by Emma Woodhouse

Disclaimer: All belongs to Paramount. All hail Paramount. All hail, hail.

A note about Rating: This is the first story I've ever posted that wasn't NC-17. Mark your calendars, and tell your grandchildren - yes, I was THERE, that famous day when "Emma Woodhouse" posted an R rated story. . . But seriously folks, R is for language and, well, the general Situation.

Introduction: This strange little story fits into my Tom-n-Harry timeline, occurring sometime after 'Unforgettable' third seasonish. That means, for you newcomers, that Tom and Harry are an Established Couple. If that bothers you, oh well.

---

Ensign Harry Kim sat on a log outside the cabin, reminding himself that he was a Star Fleet officer, and that Weird was part of the job. Still, he couldn't help wishing that, just once, he could take part in a totally routine and boring away mission.

Until today, everything had gone just like clockwork, and the away team, in the guise of traders from beyond the mountains, had traded bolts of cloth and salted fish, and now had a satisfyingly weighty pouch of the pretty crystals, the kind that came in handy for powering a starship.

Even the unusual and increasing testiness of the away team commander had not interfered with the mission. But his orders today had been downright illogical, and Harry wished he knew what was going on.

The flap over the cabin door was lifted, and Tom Paris came out into the afternoon sunshine, staring at the displays on the medical tricorder.

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly. "What have you got?"

Tom sat down beside him. "Hey, give me a break, Harry, I just got these readings. But I'll tell you one thing." He turned to his friend, and Harry could see how worried he was. "Whatever's wrong with him is getting worse."

"And he's sedated?" Tom nodded. "On his orders. But why the hell he ordered me to keep him sedated for the next three days - " He shook his head, and went back to studying the tricorder.

Harry scooted closer, thinking how good Tom looked in their Iron Age itinerant traveler outfits. Unbleached goat's wool, formed into Biblical-looking robes - Harry gave an infatuated sigh, and put his arm around Tom. Still studying, Tom leaned back against Harry, smiling slightly.

After a few minutes, Tom said, "What the hell - ?"

"What?"

"This says, 'Enter medical department authorization code' - good thing I'm a certified medical tech, or we'd be up the creek." Tom entered the code into the tricorder, and began to read the information. Harry tried to read over his shoulder, and Tom impatiently elbowed him back.

Finally, Tom whistled, and said in amazement, "I will be dipped in shit!"

"What? What's it say?"

"Harry, do you know that Vulcans consider information about sex to be CLASSIFIED?!"

"Classified? So that's why the code? Hey, wait a minute, this is about SEX?"

"It sure is. This says that Tuvok's condition is something called 'pon farr', meaning he needs some really bad."

Harry was stunned. "A horny Vulcan. I never imagined such a thing. Well, then, I think he's right, Tom - you'd better keep him sedated."

"Yes, but - " Tom studied further. "This is saying that if he doesn't get any, he's going to die."

"Oh, come ON! Wait a minute - you're serious?"

"That's what it says."

"That just seems so - illogical!"

"Well, according to this article, it only happens once every seven years, so I guess the Vulcans think it's logical to space out their illogic like that. Says that mated couples have this mental bond that sends them back to one another in time. Of course, that's assuming they're on the same side of the galaxy."

Harry was thinking deeply. "But then - what about when one of the couple dies? Does that mean the other one dies the next time they hit this condition?"

"Let's see," Tom said, "Pon farr, query, dead spouse." He made an entry into the tricorder and read the response. Then he produced a low whistle.

"What? Come on, what's it say?!"

>"Well, it says pon farr is a guy thing, so only the men can be killed by it."

"Figures," Harry said.

"And - get this, Harry! For widowers whose wives are dead, there's this place in the capital with specially training Vulcan women - "

"A Vulcan WHOREHOUSE?"

"That's what it sounds like."

"Well," Harry said, in dissatisfied tones, "that doesn't help us. If we could get to the Vulcan capital, we wouldn't need to, since Tuvok could get to T'Pel. But since we're in the Delta Quadrant, on this little backwater planet, and the ship's not supposed to be back for four days, what are our options?"

Tom thought for a minute. "You suppose the village has a brothel?"

Harry was shocked. "These tiny little people? Tom, he'd KILL them!"

"I suppose you're right."

They seemed to have come full circle.

"So," Harry asked.

"What do we do?"

