Changes

It had started on an away mission that had been long, dull and boring. Voyager had come into a solar system that had several beautiful, lush, green, viable planets containing much needed materials. These planets were veritable paradises of water, trees, grass; a joy for a gathering mission.

And then there was one rock. One lifeless hulk that had minerals and ores that they also needed. It had a thin atmosphere with just enough oxygen for them to survive. It was closer to the sun in this system than Earth was to hers. Those two qualities, plus the arid conditions created a bleak stay for that team; no water, no vegetation and no indigenous life. The terrain was rough: extinguished volcanoes, black pumice sand, deeply gouged ravines, all suggesting some massive tectonic upheaval centuries ago. The team going there would get water, breathing apparatus, protective clothing and climbing gear as the planet was laced with labyrinths of tunnels and caves, and a temporary structure for protection from the elements. When they were going through the briefing on the planets, Tom asked why they couldn't use the shuttle instead of a shelter. The Captain flipped on a view screen and Tom saw the whirling wind throwing the black sand everywhere. He understood immediately. To open and close the doors of the shuttle in that environment would allow sand in, which would get into the systems and possibly cause major problems.

Where people were hoping to get assigned to one of the other planets, everyone was just as fervently hoping they didn't get this one. And when the away teams were posted, Tom had hung his head in abject misery. He and Chakotay had gotten the lifeless hulk.

While Voyager dropped off the teams on various planets and then made her way back around to pick them up like some mother hen gathering her chicks; Tom and Chakotay were sent ahead in a shuttle. The mining would take longer. All they had to do, Janeway explained, was mark the deposits closest to the surface so Voyager could beam out what they needed. Underground transportation was a touchy thing, and they had to set markers that encompassed the richest deposits of ores and minerals. There were other minerals on the surface or close to it that they could use the drilling equipment to get to and store until Voyager returned for them.

Tom and Harry sat in Sandrine's the night before Tom and Chakotay were to leave. Tom cupped the beer mug in his hands, staring forlornly into it. "Why me, Harry? What did I do to piss the Captain off this time?"

"Tom, the Captain explained it to you. The surface of that planet isn't very hospitable. There will be high winds, thermal pockets and some tricky flying. She didn't pick you to punish you," he explained, taking a drink off his own beer. "She did it because you're the best pilot she's got."

"Then why did she send the Commander with me. She could have sent someone a little more friendly to make up for the rotten job," Tom said, honestly considering pouting. "I mean why not Sue or Megan or...shit...anyone but Chakotay."

Harry chuckled.

"Oh that's right, laugh at me. Very funny, Harry. Ha Ha. You get some Garden of Eden and I get purgatory with the devil himself as my only companion for two weeks. Two whole fucking weeks. No water, no trees, no nooky and only Chakotay's disapproving glare to look forward to."

"I feel for you, buddy. I really do," Harry said, patting Tom on the shoulder in consolation.

"Oh fuck you, Harry. I hope you get a sunburn."

The next morning, Tom slowed to a walk just before he entered the shuttle bay. Just his luck to have overslept that morning. When he entered the bay, Chakotay already had the preflight started.

"Nice of you to show up, Lieutenant," Chakotay said, sparing Tom a momentary dissaproving glance.

"Uh, sorry, Commander. I forgot to move my alarm up," Tom said, moving across the gray decking to drop his duffle by the hatch and then to where Chakotay stood beside the shuttle.

Chakotay just nodded as Tom came up beside him and continued to do the preflight check. His continued refusal to look at Tom, convinced Tom it was going to be a long, long, long two weeks.

"Where are we at, Commander?" he asked, trying to let the incident go and get this mission off on the right foot.

"I've got this. Why don't you stow your gear and double check the equipment stored in the cargo bay."

"Yes, sir," Tom said, turning to the hatch on the shuttle, grabbing his duffle and going inside.

Once he was in the storage bay on the shuttle, and well out of Chakotay's hearing; he started in on himself as he checked the moorings for the mining equipment and stores they were taking with them.

"Good job, Paris. You're stuck with Mr. Analy Retentive for two weeks and the first thing you do to start off this auspicious occasion is show up fifteen minutes late."

He tightened one of the straps on the main drilling head. That piece weighed quite a bit and he wanted to make sure it wouldn't shift if something went wrong on the flight. He came across Chakotay's possessions and wondered what he had brought for entertainment. Tom himself had brought a few padds with reports he needed to finish up, a deck of cards and a couple more padds with some literature he had downloaded off the computer on Voyager.

He had just finished checking the equipment when he looked up and saw Chakotay standing at the doorway to the cargo bay. His look was impressively neutral. Tom could have sworn that unless he had been standing in there, he would think the Commander was staring at an empty room.

"Everything is ready to go here, Commander. I tightened a few things up, but unless we crash, this stuff should be good."

"I would hope so, Lieutenant, because that's our reason for this mission and all of our supplies for it. Without them we will be wasting a lot of time or dying pretty slowly," Chakotay said in a tone that was just a shade above snide, and despite Tom's hopes to at least clear Voyager before they started snipping at each other, it got him riled.

"Well, considering I'll be flying, Commander, I don't think you have anything to worry about," Tom replied, with a smirk that conveyed that he was a better pilot than Chakotay.

"It isn't your piloting that worries me, Lieutenant. It's what trouble you'll stir up once we get there. The Spirits know your record regarding problem free away missions is less than exemplary."

"It's a lifeless rock, Commander, exactly what kind of trouble do you think I can I get into down there?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Lieutenant," Chakotay said as he turned to leave the cargo bay. "Come on, let's finish the internal checklist and get going. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish."

Tom bit off several rude remarks, as he stowed his own duffle.

"As if I'm looking forward to two weeks of sun and fun with you," he griped quietly. He released the strap holding Chakotay's gear to put his with it. However, he forgot how much pressure he had put on it, and when it came loose, Chakotay's satchel fell and hit the deck, and as the standard Paris luck would have it, the Commander's suitcase came open and the contents spilled on the floor.

"Oh, shit," Tom moaned, as he looked down at Chakotay's uniforms and other clothing scattered across the deck. His first impulse was just to shove it back in and restow it, but since it was only him and Chakotay, and considering how everything looked so neatly folded, he figured the Commander would know it was him. And knowing how badly their relationship was now, Chakotay just might think Tom had gone through his stuff on purpose. Tom knelt down and started to organize what had fallen out.

"Commander," he called.

"What is the hold up, Paris?" Chakotay called, his voice moving towards the rear of the shuttle, accented by a staccato beat of heals on the shuttle floor.

Tom winced, but called out, "Um, I accidentally spilled your suitcase." He started to pick up the clothing and set it in neat piles. He picked up a uniform top and uncovered Chakotay's medicine bundle.

"You what?" Chakotay asked, striding up to where Tom knelt.

"Look, I just released the tie down and your suitcase dropped to the deck and spilled open. It wasn't anything personal," Tom said, as he picked up the next article of clothing his hand came in contact with. He looked down to fold the piece of clothing and realized it was Chakotay's boxers. He felt his face flush, as he stared at the article of clothing.

