Disclaimer: Children, what are you doing in here? Get out of here! It features angst, entertaining graphic sexual descriptions of two men in love doing terribly erotic things to each other, and it's science fiction. If you don't like that sort of stuff, or know you are too young for it, go visit webvengeance.segasoft.com and you can shoot up somebody else's page. Now, go play. Oh, and I don't own any of these characters. I'm just borrowing them for a little storytelling. They are all owned by Paramount, and they wouldn't have anything to do with this sort of thing if I paid them. And I don't have any money. I do, however, have an overactive sexual imagination and a good grasp of how to drive a plot home. Oh, dear, that didn't come out quite right . . . oh, well.
Send comments to the address above. I am a naughty person, and I will continue to be so until I die. Oh, look, Tom and Chakotay finally stop fighting the inevitable and actually get together in this story! And it only took five revisions.
“Would you walk?” said the wolf.
“Yes,” answered Chakotay. “My heart has been heavy as of late, and I cannot find peace.”
“Look around you,” said the wolf.
There was something wrong in the forest of the spirits as well. The song of the birds seemed shriller today, and Chakotay decided to investigate. The wolf accompanied him, offering no guidance, but patient companionship.
As Chakotay walked, he realized that there was a voice missing from the chorus of birds; the sweet voiced sparrow that sang constantly was now silent. Urgency filled Chakotay’s steps as he hurried toward the place where he had once seen the tiny sparrow’s nest in his many wanderings through the spirit world. As he got closer, he could hear an occasional faint trill, as if the sparrow were trying to call for help without attracting the attention of predators.
Chakotay slowly approached a dark hedge, following the sound. He could see the sparrow’s nest in a tree not too far away. It was empty and cold. From somewhere within the thorny hedge, Chakotay could hear the sparrow cry out again. There was blood on some of the leaves. Either the sparrow had been injured when it had entered the hedge, or it had hurt itself trying to take refuge from some threat. And possibly both, he thought.
Chakotay slowly worked open a passage in the hedge with his hands, ignoring all the cuts he received as minor. He was trying not to frighten the little bird, so that he could free it rather than let it work itself deeper into the treacherous bush. It took a long time, but finally he held the trembling little bird in his hands, and drew it out of the bush.
In the dying light, he could see that the sparrow was grievously injured, and not just from the thorns of the bush. One wing was twisted oddly, it was covered in scratches from the thorns and deeper cuts from some predator, and more feathers were missing than could be accounted for by anything other than malice. Its bright eyes were wide with fear, but it stayed trembling in the cradle of Chakotay’s hands rather than risk more pain by trying to fly away.
Chakotay knelt to show the sparrow to his wolf, seeking to share his outrage. “Who would do this?”
The wolf sighed. “Look around you.”
The Doctor calmly injected Tom as soon as he was done washing his face after a final bout of retching.
“I feel less miserable today, if you care.”
“Believe me, I care. I’m actually quite pleased with your progress. Although I confess, I am somewhat worried about the effects of the rehabilitation program on the social life of the ship.”
“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything weird lately.”
“Correction: you haven’t done anything at all lately. All of your friends have been wondering where you are. And there isn’t anything to bet on in Sandrine’s without your hustling, as Ensign Pan pointed out.”
“Gee, I’ve been neglecting my public,” Tom smirked, then became serious again. “I can’t help it, Doc. The drugs suck all my energy, and I can barely stay awake unless I’m on the bridge.”
The Doctor smiled sadly. “Such are the wages of sin, Mr. Paris.” He scanned Tom again. “You’re ready for bridge duty now, and I expect to see you again at 2100 for another round.”
“I’ll be here.” Tom sighed, and began cleaning up. He was almost done when someone entered Sickbay. Tom looked up, and froze.
Chakotay was cradling his bloody left arm and smiling wryly. “Oh, hello, Paris. I bet you’re wondering what happened.”
“Uh, yeah.” Tom recovered from his shock and led the First Officer over to a biobed and began helping the Doctor.
“Well, enlighten us, Mr. Chakotay.” The Doctor had a good sense for impending gossip. “How did you acquire that lovely gash in your arm?”
“Well, you know that Ensign Balcameda and Crewman Tangle have been having difficulties?”
“Mmm hmmm,” said the Doctor eagerly while he repaired Chakotay’s arm. “What did you do, get between them?”
“I’m the First Officer, I have every right to tell them to keep their personal lives at home. So I did. And Crewman Tangle threw a table at me.”
The Doctor stared. Gossip jackpot! “He didn’t! What happened?”
“I caught it, and had him sent to the brig. Then Crewman Balcameda stabbed me.”
“Stabbed? Go on,” urged the Doctor. “I want the whole sordid story.”
“Sorry, Doc. I threw her in the brig too, but I’m sure someone else will be along to relate the sordid bits word for word. I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying.”
“Mmm hmm,” said the Doctor thoughtfully. “You can go now, the damage was minor. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Paris.”
Tom had been silently listening while helping the Doctor. “You’re welcome.”
“Going to the bridge, Paris?” asked Chakotay.
“Yeah.” Tom wasn’t feeling communicative. He was waiting for the drugs to kick in, and trying not to think about what Crewman Balcameda had probably been saying. He had a pretty good idea that it had to do with her past relationship with Chakotay while they were still Maquis. Thinking about it was causing unpleasant emotions to run through his head, and he didn’t think he could handle jealousy and withdrawal at the same time.
“We can keep each other company.”
“Sure.” Or I could run off screaming, thought Tom.
They walked together in strained silence to the turbolift. “Bridge.” It started moving. “You know,” Chakotay said calmly, “that was kind of ironic.”
“What?”
“I had been planning to spend some free time trying to track you down, to see if you were all right, and offer help if you needed it. Instead, I find you in Sickbay, and you end up helping me.”
Tom looked at Chakotay, noted the amusement in his dark eyes. “Okay, that is ironic.” Too bad there aren’t any better reasons for you to come looking for me, he thought.
