Title: The Shattering of the Mask

Author/pseudonym: Morticia

Fandom: StarTrek Voyager AU

Pairing: Chakotay/Paris

Rating: NC17/BDSM

Archive: Anywhere, but let me know where

Feedback: Please!

E-mail for feedback pussy.willow@ntlworld.com

NC-17 Warning!! This is a dark, dark story. Major Tom angst alert. Rape, violence, BDSM … if you don't like it, don't read it …simple ain't it. Paramount is God, all good things are Paramount's. It's not my fault Paramount want to waste such talent on 'good' stories!

It had been a boring day at the helm. In fact, to tell the truth it had been a boring two weeks in Tom's opinion. They were flying through a particularly uneventful part of the Delta Quadrant. Seven had smugly reported from Astrometrics that no asteroids, meteors, M-class planets, sentient life forms, gaseous anomalies or interesting nebulas would be expected for the next six weeks. Tom was beginning to pray for the appearance of a new DQ nasty alien just to liven things up.

He made another completely unnecessary and miniscule course correction and started humming an Irish ditty under his breath, remembering, with a grin, his drunken antics last night at Fairhaven.

A throat cleared behind him and he could feel dark hostile eyes boring into his shoulder.

"Cut the sound effects, Paris," Chakotay snapped, irritated not so much by the pilot as the fact that Janeway had decided to take the week off, leaving him to fidget in boredom on the bridge.

Tom swiveled in his chair, his blue eyes flashing mischief, as a big shit-eating grin spread across his face

"Just entertaining the troops, Commander," he drawled.

"I’m not entertained, keep your mind on your job."

"An amoebae could be flying today, Commander and you wouldn’t notice. There’s NOTHING happening," Tom whined, in that voice that drilled through Chakotay and brought out the worst in the usually staid Commander.

"In that case, even your limited attention span should be able to cope," Chakotay said, his deceptively quiet voice overlaid with sarcasm.

At Ops, Harry ducked his head to hide a grin. As much as he liked Tom, he couldn’t help but feel glee whenever Tom and the Commander locked horns, which seemed to happen even more frequently of late. He wasn’t the naïve young ensign he had been when he first was swept off his feet by Tom’s charismatic charm and he no longer was impressed by Tom’s irreverence to authority.

In fact, Chakotay had taken him aside and pointed out how much damage his friendship with Tom was doing to his own career. He had protested that he had the right to choose his own friends but the talk had given him doubts and although he didn’t really want to admit it, he wasn’t that close to Tom anymore. Ever since Tom had been seeing B’Elanna, he had not needed Harry’s company except as a whipping boy.

Take last night at Fairhaven for example. Tom had spent the evening getting progressively more rowdy and drunk, taking the piss out of Harry’s love life (or lack, more like) just because B’Elanna and Tom had had yet another fight. Besides, the nearest he had come to getting laid in the last few months had been a holograph and he still hadn’t forgiven Tom for turning her into a cow!

"Voyager to Kim! Come in Mr. Kim."

Harry jumped in guilty confusion to see the Commander’s angry face inches from his own. He staggered in shock against the Ops console.

"Sorry Sir…I was…um…lost in thought, Sir. Sorry Sir," he stuttered, a deep blush staining his golden skin.

"It seems that Mr. Paris’s bad habits are catching, yet again."

Chakotay’s eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at Kim and then Paris, then making a decision he swung to Tuvok.

"Mr. Tuvok, since it is so BORING on the bridge today I think it is a good time for training exercises. Ask Ensigns Wildman and Baytart to cover Ops and the Helm for the rest of the shift."

Tuvok raised one eyebrow in acknowledgement and summoned the replacements without comment. Tom’s relief was plastered across his face until he heard Chakotay’s next words.

"Paris, Kim, report to engineering. The gel packs in Jeffries tubes 10 through 19 need overhauling. That should keep you occupied for the next six hours or so."

"But my shift is over in two hours, Commander," Tom spluttered.

"Well it would have been at the Helm, Ensign, but now you’re working in engineering. Dismissed!"

Tom swallowed a furious reply, knowing any answer would be an excuse for the Commander to come up with a worse punishment, like manually overhauling the waste disposers.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath, as he stormed to the turbo lift. Kim scuttled in after him, avoiding looking at the rest of the bridge crew, who were no doubt grinning.

As the doors closed, he elbowed Paris viciously in the stomach.

"Ow! what the hell was that for?" Tom yelled, holding his stomach gingerly.

"For just being you, you asshole. Every time you piss him off, I get the blame too. I’m beginning to think that being your friend isn’t worth the price of admission."

For a second, a look of genuine pain flashed in the blue eyes and then was gone so quickly Harry might have imagined it. Paris grinned his cocky, fly-boy grin.

"Oh, come on Har…we’re mates, scourge of the Delta Quadrant, heart breakers extraordinaire…you don’t want to be squeaky clean Harry Kim for ever. Chakotay has the Starfleet rulebook jammed so far up his ass that he walks with a permanent grimace. Who cares what he thinks?"

"I do, I might have to spend the rest of my life on this ship and I want to be respected, maybe get promoted some time," Harry replied quietly. "When we first came aboard everyone warned me that I’d get tarred with the same brush as you, but I didn’t care because being your friend was important to me."

"We’ll it’s important to me too, Harry," Tom assured him.

"Is it? I only see you when B’Elanna is busy and you are bored. Then you entertain yourself with 'let’s take the piss out of Harry.'"

"But that’s just fun, Harry, I don’t mean it," Tom protested.

"Maybe fun for you but not me. I’m sick of it, I’m sick of being punished when you are out of line and frankly, I’m sick of you!"

For a second Tom Paris went white, as though he had been gut-punched. For that endless second, guilt over whelmed Harry. Every fiber of him wanted to say " I didn’t mean it, I was joking" as his warm heart filled with pity for the suddenly vulnerable face in front of him. He started to apologize but before his mouth opened, a shutter seemed to crash down over Tom’s features and an evil smile lit up his face.

"Well," Tom drawled, "that makes it easy to tell you the truth then"

"The truth?" Harry squeaked.

"The truth that you’re a pain in the ass, Harry. That you make me sick, you always have, with your sniveling and whining and home-sickness. You’re just a mommy’s boy and always will be. If I wanted a pet I would have gotten a dog, but instead I got stuck with you. I only let you hang around ‘cos the comparison shows me at my best. Why do you think I always pull and you don’t? Because with you next to me, I look even better. I should have cut you loose years ago!"

Hurt struck Harry like a physical blow. He had been mad at Tom, sure, but he had never dreamt that their friendship had been a lie all along. No, it couldn’t be true. He didn’t believe it.

"Tom, we’ve been friends for years, don’t do this," he begged sadly.

"Harry. You were NEVER my friend. I’ve got better taste," Tom sneered.

Harry looked at Tom. The classic features were set in a rictus of scorn. The blue eyes were cold as ice, and the indifference that poured at him from them was impossible to disbelieve. In that second, Harry was flooded with an emotion so alien to him that he struggled to identify it. Hate. That was it, he hated Tom Paris with a passion that nearly floored him.

Then suddenly, the turbolift opened. Harry looked at Paris for a long moment and then with bare control he spat out "I’ll take Tubes 10-15, the others are yours. I don’t want to see you, speak to you ever again, Ensign."

He spun on his heel and stalked out of the lift, his back stiff with hatred and outrage. Tom looked at his disappearing back with complete indifference until the door closed again. As the door sealed with a whisper and Tom was left alone, his muscles began to shake and he collapsed to the floor with a crash. Tears began to stream down his face and he hugged his knees to his chest, as sobs began to wrack his slim body.

"Harry.." he whispered. "Oh, Harry," and then a wail rose in his throat and in the privacy of the empty turbolift he began to howl like an animal in a trap.

~~~

"You’re no son of mine!" Owen Paris started to close the door in his face. Tom threw down the bag he was carrying to block the door open and started to cry. The admiral took a step backwards in distaste at his son’s tears, thus inadvertently allowing Tom entrance.

"It was an accident, dad, I didn’t mean it. I need you to forgive me, please!"

"You lied."

"I was confused, scared."

"You’re a coward, a disgrace to the Paris name."

"Dad, please… I’m sorry."

Tom swiped a hand over his face, mingling tears with the mucus streaming from his nose.

For a second Owen was reminded of a five-year old Tom, being punished for cutting off his sister’s hair while she slept in a fit of jealousy. He sighed internally as he wondered whether he could have taken any action against Tom then that would have taught him to respect other people. Or had he always been fatally flawed, always destined to act without thought or consideration for other people.

"You're a sorry excuse of a human being. I wish you had never been born."

"No, Dad don’t say that, you can’t mean that. It was an accident. I know I lied but I didn’t have to tell the truth. Nobody suspected. I chose to come clean. I thought they’d respect me for confessing when I didn’t have to."

"Respect you? Respect you for bringing this disgrace to Starfleet? Of course they knew the accident was your fault. Do you think in this day and age we can’t tell why a shuttle crashes? You were cocky, over-confident and arrogant and your so-called friends paid the price. All you had to do was keep your fucking mouth shut!"

"But I felt so guilty, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t look any one in the face," Tom said.

"So you thought you’d ruin my life too?" his father demanded angrily.

"Ruin your life?" Tom repeated in confusion.

"Do you have any idea of how hard I’ve worked to get where I am? How hard your grandfather worked to give me this chance? How many generations of Parises have worked to get our family into the top echelons of Starfleet? My political enemies are having a field day. You have brought disgrace on us all. Your mother hasn’t left her room for a week. Your sisters won’t mention your name. You can take your things and leave. There is no place for you here. We’ve lost everything because of you and what do you care? You’ve lost nothing because you never cared about anything or anyone."

"I lost my best friends," Tom protested, tears burning in his eyes.

"You KILLED your best friends. And what does that make you? God help anyone who makes the mistake of caring about you, Tom. You’ve broken your mother’s heart, you’ve ruined the lives of everyone you’ve ever touched. I wish you’d died at Caldik Prime, at least I wouldn’t have to feel responsible for all the people you are going to harm in the future."

"I’m never going to harm anyone, Dad, please believe me, I can’t live with what I’ve done. I’ll never hurt anyone again. I promise."

Admiral Owen Paris regarded his weeping son with the dispassionate distaste he normally reserved for bacteria on the slides in his laboratory.

"You’re like a disease, Tom, you can’t help the destruction you cause. I almost pity you but if it were within my power I would put you down, like a rabid dog. There’s a flaw in you. Maybe I put it there, maybe I am to blame for what you have become or perhaps you were born that way and no one could have helped you. If your family ever meant anything to you, if you have any conscience at all, go away Tom and disappear, permanently, and if you don’t have enough courage to do the right thing, and frankly I doubt you do, at least don’t make the mistake of letting anyone else care for you. You’ve destroyed enough people."

With that he turned and walked away into the house.

"Dad!" Tom screamed and began to run after him. From nowhere, two security guards appeared in the hallway and lifting him by the elbows picked Tom up and threw him backwards out of the open front door. His bag was picked up and thrown after him and the door slammed shut.

Tom picked himself up off the driveway, wiping furiously at his tears with dusty hands and his eyes watered more furiously with the added irritation. Almost blinded, he staggered to the door and rang the bell, over and over and over but the impenetrable door remained firmly closed against him. He sank to his knees, his right arm still stretched out to ring the chime, like a penitent beggar and he sobbed as his world fell apart, as above him the chime rang unanswered, on and on and on, until he gradually realized that the chime was the steady bleep of his com-badge .

Tom struggled out of his knotted bedclothes, absently registering that he was huddled at the door to his bathroom. His knees and elbows bruised and aching from an apparent fall out of his bed. Still confused he managed to tap his com-badge:

"Paris, here," he croaked, with a voice harsh from crying.

"It is 0807, Ensign, has your bridge duty become so boring that you can’t even bother to turn up today?" Chakotay’s sarcastic voice drawled.

"Shit, oh shit," Tom gasped as he woke up to the realization that he was late for duty. "I’m sorry, Commander, I overslept, I’ll be there in 5 minutes."

"Don’t bother, Paris. Ensign Wildman has the helm. Mr. Kim tells me that you have an interest in maintenance. You are now expected in waste recycling at 0830. Don’t be late," and Chakotay signed off.

"Bastard, bastard, you fucking bastard," Tom spat as he dressed, uncertain whether he meant Chakotay or Harry, or maybe both.

~~~

Eight hours later, Tom decided that he had finally gone to Hell.

Mysteriously the maintenance computer had gone off line over night. Crewman Kenneth Dalby had informed him with great relish, that Chakotay had determined that for the length of Tom’s shift in Maintenance, rank did not apply and that Tom was to follow Dalby’s instructions to the letter. This consisted of Dalby with his feet up reading a serious of Padds that Tom was sure were lurid novels, from Dalby’s occasional chortles, while Tom was assigned to manually strip all of the blocked conduits.

He didn’t argue , sure that Chakotay had set him up. Besides, he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Dalby. He might outrank him now but they had a history and Tom knew to his cost that Dalby had no respect for him and never would.

Filthy and tired, almost gagging from the stench now reeking from his soiled uniform, Tom had finally finished his shift. He reported to Dalby that he was leaving, unable to resist taunting him that the largest conduit had still to be flushed.

"I guess you’ll just have to do that one yourself," he grinned with malice.

Dalby put down his padd, smirked knowingly and flipped switches on the engineering console. Immediately Tom heard the maintenance computer come on line and the sound of automated flushing roared nearly as loudly as the blood in his brain.

"You fucking bastard," he screamed and launched himself at the grinning crewman.

Calmly Dalby grabbed Tom’s fist as it swung at him and in a lightening move he twisted Tom’s arm behind his back and forced him violently onto the console. Tom’s face smashed into the controls and he was momentarily stunned. Pain flashed in his nose and he felt warm blood running down into his mouth. He tried to struggle up but Dalby forced his arm higher up his back, until the agony forced Tom to collapse back onto the console, his lip splitting this time on the switches.

"You stink like the shit you are, Paris," Dalby hissed.

"I’ll report you, Dalby, you’ll be in the brig so long you won’t remember what stars look like," Tom managed to say, as his mouth was mashed further into the console.

"I don’t think so, Paris. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for an opportunity to remind you that you are just scum. Janeway doesn’t think you’re her blue eyed boy anymore, Paris, not since the Moneans and anyway she’s got Seven to occupy her now. She knows you for the liar you are. I’ll just say you were mad about having to get your pretty hands dirty and do some real work for a change. She knows what a lazy bastard you are."

"So, okay…you’re right, I won’t report you…let me go, now," Tom said, completely disarmed by the probable truth of Dalby's words.

"Oh no, I’ve only just started. You’ve pissed me off and made a mess on my computer. You’ve got to pay the price," Dalby replied with a chuckle.

Holding Tom’s left arm twisted up, remembering its vulnerability, Dalby used his right hand to start undoing Tom’s uniform. Realization hit Tom with a terrified rush of horror. He bucked wildly as he flashed back to the last time Dalby had had him in this position, back in the days when Voyager had first joined with the Tom Paris hating Maquis. His wild thrashing in Dalby’s strong grip forced his weak left shoulder to dislocate. Agony flooded him as Dalby dropped the arm in realization of Tom’s helplessness and it dangled uselessly, Dalby taking the opportunity of having both hands free to quickly rip Tom’s clothes off.

Dalby forced his legs apart roughly with his own, while freeing his own dick which sprang out hungrily, already hard and ready to go.

"No, no, no, no no…." Tom sobbed, lost in agony and remembrance.

"Shut the fuck up, Paris. You’re just a whore, a hole to jerk off in. That’s all you’ve ever been," Dalby reminded him savagely.

With that he aimed at Tom’s tightly clenched ass and dove in, taking him in one hard, dry thrust.

Tom felt his ass tearing as Dalby entered him. The agony was so great that for a moment he couldn’t even feel his shoulder. Then Dalby started thrusting wildly. With each stroke he came almost out and then plunged back in. Tom could feel the edge of the computer console cutting into his own groin, as with each thrust he was pounded into the console. The blood from the tearing lubricated Dalby’s cock so that it slid in and out more freely. His ass was on fire, his shoulder blazed with pain and his own cock was being mercilessly mashed between his thighs and the desk.

"Hey, Paris…it’s like fucking a virgin. So tight. So good. How did a whore like you get his cherry back?" Dalby laughed.

Each of Dalby’s thrusts banged against Tom’s prostate and despite the pain and humiliation he felt his cock responding.

"No, no, no, no " he chanted, as much against his own involuntary arousal as against Dalby’s actions.

His body twisted against his will as he found himself raising his hips to meet Dalby’s attack. He started to whimper with each thrust, and Dalby grabbed him around the hips and started to grind him against himself. Each movement meant Tom’s prostate was stroked from another angle and his body continued to betray him as he responded.

"No…I hate him, I hate this….HE hates me…I don’t want this…this is rape…I can’t be wanting this," Tom screamed at himself in denial, while his body gave the lie to his thoughts and he felt his testicles tightening and then an orgasm ripped through him. He spurted cum onto the console.

Dalby was laughing insanely, "yes, little whore, that’s what you are, you want this don’t you…you need me to ream you … cunt, whore…where’s your pride now?"

Tom was sobbing soundlessly, a hundred previous rapes running through his head, the Maquis, prison , even at the beginning on Voyager. Yes, Dalby was right. He WAS a whore. Otherwise how could it feel so good to be hurt so badly? Why did all his self-loathing solidify in this moment, when he felt so good to be so badly punished?

Dalby continued humping wildly, each thrust raising Tom’s body up in the air and then slamming him back down. "You wanted this didn’t you, Paris…admit it, you want this…you want me to do this…admit it"

Tom was almost delirious with pain, this good, good pain.

"Yes" he whispered, as he felt his last vestiges of pride disappear.

"Yes what, whore?" Dalby snarled suddenly grabbing Tom’s balls and wrenching them like he would tear them off.

Tom screamed and sobbed "Yes, I want this…I want this…I need this."

"What do you want, Paris…tell me."

"I want you to fuck me…I want you to hurt me," Tom confessed, lost in that old familiar place where all his guilt found temporary absolution.

"Ask nicely, whore…beg me," and he gave Tom’s testicles another vicious twist.

At that moment, behind them and unheard, the door to maintenance opened and B’Elanna walked in. She had gone to the mess-hall after shift and unable to see Tom, she went and sat next to Harry, who was gazing morosely at the purple glop that was Neelix’s special of the day.

"Hi, Starfleet," B’Elanna said cheerfully, draping a friendly arm over his shoulder. "Where’s Tom?"

"Do I look like his keeper?" Harry snarled.

B’Elanna’s arm dropped and her look of surprise was almost comical. Sweet Harry Kim never spoke to ANYONE like that. Ignoring her instinctive urge to tear his head off his shoulders, B’Elanna swallowed, counted to 10 and said sweetly, "have you two fallen out?"

"Fallen out? Huh…you have to be in to be out!"

"I don’t understand, Harry," B'Elanna said.

"We can’t not be friends anymore, because apparently we never were friends in the first place. He’s been using me all along…and if I were you I’d look out because he’s probably using you too!"

B’Elanna shook her head, completely lost.

"Harry, just answer this…Where is Tom," she asked firmly.

"In waste management…a shit in the shit," Harry spat back.

Deciding that the best way to get to the bottom of this was to talk to Tom, she gave Harry a consoling pat on the shoulder and went to maintenance. As the door opened she could see Dalby’s back. He was bent over a sprawled naked body, grunting furiously as he fucked the prone figure. She saw long white legs with blood pouring down them in rivulets and saw Dalby grab a shock of red-gold hair so that the face below wailed before being banged down on the desk.

Angry disbelief blazed through her.

"It’s Tom. Dalby is raping Tom," she told herself, and sprang forwards, only to stop in horrified confusion as she heard Tom’s voice.

"Please fuck me, Dalby…I’m begging you …fuck me hard … hurt me….please fuck me, don’t stop, I’m your whore…fuck me now,"

If she had not been so angry, so hurt and betrayed, she might have heard the broken defeat in Tom’s voice, the pain and confusion that drove him to say the words he had been forced to say so many times in his life just to survive. She might have heard the self-loathing, which he normally hid so well under his fly-boy persona.

But all B’Elanna could hear was the coursing of her own half-Klingon blood that demanded that she tear out the heart of this man she had trusted, that she had loved, that she thought was her friend. Suddenly Harry’s words came back to her and she understood that just as Harry’s friend had never existed, neither had her lover. Any icy calm came over her and she stepped forwards.

"Well, well what a pretty sight this is," she purred dangerously.

At the sound of B’Elanna’s voice, Dalby jumped up and out of Tom, his dick suddenly going limp in terror and he felt his balls trying to hide inside his body. "I’m going to die," a voice screamed in his head but he couldn’t form any words. He just looked at the maddened half-Klingon with a mouth that opened and closed like beached fish.

"Get out of here," B’Elanna spat and Dalby gathered his clothes and ran out half-naked, before she changed her mind.

In a daze, Tom lay across the console. He had gasped in mixed relief and disappointment when Dalby’s dick had slid out of his ass, leaving a ripped puckered hole. His thighs were smeared with blood and shit and Dalby’s semen. B’Elanna looked at the damage with horror and disgust. She could not believe that anyone would voluntarily allow such abuse, let alone welcome it.

She knew that she was sometimes violent during sex herself, she had marked Tom with her teeth and hands on numerous occasions and he had never complained despite her guilty apologies but this was different, this was sick. Unless it was the violence Tom wanted, needed even. Maybe that was why he had pretended to love her, because he got a sick thrill when she lost control.

*B’Elanna. Oh my god, B’Elanna is here* Tom told himself in a panic. *What happened…how did I let this happen…how did I beg Dalby to keep raping me…oh my God, did she hear me call myself his whore?*

With effort, feeling like a knife was sticking in his left shoulder and groaning at the agony in his ass, Tom rolled over to expose his battered face and bruised groin.

"B’Elanna," he croaked. "It’s not what you think…I didn’t want to do it"

Snarling her disgust, B’Elanna stepped forwards.

"And I suppose you didn’t enjoy it?"

"No. Of course not. . Look what he did to me," Tom beseeched.

"Then what’s this?" and B’Elanna’s finger traced a pattern through the cum on his chest, the evidence of his own orgasms.

Tom closed his eyes in despair and then, Tom Paris patent self-protection don’t show you care routine #25 kicked in,

"So, okay," he drawled, "you caught me! I never said the relationship was exclusive," and he gave a broad smirk, only small tics at the corner of his eyes betraying his true anguish.

But all B’Elanna saw was the smirk. She hit him so hard and fast that he was lifted off the console and he smashed into the wall, his dislocated shoulder taking the impact. He screamed and crumpled, sobbing in pain. B’Elanna took a step forward before realizing that if she hit him again, she wouldn’t stop until she killed him and although that wasn’t a bad thing, he wasn’t worth her spending the rest of her life in the brig.

"You’re scum, Tom, you’re a no-good bastard and I’ll kill you if you ever come near me again. You fucking pig," she screamed and then turned on her heel and ran from the room.

Left alone, Tom huddled into a ball of agony.

"Please let me die," he whispered. "I just want to die"

He curled into a fetal position in the spreading pool of blood from his nose, mouth and ass, and cried.

~~~

Tom sat in sickbay, clutching a blanket around himself and trying to stay calm as the Doctor stalked around him in the supercilious way that only he seemed able to carry with such panache.

"It is my duty to report sexual abuse of this nature to the Captain," he repeated, in that smug manner which always made Tom want to decompile him.

"I already TOLD you, I was NOT abused. This was consensual," Tom hissed.

"I find that hard to believe," The Doctor sniffed. "Even YOU should have more sense than this."

He waived the tricorder in Tom’s face.

"Multiple lacerations, severe internal bleeding, a dislocated shoulder, a broken nose, a split lip, two cracked teeth, severe bruising to your groin area, a twisted testicle…. Need I go on? I have studied the varied mating habits of a number of species,. I have even tended to some of the less socially acceptable results of your relationship with Miss Torres, but I have never experienced any species who believe that this level of physical damage is a necessary part of a sexual ritual. Indeed if B’Elanna hadn’t reported a medical emergency and had you beamed here you may well have bled to death."

"Yeah, good old B’Elanna," Tom muttered to himself. "Must have been worried she’d get the blame for killing me."

"Although why she has involved herself when you are evidently betraying her with another crew member is beyond my programming!" huffed the Doctor in disgust.

"Yeah, well B’Elanna and I are finished. I guess I’m just not into commitment, after all," Tom smirked.

"Committal would seem more appropriate under the circumstances," the Doctor murmured as he walked into his office.

Tom contemplated taking the opportunity to escape since the worst of his injuries had been dealt with, but the thought of walking down the corridor in a blanket was not particularly appealing. He wondered whether he could get a new uniform from the sickbay dispenser. Before he could act on the thought, the Doctor emerged from his office.

"It seems that the Captain has taken this week for a well deserved vacation. She’s on holodec 2 and unavailable except for emergencies. I don’t think that this situation qualifies as an emergency."

Tom’s anger at the fact that the Doctor had gone against his wishes was tempered by the fact that he was not going to get her out of the Holodec over this. Good old Kathryn. She sure knew when to take a holiday. His body started to shake a little with relief but then the Doctor dropped his bombshell.

"Therefore, Commander Chakotay is on his way and will deal with the situation."

The bottom dropped out of Tom’s world. Chakotay. *Oh my God…he’ll see right through me.*

"You bastard! I told you that I didn’t want anyone else told. And Chakotay HATES me."

"I do not appreciate profanity in the sickbay, Mr. Paris. I told you that it was my duty to report this form of physical damage and as to your last point, I do not believe the Commander hates you. At least no more than the rest of us do!" The last sentence was so quiet that Tom barely heard it, but he did hear it and it nearly shattered his fragile self-control.

When the familiar tingling of the transporter beam had permeated his consciousness in Maintenance, his first thought had been *oh God no, just let me die in peace,* but then his mask had slipped back into place. He had managed to materialize in sickbay with a cocky smirk on his face.

After stabilizing him and dealing with the worst of his injuries, the Doctor had looked at him closely and with sub-routine 'SYMPATHY 1' had said softly,

"Are you alright, Mr. Paris. You seem to have been crying!"

"Of course I’ve been crying, I dislocated my shoulder! Who wouldn’t cry!" Tom had spat back, in panic.

"I mean are you emotionally alright. It is a terrible thing to cope with being a victim of rape," the Doctor had replied/

That had been the moment when all of Tom’s defenses had slammed into place. He wasn’t a victim. He couldn’t live with being a victim. The pseudo pity in the Doctor’s eyes almost unmade him then and there. He knew he would shatter into a million pieces if anyone saw into his soul.

"Rape?" he had drawled sarcastically, "God, Doctor, you need to get out more. This wasn’t rape. It was sex. I admit that it got a bit out of hand but when have you ever known Tom Paris to do anything by halves?"

The Doctor had blinked, sub-routine CONFUSION 4, "You are surely not serious, Paris" he had replied, casting furiously around his programming for an explanation. Perhaps this was a coping mechanism, he finally decided.

"Don’t be embarrassed, Mr. Paris. It is quite normal for victims to deny what has happened."

"I told you. I’m not a fucking victim. I am not embarrassed except by the fact that I’m sitting naked in your sickbay. I require nothing but a uniform and to go back to my quarters."

That was when the Doctor had decided he could not cope with the situation anymore and had called Chakotay.

Now the two of them sat in hostile silence. Tom contemplated just getting up and leaving but was pretty sure the Doc would simply call security to bring him back.

*Besides, where are you going to go, Paris?* he asked himself softly *where are you going to hide on a ship this size?* An unwelcome image of himself hiding in his clothes closet jumped into his mind and he laughed hysterically.

The Doctor looked up to see Paris talking to himself and then laughing at nothing and if a holoprogram could shiver then he would have. *I’m not programmed for this,* he told himself self-pityingly and looked at Paris with growing irritation.

At that moment the Sickbay doors whispered open and Chakotay emerged, slightly out of breath as though he had been running. Tom did not bother to look up at him.

"I’m glad you are here," the Doctor said pompously. "Mr. Paris is being of no help whatsoever. It is quite obvious to me that he has been assaulted but he continues to deny it against all the evidence…"

"I’ll take it from here, Doctor," Chakotay interrupted softly. "You can go now"

"But Mr. Paris is still requiring treatment."

Chakotay smiled gently, dimples in abundance "I’ll take it from here," he repeated quietly but firmly.

The Doctor huffed himself up in annoyance "Whilst Mr. Paris is in sickbay I really must insist."

"Computer, delete EMH" Chakotay suddenly snapped, and with a look of shocked horror the Doctor dematerialized.

The commander turned to Tom and the gentle mask slipped off his face to be replaced by an expression of animal fury.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Paris? You know better than to turn up in sickbay with injuries like these."

Paris rocked with confusion. "I…. I… B’Elanna caught Dalby with me. She called the Doctor. It wasn’t my fault."

" ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ " Chakotay mocked. "Nothing’s ever your fault is it Paris? Now I’m going to have to erase the Doctor’s memory files or Dalby will be put in the brig for rape."

"But I told the Doctor it wasn’t rape. It’s not my fault he doesn’t believe me," Paris whined in confusion. It seemed that Chakotay KNEW he had been raped but was only angry that the Doctor had found out. He knew Chakotay was angry but it seemed that the anger was directed all at Paris not, Dalby and that confused the hell out of him.

"What the hell," he thought. "If he knows, I may as well get the sympathy. Maybe I can get out of bridge shift for a week."

"He hurt me really badly, Chakotay," Tom whined. "He nearly killed me."

"I don’t care if he reamed you a new asshole, Paris. He’s one of MY men. You knew when I sent you there this morning that it was for punishment, didn’t you?"

Tom nearly fell off the bed in shock. He didn’t recognize the man in front of him. Where had the respected first officer gone? Horrified light dawned on Tom’s face. "You mean, you mean you told him to, to, to do that to me?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Why not, Paris? It’s always been an effective way to keep you in line and cheer up the troops. Two for the price of one, so to speak."

Bewildered blue eyes looked up into dark eyes glistening with amused hatred.

"You mean, before…the Maquis…that was you?"

Chakotay sat on the next biobed and his shoulders began to shake with barely contained laughter.

"Oh, Paris. The look on your face. Of course it was me. The Maquis during your abortive attempt to join us, the Maquis in prison, the Maquis on board Voyager. All of them were under instruction from me. And you know something, Paris? Every single one of them told me that you enjoyed it!"

Tom wanted to jump up and smash that laughing face, but he couldn’t move, his body felt disconnected. *Shock* he thought, *I’m literally in shock.*

"Oh don’t look so horrified, Paris. You’re just a natural whore and you obviously get off on being punished. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of your needs? Look at it from my point of view, life was hard in the Maquis, sometimes I had to throw a little sweetener out to keep morale up. In the prison the Maquis needed every bit of comfort they could get, and when we first joined voyager no-one was happy about becoming Starfleet. You were just a tool to keep the peace. And you never told anyone. That’s why you were ideal. You were so determined not to let people discover you were a victim that we could just keep doing it to you."

"But why now? After so long? Why did you let me think it was over?" Tom whispered.

Chakotay laughed.

"Several reasons. Firstly, because you were getting too damned cocky and I wanted to wipe the smirk off your face. Secondly because B’Elanna was falling in love with you and I wanted to cure the silly cow before it got too serious and finally, and most importantly, I’ve decided to give up on Kathryn. It’s never going to happen and I need a hole to jerk off in, and since I have certain….. preferences ….that hole is going to be you!"

"A hole to jerk off in," Tom repeated to himself. "That’s what Dalby called me too. The bastard is telling the truth. He’s been behind it all!" The pain inside him threatened to rise up and choke him, but anger won and he spat at Chakotay.

"Fuck you, Chakotay. Do you think I would let you anywhere near me now you’ve told me this? Drop dead, you bastard!"

"I don’t think you have any choice, Paris. There’s no-one for you to turn to. I have spent months letting Harry Kim know that he hasn’t a chance of promotion whilst he is your friend. And from what I hear you fell straight into a trap of your own pride and blew him out before he had a chance to end it. B’Elanna now sees you as the scum you are and is likely to kill you if you go near her. Janeway hasn’t forgiven you for your betrayal with the Moneans. You don’t have any friends here. No-one will believe your word against mine."

"It doesn’t matter. I’m still a member of this crew. There are Starfleet rules to protect me from you."

"Well I suppose you’re right, but if you told anyone about our conversation it would quickly get around the crew that you are the star whore of the delta quadrant. It’s your choice Paris. You can have a private relationship with me and keep your illusion of pride or the whole ship will find out that you are an ever-open asshole and that you get off on being raped. Open season on Tom Paris will start tomorrow!" Chakotay smirked.

"You bastard," Tom choked, tears pouring down his face as the helplessness of his situation overwhelmed him.

"It’s up to you Paris. 2200, my quarters if you come to your senses. If not…well all I can say is that there will be an interesting anonymous article on the ship-wide net tomorrow. See you later, Paris."

And Chakotay walked out of sickbay without a backward glance.

~~~

Tom walked slowly into the mess hall and helped himself to a plate of cold leftovers. He wasn’t hungry, in fact he felt sick at the thought of food, but he couldn’t spend the next two hours alone in his quarters or he would go mad. At least here he could think things through without succumbing to the mindless urge to howl like a trapped animal.

It was 2000 and most of Alpha shift had eaten and gone on to Sandrine's or Fairhaven. A few people were still huddled at tables discussing the gossip of the day and he breathed a sigh of relief that, since his arrival hadn’t caused any furtive glances, the gossip obviously didn’t include him.

Yet.

He sat gingerly on his raw ass, increasingly aware that the damage that the Doctor had partially repaired was more than skin deep and regretting the tightness of his jeans.

Obviously B’Elanna hadn’t spread the word about what had happened earlier that evening. For a second he felt gratitude towards her, before realizing that it had more likely been her own reputation she had been protecting with her silence. After all, she wouldn’t want it known that her boyfriend had thrown her over, especially for a bastard like Dalby.

Pain clenched his stomach as for a fleeting moment he wished that what B’Elanna had thought was the truth. Although he wanted to put his life on the line, literally, and find her and try to beg her forgiveness, he knew that the only thing worse than her hatred would be her pity. He could imagine the disgust that would fill her eyes if she knew the truth.

The fact that it wasn’t the first time Dalby had raped him, the fact that he had spent every day and night in prison being someone’s whore. More importantly, the fact that in less than 2 hours he would go to the quarters of the man who had masterminded his debasement and would become his whore too.

There was no point in denying it to himself. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He had three choices; he could tell everybody and become an object of scorn and ridicule. There was no safety in that choice. His experience in prison had taught him that to appear a victim simply drew abusers to you like a magnet. Oh, it wouldn’t happen at once but one day he would walk down a deserted corridor and someone would be waiting for him.

He would have to spend the rest of the journey looking over his shoulder, waiting for the inevitable. Never knowing who or when. And in the meantime how could he face the Starfleeters, whose sheltered upbringing in the Federation had not prepared them to accept the choices he had made. Who would sicken him with their pseudo sympathy whilst always saying behind his back that he must have liked it really or he wouldn’t have let it happen. And a large part of him wondered whether that was true.

Or he could kill himself. The thought held no fear. In fact, he examined the idea with clinical detachment. There was no point slitting his wrists or taking pills, the medical computer would pick up his fading life signs and alert the doctor. Then he would be on suicide watch for the rest of his life. A phaser on kill would do it but since he was off duty he would have to steal one from Security or knock out a security officer and steal one.

*Oh, yeah, Paris get a grip…you couldn’t even fight Dalby off, how the hell would you subdue a trained Security Officer?*

Maybe he could transport himself to a point out of the ship. He could imagine his body blowing apart like an overripe fruit. Messy and painful but quick. But if he turned up at a transporter room that would show on Tuvok’s station and Chakotay would be able to stop him before he could, before he could what? Overcome the transporter operator and override the security lock and transport himself remotely before he was caught, oh yeah, really likely wasn’t it.

Maybe if he could get onto the shuttle deck without detection he could steal the Delta Flyer, shoot the bay doors off and escape before the tractor beam caught him…. Maybe he could get into sickbay claiming aftereffects of the rape and get hold of a lethal dose of painkiller. Except the Doctor had been reprogrammed so he wouldn’t know about Paris’s injuries and he would only get out the painkillers if he saw the injuries and if he saw the injuries he would call Chakotay.

Which brought him to the third and only choice. Chakotay. What was it they said, "Better the devil you know," except Tom had a feeling that he didn’t know Chakotay at all. In fact, it had been made painfully obvious to him today that maybe no one on Voyager really knew him, except maybe the Maquis and they weren’t telling. How could he appear so calm, so gentle, the voice of reason whenever Captain Janeway let her emotions run away with her. How could a man who seemed the perfect text-book example of everyone’s firm but favorite Commander really be the vicious, vengeful beast that had revealed it’s fangs today?

On the other hand, did it seem likely that a man like the perfect Commander Chakotay could have ever been the ruthless leader of a Maquis resistance cell? Everything Tom knew and had heard about the war against the Cardassians had made him realize that no one could survive unless they were as cruel and ruthless as their enemies were. To have become a cell leader, Chakotay must have excelled at the torture and killing that were the everyday tools of both sides of the dispute. He had glimpsed today the real Chakotay behind the mask, the wolf who lurked close to the surface of the powerful, dark Indian and despite the terror that made his balls shrink and his hands tremble he also felt the powerful call of that wild spirit.

"He’s the punishment I’ve been looking for," he whispered to himself. " My atonement for Caldik Prime," and he shivered to hear these terrible self-destructive thoughts, even as he felt in them a truth that no one could ever understand. "He’s the dark vengeful shadow that chases me in my nightmares. And he will kill me, one day at a time, until I am a used up husk and I simply blow away like so much space dust. And that is the price I have to pay. The rest has been a rehearsal for this. This is my sentence and I can’t escape it any more."

"Tom, I didn’t see you come in and then I saw you but you seemed so lost in thought that I have left you alone, but I really must start clearing up now!" came the cheerfully apologetic voice of Neelix, breaking into his thoughts.

"Oh, you haven’t eaten your dinner. Can I get you something else?" Neelix said, torn between concern for Tom who looked unusually pale and irritation that he might be taken up on his offer.

Tom shook his head like a weary animal and looked up at the brightly dressed Talaxian.

"What time is it?" Tom croaked.

"It’s nearly 2200 and I need my beauty sleep you know," Neelix laughed. He didn’t really know what the saying meant but somehow he had found that people always looked at him and laughed and left without complaint when he said it.

Tom shot up in a panic. *I’m going to be late, oh God don’t let me be late!* and he ran out of the mess hall like the white rabbit.

Neelix watched his disappearing back with a furrowed brow and then chuckled to himself. "Must have a hot date…. Lucky Tom!"

~~~

He looked up with irritation from the Padd he was reading as his door chime sounded. It was 2210 and his temper, which had been at fraying point for several days, was suddenly stretched beyond endurance.

"Tom," he thought. "The bastard. I’ll kill him."

The door chimed again.

"Go away," he yelled, "It’s too late…you had your chance and blew it. Go away."

He threw the padd at the closed door and it clattered to the floor with a satisfying smash.

The chime went again.

"Fucking bastard. If I open that door you’ll wish you hadn’t come here. It’s too late for this."

The chime continued.

He snapped suddenly, jumping to his feet and storming to the door

"You’re dead, Paris, fucking dead," he snarled as he opened the door,

And stepped back in surprise.

"B’Elanna…what are you doing here…I thought you were Tom!"

"He’s not here then?" B’Elanna asked plaintively, and he was struck suddenly by how vulnerable and upset she looked.

"No, he’s not…come in B’Elanna, you look awful…I mean upset… I mean you couldn’t ever look AWFUL… I mean…"

"Shut up, Harry and hold me" B’Elanna said gently, and stepped into his room and into his arms.

~~~

Tom stood shivering in Chakotay’s living room. He had arrived out of breath with only seconds to spare and as Chakotay had opened his door, still in his Command uniform, he had been chilled by the feral, triumphant smile that slowly spread over the Commander’s face. As the door slid shut behind him with a whisper, trapping him with this unpredictable and very dangerous man, he was struck anew by how intimidating Chakotay was physically.

Although Tom was several inches taller than the older man was, he felt fragile and defenseless against the dense heavy presence of Chakotay. The man exuded strength, confidence and danger. Chakotay stepped back to survey the younger man and his tongue snaked over his lower lip. Although his eyes still glittered with unconcealed hate there was a deep lust lurking in there too. Such an unmistakable combination, the look he had seen so many times before. But it had never had this paralyzing power over him in the past. Tom ducked his head and stared at the floor as a humiliated blush colored his face. If he looked into those eyes for a second longer he would scream.

Chakotay backed slowly away from him as though calming a wild animal and settled into the couch. He relaxed comfortably, stretching his powerful limbs absently and stared at Tom in apparent contemplation for a long time before speaking. When it came, Chakotay’s voice was unexpectedly quiet but unmistakably a command.

"Take off your clothes, Paris."

Startled by the sudden words, Tom looked up to see Chakotay’s heavy lidded eyes regarding him. He was reminded again of a Wolf.

"And I’m the lamb for the slaughter," he told himself, almost laughing in his terror. His frozen limbs refused to move.

Annoyance flashed over the Commander’s features

"NOW! Paris, I won’t ASK again, and I do not expect to ever have to repeat myself again to you. Do you understand?" Chakotay snarled.

"Yes," Tom mumbled.

"Yes, what? "

"Yes, sir!" Tom replied, beginning to undo his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons in his panic.

"SLOWLY," Chakotay barked. "I want you do it nice and slow for me. Think about pleasing me with every movement you make. Give me a show and if you please me enough then, maybe, just maybe, I’ll take it easier on you tonight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Tom whispered, as tears of humiliation started to run down his cheeks.

Tom couldn’t remember ever feeling this bad before. Sure he had been raped and battered countless times but he had always fought, even if sometimes it was only a token resistance because he was too sore for another beating. He had always screamed at his attackers. Always sworn and called them names and let them know that they could do what they liked to his body but his soul was his own. He had never, ever given in before. He had never acted the whore, even if they used him like one.

This was different. He was doing this himself. Chakotay was on the other side of the room. He had come to this room voluntarily. Under duress perhaps, but not dragged kicking and screaming. He had walked in and put himself in this position and now he was taking his clothes off just because he had been told to. Something broke in Tom at that moment. Some last vestige of pride that he didn’t even know he still had, broke away and left him trembling and naked in front of the Commander. If sheer despair and self-hatred could have stopped a heart he would have dropped dead at that moment. But the universe was not that kind.

Tom stood there naked for an endless amount of time. It was cold in the room and gooseflesh had erupted on his arms and legs whilst his testicles had shriveled, although he guessed a large part of that was fear. On and on he stood there as Chakotay simply watched him with a small, unpleasant smile on his face. Finally, the tension, the cold and the fear were too much for Tom.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, hearing his voice break a little on the last word.

"I want you to shut the fuck up," Chakotay snarled and moving with unbelievable speed he sprang up from the couch, crossed the room and back-handed Tom across the face before Tom even registered that he was coming.

Tom flew back from the force of the blow and hit the closed door with his left shoulder. Although the dislocation had been fixed, the nerves were still raw and he sank to the floor in agony. He felt a burning heat in his jaw and realized that his lip had started to bleed again. He cautiously looked up and saw that Chakotay had calmly returned to the couch and was again sitting watching him as if nothing had happened.

"Get up," the deceptively soft voice said and Tom didn’t hesitate. He leapt to his feet and stood back where he had left his pile of clothes.

"Open your legs…. this far" and Chakotay indicated about 40 centimeters with his hands.

Tom complied, looking for further instruction but just receiving an inscrutable glare. He ducked his head and closed his eyes against the tears that were beginning to form again. His hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically but other than that he stayed motionless for a seemingly endless time. Gradually Tom became aware of a spreading burning pain on the inside of his thighs as his muscles tired of this unnatural position. The more he tried to stay still, the more his muscles ached and trembled so that although he didn’t move from position he was virtually shuddering to stay in place. He looked up at Chakotay, too frightened to speak but ready to plead with his eyes, only to find Chakotay absorbed in a padd. The bastard wasn’t even watching him any more.

Carefully, watching Chakotay for a reaction, he began to move his right leg a millimeter at a time to ease the pressure.

"Don’t move," Chakotay snapped, not even looking up.

Tom froze again. He didn’t know what was going on. He was tired and afraid and in pain and too scared to move. He started to sob quietly, hiccupping the cries so as not to make any noise. After about 10 more minutes, Chakotay put down the padd he was reading and looked up. He saw the trembling, shivering form of Tom Paris and grinned maliciously.

"Good," he purred.

Slowly he got up and walked to the replicator and fumbled with the controls for a minute. He was deliberately ordering non-verbally so that Tom couldn’t tell what he was doing. He took two items from the replicator, and hiding them behind his back he walked up to Tom and stepped behind him.

Tom held his breath, as all he could feel for a long moment was Chakotay’s malevolent presence behind him. Without warning one of Chakotay’s boots kicked his legs further apart. He staggered for a second but didn’t fall.

"Bend over," Chakotay ordered.

For an instant Tom froze, before the fear of what would happen if he didn’t obey overcame his fear of what would happen if he did.

He reached down, helped by a rough hand on the small of his back, until his hands reached the floor.

"Take your weight on your hands," Chakotay said and Tom obeyed, realizing how very vulnerable he was in this position, with his ass stuck up in the air.

Behind him Chakotay opened the tube of lubrication that he had replicated and began smearing it over the other item, a large dildo.

"Let me explain something, Tom," Chakotay said pleasantly, as he completed his task. "I don’t like blood in my bed, or shit in my bed or any other excrescence your putrid body might exude. So from now on when you arrive at my quarters you will have washed yourself inside and out. Do you understand what I mean by that?" and he slapped Tom’s ass hard enough to leave a white handprint in the suddenly reddened skin.

"Yes, Sir," Tom yelped.

"Furthermore, I do not want to waste my time preparing you…you are NOT my boyfriend…you are my whore…. You will come ready to accept me, understand?" he punctuated his remark with a blow to the other cheek.

"Yes, Sir," Tom sobbed.

"To help you in this, because I like to be a reasonable man, I have replicated you something to assist you. I made it out of YOUR rations, of course, since it is for your benefit," and without any further warning Chakotay shoved the dildo in Tom, in one swift powerful movement, until it was firmly embedded.

Tom screamed at the invasion. Whatever Chakotay had stuck up his ass was thicker and longer than anything he had felt before and on top of the earlier rape it was agonizing, despite the lubricant.

"You will realize that you are soon to be the lucky recipient of this!" Chakotay said proudly, and walking to Tom’s front he unzipped his uniform and pulled out the biggest cock Tom had ever seen on a man. Huge and purple with arousal, it glistened with pre-cum. Tom stared at it with horror.

Chakotay rubbed his hand over the weeping end of his cock and then jammed a thick finger into Tom’s mouth.

"Taste me, Tom," he purred and Tom began to suck desperately on Chakotay’s finger.

"Is that good, baby?" Chakotay mocked, "Do you like something to suck?"

Tom looked with despair at Chakotay’s penis as it bobbed threateningly in front of his eyes. "If he puts that in my mouth, I’ll choke," he thought desperately and his throat began to involuntarily spasm. *What will he do if I throw up on him?* Tom asked himself in panic, knowing that the answer was probably worse than even his imagination.

Tom started to sob wildly, his eyes darting in panic, his breath coming in gasps as he began to hyperventilate whilst his abused leg muscles began to tremble so badly that his reddened ass wobbled uncontrollably. "No more…please…no more…. Please…please, Sir," He whimpered and nearly collapsed with relief when Chakotay, watching his antics in amusement, calmly put his cock away again, patting it with regret.

"But that’s a pleasure for another day…I don’t want to damage you too much, Tom, otherwise I might wear you out. I have plans for a very long term relationship with you."

Tom did not mistake the threat in those words.

"Stand up and get dressed," Chakotay snapped.

Tom started in surprise…was it over, already? He gingerly grasped the end of the dildo to remove it when, in a daze, heard Chakotay say with unconcealed amusement,

"I didn’t tell you to take that out. I said get dressed."

Barely able to move with the dildo jammed deep inside him, Tom had great difficulty in reaching for his clothes and putting them back on. The act of fastening his tight jeans up, pressed the object in even deeper so that he gasped in renewed agony. Finally dressed, his legs as far apart as he could keep them he looked at Chakotay who had returned to the couch. Sweat was pouring down Tom’s forehead, stinging his eyes and beading on his chin. He was biting his lip to stop himself crying out and he felt the coppery taste of his own blood.

Tom swayed against an intense wave of nausea.

"Dismissed," Chakotay said, and picked the padd up again.

"I don’t think I can walk like this," Tom begged.

"Oh, I think you’re going to have to learn to," Chakotay smiled, briefly looking back up from his padd. "Do you really want to still be here if I get up again?" he asked quietly, the menace dripping from his words.

"No, Sir," Tom whispered brokenly and began his slow stagger to the door. The door swooshed open and Tom looked back at the couch but Chakotay's head was bent over the padd once more, as though he had already forgotten Tom's existence.

Slowly and painfully, Tom walked back to his room, bow-legged with agony. When he finally stepped over his own doorway he collapsed to the floor in a heap and the feeling of sickness overwhelmed him. He vomited violently, his almost empty stomach wrenched with the effort. Each spasm of movement drove the dildo impossibly further inside him.

Overwhelmed with the release of terror, he felt his bladder loosen and a dark putrid stain spread from his jeans into the vomit-splattered floor. He lay in his own filth like a wild animal, sobbing and retching for a long time until he simply lay and shuddered with exhaustion, his eyes dull with shock. He was too tired and in too much pain to even attempt to remove his clothes so he lay there feeling the huge alien object inside him and cried himself to a fitful sleep.

~ ~ ~

A combination of the lack of dangerous obstacles in her path, and the natural talent that enabled his hands to fly over the helm without conscious thought, was probably the only reason that Voyager survived Tom’s shift.

He had been woken by the sound of his own sobbing and the smell that had immediately assaulted him had made him jump up before he remembered that he had a photon torpedo stuck up his ass.

Wailing with the renewed pain, he had dragged his filthy clothes off and found to his relief that the dildo had slipped out easily enough in the stream of mucus, shit and blood that had poured out of his traumatized rectum. A long shower, the draining of the dermal regenerator in his personal med.-kit and an entire box of painkillers later, he had managed to stagger, sore and a little stoned, into his room and clean up the vile mess from his floor. He had combed his hair, put on a uniform, had fixed his face into a semblance of normality and forgoing breakfast had arrived at the morning briefing with no time to spare.

What a fiasco that had been.

With the Captain still off duty, and thus unaware of any trouble, the meeting had been taken by Chakotay. The Commander had been in an unusually good mood and appeared strangely oblivious to the emotional undercurrents in the room. B’Elanna had been hostile and uncommunicative from the moment Tom arrived, snapping out her engineering reports at a fixed point in the wall above Tuvok’s shoulder.

"The warp nacelles are still sluggish and unresponsive despite our considerable efforts to repair them. They have been subjected to undue stress in the last 62 months, largely due to Voyager being treated like someone’s private pleasure yacht," she spat viciously at Tom, who had somehow managed to merely grin back at her with his patent flyboy smirk.

His lack of response to her jibe only encouraged B’Elanna’s fury.

"I can’t be held responsible for the results of someone else’s antics, and frankly Commander, with the unavailability of spare parts perhaps we should look more closely at the current policy of encouraging dangerous maneuvers at the helm!"

Calmly, Chakotay had steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful before replying.

"I understand your frustration, B’Elanna, and I am aware that some ‘discipline’ issues need to be sorted out," and he had smiled pleasantly at Tom, who had paled slightly under the scrutiny.

"However," Chakotay had continued. "I think that you are overreacting slightly to the problem…or is there another issue here that I’m missing?" and he had gazed with bewildered concern at the half-Klingon.

To her horror, B’Elanna had found tears springing up in response to Chakotay’s kindness. She hurriedly ducked her head.

"No, Sir," she said quietly and Chakotay nodded, sagely, before moving his gaze to Harry.

"Ensign Kim, what have you to report?"

"Um, nothing of interest, Sir, but I’m taking the opportunity to overhaul the Ops console," Harry replied, eagerly.

"Well, keep at it, Mr. Kim, I’m glad to see that you have been paying more attention to your ‘career’ in the last few days," Chakotay said warmly, and as the two pairs of brown eyes locked, Harry was left in no doubt of the Commander’s sudden approval of him. Oddly, the Commander’s new good will seemed to coincide with his argument with Tom, although since there was no way the Commander could know about that, Harry decided that he must have simply picked up on his subsequent attention to duty.

He straightened proudly in his chair and replied "Yes, Sir!" and he knew that he had done the right thing in cutting Tom loose and concentrating on his job for a change. After all, look what the bastard had done to B’Elanna. And okay, Tom looked really odd today, as though he was wearing one of those Mardi Gras masks. The patent Tom Paris smirk looked like a bad make-up job today, barely concealing dark patches under his eyes and pupils so large that his blue eyes looked almost black. But then being caught cheating by B’Elanna would make any guy lose sleep. Even an amoral bastard like Tom.

*You deserve to feel bad,* he thought viciously, remembering how B’Elanna had sobbed in his arms the night before. *You don’t deserve any pity* So why couldn’t he look at the Pilot? Why did he feel so damn guilty? Was it something to do with the strange pleasure he had taken in comforting B’Elanna? The realization that with Tom out of the picture, maybe there was hope for his own secret desires after all?

"Mr. Tuvok," Chakotay continued. "Any security issues that I should be aware of?"

The Vulcan contemplated for a moment before replying.

"All of the crew appear to be working efficiently despite the enforced boredom and the long-time lack of shore-leave. I am aware of no current hostility between crew members."

A small choking sound escaped from Tom.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Paris?" Chakotay asked with interest.

"Um, no sir. Just something in my throat," Tom mumbled, blushing furiously at the image of Chakotay’s huge cock that sprang into his head at his unfortunate choice of words.

"Perhaps you need to think more about what you are doing when you open your mouth" Chakotay replied mildly and only Tom saw the mocking glitter in his eyes.

*How could the bastard seem so calm, so damned NICE? Why could no one else see through the mask to the malevolent creature that lurked just under Chakotay’s skin?* Tom wondered, helplessly.

After Neelix’s report on the new and interesting diets he had devised to torture the crew with and Seven’s report that Astrometrics was running with near-perfect efficiency, Chakotay brought the meeting to a close.

"Well, gentlemen, that’s all. Dismissed."

He waited until they stood up before casually saying,

"Oh, Ensign Paris?"

Tom turned with studied nonchalance, clenching his fists to stop the sudden trembling in his limbs.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Crewman Dalby reported that your performance in maintenance yesterday was extremely satisfactory!" Chakotay said pleasantly.

B’Elanna stiffened dangerously and spat "I’ll just bet he did," under her breath.

"He has requested that you call by today, straight after your shift to go over a few…loose ends," Chakotay continued, seemingly oblivious to the sudden drop of temperature in the room.