Well, I guess I owe some people some money, he thought, as he stared at the midnight blue boxers. I would have sworn he was a brief's man myself. Tom, who had had his moments of indulgence, recognized silk when he felt it. Not exactly what you call Starfleet issue undies at that. He looked over at Chakotay who had been opening his medicine bundle.

Chakotay first looked at Tom and then at his underpants and then back at Tom. Chakotay's face turned a deep red, his face tightened up, the veins in his neck began to bulge and his eyes blazed. Tom was half expecting to get decked for this one, but for the life of himself, he couldn't move. He was afraid if he moved one inch he was going to start laughing, so he knelt there like an idiot, holding Chakotay's underwear out in front of him.

With a low growl, Chakotay reached over and ripped his underpants out of Tom's hands. "Get the hell out, Paris."

Tom bit his lip to keep his face straight as he stood up and left the cargo bay. It wasn't until he reached the relative safety of the pilot's chair on the opposite end of the shuttle did he allow himself to smile. The look on Chakotay's face as he stared at his underwear that Tom was holding was just too much. Wait till he told Harry.

It was two very quiet, very stressful days later when Tom set the shuttle down on the asteroid/planet. Chakotay had growled at him at every possible moment, speaking in monosyllabic responses whenever possible. Chakotay even refused to eat with him. Tom, who had finally given in to the inevitable, just let the Commander grouse, and slam, and angrily mumble his way through the trip. He gave up trying to talk to him and only addressed the Commander whenever protocol or the flight demanded it. However, as he lay in his bunk at night, listening to Chakotay pretend to be asleep, he wished it had been different between them.

They circled the planet once and found several viable areas to put down in. Chakotay had pointed to one of the scans and said,

"Land there."

"Why?" Tom had asked, more to hear Chakotay speak than anything else.

Chakotay gave a disgusted sigh. "Fail basic survival too, Paris? Shelter, deposits nearby and that cave could prove useful for storing things. If it's big enough we can put the shuttle in there and maybe use it."

Tom nodded and put the shuttle down as gently as possible. The cave proved to be too small to get the shuttle in, but still they could store equipment there instead of the limited space of the shelter.

As they set up the shelter and moved their gear into it, Tom watched Chakotay. He had tried to apologize on the shuttle, but he had done it with a joke and a sarcastic tone, and Chakotay had just stared at him for a minute and then turned his back on Tom. So Tom waited until they were settled and things were quiet. He really didn't want to spend the next twelve days listening to the wind whistle.

"Look, Commander, I'm sorry about your gear. It was an accident. I just forgot how much pressure was on it and the strap got away from me."

Chakotay stared at him for a moment, and then nodded shortly.

Well, it was something, Tom thought to himself.

Actually, things did get a little better the next day. They sat down and mapped out what they would do the next day and went over the weather patterns that the shuttle sensors had picked up. That night, as they lay there listening to the whistle of the wind and the spray of sand against the outside of the shelter, Tom was glad he had apologized. Now if Chakotay would just lighten up a little, they could get through this with relative comfort.

The next day, they donned their protective clothing, picked up a ration of water and their tricorders and left the shelter. Today they were topographically mapping dilithium.

Tom, despite the slightly claustrophobic feeling the environmental suit brought on, stared through the darkened shield of the helmet at their temporary home.

"How bleak," he mumbled to himself, as he took in the black sands glinting the early morning sun back up. He visually scanned the area, turning in a slow circle. Behind him, stark mountains rising up at sharp, irregular angles to a height of maybe twenty-five hundred feet and in the opposite direction all he saw was miles and miles of black desert. The idea of being caught alone on this planet made him shudder. No animals, no plants, nothing but endless sand. He got a quick mental vision of walking this barren wasteland, his footsteps marking his progress through the endless desert.

"Maybe on the outside, Lieutenant," Chakotay said, breaking him out of his reverie. "But just a few meters down, there is one of the richest veins of dilithium I have ever seen." Chakotay's voice sounded strange through the headsets in the helmets.

Tom quickly turned his tricorder on and started scanning in the opposite direction of Chakotay. He hoped Chakotay hadn't thought he was slacking. Just get to work Paris, he told himself, don't get distracted and whatever you do, don't fuck up. Carry your weight, that's what Chakotay wants.

"Let's mark this pocket, it's on the list of things B'Elanna wanted."

"Right, Commander. I'll get this side of it. What depth do you want to use as a cut off?"

And so the morning went. It was a huge pocket of crystals. As they walked the perimeter, Chakotay, a good distance away, calmly said,

"Watch your step, Lieutenant, I'm beginning to pick up empty cavities just a few meters down."

"Right, Commander," Tom replied, as he adjusted his tricorder to also scan for possible pits and unstable areas.

At approximately forty-five yards, Chakotay called a halt.

"That's more dilithium than Voyager could ever use. You scan in your direction, Paris, I'll scan over here and see what else we come up with."

Tom once more slowly swung in a circle. A blast of wind hit him and caused him to take a step as the wind pushed him. It had almost knocked him down this morning when he had first stepped out of the shelter. He wiped the grit off the screen of his tricorder and then looked at where it was pointing. He narrowed his eyes, straining to see against the blinding glare of the sun on the sand.

"I'll be damned," he muttered.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Salt, Commander. There is a surface pocket of salt. I thought I was seeing things, but there's a big white spot and my tricorder is reading it as salt. It's got some other minerals mixed in it too that our bodies can metabolize."

"Well, that only verifies that there was once water on this planet," Chakotay said, as he made his way towards Tom.

"Yeah, I wonder what happened?"

"Maybe the volcanoes, maybe the heat of the underground lava. Whatever it was, it's gone now, so all we can do is reap some of the benefits." Chakotay now stood next to him. "Come on, Paris. Let's go get a container and get some of that gathered up."

Their work was slow to begin with, hampered by the cumbersome suits they were forced to wear to protect them from having their skin sandblasted off or burnt to a crisp in fifteen minutes or less, but to have to walk through shifting sands and gather a crystalline substance in their gloved hands, not to mention pour it into a container in high winds made the work slow, difficult and tedious. Tom found himself sweating heavily as he gathered hand full after hand full of the precious mineral. He hadn't realized he was even breathing hard until Chakotay said,

"Take a break, Paris. You passing out, isn't going to speed this up."

"I'm okay, Commander. Just the suit that's making it hard."

"I said take a break. I could use one myself," Chakotay said, sitting back on his heals. He got his water ration from his belt, lifted the visor of his helmet and took a swallow. He only lifted his visor halfway and Tom thought that was a good idea, but even that abbreviated amount of light was blinding. That and the sudden influx of incredibly hot, thin air messed with him. His center of balance shifted sharply, his lungs wanted more oxygen and his eyes protested the incredibly bright light. Tom slapped his helmet shut and took several deep breaths with his eyes closed until his vision cleared.