“Well, now that I know where you are, is there anything wrong?”
“No,” Tom shook his head, “nothing you can fix.” Tom looked quickly at Chakotay, and then at the control panel when he realized that Chakotay was staring at him. What did I say, he wondered.
“Jeanette said that to me too.” No response. “I can tell there’s something wrong with you, Paris. You aren’t talking. You always talk up a storm, and you haven’t been your usual smartassed self for months now. This isn’t just about that incident in the parallel continuum, is it?”
“No, sir,” said Tom softly. Damn, the man was just too good at his job.
“Well, I don’t want to press you, but if you want to talk, I’ll be glad to listen.” The turbolift stopped, and the two exited. “Anytime you’re ready, Paris.”
Bridge duty was exceptionally dull today, just floating through empty space finding useless system after useless system. Tom found the boredom to be a major strain on his nerves since he was trying to think of anything other than the First Officer’s eyes boring into the back of his head. Every time he let his mind wander, he could imagine the warmth of Chakotay’s lips over his, and the masculine hardness of his body, the silken caress of his voice breaking as he said goodbye...
“Tom!” Harry’s voice brought him blushing back to reality. “Shift’s over, c’mon, let’s go get some food.”
“Okay,” said Tom numbly. Had anyone noticed his slight detour into fantasy? He glanced quickly at Harry, who was only whistling impatiently, and then at Chakotay, who was staring at him. Tom blushed even harder, and let Harry drag him to the mess hall for dinner.
B’Elanna joined them about halfway through the meal, and the three groused about the purple-yellow leola root muck that Neelix was serving today. Tom had a lot of catching up to do, and Harry and B’Elanna eagerly filled him in on the latest gossip.
They were laughing over B’Elanna’s story of the latest engineering mishap when Tom felt the world tilt crazily for a moment, and his stomach cramped. He doubled over, gasping with pain.
“Tom? Tom, are you okay?” cried B’Elanna.
“What time is it?” asked Tom calmly, trying not to react when his stomach cramped again. Of course, he couldn’t keep his friends from seeing his face go pinched and white with pain.
“2030,” answered Harry. “Do you want us to walk you to Sickbay? You’re not going to your quarters like this.”
Tom shook his head. “I can make it to Sickbay. I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to reassure them, and ran out of the mess hall. He knew it was a reaction from the drugs, but he didn’t know why. He made it halfway down the corridor when another cramp hit him, and he curled up against the cool walls of the passageway, waiting for it to go away.
Chakotay turned the corner, in time to see Tom stagger to his feet, pale and shaking. “Paris!” He rushed up, and slid a supporting arm around Tom, who settled into his grasp, too weak to protest. “What’s wrong?” Tom didn’t answer. “I’m taking you to Sickbay.”
Tom merely nodded, trying to figure out what had happened. Harry and B’Elanna emerged from the mess hall, still worrying about Tom, and immediately offered their help. Harry and Chakotay ended up carrying Tom into Sickbay, while B’Elanna got the doors and Tom’s feet whenever necessary.
Tom faded in and out of consciousness, but was awake to hear the Doctor ask what they had eaten for dinner. “Fermented yarsnop and mashed leola root,” answered Harry, and Tom thought, I was right, I didn’t do anything wrong.
The Doctor kept Tom in Sickbay overnight, and excused him from duty the following day. Tom was cranky from losing his breakfast to a final bout of adverse reactions to the fermented yarsnop from the alcohol inhibitors. “Doc, I am so sick of this.”
“Don’t lose heart, Mr. Paris. You’re making excellent progress! I’m going to lower your dosages and send you back to your quarters to get some more sleep.”
Tom stuck out his tongue in response. “I don’t need sleep! I’m not tired!”
“Well, get some anyway. And I’m also going to recommend a heavy dose of socializing. I’ve asked Mr. Kim and Ms. Torres to make a point of spending some quality time with you today, since you’re going to be stuck in your quarters for the better part of the day. Mr. Chakotay also expressed a desire to check in on you later, and I told him that it was entirely up to you.”
“Did you tell them?” asked Tom nervously.
“Of course not. I will only tell the Captain, if I think your illness is affecting your performance and endangering the lives of the crew.” The Doctor smiled benignly. “I’m on your side, Mr. Paris. You came to me and asked for my help.”
If you only knew, thought Tom bitterly.
Tom had settled himself comfortably on the couch in his room, making a comfortable little nest on his favorite corner of the couch with two blankets and five pillows, waiting for Harry and B’Elanna to come visit for lunch. They were going to watch Klingon soap operas while they ate.
“We brought replicator rations,” said Harry brightly.
“Yeah, no more allergic reactions for you,” added B’Elanna. “Wow, I haven’t in the Paris Playroom for a long time. When did you clean?” she asked as she took in the spotless room.
Tom groaned. “I didn’t clean! Jeanette did it!” and threw out all my drugs and most of the alcohol while she was at it, he added silently. “She’s worse than my mother.”
“Well, she must have been bored. I thought she was napping, so I left her alone here.” said Harry.
The familiar music started. The warrior’s hand appeared on the screen, and then slowly drew a blade across his palm, and then held out a bloody fist as the voiceover intoned: “Like blood from a stroke of honor, so are the Days of Our House.”
“Hey, Kardeth has discovered the identity of the assassin!” cried B’Elanna, suddenly noticing the turn of events unfolding on the viewscreen. She plopped down on the couch next to Tom’s little nest of blankets and pillows. “Harry, get me a cheeseburger and fries. I don’t want to miss this.”
Harry rolled his eyes. He still hadn’t gotten into Klingon soap opera; the characters and plots were just too hard to follow. “What do you want, Tom?”
“Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“What is it with you two and cheese?” muttered Harry. He called up their lunches, and got himself some chicken with brown curry and white rice. Then they all sat down to watch Kardeth avenge the death of the Warlord Do’kan. Harry sang along with the music, for lack of anything better to do. He liked Klingon music and had a passion for the martial strains of Klingon opera.