Tuvok noticed the tension, however and raised an eyebrow slightly as he watched Tom stiffen and pale before a brittle smile broke across his face and he whispered "Yes, Sir," before bolting to the helm. He watched the fury on B’Elanna’s face and the concerned pat that Ensign Kim gave her as he followed her onto the bridge.

Tuvok turned to the Commander and said, "It would appear that Ensign Paris has managed to alienate Lieutenant Torres, and it would appear that Mr. Kim is also unhappy with the situation. Do you believe that this will have an impact on crew performance, Commander? Would you like me to investigate further?"

Chakotay looked at the Vulcan with saddened eyes.

"I think that Mr. Paris and Ms. Torres have always had a volatile relationship. I am sure that it will blow over, Mr. Tuvok. I believe that this "alienation" should not effect bridge efficiency. I see no immediate reason for you to pay the matter any attention."

Tuvok nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Commander. I am sure that you are right. Perhaps Mr. Paris will finally learn to behave with proper decorum on the bridge, if not in his personal life."

"I hope so," Chakotay replied sorrowfully. "It would be a shame if further action needed to be taken."

"Indeed."

As the ready room door closed behind the Vulcan’s back, Chakotay released the breath that he had been holding all meeting and began to laugh uproariously.

"Game, set and match, Tom," he sniggered.

~~~

Despite his narcotic haze, Tom had nearly lost it when he had seen B’Elanna but he had too many years of practice to allow his true emotions to show. Admittedly he had choked at the irony of Tuvok’s words but he had stayed cool, almost detached as he marveled at Chakotay’s performance. He could have made it, he thought, he could have coped with the situation, but Chakotay’s last words had been an unexpected blow that had nearly felled him.

"That wasn’t the deal," he whispered to himself in disbelief. "It’s only supposed to be HIM, I’m supposed to be safe from the rest!"

He rocked in misery at the Helm, every movement sending needles of pain up his abused ass.

"It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair…" and he continued the mantra in his head all shift, lost in his personal hell.

Tom made no move to leave the helm at lunch. Tuvok looked over at Chakotay with a questioning eyebrow and Chakotay merely shrugged, so it was not until end of shift that Tom felt a hand on his left shoulder. As he jumped, uttering a small cry of panic, the hand tightened viciously, hidden from the rest of the crew by Chakotay’s bulk.

"Daydreaming, Ensign?" Chakotay laughed pleasantly, only the biting pressure of his fingers showing Tom his displeasure at Tom’s inadvertent cry.

"Sorry, Sir," he managed to whisper.

"Well try not to do it near a planet, okay?"

"No, Sir…sorry Sir…" Tom stuttered.

"You’re due in maintenance now, " Chakotay reminded him .

For a second Tom was afraid that he would either throw up or scream or even fall on his knees and beg for mercy. But the fingers bored mercilessly into his abused shoulder and the pain was like a dash of water in his face.

*Pull yourself together,* he told himself. *Don’t let anyone know…don’t give yourself away or they'll all know you're a victim. They'll all want their pound of flesh.*

Stiffly, his torn ass numb from 8 hours of sitting, Tom pulled himself to his feet.

"Yes, Sir… I’m going there now."

"See that you do, Ensign," Chakotay replied softly, the threat in his eyes unmistakable, and he stood back to let Paris limp slowly off the Bridge.

"May I speak to you in your ready room, Commander?" Tuvok requested.

"Of course, Mr. Tuvok," Chakotay replied pleasantly and led the way.

He felt sick with angry panic. Had Tuvok seen him hurting Tom? Had he guessed Chakotay’s secret? Fear warred with fury but he showed no sign of his inner conflict as he turned a placid face to the Vulcan.

"It is my opinion that Mr. Paris’s inattention today was a reckless endangerment of this ship," Tuvok stated coldly.

Relief flooded through Chakotay along with glee that his plans were proceeding so rapidly.

"I think you are being a little harsh, Mr. Tuvok. I heard at lunchtime that his relationship with B’Elanna is over. We should be a little sympathetic, I think."

"Your sympathy does you credit, Commander, but in my opinion it is ill-placed. Despite Mr. Paris’s undoubted talents there is no doubt that he is capable of acts of extreme negligence. We would not want a repetition of Caldik Prime every time his love life suffers."

"I think that you are being overly judgmental. Tom is only human. You can’t expect him not to let his emotions show."

Only a minute curl of his lip betrayed Tuvok’s distaste.

"I understand Tom’s lack of self-control, Commander, that is why I am making a formal request that he is removed from the helm until the situation is resolved."

Chakotay bit his lip and then sighed loudly.

"All right, Tuvok. I concur. Tom will be reassigned."

"Thank you, Commander."

Chakotay waited for Tuvok to leave before he let the wave of triumph spread over his face.

"Oh, no, Tuvok… Thank YOU!"

Chakotay knew that the only thing that Tom valued was flying. Removing him from the helm would be like cutting the wings off a bird. Tom had lost his best friend, his lover, his pride and now his reason for living. It would be easy to break him now. He had been so careful, knowing that Janeway would question the decision to take Tom off the helm. With the formal request coming from Tuvok, against his own protests, there was no way anyone would guess his hand in this action. He was so squeaky clean that the next step of his plan would be easy.

"Eight years…" he whispered to himself "Eight years I’ve waited and planned this, Paris. But it’s been worth it. Dangling you like a fish on a line, letting you out, bringing you in. Letting you think you were free just long enough that now your spirit will shatter in my hands."

"Computer, initiate privacy lock Chakotay Gamma One," he snapped, walking over to the replicator.

"Computer, one steak, rare!"

As the plate appeared, Chakotay felt a rush of hunger that was almost sexual. He grasped the meat with his hands and ripped into it with his teeth, feeling the blood juices running down his mouth.

"Oh, if they could see me now!" he giggled, and his body convulsed with laughter again.

~~~

Tom hovered outside the doors of maintenance, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Too scared to go in. Too scared not to. The day’s growing tension had eventually coalesced into a pounding headache and he simply couldn’t think straight anymore.

Sharp needles of pain were darting into the back of his eyes and then congregating in the bridge of his nose. His vision was blurred around the edges and the lights in the corridor seemed abnormally fierce, forcing him to squint against them. All he wanted to do that moment was to curl up in a dark room and sleep.

"Fuck it," he snarled, with false bravado "What’s he going to do to me if I just go back to my quarters?"

But he knew the answer was that Chakotay’s punishment for disobedience was probably 10 times worse than whatever Dalby was planning on doing. Dalby was big and mean but too stupid to play games with Tom’s head like Chakotay had. He would probably hurt Tom and maybe even rape him again but somehow the thought just didn’t instill the pure animalistic horror in him that the idea of displeasing Chakotay did.

He felt his chest tighten dangerously until the effort to breathe, combined with the roaring pain inside his head, made him stagger.

"But it’s not fair!" Tom wailed. "I did exactly what he said. I didn’t tell. I didn’t report him. I didn’t complain. I obeyed him. I did every fucking thing he told me to. He said I was to be HIS." And welling up in the constricting pain in his panicked chest, was that overwhelming emotion that he was feeling actually rejection?

No, it couldn’t be, because if he had sunk that low, that pitiful, then he may as well just give up now, go to Janeway and admit every sordid detail of his past and current debasement.

"But you can’t keep running from the inevitable, Tom," whispered Owen Paris’s voice.

Tom spun in panic in the empty corridor.

He shook his head violently. "NO! No, You’re not real, You’re not here, You’re in my head. Shut up! Shut up!"

"When are you going to learn to take it like a man, Tom?" The voice continued scornfully.

"NO! " Tom screamed desperately "Go away! Get out of my head! I didn’t do anything. I don’t deserve this!"

"Of course you deserve it! You’re a murderer. A liar. A coward. A cheat! You ruined my career. You broke your mother’s heart. You deserve to be punished, Tom."

Tom whimpered helplessly, his hands clasped tightly to his temples in a vain effort to drive the voice out.

"But I’ve changed, " he pleaded. "I’m different now, Dad!"

"Is that why everyone hates you? If you were so different, wouldn’t you have someone to turn to?" the Admiral mocked.

"I can go to the Captain, she gave me a new start, trusted me, gave me the new chance that you never did!" Tom replied bitterly.

"But you threw it in her face, Tom. You let her down. Like you have always let everyone down. She had to demote you, put you in the brig. She hates you now like all the rest of us."

Tom refused to believe the voice, refused to give up his last hope of reprieve. Okay, maybe the Captain wouldn’t believe him, in fact given Chakotay’s award winning performances of late, the chances of anything Tom said being believed was highly unlikely, but then again maybe she would drop him off the ship in disgust at the next habitable planet and hightail on to the Alpha Quadrant leaving him safely behind.

The Admiral’s voice laughed mockingly, "You’re more likely to end up in the brig, and then there’ll be nowhere to run!"

"No, No, you’re wrong and even if you are right she wouldn’t let him do this to me!" Tom gasped desperately.

"Of course she would. She knows what is happening, Tom and she is letting him do it. Why else would she disappear so conveniently to let Chakotay make his move?"

"No! I don’t believe it! Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Tom screamed at himself, closing his eyes and pressing his palms tightly against the sockets. Wave after wave of pain crashed through his skull. The more he tried to think, the faster his thoughts dissolved and floated elusively just out of reach, gossamer threads that broke and spun away under his mental grasp. And still that impossible voice spoke inside his head.

"Do you really think that in all these years Chakotay has never revealed his true nature to her?" the insidious voice continued. "They are probably together now, laughing at you!"

"NO!" Tom screamed at himself, "I don’t believe it, I can’t believe it!" but some part of him did. The part of him that knew that everyone always let him down when he needed them, because he didn’t deserve help.

"So why don’t you check, Tom? Afraid to find out I’m right?"

"Computer, location of Commander Chakotay!" Tom demanded defiantly.

"Commander Chakotay is in holodec 2," the metallic voice replied.

"Computer, who is with Commander Chakotay?"

"Captain Janeway is with Commander Chakotay," the computer replied emotionlessly.

Tom slumped in horror. "Oh, God…Oh God…" he chanted as his legs threatened to give way with his understanding of this ultimate betrayal.

"I told you, Tom," the voice in his head whispered maliciously. "There’s no escape this time. There’s no easy court-martial or early parole. No, you've got to finally pay for what you have done."

"I know!" Tom told himself. "I know."

With weary resignation, he stepped forwards through the door.

~~~

In holodec 2, Captain Kathryn Janeway, intrepid leader of Voyager, was sat in Michael’s bar in Fairhaven where she had been staying for the last three days. The healthy glow that she had been slowly obtaining had withered at Chakotay’s report.

"Oh, poor Tom," she said, shaking her head in resignation. "Why does he do these things to himself? I always thought that his relationship with B’Elanna was fragile but why did he have to throw it away?"

"I don’t know, Kathryn. I couldn’t believe it when I found out that he’d been sleeping with Ken Dalby for the whole of his relationship with B’Elanna, but when I asked Dalby he confirmed it!" Chakotay said sadly. "It seems he has been seeing other people too!"

"So why has the break up affected him badly enough for Tuvok to want him off the bridge?" Kathryn asked in confusion.

"I guess he was too cocky to think he’d ever be caught. He didn’t expect to get found out," Chakotay replied. "And Harry seems to have decided that enough is enough and has taken B’Elanna’s side. Understandable really."

"So he’s lost his best friend as well as his girlfriend and God knows, no-one else seems to be close to him," Kathryn mused. "Well, I can’t say that I didn’t expect better of Tom but then that’s the problem. I always look for the good in him. Maybe there simply isn’t any to be found!" she said in defeat.

"You can’t blame yourself for trying to help him, Kathryn. Spirits, you’ve always gone out on a limb for him and he’s always betrayed you. In fact, although it saddens me to say it, maybe this finally proves that he’s incapable of honesty at any level," Chakotay said quietly.

"I don’t want to believe you. I have always thought that you are too hard on him. That you disliked him for some reason that I was unaware of. But maybe you have been right all along. I’ll bow to your judgment in this, Chakotay, since you seem to have more impartiality than I do in this matter. Maybe a few weeks in sickbay with the Doctor will teach him the self-discipline he clearly lacks!"

"Are you going to cut short your vacation?"

Kathryn looked around herself and sighed deeply.

"No, I don’t think so. I’ll leave Tom in your capable hands. He’s ruined enough people’s lives already this week without ruining my holiday!" and putting the problem that was Tom Paris aside, she smiled impishly at him.

"Care for a drink before you go, Chakotay?"

"I don’t mind if I do," he replied, and sat back contentedly as she signaled him a beer.

It was all going perfectly to plan.

~~~

When Tom entered Maintenance, Dalby’s face split into a grin so evil that it chilled Tom to the bone.

"I can’t do this," he told himself in sudden panic and took a step backward, ready to flee. A firm hand in the middle of his back stopped his progress. He jumped in terror and spun around to look up into the large emotionless face of Greg Ayala. His mind flashed back to the first months after the Maquis joined Voyager, when Ayala had trapped him in the cargo bay and taken him repeatedly and then fisted him so badly that he had to have emergency surgery from the EMH.

He had never understood why the Doctor had no memory of the incident, why his grievous injuries had never shown up on medical or security records. Now he knew who had covered the assault up. Ayala had never touched him since. Probably he’d been warned off for damaging the merchandise.

Tom began to shake in terror. He felt his bowels loosen and cringed in humiliation as the rising smell gave away his loss of all bodily control.

"Really shitting yourself now, hey Paris?" Dalby laughed as Tom’s face burned.

"Just makes our job easier," snapped Ayala, grabbing Tom by the collar and dragging him into one of the cleaning bays.

Tom found himself thrust against the wall and held there by one of Ayala’s huge hands while the one on his collar pulled back violently, ripping his uniform in half. In seconds he was naked.

"Come on, Dalby, I haven’t got all night!" Ayala snarled and then with a vicious kick he opened Tom’s legs.

"Don’t, don’t…please don’t," Tom whimpered hopelessly.

"Got it" came Dalby’s voice.

"Well, hand it to me, you idiot. I don’t want to let him go!"

Tom felt a pressure on his butt and then felt something slim, cold and rubbery thrust up his ass.

"What are you doing? What the hell is that?" he screamed.

"Let’s show him," Ayala said to Dalby and flipped a switch.

Tom was suddenly thrust violently against the wall as the high-pressure hose was turned on. He twisted in agony as the water forced its way into his gut. He felt his stomach beginning to distend horribly as he filled up with the endless flow of water.

"Okay, cut the switch now," Ayala snapped but Dalby waited a few more seconds with a cruel smile on his face before complying. Paris thought that he would literally burst. He screamed helplessly in an odd high-pitched wail as Ayala held him firmly against the wall for several minutes. Then the hose was roughly yanked back out of him and Ayala let him go. Tom collapsed heavily to his knees, whimpering piteously.

"Okay, Greg… better stand back. You know what they say. What goes in must come out!" Dalby laughed and Ayala jumped back just in time to avoid the back rush as all of the water came flooding back out of Tom onto the floor of the stall.

Tom’s bowels contracted over and over, every particle of waste being eliminated with the water. After about ten minutes, when Tom had finished convulsing on the floor and he was sure that Tom was empty, Ayala grabbed the hose again and sluiced Tom down with the fierce, freezing water. When he finally turned off the hose Tom was huddled in the middle of a clean stall, trembling in cold and shock.

Dalby stepped forwards and grabbing the blond’s wet hair, yanked Tom to his feet. He looked into blue eyes that stared back in dazed bewilderment.

"Chakotay said you were to be clean inside and out, didn’t he?"

"Y.. Y.. Y.. Yes," Tom managed through his wildly chattering teeth as understanding dawned.

"Well you’ve never been good at following orders so until you get the point, you’ll have to come and see us every day!" Dalby smirked. "We have generously decided to help you, Tom. What do you say?"

"W..W.. W.. What?"

"Say thank you, Tom," Dalby ordered with cruel satisfaction.

"Th…Th… Th… Thank you," Tom mumbled in defeat, humiliation burning his face.

"Okay, Greg. Where did you put it?"

"What? This?" Ayala grinned, stepping forwards with the twin to last night’s dildo, only this one had several leather straps hanging from the base.

"No…no…please…" Tom mumbled as he saw the object.

"Shut the fuck up, Paris. No one here gives a shit what you have to say," Dalby snarled. "Bend over!"

Helplessly Tom obeyed.

Dalby grabbed a handful of engineering grease and plastered it into Tom’s ass with a brutal thumb and finger before taking the dildo from Ayala and jamming it into Tom.

As Tom screamed with pain and humiliation, he felt the straps being done up around his thighs, holding the dildo firmly in place and then the last strap was wrapped tightly around the base of his balls and cock.

"Stand up," Ayala growled and as Tom straightened himself painfully, Ayala thrust a pair of loose jogging bottoms and a matching T-shirt at him.

"Get dressed Paris, then go to the mess hall. Chakotay will find you there later. You had better not disappoint him."

Grinning at each other, Dalby and Ayala walked towards the door, Dalby turning as he left.

"See you same time tomorrow, Paris…oh and since those clothes took the last of your replicator rations, I suggest you remember to bring the dildo with you and that you undress yourself tomorrow or you’ll have to walk out naked."

Ayala chuckled and slapped Dalby on the shoulder in appreciation as they left.

~~~

"I don’t understand how I could have been so stupid", B’Elanna said for the umpteenth time. "I knew he was a pig! How could I have been so stupid, Harry? How could I have fallen in love with him?" She banged her fork down in frustration and the plates on the mess hall table jumped and clattered.

"It wasn’t your fault, B’Elanna. He fooled us both. I thought he was my friend, I thought he told me everything. Well, he never told me he was gay!"

"That’s what I really don’t get, Harry," B’Elanna replied, her anger suddenly replaced by complete bewilderment. "I mean if it had been Sue or the Delaneys or even Seven I would have understood, killed him maybe, but I would have at least understood it. How could he have spent all these years chasing after every woman on board if he really wanted a relationship with a man? How could he have done this to me?"

"Well, I shouldn’t say this probably, but I heard Dalby talking to someone earlier and it appears that this wasn’t a one-off."

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"I don’t know if I should tell you, I mean it’s just gossip I overheard."

"TELL ME!"

"Dalby said that it had been going on for years. That he had refused to let Tom make the relationship public because his Maquis friends hated Tom so much. He said that Tom’s affairs had been a smokescreen and that, that….." Harry hesitated at the murderous look in B’Elanna’s eyes.

"TELL ME, HARRY."

"That he had gone steady with you because you liked rough sex so it was easier to get turned on, even though you’re a woman," Harry finished in a rush, wondering whether he had gone too far.

B’Elanna’s face was almost purple with outrage. For a moment Harry feared that her temper would be turned on him and gulped in fear as he imagined her fork being embedded in him so deeply that he would have to wear it as a permanent extra arm. Fury flashed in her dark eyes and he hunched his shoulders protectively before he realized that her gaze was directed behind him. Turning his head cautiously he saw Tom coming slowly into the mess hall. He looked unusually pale and obviously was walking with difficulty.

"Where’s he been? He looks like he’s in pain," Harry murmured with concern before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to care.

"He’s been in maintenance with Dalby! Remember?" B’Elanna spat, "Why do you think he’s walking like he’s had a shuttle parked in his ass? Fucking bastard!"

The mess hall was filled with a sudden unnatural silence as she stood up. The other diners all ducked their heads in embarrassment as she stalked over to Tom, although more than a few furtive glances were cast at the scene which would undoubtedly be the highlight of the next day’s gossip.

Tom froze at her approach. He could barely stand straight and his cognitive processes seemed to have gone on holiday. He had come here because that's what he had been told to do. He had not even considered the possibility of meeting B’Elanna here and his mind swirled with panic.

He couldn’t possibly have been thinking clearly or else he would have controlled the instinctive expression that always appeared on his face in times of stress; the Tom Paris smirk.

With an outraged howl that would have rivaled any Klingon war cry, B’Elanna jumped forwards and smashed her fist into his jaw. Tom was spun back into the galley and crashed heavily to his knees. He made no attempt to get up. Neelix ran out of the kitchen in a panic

"What’s happening, oh no, oh no, you mustn’t do this, " he cried, fussing helplessly with his apron.

Meanwhile Harry had bravely taken his life in his hands and had grabbed B’Elanna by the arm.

"Don’t do this, Bel, he’s not worth it!"

No one had rushed to help Tom. Realizing that no one would, Tom slowly dragged himself to his feet.

"Should I call security?" Neelix squeaked

"No," Tom replied quietly "It was my fault. I deserved it."

"Damn right you did and if you come near me again I’ll kill you," B’Elanna hissed before letting Harry drag her out of the mess hall.

While everybody else studied their plates, Neelix helped Tom to an empty table and if he wondered why a punch in the jaw should make Tom grimace in such pain as he sat, he kept it to himself. His bright eyes looked around in confusion at the indifferent crewmembers. This wasn’t good for morale. Not good at all!

"Stay there," he said kindly. "I’ll get you some ice for that jaw and something good to eat. Maybe some nice Leola root stew…yes…that’s just the thing," and he disappeared back into the kitchen, bewildered at what had just happened and wondering why he had evidently been left out of a juicy loop of gossip.

~~~

It was 2330. Neelix had finally given up on trying to get the unresponsive Ensign to leave and had cleared up around him and turning the lights down to 30% had left the young man sitting in front of his untouched dinner.

Vaguely Tom had been aware of the passing hours, of the loud whispers and furtive glances as the other occupants of the mess hall had left. Even after the final silence of the Talaxian's departure he had just sat there in a daze, unable to move.

All he was aware of was the fact that he had been told to wait here for Chakotay and since Chakotay hadn’t arrived, he couldn’t leave. The unbearable tension had faded to be replaced by a numb feeling of ‘otherness’ as though he floated above himself, watching events unfurl from outside of his body.

He was aware of an intense lethargy, a desire to slump forwards onto the table and sleep, a wish to escape into dreams if only for a short while, but the dildo forced him to maintain an upright position despite the trembling of his overtired muscles. Even the smallest movement sent needles of what he vaguely perceived as pain, and unconsciously he obeyed his body’s demands to remain still.

Even in the dimmed light anyone would have noticed the silent tears that streamed down his weary face. But then, there was no one there to see.

~~~

At 0430 Chakotay’s alarm chimed loudly, waking him from a deep sleep.

For a moment he was disorientated and angry at the intrusion, then a slow smile spread across his face as he remembered why he had set himself the early call. Dressing swiftly he stopped long enough to grin at the reflection in his mirror and then picking up a padd from his desk, he went to the mess hall,

Even in the silent, darkened room he immediately spotted the motionless form of Tom Paris sat in an unnaturally rigid position in the middle of the room. Cat-like he crossed silently and casually sat opposite him. Tom didn’t react. His face was frozen, his eyes dazed and dark with pain.

For a long time Chakotay just sat and stared at the younger man, almost drunk with the feeling of complete and utter triumph. Until the mess hall doors had opened he had not truly believed that Tom would still be there. He was almost giddy with the knowledge that Paris was finally broken. That he had won! But, just in case there was even an atom of free will left in the blond, he still had one more Ace card to play.

He snapped his hand out and slapped Tom across the face.

Tom didn’t cry out, he merely shook his head like a dumb animal before blinking slowly and raising dull eyes to the Commander.

"Thank you for waiting for me, Paris, sorry I’m late," Chakotay mocked. "I merely wanted to give you this," and he placed the padd on the table.

Tom looked at the padd in bewilderment but made no effort to pick it up.

"Ask me what it is," Chakotay snapped.

"What is it, Sir?" Tom whispered.

"The duty roster for the next month."

"Oh," Tom said vaguely.

"I thought you might be interested in it, Paris."

"Oh," Tom repeated.

"Ask me why," Chakotay growled, frustrated by Tom’s apathy.

"Why, Sir?" Tom obediently replied.

"Because, as of 1800 hours yesterday, Ensign Paris has been relieved from the helm due to wanton dereliction of duty and is assigned full-time to sick bay until further notice," Chakotay purred.

As though from a great distance, the words floated into Tom’s sluggish brain. Tom had slept less than three hours in the last two days. He was light-headed from hunger. He had been raped, battered, punched in the face and humiliated. He had had his life ripped in pieces. He had sat on a hard mess hall chair for 8 hours with nine inches of thick rigid plastic rammed up his ass. It was no wonder, then, that it took a long time for the words to whirl around in the jumble of his thoughts before understanding dawned.

Just when he had believed that he was beyond suffering any more pain, the Commander’s words, finally grasped, were like an arrow into his battered soul. His eyes flashed and he gasped with horror. Wide-eyed he looked at Chakotay’s face and the Commander’s grin of pure malevolence dissolved any semblance of self-respect that Tom had retained.

"Oh no, Sir… please…. I’ll do anything, ANYTHING. Don’t do this. I’m begging you Commander," he sobbed uncontrollably. "Begging you, Sir… It’s all I have got left. Don’t take that away too! Please! Please! Flying is everything to me. Don’t do this to me. Please."

"Too late, Paris! It’s done."

In mindless panic Tom staggered to his feet and around the table to drop on his knees before the Commander and he clutched Chakotay's legs desperately like a terrified child.

"Please…please…don’t do this to me," he begged.

Chakotay face was like granite. He sat silent and unresponsive as Tom sobbed on his knees. Aware his pleading was having no effect, Tom’s tired and abused brain sought desperately for a way to pierce the Indian’s disinterest. Memories of prison assailed him, memories of how to use hard-earned talents to buy favors. Frantically he began to fumble with Chakotay’s uniform, clawing at the material to release the huge aroused cock that had horrified him the night before. Now he saw it as his only possible salvation. He couldn’t think past the urge to pacify the angry Commander.

Frantic lips grasped the end of the engorged cock. He ran a feather light tongue teasingly up the weeping slit, tasting the salty musk of Chakotay’s pre-cum. He worked his way up, kissing and licking as though his life depended on it. One by one he suckled on Chakotay’s balls until a soft groan above his head gave him the encouragement to open his mouth and swallow the Commander's huge member. Desperately fighting the urge to gag, Tom relaxed his throat until his mouth was mashed against Chakotay’s groin.

Bracing his feet and grabbing the back of Tom’s head to hold it firmly in place, Chakotay began to respond to Tom’s expert ministrations, viciously thrusting in and out of Tom’s hot mouth.

Tom’s whole body was rocked with each violent thrust. Chakotay’s hands tightened in Tom’s hair and tears of fresh pain pooled in the dazed blue eyes. With each jerk of his body, the huge dildo scraped maddeningly against Tom’s prostate and the intense pleasurable stimulation warred with the pain until he lost the distinction between them. As the sensation went on, faster and harder, Tom found his groin responding. The leather thong around his balls dug cruelly into his involuntary erection and as the pressure grew he lost all self-control and frantically humped himself against Chakotay’s legs in rhythm with Chakotay’s own thrusts.

Chakotay stood up to give himself more leverage and banged into Tom’s mouth as though he would rip it apart. Desperately Tom sucked and siphoned until with a great roar of triumph, Chakotay came inside him, filling his throat with hot salty cum.

Chakotay shuddered with pleasure at the hot, wet sensation as Tom’s throat sucked him dry. Tom’s reaction to the news had been far more satisfying than Chakotay had dared imagine. The others had not exaggerated the skill of Tom’s pretty mouth. Angrily resisting an unexpected urge to run his fingers through the soft blond hair, he stepped back abruptly, letting his softened cock slide out of Tom’s limp mouth and noticed with pleasure the unmistakable bulge in Tom’s trousers.

"You seem to have a problem, Paris," he noted scornfully.

Tom’s limpid eyes met his in an agony of lust as the pressure in his groin strained against the leather thong.

Chakotay considered for a moment, then shrugged magnanimously

"Take care of it."

With an amused grin, he sat back to watch as Tom, whimpering with relief, pushed the jogging bottoms down to reveal his engorged penis and fumbled desperately with the tight strap until his weeping erection sprang free.

Chakotay was surprised at how erotic he found the sight before him as, lost in his need, Tom ran his graceful fingers frantically along his swollen cock. It took no more than a few seconds before the young pilot shuddered, screaming loudly as his orgasm ripped through him and his cum shot forwards in an arc, splattering Chakotay’s boots.

Shuddering and gasping with the intensity of his release, Tom slowly came to his senses and burned with humiliation at his body’s betrayal. He ducked his head, overwhelmed with shame.

"You’ve made a mess, Paris. Lick it up."

For a second Tom hesitated and then he bent forwards in submission and obeyed.

Chakotay almost had another orgasm at the rush of power he felt, as he looked down at the sight of a half-naked Tom Paris on his knees, subserviently licking his own cum off his boots. He couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying than the scion of the Paris household groveling at his feet, cringing like a beaten puppy. He had to resist a sudden impulse to kick Tom in the face.

As Tom gave a last lick and rocked back on his heels, Chakotay stood , zipped himself up and strode towards the door without a word. Tom jumped up to follow but he forgot the trousers around his ankles in his haste and sprawled back on the floor.

"Commander!" he cried desperately and to his relief, Chakotay hesitated at the doorway and turned to listen.

"Yes, Paris?"

"The helm, Sir. Please…"

"I told you, Paris. You’re relieved of duty."

"But…but I thought, I thought…"

"Thought what, Paris? That I would accept a blow job as the price of your re-instatement?"

Burning with humiliation, Tom nodded helplessly.

"You seem to forget that you are mine now, Paris. I don’t have to pay you for what it is now my right to take."

"But…."

"You’re hardly in a position to complain, Paris, I’ve never met a whore who enjoyed being used as much as you evidently did tonight."

As Tom ducked his head in renewed shame at the evident truth of the cruel words, Chakotay laughed with satisfaction and strode out of the door.

~~~

If it were possible for a self-aware hologram to feel real emotion, the Doctor would have described himself as royally pissed off. As it was, he cursed his programmers for failing to provide the sub-routines necessary for dealing successfully with smart-mouthed, arrogant assholes like the pilot. Ex-pilot, he corrected himself.

He had been horrified when he had been notified of the new crew roster as soon as he had activated himself that morning. The thought of spending the next four weeks with Tom Paris as his unwilling full-time assistant had been enough to make him consider decompiling himself.

It wasn’t that the young man wasn’t a capable assistant. Indeed, to be fair, he had come a long way from his basic field medic training and had proved himself an asset in several genuine emergencies.

No. It wasn’t so much his lack of experience that bothered the Doctor, it was his attitude. His tendency to treat his sick bay duties as though they were beneath him. The way he constantly moaned and complained as he did the more routine tasks. How he bitched constantly that he was a pilot not a nurse. The incessant, inappropriate smirks and wisecracks with which he irritated the Doctor beyond endurance.

He had angrily conned Chakotay with a virulent protest at what he considered to be the Commander’s high-handed decision.

"I fail to understand why it is necessary to inflict Mr. Paris on ME! Surely the brig would be more appropriate. What have I done? Why should I have to suffer for his misdemeanors?" he had complained.

"What Tom needs is to learn ships discipline, Doctor. He won’t learn that by sitting in the brig, moping and feeling sorry for himself. He’ll learn it by hard work," Chakotay had replied firmly

"Hard work and Tom Paris are mutually exclusive," the Doctor sniffed, somewhat unfairly considering how much he had recently been availing himself of Tom’s programming masterpiece, Fairhaven. (Somehow the open-door policy of the program which everyone enjoyed had allowed everyone to conveniently forget who they should have thanked for it. In fact, it was only when something went wrong, and they needed a butt to kick, that anyone remembered Tom’s hand in the creation.)

"I think you will find that that has changed, Doctor. The Captain has given the situation to me; to deal with as I see fit. There will be no more acceptances of his insolent attitude and inappropriate behavior. Should you find anything in his actions to dissatisfy you, I want you to bring it to my immediate attention. In fact, it would probably be best if you inform him that I will be monitoring him very closely."

"I doubt that even that will make any difference," the Doctor sulked.

"Oh, no Doctor, you’ll find that Mr. Paris and I have come to an understanding." Chakotay had replied with just a hint of uncharacteristic smugness.

Despite the Commander’s words, the Doctor was unconvinced. He waited for 0800 with irritation. There was no doubt about it. He WAS royally pissed off.

~~~

By 1800 hours, as Tom put away the last of the instruments that he had spent the day silently stripping and repairing, the Doctor was almost beside himself with confusion.

Several times he had had to stop himself grabbing Tom by the arm and demanding, "Who are you and what have you done with Tom Paris?"

His sub-routines chased each other in mad circles as he tried to reconcile his helpful, humble and very QUIET assistant with the irrepressible Tom Paris that he had known for almost 6 years.

When the noticeably pale and tired Ensign had stepped through the door at 0750 (early for shift for the first time ever), the Doctor had immediately laid down the law, telling him in no uncertain terms that any attitude or disobedience would be immediately reported to the First Officer.

Tom had paled even further at the words and ducking his head had asked humbly, "What would you like me to do, Sir," in little more than a whisper

Stunned at the immediate capitulation, not to mention the "Sir", the Doctor had understandably suspected that Tom was playing a game with him. Lulling him into complacency before springing the trap shut on yet another patent Tom Paris practical joke.

He had brusquely ordered Tom to clean and recalibrate all of the medical instruments. When Tom had simply nodded obediently and started work, without the inevitable complaint at the boring task, the Doctor had KNOWN it was a set up!

Yet by 1300 hours the Doctor had found himself sitting in his office, unable to concentrate on any of his own duties. He was simply watching Tom’s diligent performance through the glass partition, and beginning to feel truly worried.

It hadn’t surprised him that Tom had declined to go to lunch in the mess hall, given the possibility of his bumping into B’Elanna. (It hadn’t taken the Doctor long to hear the tale from the crewmembers who had come for minor first aid and gossip that morning) and Tom’s confession that he had no replicator rations left had simply led the Doctor to assume that Tom had been gambling again.

No, what had rocked the Doctor had been Tom’s reaction to his gruff offer to let Tom have a bowl of soup from the sickbay account.

He had doubted the accuracy of his visual receptors when he had seen bright tears of gratitude welling in the Ensign’s eyes at the small kindness. Because he had only made the offer in irritation at the thought of the already too thin man keeling over in a faint mid-afternoon, the Doctor had suffered a previously unknown emotion; guilt.

For the remainder of Tom’s shift he had watched the pilot closely, becoming increasingly sure that Tom’s behavior was not an act. He was showing all the classic symptoms of a clinical depression.

He waited until Tom had scuttled out, barely hearing the pilot mumbling in panic about being late for an appointment in maintenance, and then commed the First Officer.

"I am very concerned about Mr. Paris’s state of mind," he stated portentously. "In my opinion he is severely depressed, possibly on the verge of a complete mental breakdown."

"Is there a physical cause for his behavior, Doctor?" Chakotay asked with evident concern.

"I…" the Doctor stopped in confusion as suddenly he received a clear memory of examining Tom which warred for a moment with the knowledge that he hadn’t. For a moment the two sub-routines clashed and his external image flickered in evidence of the conflict, before the new data merged seamlessly within his program.

"I have given Tom a thorough medical examination and have found no physical reason for his distress," the Doctor continued, unaware of Chakotay’s sigh of relief at the success of his tampering.

"I can only conclude that the problem is psychological. In view of my own, shall we say, less than successful attempts at counseling, may I request that you consider treating Tom in that capacity, Commander?"

"Certainly, Doctor, although I must admit that I am not sure when I can find the time."

The Doctor’s program glitched again.

"In my opinion, Tom’s condition is serious. He should not be left alone. I believe that he should stay with you, Commander, when he’s not working, where you can keep an eye on him. I am sure that there is room in your quarters for a small cot and that would give you the opportunity to counsel him in the evenings without interrupting your schedule too greatly."

"I will talk to the Captain about your recommendation and if she agrees with you, I suppose I will have to put up with the imposition. After all, crew welfare is the responsibility of the First Officer and some sacrifice must come with the job," Chakotay sighed.

"Thank you for your understanding, Commander. Voyager is lucky to have you," the Doctor replied.

As he turned away from the monitor, he wondered whether to ask B’Elanna to have a look at his program. There was definitely something a little off kilter today.

No, he was simply upset with the Tom situation and the last thing he needed was an angry Klingon fiddling about with his insides. Under the circumstances B’Elanna would hardly have her mind on the job. He shuddered at the damage she might inadvertently cause.

No, he would simply de-activate himself for a few hours and that should let his systems re-set.

"Computer, end EMH program" he said firmly, and winked out of existence.

~~~

By the time Dalby had finished "preparing" him, Tom had been made aware of his change of quarters. Ayala had not been present tonight. There had been no need. Tom had walked in, stripped, placed the dildo silently on Dalby’s desk and stepping into the stall had opened his legs and bent over.

Throughout the experience he never once looked at Dalby, uttered no sound except the odd involuntary whimper and had accepted the news that he was to go to live in Chakotay’s quarters with a single defeated nod, vaguely aware of Dalby’s disappointment at his failure to resist.

As Tom walked painfully out of the door, head down and shoulders drooping, Dalby decided that the sooner Chakotay got Tom trained to prepare himself, the better. He didn’t know how long he could take having the naked slut in his power whilst being unable to do anything about it. If Tom didn’t resist he would have no excuse to hit him and Tom’s pale skin marked far too easily for him to get away with it.

In Tom’s new mood of non-resistance he could probably rape Tom without the pilot being marked but Chakotay had told all of his Maquis co-conspirators that if anyone touched Tom sexually he would rip their balls off. Of course he could take Tom before he prepared him. The hose would remove all evidence and he was almost certain that Tom would say nothing, but it was the ‘almost’ that stopped him.

He knew that Chakotay would space him without hesitation if he disobeyed his orders. Chakotay had decided that Tom was his. Dalby knew that that meant he would never again get a chance at that sweet ass and that being the case, the sooner Tom stopped parading it in front of him like the wanton slut he was, the better.

~~~

"I won’t forget this, Chakotay," Janeway said with gratitude as they played rings. Behind them the raucous sounds of Irish singing filled the room.

She looked surreptitiously at the bar, catching Michael’s eyes and blushing as he winked at her suggestively. She swallowed and looked away, catching sight of young Harry Kim who was chortling merrily at something B’Elanna was telling him. She was surprised momentarily by the depth of distaste she felt at the way he had dumped Maggie O’Halloran since B’Elanna had become ‘available’.

It seemed uncharacteristically callous of him to be making such a swift and obvious move for his ex-best friend’s ex-girlfriend. Shaking her head she turned back to Chakotay.

"Really, Chakotay. I can’t believe you have agreed to the Doctor’s suggestion, although I realize Tom needs someone to keep their eye on him and I can’t imagine anyone else volunteering."

"Well I haven’t exactly volunteered. I won’t pretend that I’m happy about it, Kathryn, but our only other option is to keep Tom in sick bay and the Doctor doesn’t have the facilities for that kind of long term care."

"I know," Janeway paused as she took her turn before continuing "I’ll be back on the bridge tomorrow. I know that Tom will be spending his shift with the Doctor every day but I don’t want you burned out trying to do your normal routine when you will be up half the night counseling. I’m going to put you on half-shift for the time being and we’ll see how it goes."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Thank YOU, Chakotay," she replied with fervor. "Now, about that drink you owe me…"

~~~

Tom had arrived at Chakotay’s quarters to find that the access code had been changed to allow his entrance. He had walked into the empty rooms and uncertain of what to do had simply stood in the middle of the living room with his head bowed, swaying with exhaustion.

His whole existence had become a living nightmare. The whole of the last few days had become an unreal blur. He was almost outside of his body, looking in. The pain in his ass was nothing to the pain in his soul and yet he felt vague and unconnected as though his body really didn’t belong to him.

Perhaps this was a dream. Perhaps he would wake up in his quarters and find that none of this had really happened. On the other hand, perhaps the memory of his life ever being different from this living hell was the real dream.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t even decide what to do next. He instinctively knew that Chakotay would be angry with him if he lay down on the bed and even the thought of sitting down made him flinch. Finally he simply sank to his knees, his legs spread so that his throbbing butt hung between his ankles, his hands on his thighs to support his upper body and he dozed fitfully, in and out of reality, as he waited for the Commander to return.

It was about 2200 when he heard the swish of the door opening and the soft padding of Chakotay’s feet.

Chakotay paused, drunk momentarily at the sight of the kneeling blond, before swiftly stepping to Tom’s head and backhanding him across the cheek. Tom crashed to the carpet with a surprised yelp and scrambled desperately at Chakotay’s feet.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry..." he sobbed in bewilderment. "What did I do?"

"Lesson one, Paris. When I come into my quarters I do not expect you to be dressed, do you understand? You will remove your clothes and kneel here," Chakotay pointed at the wall opposite the door. "Do it now so I can be sure you understand."

Tom hurriedly pulled off his clothes and, crawling to the spot Chakotay indicated, he knelt submissively.

"Open your legs wider," Chakotay ordered. He kicked the inside of Tom’s knees in encouragement. Tom obeyed until his muscles of his thighs protested and his genitals were fully revealed, his cock jutting out vulnerably under the pressure of the leather strap.

Satisfied, Chakotay turned and walked back to his couch, where he sat with a contented sigh, stretching his legs comfortably before continuing in a gentler voice.

"That is what is called "In position" and it is how you will sit in all times when you are in my quarters. This way I will always be able to see what is mine. You will always be in exactly that place so that you are the first thing I see when I come in and so that I can see you any time I choose from my couch or my desk. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Tom mumbled, his whole body flushed with renewed humiliation.

"You are never to break position without my permission. You will not speak, eat, sleep, shit or take a piss without permission." Chakotay continued "Your body is mine and I will do anything I want with it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Chakotay noted the exhaustion in Tom’s face. He knew that Tom had now not slept for over three days. He had to be reaching the delirious stage where his sub-conscious and conscious minds blurred so that he could barely tell reality from nightmare.

Although Chakotay was aware he was going to have to back off and relieve the pressure a little or Tom’s mind would shatter so far that he would be of no use to him, there was one more lesson Tom needed to learn whilst he was in this receptive state. For Tom’s sake he hoped that it would not be long coming.

It was about an hour later that he noticed Tom was squirming desperately. Whilst he was still holding position, he was swaying in distress. Chakotay could see Tom’s genitals were swollen and red and Tom’s face was screwed up in agony.

Pleased that Tom had not made the mistake of talking without permission, Chakotay decided it was time to give a little slack.

"You may speak, Paris," he said generously

Through his clenched teeth Tom muttered, "Please, Sir. I need… I need the bathroom, Sir."

Chakotay hid his grin. Lesson two, here we come, he thought.

"You may release the strap, Tom," Chakotay said with deceptive kindness, laughing inside as Tom’s face filled with relief as he fumbled with the strap.

The sudden look of horror on Tom’s face, as he realized his mistake, that instead of relieving him the action caused the pressure to turn into uncontrollable raging need, was almost comical.

Tom was now bouncing up and down on his knees, tightly holding his genitals to try to replace the pressure on the straining faucet. He wasn’t sure he could make it to the bathroom now even if Chakotay agreed.

"Please, Sir," he wailed. " I have to go, NOW!"

"You may NOT break position, Paris. What else you do is up to you," Chakotay replied firmly.

Agony chased horror over Tom’s features. He understood what Chakotay was saying, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Toilet training was too deeply ingrained in all civilized people. What Chakotay was suggesting he did was more humiliating than anything that had ever happened to him before. (Which was saying something). He knew that Chakotay knew this, knew it was why Chakotay was doing this. But knowing didn’t help.

He had read stories of torturers making their victims wet themselves and had always wondered what the big deal was. Now he knew. He knew if he did this he would never recover, he would never be the same again.

The choice was taken from him as his body took control. He almost heard his mind go snap as his bowels ripped loose. Hot steaming urine spurted out and down his legs until he was kneeling in a puddle of the stinking liquid. His body heaved with mingled relief and embarrassment. His head dropped to his lap and wrapping his arms around his head he huddled in a tight ball of misery, the muscles in his back spasming with his broken sobs.

"Position," Chakotay snapped.

Tom obeyed like a stiff marionette. Weeping brokenly, he rocked back on his heels, his whole body racked with hiccupping sobs. Tom’s face was a mess. His features were red and swollen with crying, his glazed eyes huge and dilated over puffy black bruises of exhaustion. Tears and snot dripped over his slack, trembling mouth and down his chin.

Chakotay thought Tom had never looked so beautiful before.

Tom stared at him with the helplessness of a deer run to ground, thralled by Chakotay’s feral grin. The terror had been replaced by weary resignation. All conscious thought had burrowed protectively deep inside himself, leaving only a battered husk that didn’t even really look like Tom Paris any more.

Chakotay simply stood up and walked silently to his bedroom. He stopped at the door, saw Tom was still watching him with his bleak, hopeless eyes and pointed to a blanket in one corner of the room.

"You can sleep there," he said. "Oh, and make sure you clean that mess up first."

And turning, he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

~~~

The next few days were a blur for Tom. He would wake in the morning, stiff and cold from his night on the floor. He would hobble to the bathroom to remove the dildo and shower, before donning his uniform and accompanying the Commander to the mess hall where he would sit in obedient silence while Chakotay made a big public performance of fetching Tom's breakfast and making him eat whatever was put in front of him.

Vaguely Tom noted that no one sat with them. Few people even approached their table and then it was only to speak to Chakotay. No one spoke to Tom at all. Unaware of the fact that the rumor mill had circulated with its usual efficiency the tale of how ill Tom was, how near he was to a breakdown and should not be put under pressure by casual conversation, Tom only noticed his growing sense of isolation and helplessness. Not seeing the surreptitious but sympathetic glances of the other crewmembers at his unusual demeanor, he would walk slowly to the Sickbay and silently go to work.

As none of the visitors to Sickbay dared to talk to him under the Doctor’s watchful eyes, as no one made any approaches of friendship or concern, he became more and more convinced that EVERYONE was in Chakotay’s pocket. That they all knew and approved of Tom’s new way of life. And the more paranoid he became, the more he sank deeper into depression.

After each shift he would visit Dalby and then make his painful trek back to Chakotay’s quarters. He would strip and kneel in position and then wait for Chakotay. Every night Chakotay would return home and ignore him completely. Chakotay would change out of his uniform and into a comfortable robe to spend a few hours working or reading or watching a vid and then would rise, tell Tom he could sleep now and would disappear into his own bedroom until the next morning.

Other than those few words before bed, Chakotay never spoke, never looked at him and never touched him. Tom could feel himself going mad from tension. From the endless waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was not until the fifth night that Chakotay glanced at it him speculatively from the couch before putting down the padd he had been reading. Thus it was with a strange mixture of fear and relief that he heard Chakotay’s voice.

"Come here, Tom."

Tom rose nervously and crept forwards until he hovered uncertainly, about a foot from Chakotay’s knees

"Position."

Tom fell to his knees as though shot.

For a long time Chakotay merely looked at him with a pleased smile. Tom kept his eyes on the floor and willed himself not to tremble.

"You have pleased me with your obedience this week," Chakotay said softly and Tom hated himself for how relieved he was by the words.

"I have a gift for you, Tom. A reward for your good behavior."

Tom glanced at him suspiciously; sure that this was some kind of trick. Chakotay reached into one of his robe’s deep pockets and produced a large rubber butt plug. With a convoluted sense of humor, Chakotay had replicated it in the exact same blue as Tom’s eyes.

Tom swayed with confusion. *Some fucking reward* he thought dully, but couldn’t find the courage to speak. It was just too much effort, too pointless.

"From now on, you will return here after shift. I believe that Dalby has now taught you well enough that you will have no more need of his assistance. You may prepare yourself from now on. You’ll find that this is far more comfortable to insert," Chakotay grinned, holding the butt plug out to him.

Tom reached out a trembling hand for the object.

"What do you say, Tom," Chakotay mocked.

"Thank you, Sir," Tom mumbled, aware of the hot color staining his cheeks at the thought of inserting the gross object inside himself, yet undeniably grateful to have his nightly visits to Dalby curtailed.

Chakotay merely smiled, said "Goodnight, Tom," and went to bed.

For a long time Tom just sat there staring dully at the butt plug, tears rolling down his cheeks. Then he crawled into his corner, pulled the thin blanket over his shaking shoulders and tried desperately to sleep.

~~

"Tom appears to have lost his grip on reality. He sits for hours looking into space. He isn’t sleeping. He only gets dressed if I put his uniform in his hands. He will only speak if directly questioned, and then the answer is only yes or no. He will only eat if a plate is put in front of him. He jumps out of his skin if anyone approaches him."

Chakotay was ridiculously amused at his own words. Telling the truth was the best way to tell a lie.

"I don’t understand it," Janeway said in bewilderment to the other senior staff, as Chakotay reported Tom’s further decline.

"How could someone as full as life as Tom have become this ill so quickly?"

"I very much doubt it was quickly, we merely perceived it that way," Tuvok intoned solemnly. "While I cannot reveal Tom’s private memories, I must confirm that during the occasion that I mind-melded with him, there were various prevalent images that did not conform to my previous conceptions of him."

"In what way?" Chakotay snapped, suddenly worried.

"It would be unethical of me to give details. Suffice it to say, Tom’s external demeanor was not an accurate reflection of his true nature," Tuvok replied.

"I know he had problems after Caldik Prime," Janeway mused. "Hardly surprising given the Admiral’s reaction to the scandal and I recognized that his behavior when he first came on board was hostile and distrustful. But that was only natural given that he had been in prison. I certainly only got the impression that he was just a bitter, angry young man who had made mistakes but could be rescued from himself if only he was given a chance and he certainly seemed to be responding wonderfully, until now."

"Your private reclamation project," Chakotay agreed.

Janeway blinked as she thought she detected a tone of mockery in his voice but when she turned to look at him, his expression was friendly and open.

"I’m really letting this get to me," she thought. "For a second there I thought Chakotay was having a go at me, but that’s crazy. What would I do without him? He’s my rock."

As though the words themselves pained her, B’Elanna’s face was screwed up in a rictus of scorn as she spoke,

"Tom was never what people thought he was. He just played different roles. We all saw him differently; we all were shown a different Tom Paris dependant on what was most beneficial to him at the time. He just used people by pretending he was what we wanted him to be."

Harry Kim echoed her bitterness:

"I tried to be his friend. Did everything to get close to him but he had a secret life. No one ever saw the real Tom, just what he wanted us to see!"

"It is usual for a victim of abuse to not only refuse to show their vulnerability to other people but even to themselves. It is understandable that he created his, admittedly irritating, persona for camouflage," the Doctor intoned solemnly.

"Abuse?" Janeway snapped in surprise. "What kind of abuse?"

"Although I am not in full possession of all the facts, I can definitely confirm that Tom’s medical records from prison show systematic physical and sexual abuse was inflicted on him during his incarceration."

"But that doesn’t happen in a Federation prison," Janeway protested in utter disbelief.

"Generally not, " Chakotay agreed smoothly. "But remember who Tom was. He was the son of Admiral Owen Paris. He had been thrown out of Starfleet for killing three cadets. He was a convicted Maquis traitor. There were numerous reasons he would have been picked on, not to mention his looks."

"But that’s crazy," B’Elanna spat. "If he had been subjected to that…that…filth, why the hell would he get involved with Dalby? I saw them together, Captain. Dalby was hurting Tom and Tom was begging for it. It wasn’t rape. It was perverted and sick, but it wasn’t rape!"

"It is not unusual for victims of abuse to believe they deserve the treatment, to actively put themselves in situations where it will continue," The Doctor replied smugly. (He had been eagerly devouring reports on the subject). "I believe that Tom’s psyche was affected in his childhood. That is why he adapted so readily to accept the behavior he learnt in prison as something he deserved and perhaps even needed."

"His childhood?" Janeway repeated in disbelief. "No, you’re wrong. I know Owen. I agree he was a hard and unemotional man but I refuse to believe that he would have hurt Tom."

"I’m not disagreeing with you, Captain," Kim said quietly. "I mean it’s probably against regulations to slander an Admiral, but I do remember that Tom once said his only memories of childhood were of being alone in his room, crying. That certainly suggests that there COULD have been something wrong, even then."

"Tom had nightmares," B’Elanna said reluctantly. "Terrible nightmares. He used to scream and cry so much that I would have to wake him. The look on his face when he first awoke was always terror and helplessness. Like a child."

"Did he say what his dreams were about?" Chakotay asked with concern

"NO," B’Elanna spat bitterly. "He said he didn’t remember them. He lied. But then again he lied to me about a lot of things!"

"This isn’t getting us anywhere," Janeway said tiredly. "Speculating is not going to help. Let's look at the facts instead. Tom has suffered some form of breakdown, for reasons as yet unclear to us. He has been removed from the Conn. for obvious reasons, but I am unhappy about his posting to Sickbay. He has never been happy working there and he might perceive the posting as a form of punishment. It may be hindering his recovery."

"Perhaps I could attempt to help Tom reconcile his problems through meditation," Tuvok suggested.

"No, Tom is unlikely to respond to your ‘logical’ approach. Perhaps you could mind-meld with him again?"

"I understand that he is not currently capable of understanding what he would be agreeing to" Tuvok replied quellingly, his expression warning her not to even suggest an involuntary procedure.

"Then I’m afraid I’ll have to leave the problem for you to solve after all, Chakotay," Janeway sighed in defeat.

"What do you suggest then, Captain?" he asked.

"Tom will be placed on indefinite medical leave until he recovers. I think that that will be the quickest way. It will give Tom a chance to deal with his problems without pressure. Unless you object, Chakotay, I would prefer that he stay with you until he is more stable. There is still hostility between Tom and the Doctor. We will have to take advantage of your counseling skills instead. We can monitor your quarters whilst you are absent if you are concerned about his safety. I will adjust your shifts to allow you to have adequate time to counsel him. Tom will not get better unless we learn what the missing pieces are to this puzzle."

"Of course," Chakotay said softly.

"I want my Pilot back, Chakotay!" Janeway stated categorically. "Do whatever you need to, to help Tom get over this!"

"You can depend on me, Captain," Chakotay replied. He was filled with triumph. Yet again the situation had played in his favor. Now he would have Tom to himself.

His gloating was rudely interrupted by Janeway’s next words:

"I’ll call by tonight and see him, let him know that I care," Janeway stated to Chakotay’s dismay.

"I don’t really think he’s up to visitors, Captain. Believe me you would rather not see him in this condition and besides, it will be an added pressure on him if you witness him like this. It could do more harm than good," Chakotay replied silkily.

"Perhaps you’re right, Chakotay but I have to do it anyway. I have to see him for myself, " Janeway replied firmly.

"Dismissed, gentlemen."

Chakotay nodded in acknowledgement and stepped quietly from the ready room. Under his impassive features, panic raged. It was too soon. Tom wasn't truly under his control yet. He could give the game away!

"What the fuck do I do now?" he asked himself. "Damn the bitch!"

~~~

Tom was running so fast that his heart was leaping in his chest, battering his sternum like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He could feel the coppery taste of blood in his mouth as his lungs screamed with lack of oxygen. He was gasping and panting for breath, stumbling wildly over the forest floor. Scrambling sometimes on all fours to right himself as he tripped over the strewn branches that littered the moonlit path.

And above his tortured breathing he could still hear the black wolf’s approach. The crash of branches snapping and leaves shifting getting ever louder until a dark shadow eclipsed the pale moon. In the sudden absence of light, the two yellow eyes that floated in front of him transfixed Tom. They glinted hungrily with reflective glare. He felt hot breath on his throat and with a scream of terror he spun to escape but a huge claw ripped out of the darkness and hooked him, dragging him backwards. He felt the heavy paw close bruising, crushing his shoulder and his body was shaken violently. His howl of terror resounded through the trees.