He was surprised when Chakotay started to do calculations of some type with his tricorder.

"Whatcha doing, Commander?"

"Figuring something out. You wouldn't believe the amount of energy we'll be saving by doing this."

"Really?"

"Yes. To put it in ration terms. Most of the crew spends a little less than a ration a month to replicate salt. If we fill this container, we will be saving every crewmember a ration credit a month for the next twelve months."

"Hm," Tom said, doing some quick calculations in his head. "I can understand that with some of stuff that Neelix serves up, but then again, that's pretty impressive for salt. Now if we can just find some pepper, we can make it back to the Alpha with power to spare."

He saw Chakotay nod and the 'almost smile' that Chakotay had mastered. "Yeah, and if there were tomato plants for ketchup to cover the taste of the leola root, we could enjoy the trip."

Tom chuckled. He had tried every condiment he could think of to mask the aftertaste of leola and the only thing that came close was Bandarian Oolag, which was kinda like horseradish but with more of a zing to it, but that was almost as bad as the leola itself. "At least they didn't find any leola root on the scans," Tom said brightly.

"Yeah, but I thought Neelix was going to cry when he heard the news," Chakotay said, taking a swallow of water. "Let's get back to work."

That night, they sat in the shelter, eating packaged rations, listening to the wind. The Doctor had told them that as long as they weren't exerting themselves, they could survive without extra oxygen. So at night, when they were in the shelter, they did without.

After they had finished eating, they quickly went over what they were going to do the next day. Exploring the cave was the top entry on their list. Chakotay surmised if they moved quickly between the shelter and the cave they could make it without their suits; and since they would be inside and out of the sun, they could get by with breathers instead of full oxygen support. However, he wanted full climbing gear and safety harnesses because they weren't sure of the tectonic structure of the cave. After they made sure they had everything gathered in one place, they sat back in their bunks to relax.

Tom finished his reports, spent a little time reading and then, as tired as he was, opted to lie down early. He went behind a barrier they had erected for privacy and changed into sleep pants.

"Lieutenant, I'm surprised. It's only twenty-one hundred hours," Chakotay said from his bunk, as Tom pulled back his blanket and climbed into bed.

"Back breaking labor coupled with low oxygen levels do that to me, Commander. Sorry to disappoint you." Tom fluffed his pillow and stretched out on his back.

"I'm not disappointed, but what would that have done to your reputation if the Delaney twins were here?"

Tom considered that for a moment, and then said, "If the Delaney twins were here with me, I'd use a breather to keep them happy." He promptly turned on his side with his back to the Commander.

Chakotay snorted and lowered the light levels.

The next day, they spent the entire day exploring the caverns extending below the mountain range behind them. They had managed to gather several kilos of useful material, and had marked one vein of titanium that although not particularly pure would be useful. There were several spots on the hull that needed to be reinforced.

"Tom, do you think we can beam these containers into the shuttle."

Tom thought for a moment. "If one of us runs the transporter, and the other moves through the caves and marks the container with their comm badge, I think the shuttle transporter can lock on."

"Good because I really don't want to lug these back to the opening," Chakotay said, looking at the last three they had just filled with an unusual crystal that could be used to repair both the main phasers and handheld ones.

"Me neither. Do you want to run the transporter or mark the containers?"

"I'll mark the containers. I'll put my comm badge on them and then you beam my badge back to me."

"Right, check in every now and then, so I know nothing's happened."

"Good idea."

It wasn't until four days later that things started to get tense. They had moved the shuttle the day before and the new location was not nearly as hospitable as the last. They were in the middle of a canyon and it was a fair hike between the shuttle and the shelter. They beamed the shelter close to a wall, so they would have some protection from the sun, but Tom landed the shuttle a good distance away. They had problems getting the shelter up due to high gusting winds and hadn't finished setting up inside before they needed to turn on the artificial lighting. Tom had regenerated several bruises and strained muscles after that struggle. That first night, they had both gladly stripped off their dirty clothes and climbed into their bunks, too exhausted to think.

The next day they took a detailed scan of where they were and found that although they were smack dab in the middle of a conductive, ductile ore that could be used for wiring. It was also about seventy-five feet up. It was also conductive enough to bounce the scanner sweeps haywire. They would have to carry everything out of here. Up close, they got good readings, but anything more than about fifteen feet and the results started to deteriorate.

There was also a surface or nearly a surface, deposit of chromium, a metal that resisted corrosion and useful in repairs. That was in a lower area of the canyon. And, other various metals, ores and minerals that they would be spending the next several days breaking their backs to get to.

"We do get hazard pay for this shit, don't we, Commander," Tom said, looking down into the pit that was the access point to the vein chromium.

"Shut up and start down, Paris. I'll anchor you." Chakotay said, wrapping the rope around his back and setting his feet.

"How deep is it?"

There was one thing that a lot of people didn't know about Tom and that was, he didn't like heights and he was not fond of tight places. He looked at his commanding officer wishing that Harry had come instead. He could lower Harry into that little hole with no problem, but there was no way in hell that he could toe the line for Chakotay.

"About thirty five feet," Chakotay said.

"Not the chromium. How deep is the pit?"

"Don't ask, Paris, and I won't tell."

"Oh, great."

"Go on. Let me know when you get close."

As Tom dropped over the edge, Chakotay set his feet again, and tensioned the rope. Just as Tom dropped below the edge of the pit, he heard Chakotay say,

"Hey Paris, remember when I talked about you managing to get into trouble on this away mission?"

"Yes."

"This is not the time to prove me right."

Smart Ass, Tom thought to himself.

It took Tom almost two hours and several trips into the hole before they had enough of it. Chakotay's suit was covered in dirt by the time they finished. Silently, they unhooked their gear and dumped it on the top of the storage container. Then they both took a handle and lifted the large container. Then they both sighed as they started the arduous trip back to the shuttle. Of course, that was when the wind started to kick up and made the task even more wonderful by blowing straight at them at. Both of them had to lean into the wind to keep going.

Chakotay sat down heavily on his bunk. Tom dragged himself to the med kit and pulled out the regenerator.

"I hate this planet," Chakotay mumbled.

"Me, too. Must be a first, Commander. We are in full agreement with each other."

Chakotay just shot him an unamused glare. Tom scanned him from a few feet away and almost jumped.

"Why didn't you say something?"

According to the tricorder, Chakotay had deep contusions and abrasions on his back. Tom reached down and turned Chakotay's hands over.

"Shit."

His hands were raw from rope burn. Tom turned them back over and now he noticed they were raw and bright red from sun burn.

"What in the fuck did you do with your gloves?"

"I almost lost the rope once, Paris. What did you want me to do, just let you plummet the three hundred feet to the bottom of that shaft and scream I was sorry as you hit bottom?" Chakotay asked, as he slowly flexed his hands. "Besides, we needed that chromium."