Finally, the narrator appeared to summarize the day’s events on the show, and give foreshadowing for the next episode. Harry and B’Elanna quickly cleaned up, since they were back on duty in about ten minutes.
“Thanks for stopping by,” said Tom. He felt a lot better. He’d kept his lunch down. He’d had fun watching the show, especially listening to B’Elanna swear at the villains and cheer on Kardeth, De’kal, and Princess Tekara, and of course, listening to Harry sing. It was a warm cozy feeling, and he was glad that the Doctor had sent them over. And of course, he had the day off.
“Well, we’ll probably come back later. Like around dinnertime, if you want us to.” With that, B’Elanna hurried out the door.
“Sure.”
“We’ll call first,” promised Harry, and then he took off as well.
Tom sighed and rifled through his music collection, trying to find something to match his mood. Finally, he decided to hit Sandrine’s. The crew definitely needed a diversion, if they were reduced to beating on Chakotay. Tom took his medications, got dressed, grabbed his lucky pool cue, and headed out.
Everything started out just fine. Tom walked into the holodeck, and was quickly invited to join a game of pool with some other crewmembers. The game went on for a while, and by the time Harry and B’Elanna walked up to him, Tom was playing two tables, and the bets were flying at Warp Seven.
“Damn, Paris,” snarled one of Tom’s opponents. His name was Whiteman, and he was a former Maquis. “I wish I knew how you did that,” he said after one fine shot.
Tom just grinned, and lined up his next shot.
“So, what have you been doing all this time? Practicing?”
Tom ignored him and sank the three ball. He lined up again, and Whiteman kept talking.
“You didn’t start seeing anyone, did you? You’re supposed to be saving yourself for me,” he grinned. Tom shot the ex-Maquis soldier a dark look, and went back to concentrating on the game. “Aw, c’mon, Paris, you don’t want me to pine away with wanting, do you?”
“Shut up, Whiteman,” snapped B’Elanna.
Whiteman gave B’Elanna an expressive look, then turned back to Tom, who had made another shot and was silently surveying the table looking for another prospect. “So, Paris, who’s beat me out in the race for your heart?”
Tom remained silent, but those close enough could see an angry red flush start to creep up his neck.
“So I’m barely good enough for a one night stand, but not enough to be trusted, is that it, Paris?”
“We didn’t have a one night stand, you fucker.” The words escaped Paris without his consent, and he blushed even brighter than before. He shook his head with a sigh, and made yet another shot.
“Looks like I’m losing,” smiled Whiteman. “That’s okay, I didn’t want damaged goods anyway.”
Everyone saw Tom turn, bringing up his pool cue to hit Whiteman across the face, but only Harry remembered that the pool cue was real, and that the holodeck’s safety protocols wouldn’t save him. “Tom! Don’t!” -but he was too late.
The wooden stick connected with a loud crack, followed by the crunching of human bone, and Whiteman fell to the floor. Tom was left holding one half of his precious cue.
“You son of a bitch!” screamed someone, and moved to hit Tom, who was standing very still and breathing shallowly over Whiteman’s body. B’Elanna moved to intercept, and Harry called security before going to help B’Elanna.
The fight was brief, and bloody. No one noticed Tom, the source of the conflict, sink to his knees by the pool table, or gather the two halves of his pool cue before curling into a ball under the table.
“Where the hell is Paris?” snarled Chakotay. The security team had just finished bundling away most of the people in Sandrine’s. The last security officer shrugged, and went to help the medical team take Whiteman to Sickbay. Chakotay deactivated the program, and only the sudden gasp alerted him to Tom’s presence. “There you are.” Chakotay walked over to where Tom was still huddled in the center of the room. “What are you--” he stopped, midsentence, taking in the unseeing pupils dilated in Tom’s pale face, the hoarse shallow breaths. “Paris, you’re in shock. Paris?” Chakotay tapped his communicator. “Chakotay here. Emergency transport for two to Sickbay.”
The Doctor wandered over. “Ah, another patient. How exciting.” He scanned Tom quickly, and then gave him a sedative. “Thank you, Commander. He’ll be out until morning. Will that be all?”
“Do you have any idea what happened?” demanded Chakotay. “Why would Paris attack Whiteman?”
The Doctor tightened his lips. “I am not in a position to discuss that with you. I will make a full report to the Captain as soon as possible. If you will excuse me, Commander?”
Chakotay finally left, his reluctance to leave finally overcome by his embarrassment at finding himself hovering over Tom Paris.
Tom slept dreamlessly under the influence of the sedative, and awoke to find the Doctor standing over him. “How are you, Mr. Paris?”
The memories of the night before flooded back to him. “Oh shit.” He stared at the hologram, who was looking at him sympathetically.
“We have to talk, Mr. Paris, and I suspect that the Captain will have to sit in on this one.”
Tom’s heart sank. “Oh fuck.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t you freshen up while I let the Captain know you’re ready?”
Tom slid off the biobed and went to the refresher. Nice move, Tom. Well done, he congratulated himself. I’ll probably never fly Voyager again.
After a thorough exam and another bout of medication, the Doctor led Tom into his office to wait for the Captain. “I’m going to talk to her alone first, and then we’ll talk to you. I’ll try to make her understand the entire situation, but I don’t think it looks good.”
Tom nodded. Maybe they’d put him off the ship. There were lots of aliens who could use a skilled pilot. Similar dark thoughts filled Tom’s head until the door opened and Janeway walked in alone. Her face was as dark and troubled as Tom’s thoughts.
“Was there a reason you never told me that one of my crewman sexually assaulted another?”
“I was drunk,” said Tom lamely. “If I told you about Whiteman, I would have had to tell you about the drinking.” Tom tried to search her eyes, but the bulkheads would have told him more. His eyes dropped back to the table. Maybe he’d spend the rest of the trip in the brig.
“Well, at least you have that problem under control. The Doctor tells me you’re making progress in the rehabilitation program.”