A stinging blow across his cheek abruptly cut off his scream and he snapped his eyes open to gaze into the face of Chakotay.

"Wake up, Tom," Chakotay shouted as he shook Tom’s trembling body.

As the words sank into Tom’s fuddled brain he recognized that he was in Chakotay’s quarters, that he had been dreaming, that the wolf wasn’t real and that the only true danger he was in was from the Commander in front of him.

~~~

Bewildered by Chakotay’s demand that he got dressed and sat himself on the couch, Tom was unprepared when he felt the mosquito bite of a hypospray on his neck. Even before he registered the pain, he felt a nauseous fog descend.

"W…W…W…What was…. What…." he mumbled as the room span around him. Chakotay’s face began to recede as the room lengthened and twisted. Tom saw the furniture begin to warp and merge in a riot of color as it twisted into menacing tree shapes that cast long pools of shadow onto the carpet, which was rippling and shifting like the surface of a pond.

He whimpered as the pale shadows darkened and came to life, scuttling around him like ravenous spirits. The hissing sound of the door opening became a cacophony of whispers from the shadow ghosts and he looked blindly for escape only to see a nightmare approaching him cast into shadow by the blinding light from the open door. It was the wolf!

Kathryn Janeway stepped confidently into Chakotay’s quarters only to be brought to a horrified standstill as she watched Tom leap to his feet in terror at her entrance and throw himself to the floor. He scrambled wildly until he was underneath Chakotay’s desk in a flail of long limbs. She watched him wrap himself into a tiny ball as he rocked and wailed

"Go ‘way, go ‘way, go ‘way," he chanted at the snarling monster. The huge yellow eyes leered at him and he squeezed his own shut tightly to make the sight disappear "Go ‘way, go ‘way…"

"Tom, please Tom it’s me, it’s Cap.., it's Kathryn," she murmured as though to gentle a terrified animal and she slowly reached out a hand to touch Tom’s shoulder.

Tom saw the huge claw ripping towards him and howled.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

The Captain jumped back, her ears ringing with the sound of Tom’s anguish.

"Oh my God," she whispered at Chakotay who was watching Tom with evident pity.

"How long has he been like this?"

"A couple of days, off and on. Sometimes he’s just quiet and depressed. Like when he goes to sickbay," Chakotay replied smoothly.

"Can’t the doctor give him anything?"

"He’s on anti-depressants but since the Doctor says it’s not a chemical imbalance they probably won’t help. I’ve got a sedative for when it gets really bad."

"Really bad? You mean it gets worse than THIS?" Janeway asked in horror.

"Oh, this is a good day for him, Kathryn. It’s just the shock of seeing someone new that’s set him off. He seems terrified of everyone except me."

"How are you managing to cope?"

"I’ve seen it before," Chakotay replied sadly. "During the war. A lot of prisoners came back from Cardassia like this. They just needed time. Just needed a quiet place and someone to listen to them. A lot of them recovered."

"And what about the ones that didn’t?"

Chakotay shrugged helplessly.

"Sometimes people hide so far inside themselves that they can’t find a way back," he said softly. "If we were in the Alpha Quadrant, if we had access to proper medical facilities…. But as it is, all we can do is hope he comes out of it by himself."

"I noticed his face is all bruised. What happened?"

"Something attacked him earlier. An INVISIBLE something and he tried to run through the door to escape only he chose an INVISIBLE door. " Chakotay sighed, his pity tinged with exasperation. "Basically he hit the wall running."

"I had no idea…I didn’t imagine…I … I… I’m sorry Chakotay. I should have listened to you, accepted it when you told me not to visit."

"You only came because you care about him. You’re the Captain. It’s your job to care."

"If I cared I wouldn’t have been arrogant enough to think I knew best," Kathryn berated herself. "I will issue standing orders that NO ONE is to attempt to visit Tom again until you agree that he’s ready. "

Chakotay nodded his gratitude at her decision.

"If he ever IS ready," she added softly.

She had a sudden feeling of dread that Tom was not going to recover. That she would never hear him crack jokes on the bridge again. Never again see that insolent smirk. She couldn’t imagine the quivering wreck under the desk ever again sitting at the helm and saying "Yes, Ma’am" in that aggravating but charming way.

Tears pooled in the Captain’s eyes and her voice was gruff as she made a rapid escape.

"Goodnight then, Chakotay. "

"‘Night, Kathryn."

"Goodnight, Tom," she added in a sad whisper and it sounded like an eulogy in that stark room.

As she scuttled out, Chakotay breathed a great sigh of relief. He was pleased that the opiate had worked so quickly. Tom had been tripping so badly within seconds that he must have thought Janeway was a hell-demon. He’d have to keep a hypospray ready, just in case any other noisy bastard ignored the new orders.

"Stupid Bitch!" he snarled in triumph to the closed door. "Don’t come back."

~~~

Tom’s wary eyes watched Chakotay with suspicion. The big man was in unusual good humor tonight. Several times he had felt the brown eyes gazing at him as he knelt quietly in position and each time he had glanced across he had seen the shadow of an amused smile playing on Chakotay’s lips. He shuddered as he tried to imagine what the Commander was plotting.

Chakotay himself was warring with a decision between the satisfaction of watching the potentially entertaining scene of Tom being caught unprepared, versus the worry that Tom would react in a way that would embarrass him. Finally the Commander decided that the possible pleasure was not worth the risk. He would warn Tom and thereby secure his co-operation.

"I have a surprise for you, Tom," Chakotay purred, his smile widening at Tom’s wary expression.

"I have visitors tonight. Won’t that be pleasant," he drawled, as Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

Tom had not seen another person, save Chakotay, for over three weeks now. His world revolved around waiting for Chakotay, like a shuttle caught in the magnetic flux of a black hole, being dragged relentlessly to destruction.

Every morning Chakotay would ‘lock-down’ his quarters as he left, trapping Tom inside. Without access to the computer or replicator or even the bedroom , Tom would be left alone and unoccupied for 14-18 hours daily. He would pace restlessly like a caged lion for several hours and then curl in a miserable ball on the couch and try to sleep. At 18.00 hours precisely he would rise as though programmed to prepare himself thoroughly in the bathroom and then would kneel in ‘his place’ , eyes fixed expectantly on the door like a dog patiently awaiting his master’s return. Sometimes Chakotay would arrive within an hour or two of the end of shift. Sometimes it would be as late as midnight. The forced inactivity was maddening to him. To his shame, the highlight of his day had become Chakotay’s return.

For long hours he would contemplate this fact. How he simultaneously dreaded the Commander’s presence whilst he prayed that Chakotay would not return too late. How his stomach churned in a strange mix of anticipation and dread. How he was filled with happy relief if Chakotay arrived in a good mood whilst even the smallest of frowns on Chakotay’s face would make him quiver in terror.

Now Chakotay had thrown a curved ball. The edges of Tom’s reality blurred in confusion. Tom had almost begun to believe that he and Chakotay were alone on the ship. No-one had called him or visited him for so long that it was not beyond belief that the rest of the crew had completely disappeared. They had evidently forgotten that Tom Paris even existed.

Surely if people were coming, Chakotay would have to cover up his treatment of Tom, as he had so many times previously. Tom would have to smile and pretend nothing was wrong. Chakotay would orchestrate the situation so no one saw beneath the illusion. But the thought of conversation, of seeing another face, of being treated however temporarily as a real person was so tempting, so wonderful that Tom was prepared to willingly act the role Chakotay demanded.

No, he realized abruptly, his brief illusion of hope shattered, Chakotay had not said ‘they’ had visitors, he had said ‘I’. Perhaps Chakotay was going to drug him again and put him to bed to explain his absence. That was more likely, Tom admitted to himself with regret. Chakotay would not want to run the risk of disclosure. Tom’s stomach churned at the memory of the drug’s effects. He would do anything to avoid that happening again.

Chakotay watched the confused emotions chasing across Tom’s vulnerable features for several minutes before graciously saying

"You may speak."

"V…V…Visitors?" Tom queried nervously

"A few friends to play poker with me, I’m getting fed up of only having your company, Tom. You bore me. You’re no fun anymore!"

"And who’s fault is that?" Tom thought bitterly, surprised at how much Chakotay’s casual words stung him. Obviously Chakotay did not want Tom involved in his evening’s entertainment. Perhaps if he was compliant, Chakotay would not use the hypospray.

"W…W…Where do you want me to go?" Tom mumbled in his humblest voice

"I don’t want you to go anywhere, Tom" Chakotay replied smugly,

"Shall I…shall I get dressed, then?"

"No"

The single word filled Tom with dread.

"But…but," he stammered in consternation

"Don’t concern yourself. There’s no-one coming who will mind." Chakotay laughed

"I mind," Tom screamed silently, knowing from Chakotay’s feral grin that the Indian had heard the unspoken protest.

"Most of them have already seen what you’ve got to offer, Tom., so there’s no point in feeling shy!" Chakotay mocked

Tom shuddered miserably as the implication of that sank in. Tears of humiliation pooled in distressed blue eyes and Tom blinked rapidly to control them

"I…I... can’t" he whispered brokenly.

Gods, he had barely learnt to tolerate Chakotay’s eyes on him whilst he was in this naked and vulnerable position. The thought of other people witnessing his debasement was too much to handle. The urge to jump to his feet and attack the bastard before him was the first strong emotion he had felt in weeks. He tried to launch himself at the Commander but nothing happened. He couldn’t make his traitorous body obey. He simply quivered and trembled with repressed wrath and defeat.

"You may as well get used to the idea. I have curtailed my activities long enough to protect your feelings, to allow you to adjust to the situation. It’s time you stopped being so selfish!"

Tom blinked in astonishment at Chakotay’s tone of aggrieved martyrdom.

"Just a word or warning, Tom. I have a reputation to uphold. I do not want anybody to think that I’m not able to control my own slut. If you do anything to embarrass me., if you fail in any way to obey me tonight in front of my friends, you will regret it! You will PUBLICLY regret it!" Chakotay emphasized.

Thus, when the chime sounded at Chakotay’s door, Tom made no effort to conceal himself from the guests. He merely bowed his head and flushed with absolute mortification as Chakotay’s friends entered with loud exclamations of appreciation at the view before them.

That two of the guests were Dalby and Ayala came as little surprise and he vaguely remembered Crewman Mike "Smitty" Smith as one of Chakotay’s cronies from the Crazy Horse. Tom was aghast, however, when the young Bajoran, Geron, entered on Ayala’s heels. His astonishment grew when Geron proceeded to wordlessly strip off his clothes , folding them neatly by the door, until his pale naked frame was revealed. Finally naked he padded quietly over to Tom’s ‘place’ and sinking beside him, adopted position.

Tom risked a furtive sideways glance. The young Bajoran’s face was oddly serene above his naked body. Two vicious looking nipple clamps punctuated his smooth, hairless chest. His small penis jutted out proudly from a tight cock-ring and Tom could see that the swollen glans was pierced with a gold ring from which a thin chain dangled into a heap on the floor between Geron’s legs.

When the players were seated, Ayala snapped his fingers and the Bajoran jumped to his feet and hurried forwards. At Chakotay’s nod of approval he raided the replicator for refreshments and served each of the players in turn. As he passed Ayala, the big crewman grabbed the chain that dangled from Geron’s cock and hauled him roughly between his own legs. Tom watched in horror as Geron was forced to his knees. He watched the young man open Ayala’s trousers and suck him off noisily, in front of a rapt appreciative audience.

Feeling intense empathy for the young crewman, even as he prayed selfishly that Chakotay spared him the same fate, Tom was unprepared for the sight of Geron rising gracefully from his satiated partner with a wide smile. As he watched the Bajoran licking his lips like a cat who had been given cream, Tom was suddenly consumed with astonished hate.

The little bastard had enjoyed it!

Tom watched wide-eyed as Ayala slapped Geron lightly on his firm buttocks and shoved him towards Smitty who was leering in anticipation.. Again, Geron sank to his knees without protest and eagerly serviced the waiting cock. He finished Smitty with a huge slurp and crawling around to Dalby he unhesitatingly buried his head in the waiting lap.

Tom watched the performance in disbelief, noting that Ayala was smiling broadly, taking pride in the gratified reactions of his friends to Geron’s hungry mouth. Finally Geron turned and looked coyly at Chakotay from beneath long soft lashes. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips in invitation. Chakotay ignored the offer, instead he turned and locked eyes with Tom. He raised his eyebrows slightly in an ironic invitation to Tom to take over . Tom glared back defiantly, determined not to move until he had proved that he was being forced to comply and damn the consequences. Chakotay merely shrugged in amusement as though he had expected Tom’s insolence and was therefore unconcerned by it.

Tom shook with relief as Chakotay instead cocked a finger at the waiting Bajoran.

With a wide smile, Geron crawled to Chakotay, hesitating momentarily in awe at the enormous penis, before with a grin of appreciation he opened his mouth widely and swallowed. Tom, who was furtively watching with satisfaction at Chakotay’s failure to force the issue, was overwhelmed by an unexpected feeling of outrage. He flinched as with a wide dimpled grin the big man ruffled the Bajoran’s hair fondly as his cock was sucked dry. At the very moment of release he looked up and met Tom’s furious eyes and smiled mockingly.

Tom almost choked when he witnessed Chakotay’s gesture of affection to Geron.

"Fuck you, you bastard," he thought. "You never do that to me! You never smile at me or touch me like that!"

He was beside himself with fury. He couldn’t believe how fucking resentful he was of that smile. The fucking slut had been all over Chakotay. HIS Chakotay! Oh, God, had he really thought that? Thought of Chakotay as his? Yes, he was jealous, fucking jealous and that was crazy, wasn’t it? How fucked up was he if he didn’t know whether to be glad Chakotay had not touched him or mad with jealousy because he had taken Geron instead?

"Hi!" Geron whispered softly as he returned to Tom’s side, still licking the traces of Chakotay’s semen from his swollen lips.

Tom ignored him , snapping his gaze forwards again to see whether Chakotay was watching.

"It’s alright!" Geron re-assured him. "Greg said we could talk as long as we’re quiet and don’t disturb them!"

"Greg?"

"My master, Gregor Ayala, he allows me to call him Greg" Geron replied with evident pride. "And don’t worry, he wouldn’t have said it if Chakotay hadn’t agreed!"

Tom was suddenly swamped by a tidal wave of black rage. His anger was so intense that he feared he might explode. This little cock-sucking bastard seemed happy to be Ayala’s slut and evidently thought Tom felt the same way about Chakotay, which was embarrassing enough, but it hadn’t stopped him crawling all over the Commander , right in front of Tom’s eyes!

"What the fuck do I want to talk to you for?" he snarled viciously , his rigid posture shaken by tremors of fury.

Geron blinked in surprise.

"I thought it would be nice, you know, having a friend" he replied softly. "Someone who understands."

"Understands what? That you’re some perverted little slag who likes to be treated like a sex-toy? Crawling all over Chakotay like he belongs to you! Forget it! You and I have NOTHING to talk about! You want Chakotay? Fucking have the bastard, it’s nothing to me. I hate him! I hate you!"

Geron swayed with the force of the unexpected aggression, blinking in confusion at Tom’s words before understanding dawned.. Tom was obviously in denial. He’d been there himself once. Tom didn’t yet understand how fortunate he was to have been offered this lifestyle. That was obviously why Greg had taken him aside before the visit and ordered him to make friends with the Pilot. Greg expected him to teach Tom to appreciate his unique situation.

Geron suddenly swelled with pride at Greg’s trust in him. He wouldn’t let his master down, he decided. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, he began his attempt to win Tom’s trust.

"I’m so sorry, Tom. I didn’t realize that you didn’t want this!" he whispered in a compassionate voice. "I understand that you must hate me for seeing you like this. Hate me for being a willing participant in something that distresses you so much. But I don’t understand why you hate me for pleasing Chakotay? Since you don’t want him, why do you care if I do?"

"I DON’T KNOW," Tom spat.

"Why exactly are you mad at me?"

"I don’t know," Tom whispered, defeated by his own confusion

"I know you don’t want to be my friend but it looks to me like you don’t have anyone else to talk to about this. You obviously don’t know WHAT you want. Why not at least use me as a way of letting your frustration out?" Geron continued reasonably "I promise I won’t repeat anything you say. You can trust me because I’m not one of THEM." And he nodded towards the four men at the table who were completely ignoring them as they laughed and drank and dealt cards.

Beside him Tom began to shake. Oh, god he needed a friend. He needed someone to talk to, someone to understand what he was going through before he went completely mad. Before he broke under the effort of reconciling his hatred for Chakotay with his growing jealousy at the thought of anyone else touching him

But he didn’t know Geron, at least he had barely exchanged a dozen words with him since they had arrived in the DQ. He had had no idea of the Bajoran’s secret life. How could he reach out and make himself vulnerable to this man when he didn’t know whether this was a plot of Chakotay’s to trick him into saying things he shouldn’t. A way to find more reasons to punish him. As if the Commander needed a reason!

"I…I… can’t. I don’t dare," he whispered. "I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone!" and he ducked his head to hide the tears that had begun to stream silently down his face.

"It’s okay, Tom, we can take it slow. There’s plenty of time. We’ll be coming here a lot. Before you moved in Chakotay had a poker night every week. I’m sure that after tonight things will be back to normal. We can get to know each other. When you know me better you’ll maybe want to talk and I’ll be here!" Geron replied gently. "You can ask me anything and I’ll try to explain it. You can tell me your pain and I will understand it! "

"No, you won’t" Tom replied bitterly, "You accept this. You fucking enjoy this! How the hell can you possibly understand how I feel?"

"Well maybe you’re right, but from where I’m sitting you don’t seem to have any other people beating at your door to be your friend. "

"Some friend." Tom sulked

"Maybe I’m the best you deserve, Tom," Geron replied cruelly, tired of the conversation.

Tom shuddered as the barb went home.

For the rest of the long evening , Tom refused to speak or respond to him. Geron began to fear that he had blown it . As the game drew to a close and Ayala motioned to Geron to get dressed to leave, he felt sick at the prospect of admitting to Greg that he had failed. Therefore he was very pleasantly surprised when he heard Tom’s soft whisper of "Goodbye".

"Bye, Tom," he whispered back with relief. "See you next week."

~~~

For some reason, Tom had imagined that the humiliation of the poker evening would mark a change in his relationship with Chakotay.

Whilst he understood that there was a huge gulf between Chakotay's enslavement of him and Geron's apparent willingness to play some sick D/s game with Ayala, Tom had hoped that his own 'good behavior' would fool Chakotay into thinking that he was prepared to play the role too.

If only he could convince Chakotay that he had learnt to enjoy his captivity, the Commander might let down his guard and give Tom the opportunity to escape.

So, after the others left, and Chakotay summoned him, Tom swallowed his fear and bile and crawled submissively between Chakotay's spread legs and instead of his normal tearful compliance, he simulated intense lust as he swallowed Chakotay's huge cock. Moaning deep in his throat, he rubbed his own cock up and down the Commander's leg, humping himself desperately into arousal.

"Oh baby," Chakotay moaned in surprise, as Tom writhed at his feet in evident lust. He ran his hands through Tom's hair and pulled the blond tighter to him, gasping in pleasure as his cock slid unbelievably deeper into Tom's throat.

He should have listed to Ayala before. Seeing Geron's compliance had obviously turned a corner for Tom. For the first time, Tom's actions seemed to be driven by desire rather than fear.

Chakotay wanted Tom's obedience, he used fear to obtain it, but Tom's compliance would be so much better. Unless Tom willingly submitted, there was always the chance that his own duplicity would be unmasked and Tom would be stolen from him by those interfering Starfleet bastards.

Just the thought of Tom TRULY choosing to stay with him after all, was enough to make him cum. He pumped furiously and instead of his normal gagging, Tom sucked and siphoned at him as though Chakotay's cum was nectar.

Pulling out of Tom's slack mouth, he looked down at the younger man's crotch. Tom's cock was an engorged angry red, straining painfully against his tight cock ring.

"Stand up," Chakotay murmured.

Tom rose shakily to his feet, trembling in fear and unsatisfied need. Although his desire had been an act, his frantic rubbing against Chakotay's legs had created a painful side effect. He was ready to explode.

With surprising gentleness, Chakotay reached forward and released his aching cock and balls. The soft touch of the Commander's fingers almost made him shoot his load, then and there.

Tom whimpered quietly.

"Come with me," Chakotay said softly, led him to the bedroom and positioned his unresisting body face down over the edge of the bed.

*Oh God,* Tom thought. *He's finally going to fuck me.*

He shuddered at the thought of Chakotay's huge dick ramming up his ass. Despite the weeks of stretching and preparation, he knew Chakotay's thick cock would rip him apart.

Tom clawed his fingers into the sheets and clenched his teeth. He had been raped before. He had survived. All he had to do was let it happen without complaint and maybe, just maybe, Chakotay would believe he had been broken.

Chakotay looked longingly at Tom's ass. He wanted nothing more than to rip Tom's butt plug out and replace it with his own throbbing cock. But he didn't dare loose control.

He played with the end of the butt plug, adjusting it so he was sure the end was scraping Tom's prostate and then he opened his bedside cabinet and fetched out a stiff leather paddle.

Holding Tom firmly onto the mattress, with one hand on the middle of Tom's back, Chakotay lifted the paddle and swiped it down hard across Tom's quivering buttocks. The force of the blow jammed the butt plug violently against Tom's prostate.

Ignoring Tom's howl of agony, Chakotay laid a series of further blows. On the sixth, the pilot arched off the bed and came with a scream.

Leaving the blond sobbing in pain and confusion in his own cum, Chakotay put the paddle back into the drawer, returned to the living room and sank in contemplation into his favorite chair.

It was a long time later when Tom crept out of the bedroom and sank back into position. His expression was a jumbled mix of pain, fear, misery and a strange relief at his unexpected sexual release.

The stakes of the game had changed. But neither of them were sure at that moment who had just won the victory.

~~~

It was what Tom had begun to think of as "Boy's Night" again.

Chakotay, Ayala, Dalby, and Smitty were playing poker in Chakotay's quarters. They were sprawled around the table, drinking beer and laughing uproariously, as they joked about the week's events on Voyager.

Geron had stripped quietly and had sank into position next to Tom and in good humor their "masters" had said they might talk quietly with each other, as long as they maintained position and they did not fail to respond immediately should any of the players require anything. As though to test this, Chakotay had no sooner sat down than he had snapped his fingers at Tom.

Tom had risen with graceful alacrity and padding swiftly to the big man's side had swiftly furnished the table's occupants with the demanded drinks and refreshments, unspeakably relieved when Chakotay refrained from making him repeat Geron's performance of the week before.

Geron had noticed, with some fascination, the multiple bruises that colored Paris's backside and he winced in empathy as Tom knelt carefully back beside him. The pilot was obviously taking care not to let his throbbing butt touch the floor or even the sides of his ankles as he resumed position.

"What did you do, Tom?" he asked with horrified curiosity.

"Huh?" Tom said blankly.

"Your ass looks like it's been hit by a phaser on wide-beam," Geron stated with evident relish. "You must have really pissed him off!"

"No," Tom blushed furiously. "It's not like that! It's how he, well, how he's started to bring me off, you know, after I've blown him, I mean. He only does it if I've satisfied him. It, well, it relieves me, you know....." his voice trailed off in intense embarrassment. He couldn't believe he was admitting this out loud, even to Geron.

"You mean he does this instead of fucking you?" Geron asked in bewilderment.

"Yes!"

"With his hands?" Geron gasped, unable to imagine even Chakotay's strong fingers leaving bruises so deep.

"No, with a paddle," Tom muttered, blushing deeply.

Geron contemplated this with wide eyes. His cock stirred at the image of Tom bent over Chakotay's knee being well and truly disciplined. He licked his lips with sudden arousal.

"So, how do you feel when he paddles you, Tom?" Geron asked curiously.

"I hate it. I hate him. I hate how humiliated I feel. I hate the pain, the way my butt hurts afterwards! The only way I can sit for hours after he's beaten me is like this; 'in position!' That's probably why he does it," Tom spat bitterly.

"But it must turn you on, too! You said he never fucks you to bring you off, he paddles you. So it must be something that turns you on," Geron said reasonably.

"Yes..." Tom whispered, struggling to explain, "but that's just an involuntary reaction. For some fucked up reason, pain turns my body on...but it doesn't mean I enjoy it. It doesn't mean I want to feel that way. I might come when he beats me but it's just like... well, like when I sneeze when something irritates my nose. I can't help it but it doesn't mean I like sneezing."

"I don't think that you can compare a sneeze with an orgasm, Tom," Geron laughed gently. "But I understand what you are trying to say. I usually don't like it when Greg hurts me, either. "

"I NEVER like it," Tom stated flatly.

"So why does Chakotay do it? Why doesn't he fuck you? I mean, I know why he didn't at first, considering what happened to Simon, but you must be past having to worry about that by now," Geron said mysteriously.

"What are you talking about?" Tom demanded.

"Greg told me that he and Dalby taught you how to prepare yourself. He says you could take a torpedo tube up your ass now and not complain," Geron replied.

Tom winced at the crude and humiliating image but gave a low self-depreciating laugh. "Maybe two," he admitted ruefully. "But what has that got to do with it? Who was Simon?"

"Hasn't Chakotay told you?" Geron asked.

"No," Tom said.

Geron looked nervously to check that the players weren't listening.

"Maybe I shouldn't say anything then," he muttered.

"You said I should trust you. That you weren't one of THEM," Tom replied angrily.

"You can," Geron protested.

"Prove it," Tom challenged.

Geron sighed and then shrugged.

"Okay, but you didn't hear it from me."

"Okay," Tom agreed.

"Well, it was back before you joined the Maquis. Simon and I were about fifteen. We were prisoners in a Cardassian labor camp. We were friends, you know, orphans together. We watched each other's backs. Tried to protect each other from the rapes. It was hard because he was beautiful. He was delicate, narrow hips, fragile. Pretty as a girl," Geron sighed. He glanced sideways at Tom.

"He looked a lot like you, Tom, to be honest. He was blonder and younger and shorter and even thinner," Geron joked. "But all in all, you could be Simon's twin. I think that's probably why Chakotay got so obsessed with you from the moment he saw you. You were like Simon's ghost come to haunt him."

"So what happened to Simon? How did he die?" Tom demanded, stunned by the mention of his "twin". Was this the answer? Was this why Chakotay had turned his life into a living hell, just because Tom reminded him of someone else? "What did this Simon have to do with Chakotay?"

"Chakotay's cell rescued the prisoners in our camp, but we were pursued by the Cardassians and had to play cat and mouse for weeks to avoid them. It took a long time to get us all back to Bajor, and by the time they did, Greg put his foot down and said he was keeping me. Greg had decided he wanted me as soon as he set eyes on me. I was so relieved to only have to share my bed with one person, that I let it happen. When we got home he wouldn't let me go. I didn't have any family or friends on Bajor anyway and by then I had got used to being his, and...well that's my story not Simon's. To cut a long story short, I said I wanted to stay with him," Geron admitted ruefully.

"Chakotay was furious with us, but the Maquis wasn't Starfleet, you know. He couldn't just issue orders. He had to have the co-operation of his crew and Ayala was his right hand. Chakotay was different then, he was torn up with grief at his father's death and was bitter about having to leave Starfleet but he wasn't..." Geron searched for the right word "wasn't CRUEL then, just disillusioned."

"Anyway, Simon and I were like brothers. He said that if I was staying on the Crazy Horse then so was he. Chakotay refused. He seemed really worried about Simon's safety. It was obvious that he fancied him but he said Simon was no more than a child and needed to be protected from the war, from the chance of being captured again. Instead of taking advantage of him, he just wanted Simon to be safe. I told you he was different then!" Geron said, as he heard Tom snort with disbelief at the compassionate Chakotay that Geron was describing.

"So what happened," Tom asked curiously.

"I... I... I killed him," Geron sobbed.

Tom turned and looked at Geron in disbelief. He didn't even realize he had broken position until he heard Chakotay give a loud angry cough. He spun forwards again in panic, catching Chakotay's furious glare. As he trembled in terror, he saw Chakotay consider whether to punish the breach of discipline and then shrug and continue his game. Releasing his breath in relief, Tom waited for the frantic action of his heart to slow before he spoke to Geron again.

"What do you mean you killed him?" he queried in horror.

"It was my fault," Geron wept. "I couldn't bear to be separated from him. He was all I had. I knew how much Chakotay wanted him. I knew that if Chakotay was fucking him, he would be allowed to stay!"

"So?"

"So I told him to seduce Chakotay. I mean it wasn't like he was a virgin or anything," Geron said in self-defense. "How was I to know what would happen?"

"What DID happen?"

"Simon made a play for Chakotay, but he wasn't having any of it. He was torn up between lust and honor. He wanted to do the right thing but Simon was literally throwing himself at him, begging him to fuck him. Simon came to me in despair because he couldn't break through Chakotay's reserve. I didn't know anything about relationships. I only knew how Greg liked ME to be, so I taught Simon about the way Greg and I were in the hope that Chakotay would like it the same way.

"So Simon borrowed my cock ring and nipple clamps and got ready. When Chakotay returned to his quarters he found Simon waiting for him 'in position' offering him a whip and other assorted 'toys' to use on him. He told Chakotay that he could do anything he wanted to him. Chakotay was horrified, probably by how turned on he was by Simon's submission. He threw Simon out and he got really drunk, which didn't take much because he's never had a head for alcohol. Greg told me he'd had to put him to bed so I told Simon to go back to him! I told him it was his last chance."

Geron was crying again now as he told the tale.

"I don't know exactly what happened, no one does, but basically Chakotay fucked him and Simon died."

"What do you mean, how did he die?" Tom demanded.

"Simon was really small, you know, delicate and Chakotay is, well he's well endowed to say the least. He ripped Simon's ass open so badly that his bowels were perforated. It seems that Chakotay collapsed on top of him after he came and he passed out. Simon was trapped under him. He couldn't reach the comm. unit to get help. By the time Chakotay woke from his hangover, Simon was dead."

Tom's eyes filled with pity for the unknown Bajoran and for the gentler Chakotay of this tale. What the hell would that have done to the man to wake to the sight of his lover dead in his arms?

"Anyway," Geron sniffed. "That's when Chakotay changed. He never got close to anyone again. I mean he flirted with people like Seska but he never did anything about it. It was just an act. He was bitter and cruel. It was like he'd gone insane. He started to try to catch Cardassians alive just so that he could invent new ways to torture them. He never hesitated to bomb Cardassian targets even when they had 'human walls'. He was out of control for months."

"Then one day we were docked in this seedy port for repairs and Chakotay was ranting and raving as usual. We were all trying to look invisible. We were so pleased when he decided to take a look around and we got a bit of peace and quiet, but when he returned to the ship a few hours later, it was like he had been possessed. He was completely back to normal, joking and laughing with the crew. It was terrifying.

"We all knew it wasn't real. We could still see the monster in him, just lurking under the skin. You'd catch it in the corner of his eyes sometimes, that madness, but he never let it out. He suddenly found this mask of calm and became the Chakotay everyone on Voyager sees. None of them can tell that it's an act, that nothing is really different. Only the Maquis can see it, the monster under his skin, and they are so terrified of him they won't give him away."

"He left the Crazy Horse mad with rage at the universe and came back with a mask of sanity, but it's only a mask. Oh, and he brought one other thing back with him that day: a young pilot called Tom Paris!"

Tom was stunned by his sudden understanding.

Eight years. For eight years Chakotay must have planned this. Mad with grief and guilt, he had met Tom Paris and had instead seen Simon returned to him. But Tom hadn't been that confused Bajoran child who had spent years being raped and abused in a Cardassian prison. Who had so desperately needed love and acceptance that he had debased himself and thrown himself so desperately at Chakotay because he had nowhere else to go.

Tom Paris had been smart-mouthed and rude and self-interested. Tom Paris would never don a cock ring and sink at Chakotay's feet in submission. Tom Paris couldn't act like Simon because he hadn't experienced what Simon had. With the genius of madness Chakotay had arranged for Tom to be imprisoned and raped, to be battered near death, to be tortured to near madness, to become friendless and desperate.

Chakotay had MADE him become Simon.

And the true horror of his understanding was that it changed nothing for the better. He was still at Chakotay's mercy. He was still trapped in a nightmare with no escape. There were only two differences now he knew the whole story.

Firstly, now he truly knew the depth of Chakotay's insanity he was even more terrified of the man and secondly, and far worse, the pure unadulterated hate he felt for the vicious Indian was now tinged with pity.

~~~

"Shit ,Tom! What did he do to you this time?" Geron asked in horror, when they finished serving and were left alone to talk. The evident damage that Chakotay had done to Tom went far beyond the mild D/s he and Ayala practiced with mutual agreement. Even Dalby had winced when he had watched Tom hobbling brokenly around the table, and had not been able to meet Tom's eyes as he was served his beer.

Tom hadn't merely been disciplined, he'd been abused, tortured! The multi-colored bruises in evidence last week were now interspersed with vivid red welts and blackened scabs where Tom's skin had been broken.

"I think he's done some real damage to me this time, Geron. Forget sitting down, I can't fucking walk!" Tom gasped.

"So why the hell don't you just let him fuck you instead?" Geron pleaded. "He's out of control, Tom. He could KILL you!"

"I never thought I'd admit to sinking this low, but just now being fucked sounds great in comparison," Tom admitted with chagrin.

"So what's the problem?"

"He doesn't want to," and Tom began to sob helplessly.

"He must want to," Geron replied reasonably. "He'd hardly have spent so much time making sure you would survive being fucked by him if he had no intention of doing it."

"I know! I don't understand. He makes me, you know, prepare myself for him every day, without fail. He always checks I have done it. But he never does anything about it. He just paddles me instead and it's getting worse. Each time it's more vicious, more painful!" Tom wailed in confusion.

"Then there's something you are still doing wrong," Geron advised wisely.

"Something you do makes him choose to do that, instead of what he obviously really wants. You must be disappointing him in some way. Somehow you aren't fulfilling his expectations. To be honest, Tom, you aren't being Simon yet."

"That's because I'm not Simon. Simon's dead. I'm Tom Paris!" Tom snapped bitterly.

"Tom Paris doesn't seem like a good person to be, Tom," Geron replied gently. "Would it be so impossible for you to play along with him? To give him what he wants?"

Tom gazed at him with defeated eyes. "Maybe. But WHAT am I doing wrong? I don't understand!"

"So, ask him," Geron said reasonably.

"I can't," Tom sobbed in despair. "He'll kill me if I question him, if I admit that I know about Simon."

"I'm not suggesting you question his choice and I certainly would prefer you didn't mention Simon," Geron replied, paling at the thought of Chakotay's anger being directed at HIM. "Just ask him. As long as you are careful what you say, he shouldn't beat you for asking for a clarification of his orders. Greg never objects to me asking him questions as long as he knows that I am only trying to please him more with the knowledge, rather than complaining about what he does."

The following evening, Chakotay looked up from his desk, where he had been working for hours on overdue crew evaluations, and looked curiously at Tom.

Although the blond was too disciplined to have moved from position during his long attendance, let alone utter a sound, Chakotay couldn't fail to notice the dejection in Tom's shoulders and the waves of disquiet that seemed to flow from his quiet figure.

He wondered whether Ayala had been right about his advice to him to let Tom and Geron continue to exchange views. Tom had been unusually pensive ever since the young Bajoran had left the night before. Downright sullen, in fact. Sighing he put down his padd and regarded Tom curiously.

"What's the matter, Tom?" he mused aloud.

Tom blinked and looked up at him nervously from beneath his long eyelashes.

Chakotay saw a stream of jumbled thoughts and emotions struggling across the handsome face, but Tom was too well trained now to speak without permission.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Tom," Chakotay demanded.

Tom flushed with fear and licked his lips furiously whilst he looked for evidence of anger on Chakotay's face. Relieved to only see curiosity, he cleared his throat, which was dry with disuse, and struggled to frame a coherent reply.

"M... M... May I ask a question, Sir?" he whispered humbly, ducking his head, his hands trembling slightly on top of his knees. Chakotay noticed with interest that Tom's genitals had shriveled with fear as though they wanted to burrow for safety inside Tom's body.

This would be interesting, he thought.

"Ask away" he replied, magnanimously

" I... I... was wondering...um... wondering, why you haven't, um, well, why you have never ... never...." Tom's voice trailed off.

"Why I haven't ever what?" Chakotay snapped impatiently.

Tom swallowed nervously and then took the plunge.

"F... F... fucked me, Sir," he whispered.

Chakotay cocked an eyebrow in surprise. Perhaps Ayala had been right, he admitted to himself. He was certainly pleased with the way this conversation was going, although he gave no indication of this to the trembling blond.

"Are you questioning my behavior?" he grated dangerously and was gratified by Tom's flinch of terror.

"No, Sir. No. Never. No, I mean, I just don't understand. It's been weeks and every day I h...h...have to get p... p... prepared for you but you never..."

Tom hesitated, trying to find the words to express his feelings. Chakotay frowned with obvious impatience and Tom rushed to continue. His words stumbled over each other in his haste to explain:

"You never want me that way. Geron said it is my fault that you paddle me instead of fucking me. I don't know what I'm doing wrong! I don't want you to beat me anymore. I'd do anything to stop the pain. But I have to know what I am doing wrong! I need to know what I need to do to please you, Sir!" Tom pleaded.

"You need to ask me, Tom!" Chakotay replied. "Understand this, Tom. Being fucked by me is a privilege you will have to BEG me for."

~~~

"So did you?" Geron asked breathlessly, as they sat together during the next Maquis poker session, although the state of Tom's ass suggested the negative.

"No fucking way!" Tom replied with a vehement glare at the Bajoran. "I might be unable to stop him doing anything he wants to me, but no way am I going to let him screw with my head, until I think I want him to treat me this way."

"It would be better for you if you did, Tom. SIMON would have begged him. You can't imagine what our life was like then. We were war orphans in the Cardassian camps. We had no family to protect us. No friends except each other. We were just pieces of meat to be flung around for any one who wanted a piece. For Simon, the idea of belonging to Chakotay was the closest thing he could imagine to heaven. I felt the same about Greg. No one valued me before him. I had no self-respect."

"And you have it now?" Tom laughed sarcastically. "As a living sex-toy for a sadistic pervert?"

"It's not like that, Tom. Sex is only a part of it and Greg sometimes hits me but it's just slaps, you know, just disciple because I've disobeyed him. Greg looks after me. He would kill anyone else who so much as touched me without his permission," Geron replied with pride. "He says his need to control me only proves how much he loves me. Proves that he thinks my value is so high that he can't allow me to leave him. I never experienced that kind of passion before. I never believed that a lover could want me so much that he had to own me body and soul."

"You're not his lover. You're his whore, his property," Tom snarled.

"No, Tom. You don't understand. Greg only forced me at first because I didn't have the sense to realize what a gift he offered me, and when I finally understood, I accepted with gratitude. We don't fight anymore. Our roles are defined. We both know what we each expect of each other. I have chosen to accept this lifestyle, it's who I am, who I want to be. I can't imagine being anything except Greg's property. I only do what he tells me, so I can't ever be wrong. If I cock-up, it's his fault not mine. I'm not responsible for anything anymore, and Greg says my life started the day I accepted his ownership of me. My past is gone. My guilt has gone. I'm happy. I'm free in a way that you can't understand."

Tom swayed with the realization that what Geron described was what he wanted. To be at peace. To be able to leave his past behind forever. To stop feeling responsible for all of his decisions. To have someone to guide him and prevent him from lurching from one horrendous mistake to the next. But the price was too high! This perverted debasement was the last thing he would ever choose. It sickened him that he even considered Geron's opinion might have value.

"You're fucking, sick!" Tom spat in outrage "You're mad. You call THIS freedom? Look at us kneeling here naked, expected to wait patiently whilst they play cards and get drunk. At their beck and call for whatever sick fantasy they come up with next. Beaten for even speaking or moving without permission. I can't even shit without asking if that's okay. Do you know how many times I've wet myself on this floor and then sat for hours in my own filth because the bastard wouldn't let me go to the bathroom in time and then he's hit me for making a mess? I would give anything to get out of this prison, to get away from Chakotay."

Geron looked at him with a curious sympathy before shaking his head in denial.

"I don't believe you, Tom. I can see it in you. You're just like me underneath. I know that Chakotay is different from Greg, that there are other issues here. But still... You need to belong to someone stronger than you, who can keep you under control. I felt like you once, when Greg first claimed me. I fought him all the way. But when it came to it, when he gave me the chance to leave, I didn't want to. And neither will you."

"He's brainwashed you, you stupid bastard. He's made you believe it. He's taught you to believe this is what you want."

"Maybe so," Geron acknowledged. "But what's the difference, since I do believe it? I'm happy, Tom, for the first time in my life. Isn't that all that counts?"

And Tom had no answer for that.

~~~

It was very late when the drunken Maquis finally reeled out of Chakotay's quarters. Ayala and Geron were last to go. Ayala had stayed and talked at length with Chakotay, after Dalby and Smitty had gone. Tom had noticed with trepidation that the subject of the conversation was obviously HIM, judging by the numerous thoughtful glances cast in his direction by Chakotay.

At last, Ayala summoned Geron and left. As the doors closed them, Tom automatically crawled forwards submissively until he was between the Commander's knees. Chakotay undid the belt of his robe and it fell open to reveal his proudly rearing cock. As Tom opened his mouth and bent his slender neck to swallow the head, he was stilled by a touch on his forehead.

"Slowly, Tom. I want you to take your time tonight. I want you to make this last. Don't disappoint me," he warned quietly.

So with tiny, fairy licks, Tom worshipped Chakotay. Kissing and sucking. Nibbling softly on the taut skin. Chewing softly on the swollen balls, until his neck ached with strain. Whenever the Commander felt his over sensitized nerves responding too enthusiastically, he would stop Tom with a firm hand and wait until the sensations faded before allowing him to continue. In this fashion, they continued for almost an hour. Tom was overwhelmed with the musky scent and taste of the Commander.

By now he was programmed like Pavlov's dog to expect his own release after sucking Chakotay off. His bruised ass muscles clenched in desperate spasms around the butt plug and he writhed helplessly at Chakotay's feet, panting with frustration. He looked up pleadingly for permission to bring the act to conclusion.

Sighing with the acknowledgement of his own desire, Chakotay nodded permission, gasping as Tom swallowed his cock. By now it was so sensitive that Chakotay's balls immediately drew up and he exploded into Toms' mouth, roaring as the blond drank him dry. By the time he had swallowed the last of Chakotay's semen, Tom was sobbing and rocking with his own need. He looked beseechingly into the Indian's brown eyes.

"Fetch the paddle then, Tom," Chakotay sighed in irritation. He couldn't really be bothered tonight, but didn't want to undo his careful conditioning by being inconsistent.

Tom stood up slowly and, hampered by his erection, he hobbled towards the bedroom to collect the instrument of his release. He couldn't bear to be left unfulfilled but even the thought of receiving another beating on his battered ass made him want to vomit. He hesitated at the door, and then completely surprised himself with a momentous decision. He looked back questioningly, his cock stirring hungrily at the magnificent sight of the satiated Indian. He flushed as Chakotay noticed his vacillation.

"Do you have something you want to ask me instead, Tom?" Chakotay purred with sudden interest.

Tom blushed furiously as he nodded.

"What do you want, Tom?"

"I want you to please fuck me instead, Sir," Tom whispered in defeat.

Triumph welled behind Chakotay's mask of indifference. "I can't hear you, Tom! You'll have to speak up!"

"Please fuck me, Sir," Tom repeated louder. "Please fuck me," and swallowing all pretence of pride, he said the words that he knew Chakotay was waiting to hear.

The words he had sworn never to utter. Simon's words.

"I am begging you to fuck me, Sir!"

He looked up at the Commander, flinching in anticipation of Chakotay's gloating expression, only to be stunned instead by a look of complete distaste.

"I don't know... I don't think I want to. You don't deserve to be fucked, Tom," Chakotay replied, looking away in a pretense of boredom.

"Please, Sir," Tom sobbed in desperate panic. Having finally given in, he was horrified by the thought that Chakotay might deny him. It had never occurred to him that Chakotay might refuse.

"I know I don't deserve it. I don't even know why I want it," he wailed. "I just know I can't wait any longer. I need you to do it. I need you to take me."

Chakotay appeared to consider Tom's request, then shook his head slowly.

"I don't think so," he stated flatly.

Tom was crying and shaking now, his pale body colored fiercely with the humiliation of this ultimate rejection.

"You once said I was a just a hole for you to jerk off in. I don't care if you think of it as jerking off in me, just fuck me, PLEASE!" Tom begged.

Chakotay's limp cock sprang back to life at the shameless words. Tom's wild eyes widened at the sight, as relief at Chakotay's reaction made him stagger drunkenly with unholy anticipation.

"Are you finally ready to admit that this is what you have wanted all along, then? That you are burning with desire for my touch?"

"Yes, Sir," Tom sobbed. "I'll go mad if you don't take me, Sir. I'm yours!"

As though released from invisible shackles, Chakotay leapt forwards and grabbed the trembling young man by the shoulders. Fiercely he pulled Tom's mouth to his own for the very first time and he thrust his hot tongue between lips slack with desire. As he plundered the soft inviting mouth, tasting the salty residue of his own cum, he reached down and roughly ripped the butt plug out of Tom, causing the younger man to moan and shudder desperately in his arms.

Slowly, without releasing Tom's mouth, he shoved him backward into the bedroom. Sucking furiously at Tom's tongue, biting sharply on his lips, Chakotay pushed him down onto the bed. Tom flailed gracelessly as he hit the bed with a painful thump. Chakotay grabbed Tom's legs by the ankles and hauled him to the very edge of the bed before thrusting the pale legs over his shoulders, until Tom's ass was suspended in the air, level to Chakotay's groin.

Tom's eyes were scrunched tightly closed. His arms were sprawled at his sides and his fingers clutched spasmodically at the bedclothes. Chakotay gazed at the puckered opening to Tom's anus, which glistened darkly with the lubrication from the butt plug. He touched it experimentally with his fingers and saw the muscles relax automatically as Tom opened like an unfurling flower. He gazed with lust into the private depths of Tom Paris.

At the touch of Chakotay's fingers, Tom began to squirm with need. His chest was heaving and his cock bobbed wildly towards his chest, weeping with pre-cum.

"Open your eyes, Tom. I want you to watch me as I fuck you," Chakotay ordered, and with visible effort Tom complied, shuddering in fear at the sight of Chakotay's huge cock poised before his vulnerable entrance, even as found himself pushing his weight back into his shoulders to allow the invader easier access.

For a moment, Chakotay paused, plagued with doubt, lost in a flashback to a drunken night so many years before. Then lust took over. He reached into one of his pockets and retrieved a tube of lubrication that had been gathering dust for weeks in promise of this night. He slavered a generous dollop along his swollen length, until it shone silver in the dim light.

Slowly, Chakotay guided his penis to the shining hole until the bulbous head was sat in position. Then, firmly grabbing Tom by the hips to hold him in place, he jerked forwards in one merciless thrust until his balls slapped against Tom's.

He waited a moment, until Tom's sudden scream of unbelievable pain faded back into frantic moans of desire, and only then did he begin to slowly rock back and forth. As his cock slipped in and out of the hot, tight passage, he began to moan in time with Tom. He adjusted his angle and speeded up, his strokes faster and faster, until Tom wailed in abandonment.

Chakotay thrust harder and harder until, even with the lubrication and Tom's weeks of careful preparation, he was tearing small rips in the skin of Tom's anus. With each stroke, he nearly came out before driving back in to the hilt so violently that his balls hit Tom's bruised butt with a resounding slap. Tom was screaming with agonized pleasure. His eyes closed tightly again in his reddened face as he came with a howl, splattering himself with pearly streams of cum.

Chakotay swiftly dropped Tom's legs from his shoulders and pulled out, before the clenching of Tom's ass muscles could milk his own cock. He watched while Tom jerked and shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm and then he stepped forwards again and expertly flipped Tom over onto his face.

Folding the limp body into a kneeling position, he thrust Tom's shoulders down until he was bent almost double, his face into the bedcovers, his bleeding ass quivering expectantly in the air.

Chakotay stepped behind him and grabbed Tom's hips again for control, as he ground his still firm erection back into the inviting hole. This time he took his time. He thrust slowly, reaming Tom's butt, twisting his body slightly with each entry, to hit Tom's prostate from different angles. Tom braced his hands on the bed and pushed back against Chakotay, incoherent with ecstasy.

"Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh," he moaned with each thrust. His whole body was on fire with sensation. At some level he was aware of the burning pain inside him, of the certainty that Chakotay was ripping him a new asshole, but the overwhelming sensation was an erotic pleasure that was so intense, he thought he might die from it.

Chakotay reached forwards and grasped Tom's cock, feeling it spring back to life at his touch. He began to knead it viciously in time to the movements of his own body and Tom began to buck desperately under him with each firm squeeze.

Chakotay rode him with merciless skill. He slid his hand down to Tom's balls and gave them a cruel twist and Tom screamed and came again in an arcing torrent.

Chakotay shuddered with pleasure, as Tom's muscles clenched down on his cock, and he pumped furiously. Tom slid down into a boneless heap on the bed and Chakotay collapsed heavily on top of him as he came with a triumphant roar.

"SIMON," he screamed, and passed out.

~~~

Tom lay weeping deliriously, crushed under Chakotay’s bulk.

Chakotay’s sweat was trickling like sharp needles into the torn and battered skin of his ass. His insides were burning; he ached with the throbbing bruises growing on his hips and groin from Chakotay’s cruel hands, yet he had never felt so sexually satisfied in his life. He sobbed with shame at having responded so passionately to the dark and dangerous man, who had taken him so brutally and yet with such skill.

As always, the sensations of pain and pleasure had merged until the ecstasy of the sexual stimulation had completely negated the humiliation and he had shamelessly writhed in complete abandon under the Commander's assault. But now, all he could feel was the agony of his abused ass and the bitter knowledge of his own helplessness to resist. Now Chakotay knew that he WAS the whore that the Maquis had proclaimed him, and he would never escape the bastard's clutches.

Maybe he deserved this, Tom told himself despairingly. Perhaps Chakotay's abuse of him was justified. He was Tom's punishment for Caldik Prime, after all. Tom could almost see the ghosts of his dead comrades mocking him, their accusing fingers harsh and unforgiving as he suffered his own unending, private hell.

Chakotay listened to Tom's sobs quieting and felt the blond's heaving shoulders began to cease their trembles until Tom lay still and passive beneath him. Chakotay couldn’t wait any longer for a confrontation and rolling heavily off the slender pilot he turned Tom's tear ravaged features over to face him.

"Well? Wasn’t it worth begging for?" he demanded, staring deeply into Tom’s glazed eyes with an almost pleading expression, that stunned the younger man.

Chakotay watched a myriad of emotions chase over Tom’s face. Anger, fear, confusion and embarrassment warred on the pale features as he evidently processed their shared sexual encounter and weighed the pain against the bodily pleasure that he couldn't deny having experienced. He watched as Tom gave a slow reluctant nod.

"Yes, Sir," Tom said honestly, in a soft defeated voice.

Chakotay jumped with barely contained excitement at the curiously familiar expression on Tom’s face.

"How do you feel? Right now? What are you thinking at this moment?" He demanded urgently.

Tom shook his head helplessly, unable to vocalize his bewildering emotions. He was too frightened of saying the wrong thing and provoking Chakotay back into renewed cruelty. For a moment he was actually tempted to admit that he now acknowledged that his treatment at Chakotay's hands was no more than he deserved.

"Don’t THINK about it, Simon. Just say it, here and now. What do you feel?" Chakotay demanded harshly as he grasped Tom’s thin shoulders and shook him savagely until his teeth chattered.

Tom cowered under the assault, yet his mind raced furiously as he heard Chakotay call him by Simon’s name again. An almost forgotten spirit of defiance sparked deep inside him.

Chakotay was insane, he realized. Completely, certifiably, stark raving mad. And if that was true, then why the hell should the big man's treatment of him be any less crazy? He DIDN'T deserve to be treated like this - no one did, and his physical reaction to the abuse was involuntary, a Pavlovian response inbuilt by years of being raped and assaulted. Assaults that it turned out had all been orchestrated by this same maniac Maquis warrior.

Tom realized that his physical reactions had been carefully trained by Chakotay ,and the other Maquis in his pay, until his mind barely knew the difference between pleasure and pain. His battered soul, so desperate to make reparation for something that could never be made right, had latched inexorably on the abuse as being a punishment that he deserved. But no one deserved to be treated this way, he realized belatedly. Chakotay didn't even realize that he WAS Tom Paris, so this wasn't personal redemption; it was just pointless sadism after all.

Yet, perhaps this bizarre manipulation of his psyche by Chakotay could become the key to his freedom.

Chakotay wanted Simon; he loved Simon, even if it was in a sick and diseased way. Tom’s only hope of ever gaining his freedom was if he cleverly played to Chakotay’s madness and pretended to BE Simon, just as Geron had suggested.

"I love you, Sir," Tom mumbled and then ducked his head as though in defeat.

Chakotay grasped Tom’s face in delight and forced the younger man to look at him. Tom flinched in terror that he had miscalculated, but then relaxed minutely as he recognized the gleeful triumph that blazed in Chakotay’s eyes, softening his harsh face.

"Do you have any idea how long I have waited to hear that, Simon? Eight long years. Eight years ago I looked at you and knew that you would come back to me, that you would give me a second chance, that you would be mine. That I would teach you to love me again!" Chakotay crowed jubilantly.

I know, Tom thought, I know exactly what you believed, you mad fucker. I know everything and I understand everything now. It was you all along, playing on my insecurities, making me believe I deserved to be hurt, breaking my body and my spirit. But no more, you bastard, no more!

Yet he was still ridiculously moved by the tears that were freely pouring down Chakotay’s face. It was difficult to hold on to his pure fire of righteous anger as he was simultaneously consumed by a strange sympathy for the big man, as Chakotay’s deranged words continued to gush excitedly.

"I knew you had forgotten what we had shared; that you hated me for killing you. But I knew I could get you back. Knew I could bring you to this point, knew I could recreate the taste in you for the kind of pleasures that we enjoy together. It took a long time for you to learn these lessons, Simon, and you have only got yourself to blame for all the pain you have suffered in resisting me. In trying to punish me for killing you when it was YOUR FAULT!"

Tom listened with growing alarm. He had not fully realized until now just how completely Chakotay had lost himself in his fantasy. He hadn’t fully understood before how tenuous Chakotay’s grasp on reality had become. How the hell was Chakotay maintaining his public mask of sanity? The thin veneer must surely be cracking under the weight of this much inner confusion. Yet the more convinced he became of Chakotay's insanity, the stronger his new feelings of self-preservation became. Chakotay was on the edge, ready to explode into total madness and the resultant debris would shatter everyone around him.

Tom was determined not to be left broken in the wake.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," He mumbled placatingly.

"Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me? Letting other people take you? Preparing you so that I wouldn’t hurt you like before? And all you have done is complain and gripe like a selfish child. You have fought me every step of the way. It was YOUR fault. All of it," Chakotay sobbed bitterly.