"Try we would have found a different way. Hell, I could have double fulcrumed and lowered myself down," Tom said, his own tiredness dissipating as he went to get the med kit. He fixed up an antibiotic/analgesic and gave it to Chakotay. Then he went and poured out a ration of water into a pan and moved back to where Chakotay was. Just like him to do this to himself so Tom would feel guilty about it. He started to clean his hands, but Chakotay pulled away.

"I can take care of myself, Paris," Chakotay growled, as he set his hands in the pan of water. Tom saw him wince as he submerged his hands.

"Yeah, which is why you have rubbed all the flesh off your hands, Commander," Tom said scanning Chakotay's hands. "Shit, you have rope fibers embedded in your palms."

Chakotay reached out, grabbed the tricorder from Tom and threw it behind him on the bed. "I don't need you mothering me."

"Well, you sure as hell need someone to look after you, because you are doing a lousy job of it. Put your hands back in that water," Tom said, leaning over and snatching the tricorder back. He scanned Chakotay again. "Yep, according to this thing, you should be checking yourself into sickbay for at least twenty-four hours. Roll over, let me regenerate the bruises on your back."

Chakotay complied, pulling his shirt out of the way. Tom whistled. Those had to hurt. Even with Chakotay's dark skin tone, those bruises were livid. He set the regenerator to go a little deeper than usual and started to work over Chakotay's left kidney.

"Good job, Chakotay. I never knew you were into pain and suffering," Tom said, as he worked on a particularly deep bruise. He'd check the organs later for damage. He hadn't seen bruises like this since the last time B'Elanna had let someone have it. He was so engrossed in what he was going that he didn't hear what Chakotay said to him at first.

"This coming from the man I dragged out of a gutter on some backwater shit hole, not to mention that I had to keep from having the shit beaten out of him on multiple occasions due to his smartass mouth."

Tom snapped the regenerator off. "Before you get all self righteous, you didn't stop all the attacks."

"Paris, if it hadn't been for me, you would be dead."

"So would you, Chakotay."

"If I remember correctly, I didn't ask for your help that day," Chakotay said, trying to sit up.

Tom stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not done yet. And," Tom paused to reset the regenerator. "I didn't ask for your help, either."

"Oh get a grip. If I hadn't offered you a job, how far were you from selling yourself, Paris?"

"For your information, Commander, you only found me on the planet because I had just had lost everything I had worked my entire life for, for telling the fucking truth."

"Yeah, telling the truth about murdering three people, after you lied to save yourself," Chakotay responded, turning half on his side.

"I didn't murder them!" Tom snapped.

"Then what did you do, Paris? Offer them coffee as the shuttle crashed?"

Tom snapped the regenerator off again. "Fuck you, Chakotay. It was an accident." Tom stood up and moved away from Chakotay's bunk. "I tried everything I knew to stop that crash. It was an accident."

"Sure it was, just like getting caught in the Maquis was some type of accident, right?"

Tom spun around and threw regenerator down beside Chakotay. "No, someone from your crew sold me out," he accused. "That's why I got caught."

"Sure they did, Paris," Chakotay sneered, sitting up. "How about you were just too fucking drunk to fly that day." Chakotay picked up the regenerator and started to work on his own bruises.

"I was dry when I was with the Maquis and you know it. I wasn't drunk or strung out on anything. Hell, I never flew drunk. I'm not that stupid."

"Really, then what about those reports from the Academy Med Center that reported you as drunk when you fell asl...excuse me, passed out in class?" Chakotay asked as he shut the regenerator off and looked up at Tom. His glare full of accusations and anger.

"What are you doing digging through my files?" Tom hissed. "And if you're talking about my second year at the Academy, that was the night my father and I had a major blow out. He changed my schedule without asking me and changed everything to command training, not piloting. He told me that I was going to command a starship if it took every chit that anyone ever owed him, and he wasn't going to let me screw it up either. He had overridden everything at the Academy. He had taken over my life. I told him I was going to fly whether he liked it or not and I left. I got drunk the night before, Chakotay. I didn't drink during class."

"Oh, so you went out and got so drunk you were still drunk what fifteen hours later. That showed him, didn't it? Brilliant idea."

"I have a brilliant idea now, Chakotay. Why don't you just shut up. You have no idea what my life was like. My father rode me too fucking hard. Always what he wanted me to be and what I had to do to get there. Forget what I wanted, it was all about what dear, old Dad wanted. So forgive me for getting drunk once, but personally, I think I had a pretty good reason to do it." Tom was standing there, facing Chakotay. His entire body was trembling..

"Ah, poor Paris," Chakotay laughed spitefully. He stood up and came face to face with Tom. His words were spoken low and with total disparagement. "We won't even discuss the comment about you getting drunk once. That concept is absolutely ludicrous, unless you count the time between being cashiered and when I found you as one drunk." Chakotay got in Tom's face. "You are such a wimp, Paris."

"Wimp? I put your ass on the deck, Chakotay. How many wimp's have done that?"

Chakotay laughed. "You had to hide behind Kathryn's skirts when you did it. Get a grip, Paris, you didn't even deck me, you shoved me down...when you knew Kathryn was gonna keep me from kicking your ass. If you're so brave, why don't you take a shot at me now? Ooops, but then who will you blame for that? ME? Probably. You just can't take any of blame for your own screw ups can you, Paris?" Chakotay was rocking his head back and forth as he spoke with his hands on his hips. "Go ahead, Paris, why don't you actually try to hit me now. Even in this condition, I can kick your ass from here to the shuttle and back. C'mon, Paris, take another shot at me."

Tom backed up a step. He hadn't had anyone get in his face like this in a long time. It was very reminiscent of the guards at Auckland. Quickly, he tried to narrow their argument down to one point. "I apologized for riding you the way I did on Neelix's show, where everyone would hear it," Tom defended. How dare Chakotay come after him like this; everyone knew Tom had to do that. He had to look like a traitor. "Besides, I had to lie to you. I was under orders. It was Seska that made you look like a fool, not me."

"More excuses! Why am I not surprised? Paris, you got on shipwide, took a bunch of potshots at me, and then made some half-baked, snide apology. You couldn't even apologize to me face to face, and you're afraid to face me now. You have the guts of a jellyfish, Paris. You, Thomas Eugene Paris, are a fucking coward. No wonder your father disowned you. You got no balls, Paris."

That was it. Tom lost it. "No balls? Watch this, Chakotay!"

The next thing he knew...Chakotay was on the ground with a split lip.

He remembered his next words clearly, "Oh, shit."

"'Oh, shit' is right, Paris," Chakotay growled, coming up off the ground and taking Tom down hard.

Tom, who figured he was doing brig time for assaulting a senior officer again, if he was lucky enough to live this time, fought for dear life. He called Chakotay every name he could think of, claiming Chakotay had pushed him into taking a swing at him, and that he just wanted the chance to put Tom in the brig. They grappled in the dirt for a few minutes before Chakotay pinned him down. Tom's arms were pinned over his head and Chakotay was sitting on him. They were both heaving for breath in the thin atmosphere. Tom was beginning to panic from being held down. His vision was going gray around the edges and his hands were tingling.