“Yes, ma’am.” That was all Tom could bring himself to say.
“Did you have anything to drink last night?”
Tom’s head snapped up in shock. “No, ma’am!”
The Captain nodded. “Nothing else?”
“All I had was water, ma’am.”
“You’ll spend two weeks in the brig, and ten more confined to quarters when you’re not on duty or with the Doctor.” It was a light sentence, but Janeway needed her pilot. She also wanted to keep control of her crew, which meant she needed to get Paris back in the swing of things as soon as possible. “I’m going to assign Chakotay to be your parole officer. You’ll get in less trouble with a member of the senior staff at your side.”
“Not Chakotay,” Tom gasped.
“This is punishment, remember?” snarled Janeway. “As soon as the Doctor releases you, a security team will escort you to the brig.”
Tom straightened up. He could take it. Twelve weeks of hell was nothing compared to the lifetime he was currently suffering. At least this punishment had an expiration date. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And Paris?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I wish you’d trusted me before it came to this.”
Tom dropped his eyes, and took a small breath. “I- I’m sorry, Captain.”
Janeway nodded in dismissal, and turned quickly on her heels and left Sickbay.
*.*
The Captain had no illusions about how Chakotay would react to her plan, so she waited until Tom’s incarceration was almost over before telling him. “Tom gets released from the brig today. I want you to go down there and escort him to his quarters.”
“Of course, Captain,” said Chakotay calmly.
“And you will help him keep his parole.”
“You want me to babysit Paris?” he almost snarled.
Janeway relaxed into her seat, causing Chakotay to stand a little straighter in response. Janeway only relaxed in her ready room when she was alone or about to strike. “Yes, Commander. Your attitude toward Paris is part of the problem here. You freely admit that you owe him your life, but you treat him like dirt, and a large part of the crew - your Maquis followers - take their cues from you.”
Chakotay was stunned. It was true. “You’re right, Captain. But what do you expect to gain from forcing me and Paris together?”
“I expect you to figure out that he’s a human being, and treat him accordingly.”
“Captain?”
Janeway sighed. “Somehow Paris got stuck with the job of ship’s pariah, and I won’t have it. I will not sit idly on my throne and watch my crew be torn apart. You will do your best to keep Tom out of trouble. If it really turns out to be too much for you, just let me know, and I’ll commute his sentence.” Secretly, she knew that Chakotay would rather dance naked in the mess hall than let anyone, especially Tom, get away with wreaking havoc. “Just try your best, Chakotay. You might like it.”
Chakotay snorted. “I’ll do it, Captain, but I won’t like it.”
“Listen to yourself,” she chided. “Give him half a chance. He’s actually a lot of fun to hang out with.”
Chakotay gritted his teeth at the mention of Paris and fun in the same sentence. The boy was nothing but trouble. He accepted his charge with the best grace he could muster, collected the rest of the day’s work and walked down to the brig to pick up Paris.
“He’s all yours, Commander,” said Ensign Kagawa as he handed Tom over.
Chakotay nodded silently to Kagawa, and gestured Paris towards the door. Tom took a deep breath as soon as he left the holding cell, and walked out, lightly humming “Free at last” under his breath.
“So, Commander, where are we off to?” asked Tom breezily.
Chakotay gritted his teeth. “I have some reports to do. We can either go to your quarters or mine.”
“How romantic!” said Tom gleefully. “Why don’t we go to mine, so I can see how much cleaning I have to do.”
Chakotay shrugged. “Whatever, Paris.” He signed off on the appropriate transfers, and followed Tom down to the turbolift. “So, Paris, when I asked you if you needed any help, did you even consider it?”
Tom twisted a finger in his hair, which was starting to grow out. “Actually, I did.” But then my common sense returned, he added silently. “But I never got around to it.”
Chakotay didn’t reply, and Tom filled the silence by chatting about how dull the brig was, being visited by Harry and B’Elanna, and how much he wanted to fly Voyager again. By the time they got to Tom’s quarters, Chakotay was ready to strangle the young pilot to shut him up.
The door swooshed open, and Tom wasn’t particularly surprised to see that his room had been broken into and taken apart. Chakotay gasped at the mess. “What the hell happened here?”
“Oh, c’mon, Commander. You didn’t really think anybody would take two weeks in the brig to be sufficient punishment?” grinned Tom, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I expect to find it like this at least three more times, two if people decide that being forced to spend time with you is punishment enough.”
Chakotay surveyed the room in stunned silence. “Wrong, Paris. This is not going to happen again.”
Tom shook his head at Chakotay’s determination. “Well, now that you’re on the job, maybe not.” He entered his quarters, and looked into his bedroom. “I’m glad I had time to ask Harry to put my 2D’s away. Those are a bitch to replace.”
Chakotay grabbed Tom by the shoulders and spun him around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tom froze, but managed to retain his self-control, and only took one shuddering breath before he broke into another one of those irritating half-smiles. “It means that the replicator just can’t handle requests to make two-dimensional images without freaking out.”
Chakotay closed his eyes, but didn’t remove his hands, and counted to ten in his head before speaking again. “I meant, - never mind what I meant, Paris.” He let go of Tom’s shoulders and stepped away, noting that Tom relaxed almost instantly. “Let me help you clean this up.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do,” Chakotay disagreed. “There’s nowhere to sit.”
Tom looked around. “Good point.”
They began straightening the room in companionable silence. Chakotay made a real effort not to be irritated by Tom’s constant chatter, and soon found himself actually laughing at some of his fairly witty remarks. He didn’t realize where Tom had focused his efforts until the couch reappeared.
“Have a seat,” commanded Tom.
“No,” said Chakotay. “That’s all right. I’ll be fine,” he said, shifting a rather heavy vid storage unit back into place.
“It’s my room, I’ll clean it. Besides, didn’t you say you had work to do?”