"I know it’s all been my fault, Chakotay," Tom whispered quietly, careful to keep any accusation from his voice. "I do love you Chakotay and I want to stay with you but - but you have to stop hurting me if we are going to be together."

Tom held his breath as Chakotay absorbed his hesitant words. For a moment the older man’s face softened further and he traced Tom’s bruises with his fingertips as though shamed. Then his eyes blazed again.

"This is how YOU wanted it, Simon. You TOLD me this was how you wanted me to be. You BEGGED me to let you be my slave!" He accused furiously.

*Shit. If you weren’t dead, Simon, I’d kill you myself you stupid sick bastard!* Tom thought, as Chakotay’s fingers tightened brutally on his bruised hips.

"You’re right, Chakotay, I did," Tom agreed soothingly "But it’s only supposed to be a game. A private game. Like Ayala and Geron play. It’s not supposed to really hurt me or stop me doing my job on Voyager."

Chakotay blinked uncertainly and Tom held his breath as the older man looked at him thoughtfully. Without warning, Chakotay ran a fingernail sharply up Tom’s penis and smirked as Tom’s body jerked back to arousal at his touch.

"You seem to like the games I do play, well enough," He sneered.

Fresh tears of humiliation pooled in Tom’s terrified eyes but were quickly blinked away. Even crazed with fear, now that he had identified that his recent ambivalent feelings towards Chakotay were really a textbook case of Stockholm syndrome, Tom felt more in control. It had been natural for him to develop such a dependant relationship with someone who had wielded such a ruthless power over his life.

Chakotay had been grooming him for this role, had trained him like a laboratory animal until he couldn’t help but respond sexually to the abuse he suffered.

Knowing this, he could control his feelings and use his body's reactions to his advantage.

"I do like them, Chakotay, you can tell I do," Tom lied quickly, pointing at his own engorged cock as evidence of his sincerity. "But we don’t have to play them 24/7. There's no reason for you to keep me locked up here all the time. You KNOW I want you as much as you want me, so there's no reason to keep me prisoner any more," he wheedled softly, stroking Chakotay's groin suggestively.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" Chakotay barked furiously.

Tom flinched in expectation of another beating. Chakotay had obviously seen through his attempt to escape, he thought, so the other man’s next words stunned him.

"I know what a tramp you are, Simon. If I let you out of here you’ll fuck the first guy who comes along and asks you. You’re like a cat on heat. You're just a Cardassian catamite. I can't trust you."

Tom gasped in amazement and had to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself laughing hysterically at the insane accusation. When he could trust himself to speak, Tom replied carefully:

"I know I USED to be like that, Chakotay, but I was a prisoner of the Cardassians. I didn't have any choice," Tom frantically ad-libbed "But now I'm yours. I love you and I swear I will never touch another man." Tom said. The last part was certainly true, he thought, once he escaped this madman, it would be a cold day in hell before he let anyone near his ass again.

"I’m tired of fighting you. I’m weary of you mind-fucking me, Simon. You are MINE and you will do as I say, and you will stay here as long as I want you to, so stop your whining about it," Chakotay growled fiercely, clenching his fists.

"Yes Sir, I’m sorry, Sir." Tom replied humbly.

He lowered his eyes in apparent defeat, but continued to stroke Chakotay to hardness. The older man watched his actions warily, but simply waited to find out what his intentions were.

He could do this, Tom told himself, as he lowered his mouth to Chakotay's weeping cock and swallowed. Fighting the instinctive urge to gag, he relaxed his throat and massaged the thick cock with his tongue. He could hear Chakotay's breathing shorten in surprise and then the Commander grabbed his hair with eye-watering tightness and began to thrust in and out of Tom's mouth.

Tom sucked and siphoned, listening carefully to Chakotay's answering grunts and employing all his hard-won talents until the other man roared and came.

Tom swallowed enthusiastically until Chakotay's cock softened and slipped out of his mouth and then he looked up at the Commander with a seductive smile and slowly licked his lips.

Chakotay's eyes met his in confusion. Tom merely continued to smile and then he reached up tentatively and kissed Chakotay on the lips. For a moment Chakotay stiffened, tasting his own cum in Tom's sweet mouth and then he roughly grabbed Tom in a huge bear hug and responded to Tom's kiss with a passion that made Tom smirk inside.

He COULD do this, he realized. He could pretend to be in love with the Commander and that he actually enjoyed the abuse. Eventually Chakotay would let down his guard and begin to trust him and then he would finally get a chance to escape. Until then, he would just bide his time and be the obedient slave Chakotay wanted.

At least he wouldn’t have to fake his orgasms; his body was fucked up enough to respond sexually to Chakotay’s treatment of him. He would just have to pretend that his mind had been equally won over..

It wouldn’t be too hard to pretend to love the man, he told himself. At least Chakotay was good-looking and understood personal hygiene, which was more than could be said for most of the inmates at Auckland. In fact, when he wasn't beating the shit out of him, Chakotay was reasonably pleasant to be around.

Perhaps if Chakotay had approached him in a normal fashion he might have even been genuinely tempted by the big man's smoldering passion.

Tom shook his head angrily at his own thoughts. It was a weakness to humanize Chakotay, to look for good points to weigh against the bad, and yet it wasn’t Chakotay’s fault that he was such a sadistic bastard, after all. He was ill. He was in love with a ghost for god's sake! He should no more hate Chakotay for being mentally ill than he if the Commander had contracted a terrible virus, he convinced himself.

Chakotay meanwhile was stunned by Tom’s sudden capitulation. The blond’s unmistakable passion, his declaration of love and his new attitude of willing subservience were what he had dreamed of for so many years, that he completely dismissed the suspicions that fleetingly occurred to him. With the arrogance of his insanity, his mind began to rewrite the past weeks, re-interpreting all of Tom’s resistance as being, in fact, just part of a game they had both willingly played.

Tom enjoyed being punished, so perhaps his behavior had just been an attempt to make Chakotay fulfill his designated role, he decided, and then he tested the theory.

"You should be punished, I think, for questioning me," Chakotay said thoughtfully. "Perhaps THAT is why you questioned me, because you WANTED to be punished. Am I right?"

"Yes Sir! I want you to punish me please," Tom lied, instinctively understanding that it was the right answer, even as his battered body began to shiver with terror.

He COULD do this, he reminded himself fiercely.

Chakotay misinterpreted his trembling as anticipation and smiled fondly at the younger man.

"You see. You really DO like this game. Go fetch the paddle," he conceded generously.

"Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir!" Tom whispered bravely and dragged himself painfully off the bed towards the drawer where the paddle was kept. His hand shook slightly as he picked it up but he forced himself to stay calm. He limped back to the Commander, handed it over and folded himself over the other man’s knees with a display of eagerness.

Chakotay, now finding himself oddly disturbed by the discolored skin, began to apply only light strokes to Tom’s bruised ass cheeks. Despite the relative gentleness of the blows, they were agonizing on top of the existing damage and Tom howled unashamedly and then arched into his usual involuntary orgasm.

Between sobs, Tom found enough breath to gasp, "Thank you, Sir," although the words nearly choked him.

Chakotay looked fondly at the bruised and bleeding body of his beloved, and simply said, "I’m very pleased with you, Simon. You may sleep in the bed tonight."

And, with a curiously mixed feeling of triumph and self-disgust, Tom obediently crept under the covers and crawled into Chakotay’s waiting arms.

~~~

Tom was woken by the sensation of being ripped apart from the inside. He was face down on the bed, his face pressed into the pillow by Chakotay's bulk and his legs spread at an unnatural angle to accommodate the huge cock that filled his ass. His abraded passage was burning with the friction of Chakotay's eager thrusts.

For a moment, he panicked and struggled helplessly against the assault, then his head cleared as memories of the night before returned and he realized that the price of his possible freedom was that he should suffer this agony without resistance.

Deciding that the fastest way to stop the agony was to bring the Commander to completion, he clutched at the sheet beneath him, his fingers clawing against the fabric for purchase, and then he pistoned his hips in invitation to the invader.

Chakotay groaned in ecstasy as his lover welcomed his advances and thrust back to absorb him deeper into his body. Tom's enthusiastic response was enough to take him over the edge and he shot his load deep into the younger man's hot depths with a cry of triumph.

Tom bit down on the pillow to prevent a scream of combined agony and relief, as Chakotay's cum filled his passage and he felt the Commander soften and withdraw, rolling his weight off and collapsing on the bed next to him in satisfaction. When he was sure he could control his nausea, Tom turned on his side, flinching at the renewed agony in his insides, and he turned his face towards Chakotay.

Chakotay's breathing steadied and he regarded the blond suspiciously. Tom's face was ravaged by fresh tears and his blue eyes were dull with pain.

"Why are you crying, Simon?" He demanded

"Because I'm happy, Chakotay," Tom lied.

The furrows on the Commander's forehead smoothed and a delighted smile lit his face, creasing his cheeks into dimples and displaying his even white teeth. Then doubt danced in the brown eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked solicitously.

Tom blinked uncertainly. He couldn't keep up with the Commander's mood swings. It was almost impossible to judge the correct response to maintain Chakotay's illusions. However, the burning fire in his ass was so agonizing, he doubted that he could even walk this morning. So he decided that a lie would be too easily found out.

"Yes, Chakotay," he mumbled quietly.

"Get on your hands and knees," Chakotay barked angrily and Tom complied with a shudder, dragging his body into the required position and trembling in terror.

Chakotay sat up and crawled to kneel behind him, then placed his large hands on Tom's bruised ass and roughly pulled his cheeks apart to reveal the raw, red skin between.

Tom clenched his teeth in anticipation of another assault, only to jerk in surprise as Chakotay leant forward and slowly rimmed his sore ass with a wet caressing tongue.

Chakotay then kissed the puckered opening, regarding the torn skin with dismay.

"You are SO stupid, Simon," he hissed angrily. "Why didn't you tell me that I had hurt you so badly?"

Tom nearly collapsed in shock at Chakotay's bitter complaint. What the hell had the mad fucker expected after his multiple rapes over the last few hours?

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," he whispered, unable to think of anything more sensible to say under the circumstances.

Chakotay hauled himself off the bed and stomped off into the bathroom where he rummaged in the cabinet until he located a dermal regenerator. Then he returned to his position behind Tom's buttocks and began to run the regenerator over the wounds he had inflicted.

"This is supposed to be a GAME, Simon," Chakotay snapped. "You are supposed to stop me if it actually hurts you this badly! How can we do this, if I can't trust you to tell me when I go too far?"

Tom shuddered with confusion. How the hell could he keep one step ahead of someone as obviously schizophrenic as Chakotay? After the gleeful way Chakotay had abused him, the Commander was now blaming HIM for what had happened. Yet the blissful relief from pain as the older man wielded the regenerator, was enough to still his automatic voice of protest. He would do or say anything to keep Chakotay in this new mood of reconciliation. He fell back on old faithful.

"I'm sorry," he said, understanding that it was the phrase that most pacified the Commander.

Chakotay only grunted in response, but he continued to wave his magic wand over Tom's ass, so the pilot breathed heavily in relief.

When the worst of the internal damage was repaired and the black bruises on Tom's ass cheeks had dulled to a pale yellowish-green, Chakotay rose, cheerfully slapped Tom's ass forcefully enough to make the pilot crash back into a prone position, and climbed off the bed.

Tom heard him moving about in the bathroom, actually humming to himself as he got ready for shift. Unsure of what else to do, he simply lay there and waited for Chakotay's next unpredictable action. But Chakotay completely ignored him as he got dressed and prepared to leave. It was not until the Commander was actually walking out of the door that he seemed to remember Tom's presence and turned to address him.

"Get some sleep," he barked. "Then clean yourself and this place up. I'll be back at 1800."

And without further comment he left.

Tom listened to the door whispering shut and simply lay there, half-expecting Chakotay to return. Previously he had always been locked in the living area, he had never before been left with access to the bedroom. The thought slowly occurred to him that if Chakotay had forgotten to shut him out of the bedroom, he might also have forgotten to lock down the quarters.

He leapt out of bed and ran to the terminal. It was dead. He approached the door furtively. It refused to open at his request.

Okay, he decided. Nothing had changed.

Except at the same time, everything had changed. The game had just become stacked a tiny fraction in his favor. It was a start. He could even face the knowledge that the abuse would continue for an indefinite period more, as long as Chakotay was now prepared to heal the damage he inflicted.

He had managed to put a tiny dent in Chakotay's armor and he could keep working on it, bit by bit, until freedom was finally in his grasp.

And in this newfound feeling of hope, he decided 'what the hell' and crawled back into the delicious softness of the bed, luxuriating in its comfort after his weeks of sleeping on the cold unforgiving floor.

By 1700 Tom had completely scrubbed Chakotay’s quarters from ceiling to floor, had retrieved clean sheets from the refresher to remake the bed with military precision and had retreated to the bathroom to prepare himself for Chakotay’s return.

He had become so accustomed to giving himself an enema that the only thing that he registered as he performed the necessary ablutions was that his ass was thankfully free of pain for the first time in weeks. He had no illusion that the situation would remain pain free for long. Quite apart from the necessity to insert the huge butt plug as part of his usual preparations, he had a feeling that now Chakotay had overcome his reluctance to penetrate him, he was going to spend a fair amount of his future nights face down on the bed with Chakotay grunting on top of him.

The thought was not as horrific as it ought to be, he realized and kicked himself mentally for his continuing ambivalence towards his insane captor.

He hadn’t even considered failing to prepare himself as usual for Chakotay’s return. When the Commander arrived home he would find Tom submissively in position as always. Quite apart from the fact that this would prevent a violent punishment from the older man, Tom had decided that his continued obedience despite Chakotay’s earlier ‘kindness’ would increase the illusion that he was voluntarily participating in Chakotay’s ‘game’.

When he had finally finished emptying his bowels and was sure of his inner cleanliness, Tom lifted one leg onto the toilet seat and taking a handful of lubricant he reached under his groin and began to loosen his sphincter. His muscles relaxed with the ease of practice and it only took a couple of minutes before he could begin easing the butt plug into himself.

He clenched his teeth against the pain as the thickest part of the plug stretched him to his limit and then slid home with a slurping sound.

He carefully moved into an upright position, his legs slightly spread to accommodate the thick invader, and began to bind his cock and balls with the leather straps that Chakotay had left him in place of a cock ring

Finally sure that he presented a pleasant vision, he moved slowly into the living room and took ‘position’ opposite the door

1800 came and went as he knelt patiently for his ‘master’s’ return.

By 2300 he was cramping and shuffling in place with increasing agitation. His earlier confidence was disappearing rapidly as he tried to understand the reason for Chakotay’s lateness.

Was this a punishment? Had Chakotay regretted his earlier acts of consideration and decided to punish him for them or was this a test to see whether he was truly obedient? On the other hand, what if something had happened to the Commander? How long would it be before someone remembered that he was still on board and came to rescue him?

His momentary hope splintered as he remembered that no one had bothered to rescue him before now. Maybe no one cared. Maybe everyone KNEW the Commander was holding him as a sexual slave but simply didn’t give a damn. None of the Maquis cared, that much he knew without doubt and he was still uncertain whether the Captain was aware or not.

It made no sense that she was unaware, given that she had left him in the madman’s clutches and yet he still clung on to the thin thread of hope that she was as fooled by Chakotay’s placid outward persona as he had previously been.

The opening of the door interrupted his reflections. He flinched against the sudden illumination as the lights came on full to reveal Chakotay and Ayala staggering in, arm in arm, obviously the worse for drink.

The pair made a cursory glance in his direction and then simply staggered to the overstuffed sofa and collapsed in grinning heaps as they continued their ribald discussion.

"So I told her that in my opinion she should keep on sleeping with Michael, whatever anyone said, if it made her happy." Chakotay smirked, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks "and the silly cow was so grateful for my ‘understanding’ that she practically creamed in her pants then and there."

"Well, I guess the advantage of a holographic lover is that you can just reprogram them to suit your requirements, whatever perversions they are." Ayala sniggered

"Oh, I don’t know, Greg" Chakotay grinned "You can do that with flesh and blood people too." And he cocked his head in Tom’s direction.

Tom’s cheeks flamed but he stayed in position, his eyes lowered bashfully to the floor.

"Ah, but you can’t ever be SURE, can you?" Ayala said slyly. He had seen Tom ‘in position’ many times but had always seen the rigidness of the Pilot’s shoulders and sensed the indefatigable resentment that poured off the blonde. Admittedly tonight Tom seemed different, his posture was more relaxed and his eyes were no longer flashing that odd mix of fear and scorn, but Ayala had no doubt that the young man’s spirit was only bowed, not broken.

Chakotay frowned in irritation at Ayala’s words. He gazed at Tom thoughtfully for a few moments and then snapped his fingers in decision.

"Simon, we have a guest, where the fuck are your manners?" He snarled.

Ayala glanced worriedly at his friend as Chakotay called Tom the name of his dead lover. Ayala worried for a moment that Chakotay had completely gone over the edge. But, then again, Chakotay could call Tom anything he liked, as long as he didn’t actually believe it. He wondered how the pilot felt to be called Simon.

To his surprise Tom responded to the name and rose gracefully, padding submissively over to the couch and stopping in front of them.

"How may I serve you, Sir?" Tom asked humbly, his naked body quivering but his face serene.

"Get us some more beer, oh and some sandwiches." Chakotay purred with a satisfied smirk at Tom's obedience.

"Yes, Sir." Tom replied softly and hurried to comply. Ayala watched the end of the butt plug bobbing in the blond’s ass as he scurried to the replicator.

"I see the bruises have gone," he muttered thoughtfully, "So I guess he is being more co-operative in ALL ways."

Chakotay grinned happily.

"We have reached an understanding, I think." He confided to Ayala, with a touch of pride.

"It’s a nice ass when it isn’t black and blue." Ayala mentioned casually. Chakotay wasn’t fooled.

"It’s MY nice ass, Greg." he warned.

"We’re friends, friends share." Ayala smirked unrepentantly.

Chakotay’s eyes clouded with barely concealed fury. "Simon is MINE." He shouted loud enough to make Tom flinch at the replicator.

Ayala blinked in astonishment.

"He’s Tom Paris," he reminded Chakotay worriedly.

Chakotay looked at him for a long time and then smirked.

"I know who he is." He whispered quietly "But I’m enjoying this game. He thinks I am completely mad. It’s fascinating watching him try to manipulate my supposed ‘insanity’."

"That’s why you wanted Geron to talk to Tom." Ayala breathed in horrified admiration "You guessed he would tell the story of Simon to Tom."

"Exactly. Now Tom thinks I am completely mad and all he has to do is BE Simon and I will let down my guard."

"So why are you letting him do it?" Ayala whispered back

"Because I am benefiting from his spirit of co-operation. By the time he realizes it is all a deception he will be far too enmeshed in the lifestyle to WANT to escape. He loves it, loves it all. He just is too damned stubborn to admit it. Shush, he’s coming back." Chakotay warned

"So if you won’t share his ass, won’t you share his mouth?" Ayala said loudly to change the subject.

To his surprise Chakotay just laughed. "It’s a very talented mouth, isn’t it, Simon?"

Hovering with his tray, Tom looked helplessly at Chakotay, biting his lips as he struggled to think of an appropriate reply.

"Yes Sir, if you say so, Sir." He finally muttered.

"Show him." Chakotay ordered with a cruel leer..

For a second Tom swayed with misery and then he carefully put the tray of drinks and snacks down and sank gracefully between Ayala’s legs and fumbled to release his cock from the restraining fabric of his pants.

For a second he traced nervous fingers over Ayala’s swollen member, his eyes meeting Chakotay’s in misery, and then he opened his mouth and let Ayala’s cock slide smoothly into his throat.

Ayala leant back in his chair with a grunt of satisfaction as Tom’s talented mouth bobbed up and down his cock, working magic with teeth and tongue.

Chakotay took a beer and chugged a mouthful thoughtfully as he watched Simon pleasuring his friend.

He didn’t blame Ayala for doubting. Of course he thought that Simon was really the Tom Paris that he pretended to be. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that anyone else would understand the special bond between him and Simon, the bond that had enabled his beloved to come back from the dead for him.

He even understood exactly HOW Simon had done it. He had checked the dates methodically. Simon had died on the very day that Tom Paris had crashed on Caldik Prime. Only he, Chakotay, understood that Tom hadn’t survived the crash, that Simon’s spirit had taken refuge in the body of Tom Paris and had therefore had been able to come back to him.

As for Simon’s failure to recognize him when they met again, well, perhaps the experience of transferring bodies had affected his memory somehow, or perhaps it had all been an elaborate ruse to punish him. His favorite personal explanation was that Tom Paris’s soul had refused to leave his body. That Simon had been trapped behind the pilot’s cocky persona and it was only the years of abuse that had convinced Tom to leave and allowed Simon to remain.

Of course, he knew that would sound mad to anyone without his own spiritual beliefs, so he would continue to deny Simon’s existence publicly. It was enough that he and his beloved were together again. Ayala and the rest could believe what they liked.

With a muffled scream, Ayala shot his load into Tom’s mouth and collapsed back on the sofa, his chest heaving with the exertion of his orgasm.

"Shit! Chakotay, that was great! Thanks, buddy!" He gasped, totally ignoring Tom.

Tom’s cheeks flared with renewed humiliation as he recognized that in Ayala’s eyes he was just a possession of Chakotay’s and that his actions were merely taken as an extension of Chakotay’s hospitality.

Understanding that, Tom simply handed Ayala a beer and then crawled back into position in front of Chakotay. To his relief, his ‘master’ seemed uninterested in having the same service, so he relaxed back on his haunches and dozed quietly as the two men ate, drank and laughed for several more hours.

Eventually Ayala rose to leave and staggered drunkenly out of Chakotay’s quarters. As he passed Tom he absently rubbed the blond’s hair as though petting a good dog.

Tom had to resist the insane urge to bite his ankles as he passed.

Chakotay’s drunken brown eyes met his and a smile ghosted across the bronze face.

"Let’s go to bed, Simon." He slurred happily.

Tom rose to his feet, shook his legs to relieve his pins and needles and then helped Chakotay to his feet. Chakotay slung an unsteady arm around his shoulders and they staggered to the bedroom. Almost crushed by Chakotay’s dead weight, Tom helped the older man into bed and then hovered uncertainly, unsure whether he was to sleep in the bed or on the floor.

"Come here!" Chakotay mumbled, reaching an arm out commandingly and Tom slipped into bed next to the drunken commander.

Chakotay spooned up behind him, wrapped a heavy arm around his waist and immediately began to snore into his neck.

Tom’s own exhaustion finally overcame the discomfort of the butt plug, which was being pressed deeper inside him by the pressure of Chakotay’s hip against his ass, and he slept in Chakotay’s arms.

His last thought as he drifted off was that he hoped the bastard remembered to remove the bloody thing before fucking him in the morning.

~~~

"Hiya Starfleet," B'Elanna murmured, as she slid into the seat opposite and dropped her tray on the table with a grimace of disgust at its contents. "So much for an anniversary dinner, huh? The fucking replicators are *still* refusing to come back on-line."

Harry gave a tired grin of appreciation for her bravery in facing Neelix's cuisine.

"Thanks for meeting me, honey. I know the problems you've got in Engineering today," he said sympathetically. "It must have been difficult to get away."

"It was," B'Elanna admitted, with a weary sigh. "Shit, I can't believe the way I used to complain about Tom's flying. At least *he* never decided to take a short cut through a black hole. The gravimetric stress on the warp engines has shorted out most of the ship's systems. We're going to be limping at half-warp for the next ten days, the Doc's program is floating somewhere in the ether, and half the ship have gone down with food-poisoning because they are having to eat *this* crap."

"Well, Hamilton didn't *mean* to do it. He just made a mistake," Harry replied placatingly.

"A mistake? An, 'Oops, I forgot for a moment that black holes crush starships like paper cups,' kind of mistake?" B'Elanna hissed. "He's an idiot, Harry. An irresponsible, dangerous idiot."

"Yeah, well, he's not Tom, for sure," Harry replied carefully.

The angry expression on B'Elanna's face faded to uncertainty.

"I've been thinking," she said slowly. "About what you said this morning, about it being our anniversary."

"Three months today," Harry confirmed.

"Well, I don't know how to say this, without it coming out wrong, but I've been thinking about that, all day. The three months, I mean, and I, well I, that is -" B'Elanna's words trailed off into a very un-Klingon silence.

Harry reached forward and clasped her hands gently.

"I know," he said. "Me too."

"You have?" B'Elanna gasped in astonishment.

Harry shrugged, his mouth twisting into a wry grimace.

"He was my best friend, B'Elanna. Even if it didn't mean anything to him, it *did* mean something to me. I can't just pretend those years never happened. Besides, since he only said those things to me just before his breakdown, maybe he never meant them at all," Harry muttered.

"I wish I could feel the same way," B'Elanna confessed. "But Dalby was pretty clear about the fact that he'd been fucking Tom all along."

"Yeah, but since when has Dalby ever told the truth, B'El? You told me last week that he was the biggest liar on the "Crazy Horse," always boasting about battles that he'd never even been to, let alone been a hero of," Harry reminded her.

"You know the thing that hurts the most? I didn't love him, Harry," B'Elanna whispered suddenly.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"No, really. I've been thinking about it. I thought I did at the time, but the longer you and I are together, the more I realize that what was between Tom and I wasn't love. I don't know *what* it was, to be honest. But it wasn't love. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I realize it would never have worked out between us, and if Tom hadn't done what he did, then I never would have found you. So it seems pointless to hold a grudge, doesn't it?"

"Then you wouldn't be angry with me?" Harry asked. "If I tried to make up with him?"

"Of course not, Harry. I'm not sure if I can go that far myself, but I certainly wouldn't stand in your way. I know you miss him."

"I do," Harry agreed.

"I don't think you have a chance in hell of doing it, though," B'Elanna warned. "No-one has seen him for weeks. Chakotay says he's completely lost touch with reality. Kahless only knows where Chakotay is getting the patience from. Actually, I spoke to Greg about Tom today, and he says that if we were home, Tom would have been institutionalized. He 's drugged up to the eyeballs and still can't cope with anyone going near him."

"Well, no one else was his friend, B'El. I mean I can understand him trusting Chakotay, we all do, but he never *liked* Chakotay. Surely he'd respond to me? I can't see how it could possibly upset him if *I* visited him. Hell, maybe it's what he needs," Harry argued.

"I think you'd best ask Chakotay's opinion, Harry. He'll be able to judge whether it is wise," B'Elanna advised.

"Do you think he'll be mad at me for asking?"

B'Elanna arched her brows in surprise.

"Of course not, Harry. He would hardly have been looking after Tom if he didn't care about him. I expect he'll be pleasantly surprised that you have decided to try and help. It must be wearing him out, looking after Tom by himself and doing his job too. I'll bet he'll jump at the chance of some support."

Harry gave a relieved grin.

"Thanks B'El."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"About us."

"He already knows."

"Not *Chakotay.* I'm talking about Tom. Are you going to tell him?"

Harry bit his lower lip.

"Maybe it would be best not to mention it, at first," Harry replied.

B'Elanna gave a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I mean it's not like it's any of his business, but still. Probably best you don't tell him yet."

~~~

"No," Chakotay said emphatically.

"No? But I don't understand, Sir. He's my best friend, at least he *was*, I don't see how it could hurt," Harry argued.

"Tom is not well, Lieutenant. He's not able to deal with stress at the moment. Especially the stress of seeing you."

"Me?"

"Well you *are* sleeping with his girlfriend, aren't you?" Chakotay snapped.

Harry blushed and ducked his eyes from Chakotay's accusatory glare.

"B'Elanna *isn't* his girlfriend any more, and I *am* his friend. We both might have forgotten that for a time, but the fact remains that Tom and I went through a lot together. It means something to me, and I'm sure it still means something to him. I don't see that it can do any harm for me to at least try," Harry argued.

"I will not have you interfering with Tom's recovery just because you have found a belated sense of guilt, Lieutenant. I said 'no' and that's final," Chakotay replied.

"What recovery? You said yourself that Tom is only getting worse. It's been three months and he still isn't any better. Maybe what he needs is to see someone other than you, Sir. I mean, you don't seem to be succeeding very well by yourself, do you?" Harry challenged angrily.

Chakotay's eyes sparked black fire.

"You are *this* far," and he gestured a tiny space with his thumb and forefinger, "from a charge of insubordination, Mr. Kim. Perhaps you should recall that the only reason you are a Lieutenant on this ship is the fact that Tom vacated the position. I'm surprised you are so keen to be demoted again."

~~~

"He said *what*?" B'Elanna demanded, her face flooded with disbelief.

"Honestly, B'El. He *did* say it. He as much as said that I should let Tom stay ill, just to keep my Lieutenant's position," Harry told her.

"You must have misunderstood him, Harry. He was probably just referring to the fact that your insubordination could lose you the rank."

"Since when is it insubordination to care for another crew member, B'Elanna?" Harry griped.

"Well, you don't have any medical training, do you? How do you know that Chakotay's wrong?" B'Elanna asked.

"I've got as much medical training as *he* has, B'El. Which is to say that he hasn't got any either. No wonder Tom isn't getting better."

"Both the Captain and the Doctor seem content with the situation, Harry."

"The Doctor is a holoprogram, B'El, and as for the Captain - I'm going to go see her myself. Chakotay doesn't have the right to make these decisions."

~~~

"Are you sure I can't get you a drink, Harry?" Kathryn asked, as she dialed her coffee request into the replicator of her ready room.

Harry shuffled nervously on his seat.

"No, thank you, Captain," he replied.

"You've come to see me about Tom, haven't you?" she asked with a soft smile, as she seated herself opposite him.

She chuckled at Harry's look of shock.

"Chakotay said you would probably come to see me," she explained.

Harry flushed with embarrassment.

"Did he, did he complain about me?" he asked in a small voice.

Kathryn looked at him in shock.

"Of course not, Harry. He said it was to your credit that you wanted to mend fences with Tom. He only mentioned your conversation to me because he was concerned you didn't understand *exactly* how ill Tom really is.

"I've seen him myself, Harry, and believe me, I wish I hadn't gone. I want you to remember him the way he used to be. Tom deserves that much," she said sadly. "All any of us can do for him now is to at least leave him his dignity."

"You say that like there's no hope, Captain," Harry challenged.

"The Doctor has been attending him regularly, Harry. He says that there is little likelihood that Tom will ever recover. It's a blessing that Chakotay has agreed to take care of him. I can't imagine anyone else doing it."

"If he's ill, he should be in Sickbay," Harry argued.

"Ordinarily I would agree with you, but our current crisis proves that that would be an impossibility. The Doctor's program went off line with the Warp malfunction. It's not the first time that his program has been affected by ship-wide damage."

"B'Elanna says he'll be on-line again tomorrow," Harry reminded her.

"I know, Harry. But for the last three days, who would have taken care of Tom?" she asked patiently.

Harry sighed as her words sank in. Maybe it was better for Tom to be in flesh and blood hands, after all.

"I'm sorry for having bothered you, Captain. I should apologize to the Commander too, I guess."

Kathryn smiled gently.

"It's alright Harry. Both Chakotay and I know that you only had the best intentions. It might be better though, if in future you make sure of your facts before charging into a situation guns blazing."

"Yes, Captain. I'm sorry," Harry repeated, rising to his feet. "I'm sure you'll let me know if the situation changes."

~~~

"I thought you said the Doctor would be on-line by yesterday," Samantha complained. "Naomi *needs* a doctor."

B'Elanna choked back her automatic, bitter response. She knew it was only natural that Sam was upset. Naomi had broken her arm during the ship's desperate escape from the gravimetric pull of the black hole. Although her injury, and those of other crew, had been treated with regenerators, it was hardly surprising that Sam wasn't going to be satisfied until a *real* doctor had proclaimed her daughter cured.

"He *should* have been," B'Elanna explained shortly. "There's a problem with his matrix but I'm restoring it as quickly as I can."

She was too tired and angry to say any more on the subject.

And too scared.

~~~

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his expression completely bewildered.

"What I SAID, Harry. The Doctor's program has been tampered with," B'Elanna spat.

Although they were in the privacy of his own quarters, Harry looked around nervously before replying.

"How do you know? I mean, maybe the glitches in the matrix happened when the system went off line," he offered.

"That could explain the missing data, Harry. It doesn't explain the fact that there are dozens of new sub-routines over-writing his files. Someone has been re-programming him, Harry, on an almost daily basis, for a number of months. It's as though his whole matrix has been infected by a virus."

"Maybe it *is* a virus," Harry replied quietly, only to flinch at her outraged reaction.

"If so, it's a very fucking selective one, Harry. It is only *certain* files that are being constantly erased and replaced. It has been done so brilliantly that it is barely noticeable, but it's there. When the Doctor's program failed to re-initialize, I assumed there were missing pockets of data, so I overlaid an old default over his matrix to highlight the missing files. The differences were so minute that I ran a diagnostic over the whole matrix. It took me four days. But I found it. He's been deliberately tampered with."

"Who by?" Harry asked nervously.

"There's no physical evidence, he was too clever for that, but like I said, only *certain* files have been tampered with, so there's only one logical culprit."

"You sound like Tuvok," Harry laughed. "I don't understand. Why would anyone tamper with the Doctor?"

B'Elanna looked at him in despair, wondering whether he would ever laugh again.

"Who *would* have had a reason to tamper with the Doctor for the last three months, Harry?" she asked.

She watched the realization dawn on Harry's face.

"Fuck. Tell me you're not thinking what I'm thinking," he demanded.

But the despairing look in her eyes only confirmed his horrible suspicion.

"FUCK," he hissed.

"What do we do, Harry?"

"We could go to the Captain," Harry replied. "Or Tuvok, maybe."

"There's no proof, Harry. It's all circumstantial. He'll find a way to squirm out of it. No one will want to believe me. *I* don't want to believe me."

"And if we file a formal complaint, he'll know we're on to him."

"So maybe he'll decide to get rid of the evidence."

"He'd kill Tom," Harry concluded bitterly.

"Maybe. I mean, I heard rumors about Chakotay when I was on the Crazy Horse, only I completely ignored them as spite. What people said just didn't make sense. There was no way I could picture the gentle man that he was, doing the terrible things that they said he had done. I thought they only told the tales to make themselves look more important, like a ruthless Captain was something they were proud of."

"If we're right, then Ayala and Dalby are in it with him," Harry said. "There's no other explanation."

"And maybe more of the Maquis. Ever since I took the position of Chief Engineer, the Maquis have pretty much cut me out of the loop. Shit. Maybe that's *why* he got me the position. He wasn't sure of my loyalty so he made sure I was kept separate from the other Maquis," B'Elanna spat, her expression of outrage, suddenly shadowed by her own personal pain at Chakotay's betrayal.

"I'm sure you're wrong. That would only make sense if he had planned this years ago, B'Elanna," Harry said quickly.

"I know. But I remembered that Tom had had a hard time at first. The Maquis all had it in for him. So I went back into the files, right back to the time when the crews merged. And guess what?"

"What?"

"The Doctor was tampered with then, too. I *know* Tom had a number of fights back then. Not only did he admit to me that he had been injured on occasion, but I remember people bragging about having 'taught him a lesson' at the time. It was back when I thought he *was* a pig, so I didn't pay it much attention. But I do know it happened. Only there aren't ANY records that Tom ever received treatment for his injuries. The files haven't just been altered. They've been erased."

"What are we going to do, B'El?" Harry asked despairingly.

"We're going to deal with it ourselves, Harry."

"Confront him directly?" Harry squeaked.

"Not directly, it would warn him, and besides, he wouldn't just calmly wait for us to make a move. We'd probably have an unfortunate accident on our way home."

"You think he'd kill us?" Harry whimpered.

B'Elanna looked at Harry's terrified white face and sighed. She *did* love him, but she suddenly wished he was a bit more of a *man*. She usually found Harry's lack of confidence endearing. In a crisis like this, however, he was as much a liability as a help.

Nevertheless, you worked with the tools you had and made the best of it, she decided.

"I think that he's capable of anything, Harry. We need to get to Tom ourselves. Get him out of Chakotay's quarters and pray that there is enough left of his mind for him to tell the Captain what's really been going on," she said firmly.

Harry gulped. The idea of breaking into Chakotay's quarters terrified him. Yet he nodded his reluctant agreement. Tom *was* his friend. He remembered that now. Suddenly he remembered a lot of things, like the fact that it had been Chakotay who had whispered the doubts in his head. It had been Chakotay who had left him in no doubt that his chances of promotion depended on him making a *better* choice of friends.

He owed Tom, he decided. An apology, at least, and maybe a hell of a lot more.

Though he couldn't stop himself from asking,

"What if he really *IS* mad?"

"Then we'd better start praying, because if he is then we are probably kissing our jobs AND our lives goodbye."

~~~

The door whispered shut behind Chakotay's back and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had barely kept it together all morning. He thought he had dealt with that annoying little shit Harry Kim. The Captain had assured him that Kim would back off. Yet all morning he had felt the little creep's eyes on him on the bridge, full of speculative hate.

Not that he had said anything. Shit, the wimp had ducked his eyes and pretended to be busy every time that Chakotay had glanced over. Nevertheless, he had seen Kim's expression from the corner of his eyes, had watched the way Kim jumped every time he turned towards him, had felt the eyes sliding away faster than he could turn.

Something was up.

He had kept his usual neutral expression of calm on his own features, had bound his own fear and aggression behind a tight mask of placidity. Yet he burned inside with a rage that boiled so hot that it threatened to erupt and burn the whole bridge crew with its violence.

Simon was in danger.

He had cast his thoughts carefully over the recent weeks, trying to imagine anything that could have given him away. There was nothing. He was sure of that. There was no way any of the stupid Starfleeters could possibly have realized the truth.

Yet still, that volcanic broil of fear continued.

Of all the people on board, Harry Kim was the one person who could betray Simon. He was the only person who had known Tom Paris long enough to realize what Simon had done.

That was why he wouldn't let Simon leave their quarters.

He felt guilty that he had accused Simon of being a whore. He had known he was hitting below the belt with the comment. It hadn't been Simon's fault that he had been so badly used by the Cardassians and it had been unfair to use Simon's own sense of shame over the abuse to control him.

Yet, drawing on Simon's insecurities in such a brutal way had achieved his desired effect. Simon was no longer asking to leave their quarters, and so he was safe.

Over the last ten days, since Simon's return, Chakotay had realized that Simon seemed to have no idea that he had stolen Paris's body. He was just as sweet and compliant and dumb as he had been before he died. The night before, Chakotay had called out "Tom", just to be sure, and Simon hadn't even blinked. So it seemed that Simon didn't even have any of Tom's memories anymore.

Thomas Eugene Paris had finally been banished to whatever hell he belonged in and Simon was back.

And because Simon was so naturally quiet and submissive, always shrinking from strangers with a fear born of a lifetime of abuse, Chakotay might have risked letting the rest of the crew see him now. They would assume his reticence was a symptom of "Tom's" illness.

His child-like obedience and obvious adoration of Chakotay could be put down to gratitude for Chakotay's care.

Yet the fact remained, that no matter how hard Chakotay tried to coach Simon to understand the role he would have to play in front of the other crew, Harry Kim would undoubtedly see through it. Somehow he would *know* that Simon wasn't Tom.

And possibly, Kathryn would too.

Chakotay was pretty sure that no-one else would see the difference. It wasn't as though "Tom" would ever be able to work again. Hell, Simon couldn't pilot a bath toy, let alone a starship. But Chakotay wanted to at least be able to parade him on his arm in Sandrine's, maybe even let him kneel at his feet on the bridge during the long shifts.

So, he had a choice of living in perpetual fear that Harry Fucking Kim would expose Simon as an impostor, or do what he should have done right at the beginning, take the ship himself.

Other than Janeway, Kim & Tuvok he didn't think there would be any need for fatalities. The rest of the Starfleet crew would probably welcome the Maquis takeover. Hell, who *wouldn't* prefer to live their lives under Maquis rules?

It wasn't the first time he had contemplated the idea of mutiny. He was sure of the loyalty of *his* people. With the possible exception of B'Elanna, but he was sure that she would come around once the silly cow had gotten Kim out of her system. Best to transport her to the brig for the actual mutiny, though, just in case. It would be a shame to lose a damn good Engineer, but no-one was irreplaceable.

Except Simon.

Chakotay wasn't certain but he was pretty damned sure, that the Spirits wouldn't give Simon a *second* chance to come back from the dead.

No, the Spirits had given him a gift, a second chance, and he wasn't going to throw it away. Simon's safety was his responsibility and he wasn't going to fail in his duty this time.

If the price of Simon's safety was the death of a few Starfleeters, then so be it.

Having made his decision, Chakotay had surreptitiously commed Ayala and moments later, Ayala had made a public request for counseling. Chakotay had apologetically vacated the bridge to his own office. After they had discussed the swift enactment of his plans, he had left his comm. badge with Ayala and had slipped out, undetected.

It would be at least two hours before anyone questioned why he was still locked in his office with Ayala, and if anyone *did* comm. him, Ayala would patch the call through. As far as the security records went, he was with Ayala.

There was no real reason for this particular subterfuge, since no one would question him saying that Tom needed him. Yet, it was a good way to test that the security systems hadn't been amended to detect life-signs rather than comm. badges. He wouldn't put it past Tuvok to have made some *amendments* to his monitoring program.

This way he could test the theory without incriminating himself. If Tuvok noticed he had left his office, he could simply say that he had *forgotten* his badge in his hurry to attend Tom. If he *didn't* notice, then the planned gathering in the hydroponics bay that night with his Maquis colleagues would presumably be undetectable.

Yet, even with all his excuses prepared, he had still felt like a thief sneaking through the corridors of Voyager and had nearly collapsed with relief on entering his quarters undetected. His own hammering heart only increased his determination to take over the ship. He would be damned if he'd still be creeping around like a criminal by this time tomorrow.

He walked to the bedroom door, and a smile crept over his face. Simon was still in bed, curled up around a pillow as though clutching a teddy bear, his face relaxed into the innocence of sleep.

He frowned a little at the dark bruises on Simon's hips and ass. The blackened marks marred the perfection of the pale skin. He really needed to try and control himself more. It wasn't Simon's fault that he was such a little pain slut, but Chakotay was angry at himself for having given in again. The truth was that he didn't really want to play Simon's game anymore.

It had been different when it had been Tom Paris, of course. Shit the little bastard had deserved everything that had happened to him. Hell, if he hadn't always been aware that Paris's body would eventually become Simon's then he would have ensured that Tom gave up the ghost earlier. During the Cardassian war, Chakotay had learnt ways to torture that made people beg to die. He could have made Tom Paris vacate his body within days.

Yet all the time, he had known that Simon was in there too. Besides, he hadn't wanted Simon to inherit a *scarred* body. So although eight years had been a long time, it had been worth the wait.

Only now that it *was* Simon, he found himself as unwilling to hurt him as he had been before he died. As much as Ayala assured him that both Simon and Geron had been conditioned by the Cardassians to find sexual release only through a certain level of pain, Chakotay hated the visible marks that their coupling produced.

It seemed sinful to mark such perfection with his own clumsy hands.

Full of sorrow, he leant down and kissed Simon gently on the forehead. Simon stirred and opened sleepy eyes to meet him. For a moment, the blue eyes blazed with fear, and then recognition dawned and they relaxed to limpid softness. A shy smile crept over Simon's face and he whispered, "Hi, Chakotay."

Chakotay seated himself on the bed and ran a tender hand through Simon's hair.

"Sorry I woke you," he whispered. "I just missed you, wanted to be sure you were okay."

Simon stretched like a cat, unfurling himself from the pillow and arching his head into Chakotay's fingers.

"I missed you too," Tom lied.

After Chakotay had left that morning, Tom had struggled to the bathroom, had repaired the usual rips in his rectum, and had cleaned himself up but had felt too tired to run the regenerator over the worst of his bruises before creeping back to bed. He hadn't expected Chakotay back before 1800 at least.

He cursed his earlier laziness when Chakotay started to caress his blackened hips with worried, guilty fingers.

"I hurt you again, Simon. I'm sorry, so sorry," Chakotay whispered, his voice choked with tears.

Tom took a deep breath, then plastered a huge smile on his face.

"I loved it, babe. I love you, Chakotay," he purred. He saw Chakotay's brown eyes darken at his words, saw the pulse beginning to throb in Chakotay's neck and the unmistakable tenting of his uniform pants. The fingers paused their caressing and tightened painfully, digging into his narrow hip bones like vices.

"I want you, Simon," Chakotay growled.

Without hesitation, Tom scrambled up onto his hands and knees, spread his legs invitingly and thrust his ass into Chakotay's face.

"Spirits, you are *such* a slut, Simon," Chakotay laughed, as he quickly stripped his uniform off. "I don't have time for games, I have to get back to work," he warned.

Tom nearly collapsed in relief. He could cope with a quick fuck. He had expected a thorough paddling first and had been inwardly cringing. He heard Chakotay fumbling in the bedside cabinet and breathed another sigh of relief. The previous evening Chakotay hadn't bothered with lube. Although his ass was so used to Chakotay's cock that his sphincter had given up even trying to resist its entrance, he still tore a little from the violence of Chakotay's habit of always entering him in one merciless thrust.

Tom had become almost immune to that first momentary agony. The fiery blaze of pain was so swiftly followed by the sensation of Chakotay sliding over his prostate that he had lost the ability to tell where the pain ended and the intense pleasure began.

Last night's dry fuck had been a completely different matter. He knew Chakotay hadn't *meant* to hurt him. Chakotay had already fucked him a new asshole before supper, then they had spent the evening watching a vid, Chakotay relaxed in his chair, Tom kneeling at his feet feeling the blood, lube and semen dribbling down his inner thighs. When Chakotay had finally dragged him to bed, he must have assumed that the sticky mess would be sufficient lubrication.

It had felt like he was been torn in half from the inside out. He agony had been so intense that he had panicked and struggled to escape the weapon that was ripping him apart. Chakotay had obviously interpreted his resistance as a *game* and had beaten the shit out of his ass with a leather paddle.

Since Tom had orgasmed so violently that he had passed out, there had been little point trying to explain the nature of Chakotay's misunderstanding. He had simply curled into Chakotay's arms and let the warmth of his now loving embrace chase away the misery in his soul.

Now, as he felt the slimly touch of Chakotay's well-lubed glans at his pucker, he couldn't prevent a low moan of fear as his body spasmed in memory of the last brutal invasion. Fortunately, Chakotay interpreted his moan as desire.

"Don't be greedy, Simon. I don't want to hurt you," Chakotay chided.

Tom choked back a bitter laugh and braced himself for Chakotay's thrust. Instead, with infinite slowness, Chakotay pushed forwards, a mere centimeter at a time, stopping constantly to allow him to adjust to the invasion.

Tom whimpered as Chakotay's velvet-sheathed cock slid slowly home.

*Oh shit,* he thought. *Not like this, please. Don't be kind. I can't bear it when you are kind.*

He tried to thrust his hips back to force the pace, desperate for his own agony to break the spell of Chakotay's flesh. As long as it hurt, as long as it was brutal, as long as Chakotay treated him like a whore or a slave, he could bear it. But when, like now, Chakotay cherished him, when there was nothing but the pleasure, Tom felt his mind would crack apart. If it felt this good, how could it be wrong?

"Please," he begged, squirming desperately. "Hurt me. Please hurt me!"

But Chakotay just chuckled and held his hips firmly to control the slow, languorous strokes of his cock. He crept a well-lubed hand around to lightly grasp Tom's own erection and teased it with the gentle sliding of his fingers.

"Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Tom howled as Chakotay drove him to the brink of madness.

*He's not fucking me. He's making love to me,* Tom realized with despair, and then without breaking his slow rhythm, Chakotay leant down over his quivering back and ran a tongue from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back.

"SHIT!" Tom screamed, and came, his ass frantically clenching at Chakotay's cock, squeezing and milking it until he felt his bowels filled with Chakotay's hot cum.

Tom collapsed to the bed as his knees gave way, and he felt himself drawn into Chakotay's arms. He buried his face in Chakotay's neck, his whole body heaving with bitter sobs.

*I hate you,* he screamed silently, as his tears mingled with Chakotay's sweat-drenched skin, even as his mouth suckled hungrily on the skin of Chakotay's neck. He burrowed into the comfort of Chakotay's body, it's solidity the only sure reality in this fever-dream of his existence.

*You've made me love you, you mad bastard, and I hate you for it,* he whimpered silently and wept, hot, helpless tears of self-disgust.

When Chakotay stiffened, Tom panicked, sure that he had said the words out loud. In sudden terror, he began to garble wildly.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay. I'm sorry. Don't be mad. Don't hurt me. I'm sorry."

Yet the truth was that he didn't give a damn whether Chakotay knocked the shit out of him or not. All he suddenly was horribly aware of was the fact that Chakotay would realize that he *wasn't* Simon after all. As much as it had both angered and terrified him at first that Chakotay was too delusional to even know who he was, and despite the fact that he knew that Chakotay's attempts at kindness weren't even directed at him, but instead were for a ghost, still the thought that Chakotay would never again look at him in that confused state of love and lust, cut him like a vicious knife.

He was too busy drowning in his own panicked confusion to realize that Chakotay's reaction had nothing to do with him at all.

It was only when Chakotay's arms clenched his body with such angry protectiveness that his ribs screamed in protest, that Tom dared to open his eyes, and found himself looking straight into the appalled faces of B'Elanna and Harry.

~~~

As soon as Chakotay had left the bridge, Harry had commed B'Elanna. They had waited until 1300, and realizing that Chakotay was obviously planning to stay in his office for the next hour or so, had taken the opportunity of Harry's lunch break to pay their *visit* to Tom.

For an engineer of B'Elanna's caliber, the bypassing of Chakotay's personal door-lock had been a piece of piss. Her main problem had been in convincing the white-faced Harry that they were doing the right thing.

"What if he goes crazy, B'El, like Chakotay said he would? Maybe he *is* mad. God only knows what Chakotay has been doing to him these last three months."

B'Elanna's face had screwed up in an expression of scorn at his words.

"Kahless, Harry. What the fuck do you *think* he's been doing to him? He's hardly been holding his hand and reading him bedtime stories."

Harry's over-pale features turned a distinct shade of green.

"You mean he's been, he's been, oh fuck!"

"Exactly," B'Elanna had hissed.

Harry's ass muscles had tightened in empathetic horror. He had shared a communal shower room with Chakotay after enough gym sessions to know that the Commander was hung like the proverbial horse. As much as Chakotay's size had impressed the hell out of him, he remembered concluding that it was also the reason the Commander was celibate. He couldn't imagine *anyone*, male or female, voluntarily allowing that weapon anywhere near them.

Of course, Chakotay seemed to have solved the *voluntary* issue, if B'Elanna was right.

"Let's do it, " he had suddenly barked, unable to bear another moment of not knowing what awaited them on the other side of the door.

So B'Elanna had overridden the lock, the door had whispered open, and they had stepped inside to a nightmare.

~~~

"Don't move," B'Elanna hissed, her phaser locked on Chakotay's chest. "Tom, move away from him, Harry comm. Security."

Chakotay gave a feral growl, pushed Simon behind him, out of the range of the phaser and began to advance down the bed on all fours, snarling like a Targ.

"I said DON'T FUCKING MOVE!" B'Elanna roared, her fingers trembling on the trigger as Chakotay moved with the dangerous grace of a panther.

Chakotay's dark eyes flashed, but he froze in place, careful to ensure that his body was blocking Simon from harm. In an unbelievably calm voice, he began to speak.

"You have broken into my quarters and drawn a weapon on a superior officer, Lieutenant Torres. Do you *really* want to compound your crimes by shooting me?"

He gave a chilling laugh and relaxed back on his haunches, revealing his naked groin. Even in the limp aftermath of his orgasm, his cock still jutted proudly from his groin with a malevolent promise. As he expected, B'Elanna was momentarily fixated by the sheer size of his cock. He saw her eyes flare as she obviously wondered how much *larger* it grew. He had seen the reaction enough times to depend on it as sufficient distraction.

Chakotay leapt off the bed, his movement so fast that B'Elanna barely registered his action before he grasped her wrist and wrestled for the phaser. She immediately responded like a hell-cat, amazing him with her physical strength. Despite her half-Klingon heritage, he had made the mistake of disregarding her as a mere woman, and her strong furious punches swiftly proved him wrong.

Tom froze on the bed, his eyes fixated on the grappling couple, flinching with each punch, whether it connected on B'Elanna's body or Chakotay's. After all the months of praying for rescue, now everything was happening too fast, too violently and he found himself helpless to even move.

And over and over in his head, like a broken recording, he kept replaying the moment that Chakotay had protectively thrust him backwards, and had covered his body with his own.

The fact that B'Elanna had been aiming at Chakotay wasn't the issue. The fact was, that Chakotay had instinctively tried to protect *him*. So perhaps it wasn't *so* surprising that he winced as badly when B'Elanna struck a blow as when Chakotay did.

Before he could reconcile his ambivalence towards his rescuers, the air shimmered and Tuvok materialized, flanked by two security guards. Casting a quick judgmental look at the naked state of both Tom and Chakotay, yet completely disregarding Harry's babbling panic, Tuvok instructed the guards to separate and restrain *both* the protagonists.

It proved impossible for the two men to successfully separate Chakotay and B'Elanna. Both fought the guards as violently as they did each other. In the end, Tuvok stepped in and applied a nerve-pinch to B'Elanna, freeing the two guards to restrain the Commander.

Chakotay roared with the fury of a wild beast as his arms were twisted behind his back and quickly secured. Yet, as soon as he realized the futility of his struggles, a shutter of calm shot down over his features with unnatural speed, and he turned calmly to Tuvok.

"Thank you for your assistance, Tuvok. These two," and he nodded his head at B'Elanna's still body and Harry's gibbering panic, "broke into my quarters and attacked me."

"Evidently, Commander. The question remains, however, as to *why* they attacked you," Tuvok replied coldly.

"Jealousy," Chakotay pronounced calmly. "When Tom had his breakdown they both turned their backs on him. Now he is beginning to feel a little better, and has embarked on a romantic relationship with me, they are reacting out of nothing more than plain jealousy."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow doubtfully. He did not believe it was quite ethical to engage in sexual relations with a person who was mentally ill, but the logical approach would have been for Kim and Torres to raise a complaint with the Captain, rather than physically attack Chakotay. The only crime, other than a possible moral one, seemed to be the actions of Lieutenants Kim and Torres.

He decided to release the Commander. It would be up to the Captain and the Doctor to decide whether the relationship between Chakotay and Tom Paris could continue.

Harry watched in disbelief as Tuvok gestured to the guards to release Chakotay's restraints.

"What about Tom?" he demanded furiously. "You aren't seriously going to allow *that* bastard to keep raping him, are you?"

Tuvok turned to him in surprise. Rape was a completely different issue. He had assumed that Chakotay and Tom were engaged in a consensual relationship. Although, of course, if Tom was mentally deranged, it could be construed as statutory rape anyway. He gave a quick gesture that froze the security guards in their act of releasing Chakotay, and turned towards Tom.