There was a long pause, and Harry could see that Tom was thinking furiously. Finally, Tom sighed and said, "I suppose I could go in there - "

"Tom!"

"Well," Tom said irritably, "you got a better idea?"

Harry didn't. Still, he protested. "What makes this your problem?"

"The alternative makes it my problem," Tom told him. "If you think I intend to go back to Voyager and tell the Captain her best friend is dead and I could have prevented it and didn't, well, think again."

That silenced Harry. He figured he was as loyal to the Captain as the next guy. Unless the next guy happened to be Tom Paris, whose devotion to the skipper who'd pulled him out of prison and given him his life back bordered on the fanatical.

The two young men jumped at the sound from the cabin, something between a moan and a roar. They exchanged an apprehensive glance, and then Tom stood up.

"Stand by with the medical kit," he said with resignation, and then went back into the cabin.

Harry sat outside the cabin, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from inside. He hated this, just hated it. He didn't want Tuvok to die, of course, but the idea of Tom being hurt, and being hurt THIS way, after all he'd been through, was just hard to take.

It also bothered him to think how easily Tom would deliver his body for abuse, as if it were something only to be expected. Harry thought Tom was precious, and he only wished Tom thought so too.


The sun was sinking behind the hills when the sounds gradually diminished, and Tom staggered out of the cabin. "He's asleep now, thank god," Tom said.

Harry jumped up with the medical kit and began cataloging Tom's injuries.

"Hey," Tom said, with a breathless attempt at jauntiness, "that wasn't so bad."

"How can you say that, Tom?" Harry was almost in tears.

"Well, I've been through worse."

"I don't see how it could be much worse that this," Harry said, running a regenerator over the bruises on Tom's back. "Surely none of those guys in New Zealand was a Vulcan."

"True," Tom admitted. "This may be more physically painful. But the difference is that Tuvok isn't TRYING to hurt me."

"I don't see why that makes a difference."

"Well, it does. I can't explain it, but it does. When someone hurts you because they WANT to hurt you - well, it's just worse, that's all." Tom hissed, as the regenerator moved over the teethmarks on his shoulder.

"Sorry."

"That's okay. Next time, I'm going to bite him back."

Finally, Harry was done patching Tom up, and the two men sank down onto the ground. Harry pulled Tom into his arms, and stroked him gently as Tom fell into an exhausted sleep. Harry stayed awake a while longer, watching Tom in the moonlight, thinking how beautiful he was.

---

Several hours later, they were startled awake by a muffled roar. They exchanged glances, and Tom gave a resigned sigh. He got to his feet with a groan, muttered, "Once more into the breech, dear friends - " and went back into the cabin.

Harry curled up into a ball by the fire, with his hands over his ears. He was starting to worry. How dangerous was this?

---

The sky was lightening when Tom came out of the cabin. He was deathly pale. He gasped, "The worst thing about this? I think - I'm starting to like it."

Harry was just in time to catch him as he passed out. When Tom regained consciousness, he was stretched out by the fire with Harry bending over him. "Don't move," Harry told him. "You have some cracked ribs."

"Damn!" Tom said. "Guess maybe I shouldn't have bitten back, huh? That really seemed to get him going." He chuckled weakly, and then gasped at the pain.

"I said, hold still!" Harry snapped. "I've regenerated the ribs, but they're still pretty weak."

"That's the last time I'm going on an away mission without at least a level four regenerator."

Harry stretched out beside Tom, on the side away from the bad ribs, and stroked his friend's cheek. "Get some sleep, Tom," he said softly, and kissed him gently on the lips.

Tom sighed, and closed his eyes.

---

Hours later, the two woke to sounds from the cabin again. Tom started to sit up, and Harry held him down.

"Absolutely not!" he said firmly. "Those ribs are still too weak. Honestly, Tom, you could wind up with a punctured lung or something, and we don't have the equipment to deal with that."

Tom protested. "Look, if you think I'm going to let him die NOW, after all this - !"

"He's not going to die," Harry said. "I guess it's my turn now."

"Harry, no!"

"No? Okay for you, but not for me?"

"Hey, you're not used to it - I don't WANT you to be used to it!"

"Forget it, Tom."

"Look, if I have to pull rank - "

"You'd be wasting your time," Harry said with resolution. "I've already recorded that you are medically unfit for duty. I'm in command of the away team right now."

Tom stared at his determined young friend. He hated to admit that Harry was right.