Chakotay realized that Tom was trying his best to be polite, and that it was probably embarrassing the young pilot to have someone who was essentially a complete stranger going through all his things. “All right, you talked me into it.” Chakotay made himself comfortable, and Tom continued to clean.
Tom was different in his room, Chakotay decided. Not as defensive, more comfortable with himself, even when his room had been violated. Chakotay allowed himself to relax a little. He watched Tom fuss over the placement of alien artifacts and other objets d’art on the tables. The room was nicely coordinated, with colors and shapes that were both comfortable and pleasing to the eye. If he was going to be forced to spend time with Paris, he could imagine worse places to be. Maybe he could even take the Captain’s advice, and get to know Lieutenant Paris a little better.
Harry hated it when people talked as though he wasn’t there. He was running a local diagnostic on the Level 5 computer relays, and farther down the corridor, there were three crewmembers replacing some damaged paneling and gossiping about Tom and Chakotay as if no one could hear them, let alone Tom’s best friend.
“Man, Chakotay is spending all his time with Paris. It’s sickening.” Harry silently agreed.
“He has to! Janeway assigned him to be Paris’ parole officer. You don’t think he likes being with Paris, do you?” Harry doubted it very much, but he knew Tom was having the time of his life.
“Actually, I do. I mean, he spends all his time with Paris. All his time.” Don’t I know it, thought Harry to himself.
“Oh, c’mon.”
“They’re always in Paris’ room, alone. Chakotay barely stops by his quarters anymore.”
“So help me, if you try to tell me they’re sleeping together, I’m going to throw up all over this circuit board.”
Harry shook his head. He could only hope they were wrong about Tom and Chakotay...
*.*
Chakotay walked into Tom’s quarters, which had rapidly become his second home in the past few weeks. Not only was Tom the perfect host, but he seemed perfectly happy, even eager, to spend time with Chakotay. Tom’s friendliness was hard to resist, not that Chakotay tried very hard. “I’m back. Cause any trouble while I was gone?” His hands were behind his back, as if he were holding something.
“Lots!” answered Tom cheerfully from his customary nest on the couch. “Did you bring me something from the planet?”
“What? Oh, just some chocolates and some artwork. And the Doctor sent along some medication for you, so you don’t have to go all the way down to Sickbay.” Surprised, as if he’d forgotten them, Chakotay handed over his presents and the package.
Tom tossed the medicine over the back of the couch to be ignored until absolutely necessary, since he was almost done with his substance abuse program, and ripped open the box of chocolates instead. “Yummy,” he exclaimed as he popped one in his mouth. “Want one?” he offered.
“Sure, thanks.” Chakotay clearly wasn’t focusing on the chocolate, but ate one anyway.
Tom unwrapped his present, revealing the small figurines that Chakotay had brought him. “What do these represent?”
“It’s a series of the local gods; Storm, Fire, and Love. Tom-” Tom stopped, with a chocolate halfway to his mouth, and stared at Chakotay. “What?”
“You called me by my name. You almost never call me by my name.”
Chakotay considered. “Do you not want me to?”
Tom sat up. “Oh, no, I like it. Actually, I really like it.” He smiled sweetly and finished eating the chocolate he was holding. “They’re really nice. Thank you, Chakotay. Anyway, what were you going to say before I so rudely interrupted you?”
“Tom, would you like to go out sometime? After your parole is over, of course.”
“Go out? Like on a date?”
“Yeah.”
Tom looked up in shock at the big man standing over him. “Are you out of your mind?”
Chakotay grabbed and ate another chocolate before daring to look at Tom. “What? Is that a ‘no?’”
“Chakotay, we can’t date. The Maquis would revolt! The Captain would have our heads - all of them! The Doctor would decompile!”
Chakotay laughed at the look in Tom’s brilliant blue eyes. “So, that’s a ‘yes,’ then, underneath all the hysterical terror.”
“B’Elanna will think it’s some sort of twisted trick to get her back. Harry’s head will explode from holding in all his distaste.”
“I think Harry and B’Elanna have better things to do. And how will you feel, Tom? Just answer that.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. This is some kind of joke, right?”
The fear in Tom’s voice brought the feelings that had been haunting Chakotay for the last few days fully alive. He bent down and kissed Tom soundly on the lips. “Does this feel like I’m kidding?” He looked into Tom’s beautiful blue eyes for approval, and finding it, kissed him again, and this time Tom kissed back, until Chakotay felt like he was drowning in Tom’s mastery of his lips.
Tom reached up to pull Chakotay down over him. The two sank into the couch, their bodies straining against each other.
“I want you, Tom.” He could barely get the words out.
“Since when?” Tom demanded between raining light kisses all over Chakotay’s neck.
“What?” Chakotay didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to lose himself in the beautiful body beneath him.
“How long have you wanted me? Or did you just decide this today, that I was irresistible, all tucked up in my blankets?”
“Do I have to tell you now?” moaned Chakotay. He bent to kiss Tom again. “I’ve wanted you since you joined the Maquis. And again when I saw you at your sentencing. And again when I saw you on Voyager.”
Tom stared at Chakotay. “You never did anything. I thought you hated me. I didn’t think I was good enough to be in the -”
“Don’t say it, please. I’m trying to kill that stupid phrase, but everyone keeps throwing it at me,” Chakotay groaned.
Tom grinned. “Well, you started it.”
The door chimed, announcing another visitor. Tom waited until Chakotay stood up again, reluctantly pulling away from Tom’s body, before calling out, “Come in!”
Harry walked in. “Hello, Commander, Tom. I was just stopping by to visit.”
Chakotay smiled politely. “I’m going down to see the Captain. I’ll be back for dinner. Remember the rules,” he smiled at Tom, who nodded in reply, and then left the room.
“Hey, Harry. What’s up?”
“Tom, this little game of yours has got to stop,” Harry burst out.
Tom smiled, but sat up a little straighter. “What are you talking about, Harry?”
“Playing ‘house’ with Chakotay.”
The smile faded from Tom’s eyes. “I am not-”
“The hell you’re not! What were you two doing before I walked in?”