Tom was pale and shaking, his hands nervously fluttering in front of his exposed groin, yet other than the obvious shock, which could easily be explained by the violence he had just witnessed, he looked better than Tuvok remembered. His hair was freshly washed, the dark circles that had shadowed his eyes were gone, and he had regained most of the weight that he had lost before his breakdown. He had lost some muscle tone, but that was to be expected given his lack of exercise. All in all, Tom looked vibrantly healthy,

Carefully, since he was aware of the Captain's standing order that Tom was not to be put under stress, Tuvok asked, "Is your relationship with the Commander consensual, Lieutenant?"

Tom looked helplessly at Chakotay and saw the older man's smug grin. Even bound naked, surrounded by security guards, Chakotay's supreme confidence was like a dash of cold water over Tom's hopes.

*The Captain knows,* he told himself, *so Tuvok probably knows too. This is a trap. A test.*

Facing Chakotay's confident smirk, and Tuvok's pitiless stare, he couldn't believe anything else.

"Yes," he whispered, bowing his head in defeat. "I love Chakotay."

Since the Commander was restrained, there was no reason for Tuvok to believe that Tom was under any pressure to agree. In fact, he was pleasantly surprised by the lucidity of Tom's response and Tuvok put his bowed head and low voice down to embarrassment about his confession.

"Release -," Tuvok began, only to be interrupted by Harry's scream of defiance.

"Are you fucking BLIND, Tuvok?" he roared.

Of course, he had seen Tom *before* Chakotay had thrust him backwards out of the way.

"He's been beaten black and blue, Tuvok," Harry raged.

Tuvok looked again at Tom. There wasn't a mark on him. He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"His ASS, Tuvok. Just look at his fucking ass, PLEASE," Harry begged, tears of frustration beginning to roll down his cheeks.

It was only logical to check, Tuvok decided, although he was beginning to believe that the only mentally deranged people in these quarters were Kim and Torres. He approached Tom, noting the way he flinched at his approach.

"Turn over please," he asked as gently as possible.

Tom's cheeks flamed and he looked helplessly at Chakotay. He shuddered at the flare of violence that was now emanating from Chakotay's eyes.

"Turn over please," Tuvok repeated more firmly.

Tom flinched, but complied, sitting up and then bending forwards on his hands and knees to expose his ass.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," O'Halloran hissed, then reached swiftly for his phaser and trained it on Chakotay.

Looking equally sick, Bennett took position to cover Chakotay from the other side.

Feeling desperately ashamed at his failure to check Harry Kim's accusations properly, Tuvok comforted himself that he had, at least, brought security guards who weren't Maquis.

"Transport the *Commander* to the brig," he ordered, "but do *not* make any log entries regarding this incident. Seal the doors and keep a communications blackout until I have spoken to the Captain."

"Aye, Sir," O'Halloran replied, taking hold of one of Chakotay's biceps.

Suddenly Chakotay went wild, twisting his body to escape and he ran towards Tuvok, lowering his head like a charging bull.

"SIMON," he roared.

The double-phaser fire hit him simultaneously in the back and he collapsed at Tuvok's feet.

"Shame they were set on stun," O'Halloran hissed, dragging Chakotay to his feet and holding him for the site-to-site transport. "Poor little bastard," he added, looking at Tom, then in a shimmer of a transporter beam they were gone.

"Tuvok to the Doctor, please lock onto my location and proceed here directly for a medical emergency," the Vulcan snapped into his comm. badge.

"Why aren't you taking him to Sickbay?" Harry demanded. "And why the hell are you keeping *his* arrest quiet?"

"Because, until we know who else knew what was going on here, we cannot discount the possibility of a mutiny, Lieutenant. Chakotay is the leader of the Maquis. We cannot assume that *any* of them can be trusted."

Harry bit back his anger and nodded solemnly. Tuvok was right. God help Tom if the Maquis acted to release Chakotay and he somehow ended up free again, or maybe even in charge of Voyager. The thought alone made Harry shudder.

"I'm pretty certain that Ayala and Dalby knew," he said.

"Then as soon as I have informed the Captain, I shall talk to them," Tuvok promised.

~~~

"It is most regrettable that I did not give immediate credence to Lieutenant Kim's accusations," Tuvok stated. His Vulcan mask of impassiveness didn't falter but Kathryn could detect a discernable note of embarrassment in his tone.

"Why should you have?" she replied bitterly. "I am a Starfleet Captain. I'm responsible for the health and well-being of everyone on board. He fooled *me*, Tuvok. For nearly six years I nurtured a nest of vipers. I was blind Tuvok. It's unforgivable."

"Commander Chakotay's talent for deception has indeed fooled us both, Captain. Despite my original concerns regarding the merging of the two crew, he has never once, by word or deed, given any credence to those suspicions. I allowed myself to become complacent. Given my experience of the Commander's impeccable behavior, it became illogical to entertain suspicion regarding his activities. When I entered his quarters, despite the obvious evidence of a sexual liaison between the Commander and Lieutenant Paris, it did not even occur to me that there was anything amiss," Tuvok confessed.

"Poor Tom," Kathryn sighed. "He trusted me, Tuvok. He believed in me, and I turned him over to that monster and never once suspected anything. I don't deserve to be the Captain of this ship. How could I have been so damned stupid?"

"We were all deceived, Captain. Your judgment was no more at fault than that of anyone else on this ship. The Commander's tampering with the Doctor was a masterful subterfuge. The situation could not have happened under normal circumstances. Had we a *real* doctor, the Commander's plan could not have been effected," Tuvok reminded her.

"B'Elanna says there is no way to restore the Doctor's original files. There is nothing but circumstantial evidence. Now that the Doctor is back on line and functioning correctly, he has confirmed that Tom has possibly suffered a number of injuries over the past months. Despite the regeneration he has a build up of internal scar tissue that suggests a catalogue of abuse. Even so, Tom's medical records show evidence of similar injuries going back a number of years and it is impossible to definitely state which scars are recent."

"There is not sufficient evidence to charge Chakotay," Tuvok agreed solemnly.

Kathryn's eyes sparked with her impotent fury.

"I will NOT allow him to get away with it, Tuvok. There has to be a way of proving what has been going on," she snarled.

"I have questioned both Ayala and Dalby, at Lieutenant's Kim's suggestion, and am equally certain that they are being dishonest in their protestations of innocence. However, they are either loyal to Chakotay or more probably simply protecting themselves from charges. The Commander maintains that his relationship with Mr. Paris is consensual and that the injuries are consistent with a mutually satisfactory sexual deviance."

Kathryn rubbed her face tiredly. "I fail to comprehend how anyone could find it sexually satisfying to beat their partner to a bloody pulp, Tuvok."

"Personal sexual practices vary not only from species to species, but encompass a huge spectrum within each species. It is because of the need for tolerance of those differences that they are not subject to Starfleet regulations, Captain. Regardless of his physical injuries, unless independent evidence comes to light or Mr. Paris confirms that he was being held involuntarily by the Commander, there are no charges that I can bring."

"Why *won't* he talk to me, Tuvok? Why won't he talk to anyone?" Kathryn demanded.

"Shock, perhaps, or fear of reprisal. It is possible that he is unable to judge whether he can trust any of us. It would seem improbable to him that we were unaware of the situation, in which case he is unlikely to say anything that will incriminate the Commander. There is also the possibility that he has developed genuine feelings of attachment towards him," Tuvok replied.

"That's crazy," Kathryn spat.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, it would be a most *human* reaction to his situation. Given the absolute power that Chakotay wielded over him, it would have been logical for Mr. Paris to develop ambivalent feelings. To survive he would have had to learn to *please*. His whole existence would have revolved around attempting to create a bond between himself and his captor. The Commander was not only the source of his pain, but also his only source of comfort, food and solace.

"Lieutenant Torres's description of the way Mr. Paris behaved with Crewman Dalby, before his alleged breakdown, suggests that he does respond sexually to a certain level of violence. If that is true, then it would have been difficult for him to differentiate between what was rape and what was consensual. If the rape resulted in his own orgasm, he would have quickly lost the ability to distinguish between pain and pleasure.

"To be able to anticipate what would prevent the Commander's violence, Mr. Paris would have had to learn to think like him, to empathize with him, and in so doing, he will have lost the ability to distance himself. People only truly hate what they do not understand. In learning to understand the Commander's motivations, Mr. Paris would inevitably have found some sympathy for his position.

"Furthermore, given his own lack of self-confidence, and the guilt that he still bears over his past, Mr. Paris possibly believes that he deserved the abuse," Tuvok concluded.

"So the fact that Tom keeps insisting that he loves Chakotay, could actually be the truth, rather than something he is saying through fear?" Kathryn asked in despair.

"Indeed. However, whichever explanation is true, neither is a rational response. It is imperative that Tom sees Chakotay punished for his actions, so that he can understand that they *were* wrong and that we did not condone them."

"I know how you feel about mind-melds, Tuvok. You made your position clear before Tom moved in with Chakotay. However, I cannot see any other way to get to the bottom of what has happened. Without the facts, we cannot press charges. Unless we have evidence, the Maquis will rebel and support Chakotay. We have to be able to prove to *them* that Chakotay has acted improperly."

"My original reservations about enforced mind-melds remain, Captain," Tuvok replied. "However, had I done as you suggested at the time, then Mr. Paris would not have been subjected to the Commander's abuse. I will comply."

~~~

"Tom?"

"Yes, Captain?" he replied softly, although his knuckles whitened as he grasped the blanket and he pulled it tighter around him like armor.

Although he had now been moved from Chakotay's quarters to sickbay, he was still uncertain whether he had been rescued or not. Everyone *seemed* to be saying the right things, but he had learned the hard way that Chakotay's eyes and ears were everywhere.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that this was an elaborate ruse, and he was being extremely careful not to say anything wrong. He had decided that it would be only natural to respond to the name of "Tom" though. He couldn't imagine Chakotay wanting him to call himself "Simon" in public.

Yet, still, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. What is this really *was* a rescue and his constant, fear-filled assertions that he loved Chakotay caused him to be given back?

"I wanted to tell you this myself, before you heard it from Harry," Kathryn replied, sitting carefully on the edge of the bio-bed.

He flinched a little as she sat. He turned his dull blue eyes to meet hers but couldn't hold the gaze. She saw his head droop and he began to pick at invisible threads on the blanket.

"I know what happened to you now and I am so sorry, Tom. Gregor Ayala, Michael Smith and Kenneth Dalby have been charged with Rape and Grievous Bodily Harm, Tom. They have been confined to the brig where they will remain until their trial. They can't hurt you anymore. No one will *ever* hurt you anymore, I promise."

Tom jerked and looked up, his face filled with confused hope, yet he was too cautious still to reply. Mistaking the reason for his silence, Kathryn hastened to explain.

"There is no doubt about their guilt, Tom, but a public trial is necessary so that the other crew-members know without doubt that they *are* guilty. I know that what happened to you is terrible, and that you would probably rather it remain secret. But there is no shame in this for you. You did nothing wrong. You were the victim, Tom. I assure you that no-one will think any less of you. The only shame on Voyager is that of the rest of us, for letting this happen to you."

"What about Chakotay?" Tom asked cautiously.

Kathryn sighed. This was the hardest part. She couldn't possibly let Tom think that Chakotay wasn't to be punished, but, still, she couldn't ignore Tuvok's findings either.

She took Tom's right hand in her own and gently massaged his fingers.

"Chakotay is ill, Tom. Mentally unstable. He can't be tried. By Starfleet Law, he would be found not guilty by reason of insanity. He's delusional, Tom. That doesn't in any way justify or excuse his actions, but legally it does make a difference. Ayala, Smitty and Dalby all knew exactly what they were doing. They took advantage of Chakotay's illness, in an attempt to force him into a position where he would start a mutiny and take over Voyager.

"I don't know whether this makes it worse or better, but their abuse of you was never personal, Tom. It was calculated to make Chakotay act in a certain way. They were like puppet-masters, feeding Chakotay's delusions to grab control for themselves. With Chakotay as Captain and consumed by his obsession by you, or should I say Simon, they would have effectively been in charge."

"Simon," Tom repeated bleakly.

"I'm sure that the Doctor can explain the details to you better, Tom, but Chakotay is suffering from a form of Psychosis. He has been living in a border-line delusional state for years, since the death of this Simon. Ayala and the others began to fuel the psychosis after we had that incident with Captain Ransom. Instead of being appalled by his actions, they decided that he was right, that any cost was worth paying to get home.

"My own alienation with Chakotay over the incident, only served to play into their hands. Perhaps it even gave them the idea of using you to drive the wedge deeper between Chakotay and I. "

"Can he be cured?" Tom interrupted quietly.

"What?" Kathryn asked in surprise.

"Chakotay, can he be cured?"

"He has a severe chemical imbalance, Tom. The Doctor believes it originated from a Cardassian air-borne viral weapon that he was exposed to during the raid that freed Geron and Simon. Tuvok is talking to Geron now, trying to establish more details of exactly what form of experimentation went on in that Cardassian camp. It seems that Chakotay was suffering from the infection at the time of Simon's death. That's why his delusions became specific to Simon, and by default you."

"You didn't answer my question," Tom said dully.

"Yes, Tom. The Doctor believes he can isolate the infected areas of Chakotay's brain, the places where his delusions originate, and can cure him. The problem is, that we can't put him on trial without curing him first, and if we do cure him, would it be fair to then prosecute him for something he did when he was insane?

"I have to discuss this with *you*, Tom because I cannot let you think that your own suffering is in any way less important than his. YOU are the victim here, even if Chakotay was not responsible for his actions. If you need him to be punished, and god knows I will understand if you do, then perhaps it would be better for us *not* to attempt the cure. At least that way the man who is punished will be the man who committed the crime.

"After the trial, Ayala, Smith and Dalby will be left on a suitable uninhabited planet. I cannot condone a corporal punishment, and am unwilling to keep them in the brig for the duration of the journey, so they will be left behind. As for Chakotay, his fate is in your hands Tom. If you cannot bear to see him again, if you can't face the idea of him remaining on board, I suggest that we simply leave him with the others."

"Without a trial?" Tom demanded, both relieved and shocked by the suggestion.

Kathryn shrugged unhappily.

"After the trial of the others, everyone will know what Chakotay did. There will be no protest from the rest of the crew. It is not even necessary for us to admit to his illness being the cause. That's why the others haven't been charged with attempted mutiny. "

"You'd do that for me? Just leave him behind?" Tom asked uncertainly.

"Tom, there is *nothing* I can ever do to make up for my lack of judgment. I placed you in the hands of a mad man, and walked away. I failed you. I failed him. But, at this point, it is you I am most concerned about. I need you to realize that we were blind, stupid and arrogant, but that we didn't know, we didn't condone his treatment of you and that you can stop being afraid.

"Admit that you hate him. Hell, you can tell me you hate me, I wouldn't blame you, and for God's sake, stop believing that any of this was your fault. It wasn't. You didn't deserve this. No-one could possibly deserve what happened to you."

"If he is cured, will he, will he remember what he did?" Tom mumbled.

"The Doctor isn't positive, although he says the likelihood is that he will remember what he has done."

Tom shuddered.

"That would be worse, wouldn't it?" he finally muttered.

"Chakotay being sane but having to face the guilt of his actions?"

"Yeah," Tom confirmed, biting his lower lip.

"I think it would be terrible, Tom. I don't believe that he would be able to live with the memories, especially not if he was seeing you every day. So even if you could deal with him staying on board, I don't believe it would work. It would be best, all round, to leave him with the others, I think."

She waited patiently as he absorbed her words. Emotions chased over his pale features like storm clouds; hate, fear, uncertainty, sorrow and finally resignation.

"When are you going to do it?" Tom asked.

"I think the sooner the better, Tom. The crew are already up in arms, wondering what's going on. We have located a planet which appears suitable and will arrive there later today. If it proves viable, then it should all be over by this time tomorrow."

"Thank you, Captain," Tom whispered. "I think I'd like to sleep now, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, Tom. I'll advise the Doctor not to proceed with the operation. Try and get some rest. If you want me for *anything*, don't hesitate to call me."

~~~

"Geron says he's going too," Harry admitted nervously.

Tom just gave a weary smile.

"Of course he is," he answered. "He loves Greg."

"It's crazy," Harry spat.

"Yeah," Tom agreed, but he'd truly never expected anything else. As soon as the Captain had mentioned that Ayala would be banished to the planet, he had *known* that Geron would insist on going too. And since Ayala didn't seem to mind sharing, maybe Chakotay would eventually get over the absence of "Simon."

It had been the thing that had bothered him most. The Captain's decision had made sense. Shit, he could barely face the memories of Caldik Prime, and he had been responsible for what had happened. How the hell would Chakotay live with the memory of the last three months?

He had seen enough of the gentle side of Chakotay to know that under the madness there was a man of intense pride and deep compassion. How could *that* Chakotay face the demons that had lurked in his own soul and survive?

He knew that Harry and B'Elanna were mad with him for not demanding his pound of flesh. They couldn't understand why he wasn't champing at the bit, screaming his outrage, demanding vengeance. They said he should insist that Chakotay was forced to face up to his actions. Yet, how could hurting Chakotay mend his own wounds? Would Chakotay's pain erase his own? Could the ripping of Chakotay's soul help mend the tatters of his own? He didn't believe so.

To be honest, all he wanted to do was sleep some more. He wanted to escape from reality into dreams until it was all over. He didn't want to wake up until the planet, and Chakotay, were reduced to an old log entry. Maybe he simply didn't want to *ever* wake up again.

Yet Chakotay haunted his dreams. Since the Captain had suggested that Chakotay simply be left behind, he could see nothing when he closed his eyes but Chakotay's maddened face screaming "SIMON" as the phasers cut him down.

"Harry, would you ask the Captain to visit me if she has time?" he asked quietly.

"Sure, Tom," Harry replied, looking worriedly at Tom's white face, and deciding it had been a mistake to mention the Bajoran.

~~~

"It's not right, Captain," Tom said slowly.

"What isn't?"

"Making Chakotay live without Simon. Letting him worry forever what is happening to him."

"Tom, there *is* no Simon," Kathryn replied carefully.

"I know that, Captain, but *he* doesn't," Tom replied. "It's not fair. He's ill. If he was bleeding to death you wouldn't refuse to treat him, you wouldn't leave him in pain. There's no difference. You know he's ill, you know the cure, you have to do it."

"And what if the cure proves fatal, Tom? What if he literally can't live with the memories?"

Tom shrugged.

"I don't know," he confessed. "All I know is that you can't allow him to keep his delusions about Simon. He really loves him. Losing him again would break his heart and that's not punishment, that's just cruelty. If the only way to remove his feelings for Simon is to cure him completely, then maybe the Doctor could remove his memory of the last few months at the same time. I can cope with that. Hell, it won't be like he will hurt me again, will it? After he has forgotten Simon, and my resemblance to him, the real Chakotay probably won't even notice I exist."

"Tom, I have to ask you this. *Do* you love Chakotay?" Kathryn asked worriedly. The generosity of Tom's offer wasn't natural in her opinion.

Tom gave a bitter laugh.

"I'm not the crazy one, Captain, remember? He's a sadistic fuck. I hate him." he barked.

"You *did* tell me you loved him, Tom," Kathryn reminded him gently.

"I was confused. I thought, I thought you *knew*," Tom confessed. "I was just scared."

Kathryn squeezed his shoulder.

"I *should* have known, Tom. I'm glad that you are feeling better though and beginning to gain some perspective. We were concerned that you had really begun to feel something for Chakotay. It's a natural reaction under the circumstances. Only it would concern me greatly if it was true."

"No fear of that, Captain. I have a far too well-developed sense of self-preservation," Tom replied blithely, finally rewarding her with a pale shadow of his old cocky smirk.

Relieved, she patted his shoulder awkwardly and rose to her feet.

"I'll talk to the Doctor. Perhaps there is a way of curing the delusions AND inhibiting his memories. Could you live with that though, Tom? Chakotay remaining on board but never knowing what he did to you?"

"You'd have to re-think the trial, Captain. Maybe you should just charge them with mutiny and leave them behind. Leave me out of the equation completely. Only Harry, B'El, Geron, you and Security know what happened. Perhaps you should leave it that way. If Chakotay stays on board, the rest of the Maquis will stay in line. It's the best solution."

Kathryn re-evaluated the situation quickly. Tom was right. It would be cleaner this way. Tom would never have to face the pity of the rest of the crew. Chakotay would never have to face the guilt of actions he had never had any control over. The bad elements would be eradicated and Voyager could move on. Tom's bravery astounded her, however. Six hours ago she had doubted he would ever be able to function again. He had been curled in a terrified ball, flinching from her approach, desperately trying to assure her that he *loved* Chakotay in obvious fear that she was part of an elaborate deception.

Yet a few hours later, he was sane, rational and offering her a solution that they could hopefully all live with. A solution in which the only cost would be paid by Tom Paris himself as he pretended that nothing had happened, as he daily faced a man who would have no memory of torturing him

"You're a brave and good man, Tom," she said.

He flushed. "Well, like I said, I'm the consummate survivor, Captain," he joked.

She was a little disconcerted by his humor, by his very calmness. She would have to arrange for Tuvok to call by and see him, she decided. Surprisingly, Tuvok seemed to have a clear grasp of the possible mental effects of the type of experience Tom had suffered. Perhaps he would be able to see through Tom's mask of calmness. She had lost confidence in her own ability to accurately read another's soul, yet had a feeling that a lot more was going on behind Tom's eyes than his bland expression suggested.

She would, however, take Tom's suggestion and act on it. While there would probably be a price to pay further down the line, at the moment, it seemed the only viable option.

Tom waited until the door whispered shut behind her before he began to cry.

~~~

"I don't care if it was Tom's idea. You can't honestly expect us to just pretend nothing happened, Captain," B'Elanna roared, surging to her feet in agitation.

Kathryn disregarded the breach of protocol. It was best that tempers were aired here in the privacy of her ready room than allowed to fester.

"Chakotay was sick, B'Elanna. He didn't know what he was doing," she explained again.

"Too damned right he's sick. Dalby told me everything," she hissed. "What Chakotay and those other bastards did to Tom is past sick, it's disgusting."

"Well that explains Crewman Dalby's black eyes," the Doctor muttered.

"Did you know that Chakotay used to make Tom piss himself, and then beat him for it? That he told Dalby to give him nightly enemas with the high-pressure maintenance hose? That there were times when the beatings were so bad that Tom couldn't even walk?" B'Elanna screamed to the room in general.

"Tom never told me that," Harry muttered, his golden skin turning puce.

"That's exactly my point. I know, Tuvok knows and presumably you know all the details, Captain. But Tom isn't admitting anything except the fact that he was held captive and raped. Come to think of it, he's never said that word either. He just says that Chakotay had sex with him. So if he can't face what happened to him, if he is blocking it out, how can you accept his suggestion to let Chakotay walk free? If Tom can't face his own memories, how the hell is he going to face Chakotay?" B'Elanna demanded.

"I agree that Mr. Paris still must come to terms with his experiences," Tuvok agreed solemnly. "He will continue to attend counseling sessions until such time as he can face the experience rather than continue his current state of denial. However, he is a resilient young man. Our acceding to his wishes, with regard to the treatment of the Commander, is the first step in regaining his trust. The issue here is not only the Commander's actions, but our own lack of action."

B'Elanna sat down abruptly, her rage dampened by a wave of shame. Tuvok was right. A lot of her aggression came from her own feelings of failure. She had turned her back on Tom, had virtually thrown him into Chakotay's waiting arms. Her own memory of striking Tom in the Mess hall haunted her constantly.

"Besides, B'Elanna. Chakotay has no memory at all of the events. As far as he is aware, Ayala staged an attempted mutiny, and he himself suffered a head injury when he attempted to stop it. He has accepted that injury as the reason for his occasional memory gaps and is ready to resume his duties," Kathryn added.

"Oh yeah, Chakotay the hero," B'Elanna spat, her ire sparked back into flame. "Even if you had to cover up what he did to Tom, did you really need to make out that he saved the ship from this so-called mutiny?"

"It was necessary to ratify the decision to put the "mutineers" off the ship. It was important to ensure that none of the former-Maquis objected to the closed trial and the most efficient way to ensure that was Chakotay's clear alliance with the Captain during the supposed incident. Our primary objective was to secure the safety of the ship," Tuvok explained unrepentantly.

"How do you know he isn't acting, still?" Harry demanded.

"I assure you I was most thorough with my operation," the Doctor huffed.

"I wasn't suggesting you weren't. But none of us saw through him before. How do we know that he can be trusted? I mean, how do we know that a sane Chakotay is any more trustworthy than an insane one?" Harry continued doggedly.

"We don't," the Captain confessed reluctantly. "I would like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Tom's safety and that of the whole ship must come first. I authorized the placement of a monitoring device in the back of Chakotay's skull. It will allow us to monitor him constantly, whether he wears a comm. badge or not. We will always know where he is. I also asked the Doctor to place one in Tom," she added, raising her hands placatingly against the outrage of B'Elanna and Harry.

"Tom's device is not to monitor his behavior. It is linked only to Chakotay's signal. Any time that the two of them are within touching distance, Tuvok will be alerted to monitor the situation."

"Does Tom know about the device?" Harry asked.

"No. I believe it would alienate him, make him feel that I am doubting his decision to allow Chakotay to remain on board. Tom is fragile enough, at the moment, without him feeling that we don't trust him. My only concern here is for his safety, but I doubt he will fully understand that at the moment, so I have not told him about either device and I trust that you will not betray my confidence."

B'Elanna and Harry nodded grimly, but Harry couldn't stop himself from muttering "It sucks," in a near whisper.

"Indeed it does "suck" Harry," Kathryn agreed, trying not to smile at Harry's embarrassed blush.

"However, there is another reason we have fitted the devices. While I do not normally concern myself in the private relationships of the crewmembers, I would be most disturbed if in ignorance of his previous actions, Chakotay should make any physical advances towards Tom. The fact that Tom so closely resembles the appearance of "Simon" suggests that if Chakotay is attracted to a particular physical type, then Tom is likely to draw his attention. Should that happen, I need to be in a position to intervene before Tom panics," she explained, deciding not to mention her fear that "panic" wouldn't be Tom's reaction. She couldn't trust Tom's ability to understand his own feelings towards Chakotay, and certainly would not allow the Pilot to make such a tragic mistake as to become involved with Chakotay again, under any circumstances.

Oblivious to the possibility that Tom might harbor anything but terror of Chakotay, B'Elanna and Harry both shuddered as they imagined how Tom might react under the circumstances, and this time they met Kathryn's stare with tacit approval for her subterfuge.

"When is Tom returning to duty?" Harry asked.

"I believe that the sooner Mr. Paris returns to the helm, and faces the Commander, the better," the Doctor stated emphatically.

"Half-shifts at first," Kathryn clarified. "We need to let Tom know that we trust his ability to fly, without placing him under undue stress. He spent this morning on the holodec, flying a simulation and interacting with a hologram of Chakotay. After some initial nervousness, he performed admirably. As long as the real Chakotay acts in a purely professional manner towards him, I have faith in Tom's ability to pull this off. I trust that none of you will let him down by letting your own feelings interfere with your duties. If Tom can attempt to forgive Chakotay, then none of us have the right to be so self-indulgent as to allow our own personal feelings to show.

"Please bear in mind that Chakotay has no idea of what he has done. Any coldness or antipathy from you will cause him to question your behavior. I will not allow Tom's self-sacrifice to be in vain. We are a long way from home, we need everyone to pull together if we are going to survive. We need Chakotay. Try and remember that this Chakotay has done nothing wrong. Dismissed."

~~~

Tom was proud of his performance on the holodec. Aware that he was being closely monitored, he greeted the hologram of Chakotay with aplomb, seated himself at the "helm" and proceeded to run through a series of simulated situations.

Admittedly the hairs on the nape of his neck crawled constantly as he pictured Chakotay's dark eyes boring into the back of his head and he successfully disproved the manufacturers claims regarding his underarm deodorant. He could feel sweat pooling in his armpits and the middle of his back. Wearing clothes at all had become so unfamiliar that the additional friction of the spreading patches of damp gave him the bizarre urge to strip his uniform top off completely.

Yet, other than nearly jumping out of his skin when the holo-Chakotay suddenly appeared at his shoulder to peer down at his console, Tom knew that his performance had been stellar. Admittedly his stats were lower than they had ever been, but they still made Hamilton look like a raw cadet in comparison, so he was confident that he would be cleared to fly.

It was all he could think about. Flying again. Escaping just for a few hours the hell of his own thoughts and simply being, simply doing the one thing that he could do without thought, without doubt. Even if he did have to share the bridge with Chakotay's eyes.

He retired to bed early, unable to face the thought of visiting the mess hall, let alone the holodecs. Fortunately, the Captain had been kind enough to credit his ration account with a suspiciously large amount. Guilt money, probably. Yet since it allowed him to eat alone for the foreseeable future he decided to quietly accept the offering.

Besides, he felt guilty too. He had lied to the Captain. Had lied to everyone, come to think of it. If silence could be construed as a lie.

Because it was all very well for them to believe that Ayala, Smitty and Dalby had orchestrated Chakotay's behavior. It had, at least, ensured that Chakotay could stay on board. But the truth was, that Chakotay had been controlling him for years. Without wiping out the last eight years of Chakotay's life, how the hell could the Doctor fully eradicate Chakotay's memories since the thought of Simon had evidently consumed every moment of those eight years?

Only for those eight years, it had been his face that Chakotay had seen.

If the Doctor had truly removed every memory of Simon, Chakotay's brain would look like Swiss Cheese. The very fact that Chakotay would be returning to duty tomorrow proved conclusively to Tom that Chakotay's "chemical imbalance" might have been cured, and with it, hopefully, his uncontrolled mood swings, his cruelty and his hatred for Tom Paris but underneath he must still retain his feelings for Simon.

Because Chakotay's love for Simon had been real. The other things he had done were irrelevant. Chakotay had never hurt Simon. He had only hurt Tom. He had struck out at Tom in the madness of his grief. Simon he had cherished. He had raped Tom, but he had made love to Simon. And when B'Elanna had pointed her phaser, Chakotay hadn't hesitated to protect Simon with his very life.

And because the memory of the real Simon had gone, surely Chakotay would now believe that since Tom's face represented those feelings, that the feelings were really for him.

Somewhere, the man who loved Simon still existed and Tom was going to find him.

But this time, he was going to ensure that the name Chakotay cried out in passion was "Tom".

~~~

Chakotay was feeling oddly unsettled as he sat in his command chair on the Bridge. He had been aware of Kathryn's surreptitious glances all morning and Harry Kim had looked definitely uncomfortable when they had met in the turbolift on the way to shift. The gaps in his memory troubled him greatly, and evidently were a matter of concern for other people too. Maybe he should have taken the couple of extra days sick leave that the Captain had offered, he pondered.

It wasn't like amnesia, exactly. He still knew who he was, and why he was on Voyager rather than the Crazy Horse. He remembered the rest of Voyager's crew, well most of them anyway, and had numerous specific memories of the various adventures and encounters that they had experienced together. Yet, like a broken jigsaw puzzle, there were a vast number of gaps in his memories.

For instance, he could remember the Caretaker's array, and Ocampa, but he couldn't remember anything of the first couple of weeks on Voyager when the crew first merged. He could remember Harry Kim being a naive, sweet-natured Ensign, but hadn't the faintest idea how he had turned into a brash lieutenant who was apparently shacked up with B'Elanna Torres and had developed some chip on his shoulder judging by his brusque manner in the lift.

Yet the weirdest thing of all was that although he "remembered" Tom Paris, he had been momentarily stunned when the pilot had nervously scuttled across the bridge to take his place at the helm, reaching his post with scant seconds to spare. Tom's tardiness hadn't surprised him. He had a clear memory that time-keeping was not one of the pilot's strengths. No, what had amazed him was that he had met Tom in the Maquis, had served with him on Voyager for six years, and he had never once actually seen him before.

Shit! Tom Paris was a babe! Damn, maybe it had taken a knock on his head for him to see clearly for the first time in years. Tom Paris was six foot three of long-legged, blond SEX.

But it wasn't just the change in Tom's appearance that bothered him. It was more than that. The pilot's mannerisms were wrong. Chakotay's memories insisted that Tom was a big-mouthed, cocky, arrogant bastard. Yet the evidence before his eyes denied those memories, convincing him that he wasn't only suffering from memory gaps but from an altered state of reality.

Hell, how could Tom have ever been perceived by him as anything other than the shy, nervous young man that he evidently was?

It was as though he was looking at his past through a lens of distortion, where everything was just a tiny bit off-kilter. Somehow his mind had gotten Harry and Tom mixed up. Obviously, Harry Kim had always been the brash, brusque man he had disliked, and Tom was the naive one whom he felt protective towards.

The blow to his head hadn't given him false memories, it had just jumbled them up.

He wondered whether he should discuss these new symptoms with the Doctor, but decided that it would only cause Kathryn to worry even more about him. He was constantly aware that she was glancing at him from the corner of her eyes and that Tuvok, despite his typically professional manner, was also keeping a quiet vigil.

The Doctor had assured him that although he had probably lost certain memories for good, that the neural pathways of his brain would quickly learn to circumnavigate the gaps and would close them up until he was barely aware of the problem. The same healing process would undoubtedly deal with the memories that were "wrong".

All he had to do was deal with people as he currently found them, and ignore his own obviously faulty recollections. Perhaps the best way to start the healing process would be to spend a little time with the real Tom Paris. Surely his interaction with the blond would quickly dispel Harry Kim's face from his memory.

He chuckled quietly. Who was he trying to fool? He didn't want to spend time with Tom Paris for medical reasons. The only playing Doctor he had in mind was of a completely different nature.

Spirits, why the hell hadn't he made a move on the pilot before now?

~~~

Tom was barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. He knew that Tuvok was keeping a close eye on him. The Vulcan had even surreptitiously logged into the helm at one point and entered a necessary course correction when a low chuckle from Chakotay had caused Tom to freeze in terror during a complex maneuver.

It had seemed so easy on the holodec, when he had interacted with the holo-Chakotay. He had been sure that he could deal with the sight of the real Commander. What he hadn't anticipated was the smell of him. The way his own nostrils constantly flared as a faint whiff of eau de Chakotay drifted from the Command chair. Tom could feel the perspiration dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes until they burned. His fingers were shaking so badly he could barely move them over the helm and minute tremors chased up and down his back like ghostly fingers playing a violent crescendo on his spine.

When the Captain finally approached him and whispered in his ear, he was so shocked by the touch of her hand on his shoulder that he nearly crawled under the console in terror.

"It's 1130, Tom. I think you should call it a day for today," she said quietly, steeling herself against the mute plea of his miserable blue eyes as he interpreted her words as a decision to ground him again.

"I'll see you here again tomorrow, Tom. Bright and early, this time," she joked reassuringly..

Tom released his breath with an audible sigh of relief. It was okay. He hadn't blown it completely. She was going to give him another chance.

"I, I think I would like to go now," he confessed softly.

She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"You did great, Tom. I'm proud of you," she whispered.

The corners of Tom's mouth attempted a tiny smile as he climbed to his feet. He hesitated for a moment, looking anywhere but at the Commander who he would have to pass to exit. Then, ducking his head to avoid Chakotay's eyes, he practically ran off the bridge.

~~~

"May I speak to you privately, Captain?" Chakotay asked, a few moments later.

"Of course," Kathryn agreed casually, rising to her feet.

Chakotay didn't notice the look exchanged between Kathryn and Tuvok, but the Captain's quick glance was enough to warn the Vulcan to switch his monitor to Chakotay's signal. It would be a long time before Kathryn would allow herself to be alone with Chakotay without Tuvok's secret surveillance.

"Coffee?" she asked pleasantly, turning her back to hide her fear as the Ready Room door slid closed behind them. Her heart hammered as she found herself alone with this man. She was suddenly aware of just how physically imposing Chakotay was.

"I'd prefer tea," Chakotay replied, then looked confused. "I do prefer tea, don't I?" he asked nervously.

"Indeed you do," Kathryn replied. "Why don't you get comfortable?"

While she dialed the orders, Chakotay seated himself and it gave her a moment to calm down and fix her expression into a mask of friendliness. Chakotay certainly seemed normal, if a little confused by the gaps in his memory. Yet, she had been fooled by him before. She wasn't going to be so foolish as to offer her trust to him again. He would have to earn it, inch by torturous inch.

"What's troubling you, Commander?" she asked as she placed their drinks on the table and sat down.

"Tom Paris," Chakotay replied.

Kathryn choked a little on her coffee. She had hoped to avoid this conversation for a little longer, but after Tom's early dismissal from the bridge, it had been inevitable that Chakotay would raise the question. If he really was ignorant of what had been going on, of course.

"Tom has been ill," Kathryn replied.

She and Tuvok had discussed at length the cover story for Tom's behavior. She had made a ship-wide announcement that Tom's supposed illness was "off-limits" as a topic of conversation, so as not to impede his recovery, yet since most of the crew were ignorant of Chakotay's actions, there was no way she could stop them possibly discussing Tom's apparent "breakdown" with the Commander.

"I don't remember," Chakotay confessed. "How ill and why?"

"Tom suffered a nervous breakdown, Chakotay, after he was subjected to a brutal rape by some members of the crew who are obviously no longer on board," Kathryn stated bluntly, carefully watching Chakotay's reaction.

"Spirits," Chakotay hissed, his face contorting with apparently sincere horror.

"For the last few months, you have been his counselor, Chakotay. You even let him stay with you for a while until he recovered enough to cope with living in his own quarters again."

"I don't remember any of this," Chakotay choked.

"Obviously, the reason for Tom's breakdown was never made public, and he is slowly trying to get on with his life. He will be working half-shifts for a time, and may, like today, need to leave early. The important thing is that he is allowed to recover in his own time.

"Because of your unfortunate accident, and subsequent loss of memory, Tuvok has taken over as Tom's counselor. It would be unfair for him to have to relieve his experiences again with a counselor who is ignorant of the facts. So I am asking you to leave his further treatment in Tuvok's hands."

"Of course, I understand completely," Chakotay agreed.

No wonder he hadn't seen Tom as a sexual prospect, he told himself. As Tom's counselor it would have been unforgivable for him to act on his own desire for the pilot. It still didn't explain why he had never acted on it before, of course, but he was too horrified by the Captain's revelation to dwell on his own concerns.

The idea that anyone had raped Tom, brutally raped Tom, appalled and disgusted him. No wonder he had looked like a scared rabbit as he had scuttled into the bridge that morning. It was a damned good job that the perpetrators had already left the ship because if they hadn't, Chakotay would have spaced them himself.

"Obviously, I don't have to tell you how vulnerable Tom is feeling at the moment, Chakotay," Kathryn said carefully. "It is imperative that no-one should put him under any "social" pressure because they are ignorant of the facts."

Chakotay nodded decisively. He understood exactly what she was saying. It was fortunate that he hadn't blurted out his own feelings for Tom.

"Don't worry, Kathryn. I will make sure that nobody approaches Tom in that fashion," he swore solemnly.

Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief. Tuvok had evidently been right. Appointing Chakotay as Tom's "protector" would ensure that Chakotay wouldn't entertain any notions towards Tom himself. If the big Maquis truly was cured, then his own sense of duty would prevent him acting on any attraction he might feel.

And if he wasn't, well, letting Chakotay be Tom's "friend" would tempt him to betray himself.

She had felt a little guilty at the thought of using Tom as "bait", but there was no other way to be sure, and the monitoring devices would ensure Tom's safety.

~~~

"Fuck! That hurt," Tom cursed, as he watched the blood welling and beading along the length of his forearm.

He had gone to bed as soon as he had returned to his quarters and had slept right through until the morning. He had stirred a little when his door chime had sounded during the evening, and he had vaguely remembered promising that he would accompany Harry to the mess hall. But he had been too tired to get up and answer the summons. The idea of climbing out of bed was too much effort, let alone getting dressed and facing the crew after the spectacle he had made of himself, scurrying off the bridge like that.

The Captain had made her position clear. If Tom couldn't handle Chakotay staying on board, then Chakotay would be put off the ship. So he had to stop feeling sorry for himself and get his act together.

He picked his knife up again and ran another line parallel to the first.

Hissing with the sharp pain of the cut, he decided he needed to run a third line between the first two. He carefully placed the edge of the blade in the crook of his elbow and slowly sliced until he finished precisely in line with the other cuts, at the point where his wrist met his hand.

He contemplated a fourth line, but decided it would spoil the symmetry of his design. He traced his right forefinger carefully over the wounds, wincing a little as a bead of sweat dripped off his forehead onto the abraded skin. The salt stung so fiercely that his eyes blurred with involuntary tears before he drifted away on the faint waves of pain flowing through his arm.

The beep of his alarm spurred him back to reality. He grabbed the regenerator, ran it quickly over the wounds, until only the thinnest white scars remained, then he washed his arm, threw on his jacket and rushed towards the bridge.

He knew how much Chakotay hated people being late.

~~~

The Commander was beginning to feel truly concerned about Tom Paris. In deference to Tuvok's position as Tom's counselor, he had attempted to stay detached from the Pilot's obvious difficulty in resuming his former life, yet it was not in his nature to sit back and ignore the pain of another human being.

He knew that his own feelings were unimportant, that it would be a long time, if ever, before Tom recovered sufficiently from his experience to deal with the sexual interest of another person. So it wasn't his attraction to the younger man that motivated him to interfere. It was simply his inability to turn his back on Tom's suffering.

The Captain had asked him to keep an eye on the pilot, and run interference between him and the rest of the crew. He understood and applauded her reasoning. It had, however, been a pointless request under the circumstances, since Tom never interacted with any of the crew.

Tom had arrived on the bridge every morning for the past two weeks, had performed his duties adequately, and at lunch time had sped off to his quarters where he had remained until the following morning. Chakotay had checked Tom's replicator records and the energy consumption of his quarters and had reluctantly decided that whatever Tom was doing alone for all that time, he wasn't watching vids or listening to music, he was rarely eating and he certainly didn't appear to be sleeping.

Each time Tom emerged for his next shift he looked paler and more tired than the day before. Chakotay had asked Tuvok whether Tom was suffering from nightmares, since it seemed the most logical reason for the ever-growing dark patches under Tom's dull blue eyes. Tuvok had been a little curt with him for asking, citing the confidentiality between counselor and patient as the reason for his silence on the matter.

Chakotay understood, yet couldn't help feeling a little hurt. He was a counselor himself, after all, and his question had only been prompted by concern. Personally, although he understood Kathryn's decision to pass Tom's care over to Tuvok, he was bemused that Tuvok was so reluctant to confide in him.

He may have lost portions of his memory, including those relating to his own treatment of Tom, yet surely his years of experience in similar matters would make him a natural sounding board for the Vulcan. Tuvok had little or no understanding of the complexities of the human psyche, and Chakotay knew that Tom's refusal to leave his quarters was an indication of intense fear and depression in the younger man.

So, in his appointed role as Tom's "protector", Chakotay decided that it was time that he took matters into his own hands. While he had no intention of interfering in a "professional" capacity, as First Officer the welfare of all of the crew was his legitimate concern.

For the first time ever, he delayed his own arrival at the bridge, checking Tom's position so that he could perfectly synchronize his own emergence into the corridor of the Officers Quarters just seconds after the pilot had scuttled, head bowed, from his own quarters and into the turbolift.

Chakotay coughed, not wanting Tom to panic because he hadn't noticed his entrance. Even so, the younger man spun around in terror and backed quickly into the opposite wall, his eyes panicked.

"Good morning, Tom," Chakotay said softly, pretending not to notice the way Tom's chest was heaving with agitation. Tom didn't reply, his heart was hammering so loudly that it seemed to echo in the tiny compartment and he was breathing so heavily that Chakotay feared he would hyperventilate.

Carefully, Chakotay edged backwards, allowing the Pilot the maximum amount of room. He wondered whether this had been a terrible mistake. Spirits, the way Tom was looking at him, you'd have thought that Tom believed that he was dangerous. Then again, Tom had probably lost the ability to trust anyone, he decided.

"I've been concerned about you, Tom," he said quietly.

Tom's eyes flared with obvious surprise and Chakotay thought he detected a tiny relaxation of the pilot's shoulders. Encouraged, he continued.

"I thought perhaps we could spend a little time together tonight," Chakotay said.

"Together?" Tom gasped, his already pale face losing all remaining color.

"I thought we could share a table in the Mess, Tom and talk a little," Chakotay explained patiently. He hoped that Tom would try and face the Mess Hall as long as he knew that Chakotay would be there too, to support and protect him.

Tom just stared at him with the frozen gaze of an injured deer. His mouth opened and closed several times, but the only sound that emerged was a terrified whimper.

"I'm sorry, Tom. It was a stupid suggestion," Chakotay berated himself, realizing that he had badly miscalculated. He had hoped that Tom would respond to his offer of support. Since he had apparently shared his quarters with Tom after the rape, he had assumed that since Tom understood that he himself was no threat to him, he would feel safe enough with him to face the other diners. Obviously, he had been mistaken.

The turbolift doors opened and Tom began to edge slowly along the wall, evidently desperate to escape. Chakotay stepped back from the doorway, allowing Tom free access to the bridge, and rubbed his eyes tiredly, mentally kicking himself for terrifying Tom so badly. Tom probably needed more time, he decided.

So he couldn't believe it when Tom paused in the doorway, his back to Chakotay and whispered over his shoulder, "What time?"

"Um, 1900?" a now completely confused Chakotay suggested.

Tom's head ducked, in what was presumably a nod, and then he fled towards the helm.

~~~

Tom reached hesitantly into the bathroom cabinet for the hypospray. He had already taken two doses more than he was supposed to and if he took the remaining one, he would either have to get through shift tomorrow without any chemical assistance, or would have to admit what he'd done and run the risk of the Doctor refusing to let him administer his own medicine any more.

Hell, they were only beta-blockers after all, not real drugs. Just something to take the edge off. Alcohol would have done just as well, in his opinion, but despite his flush account, his replicator pointblank refused to dispense anything other than synthale. Undoubtedly at the Captain's orders.

Cursing her well-meaning interference in his life, he reluctantly replaced the hypospray and gulped desperately against the new wave of nausea that shuddered through his body.

Shit, he needed something, anything. If he didn't release the pressure in his head, he was going to explode.

He checked the chronometer. 1800. He had time. If he was careful.

He set the regenerator on the edge of the wash basin, picked up his knife and carved into his arm, tracing along the existing scars until the white tissue burst into a fiery red blaze of pain. He gasped, clenching his teeth against the sharp agony, yet he could feel the nausea receding, washed away in the clean fire of physical pain.

Control. He was in control. This was his pain. Something real, something he could concentrate on to the exclusion of everything else. Something that could at least temporarily quench the unbearable pain in his soul.

He was startled back to reality by the sound of his door chime.

Fuck.

It was 1900 already, he realized, as he glanced in terror at the time. He had lost an hour, although he would have sworn he had only been standing at the basin for a few minutes.

"Just a minute," he called out in panic, running the regenerator rapidly over his arm and rinsing the blood under the tap until the evidence had disappeared. He grabbed the first shirt in his wardrobe and hastily pulled it on, still buttoning the front as he released the door lock.

Chakotay blinked in surprise. If Tom wanted to keep a low profile then the Hawaiian shirt was a strange choice, he thought.

Tom seemed to make the same decision.

"I, I need to change," he gasped and ran to his bedroom, slamming the door.

Tom leant his back against the door and struggled for breath. He had put on a short-sleeved shirt. A fucking short-sleeved shirt. It hadn't been until Chakotay's eyes had widened at the garish top that Tom had remembered the numerous white scars on his left arm.

He stumbled back to the wardrobe and found a long-sleeved black tunic that hung almost to his knees. He inspected himself in the mirror with satisfaction. There was no way he was walking down the corridor with Chakotay with his ass on display, he decided.

He was almost at the bedroom door before he stopped in confusion, turned and ran back to the wardrobe to chose a blue, short-tailed shirt that matched his eyes. Hell, he didn't want Chakotay to think he wasn't interested.

He checked the mirror. Yeah, he looked good in this, he decided. His jeans were just tight enough to show his ass to advantage.

He looked good, looked like Tom Paris, looked like - like- like a FUCKING WHORE!

~~~

Chakotay was beginning to get concerned. He could hear Tom moving around, could hear the slamming of what was presumably his wardrobe door, and was beginning to think he had made a mistake again. If Tom found the idea of leaving his quarters so terrifying that he couldn't even get dressed to go out, then maybe it would be wiser to leave it for a little longer.

He had just decided to say so, when the door opened and Tom emerged, his lanky frame buried beneath a loose pair of maintenance overalls. Apart from the fact that the pilot would look sexy in a sack, in Chakotay's opinion, there was no explanation for the dowdy outfit other than Tom's obvious fear of his own attractiveness.

*You poor little bastard,* Chakotay thought as Tom hovered nervously in front of him, his eyes firmly fixed on the carpet.

"Let's go eat," Chakotay said gently.

Tom looked up in surprise only to see a friendly smile on Chakotay's face. He stared transfixed at the dimples on Chakotay's cheeks, the bright whiteness of the even teeth and the soft warmth in the brown eyes. His own mouth twitched minutely as he attempted an answering smile.

"Okay," he mumbled and followed Chakotay into the corridor.

He was careful to walk a step behind, ensuring that Chakotay was never out of his range of vision. His nerves were on fire. This was the real Chakotay, he told himself over and over. Even when Chakotay had thought he was Simon his face had never been that gentle, his eyes had never been that soft.

Yet, it still felt like he was following a possibly rabid dog, one that could wag its tail at you one moment, then rip your throat out the next.

*I'm in control,* he told himself firmly, although he bitterly regretted not taking that final dose of tranquilizer. He couldn't afford to blow this. It had to work. Chakotay had to really be the man he had fallen in love with.

Because the alternative was unthinkable.

If Chakotay was a monster, if the gentle soul he had occasionally glimpsed beneath the madness was the true illusion, then Tom's own carefully constructed mask of sanity would splinter apart.

Because he could live with the humiliation of his captivity, he could slowly learn to deal with the memories of the rape and abuse, but he could never, ever forgive himself for having fallen in love with Chakotay unless the other man proved himself worthy of that love.

It didn't matter what Tuvok said about "Stockholm Syndrome". It was irrelevant whether the Captain believed his behavior was justified. The truth was that the only person whose opinion really mattered was his own. It was his own face he saw in the mirror each morning, his own conscience that kept him awake at night and his own cock that was hard and weeping every morning as he woke with Chakotay's name on his lips.

He hadn't pleaded for Chakotay to be allowed to stay on board because he loved him. He didn't want Chakotay to be his lover again because his body was crying out for the other man's touch.

It was far more basic and selfish than that.

Tom needed Chakotay to prove himself a good man after all, simply to prevent Tom's own self-disgust from tearing him apart.

~~~

"The Commander has left Mr. Paris's quarters," Tuvok confirmed.

Kathryn released the breath she had been holding since Tuvok had first commed her to say that Chakotay had entered the pilot's room.

"What about Tom?" she asked.

"He is following the Commander," Tuvok advised. "Their destination appears to be the Mess Hall."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Tell O'Halloran and Bennett to remain on stand-by, and meet me at the Mess Hall, Tuvok. I want to monitor the situation and I think that we need to talk."

"Indeed, Captain," Tuvok replied.

~~~

Tom froze as the door to the Mess opened and he was assailed by the loud raucous chatter of the crowded room. Most of Alpha Shift were still eating, and he saw numerous heads turn towards him, only to duck with embarrassment when he caught their staring eyes.

He flinched when Chakotay gently patted his elbow in encouragement and he was driven into the room by his need to avoid Chakotay's touch.

Chakotay led him to one of the few remaining vacant tables.

"Why don't you sit down, Tom, and let me fetch our meals?" Chakotay suggested mildly.

Tom's knees weakened and he collapsed into one of the chairs, as a wave of deja-vu crashed over him. This had been a bad idea, a really bad idea, he realized belatedly. The last time he had been in this room had been at the beginning of his alleged breakdown. Chakotay had fetched his meal then too, as part of his act to appear the concerned counselor. The scene was stunningly familiar. No-one was approaching their table, everyone was pretending that Tom was invisible, and Chakotay was pretending that he cared.

"I wanna get my own meal," he gasped angrily, determined not to allow Chakotay to make any more choices for him.

Chakotay simply shrugged.

"Sure, Tom. Whatever you want to do is fine," he said soothingly. He had wanted to spare Tom the trauma of standing in line at the galley, but if Tom felt that strongly about it he wasn't going to argue with him.

Tom started to rise but his legs betrayed him, their muscles turning to mush as he spotted Tuvok and the Captain joining the queue to be served. He bit his lip badly enough to draw blood.

"What do you want, Tom?" Chakotay asked kindly, quickly realizing that Tom had apparently changed his mind. "There's some kind of casserole, salad, something that looks suspiciously like pizza but probably has Leola lurking in the topping and a dessert that actually looks edible for a change."

Tom's mouth quirked at Chakotay's attempt at humor.

"Casserole and dessert, please," he requested quietly.

"I'll be right back," Chakotay promised and joined the line.

~~~

"What the hell are you doing, Tom?" Harry whispered, sliding into the chair next to Tom's and glancing suspiciously at Chakotay's retreating back.

"Well, jeez, Harry. I think I'm here to eat dinner," Tom snapped defensively.

"I mean with him!" Harry demanded. "Shit, Tom. It's one thing to pretend he never hurt you, but do you have to pretend he's your friend too? I don't understand how you can even share the same room with him, let alone eat with him."

"He isn't the same person, Harry. He was ill, now he's better," Tom argued, praying that it was true.

"B'Elanna told me what he did to you, Tom. I don't see how you can bear to have him anywhere near you. He's a sick fuck, Tom and if you can't see that, then maybe you need your own head examined," Harry spat.

Tom's already pasty expression whitened still further. Harry knew. B'Elanna knew. Hell maybe they all knew. No wonder no-one wanted to talk to him. Maybe the only person on board who didn't know the dirty cheap whore that he had become was Chakotay.

"I'm going to talk to the Captain," Harry announced, as Tom released a bitter laugh at the irony of the situation. "You obviously do need counseling Tom if you can't see how crazy it is for you to be doing this."

Tom's head finally jerked around to meet Harry's judgmental stare with blazing eyes.

"Yeah," he hissed. "As crazy as it would be for me to forgive you for turning your back on me just so you could steal my girlfriend, huh, Harry?"

"Shit, Tom. It wasn't like that," Harry replied desperately, his face flushing with shame.

"Oh yeah? Then how was it, Harry?" Tom challenged, his eyes filling with tears of betrayal.

"I - I- I - I'll talk to you later, Tom. Okay?" Harry pleaded, as Chakotay approached the table, his face darkening dangerously as he saw Tom's clenched fists and distressed face.

Tom just nodded dully. He hadn't wanted to argue with Harry anyway. He had just lashed out in panic when Harry had threatened to talk to the Captain.

"You alright, Tom?" Chakotay asked solicitously, placing the trays on the table and taking the seat opposite.

"Yeah," Tom mumbled.

"What were you and Harry arguing about?" Chakotay asked.

"B'Elanna," Tom lied.

A memory crashed into Chakotay's head with the force of a mallet. B'Elanna. B'Elanna and Tom. Tom and B'Elanna. Of course! That was why he hadn't ever asked Tom out on a date. Tom had been dating B'Elanna Torres. Only Harry Kim had evidently stolen her.