Harry leaned down and kissed him. "Get some rest," he said softly.

And Harry went into the cabin.

---

The sun was high overhead now, and Tom sat on the log outside the cabin, chewing on some flat native bread that reminded him of a pita.

A small man in yellow-dyed robes came down the path, one of the villagers come to see how the travellers were getting along. Visitors didn't come to these parts too often, and news was always welcome.

He greeted Tom, and Tom answered back, trying to give nondescript answers to the man's questions. He really didn't know anything about the political situation beyond the mountains. But since he and Harry were supposed to be some sort of serfs anyway, perhaps his ignorance wouldn't be considered surprising.

The visitor jumped at the sound of a pained cry from the cabin. He stood up and made as if to go over there, but Tom gestured him back.

"But what - "

"Really. It's okay," Tom said. "The Master - gets like this sometimes. Harry burned his breakfast."

The man frowned. "Oh? He seemed like a good master when you were all in the village."

"Oh, he is, most of the time," Tom assured him, the loyal serf looking on the bright side. "It's just when he drinks, you know?"

The man nodded. "Sorry," he told Tom, and was soon on his way.

Tom sat alone by the fire, feeling a touch of satisfaction at destroying Tuvok's reputation with these people - Tuvok, the drunken serf-beater!

---

About an hour later, Harry staggered out of the cabin, and Tom jumped up to tend to his battered friend.

This time, Tuvok slept for a long time. The young men thought that was a good sign.

"Hey, maybe he's finally slowing down," Tom suggested.

"Maybe it's already over," Harry said hopefully. But then they heard sounds again from the cabin, and they were not at all the sounds of a rational Vulcan. They looked at each other with resignation. Tom stood up.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"My ribs are all better now. It's my turn."

They argued for a few minutes, as the sounds got more vehement, and finally Tom said, "Tell you what - let's both go in."

So they did.

---

Lieutenant Tuvok woke up, surprised to find himself still alive. When Lieutenant Paris had sedated him as ordered, he had expected that to be his last conscious thought. Ever.

But he was definitely alive. Nor had he remained sedated for the interim - he had confused memories, surely the product of some delirium.

Tuvok opened his eyes. He was on the main bed in the rustic cabin, quite naked. Raising his head, he saw that there was a young human male on either side of him. And that they too were naked.

Obviously, Lieutenant Paris had disobeyed orders. Most unsatisfactory.

Tuvok rose silently and dressed in his goat's wool robe. He left the cabin and looked around. He felt better now than he had for a long time, calmer, stronger, more centered.

He had felt the pon farr coming on for months, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, distracting him. It had been his intent to distill a lethal alkaloid from some of the flowers in the airponics bay, simple enough if one knew how. But obviously he had miscalculated the timing. And once he had realized the time was already upon him, he had assumed that still he would die, merely by being sedated and leaving the condition untreated.

But for some reason, the young humans had interfered. Tuvok wondered why.

---

Tom woke up. Oh god, he hurt all over! Suddenly he sat up, alarmed, and poked Harry.

"What? Ow, leave me alone," Harry said sleepily.

"Harry, wake up! Tuvok's gone."

And now Harry was wide awake too. "Uh-oh," he said, and the two hurriedly scrambled into their robes and dashed out of the cabin.

They skidded to a stop, seeing Tuvok seated on the log beside the fire ring. He looked quite calm, very much himself again.

"Uh, morning, Tuvok," Tom said carefully. "How're - things?"

"You disobeyed my orders," Tuvok said without preliminary.

"Well, not quite," Tom said.

"Explain."

"You were medically unfit, so I took command of the away team," Tom said.

Harry nodded. "That's right. Until I declared Tom medically unfit, and then I was in command."

Tuvok just looked at them both. It was never easy getting straight answers out of humans.

"Why did you do so?" he asked Tom.

"Declare you medically unfit? Because you WERE! Hey, I'm a medical tech, remember? I can read a tricorder."

"And then you apparently took it upon yourselves to interfere with the Vulcan pon farr."

"What do you mean, 'interfere'? We FIXED it."

"No one asked you to 'fix it'."

"So? We did it anyway."

There was a long silence. Finally, Tuvok asked, "Why?"

Tom couldn't believe how dense the guy was being. "Because you were going to DIE!"

"You should have let me die." Tuvok sounded almost agitated.