“He’s supposed to be watching over me, Harry. I’m restricted to my room and the bridge. Of course he’s going to be in my room a lot!”
Harry grabbed a chair and sat down right in front of Tom. “Answer my question. What were you doing before I walked in?”
Tom blushed, adding to the bruised lips he already had to confirm Harry’s suspicions. “Harry, I like Chakotay. I didn’t seduce him or anything-”
“No, of course not. You were just yourself. An attractive, sexually experienced, interested person within arm’s reach of that horny bastard. And frankly, even if he proposed to you, everyone else will still believe you seduced him for your own reasons. Tom, of all the mistakes you have ever made, sleeping with Chakotay-”
“I haven’t slept with him,” Tom protested.
“Then don’t do it, Tom. I mean it, he’s nothing but trouble for you. Or anybody else! And you have enough trouble as it is.”
Tom sighed, and sank back into the couch. “Aw, Harry, we just started being friends. He doesn’t hate me anymore.”
“Good. Then you can explain to him why sleeping with a superior officer is a bad idea for anyone on this ship, especially anyone with the last name of Paris.”
Tom knew that Harry meant well, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be saved from this particular mortal peril. But he knew that Harry was trying to save him from making a really terrible mistake. “Okay, Harry. You and your morals have a point. I’ll talk to him about it.”
“It’s not just my morals, Tom. I really care about you, and the scuttlebutt has me worried.”
Tom frowned. “They’re talking about us already? Damn, gossip does move at Warp 10.” Tom tried to resist, but failed. “What are they saying?”
With a sigh and the hope that Tom wouldn’t do anything too stupid, Harry filled him in on the latest crop of speculations concerning Chakotay and his newfound tolerance for Tom Paris. The fact that Whiteman had recovered enough to tell the story of what he’d done with a drunk Tom Paris wasn’t helping, either.
“So,” said Tom softly, “yet another black mark for my reputation. How will I ever live this down,” he grinned wryly.
Harry smiled with him. “Yeah, your parents will never forgive you.” They both burst into laughter only slightly tinged with bitterness at the joke. “Are you allowed to have more than one visitor at a time?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never asked. Why?”
“We are so behind in our opera. B’Elanna gets off her shift in twenty minutes. We could watch a chapter or two.”
Tom considered. Chakotay wouldn’t be done talking to the Captain until 1930, which would give them three hours, enough time to view two chapters before Chakotay returned. “I’ll risk it.”
“Great!” Harry commed B’Elanna. “B’El, bring some replicator rations to the Paris Playroom. We’re going to finally see how Kardeth handles the assassin.”
“Yay!” was B’Elanna’s only reply.
Chakotay returned to a dark room, with Tom, Harry, and B’Elanna huddled on the couch, engrossed in the activities on the screen. “Hi.”
“Shh,” snapped B’Elanna, “Princess Tekara is about to enter combat.”
Chakotay wondered if this was Tom’s way of shutting him out after their talk earlier. He walked into the bedroom, and made himself comfortable on the bed while he waited for the show to end.
He looked around the comfortable little room. It wasn’t quite a home, but it was certainly a pleasant place to stay while you were waiting to get there. It was neat, not something Chakotay would have expected from the carefree flyboy he had once considered Tom Paris to be.
Just looking around, seeing the old-fashioned 2D pictures on the desk, the carefully displayed crystal vases and handmade pottery from all over the galaxy, the neatly arranged padds, the cozy sheets on the bed, seeing all this told him more about Tom than all the time on Voyager that they had spent together. And this was why Chakotay wanted to start a relationship with Tom Paris. He wanted a home, not another lover and certainly not more sex. Seventy years was too long to be alone.
Tom had seemed interested earlier. He’d set the three figurines that Chakotay had given him in the center of his coffee table, surrounded by dried Terran flowers from his collection.
Chakotay decided he had to at least give it a try. He wouldn’t just give up without ever knowing if it could have worked for them. Besides, he’d already talked the Captain into commuting his sentence at the end of the week, so that wasn’t a problem anymore. Chakotay pulled out his padds and tried to work while he waited.
“Okay, Tom, I’ll bite,” whispered B’Elanna. “Why is Chakotay hiding out in your bedroom?”
“He has to work. Where else can he go?” said Tom, as if having the ship’s Commander in one’s bedroom was normal to him.
“His own quarters?” snapped Harry, not quietly at all. “I know he’s supposed to be keeping your parole, but why does he have to be here all the time?”
“I don’t know,” Tom snapped back at him. “Maybe he likes it here. You like it here.”
“I’m your friend,” Harry pointed out unnecessarily.
“Shut up and watch the show, both of you,” admonished B’Elanna. “And be quiet.”
Chakotay overheard every word, and wondered what to make of that little scene, if anything at all. Finally, the episode ended, with Kardeth succumbing to madness and Princess Tekara about to marry a traitor to the Empire.
“Well, we’ll see you tomorrow,” said Harry. “Are you leaving too, Commander?”
“No,” Chakotay replied, refusing to be baited. “I’m going to talk over some things with Tom before I turn in.” Chakotay indulged himself by mentally applauding his clever wording when he saw the look on the faces of Harry and B’Elanna.
“Right,” said B’Elanna, “let’s go, Harry.” She pulled him off the couch and led him out of the room. “G’night, Tom. G’night, Chakotay.”
Tom turned to Chakotay. “We need to talk.”
Chakotay sat down on the couch next to Tom. “You’re right. Let’s talk.” He gazed calmly at Tom.
Tom pulled away, and fidgeted a little. “Uh, you go first.”
“Okay.” Chakotay reached out his hand to Tom, who stared at it.
“What?” He looked adorably confused, pouting just a little, and his blue eyes were bright.
Chakotay dropped his hand back to his lap. “You kissed me earlier today, and now you won’t even touch me. What happened?”