That explained something that had been niggling him for two weeks; Harry and B'Elanna's odd behavior towards himself. No wonder Harry and B'Elanna had been acting so coldly towards him. They obviously felt guilty about their actions and had assumed, correctly, that he would take Tom's side.

He carefully reached out and squeezed Tom's right hand in his own. The pilot flinched and pulled his hand rapidly away. Chakotay cursed himself for his stupidity. Of course Tom wouldn't appreciate anyone touching him physically, he reminded himself.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I shouldn't have done that," he whispered contritely.

Tom raised his head shyly and tried to smile.

"No. I'm sorry," he replied quietly. "I know you wouldn't hurt me."

Surprised by the generosity of Tom's words, Chakotay looked carefully at the younger man. His blue eyes were wide with fear and his voice had trembled as though he was struggling to believe his own words.

"Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate your trust and I swear that I will never abuse it," he promised.

Yet, strangely enough, rather than being reassured by his words, Tom flinched as though pained and quickly dropped his head towards his plate and began to eat.

~~~

"I don't understand what is going on in Tom's head, Tuvok. It just isn't natural in my opinion," Kathryn said quietly, glad that the positioning of her own table gave enough privacy from the rest of the room for her to talk frankly without the fear of being overheard.

"I agree that I find Mr. Paris's behavior improbable," Tuvok confirmed.

"As much as Chakotay's behavior seems to be impeccable, I don't trust him and I can't for the life of me understand how Tom can even try," Kathryn said. "Working with him on the bridge is one thing, socializing with him is a completely different matter. I really think you should mind-meld with him, Tuvok and find out what is going on in his head."

Tuvok stiffened.

"As I advised you, Captain. I agreed to the involuntary mind-meld with Chakotay because of his obviously criminal behavior. Mr. Paris is not a criminal. He has already been victimized, abused and raped. Performing a mind-meld with him against his wishes would be perceived by him as virtually another rape. It would make me no better than the Commander in his eyes."

Kathryn sighed.

"I know, Tuvok, which is why I haven't ordered you to do it. On the other hand, how can we sit by and let him hurt himself with this apparent obsession with Chakotay?" she asked.

"I believe that Mr. Paris's evident state of confusion requires further counseling, Captain, and I regret to admit that I am unable to perform the role adequately. Although I understand your reluctance to let anyone else know the circumstances of the abuse he suffered, I find myself inadequate as a counselor in this instance. His behavior is not logical, it is emotional."

"Tom has refused the Doctor as his counselor, Tuvok, and there is no-one else on board who can fulfill the role,"

"You could, Captain," Tuvok stated. "Mr. Paris trusts and respects you. Although I agreed with your original reasoning that it would be easier for him to confide in a male counselor, I believe at this stage that only a human counselor will be of true help."

"Very well," Kathryn agreed. "I will talk to him in the morning and see how he feels. I don't want to force him into anything, but I agree that we have to do something. It just isn't natural for him to sit quietly with Chakotay like that. Where is all his anger, Tuvok? I would feel happier if he would just finally explode and let it out!"

~~~

On the other side of the room, Tom's anger was finally preparing to make a guest appearance.

Slamming his fork down, Tom glared mulishly at his still half-full plate.

"Aren't you going to at least try to eat some of the vegetables," Chakotay asked in concern. Tom was so pale that Chakotay was positive he was suffering from anemia. The pilot looked virtually bloodless to him. He was going to talk to the Doctor about adding some nutritional supplements to Tom's medicine, but in the meantime, since vegetables were a rich form of iron, he would feel happier if Tom would at least try to eat them.

"I said I wanted casserole," Tom hissed. "Not half the hydroponics bay."

"It's just a few vegetables, Tom. I know you aren't eating properly. You look like hell, to be honest," Chakotay replied.

Tom's eyes flared. How dare he? How fucking dare he? He wanted to tell Chakotay to go to hell himself. For three months Chakotay had controlled every morsel of food that had crossed his lips. No way was he ever going to tell him what he could or couldn't eat again.

"I'm not eating them," he said firmly, then flinched in terror at the unfamiliar sound of his own voice raised in defiance.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that if don't eat all your dinner, you don't get any dessert?" Chakotay joked lightly, hoping to break the sudden tension.

To his surprise, Tom jerked to his feet so suddenly that his chair crashed to the floor behind him.

"Don't you fucking threaten ME," he screamed, the tears that he had managed to keep back earlier streaming down his furious face.

Chakotay spread his arms helplessly, his own face filled with confusion.

"Tom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

"You can't tell me what to do. You can't - I won't - I - I - I HATE YOU!" Tom howled before turning and fleeing the Mess.

In the sudden, embarrassed silence of the crowded room, Chakotay surged to his feet to follow, only to find Tuvok and the Captain blocking his path.

In his own guilty confusion, Chakotay was fortunately oblivious to the obvious suspicion in the Captain's furious face.

"I was just trying to make him eat his dinner, Kathryn," he explained helplessly.

"What did Mr. Paris mean by "you can't threaten me?"" Tuvok demanded.

Chakotay shrugged in bewilderment.

"I just joked that if he didn't eat his dinner, he couldn't have dessert," he replied. "It was a joke, that's all."

"Evidently Tom doesn't share your sense of humor," the Captain snapped angrily.

Chakotay flushed with remorse, and Kathryn forced herself to remember that he didn't know.

"I told you Tom was fragile," she said in a less condemning voice.

"He'll be more fragile if he doesn't start to eat properly," Chakotay argued. "He looks anemic."

"I suggest you leave Tom's future medical diagnosis to the Doctor, Chakotay," she replied curtly.

"I owe Tom an apology," Chakotay agreed.

Kathryn stiffened. Now that she understood why Tom had become so upset, she was actually glad it had happened. It was time that Tom started to see his captivity for what it had really been. His over-reaction to Chakotay's attempt to "bully" him was the most healthy reaction he had evidenced so far, in her opinion.

"I think you should leave him alone for now, Chakotay. It will do him good to have a good cry and get some of the rage out of his system," she advised.

Chakotay nodded reluctantly. He hated the idea of Tom being alone and upset, but he had already put his foot in it. Perhaps the Captain was right. He would apologize tomorrow.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I was trying to help Tom but all I did was upset him," he said bitterly.

"I'm sure you meant well," Kathryn said, with an obviously forced smile.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I should retire," Chakotay said stiffly. Perhaps he was still suffering from the blow to his head, he thought, because everyone's reactions to him seemed strange at the moment. To be truthful, he did feel a little off-color. He rubbed his temples tiredly, his head still pounding from Tom's screams of outrage.

"Of course, Chakotay. I'll see you in the morning," Kathryn replied in a kinder tone of voice as she noted the paleness of his face.

After he had left, she turned to the occupants of the Mess Hall and quietly announced, "If I hear any mention of what happened tonight, the culprits will be spending the next month cleaning the Jeffries tubes with their toothbrushes. Do I make myself clear?"

Hoping she could take the low murmurs of sheepish agreement at face value, she turned and left the mess hall herself.

She knew sleep would be a long time coming for her that night. Over and over her mind insisted on replaying the incident in the mess hall. Could she trust Chakotay? Was he really the innocent he appeared or was he just playing a clever game?

She decided that she needed Tom's interpretation of the incident to even begin to decide. What if Chakotay had been lying? What if Tom hadn't overreacted to an inappropriate joke? The fact that she had taken Chakotay's words at face value either suggested that she really was beginning to trust him at a subconscious level, or that she was even more of a fool than she had previously suspected.

Her thoughts disturbed her so much that she was tempted to go and visit Tom now and put her doubts to rest, but she decided it would be selfish on her part. Tom really did look pale, as Chakotay had said, and needed more sleep than he had evidently been getting recently. It would be a mistake to start their first counseling session at this time of the evening. He would be too tired and upset to respond to her.

That decided, she reached for a stack of unfinished reports and opened the first padd in an attempt to distract herself. She had barely read the second paragraph when her door chime sounded.

"Come in," she snapped.

Tuvok entered, his face carefully devoid of emotion.

"Captain, I have made a severe error of judgment," he confessed solemnly.

"What's happened?" she demanded.

After an uncharacteristic silence, Tuvok finally replied.

"There was an 'incident', Captain. Crewman Bennett advised me that contrary to our expectations, the Commander visited Mr. Paris in his quarters after he left the Mess. The monitoring devices alerted me to physical contact between them and I immediately transported myself and Crewman O'Halloran into the Lieutenant's quarters."

"Is Tom alright?" Kathryn demanded, cutting to the chase.

"Mr. Paris's injuries are not life-threatening, although he is remaining in sickbay for observation," Tuvok replied.

The padd in Kathryn's hand tumbled to the floor.

"Where's Chakotay?" she demanded.

"I placed him under arrest, Captain. He is in the brig."

"What the hell happened, Tuvok?" Kathryn demanded and listened in growing disbelief and alarm as the Vulcan explained.

"What the hell do I do now, Tuvok?" she demanded when he had finished.

"I sincerely regret the position I have placed you in, Captain," Tuvok replied quietly.

"Oh, shit," she cursed.

"Indeed," Tuvok agreed.

~~~

The Captain paused at the entrance to the brig, smoothed her uniform, pushed her hair behind her ears and straightened her shoulders as she forced her face to relax into an expression of innocent concern. She took a deep breath, straightened her tunic once more, then stepped forward to activate the automatic door.

Crewman O'Halloran shot to his feet at her entrance.

"At ease, Ronan," she said calmly. "Please release the Commander immediately."

She saw confusion and outrage race across O'Halloran's features at her order, and he set his mouth in a tight line of disapproval, yet to her relief he didn't argue her decision verbally. With well-trained obedience he deactivated the force-field that was trapping Chakotay in his cell, but he surreptitiously moved his right hand nearer the holster of his phaser, just in case.

"Are you alright, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked, as the Commander surged to his feet, his face dark with outrage.

Ignoring her question, Chakotay just demanded, "How's Tom?"

Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that Chakotay's first concern was for Tom seemed to confirm Tom's version of events. She had been surprised that Tuvok had taken Tom's confession at face value, yet the Doctor had reluctantly confirmed that Tom's injuries were only the latest in a series of self-mutilations.

"He's fine, Chakotay. Despite the amount of blood, the cuts were relatively superficial and at least we now know what he has been doing to himself, so we can begin to help him," she said sadly.

"But why did he do it?" Chakotay demanded.

"The doctor says that it was a perfectly natural response to his stress. He felt guilty and embarrassed about the way he acted in the Mess Hall and was in the process of 'punishing' himself for his loss of control, when you entered his quarters and caught him," Kathryn stated.

"It was natural for him to slice his arm open with a knife?" Chakotay demanded, in complete disbelief at the Captain's apparent calmness.

"The Doctor says that people who intentionally harm themselves are in fact very normal and sane people, who are in a lot of emotional pain. They self-injure as a way to cope, because they were never taught how to deal with intense feelings and emotions in healthy ways," Kathryn said.

Chakotay considered her words carefully.

"He cuts himself to only have to deal with the pain of his harmed flesh, rather then that of his burning soul," he eventually replied.

"Yes, it appears so," she confirmed, surprised at the depth of Chakotay's understanding.

Chakotay nodded sadly, his brown eyes filled with pity for the pilot, then as he finally accepted that Tom was alright, he finally allowed his personal wrath to bubble to the surface.

"So perhaps you would now like to explain exactly what the fuck I am doing in the brig, Kathryn," he snarled.

Kathryn gave thanks for her years of experience in controlling her facial expressions as she began her well-rehearsed lie.

"I cannot begin to apologize enough for Tuvok's actions, Chakotay. He is sincerely embarrassed and perturbed by his misunderstanding and has requested that he should be subject to a disciplinary hearing.

"However, since you were found in highly suspicious circumstances, it is not completely surprising that he misread the situation. You have to remember that he is a Vulcan, Chakotay and so we cannot expect him to react in the same way as you or I would. Tom was bleeding profusely, had evidence of a severe blow to his face and was in a state of near hysterical terror, and you were holding the knife," she reminded him.

"I had to strike him to take the knife off him. I had to prevent him from hurting himself any further. What did you expect me to do, Kathryn? Just let him continue mutilating himself?" Chakotay roared.

"Of course not, Chakotay. You did what was necessary. Although I would have preferred you not to punch him in the face, of course."

Chakotay's anger deflated like a pricked balloon, and his eyes misted a little.

"I know," he whispered. "I panicked. There was so much blood, and Tom was waving the knife around like a madman, threatening to actually slit his wrists if I interfered. All I could think of was saving his life. But I didn't punch him, I slapped him, that's all. I swear Kathryn. I didn't hit him."

Kathryn had known that. Tom had been sporting a clear hand-print on the side of his face, but she had needed to put Chakotay on the defensive to try and side-track his own fury at his arrest.

"Well," she soothed, "I'm sure it all happened very fast and you did the best that you could do under the circumstances. But, I am sure you can see how the situation looked to Tuvok."

Chakotay pondered her words.

"No, Kathryn. I can't. You are saying that Tuvok did the "logical" thing under the circumstances, but I disagree. I am the First Officer of this ship. Whatever the "apparent" situation, the logical response would have been to beam Tom to sickbay and then ask me to explain myself. Whatever the situation may have looked like, arresting a Senior Officer before the facts were investigated was a clear breach of protocol," he spat.

Kathryn sighed internally. She really hadn't wanted to proceed with step two of the plan if she could have avoided it, but Chakotay had immediately seen through her attempt to use Tuvok's alien nature as an excuse.

"I think I'm going to have to come clean, Chakotay and tell you the truth," she sighed.

~~~

"I guess I'm really fucked, huh?" Tom asked the Doctor bitterly.

"On the contrary, Mr. Paris, it is a great relief to us all that we have become fully aware of the depths of your inner turmoil. Your apparent acceptance of what had happened to you, and your valiant efforts to resume your former life, were laudable but unnatural. It was obvious that you were suppressing your emotions and refusing to deal with your experiences. Now that your private actions have come to light, I am in a better position to help you."

"Now I'm grounded and confined to Sickbay, you mean," Tom spat.

"You are neither grounded nor confined to Sickbay, Tom," the Doctor assured him gently.

"I'm not?" Tom demanded in surprise.

"Indeed you are not," the Doctor confirmed.

Tom raised confused eyes to the Doctor's face.

"But I'm mad, aren't I?" he asked in a small, hesitant voice.

"On the contrary, Tom, as I explained to the Captain, your actions have been perfectly sane. Foolish, admittedly, since you ignored my own efforts to help you, but still, you have done nothing wrong Tom."

"But I, I cut myself," Tom whispered, his face flushing with shame and his eyes flickering away from the Doctor's gaze as though he couldn't bear to see himself reflected in the Doctor's eyes.

"Superficial self-mutilation, such as cutting yourself, is like releasing a pressure-valve Tom. It isn't an act of insanity. It was your mind's way of trying to find a physical way of controlling your mental pain. If anything, it was your way of ensuring that you kept your sanity."

"I don't understand," Tom confessed, with a sob.

"You are obviously feeling a great deal of suppressed anger and high levels of self-directed hostility. Unable to handle these intense feelings, and unable to express your emotions verbally, you chose self-injury as a way for you to express your feelings and emotions. By causing yourself physical pain, you reduced your level of emotional and physiological pain to a bearable one," the Doctor explained.

"While your method of relieving your own stress was both barbaric and unhealthy, your urge to do it was natural. Severe abuse, particularly of a sexual nature, often leaves the victim feeling "dirty" and filled with guilt and self-loathing. Your own conflicted feelings about your body, resulted in you "punishing" it. Once you realize that your own feelings of guilt are groundless, you will be able to escape from the urge to punish yourself for something that, after all, was not your fault."

"Wasn't it?" Tom asked bitterly.

"Of course it wasn't," the Doctor said briskly.

"What about Chakotay?" Tom asked in sudden panic.

"Well, strictly speaking, it wasn't his fault either. The Cardassian pathogen caused so much damage to his brain that it is a miracle his psychosis remained fixated only on yourself," the Doctor replied.

"I know it wasn't his fault," Tom snapped impatiently. "I mean now. Did the Captain believe me? Is she going to let him out of the brig?"

"I believe so, Tom. It does however depend on whether she can adequately explain why he was arrested without telling him the true reason why Tuvok automatically assumed the worst."

"Oh fuck. It's all my fault," Tom whispered.

"It is not your fault," the Doctor repeated patiently.

"How the fuck do you know?" Tom screamed. "You don't know what I did. You don't know what happened!"

"Then why don't you tell me?" the Doctor suggested.

~~~

Chakotay collapsed back on the narrow bunk in his cell, his face draining of color.

"That's why you've been watching me all the time like I'm a rabid dog," he accused.

Kathryn flushed and nodded.

"And I suppose that's why you were so aggressive to me in the Mess, and why Tuvok simply beamed into Tom's quarters like that. You've been monitoring my comm. badge," he hissed.

"We were concerned, yes. It only seemed prudent under the circumstances," she confirmed.

"Of course," Chakotay agreed tiredly. "And it explains why you have been so reluctant to let me interact with Tom."

"He's very fragile at the moment, as you know. I couldn't take a chance with his safety," Kathryn said.

"So," Chakotay asked, after a painful silence. "How long before the Doctor is sure that I am fully cured?"

"Just another week or so. He says that if a traumatic brain injury like the one you suffered was going to cause you to have seizures, you probably would have already experienced one. Although it is difficult to be precise about these things."

"And he really thinks that I could be unwittingly violent if I had one of these "fits,"" Chakotay asked, appalled by the idea.

"It's possible, Chakotay. You are still suffering from gaps in your memory, aren't you?"

"Yes," Chakotay agreed.

"Well the Doctor says that your brain will attempt to by-pass those gaps, and in doing so, you could short-circuit, in effect."

"So I'm potentially dangerous?" Chakotay demanded, his face filled with horror.

Kathryn patted his shoulder.

"Of course not, Chakotay," she reassured him.

"That's obviously not what Tuvok thinks," Chakotay griped bitterly.

"It was a misunderstanding, that's all. I'm sure you can see that now."

Chakotay sighed.

"Yes, I can. I apologize for losing my temper with you. I can see Tuvok's point of view now, and since his primary concern was for Tom, I can hardly hold the situation against him, since I feel the same way."

"I've decided to ask Tom if he will accept me as his counselor," Kathryn told him, carefully gauging his reaction.

Chakotay smiled for the first time since she had entered the cell.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Kathryn. Tom's actions prove that he is not finding sufficient help from Tuvok's counseling, and it's becoming increasingly obvious to me why I shouldn't be interfering. Although I am sure that I am coping with the gaps in my memory, I seem to be showing a marked lack of judgment at the moment."

"Well, how about testing that judgment on the bridge, Commander? The ship doesn't run by herself," Kathryn said with an encouraging smile.

Chakotay smiled back and followed her out of the brig. He noted, however, that she made a concerted effort to walk next to him, rather than in front, as though she was reluctant to turn her back on him completely.

Dammit. Surely his head injury hadn't been that serious. Yet now he replayed his interaction with the Senior Staff over the last fortnight, he realized that they had all been slightly wary of him.

What if Kathryn was still hiding something from him. Maybe his head injury was incurable, fatal even. What if, rather than getting better, he was actually getting worse but no one wanted to tell him the bad news?

It was intolerable, he decided.

As soon as he found the opportunity, he was going to access his own medical files and find out exactly what it was that they were hiding from him.

~~~

"I don't think I can," Tom said apologetically, his voice little more than a whisper.

Kathryn took a much needed sip of her coffee and sighed. She had been meeting with Tom every morning for three weeks now and they were getting nowhere. It wasn't Tom's fault that he obviously didn't trust her. Trust couldn't be demanded, it could only be earned and she understood he might feel that she was the last person on this ship that he could depend on. Well, second-last, if you counted Chakotay.

Tom was having to report to sickbay three times a day, for the Doctor to check that he had stopped his self-abuse and to receive his medicine. They had decided that Tom couldn't be trusted to use his medications wisely himself, especially given the stronger drugs that were being used in an attempt to stabilize his depression.

Unfortunately, Tom had, quite understandably, seen their decision as proof that they didn't trust him and had become far less communicative as a result.

He was also obviously upset by Chakotay's decision to take over command of Beta shift so that his shifts did not coincide with Tom's. Chakotay's request to change shifts was based on his own fear that he might have a "fit" in front of the pilot and terrify him, and although Kathryn felt guilty about the fear she had seen in Chakotay's eyes when she had mentioned the possibility of the "fits", the alternative was far worse.

"This isn't a test, Tom. There aren't any right or wrong answers," she coaxed.

Tom's eyes flashed as he finally looked up at her.

"Yes there are," he accused bitterly.

Kathryn was relieved to finally see a spark of emotion in the pilot, rather than the dull, apologetic apathy that he usually demonstrated during her would-be counseling sessions.

"What do you mean?" she asked, careful to keep her voice to a pleasant tone of interest.

"You don't want to know what I feel. You just want me to say that I feel the way *you* want me to," Tom spat.

Her head jerked in surprise, and Tom flinched at her movement, his eyes suddenly panicked as though his own defiant words had terrified him. It was his fear, more than anything, that forced her to make a decision that she had been trying to avoid.

She would have to bring up the subject of Tom's fixation on Chakotay.

She had put the acknowledgement of her own suspicions off for too long, as though in refusing to say them aloud it would deny them any reality. Now she could see that her own concern for Tom was harming him.

By expressing her own horror at the idea that Tom might have romantic feelings about his former abuser, she had forced Tom into a position of having to either lie or stay silent, lest she over-react if he confessed what was becoming increasingly obvious to be true. She couldn't be his counselor *and* sit in judgment on his feelings. She had to allow him to express them, and then hope to God he changed his mind himself.

"You mean the fact that you fell in love with him?" She asked.

"Oh shit," Tom muttered and curled deeper into his chair as though he wanted to hide.

"You know how I feel about that, Tom. I haven't tried to hide it from you. That's not the point. My feelings, and my concern for you, are not the issue here. Your feelings are. I apologize if I have made you feel that you couldn't express those feelings in front of me.

"I'm not here to sit in judgment on you, or to tell you your feelings are invalid. I admit it worries me that you feel this way about him, but if you do, I want you to feel able to say so."

"You're not mad with me?" Tom asked, in a small, hesitant voice.

"Of course I'm not mad with you. Tuvok explained why its perfectly nat-"

"Tuvok doesn't know shit!" Tom yelled.

Kathryn blinked, reminded herself that she was here as a counselor, not a captain, and decided not to call Tom on his language.

"You sound angry with Tuvok, Tom," she said mildly.

Tom just bit his lower lip and looked away.

"You're angry with me too, aren't you?" she asked.

Tom pretended not to hear her. She took that as a yes.

"You're not angry with Chakotay though. That surprises me," she commented.

Tom's head jerked back in her direction.

"You don't know shit, either," he hissed.

Instead of feeling angry, Kathryn felt something akin to excitement. He was talking to her, finally opening up, and if he wanted to use her as a verbal punching bag, then so be it. She owed him at least that much for letting the whole situation happen in the first place.

"Then why don't you tell me?" she asked.

Tom hugged himself and dropped his eyes.

"I can't explain."

"Try."

"It won't make sense. You won't understand."

"Why don't you just tell me what you feel, and then we'll worry about trying to make sense of it afterwards," she suggested.

"You'll think I'm crazy," he whispered fearfully.

"No I won't. Try me," she urged and she made a surreptitious movement that allowed her to tap a pre-programmed button on her desk that would warn Tuvok not to let them be disturbed for anything less than a red-alert. She didn't want to run the risk of losing this opportunity to see into Tom's tortured soul.

"I can't pretend it never happened," Tom said abruptly.

"No one expects you to," Kathryn replied.

"Yes, you do. You want me to just put it behind me and pull myself together, like it never happened."

"We want you to be able to move on, certainly. No one thinks you'll ever forget what happened. We do obviously hope that you will eventually be able to put it behind you. "

"What if I don't want to?" Tom challenged.

"Don't want to what?"

"I don't want to put it behind me. I don't want to forget what happened. I just want to find a way to live with it. I don't want to keep pretending it didn't happen, I need to find a way to deal with the fact that it did."

Kathryn was confused. Surely that *was* what they all wanted for Tom.

"Tom, what Chakotay did to you, raping you -"

"HE NEVER FUCKING RAPED ME!" Tom screamed.

"Don't you see, Tom, that the fact you can say that, believe that even, is the problem?"

"You don't know shit," Tom repeated bitterly.

"I admit I've never been raped, Tom. I can't begin to imagine how that feels. I do know that it is common for a victim to deny that it happened to them."

"I'M NOT A FUCKING VICTIM!" Tom howled.

Something sparked in Kathryn's head and she finally thought she understood. It wasn't the physical abuse that was torturing Tom, it was the idea that he had been a victim. *That* was what he didn't want to face. That was why the vilification of Chakotay didn't help him.

"So it's a consent issue?" She asked softly.

Tom looked at her in complete surprise.

"If you tell yourself you love Chakotay, then what he did wasn't really against your consent, so you aren't a victim?"

Tom shook his head and actually chuckled.

"No, but it's a good try. I'm surprised you'd even look at it that way."

"I don't *agree* with the reasoning, but I would understand it," Kathryn replied.

"Fuck, I wish it was that simple," Tom muttered.

"So, tell me how it is," Kathryn suggested.

Tom surged to his feet and Kathryn feared that he was going to bolt from the room but, instead, he just began to pace up and down, as though he could only speak if he kept moving.

"I can't even think of words to describe what Chakotay did to me for those three months. I know I hated it. I was so scared and confused and I was in so much pain all the time that I couldn't think, and I never once, not *once* tried to escape. I just gave in. I just fucking gave in and *let* him do it to me. I thought you all knew. That you hated me enough to let him do it to me. I hated you. I hated everyone.

"I didn't have any hope. Do you understand that? If you all knew then there was nowhere to run to. No way of hiding. No way to escape him. The thought of trying to run and being caught and punished scared me more than staying with him. I was too fucking scared to even try.

"Do you know how much I hated myself when I realized you *didn't* know? That if I'd just had the balls to stand up to him in the beginning none of it would have happened at all?

"Then, somewhere along the way, I began to realize he was mad. Don't get me wrong, Captain. I still hated him. I didn't care if he *was* mad. Only I was *still* too scared of him to even try to escape. He hurt me so much if I defied him that I lost the ability to even defend myself.

"Do you know how hard that is to admit to myself, let alone to you? The fact that I was so fucking scared of him that I would kneel on his floor and piss myself rather than break "position". Do you know that I still can't walk into a bathroom and just take a piss without having a panic attack?

"I get up in the morning and if I didn't have a uniform to put on, I'd never manage to dress myself because just the thought of having to make a decision like what to wear makes me break into a cold sweat. I stand for hours in front of the replicator trying to decide what I want to eat, and my brain gets so foggy that, as often as not, I just give up because I can't decide.

"It wasn't just my pride he took, Captain. He stole my ability to even make a choice without worrying whether I am going to be punished. He ripped my balls off and I can't seem to find them again."

He stopped his wild pacing, leant his head against the wall so that his back was towards her and began to sob, his body shaking with such terrible tremors that Kathryn feared his legs would give way and he would slump to the floor.

She leapt to her feet and rushed around her desk to comfort him. She held him as he sobbed, her own tears streaming down her face as his words clawed gouges in her heart.

"Don't say that, Tom. You have more balls than the rest of this ship put together. No-one else would have done what you did, and let Chakotay stay on the ship."

"You don't know me. You don't know what I did," Tom sobbed bitterly. "Do you know *why* I found out he was mad? Because he broke me. You all think it's some stupid fucking denial on my part when I say he never raped me, but you're wrong. He never even fucked me until I begged him to."

"I don't understand," Kathryn said carefully.

"He used to beat me, okay? That's all. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't face it. I could hardly walk and he told me to go fetch the paddle again, and I knew he was going to beat me, and I, I couldn't. I just fucking couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't face another beating, so I begged him to fuck me instead. BEGGED HIM. I begged him like a fucking whore just because I was too much of a coward to take another beating. So don't tell me he RAPED me, because he didn't. I wanted him to fuck me."

Kathryn could barely breathe for the anger that was filling her as Tom 'confessed'. She had known the details of Tom's captivity but they had never hurt her so much as in this moment as Tom's own pain and misguided self-hatred proved to her that as bad as she had imagined it had been for Tom, the reality had obviously been far worse.

How anyone could do to another human being what Chakotay had done to Tom was beyond her ability to understand. He hadn't just abused Tom's body, he had evidently screwed with Tom's mind until the poor bastard had become a party to his own abuse.

Tom saw the fact that he had given in to the fear and pain and helplessness of his position as a sign of weakness. She, herself, saw his survival against all odds as being a sign of strength. Tom might *think* that the fact he had asked Chakotay to use him sexually rather than physically beat him was a form of consent, but he was wrong. Terribly, tragically wrong.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't rape, Tom. You admitted yourself that he held you against your will. I *know* he sexually molested you with the enemas and the, the other things, and he terrorized you until you had no other option except to give in. That wasn't consent, Tom. That was just you doing what you needed to do to survive," she assured him.

"Oh yeah?" Tom challenged bitterly. "So, tell me, *counselor*, if it wasn't rape, why did I enjoy it?"

Kathryn sighed. Tuvok had warned her of this possibility, that Tom's body had probably responded to the abuse which would obviously affect his ability to see himself as purely a victim of the abuse, rather than a participant in it.

"It is perfectly natural for a body to respond physically to sexual stimulation, even if it is under duress. Often the fear increases the physical reaction. It doesn't mean that the response is voluntary," she began.

Tom thrust himself out of her arms, turned to face her and started a slow sarcastic clapping.

"Which text book did that come out of?" he mocked bitterly.

Kathryn flushed.

"*That's* why none of you know shit, Captain. Because I've *been* raped, remember? Dalby proved your little theory to me enough times. Ayala once punched me in the ass so hard that my guts ended up wrapped around my lungs and I came as he did it. So I *know* the difference between a rape induced hard-on and the real thing.

"I'll tell you something, and maybe if nothing else, it will at least disgust you enough that you finally stop trying to fuck around in my head. When Chakotay thought I was Simon, when that poor mad bastard was fucking me and he *thought* I was the Simon he loved, instead of the Tom Paris he hated, I tried to pretend that I *was* Simon just so he'd keep loving me."

"That was just self-defense, Tom," Kathryn told him desperately.

"Maybe it was, at the time," Tom admitted with a shrug. "But now it's not, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't sleep. When I sleep I dream and it's the bad things, the terrible things. I dream that I am still his prisoner. That he's still mad. That I'll never escape. So I lie in bed all night, trying to stop myself from sleeping, and I don't think about the bad things, all I can think about is the way he used to look at me when he thought I was Simon. I want to see that look in his eyes when he looks at me, Tom Paris.

"If he looked at me that way, if he loved me, I'd be safe from the dreams. I'd know the *other* Chakotay had really gone, the Chakotay who hurt me. I need him to love me and then I'll know that I'm safe. I want him to love me, Captain, because he's the only person who can ever put this right. He's the only person who can save me. Why won't you let him love me? "

"Oh, God, Tom. If you could only hear yourself. You've just admitted that you have nightmares about him. You said he terrified you so much that you still can't handle basic everyday tasks like eating and dressing, and you want me to allow you to get involved with him again?"

"I KNEW you wouldn't understand," he hissed bitterly.

"Make me understand, Tom," Kathryn offered.

"Don't you see that if something *good* could come out of this, then I could learn in time to let go of the bad? I'm not pretending it will be easy. I admit that just being in the same room as him sometimes makes me want to throw up and run and hide. I *know* it sounds crazy to say I love him.

"But *he* didn't hurt me. *He* didn't do those things to me. I'm not in love with the sadistic bastard who kidnapped me, Captain. It's *not* Stockholm Syndrome. I fell in love with the Chakotay I saw behind the madness, behind the mask. I clung on to *that* Chakotay. It was those odd moments of lucidity behind his madness that kept *me* sane.

"And if my feelings were *wrong*, if the way I feel *now* is wrong, then I'm not a victim, Captain. I'm just a whore."

"Don't say that, Tom."

"Why not? It's true isn't it? Either I'm as mad as he was, or my feelings for him *are* valid, or I'm just a whore who sold my ass because I was too much of a coward to face any more pain."

Kathryn rubbed her face tiredly. She needed to talk to Tuvok and the Doctor about what Tom had said. She didn't have the necessary knowledge to deal with this much confusion in one tortured man.

"Let's leave it at this point today, Tom. We both need to think about what you have just said."

Tom just nodded fearfully, keeping his face firmly fixed on the floor, obviously too uncomfortable to look her in the eyes now he had confessed. Kathryn realized she couldn't just make no comment without him thinking that she was disgusted by what he had said.

"Nothing is black and white, Tom. You can't just say pick a choice; mad, right or whore and that is the end of the matter. It's not realistic. You are boxing yourself into a corner where you can only see one solution, and that solution is Chakotay. I don't accept that you need Chakotay to *save* you.

"I am not denying your feelings, Tom. Perhaps, when all of this is resolved, there will even come the day that I agree to you resuming a consensual relationship with Chakotay. Who knows? I am no longer going to close myself to the possibility. But that's all it is, Tom. A possibility. I warn you now, that it will take me a hell of a long time to accept it as a fact.

"In the meantime, I want you to promise me that you will make absolutely no attempt to socialize with him."

"But..."

"No buts, Tom. If you agree, and you continue our counseling sessions and cooperate with the Doctor, then, once you are off your medication and back on duty full-time, and I can see that you are looking after yourself properly, then if you want to discuss the idea with me again, I will listen."

"The Doctor said I'll need to take the medicine for months," Tom mumbled.

"Then, let's set a date for six months from now."

"Six months?" Tom protested.

Kathryn shrugged.

"If you *really* love him, Tom, you'll still love him in six months won't you? And if you don't love him enough to wait, then you don't love him, do you?"

"You just want me to change my mind," Tom muttered.

"Yes I do," Kathryn admitted. "I won't lie to you, Tom. I think you're wrong. I think your problem is your own self-image, and that's something you have to fix by yourself. You can't become a whole person by using *any* relationship as an emotional prop. The day you walk in here, with your head held high and confidence in your step, and still look me in the eye and say you want Chakotay, I will listen to you. It's up to you, Tom.

"I'm not arrogant enough to interfere in other people's romantic entanglements as long as I know that they are making their decision with lucidity and good judgment. In this case though, I don't believe you are capable of either of those things. Until you prove to me that you are, I will prevent you from forming a sexual relationship with *anyone* on this ship. You're too vulnerable Tom and just as I won't stand by and let anyone hurt you, I also will prevent you from hurting yourself. I won't let you try and use Chakotay to make yourself better. It's not fair on you and its not fair on him either. He can't save you, Tom, even if he wants to. The only person who can really save Tom Paris is Tom Paris."

"So we're back to "pull yourself together"," Tom answered sadly.

"I'm afraid so," Kathryn confirmed. "But you won't be alone, Tom. I'm here to help you, as are the Doctor and Tuvok and your friends. We all care about you deeply, Tom, and I promise you, that if, when this is all over, you still feel the same way about Chakotay, I will listen to you."

"Okay," Tom nodded reluctantly. "I'll try."

"I know you will," Kathryn agreed.

She waited until he left before summoning Tuvok and The Doctor to an emergency meeting in her ready room.

~~~

"There is a certain amount of rationality to his thoughts, Captain," Tuvok stated coolly. "In an ordinary situation, had the Commander been aware of what he was doing, I would concur with you that the idea of Tom ever forgiving his abuse would be unnatural and evidence of psychological trauma. Since the Commander was not responsible for his actions, and the likelihood of him returning to that pattern of behavior is negligible, it is not so surprising that Tom is open to the possibility of a future relationship with him.

"During my own counseling sessions with him, he admitted that he has always been physically attracted to the Commander before he was aware of the Commander's hand in the abuse he suffered from Dalby and Ayala, and that if he had been approached in normal manner the likelihood is that he would have agreed to a voluntary relationship with him."

Kathryn slammed her empty coffee cup down in temper.

"I don't care whether Tom and Chakotay might have had a hypothetical relationship if Chakotay hadn't been mad. The fact is that he was. Tom is so obviously wounded psychologically by his experiences that he isn't capable of making a decision that isn't affected by those experiences. Perhaps Tom only *thinks* he remembers being physically attracted to Chakotay before this happened. The fact is that he was dating B'Elanna Torres at the time. A woman. Which makes me highly doubtful of the validity of his desire now to embark on a relationship with a man."

"Many people have bi-sexual feelings, Captain," The Doctor interrupted. "The fact that Tom was romantically involved with a woman does not preclude the idea that he might have similar feelings towards a man. I am, however, as concerned as you are that he sees Chakotay as being the only person who can 'save' him from his own memories by replacing them with more acceptable ones."

"There is a certain logic to the idea, though," Tuvok stated.

"I can't believe you said that," Kathryn objected.

"Over the last five weeks, the Commander's behavior has been impeccable. Everything about his attitude suggest that it truly was the disease in his brain that caused his anomalous behavior. His decision to voluntarily remove himself from Mr. Paris's presence indicates that he feels care and respect towards him. There is a certain logic in the Commander becoming the cure to the harm he himself caused."

"I'm sorry, I can't accept it as a solution. As I told Tom, until such time as I am convinced that Tom is cured, I will not agree to him pursuing a relationship with Chakotay," Kathryn stated firmly.

"He won't ever be *cured*, Captain. It's not a disease. No-one can go through an experience like he has and simply shrug it off. He will learn to cope with his memories. He will eventually stop needing counseling and anti-depressive drugs. He will *appear* cured. That is all," The Doctor argued.

"I know," Kathryn agreed. "There will, however, come a point where he will have to be given control of his own life again. I will not perpetually treat him as an invalid. Once we are at least confident that he will no longer harm himself and he is coping with day to day life again, I will stop interfering. I believe that he will make the choice himself that he does not want Chakotay in his life."

"You will encourage him to make that choice," Tuvok concluded.

"Yes, Tuvok. I will," she admitted without shame.

"And if he still decides that he wishes to pursue a relationship, and if the Commander is also interested in him in that way, what will you do?"

"Then reluctantly, I will have to step aside and allow him to make his own mistake and if he is hurt in the process, I will have to add that guilt to the considerable burden I am already carrying over this situation. That's why I pray it never comes to that."

~~~

Chakotay rather enjoyed taking command of Beta shift. He didn't have to deal with Harry Kim's glowering sneers, Tuvok's habit of perpetually following him around the bridge with his eyes while pretending not to, or Kathryn's habit of perpetually second guessing his judgment calls.

He was also finding the relative quietness of the shift beneficial to helping him keep his reports up to date, the Mess Hall was usually quiet when he went to lunch and there was invariably a holodec free when he wanted to use one at shift end.

He didn't know how the various denizens of the Delta Quadrant understood that they only were allowed to attack the ship during Alpha shift, but somehow it seemed that nothing particularly interesting or dramatic ever happened on Beta and Gamma shifts, so he could concentrate on his own problems instead of being embroiled in the rest of the Universe's hang ups.

Problem. Not problems. Just problem singular.

Tom Paris.

Paris was haunting him. There was no other word to describe it. He was obsessed with the long-legged blond. Tom's face flashed constantly into his head, filling all the gaps in his memory with pictures of Tom's face.

He had told Kathryn that he wanted the shift change because he didn't want to run the risk of frightening the vulnerable pilot if he should suffer one of the fits that she had mentioned. It had been partially true, of course, but the real reason was that he couldn't bear to see Tom and not touch him.

He didn't mean sexually. He wasn't *that* insensitive a bastard that he would allow his personal attraction to be a factor. He just couldn't escape his memories of the moment when Tom had been swinging that knife in his quarters, with blood gushing from his forearm and he had had to slap Tom to get hold of the knife.

Even now, weeks later, the sound of his own palm connecting with Tom's cheek haunted his dreams. Although he knew he had possibly saved Tom's life with his action, the look of complete terror on Tom's face had been more than he could bear to remember.

The way that Tom's eyes had gone black and dull with shock and he had looked at Chakotay in that moment as though *he* was the most terrifying thing that Tom had ever seen.

Instead of fighting him, Tom had dropped the knife and had started to sink towards his knees in a motion of complete submission to whatever further violence Chakotay intended. Tom's terrified capitulation had shocked the Commander so much that he had barely remembered to grab hold of the knife and whisk it out of harm's way before Tuvok and O'Halloran had beamed into Tom's quarters.

It horrified him that Tom was so vulnerable, so broken, that he would respond to violence with submission. It haunted him even more than the thought that Tom had been harming himself.

What if someone really attacked Tom?

Tom obviously couldn't defend himself. Whatever those bastards had done to him had broken Tom so badly that he didn't even dare to fight back anymore. Chakotay couldn't even begin to imagine what it would take to make a brave man like Tom so defenseless, but he hoped Tom's rapists were dead and rotting in hell for what they had done.

Chakotay was consumed by the need to protect the pilot. He didn't want to spend even a moment apart from him and so, perversely, he was forcing himself not to go near him at all. He was too afraid of overwhelming Tom with his feelings of protectiveness, of frightening Tom with the depth of his concern.

He also wasn't prepared to go near Tom until he had gotten to the bottom of his own medical problem.

He knew now that Kathryn had lied to him about the extent of his injuries because he had tried to access his medical records and even his command codes would not let him in. There was no reason for denying him access unless there was something in them that he couldn't be allowed to see.

It pissed him that Kathryn should play God like this. If he was dying, and he couldn't imagine any other reason for the secrecy, she had a duty to tell him what was wrong so that he could make his peace with the Spirits and prepare himself.

He had decided against confronting her though, assuming that if he did so she might just bury the files in an even less accessible place.

Instead he was working on breaking the Doctor's security codes. They were good, but he was better. It would only be a matter of a few more days before he discovered what damage had occurred to him during the attempted mutiny.

If it turned out that his brain injury was fatal, then he would give up his daydreams about Tom Paris. Not fair to offer Tom his protection and then abandon him.

~~~

It wasn't fair, but it was no less than he had expected.

Tom had known the Captain would baulk at the idea of him wanting to see Chakotay.

But it had been two weeks since their discussion and he had really made an effort to "pull himself together". He was actually managing to man the helm until early-afternoon now before his exhaustion set in. Admittedly it was easier to do so now that Chakotay was no longer on the Bridge with him.

He wasn't pretending that Chakotay's presence didn't frighten him. His body couldn't help reacting that way. His head knew the difference though and he was sure that if he could just spend *more* time with the real Chakotay he knew he would be able to start reconciling his reactions, replacing his bad memories with good ones.

No one could possibly have told Chakotay to stay away from *him*, so Tom figured that if he went to see Chakotay himself, no one would know. Well, there was the possibility that Chakotay might mention it to the Captain, so he would have to come up with a plausible reason why Chakotay wouldn't, but that shouldn't be hard.

Chakotay, *this* Chakotay, wouldn't want to risk upsetting him, so as long as he said he wanted their meeting to be confidential, he couldn't see that Chakotay would feel the need to mention it.

Tom left the bridge at 1430, feeling both proud of himself for lasting that long, and yet guilty when Kathryn nodded her silent acceptance of his decision to leave. Having lasted *that* long, he could have seen it through to the end of shift, but he had decided that it was the best time to go to see Chakotay.

He couldn't face the idea of actually visiting Chakotay's quarters yet, just the thought of entering those rooms made bile leap into his throat. He knew that Chakotay liked to arrive at his office an hour or two before Beta shift started at 1600 though, and since no-one was walking about at this time in the afternoon, it was unlikely that anyone would see him take the detour on his way back to his own quarters.

His palms felt a little clammy, and his heart was racing as he approached Chakotay's office and saw the light on the entry console that indicated that Chakotay was inside and that he was available to visitors. It made it easier that he didn't have to announce his arrival, at least. He could just walk inside and pray that he didn't do anything so stupid as have a panic attack and run back out again.

He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, fixed an attempt at a smile on his face and walked towards the door. It whooshed open, revealing Chakotay seated at his desk, his dark head bowed over his computer console. The barrier of the desk between them gave Tom the courage to keep walking until he was inside.

Chakotay looked up, gave a start of surprise, and then a soft welcoming smile spread over his face when he identified his visitor.

"Hello Tom, come in, have a seat," he said gently.

Tom's face was pale, and the smile on his face was obviously forced beneath frightened blue eyes, but just the fact that he was there at all made Chakotay's heart leap. He hadn't seen Tom since the incident with the knife, and apart from Tom's obvious nervousness, he looked far better than Chakotay remembered.

The dark patches under his eyes had faded considerably, his skin was still a little pasty but no longer bloodless, and he had even put on a little much-needed weight.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as the silence continued.

Tom shuffled nervously in his seat. He was struggling to look Chakotay in the face, not because of fear, but because the softness of Chakotay's brown eyes was making him want to cry.

This *was* the real Chakotay. Damn the Captain and everyone else for telling him what he did or didn't need. What he needed was right in front of him now, smiling at him with a compassion and care that made his fear recede. As long as he was looking at that face, that expression, his memories had no power over him.

"I, um," Tom flushed and played nervously with his fingers. "I just missed you," he whispered, his voice so low that Chakotay barely heard the words.

He did hear them though and he felt something suspiciously like tears prickling the back of his eyes at Tom's hesitant words. He forced himself to stay calm, though, and not assume too much from Tom's decision to visit him.

"I missed you too, Tom," he replied. "I'm glad to see you looking a lot better, and the Captain tells me you are almost back to working full shifts."

"Yeah," Tom muttered.

"So *is* there something you want, or is this just a social call?" Chakotay asked softly, ensuring that his voice indicated that either reason was equally welcome.

Tom just shook his head. He could hardly admit that all he had wanted to do was see whether he could share a room with Chakotay without screaming. If he could do this everyday, just pop in on his way home, make a little small talk perhaps, then it would help, wouldn't it? He could take the vision of this smiling gentle Chakotay home with him to help ward off his nightmares.

"I just wanted to say hi," he whispered. "I have to go now."

Chakotay was disappointed as Tom rose to his feet and started to back awkwardly out of the room. He felt like he should somehow offer Tom more. Tom obviously needed *something* but Chakotay wasn't sure what and he instinctively knew that it would be wrong to press Tom for an answer.

"Thank you for coming, Tom. It was a pleasure to see you," he said sincerely.

"Can I come tomorrow?" Tom asked, looking nervously at his feet and flinching a little, just in case.

"You can come and see me anytime, Tom. Day or night," Chakotay assured him gently.

Tom flushed and nodded, then turned and fled out of the room.

~~~

On the bridge, Tuvok, who was not aware that Captain Janeway had expressly forbidden Tom to see Chakotay, ran the conversation he had just listened to over in his head.

The interaction between Tom and Chakotay had been innocuous. Chakotay had obviously made no effort to either physically or psychologically breach the gap between himself and the pilot, and whatever Tom's reasons had been for going to see the Commander, he had left safely and had indicated by his desire to return again that it had helped him in some fashion to see the Commander in that way.

Seeing no harm in what Tom had done, and realizing that it might even be what Tom needed to start coping with life on Voyager alongside his former abuser, Tuvok decided that there was no need to mention the incident in his security report.

~~~

For the next four days, Tom continued to visit Chakotay on his way home from shift.

Although he never stayed more than a few minutes, Chakotay found himself ensuring that he reached his office no later than 1200, in case Tom left the bridge early. He didn't want to run the risk that Tom would arrive and find that he was not there.

He didn't know what Tom wanted with these visits, but obviously the pilot was finding comfort in them, and every day he stayed just a little longer, and spoke a sentence or two more before bolting.

In some small way he knew that his presence alone was helping Tom deal with the demons that haunted him and he began to dare hope that maybe, one day, far in the future, there might be more between him and the beautiful young man.

It added to his determination to get to the bottom of his own personal mystery, the decoding of his own medical records. He used the extra few hours in his office each day, as he waited for Tom to arrive, in devising a way to break through the encryption of the file.

It was the fifth day when he finally succeeded.

Tom hadn't arrived yet, and it was gone 1530, which meant presumably that the pilot was actually finally going to achieve his goal of spending the whole shift at the helm.

Chakotay was so proud of him that he was going to suggest that they met during his own "lunch" break for a quick celebratory drink. It would have to be coffee, because Chakotay would be on duty and, besides, he didn't want to frighten Tom by suggesting anything that might be construed as a "date", but he thought that it would be a good change for Tom to come out of his quarters at 2000, even for a few minutes, instead of staying at home by himself as usual.

It was in this spirit of celebration that he finally struck the right key on his keyboard, and the details of his medical files scrolled down the screen of his console.

~~~

Tom whistled as he hurried along the corridor towards Chakotay's office. It was 1605 but he was confident that Chakotay would be waiting for him, otherwise he would surely have passed him by now, as the Commander headed for the Bridge that Tom had just vacated.

He had managed the whole shift. Not only that, but it hadn't even been an uneventful shift. Voyager had passed within range of an inhabited m-class planet and the inhabitants were both warp-capable and, after the usual careful hedging between the Captain and an alien vessel that had intercepted them, it turned out that the natives were hospitable.

Although they had not been invited to actually take shore-leave on the planet, the aliens had indicated a willingness to trade with them, at least, and so Tom had been so busy establishing a geosynchronous orbit that he had barely noticed the time, until Harrison had patted him on the shoulder to relieve him.

It hadn't just been the excitement of the encounter that had distracted him from his usual panic attacks though. He just felt good today, anyway.

That morning he had woken with a stiff dick. Nothing to put in his personal log, or announce on a ship-wide post, obviously, but he had rushed to the sickbay and told the Doctor about it regardless.

His relationship with the Doctor was becoming one of his most important crutches. Now that the Doc understood that Tom's sarcasm over the past few years had been a reaction to the fact that the Doctor had never mentioned all the "incidents" that had happened to Tom at the beginning of the journey, he was falling over his holographic feet to make friends with the pilot.

In turn, now that Tom understood that the Doctor hadn't even retained a memory of treating those injuries and had consequently misinterpreted the reason for his hostility, Tom was trying to treat the Doctor as he found him, much as he was trying to deal with the *real* Chakotay in the same way.

The Doctor was the only person with whom Tom felt able to discuss the physical effects of his captivity.

Since he had been rescued, Tom had been impotent.

It wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to discuss with his *counselor*. For one thing, she wasn't a man so she wouldn't understand, in Tom's opinion. Particularly since she was completely against the idea of him pursuing a sexual relationship anyway. Sex wasn't the point though. For as long as Tom could remember he had always woken in the mornings with an engorged cock.

It was natural.

It wasn't just the lack of involuntary arousals that worried him. He couldn't even masturbate. The fact was that even the touch of his own fingers on himself when he even tried to take a piss caused his dick to shrivel and try to bury itself back inside his body.

The Doctor seemed to understand that Tom felt alienated from his own body because of the way it betrayed him in this fashion. In the course of his numerous, necessary, rectal examinations of the pilot, the Doctor had discovered that Tom's body responded still to anal stimulation, and he had even gently suggested that Tom tried using his fingers in that fashion when he tried to masturbate.

For the last couple of days Tom had tried that as he returned to his quarters after leaving Chakotay's office. He had held the image of Chakotay's gentle smile in his mind's eye as he had lain on his bed and tried to comfort himself. It hadn't worked, but in a way it had helped, and although his cock had stayed limp, the relaxation of his body under his own massage had helped him to drift off to a relatively peaceful sleep.

He had still had the nightmare, of course. The one where he was lying on his back, with Chakotay kneeling between his thighs with the paddle in his right hand and his monstrous cock being stroked to hardness in his left, and Chakotay was laughing at him, saying "your choice." In the nightmare, Tom's own cock would be hard and weeping so that even in the midst of the terror and fear, there was excitement too, and need, and his horror of his own reaction would make him scream and awaken, to find that he had rolled out of his bed and was huddled on the floor, with his sleep pants often wet with urine rather than cum, and his cock would be trying to crawl up inside his stomach in shame.

But last night, the dream had changed. The scenario was the same, he was still helpless, Chakotay was still rearing over him, threatening him with his cock, but his right hand was empty, the paddle was gone, and instead of cruel laughter, Chakotay was saying "What can I do for you, Tom? How can I make you feel better?" and his eyes were soft, and his smile was gentle, and when Tom woke up he discovered that this time he was still in bed and that he was still hard.

He had almost run to the Sickbay to tell the Doctor what had happened, and although the Doctor had been concerned to realize that Tom's reaction seemed directly related to his clandestine visits to Chakotay's office, he couldn't deny that Tom was finally looking brighter and less haunted than he had for weeks.

Doctor/patient confidentiality meant that he did not discuss Tom's decision to meet with Chakotay with anyone, but in view of the monitor implanted in Chakotay, he knew that Tuvok must also be aware of the meetings and he took the Lieutenant Commander's silence on the matter to mean that the Vulcan also could see the improvement in Tom.

Tom was unaware, of course, that his actions and those of Chakotay were being monitored, so he had no inkling of Tuvok's silent support, but the Doctor's failure to betray his confidence had allowed a tiny kernel of trust to start growing inside him. The fact that the Doctor was not, after all, the heartless hologram that he had always thought him to be, only helped him to feel more confident that Chakotay was also, a changed character.

Just as the bad programming had been removed from the Doctor, so had the disease been eradicated from Chakotay, and his dream last night had proven to him, in his own mind at least, that the only way that his body would lose its fear of being touched would be if Chakotay was the one to prove that sex didn't have to be painful.

A logical side of Tom was also telling him that the longer he put off a physical reconciliation with the Commander, the harder it would be for all concerned. As the weeks passed, his anal muscles were slowly recovering from the months of enforced dilation. Although one part of him knew that it would be a long time before he would ever be able to trust Chakotay to touch him in that way, he also had another panicked voice in his head reminding him that the longer he put it off, the more it would inevitably hurt him when it happened.

He was also beginning to worry that Chakotay, *this* Chakotay would never agree to a physical relationship with him for that very fact. He could hardly tell the Commander that he was aware of the size of his appendage without giving something away. He had even considered the possibility of replicating himself a butt plug to keep himself stretched.

He had shied away from the thought in fear although, once the idea had occurred to him, he was constantly aware of the feeling of emptiness in his ass. He had become so familiar with the sensation of being filled in that way that it was almost uncomfortable and strange not to feel something inside himself.

The real reason he didn't do it though, was fear of the Doctor's reaction when he inevitably realized what Tom was doing. He didn't trust the Doctor *that* much. He knew he had considerable internal scarring and that the Doctor needed to be sure that he was healing. He had a strong feeling that the examinations were more frequent than actually necessary though, and that the Doctor was under the Captain's instructions to ensure that Tom couldn't break her order about sexual activity without it being immediately obvious.

He knew he was probably being paranoid, but even so, he was being careful. He didn't want to run the risk of being monitored more closely in case his visits to Chakotay were curtailed. In a strange way, they were becoming the high-point of his day. He couldn't wait to see Chakotay's face now that he had spent the whole shift on the Bridge.

He just knew that Chakotay would be proud of him. He could already see that soft, welcoming smile becoming a beam of happy admiration. Tom knew they wouldn't have time for more than a couple of words before Chakotay rushed to the Bridge to take over his shift, but he was going to try and suggest that they met later.

