me.  Just like that.  They know I know where everything is; I 
helped them rearrange the place for her.  They laughed their - um, butts - off 
at me when I came across the breast milk in the portable cooler and blushed.  
Hey, who could blame a guy?  C'mon!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know where that response came from, but it felt right the moment it left 
my mouth.  Solid.  Like snap-locking that energy cartridge into a phaser rifle.  
Final, and totally right.

And absolutely the last response anyone would have expected out of the 'real' me 
at that time.  Including me!  *slow head shake*  

He had warning buoys posted all around him - like gravitic mines.  Having been 
'educated' about Paris by officers as lofty as Cmdr. Cavit and Dr. Fitzgerald, I 
was potentially making things difficult for myself on my first ship-out.  I know 
they were only looking out for me - they had my profile, knew I was pretty 
sheltered, and so clean I squeaked.  They had my best interests at heart...

But Tom called me Ensign Eager.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know.  Maybe we would have been great friends in time anyway, without 
that one moment - Tom eventually realized he's worthy of friendship, and I'm 
pretty easy-going with mine.  But how different a lot of things may have been.  

Would he have ever felt comfortable enough to break into my quarters in the 
middle of the night and invite me to Sandrine's?  It was definitely an 
'invitation only' kinda place in the beginning - not unlike Tom himself.  And 
I'm not so sure I would have survived my disappointment (what an 
understatement!) when Telek and the micro-wormhole turned out to be a time-
warped bust.   Tom had seen that it was killing me, and spent the next two weeks 
forcing me out of my quarters with fabricated emergencies, each one more 
ludicrous than the one before.  When I got to thinking how much time and trouble 
he was expending to 'babysit' me...well, I grew a little, recaptured my sense of 
duty to Voyager, and strengthened my sense of place here.   

His efforts must have worked - when I was 'returned' to Earth and Libby, I 
couldn't believe the need I felt to set things 'right' (if there is any such 
thing), the urgency to get back to this place where I had cried a river only 
weeks before.   A river Tom pulled me from, because I was his friend.

And, oh, man, the Akritirian prison...I'm positive that Tom would have always 
stopped that gang from making me their new toy, if for no other reason than 
because we were shipmates.   That's just the kind of guy he is, and no slouch at 
pulling off a good con job.  

But without the bond of that one moment, that first day, before the 
Caretaker...would I have killed him?  I don't know.  I'm honestly not certain I 
wouldn't have.

I just...I don't know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, who's the babysitter now, eh?  Things come full circle, more or less.  You 
really do get what you give, in the long run.

Here...if I swaddle the lap blanket around her...like so...maybe I'll stop 
tweaking these toes, and marveling at how tiny her forearm is, compared to the 
width of my hand here...

*smile*  She looks like a burrito.  Or a leota root dumpling.  *frown*  Ugh, no, 
definitely the burrito.  Tom would prefer the burrito analogy.  I'll have to 
show them when they wake up.  

B'Elanna will pretend to be annoyed that Uncle Harry's been having a laugh at 
her helpless child's expense.  Tom, in his inimitable frankness, will make the 
comparison between refried beans and what's normally under her little wrap.  
Perennially.  B'Elanna will crack him one on the head with the corner of her 
data padd...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*leaning forward, inhaling deeply*  How can anyone have hair this soft, and 
smell so good?

I was right; I don't need anyone to choose for me.

I think I did a damn fine job choosing this time around.

=/\=   END   =/\=