"Stop," Chakotay ordered, leaning into his hold.

Tom could see he was struggling, too. Tom stopped struggling and looked up into Chakotay's face. He saw the blood staining his chin. "So, you gonna write me up?"

"No, I won't," Chakotay panted. "Even though you probably deserve it."

"You jackass," Tom accused, throwing his weight all to one side. He almost managed to throw the Commander. Almost. He was straining to get enough oxygen.

"Stop it!" Chakotay said, struggling to hold Tom down. "That isn't what I meant." Chakotay started to breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He was sweating profusely, too.

"The hell it isn't," Tom threw back breathily. For some absolutely insane reason, he wished he could at least manage to sink his teeth into Chak's wrist, figuring that would be enough to make him let go. He tried to dislodge him by kicking up, but Chak managed to pin his legs down.

"All right, I was taking some cheap shots." Chakotay was just about been laying on top of him. He had his feet and lower legs holding Tom's legs down and was sitting on his stomach, leaning forward on Tom's arms, which did absolutely nothing for Tom's ability to inhale.

"I can't breath, Commander, let me up," Tom ordered.

Chakotay began to release his hold, but paused as he looked Tom in the eyes. "You gonna hit me again?"

"Only if you really deserve it...again," Tom rejoined.

"Fuck you, Paris," Chakotay threw in his face.

"Not in your wettest dreams, Commander," Tom said snidely.

Chakotay pulled away from him. He went to the far side of the shelter and leaned over the table until he got his breathing under control. Tom just sat up and also tried to bring his oxygen levels back up. He was watching Chakotay closely to see what his next move would be. To say he was surprised when Chakotay grabbed his breather and took off out the door would be putting it mildly.

"What in the fuck?" Tom asked no one in particular. Tom lay there for a minute wondering what in the heck had just happened. He looked at the door of the shelter. It swung on its hinges even in the protected canyon they had found. What had just happened?

A moment later, Chakotay came back in the shelter. He roughly started to gather his bedroll and other supplies.

"What are you doing, Commander?"

"Pretty obvious, isn't it, Lieutenant? I'm going to go sleep somewhere else."

"Why?"

"Why?! Because I have had enough of your smart ass mouth, Paris."

"My smart ass mouth? Commander, I was trying to explain something to you, and you, the counselor of the group, took a cheap shot. Fine, you want to go sleep out there. Go ahead. Why should I care?"

"You were trying to tell me why it was everyone else's fault you made a fool out of me, Paris. It was Kathryn's fault. It was Seska's fault. You know what, Paris, according to you, your entire life is someone else's fault. Grow up and take some responsibility."

Tom stood there stunned for a minute.

"Think about it, Paris," Chakotay said, as he expertly packed his gear. "You were such a wash out in Star Fleet because your father rode you too hard. Caldik Prime wasn't really your fault because there was an uncharted something or nother that caused you to kill three people. Your drinking wasn't your fault when I found you, because it was Star Fleet's for drumming you out. It wasn't your fault you got caught with the Maquis because someone sold you out. Get a fucking grip, Paris." Chakotay paused in his packing and looked back at Tom. His dark eyes burrowing into Tom's. "Grow up, Tom. When I make a mistake, I face up to it. You find the nearest scapegoat and pin it all on them." He turned back to his packing. "And as far as your apology, I know Kathryn made you withhold the information. I know you had to act like a traitor, but you enjoyed the shots you took at me, and everyone knows it." Chakotay stood up, with his pack in his hand. "I will not be held up to ridicule by someone like you. I am not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I am one hell of a lot closer to respectable than you are. You really want me to believe you're sorry for some of the shit you've pulled? Stop treating me the way you do. Stop making people laugh at me." Chakotay had moved closer to Tom, getting in his face. "You think I don't know some of the shit you call me? You think I don't know who starts up the betting pools on me? Do you really think, for one second, that I don't hear the crew laughing at me because of you? Well, just one more piece of information for you, Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, I hear every single word, every single snigger and every single insult you lob in my direction. And I am not a Mystic Warrior. I am not analy retentive, and I am not deaf! I have worked hard to bring the two crews together. I have done my best to help the people willing to accept my help and I have busted my ass to help Kathryn and the rest of the crew get home! So a word to the wise for you, Tom Paris, stay out of my sight, because you may have saved my life once, but your own actions have canceled any debt I may have owed you. You are on your own."

Tom just stood there as Chakotay stormed out of the shelter, slamming the door as he went.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. All he knew was someone had just barged past every single defensive barrier he had ever erected, and laid it all out. And, what was probably worse, was Chakotay was right; and even worse than that, Tom realized he had actually hurt Chakotay.

Tom sat down on his sleeping bag still thinking. It hadn't occurred to him that he was actually hurting Chakotay. Getting to him, yes, but hurting him, no. Chakotay was made out of iron. He didn't take Tom's shit seriously. Okay, so maybe Tom had taken it too far. Maybe the pool on whether he wore boxers or briefs had been a little out of line. And maybe he had made one too many jokes at the Commander's expense. It had almost gotten to be a game to him, and he honestly thought Chakotay hated him so much it wouldn't matter. Obviously he was wrong. Maybe the Commander used his defenses to keep people away the same way Tom did.

Sleep was a long time coming that night.

The next morning, Tom had done a location check on Chakotay and found out he was in the shuttle. He slid on his suit and made his was to the shuttle. When he went in, he found Chakotay meditating. He stripped his suit off and went to the pilot's seat and waited. He watched the wind whip the black sand around. The dirt devils were interesting to watch. He glanced up at the gray sky, wondering where Voyager was.

Then, as he watched the barren, gray, craggy surface of the planet, he realized this was a visual representation of his life. Nothing pretty, nothing particularly nice to look at, the planet was livable, capable of supporting life, but because there was no water, it was dead. He wondered what would bring water to his life. He thought back on all the things that had driven the water from his life. Chakotay had managed to list a lot of them the night before, but there were things he didn't know, things no one knew. Explosions, deficiencies, underground pressures, failures. Tom sighed heavily, as he watched the planet and saw himself walking this barren planet for the rest of his life.

"What are you doing here?"

Tom jumped. Chakotay was a few steps behind him. Tom stood up, trying to come up with the right answer. He glanced out the view port and then back at Chakotay. Tom said the only thing he could think to say.

"I said some things I shouldn't of last night. I'm sorry. I never actually thought I was hurting you. I didn't think that stuff was getting to you that much."

Chakotay looked tired, and not just physically tired. He looked like he was out of whatever kept him going. He let out with a long sigh.

"Thank you." There was a long moment of silence before Chakotay spoke again. "And I apologize, too. It wasn't just you, Lieutenant. I unloaded a lot of pent up emotions on you last night, and I did take some cheap shots. I'm sorry."

An unspoken truce was reached between the two of them. That night was not mentioned again.

It was three days later that Tom saw something he never thought he would ever see. He and Chakotay had moved camp once again, but as they moved to set up the encampment, he heard Chakotay gasp.

"Oh, shit. NO!"