Tom squirmed under the directness of Chakotay’s gaze. He didn’t respond with any of the flippant remarks that Chakotay expected. Instead, he picked up one of the statuettes that Chakotay had brought him, and started turning it over in his hands. “I thought it over, and I think dating you would be a bad idea.”
“You think? Are you sure? Did you realize this before or after you had a talk with Harry?”
Tom’s fingers clutched the statute reflexively. “C’mon, Chakotay. That’s not fair. You know it’s a dumb idea.”
Chakotay leaned back on the couch, so that he could see all of Tom’s face. Then he reached out again, and laid his hand over Tom’s. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks about it, Tom, I want to be with you. I want to spend time with you.”
“Time?” Tom laughed. “How much time are we talking here? Do I get to be March and April?” He pulled his hands away from Chakotay’s warmth. His eyes were cold and he didn’t look like he was enjoying the joke.
Chakotay reached out for him again. “I was thinking more along the lines of seventy years, give or take a wormhole.” This time, Tom let him hold on. Tom’s hands were cold. Chakotay pulled the beautiful young man closer, trying to warm him up. “Please, Tom, just give me a chance to change. Give us a chance.”
Tom let his talk with Harry fade to the back of his mind. He’d pay for it later, he was sure, but right now, he really wanted to give in to Chakotay’s warmth. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I’m not the world’s most stable person.”
“Oh,” said Chakotay, rolling his eyes, “and I’m such a prize.”
Tom laughed, “Actually, a lot of people would think you are. I’m one of them.”
“I know you’re not the uncaring playboy you pretend to be, and you’ve proved yourself to this ship over and over again,” Chakotay smiled. “And I admit it, I was wrong about you. I think part of me was trying to deny how I really felt about you.”
Tom took a deep, calming breath, but it didn’t help very much. In addition to the power of Chakotay’s words, they had shifted their bodies so that he was now reclining on Chakotay’s thigh, his head separated from Chakotay’s steadily hardening cock by mere inches of cozy blanket. “I’m not sure if all this is real or if I’m in another alternate universe,” he said shakily.
Chakotay laughed, and gently caressed the side of Tom’s face. “No, Tom, this is real. I can barely believe it myself, but it’s real.” He leaned down, and kissed Tom. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day!”
Tom smiled up at him. “Really? So did I.” He pulled Chakotay down to him again, trying to kiss the man senseless. When Tom kissed, his entire body carried the same message as his lips and his tongue. But the Commander kissed not just with his body, but with his soul, drinking in the taste and feel of Tom Paris. And Tom found himself responding to Chakotay’s openness, matching each soul-searing kiss with one of his own.
A slight beeping noise brought them back to their pale reality. “What is that?” demanded Chakotay. He leaned back, and found the source of the noise: the alarm on Tom’s medkit was going off.
“Damn,” growled Tom. “How unsexy. Pardon me while I go drug myself,” he snarled, and worked his way out of Chakotay’s arms.
“Actually,” said Chakotay calmly, “I was just about to suggest that we move to the bed anyway. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really think we can get too athletic on this couch, comfortable as it is.” Tom stared at him. Chakotay smiled back.
“You really want to keep doing this? It doesn’t bother you?”
“Tom, why would I stop now? Do you think it bothers me to know that you’re taking care of yourself?” Chakotay’s bafflement was real. Sometimes, Tom could get the weirdest ideas in his pretty head.
Tom shrugged, feeling a bit awkward about his insecurity. “Some people, you know...” he let his voice trail off. Chakotay continued to regard him warmly. “Uh, you know where the bed is. I’ll just be a second.” Tom dove into the bathroom without waiting to see if Chakotay was really going into the bedroom.
Chakotay smiled to himself as he sat down on the bed again. He looked up as Tom walked out of the bathroom, blushing like a teenager on his first date. Tom smiled shyly, and Chakotay decided he didn’t care how long it lasted, he was here with Tom now, and they were going to enjoy themselves. Chakotay smiled back at Tom, and patted the bed next to him. “I think you’d be more comfortable over here, don’t you?”
Tom grinned, and instead walked forward and placed his hands on Chakotay’s knees, and slowly knelt down in front of him. Tom looked at Chakotay’s crotch, where his erection was now straining against his uniform, and licked his lips. “No, I think I like it better right here, Chakotay.” There was something about the way Tom said his name, something deeper, something in his tone and his voice that made it more than just a designator, but a prayer and a promise. Chakotay moaned, and got even harder. Tom laughed a little, and bent his golden head down to kiss Chakotay’s left knee. “Somebody wants to come out and play, don’t they?” he murmured against Chakotay’s leg as he left a trail of careful kisses along the inside of his thigh, working his way up to the massive erection waiting for him.
“Do you need help with my uniform, or are you just going to tease me all night?” growled Chakotay hoarsely. Tom tilted his head to one side, as if he were trying to decide, and Chakotay took matters into his own hands by pulling off his jacket, revealing his powerfully muscled, broad, bronze chest.
Tom swallowed hard at the sight, and slowly opened Chakotay’s pants, needing to see more. “Mon Dieu,” Tom breathed softly as Chakotay’s erection sprang free. “No wonder everyone chases after you.” Like the rest of him, Chakotay’s cock was big, and wide, and Tom wanted it inside him more than he’d ever wanted anything before. He choked down his subconscious fears, and leaned over to kiss it, and rub the soft skin of his cheek against it.
Chakotay moaned in pleasure, and ran his hand through Tom’s golden hair. “What did you just say, in Standard?” asked Chakotay curiously. He tilted Tom’s head up, so that they could reach each other’s lips for a quick kiss.
“‘My God.’ Mon Dieu. Mon chéri - mon coeur -” Tom slipped the words into Chakotay’s mouth between kisses.
“What language is that?”
“It’s a dialect of Standard, French. Québécois, to be exact. Pourquoi, mon chéri?”