Tom knew his mouth might go dry and the words could stick in his throat before he managed to spit them out, but he was hoping that if he could at least start the suggestion, Chakotay might help him out and complete it. Somehow Chakotay seemed to understand what he wanted without him having to say the words. Which was just as well since he usually lost the ability to talk at all in Chakotay's presence.

There was no point in pretending that he didn't get scared. He did. He would open his mouth to speak, and then fear would take over that he might say the wrong thing and his words would cause that angry mask to descend over Chakotay's face once more, and then Mad Chak would be back.

Yet, he knew the fear for what it was, just fear, and his mind separated Chakotay from the person he now only allowed himself to think of as "Mad Chak" as though he had been a completely different person who just happened to look like the Commander. To tell the truth, they didn't even look that much alike anymore in Tom's head. Mad Chak had somehow been taller and wider. In his memories, Mad Chak had gargantuan proportions. He was a huge, vicious monster. The more Tom thought about it, the less he believed that Mad Chak had looked anything like Chakotay at all.

In this too, he knew that he was only fooling himself. That it was just a way for his mind to separate the bad memories from the good by putting all the bad away in a mythical box named Mad Chak and then burying it. It didn't matter though. He didn't care whether anyone thought that was a good or bad way to deal with his problem. The important thing was that it helped, really helped, to do it, and ultimately, it didn't matter whether he was doing the *right* thing. It only mattered if he did the right thing for himself.

It was the right thing for Chakotay too.

The last few days had given him enough clarity to think about a lot of things. Just the fact that he had finally managed to have some real sleep had helped him start putting things into perspective. Although the Cardassian drug had been the cause of Chakotay's madness, the Commander's *problem* was older than that. Chakotay's problem, to be brutally honest, was the fact that he had a dick the size of a horse's.

Nice in theory, practically damned useless in practice. Chakotay had, to be crude, an appendage that at first made you go green with envy and then, when practicality took over, you realized what a poor bastard he really was. Unless a guy was the kind of bottom who thought a fist in his ass was the height of sexual pleasure, he would take one look at Chakotay's dick and run a mile.

Or, like poor Simon, would find its caress to be fatal.

Which explained why gentle Chakotay was the loneliest guy in the universe.

When Tom looked at it from *that* perspective, he could almost find some sympathy for Mad Chak too, only he usually cut that line of thinking dead because he couldn't afford to go there if he wanted to hang on to his own sanity.

So the real problem was, that even if he could overcome his own fear, and even if the Captain allowed him to do it, *before* his ass tightened up too much again, he couldn't see Chakotay ever agreeing to fuck him anyway. Despite the fact that Tom was damned sure that Chakotay wanted him.

He wouldn't be able to tell Chakotay that he *knew* he could take Chakotay's cock *and* find immense pleasure in it. Because of the story Chakotay believed about the *rape*, he would probably point-blank refuse to ever touch Tom in that fashion.

But, on the other hand, a lot of this wasn't about sex anyway. What Tom really needed was Chakotay to love him. To touch him. To hold him. If that happened, eventually the rest would fall into place. The love would come first, and maybe one-day the rest would follow, and if it didn't, well, even so, just having Chakotay sleeping in his bed to ward away the specter of Mad Chak would maybe be enough.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hit the door of Chakotay's office before he even realized it didn't open for him. Rubbing his nose, and furtively looking over his shoulder in case anyone had seen his embarrassing faux pas, he pressed his hand to the entry panel. It remained dark and unresponsive.

He checked the time, realized it was almost 1615 and realized that somehow Chakotay had taken a different route to the Bridge.

He felt tears stinging his eyes. He had been sure that Chakotay would wait for him. Then he realized he was being stupid. Chakotay had a job to do. He couldn't just sit in his office and neglect his duties just in case Tom decided to saunter past, even if he wanted to.

Tom forced himself to straighten his shoulders and walk to his quarters.

This wasn't a rejection, he told himself firmly. It was just bad timing on his part.

~~~

At 2030, Tom flung his comm. badge across the room then proceeded to throw every other loose article in his quarters on top of it, in a fury of tears and temper.

He had been so sure that Chakotay would call him during his break.

Then he looked at the destruction of his living quarters and began to cry in earnest.

When he finally crawled into bed, so exhausted by his crying that he fell quickly into sleep, the nightmare came back.

This time it was different again. He was in Chakotay's office but instead of a welcoming smile, Chakotay greeted him with a feral sneer. No. It wasn't Chakotay. It wasn't Chakotay at all. It was Mad Chak.

"What do you want, Paris?" he demanded with a leer.

He opened his side drawer and started to empty it's contents onto his desk, one by one.

"This?" he purred, placing the paddle on the desk. "Or this? Or this?" and the paddle was joined by whips, and butt plugs, and chains and restraints until the desk was overflowing with objects of abuse and humiliation.

Tom tried to run but found that he was tied to the chair, and when he looked down, he was naked.

He started to sob in terror as Mad Chak rose from his chair and began to walk around his desk, slapping his left hand with the paddle in his right.

"You didn't come to see me today, Tommy."

"I did. I swear I did. You weren't there," Tom whimpered.

"You were LATE," Chakotay replied, smashing the paddle against the top of the desk with a resounding thud.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO," Tom howled in terror. "It's not you. You're not *him*. He's not *you*."

"Of course it's me. It was ALWAYS me, you stupid little fuck," Mad Chak grinned.

Tom's bladder cut loose and the spreading wetness of the warm liquid threw him out of his nightmare and into the dark, lonely humiliation of his quarters.

He spent the rest of the night huddled on his bathroom floor with the door firmly bolted from the inside. He was still there when the Doctor arrived in his quarters the next morning.

~~~

"Are you alright, Tom?" The Doctor asked as he pressed the hypospray against Tom's neck. Overnight, the dark circles had returned to Tom's eyes and he seemed jumpy and on edge.

"Yeah, I just had a bad dream," Tom whispered.

"The usual one?" The Doctor asked.

"Yeah," Tom lied.

"Perhaps we should increase your medication a little," The Doctor answered, adjusting the hypospray slightly and pressing it back against Tom's neck.

Tom didn't resist the additional anti-depressives, but he knew it wasn't a dose of chemicals that he needed.

"He wasn't there," he mumbled.

The Doctor turned away abruptly and started to pick up the broken pieces of the data padds that Tom had thrown against the wall the night before so that his back was towards the pilot before he replied, "He wasn't?" with a pretence of casualness.

"I left the bridge too late. I missed him and then I had a bad dream," Tom whispered.

"Well," the Doctor said briskly. "I think that it's probably been a bad idea you seeing him after all, then. You've been using the visits as an emotional prop and when that prop was taken away, you fell apart. I think that proves that the Captain was right, after all."

Tom looked up at him in disbelief.

"I thought you understood," he wailed. "I thought you were my friend."

"I'm your Doctor, Tom, as well as your friend. That's why I told the Captain what you did. She's very disappointed in you and as a consequence you are to be confined to quarters for 48 hours. That's why I am here. She doesn't want you to be left alone."

"YOU BASTARD!" Tom howled.

The Doctor shrugged.

It was only after Tom spun around, raced into his bedroom and flung himself onto his bed in tears, that the Doctor allowed his granite expression to soften into genuine remorse.

This deception was a bad idea.

The sedatives that he had just injected into Tom alongside his normal medicine would soon take effect and they would be far from V'xt'n space before he woke again.

He understood why the Captain wanted Tom kept out of the way, but he didn't appreciate being made the fall guy here. Not because of his own sorrow that Tom would hate him for his part in what was happening, but because he had, in one fell swoop, destroyed the tiny kernel of trust for him that had begun to gestate in Tom's heart.

On the other hand, the Captain was setting herself up for most of Tom's hatred.

When they were clear of V'xt'n space and Tom was told that the Captain had banished Chakotay from the ship just because Tom had been seeing him in secret, against her express orders, Tom would be inconsolable.

The only reason the Doctor had agreed to the deception was that the reality was far worse.

At least, this way, Tom would never have to be told that Chakotay had discovered the truth about what he had done.

~~~

The V'tx'n prime regarded the distraught alien with pity. Since his government had been at pains to explain their own attitude towards suicide before accepting his request to descend to the planet, he knew that this 'Chakotay' was serious in his intent. However, in view of his own personal beliefs in the sanctity of life, he felt it was incumbent on him to try to convince the alien to accept another option before his ship left V'tx'n space.

"Since, despite your knowledge of the events that occurred, you have no actual memories of your behavior during your illness, can you not find a way to reconcile the knowledge of what you did?" he asked gently.

Chakotay shuddered, but he knew he had to give the V'tx'n a response. He had already been through this with both Kathryn and Tuvok and had wrested their reluctant acceptance of his choice, so he knew that the V'tx'n, who unlike Tuvok and Kathryn had no reason to care for him at all, would accept his reasoning and allow him to die.

It would, of course, have been simpler to have merely put a phaser to his forehead, but the same beliefs that demanded his death also demanded the manner of it. There were rituals he must perform of cleansing and atonement before he offered himself to the judgment of the Spirits.

He understood that his decision to die on this Alien world was causing consternation to its inhabitants and he was truly sorrowful for the trouble that he was causing them. Performing the rituals on Voyager would have been far more difficult though, and at least this way Tom would never know the decision that he had made.

Chakotay could not even begin to understand what courage it had taken the pilot to allow him to stay on board, he was certainly not willing to throw Tom's attempt at mercy back in his face by publicly taking his life.

This way, at least, Tom Paris would believe that he was safe and alive somewhere. Why the pilot would even care about his livelihood was beyond Chakotay's understanding, but he had harmed him enough without blatantly refusing Tom's offer of forgiveness.

"It does not matter whether I remember what I did, or whether I was responsible for my actions at the time," he told the V'tx'n official. "It was these hands that struck the blows, this body that assaulted, this mouth that abused. This body I am imprisoned in is guilty of those crimes."

"Yet, surely, this pain is in your mind, and your mind is not guilty," the V'tx'n told him.

"Oh yes it is," Chakotay whispered.

Chakotay knew about the Cardassian pathogen. It was no excuse. It had, perhaps, caused parts of his mind that would otherwise have remained forever dormant to emerge and take control, but had those evil possibilities not lurked within his brain, then even the disease could not have brought them to life.

The pathogen had removed his conscience and morals, it had stripped him of the ability to have caring or guilt or remorse. It had allowed him to act in a way so immoral and cruel that it was beyond his comprehension to even visualize some of the things that he had apparently done. It had made him into a monster.

Yet, that monster was born of him.

He had not been possessed by an alien being who had used his body for its own nefarious purposes. The person who had abused Tom Paris was himself. A monstrous creature created out of the darkness that lurked inside his own soul. Born of fear and shame and frustration in the wake of his inadvertent murder of the Bajoran Simon.

The blood of an innocent near-child was on his hands, and then he had added to that burden of sin with an eight-year campaign of terror against Tom Paris, culminating in three months of such bizarre and inhuman cruelty that it was a miracle that Tom hadn't simply curled himself into a traumatized ball and refused to ever emerge again.

It didn't matter whether he would never have consciously chosen to do the terrible things that he did. That excuse was no more valid than if he had gotten himself drunk and then raped or attacked someone. If the capacity for the cruelty were not inside him, then he would not have been affected in that way by the Cardassian drug.

He said as much to the V'tx'n who argued the point, saying that *everyone* carried the capacity for evil as well as good.

"Surely your burden of guilt over this situation proves in itself that you are ultimately a good man, Chakotay. Even your own people found it impossible to pass judgment upon you. Look at how they tried to refuse your request to come here and die."

"They did not understand at first. They thought that my decision was based on the fact that I felt unable to live with the guilt of what I had done."

"It is not?" the V'tx'n asked.

"It is," Chakotay acknowledged. "It is more than that though. I am not such a coward that I would run from punishment. If I had been sentenced to a lifetime in the brig or to corporal punishment for my actions I would have accepted that punishment before this ritual. I would still have ultimately have performed it though. This is not about reparation for my crimes or even the fact that I cannot bear to live with the knowledge of what I have done. It is a spiritual necessity for me. I must release my spirit from this mortal body and face the judgment of the Great Spirit for my actions."

"I do not believe you, Chakotay," the V'tx'n Prime said mildly. "This is what you said to your crewmate Tuvok, because his people share this belief that ritual suicide is an honorable choice. This is what you said to your Captain because the laws of Starfleet itself prevent her from interfering in your spiritual beliefs. I know this because I spoke with them at length before agreeing that you might come down to our planet.

"Personally, I see only a man who wishes to run from the burden of his own pain and grief into the oblivion of death. Surely your responsibility was to your victim. Was not the bravery of Tom Paris in allowing you to stay aboard, worthy itself of you facing the burden of your own guilt? If he could forgive you, could you not in time have learned to forgive yourself?"

"I love him," Chakotay replied.

The V'tx'n Prime closed his eyes in sorrow. In those three words understanding lay. For an obviously honorable creature such as this alien was, the knowledge of what he had done would have been haunting and terrible whoever his victim had been, but to have done it to the person that he loved was beyond his ability to live with.

"I understand," he murmured. "It will be as you wish."

"Thank you," Chakotay said softly, and waited until the V'tx'n left his room before he allowed himself the indulgence of tears.

He could not remember any of the incidents that the medical file had suggested. At first his immediate reaction had been complete disbelief and he had accessed Tom's medical files to cross-reference. It had been the catalogue of Tom's injuries that had convinced him. Tom hadn't been subjected to a brutal rape as everyone had told him.

Tom's injuries went back years. Layer upon layer of scar-tissue hid year upon year of abuse from the first day that he himself had apparently arranged for Tom to be captured by Starfleet in the knowledge that all Maquis were automatically sent to the maximum security penitentiary in Auckland. He had read Tuvok's report on the mind-meld with himself and then had accessed the security records of Ayala, Dalby and Smith for the details of their confession.

He disregarded all mention of the way that they had apparently manipulated him towards mutiny. He was disinterested in that. He was interested only in discovering why a monster like himself was still walking freely around Voyager.

He discovered the details of his implant and the lesser monitoring device in Tom.

And then, finally, he had read Kathryn's confidential notes on her on-going counseling of Tom Paris. He read her horrified diatribe about the way that Tom had been so brainwashed by his abuse that Tom now thought Chakotay was the only person who could "cure" him.

It explained everything. Tom's terror of him. The way he had acted in the turbolift and the mess hall. The way Tom had sunk to his knees in abject submission when he had slapped him to get the knife. It even explained Tom's need to keep calling by his office everyday despite the fact that he was always white with terror as he came.

Just as Tom had been using the knife to punish himself for "allowing" the abuse, now Tom was using Chakotay as the knife to cut himself with. Daily he had been going to Chakotay's office with the express purpose of punishing himself with a dose of pure terror.

The realization had horrified him. The fact that he had borne feelings of sexual attraction for Tom during those visits horrified him even more.

What if subconsciously he had "wanted" to do it? There *had* been times in his life, during his long lonely years of enforced celibacy, that he had seen someone and had fantasized about them. Had even once or twice dreamt of *making* someone love him back.

He knew that everyone had the occasional fantasy that they were ashamed of, but he hadn't just fantasized, had he? He'd done it. He had kidnapped and raped and beaten and abused a man until the poor bastard apparently thought he had fallen in love with him.

Perhaps, one day, Chakotay might have learned to live with the guilt of what he physically had done to Tom Paris. He would never, in a million years, be able to live with the psychological damage he had caused him.

He deserved to die.

He deserved to be put down like the mad dog that he had behaved like.

But, more than that, he wanted to die.

The V'tx'n Prime was right.

This wasn't just a spiritual necessity for him, it was what he wanted too.

~~~

When a strange V'tx'n visited his room the next morning and told him that Voyager had now left V'tx'n space, Chakotay nodded his thanks.

He refused the V'tx'n's offer of food.

He explained that it was necessary for him to fast and cleanse himself for the ritual ahead and requested that he be allowed privacy to meditate and prepare himself to meet his Spirits.

With sadness, the V'tx'n agreed.

~~~

"Standing by is no better than murder, father," B'kn'd said, with passion.

The V'tx'n Prime, Q'sd'n shook his head wearily.

"Although it has been centuries since such a thing has happened upon our world, it is proscribed within our laws that suicide is legal."

"But the method he has chosen for his death is barbaric, father. Surely it is not necessary that he should suffer so badly in the leaving of his life," B'kn'd argued.

"The fasting and the knife are part of his beliefs, my son. It is not our place to question what he believes is necessary for his crossing over to the other side," Q'sd'n replied. "He is a man in torment. It is not for us to decide what can or cannot ease that pain. In allowing him to come to our planet, we agreed to his choice."

"But to stand aside and allow another creature to suffer like this is immoral."

"He will not suffer long. He has announced that after his third day of fasting he will take his life during the rising of the dawn."

"So soon?" B'kn'd asked

"Yes. By tomorrow his tortured soul will be at peace. I pray to whatever Gods he believes in, that in death he will find the absolution that he cannot find in life."

"I have read the details of his crimes, father. He was not responsible for what he did. Even his own victim absolved him. Why can he not accept that?"

"Because he loves the man that he abused. It is a pure love, the love of a good man, the kind of love that protects and nurtures and raises the loved one upon a pedestal. His love for this Tom Paris is as true as my love for you, my son, and just as I would cut my arm off before I ever raised it in violence to you, so he cannot bear to live within a body that has abused that which he loves."

"I still feel that there is *something* we should do to help him live rather than standing by an allowing him to die," B'kn'd argued.

"My son, there is nothing that we can do for him. Forcing him to live would be a cruelty. Particularly now that he is alone here on an Alien world. Perhaps this young man that he loves could have somehow convinced him to live, but he is gone and Chakotay is alone. It is, perhaps, an act of mercy to let him die."

*

"I don't believe you," Tom said desperately. "She wouldn't have left him behind. What about the Maquis? She needs him. She wouldn't have left him behind just because of me. Oh god. It's my fault, isn't it? It's all my fault. He's alone on an alien planet and it's my fault!"

"It wasn't your fault, Tom," the Doctor assured him. He had known this was a bad idea. Tom was far too fragile to deal with the burden of this kind of grief.

"Yes it is. You told me she left him because I'd been seeing him," Tom cried. "Oh, shit. What have I done?"

"You misunderstood me, Tom. I only meant that your seeing him was the reason the Captain *agreed* to let him go. Chakotay made the decision to leave himself," the Doctor answered quickly.

"That's not what you said," Tom denied angrily.

"Yes it is, Tom. You just don't remember clearly. It's your medicine probably, you know it sometimes makes you confused," the Doctor continued, praying that his ethical subroutines could cope with this much deception.

Tom chewed his lower lip and rubbed at his temples in confusion.

"I don't believe you," he muttered desperately. "I don't believe she'd have left him behind. This is just your way of trying to keep me away from him, isn't it?"

"Tom, I -"

"COMPUTER. LOCATION OF COMMANDER CHAKOTAY?" Tom screamed.

"Commander Chakotay is in his quarters," the computer answered pleasantly.

"LIAR!" Tom yelled at the Doctor in triumph.

"Tom, Chakotay's comm. badge is probably in his quarters. That's all. He's left the ship. He's not coming back."

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"

"Tom, please calm down. This isn't helping. You're going to hurt yourself if you don't stop throwing things around."

"I want to see Chakotay!" Tom demanded.

"I told you, he stayed on V'tx'n. He's not here," The Doctor replied, approaching Tom with a hypo hidden behind his back.

"LIAR! I want to see him NOW!"

"Tom, please, calm down. I will ask the Captain to -"

"I don't want the fucking Captain, I want Chakotay!"

The Doctor dived at Tom's neck with the hypospray, Tom twisted and swung his arm against the doctor's, causing the hypo to fly out of his hands and smash against the wall.

"Bastard!" he hissed.

Looking at Tom's wild, terrified but decidedly furious eyes, the Doctor made a decision.

"Okay, Tom. Let's go *see* Chakotay," he offered.

Tom narrowed his eyes in suspicion but followed the Doctor to the door and out into the corridor.

"Are you sure that you can cope with entering Chakotay's quarters?" the Doctor asked in sudden concern.

"I want to see him," Tom hissed back, although his face had turned white at the prospect of returning to the place of his incarceration.

At some level, he knew that Chakotay *must* have left the ship. No one would dare say he had if he hadn't unless they really wanted to drive him insane. Even so, he had to be sure, he had to *know*, before he could even begin to face what it would mean to himself that Chakotay was gone.

Chakotay's quarters were deserted. Chakotay's comm. badge was lying in the middle of his low coffee table.

Tom wasn't sure if it was the realization that Chakotay had really gone, or the fact that he was back in the quarters where he had been held captive, but suddenly he was overcome by such a sudden rush of nausea that he had to bolt for Chakotay's bathroom.

The Doctor listened to the sound of Tom retching and wished for a moment that he was not a hologram because he felt sick himself and he didn't know how the hell a hologram was supposed to deal with *that* feeling.

He comforted himself that at least Tom now seemed to have accepted the truth and decided to give Tom some privacy. He couldn't leave him alone, because of the Captain's orders, but he did not follow him into the bathroom.

Tom shakily pulled himself back to his feet and flushed the bowl. He rinsed his mouth under the tap but couldn't eradicate the bilious taste in his mouth so he opened Chakotay's bathroom cabinet in the hope that he might have left some toothpaste or something behind.

Then he just looked in the cabinet for a long time and thought.

The Doctor didn't hear Tom creep slowly out of the bathroom and into Chakotay's bedroom.

Tom quietly opened the wardrobe doors and looked inside.

~~~

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked, when Tom finally returned to the living room.

"He's really gone?" Tom asked calmly.

"Yes," the Doctor admitted.

"Can I trust you?" Tom asked seriously.

"Yes," the Doctor stated although had he been human he would have flushed in embarrassment.

"Then I want to know the truth," Tom said quietly.

"The truth?" The Doctor asked nervously.

"Tell me *why* he left. No bullshit, no lies, just the truth."

The Doctor's subroutines chased themselves in confusion between the Captain's orders and his responsibility to his patient. He knew that his lies to Tom had already caused harm, and a further lie at this point could destroy Tom's capacity to ever trust anyone again.

"He knows," the Doctor finally blurted. "He accessed his locked medical files."

He waited for Tom's panicked reaction. Instead the pilot simply nodded.

"Thank you for being honest," he said quietly. "I appreciate it."

And to the Doctor's surprise, Tom simply walked out of Chakotay's quarters and returned quietly to his own.

~~~

"He's alright about it?" Kathryn asked in surprise.

"I am as surprised as you are, Captain," the Doctor replied.

"Well, to tell the truth, right at the beginning, before we thought of the idea that you could remove Chakotay's memories, Tom accepted that there would be no way that Chakotay would be able to face him if he knew what he had done. So, I suppose it makes sense to him that Chakotay would chose to leave," she commented. " At least he doesn't know what Chakotay intends to do. Unless you found it ethically necessary to tell him *that* too?" she added nastily.

"If we had told him *everything* before the Commander left the ship, Tom might have been able to convince Chakotay *not* to kill himself," the Doctor snapped back.

"Oh God, don't you think I know that?" Kathryn replied. "Do you think it was an *easy* decision to make? Tuvok and I both pleaded with him for hours to change his mind. Tuvok even mind-melded with him, with his permission, so that we could be *sure* his decision wasn't somehow being influenced by his original illness. We did *everything* we could to change his mind."

"Not everything," the Doctor replied pointedly.

"No. I drew a line at using Tom Paris," Kathryn agreed. "Chakotay's mind was made up. He couldn't live with what he had done, and to be honest, if I were him, I would feel the same way. If I had involved Tom, it wouldn't have saved Chakotay, it would simply have destroyed Tom as well. This way, Tom will never know what really happened and he will put Chakotay behind him and will move on.

"I made a decision, a terrible decision, to allow one of my crew to take his own life. Don't imagine that is something I can live with easily, Doctor. Yet, my only alternative, given Chakotay's determination to die, would have been to put him in the brig and then convene a hearing for him to argue his right to commit suicide. Whether he won or lost that hearing, and the probability given the law is that he would have won, it would have destroyed Tom to witness it. Furthermore, if I had forced Chakotay to the necessity of a hearing, what he did to Tom would have become public knowledge.

"I had no other choice and I alone must live with what I did, and God help me for my decision."

No sooner had she uttered the words than the lights went out.

~~~

"We're dead in the water, Captain," Baytart told her glumly.

"The warp engine is on-line," B'Elanna argued. "We have full power to the shields and deflectors and life support is stable."

"However, the communications grid, navigation system, the lights and the sensor arrays are off-line," Tuvok stated.

"So we are completely blind," the Captain concluded.

"In more ways than one," Harry agreed as he stumbled over someone's legs in the near total darkness.

"What the hell has happened to the emergency lights?" Kathryn demanded.

"They are off line too," Tuvok stated unnecessarily.

"What is wrong with the computer?" Kathryn snapped.

"It's more a case of 'who' is wrong, Captain," Harry's muffled voice replied from under the console he was checking with a small pencil-light.

"Sabotage," Tuvok concurred from his own station.

"You're telling me that someone has deliberately crippled *my* ship?" Kathryn demanded in outrage.

"She's not crippled, Captain, just temporarily blind. We have full defense systems and safety critical functions. We just don't dare *move* until we know where we are going," Harry chirped.

"That is correct," Tuvok said as he made an adjustment that brought the Bridge's interior lights and a couple of the terminals back on.

B'Elanna checked something on one of the restored terminals and took a deep intake of breath.

"I'm going back to my Engines in case the stupid bastard did something to *them* that I don't know about yet," B'Elanna hissed, and marched off to the turbolift.

The doors didn't open.

"I'll kill him," she screamed as she headed for the Jeffries Tube instead.

"Kill who?" Baytart asked innocently.

Kathryn walked over to the screen that B'Elanna had been looking at. It showed the shuttle bay, from which the Delta Flyer was missing.

"Tom Paris," Kathryn said, in a surprisingly mild voice.

~~~

Q'sd'n turned to the angry general and said, "Let the alien craft land."

T'sd'r bristled with fury.

"The pilot has refused to answer our hails, Prime. For all we know the ship could be a weapon of mass destruction. The idea of dropping the defense grid and allowing it in, is irresponsible and dangerous."

"It is not a weapon," Q'sd'n replied mildly.

"Then why won't the pilot announce his intentions?" T'sd'r challenged.

"Because, I suspect, he is in too much of a hurry to stop and talk to your men, T'sd'r."

The V'tx'n general's eyes widened.

"You believe he is here to stop the *other*?"

"Yes, and perhaps, if we do not interfere, he may arrive in time."

"His ships markings and design are different than the mother ship," V'tx'n argued, though with less rancor.

"But his desperation is the same as the Chakotay's, is it not?"

"Entering our space like this *is* equally suicidal," the general snapped.

"Which is, I believe, my point," Q'sd'n replied mildly. "Open the defense grid on a narrow window to ensure that he lands in X'rn'dr. Erect a force shield around the craft, in case it *is* a weapon, and prepare my ground car so that I might meet this pilot when he disembarks. If he is who I believe he is, there is little time."

"Can you not prevent the other alien from harming himself until we know the truth of the matter? It would be a more prudent action to take."

The V'tx'n Prime sighed.

"I gave my word to the Chakotay that we would not interfere in his necessary rituals. His beliefs demand that his life is sacrificed in the early dawn. I cannot stop the sun from rising, T'sd'r and I cannot, will not, break my word of honor to a man of obvious honor. What is meant to be will come to pass."

"Then why are you allowing the craft to land?"

"Because we can always find room in our hearts for hope, T'sd'r. Over the last three days there have been great rumblings of discontent and sorrow over the alien's decision. In the few days he has been here we have seen him to be a gentle spirit in great torment. No one wishes to see his suffering prolonged, but we would all welcome an alternative to his suicide."

~~~

As the Delta Flyer came to rest on the ground and her engines died down to an eerie quiet, Tom finally dared to take a deep shuddering breath.

He had been sure that they would shoot him down from the sky for his failure to answer their demands for an explanation of his presence. He wasn't stupid. He knew that approaching a well defended alien planet unannounced was tantamount to asking for a missile across his bow. He hadn't deliberately been silent.

He simply had been unable to speak.

As the increasingly angry demands of the aliens had flooded the cockpit with words of aggression, Tom had felt the too familiar signs of an oncoming panic attack. It had been all that he could do to keep flying the ship without curling himself into a ball of shivering terror.

He had done the unforgivable. He had left Voyager crippled, had stolen a shuttle, had turned his back on the only people who had ever tried to stand between him and hurt, to try to save the life of the man who had been responsible for tearing his life and soul apart, and he didn't even know *why* he was doing it.

~~~

"Please," Tom begged.

Q'sd'n looked thoughtfully at the young man. He was quivering with tension, with the need to race and stop Chakotay's ceremony, but his fear was too palpable to be only fear of the dark man's death.

"Why do you care?" he demanded. "I know what this man did to you. I insisted on full disclosure before I allowed him to come here."

"I love him," Tom whispered.

Q'sd'n nodded. This was, indeed, the true tragedy.

"You fear him though," he stated firmly. "You cannot truly feel safe with him. You fear that the *other* still lurks beneath his outward appearance."

Tom bit his lower lip and looked away, unable to lie to this surprisingly kind alien.

"He needs to be punished for what he did," Q'sd'n stated.

"It wasn't his fault!" Tom protested.

"I did not say he deserved punishment. I said that he *needs* it. Your forgiveness, though meant kindly, is worse for him than the knowledge of what he has done."

"I know," Tom whispered. "But I *need* him. Doesn't that count? Doesn't that matter? If he dies, I may as well die too."

"He strikes me as a gentle man, who finds the burden of his guilt too heavy to bear. In your forgiveness of him, you inadvertently add to that burden and the weight is too much for him. He is a man of honor. His honor demands that he is punished and because of your refusal to punish him, he has been forced to seek the judgment of his gods instead."

"You're saying that it is my fault he wants to kill himself?" Tom sobbed.

"I am saying that you alone have a way of saving him," Q'sd'n replied. "But it will be a difficult path for you both and perhaps you have both already suffered too much to walk it."

"What can I do? Please, help me," Tom begged.

"Use his beliefs against him. Call on his honor. Withdraw your forgiveness. Demand reparation. Insist that he lives to suffer *your* punishment instead of seeking that of the next world."

"I can't hurt him," Tom sobbed. "I can't pretend to hate him for what he did. I don't. It wasn't him. It wasn't his fault."

"He does not believe that, Tom Paris. The dawn will break shortly and it will be over. If you wish to save him, you must, perhaps, be strong enough to hurt him. It is necessary to suture a wound before it can heal. He needs you to burn him with your fire if he is ever to heal."

"I don't have any fire," Tom whispered.

"You are here, are you not? You have *that* much love for him that you have fought your own fear to try and save him. Can you not find in yourself a little *more* courage now?"

~~~

"Tom?" Chakotay asked disbelievingly.

"Put the knife down, Chakotay," Tom replied, his calm voice belied by his pale face and terrified blue eyes.

For a moment, Chakotay was uncertain whether Tom was terrified that he would use the ceremonial blade on himself or whether he would use it on the pilot. He realized that he had instinctively spun so that the sharp metal was pointed in Tom's direction, and so he dropped the blade with a horrified moan.

As soon as it clattered to the floor, a shudder of relief ran through the pilot's body.

"What are you doing here?" Chakotay asked.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

"Why the hell do you care, Tom? Why the hell didn't you kill me yourself?" Chakotay screamed.

Tom crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

"Maybe I just want to watch you do it," he hissed.

Chakotay blinked in surprise but then he nodded. Tom was right. Maybe the pilot couldn't strike the blow, but he had every right to watch it. He reached for the knife again.

"Coward," Tom spat.

Chakotay looked up in disbelief. Tom was still keeping a safe distance between them but his face was screwed up in anger.

"It's the only way, Tom. The only way I can keep my honor."

"Screw your honor, you selfish bastard," Tom replied. "What am I supposed to do, huh? Am I supposed to kill myself too? Oh yeah, of course. I mean, shit, if honor demands your life for doing it to me, I guess if I had any honor I'd have killed myself for letting you do it. Is that what this is about? You proving that you're a better man than me after all? That you're braver than me? That you've got more fucking *honor* than me?"

"What I did to you, the things I did, I can't live with them, Tom. I, I can't be that person, I can't let that person live unpunished. Don't you understand that?" Chakotay begged.

"I'll tell you what I understand. You're running away. You're copping out. You're taking the easy way out and leaving ME to deal with your shit," Tom snarled.

"It's not like that, Tom. Please. You did nothing wrong. *I* am the guilty one. *I* deserve to die. I want you to forget about me, move on, try to get over what I did to you. Just turn around and walk away, Tom. Go back to Voyager, to people who love you and will protect you from bastards like me."

"They didn't do much of a job last time, did they?" Tom hissed.

"Just go, Tom. Please," Chakotay pleaded.

"Why the fuck should I? Do it, if you're going to do it. Let me watch. Let me see you do it so that I can spend the rest of my life knowing that even after you knew what you did to me, you still didn't give a fuck about me!"

"Spirits, that's not true. I love you, Tom," Chakotay cried.

Tom flinched as though he had been slapped.

"See," Chakotay said sadly. "It's better this way."

"Better for *you*, " Tom hissed. "What about me?"

"You move on."

"Move on? You don't know SHIT! Do you *know* what you did to me, Chakotay? Do you really know?"

"I don't remember, " Chakotay confessed. "But I read the files."

"Oh, you *read* the files," Tom spat. "You read a few pages on a viewscreen and so you *know*, do you? "

"No, I can't begin to pretend to *know*, Tom. I don't know the details, I can't even bear to think about what the details were."

"Shall I tell you how it was between us, *Commander*?"

"Please, Tom. Don't do this. I don't, I can't bear it."

"Tough shit, because I want to tell you, and you are going to listen. You owe me, Chakotay. You owe me more than your blood on a fucking knife. If you're going to kill yourself, at least fucking understand *why* you're doing it!"

Chakotay closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Tom was right. He owed Tom more than he could ever possibly pay. It Tom wanted to flay him with his accusations it was no less than he deserved, and maybe in some way it would help Tom to hurt him. He deserved Tom's anger, Tom's wrath. He couldn't deny Tom his need for vengeance.

Suddenly he saw his actions as cowardice, after all. He *had* been taking the easy way out. he had tried to deny Tom his pound of flesh. That was why Tom had come after him. Not to save his life, just to face his abuser and cut and tear him as he himself had been wounded.

"You kept me like an animal, Chakotay. No, worse than an animal. I wasn't your pet. I was your toy, your plaything. You kept me naked. I had to kneel in *position*. Do you know what that meant? DO YOU?" Tom screamed.

Chakotay shook his head helplessly.

"I had to kneel, all the time, with my knees apart so that you could see what was *yours*, with a nine-inch butt plug up my ass. You used to make me crawl on the floor. CRAWL, and then I had to suck you off, with that fucking plug in my ass driving me mad, until I couldn't stop myself getting hard too, and then you would make ME fetch a paddle and BEG you, fucking BEG YOU, to beat me until I came."

"Please, Tom, Don't," Chakotay pleaded.

"Then there was 'Boyz Night'. You don't remember that either, do you? When you and Ayala and Smitty and Dalby used to sit around drinking and playing poker and laughing at me as I hobbled around naked, with my ass so fucking bruised from the paddle that I could barely walk, but you made me serve you like a slave or suck you off in front of them so they could see how broken I was?

"But then again, they'd sampled the goods themselves, hadn't they? You'd let them have me enough times. Until you got possessive, of course, and decided that the only fun they could have with me was sticking the high-pressure maintenance hose up my ass to give me an enema.

"That was okay though, really. I mean it hurt like fuck, but at least it wasn't *me* doing it, was it? It wasn't until I learnt to be *good* that I really lost my pride. When you rewarded me for giving in by giving me my very own little enema kit and a butt plug that matched my eyes so I could do it to myself. You liked that, Chakotay. You liked knowing that I got myself ready for you. That I was so fucking scared of you that I would spend an hour in the bathroom with my own fingers up my ass, desperately trying to stretch myself so I could insert my own fucking sky blue butt plug.

"Did you read *that* in the medical files, Chakotay? Did you? "

"No," Chakotay gasped, tears of horrified shame rolling down his cheeks.

"Did it say how I used to scream when you fucked me because it hurt so much? And then it stopped hurting, and that was worse. I started *wanting* your cock in my ass. It was the only pleasure I had in a nightmare of pain. It used to feel so fucking *good* that I had to beg you to hurt me too just so I could remember that you were raping me.

"You used to call me 'Simon'. You loved Simon. If I pretended to be Simon you didn't rape me, you made love to me. Do you know how fucking much that hurt me? That you weren't *all* monster, that even mad you were capable of loving someone, cherishing someone, and I didn't want to be me anymore. I wanted to *be* Simon, so you'd stop hurting me. But when you touched me like that all I wanted was the pain back so I could remember that I was me again?"

"And then, it was over. I got rescued and you got thrown in the brig, and I was going to get my revenge on you, I was going to see you punished for what you did to me. Only you stole it from me. You were mad. You were ill. It wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"Shit, Tom. Don't say that, please. Don't ever think it was your fault."

"Why not? It was, wasn't it? The day you walked into the Sickbay and told me you'd ordered Dalby to rape me and I was yours now, to do what you wanted with, I could have said no. I could have gone to the Captain. I could have stopped it before it happened. You didn't kidnap me, Chakotay. I gave myself to you, I allowed it all to happen because I was too fucking scared to say no.

"Then, when it got worse, when you trapped me in your quarters, I never even tried to run away. Fuck, Chakotay. I just sabotaged Voyager to steal a shuttle and follow you here. Do you really think I wasn't capable of over-riding your door locks?"

"So why didn't you?" Chakotay begged.

"I don't know. I don't fucking KNOW. I keep telling myself I was too scared, too confused, too damned terrified of what you would do if you caught me. But, let's face it, you couldn't have done anything worse to me anyway, could you?"

"No," Chakotay whispered.

"You fucked my head, Chakotay. You fucked my head up so badly over eight years that I lost the ability to know who I was anymore. After Auckland, after what happened there, I lost my balls."

"What happened in Auckland, Tom?" Chakotay pleaded, needing to know now, needing the waves of pain and horror that were washing over him with Tom's bitter confession.

"Oh, you want *those* juicy details too, now? The fact that I turned up there and I apparently had a tattoo on my forehead saying 'Property of Chakotay, fuck at will?' You had a lot of friends there, didn't you? Lots of nice buddies willing to start the process of breaking me in.

"You know something, big guy? Something happens to you when you get stripped naked in the middle of a mess hall and the whole room take turns at your ass between courses while the guards pretend they can't see you screaming and begging for help. After that, you learn to wear a mask on your face just to be able to walk into a room full of faces, knowing they have all had you and will have you again.

"I was the Friday night mess entertainment in Auckland for nine months. I used to spend the rest of the week in the sickbay getting patched up for my next performance.

"Then, suddenly, I get this reprieve. Some Starfleet Captain arrives, like a hero, and offers me a vacation in the badlands. Not much chance of a sun-tan, but what the hell, it's a nice change from being a public utility fuck-toy, I figure.

"But, guess what? The Paris luck holds out. I end up in the Delta Quadrant with Ayala's arm up my ass. No change there, I figure. So the doctor puts my insides back together, and I wait for my next debut in the cargo bay, but, guess what? Nothing happens. I figure that they got a bit scared with how bad I got injured and they don't want the merchandise *too* badly damaged, so I wait, and I wait some more, and then slowly, as the weeks become months and the months become years, I start to believe its over, really over.

"I stop looking over my shoulder all the time. I start to let my mask slip, stop pretending that I am untouchable, I start to trust people, I even begin a real relationship with B'Elanna. I start to dream that the nightmare is over and that I can be a normal guy. I start to believe that I am safe. And then,"

"And then it started again," Chakotay whispered.

"Yeah," Tom laughed. "All those years of confidence were wiped out when Dalby threw me over his console and ripped my ass apart, and I found myself begging, fucking BEGGING him to keep doing it to me."

"What?"

"Oh, wasn't *that* in the report, Commander? Didn't it tell you what a whore I am? I'm just a slut, that's all. *That's* what Auckland taught me. That I *like* it rough, or should I say my body is so fucked up that it *thinks* I do? But, of course, Simon liked it rough, so you had to make me react the same way, didn't you? I got well and truly trained by the Chakotay School of Rape Appreciation and graduated with honors, top of the class.

"You fucked me up, Chakotay. It's up to you to put it right again."

"What the hell can I do?" Chakotay asked helplessly.

"You made me into *your* toy, Chakotay, so its too fucking late to say you don't want to play with me anymore."

"You *want* me to touch you again?" Chakotay asked in horrified disbelief. "You tell me all those things and think that I could ever lay a finger on you again? Can't you see I'd rather die than hurt you or anyone ever again? I don't want to *play* with you, Tom and the fact that you want me to only proves how badly I have damaged you. I don't want to be responsible for any more of your pain."

"I don't give a shit what you *want*," Tom howled. "This isn't about *you* anymore. You gave that right up when you decided to kill yourself. Fine. So you want to die? Well I don't give a shit what you want. I don't care. You owe me, Chakotay. Your life is MINE. You want to suffer for what you did? Then suffer. Wallow in your self-pity. Drown in it, if you like. But it's going to be on MY terms, not yours. You owe me, and I'm calling in my markers. You don't get away that easy. I'm not letting you off the hook like this. If you have any *honor* then you will live and face up to what you did to me."

"I can't," Chakotay begged. "Please, Tom. Don't do this to me. Don't do it to yourself. What's happened can never be put right. Nothing I can do will ever make anything better. I can't live knowing what I did, knowing what you suffered because of me, and knowing that I can never put anything right again."

"You can, Chakotay, and you will. You will because your fucking *honor* will make you live, and if it hurts and it is unbearable, then tough shit, join the club, because *I* intend to live, and I need you."

"You don't need me, Tom," Chakotay assured him.

"Don't fucking tell me what I need, you bastard. For three months you told me what I needed. You told me when to eat and piss and shit. Don't you EVER dare to tell me again what I do or do not need."

"I'm sorry," Chakotay mumbled.

"You will be," Tom snarled.

He saw something jump then in Chakotay's eyes, and it wasn't fear or guilt, it was hope, and Tom realized that Q'sd'n was right. The idea of punishment in this life was the only thing that would stop Chakotay from seeking it in the next.

"What do you want of me, Tom?" Chakotay asked brokenly.

"Eight years," Tom replied.

"What?" Chakotay demanded in disbelief.

"You took eight years of my life and turned them into a living hell, Chakotay. So that's what I want. Eight years of your life. Then, if you still want to kill yourself, I'll give you the knife myself," Tom replied with a cold smile.

"Eight years of what?"

"Eight years of you being mine, Chakotay. In any fucking way I say you are. You will belong to me. If I want to beat you, you let me. If I want to give your ass away in the mess hall you'll say "yes, sir" and if I want you to spend those eight years kneeling in position in *my* fucking quarters, Chakotay, you'll do it. You owe me, you bastard, and you are going to pay. Do you understand?"

"Is this really what you need, Tom? To hurt me like I hurt you? To do to me what I did to you? Is that what you need? Vengeance?"

"And if I do?" Tom demanded.

Chakotay bent his head in defeat.

"Then I'll agree," he said brokenly. "You're right. I deserve to suffer and if it helps you, then that makes it right."

"So you won't kill yourself? Your life is mine? I can do anything that I want with you?" Tom demanded.

"Yes. For eight years, I'll be yours," Chakotay agreed, his head bowed in shame. "I deserve no more."

Tom turned away to hide his tears. It was unbearable to see Chakotay broken like this. He didn't want Chakotay's grief and guilt. He didn't want to inflict pain on this gentle, broken man. He wanted to see those brown eyes sparkle with love, not defeat. He wanted Chakotay as his lover, not his slave. He could no more raise his hand against this man than he could face the idea of suffering more pain himself. It hurt him that Chakotay would even believe him capable of exacting vengeance in this way.

But if the alternative was Chakotay's corpse lying under an alien sky, he would take what he had and work with it.

This way, at least, Chakotay would have to live.

Somehow, he would find a way to mend both of their shattered souls. God, surely in eight years they could find a way to trust and love each other. He had bought some time, at least, and that was a start.

After the stunt he had pulled to steal the Delta Flyer, he might spend the next several months in the brig, but at least he knew that Chakotay had given his word that he would not take his life during Tom's incarceration.

Then, maybe, they could start the slow process of healing.

~~~

Chakotay sank down and huddled in misery on the floor outside of Tom's bathroom. He had given his word that he would stay alive, that he would give Tom his 'vengeance'. He had even begged the Captain to allow it against her own better judgment, yet now, he bitterly regretted his choice.

He should have killed himself.

As far as he could see, Tom wasn't getting better, he was getting worse.

For the last two weeks since they had returned to Voyager and had both been greeted with remarkably little rancor by the Captain considering Tom's sabotage of the ship, Chakotay had tried to give Tom what he wanted. He had listened in acceptance to Tom's list of 'rules'.

That their 'arrangement' remained secret except for the Captain, Tuvok and the Doctor. That Chakotay resumed his role as Commander and stayed on Beta shift so that he and Tom would not interact on duty. That at shift end each night he would go to Tom's quarters and sleep on the floor in the corner of Tom's bedroom. That he would rise with Tom in the mornings and prepare his breakfast and then return to 'bed'. Then after Tom had left for work, Chakotay would clean and tidy Tom's quarters and then attend his own shift.

In itself, apart from the discomfort of the floor, Tom asked nothing more of him. They did not speak. Tom did not strike him with words or with fists. Tom simply ignored his existence. Because of the difference in their shifts, it had not been immediately apparent to him. Tom was in bed when he got 'home' and he himself was still half-asleep when Tom rose in the morning. Their failure to speak to each other was no more than that for the first four days.

It had been on Sunday, when their day off coincided that Chakotay first had a true inkling that what he thought he had agreed to, was not what was truly happening. He had been looking forward to the day off with a strange mix of dread and anticipation. Finally, Tom would have time and leisure to "punish" him. He did not know what it would entail, hence the dread, but he welcomed it regardless.

Instead, Tom had spent most of the day curled up in a chair, pretending to read and looking like the proverbial white rabbit as he quivered from head to toe every time that Chakotay had moved.

Chakotay had risen first and put Tom's breakfast on the table, then had waited while Tom pushed the food listlessly around his plate.

"What do you want me to do?" he had asked.

Tom's eyes had flashed.

"Did I say you could speak?" he had demanded.

Chakotay had shaken his head in apology.

Tom had then made Chakotay kneel 'in position' all day, but he had reacted with near hysterics when Chakotay had begun to strip, assuming that was what Tom had wanted, and so the whole day had been spent with him simply kneeling, fully clothed, in the corner of Tom's room, while Tom had sat in terrified silence on the other side of the room, trying to pretend he wasn't there and jumping in terror every time that cramp forced Chakotay to adjust his position slightly.

Worse than that, though, were the nights.

Tom had nightmares every night, terrible horrific nightmares in which he would scream and beg someone not to hurt him, and Chakotay would lie on the floor, listening to Tom's pleas and would cry as he understood that the person in Tom's nightmares was himself.

If, like now, he rose and tried to ease the terror of Tom's dreams, the pilot would wake and bolt in terror into his bathroom, where he would spend the rest of the night with the safety of a locked door between himself and the object of his terror.

Witnessing Tom's pain was worse than any physical punishment that could have been given him, and sometimes he wondered whether Tom knew that and merely wished him to share an understanding of what he had done. That in itself would be bearable. If the next eight years were just a nightmare of being forced firsthand to witness the destruction that he had wrought in the pilot, then it was no more than he deserved.

What was truly unbearable was the realization that his presence here was not helping Tom, it was only adding to his fear.

~~~

"I can't do it, Captain," Tom said miserably, as he sat in the briefing room after the rest of the senior staff had left.

"I warned you it wouldn't be easy," she replied mildly.

She had, to be honest, said a great deal of unsupportive things when Tom had arrived back on Voyager and had outlined his proposal for dealing with Chakotay. Yet the fact that Tom had managed to retrieve Chakotay in one piece, with an alleged agreement that he would not seek to harm himself for eight years, was so much more than she could have hoped for that she had felt unable to completely disregard Tom's idea.

Tom was still far from well, but the fact that he had acted as he did to save Chakotay's life had caused her to re-evaluate him. She had, of course, removed his holodec privileges for the next three months as a "punishment" for stealing the Delta Flyer, but it was merely a gesture of disapproval and he had understood that.

Where she had baulked was at Tom's insistence that Chakotay's monitoring device was removed and that he should move into Tom's quarters. She understood completely that Tom had no intention of abusing his new-found power over the Commander. It wasn't Chakotay's safety she was concerned with. It was Tom's.

"It's supposed to be payback," he had told her. "So he has to stay with me like I did with him or he won't believe me."

The idea of Chakotay sleeping on Tom's floor had disturbed her initially because of the perceived embarrassment of the situation for the Commander. Now she saw that it was damaging Tom too.

"I can't sleep, Captain. Knowing he's there in the room. I keep dreaming that he attacks me as I sleep and when I have the nightmare and he tries to wake me up, I panic and run into the bathroom. If I send him back to his own quarters now he'll know I never meant it when I said I wanted to punish him."

Kathryn thought about what he was saying and her mind supplied a solution so unthinkable that she bit her own lip in shock. Then she decided, what the hell? She had already proven her own inability to deal with this situation by abandoning Chakotay to his suicide attempt in the first place. Time and time again, Tom's bravery in this situation was astounding her. Tom had told her what the V'tx'n Prime had said, and as much as she had wanted to argue the point, she truly believed that he was right. Tom's solution might not be the most ethical idea she had ever come across, but the alternative, Chakotay's suicide, was far worse.

"I think you should restrain him," she blurted.

"What?" Tom asked in complete shock.

Kathryn flushed, but continued.

"You told me he did that to you sometimes, chained you up," she said.

"Yeah," Tom agreed miserably.

"So if you chained him, at night, he would feel punished and you would feel safe, wouldn't you?"

"I can't do that to him," Tom sobbed.

"I think you are going to have to, Tom, or give this up. I understand that you don't want to physically hurt him, and god forbid that I should let you if you did, but a little humiliation is probably just what he wants, and it will have the added bonus of making you feel safer."

"You really think it would be okay?" Tom whispered.

"I don't think it's "okay" at all, Tom, but I don't see another alternative, to be honest."

~~~

When Chakotay returned to Tom's quarters after shift, he found, curled next to his blanket a short chain attached on one end to the door jamb and with a collar on the other.

"Tom?" he asked in query, his eyes a little frightened.

"I'm sick of you sneaking around my bedroom at night," Tom spat from the safety of his bed.

Chakotay's heart sank as he remembered Tom's terror of the night before. No wonder the poor bastard wanted him restrained instead of having to lock himself into the bathroom to feel safe. He locked the collar around his neck without complaint and curled in misery into his thin blanket.

At least, that night, Tom seemed to sleep better and although the collar bit into his neck and increased the already severe discomfort of the hard floor, for the first time in weeks, Chakotay felt a little better.

~~~

"You're obviously sleeping a little better," the Doctor said, as he gave Tom his daily check up.

Tom flushed.

"Now I feel safer, the nightmares aren't so bad, and although it sounds weird, having him there, in my room, makes me feel better. I just wish he wasn't on the floor."

"Surely you would feel equally unsafe if he were in your bed," the Doctor pointed out mildly.

"Yeah, I guess," Tom admitted. "But it's just I *remember* how cold and uncomfortable it is on a floor. It hurts me to think of him there."

"The pain and discomfort probably bring him some form of comfort, Tom," the Doctor argued.

"I know," Tom sighed.

"What about yourself, Tom? Are you having any progress with your attempts to masturbate?"

Tom flushed. No matter how many times this subject came up, or how naturally the Doctor discussed it, he found the subject humiliating to discuss.

"No," he finally admitted.

"And you haven't had another involuntary arousal, either?" the Doctor asked.

"No," Tom confessed. "Sometimes, when I'm lying there in bed, if I wake early and I can hear him sleeping, I try and touch myself. I get the desire but nothing happens."

"Perhaps you are inhibited by his presence," the Doctor suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Tom agreed listlessly.

"Confidentially, Tom, as your Doctor, may I ask why you have not touched Chakotay?"

"What?"

"It is my understanding that Chakotay believes that he is your property, is that not so?"

"Yes," Tom admitted, blushing.

"So he would behave exactly as you asked him to in a sexual encounter. But you still do not feel physically safe enough to encourage sexual relations with him?"

"Jesus, Doc. I'm not a monster. Using him like that would make me no better than Mad Chak, would it?"

"You love each other, Tom. It's different. You both want each other, but you need to feel safe, and he has to feel guiltless. It seems to me that if you 'ordered' him to make love to you, you would both be able to have what you want."

"Yeah, well, all I can say to that is no matter how advanced you are, Doc, you're still a hologram," Tom spat. "You have NO idea of morals, do you?"