Tom looked over to see Chakotay thigh deep in sand. "Commander!" he cried, moving towards him.

"Stay back, it's quick sand," Chakotay ordered, now hip deep in the sand. "Spirits, don't let me die like this."

It was a prayer if Tom ever heard one. He looked around quickly. He was too far from the shuttle for the climbing equipment and Chakotay was sinking way too quickly to get there and back. Then he saw the straps they stored the walls of the shelter together with. He ran to it.

"Tom, what are you doing?"

"The strap. I can pull you out with it."

"Good idea."

Tom worked as quickly as possible, releasing the come along, pulling the long strap loose.

"Tom, hurry," Chakotay said. He didn't sound like he was close to panic, but the tightness in his voice, the rapid breathing were evident even over the mike.

"It's stuck," Tom said, yanking on it. He glanced back and saw Chakotay was now chest deep. He gave a desperate tug and the buckle came loose.

"Hurry, Tom." Then Tom heard words that chilled him to the bone. "Spirits of my fathers, I am far from my home. I honor you who have guided me through my life, given me wisdom and protected me..."

As he ran towards Chakotay, trying to move quickly in the sand, he called, "Chak, you have an environmental suit on. We got some time, so don't give up on me yet."

"I won't," he said, but Tom heard the fear in his voice. "Stay back, Tom. Both of us going down..."

"Shut up and catch the fucking strap," Tom growled, as he tossed the strap, buckle first.

Chakotay was now shoulder deep, holding his arms up. They were both watching the flashing buckle. As it reached the apex of its arc, a hard wind blew and the buckle landed out of the Commander's reach.

"No!" Tom cried, as he quickly pulled the strap back in, coiling it. His eyes darting between the buckle snaking its way back to him and Chakotay visible sinking lower and lower to the sand. He could hear Chakotay mumbling something under his breath, but he didn't want to think about the possibility the man was saying his death prayers. He was mumbling a few prayers himself as he threw the strap again.

"Please, God, just this once."

The strap landed right beside Chakotay and he managed to get the buckle and wrapped it around his wrist, and anchored with his other hand. Tom gathered the slack up, wrapped it around his waist and started to walk backwards.

"Hang on, Commander."

"Hurry, Tom. Please." Chakotay whispered, as his helmeted head disappeared beneath the sand.

"You got air, Chakotay, don't panic," Tom said, as he turned his back on the sight of Chakotay's hand with the strap wrapped around it slowly slipping beneath the sand. He put the strap over his shoulder and dug in. Step after step he put every ounce of strength and weight he had into making every inch of headway.

He didn't figure it would be so hard to pull Chakotay out. He felt like some animal of burden trying to pull a cart that was stuck in the mud. Then he heard Chakotay, whisper,

"I can see, Tom. Keep going."

"I'm trying, Commander," he groaned. Sweat poured out of him as he drug Chakotay to where his footsteps started. Then he fell to his knees, gulping in air from his exertions. He threw open his helmet just before he started throwing up. A hand on his back steadied him.

"Thank you," Chakotay said quietly, after Tom had finished puking. He handed Tom his water, but Tom shook his head, and continued trying to breathe. Chakotay closed Tom's helmet and a minute later, helped him stand up. They carefully made their way back to the shuttle and went inside.

They stayed there that day. Tom tormented with shakes, chills and muscle cramps. He was surprised when Chakotay went into the storage bay and came out with a handful of something and sprinkled it in Tom's mouth.

"The salt?"

Chakotay nodded and gave Tom some water. "You're dehydrated."

"But it only took a few minutes to get you out."

"Maybe with the way you were having to work it felt like minutes, but it was more like twenty or thirty. You pulled me to the edge of the quick sand and then up," Chakotay said, as he ran the tricorder over Tom. "Take your tunic off, Tom. Let me deal with your shoulder."

"It's just a bruise."

"Yeah, but it's a pretty good one."

Tom looked down at his shoulder, and was surprised to see deep red and purple bruises. Chakotay just raised an eyebrow as he fired up the regenerator.

"My turn."

Then he gave Tom a shot. Tom felt himself getting sleepy.

"That's fucking sneaky, Chakotay."

"You need to sleep," Chakotay said with a warm voice. Tom was wondering if he had imagined that nice tone just before he slipped off to sleep, and had he just felt Chak's warm fingers brush through his hair? Or was it just his sleepy mind imagining it?

They had three more days before Voyager got back to them. Tom had healed from his bout with dehydration. They never moved without a tricorder now.

They were breaking down the mobile drill. They packed it in the case, but as they did, a strong wind whipped up, peppering them with sand and dirt. They both knelt and closed the case quickly, as the wind whipped up even higher. They could feel it hitting their suits, and hear it peppering their face plates. Tom saw a huge cloud of sand coming at them. He grabbed the handle of the case.

"I got one question, Chakotay," he said, as he stood up in time with the Commander. "Why did we get this suck ass assignment?"

"Because of me," Chakotay responded, trying to shade his eyes and look around. He also noticed the cloud. "Come on, that looks bad. We need to get to the shelter."

"Right."

The two men struggled forward in the sand, trying not to fall on their faces or drop the drill. Chakotay was leading the way, holding the tricorder out in front of him, trying to help control the unwieldy drill case and walk straight. When they were inside the shelter, Tom moved the drill by the wall as Chakotay secured the door.

"What do you mean because of you?" Tom asked, lifting his faceplate and releasing the locks for his helmet.

Chakotay, who already had his helmet off, paused and sighed. "Because that's the reason. Kathryn and I had an argument. Very honestly, she was going to keep you on Voyager and I protested. She's been letting you sit at the helm too much lately and I said you needed to get off the ship. Well, she decided to get pissy and gave me this assignment with you to...get even with me." He began to strip his environmental suit off, but Tom could only stare dumbfounded for a moment.

"Pissy?" Tom asked with a slight smile. He also removed the ES, glad to have a full freedom of movement back. He really didn't like the suits, but he understood their necessity.

"Yes, pissy and I would appreciate you not repeating that." Chakotay shook his hair out, trying to get the sand loose that they both managed to pick up no matter what they did. "Unless you want me cleaning cargo bays with my toothbrush. That woman can be touchier than a smashed thumb when she wants to be."

"The Captain?" Tom asked incredulously. "No, you must be kidding." Tom knew as well as every other member of the senior staff did that Kathryn Janeway could get herself in a real snit sometimes and they usually paid for it.

"Cute, Paris, real cute," Chakotay said with a smile.

Chakotay put his suit by the door and turned back towards Tom as sand sprayed the outside of the shed and the air around them shifted. They had made it back just in time. He double checked the latch on the door. One night they hadn't locked the door and both he and Tom had about come out of their skins as the door slammed open just after they had turned the lights out.

"Is that really the reason, Commander? I mean, you two have been getting really distant from each other." Tom knew he was stepping into dangerous waters, but it had been noticed, and a lot of people were wondering. "I mean, I know it's personal, but...it's hitting the grapevine." He put his suit next to Chakotay's. He could feel the wind whistling past the cracks around the door. Tomorrow there would be a fine line of elevated sand on the floor where it had gotten through and built up.