Chakotay laughed, and pulled Tom to his feet so that he could start pulling off Tom’s clothes. “Well, whatever you’re saying, it’s very, very sexy.” Tom slid up Chakotay’s body, the soft fabric of his uniform rubbing in erotic torture against Chakotay’s bare skin.
Tom laughed, and let himself be stripped. “In the old days, French was considered the language of love. La langue d’amour.” Chakotay kissed him again, and language faded before more primal needs. They slowly undressed each other, their clothes falling away like the walls of Jericho. Finally, Tom could see all of the man of his dreams; solid, dark, and real. Tom pressed himself up against Chakotay for a full-body kiss, wrapping his arms around the huge chest, rubbing their erections together.
“I-I- shouldn’t- we-” Chakotay lost his powers of speech under the influence of Tom’s next kiss, but his senses finally managed to make their protests heard. By that time, he was propped on his elbows over Tom, with both hands roaming all over Tom’s body, and he was nuzzling Tom’s neck. Tom was moaning softly in French, and had one hand entwined in Chakotay’s hair, and the other was pumping their cocks. Chakotay thrust harder into Tom’s slender hand, even as he acknowledged the truly precarious position he had somehow gotten into. He was supposed to be keeping Tom’s parole, not fucking him senseless.
Chakotay felt Tom’s body arch into his, and Tom came with a short strangled cry. The sound of Tom’s pleasure tipped Chakotay over the edge, and he came as well, covering Tom’s chest and groin. Tom shuddered, and sank bonelessly to the mattress, lazily trailing a hand along his stomach, through the pool of semen on his chest, up to his mouth. Chakotay watched in amazement as his body tried to respond to the erotic sight of Tom licking his fingers clean, looking for all the world like nothing more than a very satisfied cat. Chakotay groaned. He was too old for this. He rolled off to the side, and snuggled up to Tom.
“I asked the Captain to commute your sentence, by the way. You’re free at the end of the week,” Chakotay murmured into Tom’s ear. Tom laughed lightly, and pulled him closer without saying anything. Too tired to stay awake any longer, Chakotay drifted off to sleep, and so did Tom.
The wires dug into his skin, and with one harsh yank, Tom was lifted up and slammed back against the wall, his feet dangling a few centimeters away from the floor. “You’ll never do that again,” growled the guard, bleeding from the side of his mouth where Tom had hit him.
“No! Leave me alone!” Tom screamed at his nightmare, and then he realized that it was time to go. Little Tommy would call him back when it was safe.
“You’re safe, Tom, please stop screaming,” begged Chakotay.
Tom woke up to discover that he was standing in his own bedroom, pressed against the wall, with Chakotay gently holding him, whispering soothing words. He stopped screaming, trying not to think about all the times he’d been forced to do the things he had just done with so much pleasure. Was he always going to be like this?, he wondered. Poor Little Tommy, a basket case who couldn’t handle intimacy, and whose nightly terrors drove away all his lovers? He started to cry, despite his best efforts to hold it in.
Chakotay continued to hold Tom, not too tightly, and let him cry. Tom’s tears turned to sobs of relief when he realized that Chakotay was still there. He tried to straighten up, but instead fell into Chakotay’s warmth, and stayed huddled in his arms until the steady rhythm of Chakotay’s heart calmed him down enough to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Chakotay was baffled. Why on earth would Tom be apologizing? “Tom, let’s sit down.” He searched the tired blue eyes of his new lover. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” Tom sniffled. Chakotay handed him a handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me. You worried me. You were having a terrifying and vivid nightmare, and I didn’t know what to do to wake you.”
Tom laughed shakily. “I don’t know what to do either.”
“What was it about?”
Tom laughed, with a definite tinge of hysteria. “I have a vast repertoire of bad dreams and terrifying experiences to draw on!” Tears started to roll down Tom’s face again. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he whispered, in a voice so low Chakotay could barely hear him.
Chakotay wrapped Tom in his arms again. “You’re safe now, Tom, it’s all right.” Somehow, his words or his voice calmed Tom again, and Chakotay savored the feel of Tom resting comfortably against his chest. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
Panic shot through Tom. No matter how desperately he wanted to say yes, he couldn’t, not without sounding like a total basket case. He tried to pull away, to think, but Chakotay made a soft noise of protest, and Tom settled back into the nest of Chakotay’s strength.
Beneath his hands, Chakotay could feel Tom’s heart racing, and his breath start to come in short, ugly gasps. “It’s all right, Tom, I’ll stay as long as you need me. We can just sit, and talk.” A little panicked himself, Chakotay began to talk quickly, “When I was on Terra, a friend of mine took me for a sail on her yacht. She lived in Maine, and we took a quick jaunt around the harbor. You would have loved it; standing on the bow of the ship with the wind dancing in your hair was one of most wonderful experiences in my life.”
“It’s like flying.” The voice was small, and unexpected, but Chakotay took it as encouragement, and kept talking.
“Have you ever been sailing?”
“When I was in junior high school, I was too afraid to go on the boat with my parents. Finally, I talked myself into it, and it was like flying over the water. For a little while, it was like we were a real family, just us and the sky and the water.” Tom’s voice sounded dreamy and faraway.
“How did you convince yourself to try it?” asked Chakotay curiously.
Tom looked up into Chakotay’s dark eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. “I’m not sure. I went down to the docks with them, and instead of turning back, I just got on the boat. It was like breaking out of a cocoon, I just knew I was ready.”
Chakotay smiled, and hugged Tom closer. “That’s how I feel about you.” He planted a quick kiss on Tom’s lips. “That’s it exactly!”
Tom smiled wonderingly. “Really? You’re not just saying that to be annoyingly romantic?”
“Would that be so bad?” They both started laughing at that, and sat down on the bed. Chakotay pulled the covers up over Tom and himself, and they snuggled up to sleep, with Tom holding Chakotay like an overstuffed teddy bear. “No more bad dreams,” Chakotay commanded.
“Yes, sir,” said Tom mockingly, and drifted off to a relatively peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of sailing and the sky.
Next Episode: Playing Paris