Thomas Eugene Paris stood quietly at attention next to his father. He had been standing that way for an hour and a half already but did not dare to make a sound or even twitch a muscle in complaint. He continued to listen stone faced as person after person stood up to praise his brave, and courageous friend. He closed his eyes, hearing again the utter fury in his father's angry voice, yelling with closed fists, "It should have been our son. It would have been Tom. And the only reason it's not our son is because HE LIED."

His mother had tried to intervene at this point, but his father had overridden her. "No, Julia! I am the head of this household. My decision is made up. It's our duty, and his, to go to the ceremony tomorrow. But that's it! Immediately after that, he's leaving. We're damned lucky that the Vulcans are still willing to let him continue in the program after this stunt."

So, here he was, standing silently stoic at attention. If he focused on his friend he could ignore all the not so hidden frowning glances being aimed his way. He shivered uncontrollably. Maybe being in a program full of Vulcans wouldn't be so bad after all. Anything to get away from the overwhelming wash of emotion being projected at him from all sides. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But he didn't dare. He wanted it all to go away. To go back in time. To do it over. To have just told the truth.

The first duty is to the truth. How often had he heard those words? And at the first real test, he had failed. He had lied. His father was right. He was lucky that he was getting to continue in the Vulcan program. Staring over his head at the wall this morning, his father had made his final point. His father had told him that he was getting a second chance to start over. Not many people got second chances. Only a fool would throw it away. Tom had understood. He made a silent vow to himself. He would not fail again.

Tom blinked as the final speech was made. Then it was time. He quietly gathered up every ounce of courage he possessed. Moving forward he picked up a handful of dirt. Looking down he watched as the casket lid was placed over the top of his best friend's body.

Tom closed his eyes as he uncontrollably took a step back. He remembered again the uniformed Ensign coming up to him and Charlie. Remembered as she looked between them, smiled at them both and said questioningly, "Tom Paris?" Saw again, Charlie, wearing Tom's outfit swaggering forward, saying confidently, "That's me." Recalled with total clarity, as she said, "Something has come up. I was asked to meet you here instead of your father. We're on a tight schedule let's go." Saw them walking off together.

Remembering, Tom felt anger toward himself again. He had wanted to be 'normal' for once. So, he had said nothing as his friend walked away with the Ensign. Had taken Charlie's place, with the poor unassuming Aunt who'd never met Charlie before.

And now, Charlie was dead. Because it hadn't been a real Ensign. It had been a terrorist, impersonating a Starfleet Ensign.

Tom took in a desperately needed breath of air, moved forward once more. Quietly, he sprinkled the dirt in his hand over the coffin's lid. "Goodbye, Charlie." he said quietly. "You were my best friend. I'll never forget you."

As he continued to look down at his seven year old best friend's coffin, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Then five year old Thomas Eugene Paris straightened up and stiffened his spine. He turned on his heel and, not looking back, walked quietly away.