"Yes, I know it is, and yes, things have been less than wonderful. A lot less than wonderful." Chakotay sighed and went to his bunk. "I would say I can't figure her out, but when my father would say that, my mother would always reply, 'Then you aren't trying hard enough.'"

"Sounds like something a woman would say," Tom replied with a grin, sitting down at the small table they used continually for anything from meals to planning sessions.

"True," Chakotay said, smiling deeply. "But my father would always try harder after that and usually they came to some sort of an agreement."

Tom ducked as the shelter creaked from the force of the wind. "Wow, this is gonna be a bad one." Tom moved to the window. Even though it was early afternoon on the planet, all he could see was swirling black. Chakotay joined him.

"Well, we have enough supplies to see us through it."

"Yeah," Tom said.

After an early dinner and some much needed down time, both Tom and Chakotay were stretched out on their bedrolls, leaning against the walls, listening to howl of the wind, the sand blasting the shelter, as it creaked its protests, and bullshitted.

"Almost feels like we should be telling ghost stories," Tom said with a small laugh.

"Ghost stories?" Chakotay asked, looking across the shelter. It still wasn't night but they had turned the lights on, because the sand was so thick, it had blotted out the sunlight.

"Yeah. When I was a kid and we would go camping, at night we would sit around a campfire telling ghost stories to try to scare each other."

"Admiral Paris told ghost stories?" Chakotay asked incredulous.

"No, the Young Academians. Sort of a preschool for the Academy. We would have weekly meetings, outings, camping trips, that sort of thing."

"I heard about that. But wasn't it only for gifted students?"

"Yeah, Dad bought my way in. I almost made it on my piloting skills, but not quite. So Dad slicked a few hands and, viola, I'm in."

"Piloting skills, huh? When did you join?"

"Twelve," Tom said matter-of-factly.

"TWELVE?" Chakotay asked, looking over at Tom. "Did you make it on sims scores or something?"

"No, I started sims at five, graduated to the family shuttle at eight, and actual routed flights at ten." Tom said with a laugh. Most people reacted that way to finding out when he started flying. "So, do you know any good ghost stories?"

"Why would I know stories about ghosts?"

"Let me guess. Your tribe didn't do ghost stories?" He teased.

"Our stories had a purpose and yes, some of them were meant to scare younger children or warn them, but mainly our stories told our history. I guess if you look at it a certain way, telling about our ancestors could be considered a ghost story, but..."

"No, Chakotay, not your history. Ghost stories are made up. You try to scare people with them, because you're out in the woods, and there are strange noises, and..." Tom saw the dubious look on Chakotay's face. "Never mind."

There was a long moment of silence. Tom watched the roof for a moment. "Okaay, how about some cards then?"

"Okay, but no gambling. You get everything set up. I want to check on something."

Tom had the deck of cards on the table, he'd replicated something for both of them to drink and had sat there patiently for about five minutes, while Chakotay busily worked away on his padd.

"Commander?" Chakotay just kept it up. "Commander?" No response. "Yo, Chakotay!"

"Hm?"

"Cards, game, distraction from being couped up in a 20 by 15 foot space?"

"Oh, sorry. Actually, I'm scanning the storm and if my readings are correct, this storm could get very intense. I'm trying to see what our options are."

Boy, would the Captain be proud of him now, Tom thought sarcastically, but instead, he said, "What do you mean intense?"

"Well, there's no water here, and as the wind moves the sand, there is a massive amount of static electricity building up in the atmosphere. We could get static charges and discharges."

"Great, no pissing outside," Tom quipped.

"Not unless you happen to like having your dick sandblasted by a forty-five mile an hour wind."

"Ouch," Tom said, covering his groin protectively.

"Yeah, ouch," Chakotay laughed. "Not to mention the electricity would be drawn to the moisture. It could be a shocking experience."

"Oh, man. Chakotay, do not quit your day job and do not try a comedy routine for the next Talent Show, okay?"

Chakotay smiled briefly, but at least he put the padd down. "Not a problem. Besides, I have my hands full as First Officer and Ship's Counselor." He moved to the table. "So what are we playing?"

"How about strip poker?"

"Tom, I said, no gambling."

"This isn't gambling. It's just something to kill time. Besides, I've seen your underwear, Commander. I promise not to be too scandalized."

"Who said you were going to win. For all you know, you could be down to your skivvies before the night is over."

"You think," Tom challenged.

Within two standard hours, Tom sat at the table, all his clothes in a small pile with the exception of one sock and his own underwear beside him, while Chakotay sat there missing only his shirt and tunic. Chakotay was shuffling the deck.

"Still feeling lucky, Tom, or do you really like exposing yourself to me?"

"Fuck you, Chak," Tom replied good naturedly.

"Okay, Lieutenant, I'll make you a deal. If you win the next hand, we stop playing and you can get dressed. I win and you stay in your underpants alone for the rest of the night." Chakotay flashed both dimples at Tom and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"You are a jerk, Chakotay, a complete jerk."

"I have been accused of worse," Chakotay quipped. "Your answer, Mr. Paris?"

"Okay. I win, I get dressed. You win, I do the nature boy routine for the rest of the night."

"Oh, one more thing, you loose, I get bragging rights."

"What?"

"If you lose, when we get back to Voyager, I get to tell everything you lost everything but your BVD's to me. Call it...payback." Chak's smile as he shuffled the cards was downright evil.

"Well, that rips it, Commander. You are part Klingon. Isn't it the Klingons that say revenge is a dish best served cold? B'Elanna would be proud of you."

"Tell me about it. SO do you still agree?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"No," Chakotay said with an angelic smile. "By the way, it's a Romulan saying."

"Are you sure?"

Tom sighed as he pulled his last sock off, mumbling about how cold it got at night. Chakotay just continued to smile with a full house laid out in front of him.

"We can adjust the atmospheric controls for you, Tom. If you get too cold."

"Gimme that deck of cards. Maybe I can win at solitaire," Tom said, grabbing the deck away from Chakotay.

The next morning, both men woke up to a reverberating crash of thunder and blinding white light. They were both on their feet in seconds, until they woke up completely and realized they were in the middle of lightening storm the likes of which neither had ever seen before.

"Think we ought to try for the shuttle?" Tom asked, pulling his pants on.

"I don't think we should leave this shelter. We're safe in here. Out there, we'll be the tallest thing around, and the term lightening rod comes to mind."

"Good point," Tom agreed. "Besides, we can't get the shuttle up in this."

"Voyager will be here in two days. We've already gathered and marked everything. I don't see any reason to do anything but sit tight and wait," Chakotay said, going to the replicator and ordering two cups of coffee.

"When did you start drinking coffee?" Tom asked.

"Since Kathryn turned me onto to cinnamon and nutmeg coffee. It's almost like having dessert for breakfast."

"Ooh, that sounds really good."