Tom snorted. "Yeah, right. Just go on back to Voyager, and hand over a dead Security Officer. Jeez, Captain Janeway would have hung me up by the balls!"

Tuvok frowned, and said fastidiously, "Captain Janeway would do no such thing."

"No, you're right. She wouldn't. She'd just give me that Look!"

"What look?"

"You know, the I'm-trying-not-to-blame-you-but-I'm-deeply- deeply-disappointed-though-I-suppose-you-did-the-best-you-could Look. THAT Look." Tom paused, and then added thoughtfully, "And I'd really RATHER be hung up by the balls!"

Harry listened to the debate in silence. He didn't understand Vulcan sensibilities in this matter, but he rather thought that Tom would win this one.

Tom went on, "Hey, you want to die? There's the phaser right over there. Then it's not my fault."

"That would be illogical."

"But having yourself sedated and letting yourself die from an untreated condition, that's not illogical?"

"It's an entirely different matter."

"How is it different?"

"That is something that humans would not understand."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Right. Well, go ahead, put me on report if you want to."

"No," Tuvok replied, "it seems that I must put myself on report."

"Huh? What for?"

"For assaulting two junior officers."

"Hey, wait a minute! Come on, Tuvok, you were out of your head! Look, no one put me on report for kidnapping and assaulting the Captain, now did they?"

"No, they did not."

"Well, there you go, then."

"That was an entirely different case. In Federation law, the accused is identified by DNA print. On the instance you refer to, your DNA was so completely altered that you were in essence someone else. Putting you on report for the deeds of that other being would have been an obvious miscarriage of justice."

Tom was surprised. Oh, so that's how he'd gotten off the hook on that! But he wasn't through yet. "Hey, I've been reading the pon farr files in the medical tricorder. So I know that on Vulcan, pon farr is a reason to dismiss any case up to and including murder."

"True." Tuvok was surprised at what a skilled debater Lieutenant Paris was. "However, pon farr is only a defense in Vulcan law. The issue has never been tested in Federation law. Until now. So it seems I must still be put on report."

Tom was momentarily stumped. But not for long. "Well, that's great, Tuvok!" he angrily exclaimed. "That's just great! So you're saying that you're going to make me and Harry take the stand and testify in open court about how we threw ourselves at you!"

Harry bit his lip, hard. Finally, he gasped, "Oh, Tom, everyone on the ship is going to know what sluts we are!"

He turned and buried his face in his friend's neck. Tom put his arms around Harry and felt his shoulders shaking. He knew that Harry was trying to keep from laughing out loud, but also could see that Tuvok was looking worried - Harry must make a pitiful picture, huddled in Tom's arms. Tom stroked his friend's shiny black hair, and said soothingly, "There, there, Harry. I'll still love you, I don't care what anyone says about you."

Tuvok watched the two young men, baffled. It did appear that there was no way that he could be brought to justice without damaging the reputations of his victims. It was all most perplexing.

His arms still around Harry, Tom said softly, "Look, Tuvok, I really think we should just treat this as a medical issue, don't you? Record it in that classified Vulcan file in the medical database?"

Tuvok said slowly, "Perhaps you're right."

As the away team left the transporter room, Tuvok said, "You gentlemen take the dilithium to Lieutenant Torres for analysis. I will report our return to Captain Janeway."

The two young men in goat's wool nodded, and Tuvok turned to go. But Tom called after him, "Oh, Tuvok?"

Tuvok turned back. "Yes?"

"See you in seven years." And the incorrigible lieutenant winked at him!

---

Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim headed off to Engineering. Tuvok stood in thought for a moment, and then made his way to the Captain's ready room, thinking that he really must see to it that efforts to find a stable wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant were intensified.

---

It was late, and Tom and Harry were in bed. It was wonderful to get back to their own bed, and they snuggled peacefully in each other's arms. They stroked one another gently, too sore and worn out to do anything more strenuous.

Tom was almost asleep when Harry whispered, "Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"I can't stop thinking about that Vulcan whorehouse."

"OW!" Tom glared at Harry. "Knock it off, Harry! It hurts to even THINK about it!"

"Sorry." After a few minutes, Harry whispered in Tom's ear, "Vulcan whorehouse."

Tom moaned and Harry snickered. Tom raised his head and looked into Harry's eyes, saying mournfully, "Be gentle with me, Harry."

And Harry kissed Tom's lips as gently as he knew how.

---

End