"Try a little chocolate, cream and sugar in it, and it is dessert for breakfast."

Later that day, Tom started to get antsy.

"Calm down, Tom. It's wearing on me, too. Just think about something else."

"Like what," Tom snapped. "You're sitting over there like some statue. Not talking or anything."

"Well, idle conversation isn't a real skill of mine. Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?"

Tom thought for a minute and then lowered his voice. "Do you really think we're going to make it home?"

And that was the day Tom and Chakotay started talking.

The storm continued for another two days. After the first night, they couldn't even get out of the shelter for all the sand building up around it.

"Tom, stop pacing," Chakotay said from his bedroll.

"I can't, Commander. I hate being locked up."

"I know that, but pacing is just emphasizing the small space."

"Then what do you suggest, Chakotay. I sit down and imagine myself in a field of flowers. Meditate? Find my spirit guide?"

"Actually meditating is a good way to pass the time. I'm sure you remember from your training in Star Fleet, it is..."

"Don't go all high and mighty on me, Chakotay. I passed the course," Tom barked. He threw himself down on his bedroll and for all of forty-five seconds tried to reach a quiet attitude. Then he shot off the bed and resumed his pacing.

Chakotay sighed and sat up. "Lieutenant Paris, sit down and calm down, or I will sedate you."

"The hell you will, Chakotay," Tom snarled back. "I don't do confined well."

"Could have fooled me," Chakotay said with a dark stare.

"Fuck you!" Tom hissed, and then went to the door of the shelter.

"Lieutenant, stop."

And for the second time, he replied, "Fuck you! I cannot stay in here another second."

Tom was completely surprised when Chakotay took him down. Actually, he plastered Tom against the wall. Tom was not only surprised by how quick Chakotay moved, but also the solid bulk behind him, pinning him. It wasn't like Tom thought Chak had gotten soft since they been in the Delta, but he wasn't expected Maquis hard either.

"Listen up, Paris," Chakotay growled in his ear. "You open that door and we may not get it closed again. Second, I will not allow you to invite a lightening strike on that thick skull of yours. And third, you will not disobey a direct order from me again, or I will beat the shit out of you and happily do the brig time. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you, Chakotay. I have to get out of here now," Tom said, struggling against the much bigger man. He had to get out. There wasn't enough air in the shelter anymore. It was like he couldn't breath; being pinned against the wall wasn't helping much either. Chakotay relaxed his grip and when Tom pushed back, Chakotay let him go to the length of his arms, then jerked him backwards and then using his entire body, slammed him back into the wall, driving all the air from his lungs.

"Wrong answer, Paris. Now get a grip on yourself. Claustrophobia is not that unusual, especially with your past. You are completely safe in this building. It's out there you are in danger. Now breathe and breathe deep. Match my breathing, Tom. Inhale."

And for who knew how long, Chakotay talked Tom down. He kept him pinned to the wall until the panic passed. When Tom was calm and relaxed, Chakotay released him. Tom stood up and slowly turned around. Chakotay watched him carefully, waiting for another explosion.

"You okay now?" Chakotay asked.

Tom inhaled again, and looked around the shelter. "For a little while."

"C'mon. We can play cards or something."

"Okay," Tom replied shakily. They sat at the table and Tom taught Chakotay how to play gin rummy, an old earth game.

"Shit, Chakotay. I am never playing cards with you again," Tom exclaimed, looking at the padd.

"How many credits do you owe me now?"

"I can't even afford salt for the next two months."

He was pacing. It was pitch black out and the storm had gotten even worse.

"Tom," Chakotay said in a low pitched tone of voice. It rippled over Tom like a waterfall.

"Do you know what it's like in prison, Chakotay? Do you?"

"No, I never was imprisoned. I did a stint as a prisoner in a Cardie POW camp once as a plant, but never prison."

"You did a Cardie camp?"

"Yeah, when I first joined the Maquis," Chakotay conceded.

"Were they as bad as they said they were?" Tom asked, sitting down on his bunk.

Chakotay stared at him for a minute and then at the ceiling. "Worse."

Tom waited, but Chakotay was not saying anything else, so he phrased the question carefully.

"Was your mission a success?"

"We got the people out."

Tom could sense something big happened, but Chakotay wasn't offering any information. Finally he asked,

"What happened?"

"I found out what war was all about. The hard way."

"Did you kill someone?"

"Killed a lot of someones. A lot of Carassian someones with my bare hands, Paris. Drop it."

"Well, at least your mission was a success," Tom pointed out.

"No, actually I failed in my mission completely, but the Maquis attacked anyway. Now leave it alone."

Tom wondered what happened. "Okay, so I guess being there at least helps you understand what it was like for me in prison."

Chakotay sighed loudly. "No, Tom, it doesn't. You got food in prison, you had a place to sleep out of the rain and the cold. You didn't watch anyone starve to death or die of exposure in prison, and...well maybe you did get beaten up by the guards, but they probably didn't use Cardie pain sticks on you."

"Oh, shit, Chakotay. How long were you there?"

"Three weeks," Chakotay said quietly. "But that is where I found Gerron and B'Elanna."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. They patched me up after my orientation session." Chakotay rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "Actually, Tom, I would have killed for a building like this. So no, I have no idea what prison is like. What was it like for you?"

"Well, this," Tom said, gesturing around. "They made you wear an ankle bracelet and you always knew you were being watched. Always. There was no privacy, and even though they knew where you were, and where everyone else was, even if there was a problem, the guards they didn't care. They didn't come. They had sound sensors, they had medical implants and they never came. But you were wrong about one thing, Chak. I watched people die. I even watched people die with their blood on my hands."

"I'm surprised to hear that. I always thought Fed prisons were civilized."

"Civilized? Chakotay, the people in there are usually people who don't live by the rules. What makes you think prison is civilized? Especially Auckland? It was for the scum that couldn't be held in other prisons or were really fucking dangerous."

"Speaking of which, how did you rate Auckland?"

Tom laughed a harsh laugh. "Because of me. My father was an Admiral. I was a poster boy for the Fed, and I was caught running guns for you. They threw the fucking book at me. Hell, I think they filed charges against me for being out of uniform when they caught me."

"I didn't know that."

"Like you actually cared? Chak, I know you had a ship to worry about, but you left my ass out to dry."

"No," Chakotay said calmly. "You weren't the only one they were chasing, Tom. I agree with your assessment of the situation though, with one exception, you weren't set up. We were set up. The Feds went after you and the Cardie's came after us."

"What?"

"Yes, Tom. Right after you were picked up, we had four Cardie war ships appear on our sensors. We were doing good just to stay alive for three weeks. By then, you had been sentenced. We couldn't have gotten you out even if we had wanted to."

"And you sure didn't want to, right?"

"Actually, I thought about it. Until Seska pointed out that it was probably a scam to draw us in. They wouldn't throw an Admiral's son in Auckland."

"They did."

They both sighed.

"Seska was such a bitch," Tom said.

"Tell me," Chakotay replied.