"Oh, is that the word, Tom? Morals? Well if they let two wounded people stay unhappy, perhaps I would rather not have them," the Doctor sniffed.

~~~

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Tom howled, his face flushing dark red.

Chakotay's own face deepened and he averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. He had returned earlier than expected from Beta Shift because there was a new Bridge crew starting on Gamma Shift that night and Lieutenant Wildman had arrived an hour early so that she could settle herself before her new team arrived.

Assuming Tom would be asleep already, Chakotay had crept quietly into the bedroom so as not to disturb him, and had found the pilot sitting on the edge of his bed, naked, with his cock in his hands.

Even more embarrassing for Tom, it had been immediately apparent to Chakotay that his body was not co-operating.

"Sorry," Tom repeated bitterly. "Sorry. Yeah that really cuts it, doesn't it?"

Assuming Tom was referring still to his unannounced entry, Chakotay began to reply, "I didn't mean to -"

He was interrupted by Tom's near hysterical laugh.

"Didn't mean to what, Chakotay? You didn't mean to do this to me? Do you think that helps? Do you imagine it makes me feel better, knowing that, when I can't, can't, oh fuck it," Tom finished. "What the hell do you care?"

Chakotay swayed as he understood what Tom was trying to say. Tom was impotent. Not satisfied with screwing up Tom's mind, he had screwed his body up too so that he couldn't even pleasure himself.

"I'm sorry," he repeated helplessly.

Tom looked at him in fury. What the fuck use were words like sorry, anyway? And yet, there was no mistaking the genuine anguish in Chakotay's face, either. The Doctor's words came back to him and he flinched minutely at the thought, even as another part of him said, why not? What could possibly make anything worse, anyway?

"If you were really sorry, you'd do something about it," he hissed.

Horror chased over Chakotay's face as Tom's words sank in, and yet hadn't he sworn that he was Tom's property do with as he wanted. Did Tom think that the offer of his ass would be enough to bring life back to his limp, disinterested cock? Maybe he did.

"You want to fuck me?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"What with?" Tom spat back, gesturing at his useless groin.

Chakotay chewed on his lower lip.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked awkwardly.

Tom flushed and dropped his head before answering "Yeah," in a near whisper.

Chakotay felt sick. He couldn't see a way of refusing Tom's need, hell, he didn't want to leave Tom in this misery, yet, at the same time, wasn't this abuse of the pilot, even if he asked for it?

It was difficult to know *what* he should do, and so he decided that the only thing he could do, under the circumstances, was to keep his promise, and obey Tom's request.

He dropped to his knees before approaching, remembering the fact that Tom had said that he himself had forced Tom to crawl. It seemed the only way to do this, particularly since he was fully dressed and Tom had the additional vulnerability of nakedness.

He could see Tom shivering in a mixture of terror and anticipation as he approached, so he deliberately kept his face down turned, and his shoulders low in a gesture of humility. He knew how imposing he was physically, and in view of his previous behavior towards Tom he was beginning to believe that it was fear of him that was preventing Tom from exacting the revenge he needed.

What good did it do Tom to have him supposedly helpless in his quarters if he was too frightened to use the power he had over him? It was time that Chakotay proved that he had been serious about his offer of reparation. He would prove, here and now, that Tom had no reason to fear him anymore.

He settled between Tom's open legs and bent his head towards Tom's groin. Tom's rapid intake of breath was definitely not excitement, he realized, as on either side of his head the pilot's long legs began to tremble in terror. It was this obvious, heart-breaking fear that caused tears to well in his eyes so that he could barely see as he leant forward and tentatively licked at the tip of Tom's flaccid cock.

He heard Tom's breathing change, so he moved his tongue in a slow, lazy arc around Tom's cock head, teasing at the slit until he tasted a tiny hint of salt. Then he nuzzled deeper into Tom's lap, licking up the length of the soft shaft until he reached Tom's ball sac. One by one he sucked at Tom's balls, making sure that his lips were gentle as they massaged.

When he finally felt them tighten a little, he returned his attention to Tom's cock and laved down it's length again. It jerked a little under his mouth's caress and he could hear Tom's breath coming in ragged gasps, yet still Tom's flesh remained limp and disinterested.

Very carefully, listening intently to Tom's breathing to judge his response, he began to use his teeth too. He worked his way over Tom's groin in a series of licks and kisses and tiny nibbles, barely letting his teeth touch Tom's skin before releasing and moving once more.

The hard floor was beginning to grind into his knees and after a shift on the bridge, his back and neck screamed their protest at his position, but he ignored his own body's protests, intent only on teasing a reaction out of Tom's.

He had a feeling that if he let his fingers creep up towards Tom's ass, he would have more chance of causing the pilot to respond, but he refused to even try that tactic. This was for Tom, to prove that Tom's cock could still respond to its own stimulation rather than just react involuntarily to rape.

Tom's hands clutched his hair and he felt fingers massaging his scalp, their frantic movement an encouragement, so he moved down and took Tom's cockhead in his mouth. At first he simply held the glans with his lips and concentrated on fucking the slit with short, sharp jabs of his tongue.

Then, as he finally felt Tom's shaft begin to engorge, he slid a little more of it into his mouth, his tongue still busily licking at the pre-cum that was slowly beginning to ooze out of its head. Tom was shaking and gasping, but the fingers in his hair were now almost painful in their insistent kneading of his scalp, so he felt confident enough to relax his throat muscles and draw more of Tom's length inside him.

Now that Tom was hard, Chakotay began to slide his mouth up and down Tom's shaft, bathing its entire length with his hot, wet caress. Tom was beginning to jerk on the bed as though Chakotay's ministrations were sending tiny jolts of electricity through his body.

Chakotay used his hands to gently hold Tom's thighs steady so that he could continue his assault unhindered. Tom responded by pulling against the back of his head, pulling him closer so that his throat was further impaled. Something about Tom's action warned Chakotay that Tom was feeling too overwhelmed and out of control, so he froze in place and allowed Tom to set the pace instead.

Slowly at first and then with increasing confidence, Tom started to fuck Chakotay's mouth. Chakotay felt Tom trying to rise from the bed so that he had some leverage, so he slid backwards a few inches, careful to keep Tom's cock deeply imbedded in his throat and he used his hands to pull at the back of Tom's thighs until Tom was standing upright.

Then he had to keep his hands tightly against Tom's legs to brace himself as Tom began to buck his hips and thrust into his mouth with a savagery born of pure need.

Tom's sudden assault was painful in its intensity. He was violently ramming himself into Chakotay's eager throat with such abandon that Chakotay could barely breathe. He had to concentrate to keep his now exhausted mouth wide enough that his teeth wouldn't scrape against Tom's shaft.

Tom was sobbing and crying as his first successful erection in months was taking him to the bliss of an orgasm, and the sheer depth of his passion was forcing tears to stream down Chakotay's face in relief that he was, at last, doing *something* that might in a tiny way help to undo the harm that he had done.

To his disgust though, Chakotay could feel his own cock pressing painfully against his pants, and the fact that he was gaining his own pleasure from an act that was purely meant to help Tom, made him so bitterly ashamed of himself that he almost missed the signal that Tom was near release.

Tom stiffened, his thigh muscles going taut against the bracing support of Chakotay's hands, and then he screamed as he came, wailing as though months of hurt were being expelled alongside the cum that surged into Chakotay's throat.

Chakotay gulped and swallowed, willingly accepting the essence of Tom that filled his mouth with a salty-bitter sweetness, and as Tom shuddered and pumped, Chakotay suctioned at him, draining every last drop of Tom's seed with a hungry need of his own.

Tom staggered and slipped backwards to sit on the bed, his eyes glazed in his red, breathless face, and Chakotay moved forward to gently lick him clean, savoring the taste of Tom's pleasure as he lapped at the sticky remnants of Tom's orgasm.

"Oh shit," Tom gasped, when he finally caught his breath.

He looked down at Chakotay's bent head and then used his right hand to force Chakotay's chin up. He wanted to taste himself on Chakotay's lips, wanted to share his joy in his pleasure with the man who had so gently and patiently forced his reluctant body to respond.

Yet when Chakotay finally raised his face so that Tom could look him in the eyes, all Tom could see was the tears of humiliation that were spilling down the older man's face and Tom could only close his eyes against Chakotay's mute condemnation.

He pushed angrily against Chakotay's shoulders, thrusting him away angrily, his own guilt making him strike out viciously at the source of his own shame, and he fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Chakotay regarded the locked door in misery. For a moment, as he had looked up into Tom's face he had imagined that Tom was as blissfully relieved as he was that it had worked. Then, Tom's face had twisted as he had looked down, and remembered obviously that it was *he* who had caused Tom's problem in the first place. No wonder Tom couldn't bear to look at him.

~~~

"I’m sorry about the collar and chain thing," Kathryn mumbled sheepishly, burying her nose in her mug of coffee but peeking over the rim to check Chakotay's reaction to her confession.

Chakotay remained comfortably sprawled in his chair in her ready room, one hand holding his own drink, the other carding absently through his hair as he thought about her words.

"It seemed out of character for Tom," Chakotay finally replied in a mild, thoughtful voice. "I assumed someone had suggested it to him, but my money was on Tuvok."

He gave her a wry grin and she chuckled, appreciating his sense of humor over the situation. Whatever she may have told Tom, there was no way she would have made the suggestion if she hadn't been one hundred percent positive that Chakotay would understand and approve of her idea.

"Yes, it is the sort of logical thing he would have thought of," Kathryn agreed. "I really am sorry, but I was sure you’d understand why I gave Tom the idea."

"Of course," Chakotay nodded. "He’s actually managed to sleep this last week, and his response times at the helm have leapt up as a consequence."

"Do you think that’s why I said it?" Kathryn asked curiously. "Just for Tom’s sake?"

Chakotay gave a rueful chuckle.

"I know that it is ‘primarily’ for Tom’s sake, as is this whole fiasco. You made that perfectly clear to me when I came back to Voyager and it was too late for me to go back on my word."

"Are you regretting that decision, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked in genuine concern. Although she had clutched at the agreement between Tom and Chakotay like she was drowning and had been offered a life-raft, she was well aware that both men had deep mental scars from their joint experiences. Her only option had been to concentrate on Tom's needs and hope, by doing so, she was also addressing Chakotay's.

"In a way, I suppose, but it’s just a selfish thing. I look in the mirror and can’t bear to see my own face staring back at me. I find myself smiling or tempted to laugh at something and suddenly I feel so guilty about daring to feel happy that I want to suffer and be punished. I thought Tom would treat me badly. I *wanted* Tom to treat me badly," Chakotay admitted.

"But Tom obviously *doesn't* want to treat you badly, and it's not fair of you to expect Tom to do something that will make *him* feel guilty, just to assuage your own feelings of guilt," she reminded him gently.

"I know that, Kathryn. Damn, I *know* Tom isn't capable of cruelty. I hoped he would at least take a fair shot at me though. It isn't natural for him to have *no* anger towards me, and between you and me, I'm pretty sure that he has lots of anger, but is simply too frightened of me, or his memories of me, to do anything about it," Chakotay confessed sadly.

"Well it comes down to whether you care more about yourself or Tom, doesn’t it? What is most important is whatever *he* needs to recover and if his idea of reparation doesn’t coincide with your expectations then its just too bad. If you are more interested in your own "punishment" than in Tom’s recovery, than you aren’t the good man that Tom swears that you are."

"But why? Why does he want to forgive me? I just don’t know why he doesn’t hate me, Kathryn," Chakotay replied in genuine bewilderment.

"He hates what you did to him, obviously, but understands that it was not you who really did those things. He understands that more clearly than you do. Having said that, what he believes and what he feels are obviously two separate things."

"He’s terrified of me, Kathryn. His head might be telling him that I am safe, but his body knows better. He flinches whenever I move towards him," Chakotay admitted with a bitter sob.

"I know," she agreed.

"That’s why I came back, I think. The real reason. Because, when he stood there, telling me the things that I had done to him, it became clear to me that he’ll never recover until the day he can look me in the eye and not feel fear. My death would have stolen that possibility from him. He could never have known whether he ever could stand up to me. I’m not talking about whether he can strike me or punish me, or exact payback. I mean truly regain enough confidence not to flinch at a sudden movement or cringe when I raise my hand."

"What do you propose to do about it?" Kathryn asked.

"The chain was a start, Kathryn. It's humiliating as hell, I admit, but it makes him feel safe with me. I think he needs more of those forms of reassurance. He needs to know that I *can't* hurt him, instead of him having to simply *believe* that I won't. The dynamics of our relationship have to change."

"I'm not sure if I approve of you two even having a relationship," Kathryn admitted.

"I know, Kathryn. Try and understand though. I love Tom and he obviously feels the same way, at the moment at least. I accept that his sexual desire for me is probably just a reaction to what I did to him and that once he has recovered, *if* he ever recovers, he will probably move on. I can't pretend that the idea doesn't hurt me, it does, but after what I have done, I don't deserve him. I don't deserve anyone's love."

"Chakotay that's not true," Kathryn protested.

Chakotay just shrugged. He knew that it was and didn't want the conversation to turn into a discussion of *his* mental health. The important person here was Tom.

"The point I'm trying to make, Kathryn, is that Tom has a problem sexually now, because of me. He believes I am the only person who can help him get over that problem, and I agree. The fact that I raped him, keep him helpless and more to the point made him *enjoy* the sexual act while he was helpless, has left him literally impotent. It's my responsibility to help him get past that problem."

"Forgive my bluntness, Chakotay, but do you really think that Tom can get past his memories by subjecting you to a similar indignity?"

"Absolutely. If *I* am the helpless one, if *he* has the power in the situation, it will be a way for him to start seeing himself as strong again."

"He is strong, Chakotay," Kathryn hissed.

"Of course he is. If I had been through what he went through I would have been a quivering wreck, Kathryn. His strength, his determination to survive, his insistence that *I* survive, these are all proof of his strength. The problem is that we can see it, but he can't, and the only opinion that really counts here is his."

"I can't see him hurting you, Chakotay. He isn't the type."

"I'm not suggesting he should, although I *do* wish he would," Chakotay said with a wry grin. "I've been talking to the Doctor about this. For a hologram, he's quite an expert on sexual relationships. I'm not suggesting an abusive relationship between Tom and I. There's something the Doctor suggested. A D/s relationship?"

Kathryn looked blank.

"It's where one of the partners is clearly the dominant partner sexually, and the other is submissive. It is a consensual thing. It often is not the physically stronger person who is dominant, and it rarely carries itself out of the bedroom. All it means is that the dominant partner calls the shots sexually with the complete submission of the other partner," Chakotay explained.

"Forgive me, Chakotay, but I can't see it. Not the idea itself, it sounds fine in theory, but let's face it, there simply isn't anything submissive about you. It's obvious to me and it must be equally obvious to Tom. You can tell him, as often as you like, that he is in charge but he will just be waiting for you to turn on him or to take advantage of the situation."

"Not if he ties me up," Chakotay replied calmly.

Kathryn laughed, then realized Chakotay wasn't joking and her eyes widened.

"You seriously are suggesting that Tom should tie you up and, and, um,"

"'Um' sounds good," Chakotay replied with a small smile.

"So, you *still* want Tom to rape you as a form of payback," Kathryn spat in disgust.

"You don't understand, Kathryn. This isn't about rape, although I admit that it *could* work out that way once I am helpless. Only, since I am inviting him to do it, it isn't rape, is it? Anyway, that's not what I am talking about. I mean the idea that I voluntarily agree to some form of bondage so that Tom feels completely in control. At least until some trust is built up between us."

"AHA," Kathryn exclaimed, as the penny dropped. "This is about *you* showing trust to Tom in the hope that he will one day learn to trust you."

"You do understand," Chakotay said softly.

"I do," Kathryn agreed with a small smile. "You're forgetting something important though. In suggesting this, you are taking control anyway. You are calling the shots, creating the scenario for Tom to play in, aren't you?"

"Not if he doesn't know that I suggested it," Chakotay replied quietly.

"WHAT? You want *me* to suggest it to him?" Kathryn demanded.

"Why not? You seemed to have no problem with suggesting a collar and chain, Kathryn. What's a set of handcuffs or two after that?" Chakotay replied with a smug grin.

~~~

Tom shuffled nervously on his chair for the umpteenth time. Chakotay looked at him in concern but as soon as he caught Tom's eyes, the pilot ducked his head and pretended a fascination with his own navel.

Chakotay sighed and shifted his weight slightly to ease the pressure on his knees. His minute adjustment of position was enough to make Tom's head jerk up in panic once more. When Tom realized that Chakotay wasn't attempting to rise from "position," he relaxed again slightly and pretended to read a data padd.

Even from his location on the floor, on the opposite side of the room, Chakotay could see that the data padd was upside down. He sighed again. It was Sunday morning, he had been kneeling in the corner for two hours now and it seemed that he would spend the whole day just watching Tom falling apart if he didn't do something about it.

After speaking to Kathryn, he had also made a point of talking to the Doctor and Tuvok. He had been sure that at least *one* of the three could have inspired Tom to do something more with him than place him in the corner and then shiver as though he was sharing his quarters with a dangerous beast.

Without taking obvious control, Chakotay was going to have to force Tom to deal with him. "Topping from the bottom" was what the Doctor had called it. It was another of those things that, as Kathryn had pointed out, sounded fine in theory but was a hell of a lot harder to do in reality.

Chakotay had an idea but he wasn't sure whether he could go through with it. It went against every fiber of his being to try it at all, and it could blow up in his face if Tom over-reacted. On the other hand, it was also perhaps his best shot.

"Tom?" he whispered quietly.

"SHUT UP," Tom shrieked, a little hysterically, his eyes darting nervously towards the door as though he might bolt.

"Tom, I need to -"

"You need to shut the fuck up," Tom hissed back, in obvious panic at Chakotay's seeming defiance.

Chakotay took a deep breath, closed his eyes and willed his reluctant body to obey him. For a long time nothing happened as his bladder refused his summons, but eventually, the pressure in his kidneys increased as all the water that he had deliberately drunk in the privacy of the bathroom earlier began to force its way through his body.

Despite his relief when his reluctant bladder finally obeyed, Chakotay didn't have to fake the hot flush of embarrassment that stained his cheeks as Tom's nostrils flared and he looked over to see the rapidly spreading darkness at Chakotay's groin.

"Oh, Shit. Oh, Shit. I'm sorry," Tom garbled helplessly.

"May I?" Chakotay asked mildly.

"Shit, yeah. I'm sorry, Chak. I'm so sorry," Tom replied frantically.

It wasn't quite the reaction that Chakotay had hoped for. He had apparently forced Tom into the same situation enough times that there should have been at least a modicum of satisfaction in Tom's expression rather than this hand-wringing guilt. Nevertheless, it meant Chakotay had an excuse to take his clothes off, which had to be a move in the right direction.

He hauled himself to his feet, pretending to ignore the way that Tom unconsciously moved so that the sofa became a barrier between them, and he slowly walked to the bathroom. He stripped off, took a quick shower, then walked back into the living room to place his soiled clothing into the refresher, before resuming his former position on the floor.

"Wha - wha- what are you doing?" Tom choked, bug-eyed.

Chakotay looked calmly down at his own naked body.

"Assuming position," he replied mildly.

For the next hour or so, the silence between them was so thick with tension that Chakotay imagined he could cut it with a knife. He pointedly kept his eyes fixed on the carpet between his open knees so that he appeared oblivious of the way Tom's eyes were raking his body in a mixture of horror and fascination. He could sense Tom's interest through every pore of his skin and his cock betrayed him, twitching to life and slowly engorging so that its already eye-catching size seemed to double as it filled with blood.

He could hear Tom's breathing coming in sharp, terrified gasps and Chakotay began to believe he had made a serious error as Tom shot to his feet. He looked up in panic to see Tom's face screwed up in a mixture of fear and anger.

"Bastard," Tom hissed.

Chakotay flinched slightly but met Tom's eyes.

"You like that?" Tom demanded. "Does it turn you on?"

Chakotay looked down guiltily at his own erection and shrugged in genuine puzzlement.

"It seems so," he confessed.

"Do you think it turned *me* on?" Tom demanded furiously. "Is *that* what you think? Do you think I *liked* it? Do you think I *asked* for it?"

Chakotay flushed as he heard the pain in Tom's voice.

"No," he mumbled.

Tom sat down again, his fury evident in the way he crashed his body painfully into the chair. Chakotay winced at the sound.

They were silent again for an interminable time before Tom spoke again.

"It wasn't like *that* for me," he hissed.

"What?"

Tom pointed at Chakotay's swollen cock then bit his lower lip and looked away.

"What was it like?" Chakotay asked gently when it seemed that Tom would say no more on the subject.

Something dark twisted in Tom's face and his blue eyes were dark and haunted when he finally met Chakotay's gaze.

"Don't you remember?" Tom mocked, his voice bitter and a tic dancing at the edge of his left eye.

Chakotay watched Tom's elegant fingers twisting together nervously but he said nothing, merely waiting for Tom to find words to release his obvious tension.

"No, of course you don't," Tom finally muttered in defeat. "You're not sitting there with a fucking great dildo up your ass. You don't have a leather strap cutting your cock and balls in half, and you're not scared out of your fucking mind are you? This is just a game to you, isn't it?"

"It's not a game," Chakotay replied firmly.

Tom's eyes flashed.

"You wanna *know*? Really *know* how I felt?" he yelled suddenly.

A tear trickled down Chakotay's cheekbone and dripped to the floor.

"Yes," he whispered. "Please, Tom. Help me understand your pain."

"Fuck you," Tom hissed, pulling his knees up protectively and huddling in his chair.

Chakotay watched him rock in misery and made a decision. He rose slowly to his feet and headed for the replicator, ignoring Tom's gasp of combined fear and confusion as he broke position.

"What are you doing?" Tom finally squeaked when Chakotay turned back from the replicator. His eyes opened in shock as he saw what Chakotay was holding and he gave a nervous laugh.

"You serious?" he whispered, a little pleadingly.

"Yes," Chakotay replied.

For a moment Tom's face remained stunned and a little confused. Then the corner of his mouth quirked and he reached forward and snatched the dildo out of Chakotay's hands and went to the replicator himself. When he turned back Chakotay's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"It has to match your eyes, Chak. Didn't you know that?" Tom asked bitterly.

Chakotay swallowed and nodded quietly as he accepted the replacement from Tom's hands.

"How do I - " he began.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Just use lots of lube," Tom replied nastily. He turned away in dismissal and waited until Chakotay disappeared into the bathroom before he began to shake with reaction. He knew from experience that it would take Chakotay a long time to stretch himself adequately, if he *was* really serious. He hurried over to his personal console and called the Doctor.

"Doc," he whispered furtively.

"Good Morning, Tom," the Doctor replied cheerfully, determined to hide his irritation at being disturbed in the middle of a recitation of Don Giovanni.

"Shush," Tom whispered. "He'll hear you."

The Doctor's irritation vanished to be replaced by concern as Tom quickly filled him in on the morning's events.

"What am I going to do now?" Tom asked helplessly.

"I think it is an ideal opportunity for you to do what we discussed, don't you?" the Doctor replied mildly.

Tom flushed. "I don't think I can," he admitted.

"You said you wanted to do it," the Doctor reminded him. "It seems that the Commander would not be averse to the idea."

Tom swallowed nervously.

"What if he, if he, um, turns on me?"

"Do what the Captain suggested, Tom. Put the handcuffs on the bed and tell him to put them on. Don't enter the bedroom yourself until he has done so and keep your comm. badge open. I will make sure that you are transported out of there instantly if you get into difficulty."

"You're going to listen?" Tom asked in horror.

"Tom, I am a doctor *and* a hologram. I assure you my discretion is impeccable. As soon as I know you are fine, I will sever the connection myself," the Doctor lied, deciding that his research into human mating rituals was *far* more interesting than opera, after all.

Tom's face relaxed a little at his assurance.

"Thanks doc," he whispered.

"Good luck," the Doctor replied, and this time his words were sincere.

~~~

Chakotay looked helplessly at the dildo again. He refused to let pain and a little plastic defeat him but his virgin ass was having nothing to do with his attempts to insert the rigid fake penis. Maybe he should have gone for a smaller size. He had wanted to impress Tom by choosing exactly the same size as he had apparently forced Tom to wear and his eyes watered in sympathy at what he had put the pilot through.

He had used his fingers, and most of a tube of lubrication so far, to loosen his sphincter but still the blunt object refused to enter him and he knew instinctively that if he simply forced it in to himself, the resultant tearing and blood would stop Tom from even dreaming of touching him.

Ashamed he finally accepted defeat and returned to the living room, the dildo clenched in his lube slicked fingers. Head drooping in embarrassment he stopped a safe distance from Tom and admitted, "I can't do it."

Strangely, his shame-faced admission helped Tom feel more in control of the situation.

"Never taken it up the ass before, huh?" Tom asked, his words both mocking and oddly sympathetic at the same time.

Chakotay shook his head miserably.

"So, you're a virgin?" Tom laughed.

Chakotay's head shot up in obvious embarrassment and he swallowed a couple of times before he could swallow his pride enough to confess.

"Not technically, but since I don't remember, then yes, I guess so."

A look of stunned comprehension passed over Tom's face.

"You mean you've never, at all?" he asked quietly.

Chakotay flushed.

"I read the report. I know about, about Simon," he mumbled. "And I know what I did to you. But I don't remember any of it."

"There was no-one else? No one before?" Tom demanded incredulously.

Chakotay refused to look at him.

"No," he whispered.

"I thought you and Seska," Tom started.

Chakotay gave a bitter chuckle as he gazed at his own groin.

"We kind of did it, but she wouldn't let me, well, you know," he mumbled.

"She wouldn't let you fuck her?" Tom asked bluntly.

Chakotay shook his head miserably.

"No. No one ever did," he confessed finally. Then he looked up at Tom with eyes full of self-loathing and misery. "Maybe I *did* know what I was doing, Tom. Have you thought of that? Maybe it just all got to much for me, being a freak, never having anyone touch me, having every one look at me like I was abnormal."

"Hey, don't flatter yourself, Chak. You're not *that* big," Tom replied with a surprising attempt at humor.

Chakotay was stunned, yet again, by Tom's capacity for compassion.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "Perhaps something a little smaller?" he suggested tentatively.

Tom's smile was not reassuring as he replied. "I'm not *that* small, Chak."

Dry-mouthed with shock as Tom's words sank in, Chakotay could only manage to nod his agreement. This *was* what he had offered Tom, after all. There was no point in complaining just because he was surprised that Tom had finally decided to take him up on his offer.

"Go into the bedroom and get ready for me," Tom said quietly, hoping his face wasn't betraying his fear.

Chakotay simply nodded and complied. He was startled to see the soft fur-lined handcuffs lain out on the bed. When he had suggested the idea to Kathryn he had imagined chains or something, not these fluffy toys. Still, it was amazing that Tom had decided to give it a try, and just because his ass was now clenching nervously now that the idea of being penetrated was suddenly becoming a reality, he was determined to make this as easy on Tom as possible.

Tom saw the way Chakotay's ass muscles were clenching and rippling in nervousness and he hid a small smile. Suddenly, for the first time in weeks, he felt better about everything. In just a little while longer he was going to have what his body had been screaming out for, but without fear, without pain.

He was barely able to breathe as he watched Chakotay fasten the cuffs around his wrists and then attach his right hand to the headboard. Then he lay down on the bed, offering his left arm upwards for Tom to complete the bondage. His cock was limp between his muscular thighs and Tom could see the rapid rise and fall of Chakotay's chest, yet still the big man was obviously willing to submit himself to whatever indignity Tom would offer, and Tom's heart lurched a little as he moved forward to fasten the other cuff to the headboard before his shaking fingers started to unfasten his pants.

Chakotay kept his eyes tightly shut, unable to look at Tom without showing his terror. He shifted his hips and opened his legs invitingly as Tom finished undressing and clambered onto the bed to kneel between Chakotay's thighs.

Chakotay braced himself for Tom's assault on his ass, expecting no more than the rude feel of Tom's cock between his legs before he was breached. Instead, he gasped as his right nipple received a teasing lick. His eyes shot open and he looked straight into blue eyes that were happy and shadow free for the first time in weeks.

Tom grinned and then attacked Chakotay's left nipple, licking and nibbling it to a hard nub. Then he traced a long, lazy swirl of kisses downwards towards Chakotay's groin.

Chakotay bucked in surprise as Tom's tongue licked down the length of his shaft.

"What are you doing?" he gasped as his cock surged back to life.

Tom dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit in Chakotay's cockhead, sending a spasming reaction back through Chakotay's groin.

"Oh, shit," Chakotay gasped.

Tom gave an evil grin and then started to tease his lips around Chakotay's now erect cock at the same time as his right hand snaked between their bodies so that his index finger could press against the loosened muscles of Chakotay's hole.

Chakotay gasped as the lube slicked finger entered him and unerringly found his prostate. The sensation caused him to buck his hips wildly once more.

"Like that?" Tom whispered as he released Chakotay's cock from his mouth and concentrated on finding Chakotay's internal g-spot.

Chakotay sobbed in agreement, deciding that maybe the idea of Tom's cock in his ass wasn't such a bad idea after all. Hell, if Tom's finger could feel *that* good, wouldn't his cock just feel better?

Tom contemplated adding a second finger, but Chakotay's ass was so tight he wasn't sure he could do it without tearing him. No wonder Chak hadn't managed to insert the dildo. He moved slightly to get a better position and Chakotay's ass clamped painfully around his index finger in reaction. Despite Chakotay's groans of pleasure and his obvious decision to let Tom call the shots, his body was undeniably terrified .

Tom decided that it was time to get on with the *real* purpose of the bondage before Chakotay's cock lost its wonderful stiffness.

He eased forward over Chakotay's chest and moved his knees one at a time until he was now straddling Chakotay's hips. Then he reached behind himself and pulled out the fat butt plug that he had been wearing almost constantly for two days since he had discussed his idea with the Doctor.

"Tom, what are you doing?" Chakotay gasped in shock. "You can't do this!"

"Do I need to gag you?" Tom asked sweetly. "It would be a shame, 'cos I wanted to listen to you scream as you cum."

Chakotay swallowed convulsively, but as Tom lowered his ass so that Chakotay could feel his own cockhead pressing at the well-lubed opening, his own desire was overwhelmed by panic.

"Tom, no. Please. I can't do this. I can't bear to hurt you, please To-" his words were abruptly cut off as Tom stuffed his own discarded shirt in Chakotay's mouth.

"I warned you," Tom sang happily as he sat down slowly.

"Oh shit," he gasped. He had forgotten just how thick Chakotay's cock was. He had to pause a moment, fighting for breath, his eyes watering a little. Then he felt the walls of his passage begin to relax and he slowly eased down, sparing a smile to try and chase away the terror that had flashed into Chakotay's eyes at his cry of pain.

It felt so good to be filled again like this. Made whole once more. The aching void of loneliness filled with the throbbing heat of Chakotay's cock. No fear now. No pain. Just everything he wanted without the terror that had always accompanied it before.

He slid slowly up and down Chakotay's length, feeling the delicious sensation of velvet sheathed steel as it glided easily against his own flesh, sending shafts of liquid fire through his whole body.

Tom paused long enough to release the shirt from Chakotay's mouth before he choked and then stopped the vocalization of any protests by changing his angle slightly and starting to bob up and down on Chakotay's lap.

"Oh, Spirits, Tom. That's ughh, oh shit, you're aggh, oh FUCK!" Chakotay howled, tears streaming down his face as the younger man thrust himself up and down his length, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Please, Tom," he gasped. "Release my hands."

Tom froze, his eyes flashing open in a combination of terror and dread.

"Let me touch you," Chakotay begged, his eyes riveted on the hardness between Tom's own thighs.

Tom followed his vision and gave a blinding smile as he seemed to notice his own erection for the first time.

"No," he purred, leaning forward so that he could support and control his weight on his right hand, while the fingers of his left wrapped around his cock and he began to stroke it in rhythm with his own rise and descent on Chakotay's shaft.

Chakotay gave up all pretence of self-control, beginning to lift his hips to meet Tom's descent and humping desperately against the tight hotness of Tom's ass. He had never felt anything so wonderful, or at least couldn't remember feeling it, as the warm caress of Tom's internal muscles.

He relaxed and embraced the sensation, understanding that *this* was what Tom wanted, to be fucked, not to fuck, but to be in control.

"No fear," Chakotay whispered in complete understanding at last.

Tom looked down on him, his eyes sparkling with undeniable love.

"No fear," he agreed and he smiled.

As he saw Chakotay's answering smile, the last of Tom's reservations left him. He increased his pace, so that he could focus on nothing but the feel of Chakotay's cock inside him as he fucked his own fist in tandem. He came with a scream, his cum spilling over Chakotay's chest in pearly ribbons, and his ass clenched tightly on its invader, forcing Chakotay to his own climax.

Chakotay came with a roar as the pain/pleasure of his own completion drove him over the edge and he bucked wildly into Tom's now docile ass until he could feel the sticky warmth of his cum filling the exhausted blond whose head was now collapsed on Chakotay's chest.

"Why?" he asked when he finally caught his breath and the enormity of Tom's gift overwhelmed him.

"I guess no one else fits anymore," Tom replied, and it was only half a joke.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," Chakotay started.

Tom quietened him with a deep, breath-stealing kiss.

"I love you," Tom told him when they finally broke apart.

"But you fear me," Chakotay told him sadly, pulling a little at his restraints for emphasis.

"Do you mind?" Tom asked solemnly, his eyes a little ashamed as he looked at the handcuffs.

"I only mind because you find them necessary Tom. I don't deserve your trust and I don't expect it. I will do anything you need me to do to prove that I trust *you* though."

"We're okay then?" Tom asked nervously, as though he was now wondering whether he dared release the handcuffs.

"What you just did, what *we* just did, was the most wonderful thing that I have ever experienced, Tom Paris. Thank you," Chakotay assured him.

"So, you really were a virgin, huh?"

"Yes," Chakotay admitted, blushing furiously.

"I think we should work on your other virginity," Tom mumbled into Chakotay's navel.

"What?"

"A chocolate brown butt plug. Nice and small, at first, so you can wear it under your uniform. I like the idea of that when you're on the bridge behind me."

"You're worried about me coming back onto Alpha Shift tomorrow, aren't you?"

"You scare the shit out of me, Chak. I sit there at the helm and I can smell you behind me."

"I smell?" Chakotay asked in mock indignation.

"You smell good," Tom reassured him, giving a lick to Chakotay's still dripping cock. It lurched in response. "Forget it, my ass can't take any more," Tom snarled at it.

"Did I hurt you?" Chakotay asked, his eyes filling with horror.

"YOU didn't do ANYTHING to me," Tom snapped furiously. "I did it. It was ME."

Chakotay dipped his eyes in apology.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Look, Chak. I'm fucked up. We both know that. You want to help. You want to have a big guilt trip and make yourself feel better. Well, tough shit. I don't want your help. I just want your cock, okay?"

"Okay," Chakotay replied solemnly. "Consider it yours."

Tom's eyes narrowed in fury and he stiffened, only for him to just as quickly give a gulp of laughter and he smiled, his temper suddenly extinguished.

Chakotay released his pent up breath and relaxed a little. He was walking on eggshells with Tom, but he was beginning to understand that Tom couldn't cope with his constant apologies and kicked-puppy expressions. Tom dealt with stress with acerbic wit and it would be better for Tom if Chakotay tried to do the same.

Otherwise, he was doing what Kathryn had accused him of, ignoring Tom's needs in favor of his own. No apology could ever be enough, so maybe it was time for him to stop wasting his breath demanding a forgiveness that Tom couldn't possibly give. Tom didn't want to dwell on the past, he wanted to move forwards, heal and face the future.

"So what *do* you want to do with your new cock, Tom?" he asked lightly.

Tom's head reared up in disbelief to look into Chakotay's gently mocking eyes and he gave a small smile of appreciation.

"Wanna go play some pool?" he asked tentatively.

Chakotay maintained a straight face as he replied. "Like you said, Tom. It's not *that* big."

Tom barked with genuine laughter and climbed off the bed. Chakotay noted sadly that Tom took the time to clean himself and dress once more before releasing Chakotay's restraints, as though he needed the protection of his clothing before he would feel safe enough. He made no comment though, simply walking to the bathroom to do his own ablutions.

He dressed casually and met Tom in the living room.

"I forgot to ask," he said with studied nonchalance.

"What?" Tom asked nervously.

"Did you want me to wear a butt plug to Sandrine's, or do you think you can kick my ass sufficiently without one?"

For a moment, Tom froze in terror and then a slow smile crept over his face.

"How are your rations, Chak?" he asked softly.

"Very healthy," Chakotay replied with an answering smile.

"Then get ready for the ass-kicking of your life," Tom smirked, and if his confident smile was a little forced, Chakotay saw no need to comment on it. He prepared himself to be well and truly humiliated at pool.

"Lead on," he grinned.

Tom's high-wattage smile dimmed a little.

"After you," he said with a pretence of casualness.

Chakotay winced a little but nodded and led the way out of Tom's quarters so that Tom wouldn't have to turn his back on him.

~~~

"What the fuck are you playing at, Tom?" Harry hissed as he slid into the vacant space on Tom's right.

"Pool, Harry," Tom mocked. "Have you forgotten the name of it already? Now you have other things to occupy your spare time, I mean." He dipped his head significantly at the end of the bar where B'Elanna was sitting, her own eyes narrow with suspicion as she watched her boyfriend and ex-boyfriend talking.

"You're playing pool with *him*, Tom," Harry snarled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Tom flinched a little under Harry's scrutiny but attempted a casual shrug as he reached for the two beers that Sandrine had placed on the bar for him.

"Butt out, Harry. Go fuck your 'girlfriend' or something. It's nothing to do with you."

Across the room, Chakotay stiffened in fury. He didn't blame Harry for the way he felt about him, but it was obvious from Tom's stiff posture and angrily flushed cheeks that Harry was upsetting Tom and Chakotay had a damned good idea that *he* was the topic of conversation. He hesitated to approach though. A show of temper would only seem to prove Harry's wariness of him and might frighten Tom. So he seethed in impotent concern and watched the two men argue at the bar.

"Tom, I'm your friend," Harry said quietly.

"Some friend," Tom hissed. Then he flushed slightly as Harry's eyes went wide with hurt. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. You were always a good friend to me until, until -"

"Until *he* deliberately drove us apart, Tom. I admit I was selfish. I thought about my career, I even admit that my feelings for B'Elanna played a part, but ultimately the reason you and I fell out was Chakotay," Harry replied.

"I know," Tom acknowledged sadly.

"Can we, I mean, do you think we, hell, I mean, could we be friends again, Tom?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I don't know, Harry. Can *you* accept that Chakotay and I are together?" Tom replied.

"Together?" Harry gasped in complete disbelief. "As in *together*? Shit, does the Captain know about this?"

"And if I said no, would you run and tell her?" Tom demanded.

"Yes I would, dammit. He's dangerous Tom," Harry insisted.

"He was ill. He's better, and the Captain *does* know, so don't waste your breath," Tom hissed.

"He's better? That's why you flinch whenever he comes near you, is it? I've been watching you, Tom. Every time you take a shot you check that he isn't standing behind you. How the hell can you get "together" with someone who scares the shit out of you?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with outrage.

"I love him," Tom replied firmly. "None of the rest matters. We'll work it out."

"Damn it, Tom. It doesn't make sense. Okay, I accept that Chakotay was ill, but how am I supposed to believe he is better and that you are safe when you obviously don't even believe it yourself?" Harry demanded.

"I *do* believe it, Harry. I just, hell, I just get flashbacks, you know? It's not about Chakotay, it's about Mad Chak. I know they aren't the same person," Tom said defensively.

Harry looked at Tom nervously. It worried him immensely that Tom was trying to separate Chakotay's current persona from his previous one in such a fashion. It didn't seem at all natural to him. Surely it only proved that Tom was still psychologically scarred by his experience, and if so then his current fascination with Chakotay was based on those scars, not genuine feelings of affection.

"How the hell can you forgive him, Tom, after all he did to you?" he demanded.

Tom shrugged.

"The same way as I forgive you for running out on me, and shacking up with my girlfriend I guess," he replied nastily.

Harry jerked as though slapped by Tom's words. His own feelings of intense guilt caused him to respond with uncharacteristic spite.

"She wasn't your girlfriend, Tom. You'd finished the relationship yourself by letting Dalby fuck your ass, if you remember."

Chakotay lurched forwards as he saw Tom's fist fly unerringly into Harry's face, felling him to the ground. Then he froze again, grinding his teeth in frustration. This was Tom's fight, he reminded himself. Tom wouldn't thank him for interfering, even in the capacity of First Officer. Unless the fight escalated, he would stay out of it.

Harry had hauled himself back to his feet and had launched himself at Tom, but as far as Chakotay could see, neither man was really hurting the other, they were just letting off some much needed steam. A few bruises would heal faster than the hurt Tom would feel if Chakotay implied he was incapable of looking after himself by interfering in the fight.

No sooner had he made the decision than he saw B'Elanna rising from her seat, so he swiftly crossed the room to prevent her joining the affray.

"Stay out of it, Lieutenant," he snapped.

"They're hurting each other," she protested. Then her eyes narrowed. "Not that Tom getting hurt would bother *you* I guess," she added viciously.

Chakotay ignored the deep pang of guilt that struck him as he absorbed her words.

"They're friends, B'Elanna. Tom needs a friend. If this will let Harry and him come to an understanding again, then a few bruises on both sides will be worth it."

"Tom's lack of friends is your fault, Chakotay. You loaded the dice against him before he even set foot on this ship and because everyone wants to protect you, everyone thinks he had a fucking nervous breakdown and are avoiding him like a plague. But you know what I really can't forgive you for? I loved him. I really loved him. Did you know that? Did you understand that when you broke us apart?" B'Elanna demanded, her dark eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," Chakotay offered helplessly.

"Sure you are. That's why you still have your claws in him, isn't it?" B'Elanna accused bitterly.

"You want him back?" Chakotay asked in surprise.

"It's too late," she spat. "You won, okay? They say you were crazy. I don't believe it. You were crazy like a fox. You got what you wanted, didn't you? How fucking crazy is that?"

"I didn't get what I 'wanted', B'Elanna. I didn't *want* Tom to be walking around like a shell-shock victim. I don't want the man I love to flinch every time I go near him. I don't fucking *want* to spend the rest of my life feeling sick with guilt for doing things that I don't even remember doing, things that I can never put right."

"You should have killed yourself, Chakotay. That was what your honor demanded. You're a coward," she spat.

Chakotay reeled with hurt. Yet, he understood that she wasn't talking now as a spurned lover, but as a Klingon, for whom honor was more important than life.

"I would be a coward if I *did* kill myself, B'Elanna. It's what I wanted to do."

"What stopped you?" she demanded.

"Tom did. He needs me, B'Elanna. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve for him to need me. But he *does* need me, and I won't turn my back on him," Chakotay replied softly.

"You can't make things right, Chakotay. You can't undo what was done."

"I know, but maybe I can make his future better. I took away eight years of his life and I owe him at least an equal amount of my own life to try and right the wrongs that I did."

"And what then, Chakotay?" B'Elanna demanded. "No, don't tell me. By then you and he will be an *item*."

"Maybe. Or maybe he'll heal and move on without me," Chakotay said sadly.

"I really think we *should* stop the fight, or there will be nothing left to move on," B'Elanna replied acerbically.

Chakotay shook his head.

"They're okay, look," he replied, nodding to where Tom and Harry were now cautiously circling each other and trading insults rather than punches.

"How do you figure that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because, any moment now, Tom is going to laugh," Chakotay replied quietly.

B'Elanna looked at him in disbelief.

Harry watched Tom's right hand warily. His jaw and ribs were already aching from its surprisingly strong punch.

"I never said you were mad. I said you were out of your fucking mind. It's not the same thing," he hissed defensively. "It's not an insult. It's true. You *are* out of your fucking mind."

And Tom laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he agreed finally.

Harry looked at him in hesitant hope.

"Forget it, Harry. Take me *and* Chak or call it quits," Tom warned.

"You really mean that, don't you?" Harry gasped, massaging his sore rib cage.

"Yeah," Tom replied firmly.

"I can't deal with him, Tom. Not yet. I look at him and I not only remember what he did. I remember what I *didn't* do and I am so ashamed of myself that I want to die."

"You saved my ass, Harry. Remember? You broke into Mad Chak's quarters and saved my ass, literally. Don't you think that makes up for everything? I do."

"You do?" Harry asked in disbelief

"Yeah," Tom answered softly.

"So why the hell did you just beat the crap out of me?" Harry whined.

Tom grinned.

"Because I'm out of my fucking mind, remember?"

Harry snorted but grinned back. Then his smile faded a little.

"I can't deal with you and him together Tom."

"I struggle with the idea of you and B'Elanna, to be honest," Tom replied.

"So no foursomes, huh?" Harry said.

Tom smirked.

"No foursomes," he agreed.

"Wanna play pool tomorrow night?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Sure, I've nearly cleaned out Chak's account. I may as well have a go at yours," Tom laughed.

"We okay, Tom?"

"Sure Harry. We're better than okay. We're friends," Tom said quietly.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes as she saw Tom and Harry hug each other.

"I guess you were right," she admitted grudgingly.

"Yes," Chakotay murmured with relief.

"Harry hates you, you know. He can't forgive you for what you did."

"I can't forgive myself, B'Elanna," Chakotay answered sadly.

B'Elanna cleared her throat.

"What I said was unfair, Chakotay. About you deliberately pretending to be crazy. I know it's not true. I just wanted to hurt you."

"It's okay, B'Elanna. I hurt you. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"

"If you ever hurt him again, I *will* kill you, Chakotay," she told him solemnly.

"If I ever hurt him again, I expect you to, B'Elanna," Chakotay replied, equally solemnly.

"If Tom and Harry start seeing each other like they used to, we are both going to be spending a lot of time alone, Chakotay."

"I know," Chakotay answered. "But I want Tom to be happy, so its okay."

"Humph," B'Elanna growled.

They stood in silence for a long time, watching Tom and Harry get reacquainted, neither of them willing to interfere in the delicate process of mending fences.

"You still box, Chakotay?" she asked abruptly.

"Not recently," Chakotay replied.

"We should do it sometime," B'Elanna said. "It's something to do while the boys play."

"You just want to kick my ass, don't you?" Chakotay asked wryly.

"Of course I do. You got a problem with that?"

A smile tugged the corners of Chakotay's mouth.

"No problem. No problem at all," he murmured.

"Good," B'Elanna said simply, but she paused to give Chakotay's arm a slight, almost friendly squeeze as she turned back to her stool at the bar.

For the first time in weeks, Chakotay remembered the difference between being alone and being lonely.

He smiled softly as he returned to the pool table to wait for Tom. It had been a day full of surprises and for the first time since his return to Voyager, he allowed himself the luxury of hope.

~~~

Although it was Sunday, Sandrine's didn't begin to get crowded until a little after 1900, by which time Tom owned not only the entire balance of Chakotay's ration account but his wardrobe and a part-share in Chakotay's home on Dorvan V.

It had been like taking candy from a baby. Chakotay's hand-eye co-ordination simply didn't seem to extend to the wielding of a cue stick, and since no-one else would play with Tom, Chakotay had been forced to suffer the humiliation of repeated defeat all afternoon.

Tom would have been happy to forget the bets altogether and just enjoy the game. Only, to be perfectly honest, there wasn't much fun to be had in playing someone so bad at Pool and, besides, he decided that it was Chakotay's fault that no-one else wanted to play. If Tom's supposed 'nervous breakdown' wasn't sufficient reason for most of the crew to avoid him, his dark protective shadow inadvertently warned people away.

Harry had made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't play with Tom if Chakotay was there and Tom's anger with Harry over that ultimatum had translated into anger at Chakotay so he had comforted himself by stripping the First Officer of his entire worldly goods.

When Tom's irritation had finally died away, replaced by guilt at having won everything that Chakotay owned, Chakotay pointing out that since *he* belonged to Tom, his things did anyway, only served to fan the flames of Tom's misery.

He didn't want this, he realized. He didn't want to be torn between fear and desire, between his friends and his lover, between the past and the present. He wanted people to start treating him like he was human again, yet he was terrified of adding to the few people who already hated Chakotay for what he had done.

Tom couldn't see a way of breaking through everyone's reserve unless they realized he wasn't 'ill', yet he couldn't tell the truth without destroying the man he loved and thereby alienating himself from everyone anyway.

"I hate this," he snarled, throwing his cue down on the baize in disgust.

"Pool? Winning at Pool? Getting rich? Getting drunk?" Chakotay asked lightly.

"I am not fucking drunk, and I am not 'winning' either, you just are playing for shit. Naomi could play a better game than you," Tom complained.

Dark eyes flamed with embarrassed shame, making Tom feel a complete bastard.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to leave so you can play with Harry?" Chakotay asked mildly.

"NO," Tom shouted, then flinched as a couple of dozen interested faces swung around in response to his cry. "Let's both leave," he suggested in a quieter voice. "I can think of a ball game that you are definitely more talented at."

To his delight, Tom saw Chakotay flush a dark crimson and shyly duck his head. The thought that Chakotay had been a real, honest-to-god virgin until that lunchtime completely blew Tom away.

Sure Mad Chak had fucked like a proverbial rabbit, but Chakotay was a virgin. It was awe-inspiring to realize that he was the only person in the universe who had ever seen that gorgeous bronze face light up in the ecstasy of an orgasm. Humbling to know that his was the only ass that Chakotay remembered sheathing his cock.

And what a fucking, inimitable cock.

Tom hadn't really been joking when he said no-one else fit anymore. The idea of being fucked by anything less than Chakotay's cock was like settling for flying a shuttle after having been graced with the control of a starship.

It wasn't just sex though. If it was, he could have just written an amendment to one of the holocharacters to satisfy his urge. It would have been a hell of a lot safer that way. A holographic fuck-toy was the ultimate in safe-sex. Even the Captain preferred a hologram for her pleasure.

One that Tom had made for her, after all, so she could hardly say it was a set-back to his counseling if he chose to do the same.

Maybe he should make a couple of adjustments to Michael and let her know what she was missing.

Or maybe not. She still hadn't mentioned the fact that he had crippled the ship when he set off to rescue Chakotay and he didn't want to tempt fate. He preferred her in her "counselor" persona, even if she sucked at it.

He wasn't stupid. He *knew* that the handcuff idea must have come from Chakotay. Janeway just didn't have enough understanding of his relationship with Chakotay to have suggested that herself.

Which begged the real question of what the fuck was Chakotay playing at?

Whatever game it was, he played it better than pool for sure.

He loved Chakotay. That was the bottom line. He knew he did because he felt as sick at the thought of Chakotay not coming home on an evening as he felt terrified if he did.

But this wasn't Chakotay.

This was a shell of the man whom he had wanted to be loved by. A guilt-ridden man who hesitated before he spoke, whose confidence on the bridge fled him as soon as he entered Tom's quarters.

Tom had hoped that by mounting Chakotay himself he had proven that he wasn't as fragile as Chakotay thought, yet Tom had seen him from the corner of his eye as he had fought with Harry, had seen Chakotay shuffling on the spot, desperate to interfere, too frightened of upsetting Tom to even move.

As the First Officer he *should* have stepped in. A couple of Officers fighting in public was something that Chakotay should have felt able to break up. Instead he had been crippled by his terror of frightening Tom.

Tom didn't know whether he could face being vulnerable before Chakotay without his body taking over and forcing him to flee, but he couldn't spend the rest of his life with a lover who thought he was made of glass.

Even if he was.

No fear. That's what Tom wanted. He wanted to trust Chakotay. He didn't know if he could, if he ever would, but he couldn't keep playing these games, no matter how well meaning they were because it was destroying him to see the sorrow in Chakotay's eyes whenever he flinched.

The look of complete abject misery in Chakotay's eyes as he had voluntarily put the cuffs on his wrists was haunting Tom.

He knew it was different from his own imprisonment at Chakotay's hands and he knew that Chakotay *wanted* the humiliation of being tied up as much as he himself needed to feel safe. Even so, if didn't stop him knowing that it was wrong.

The thought of the handcuffs made Tom feel sick.

Not as sick as the thought of Chakotay killing himself though.

What if he refused to play the game any more and Chakotay saw it as the breaking of their bargain? What if he killed himself after all?

Maybe Chakotay *needed* the restraints. Maybe Chakotay had really meant it when he said that his persona as Mad Chak was just a way for him to release all the subconscious resentment about his sex-deprived existence.

Masks within masks, wheels within wheels. So many layers of disguises that Tom wasn't sure that he would ever see the real Chakotay. He had peeled away the mask of Mad Chak and found someone that he could love, yet what if it was just another mask? What if Tom ripped it away and found something even darker underneath?

And there was a tiny voice in the back of Tom's head that insisted that even if it was true, it wouldn't change the way he felt.

Unconditional love.

It sounded so fucking romantic until you thought about it and realized what it really meant. It meant that you would tolerate anything.

Would he stay with Chakotay if it was true?

Maybe, and even that realization was enough to make Tom's stomach churn.

"Are you alright?" Chakotay asked as all the color drained from Tom's face.

For a moment Chakotay's face floated in front of Tom's eyes, the image blurring so that he could see both the features of Mad Chak and Sad Chakotay as though each image was a translucent film resting over Chakotay's face.

"Let's go," Tom blurted and pushed his way out of the bar, letting a worried Chakotay trail in his wake. They were half-way back to Tom's quarters before Chakotay realized that Tom was walking with his back to him. Yet something in the set of the stiff shoulders told him that it was less an act of trust than Tom's need to keep Chakotay out of his line of vision at all. It was only when they reached Tom's door that Chakotay found himself back in front.

Chakotay paused a little way inside Tom’s quarters and pointedly waited for Tom to enter. Tom’s eyes flared with a little alarm at Chakotay’s failure to walk through to the bedroom and his attempt at a smile was more of a grimace.

It was only when the door closed behind him, and he found himself sandwiched between Chakotay’s solid frame and the door that Tom panicked. His breath shortened as his heart began to jump in his chest. He half-turned, the door sensors caught his movement and as Chakotay pressed his lips gently upon Tom’s mouth, the door opened so that they both staggered out into the hallway. Tom tripped, his flailing arms grabbing Chakotay and causing them both to collapse into an ungainly sprawl on the floor of the corridor.

"Good evening Commander, Lieutenant," Johansen chirped happily as he side stepped them.

Scrambling quickly off Tom, lest the pilot imagined that Chakotay had deliberately orchestrated their fall, Chakotay looked down in concern. Tom was choking, gasping for breath, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Tears of hysterical laughter.

"Did you see that?" Tom demanded, before another gale of laughter rocked his whole body. "It’ll be all over the ship by breakfast."

"And that’s funny?" Chakotay asked cautiously.

"It will be. By the time you return to Alpha shift tomorrow it will be general ship’s knowledge that you fucked me in the middle of a public corridor."

"But I didn’t," Chakotay said helplessly.

"What’s the difference? You’re going to fuck me in my bed anyway."

"I am?"

"Don’t you want to?"

"Are you sure you want me to want to?

Tom rolled his eyes.

"That is just about the stupidest conversation I ever had sober, Chak, and I refuse to say anything else except get your ass naked and in bed, now."

"Aren’t you sore?"

"A bit. Gonna get sorer though," Tom replied happily.

Chakotay, who mentally at least had only lost his virginity 5 hours earlier, was less certain it was a good idea but his cock definitely was standing at attention and ready to disregard the cautious whispers in his head.

He didn’t let Tom’s carefree attitude fool him. He obediently walked into the bedroom, stripped, climbed into bed and without waiting for Tom to mention it, he fastened one of the handcuffs to his left wrist. He leant back to fix it to the head board, only to be stopped by Tom’s voice.

"On your front, Chak.," Tom said quietly. "Please."

Chakotay’s cock deflated a little, but he made no protest as he fastened himself face towards the headboard. He stretched his right arm above his head so that Tom could cuff it.

He didn’t.

"You need one arm free, Chak," Tom drawled, only to ruin his projected aura of calm by suddenly bolting into the bathroom and hiding for several minutes, until he pulled himself back together.

Tom emerged from the bathroom naked, one hand clutching a towel, the other holding a bottle of oil.

"You want a massage?" Chakotay asked innocently.

Tom snorted.

"Hold that thought, big guy. But that’s *not* what I had in mind. The oil’s for lube and the towel is so I don’t end up sleeping in my own cum."

"You want me to make love to you?" Chakotay asked hesitantly.

Tom’s beaming smile faltered.

"Don’t say that," he whispered. "I want you to fuck me, that’s all. Nothing mushy. No romantic shit. I just want a fuck."

"What if I say I can’t do it, Tom? What if it has to be making love to you?"

"You fucking cheeky bastard. You’re several dozen rapes too late to tell me you have a problem with the idea of being a quick fuck," Tom yelled, his face twisting with fury.

"Tom. Before we went out, you said you loved me. Now you are saying I’m just a fuck toy? Which is it?" Chakotay asked reasonably.

"You’re not supposed to do this," Tom snapped. "You’re supposed to do as you’re told. I don’t want you to kiss me. I just want you to fuck me hard. Like you used to."

"You mean when I was sick?" Chakotay asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Tom nodded, his eyes blank.

"But I’m not sick anymore, Tom and I can’t do that anymore."

"You’ve still got a fucking dick, haven’t you? Just fucking use it," Tom growled.

"Tom, what’s wrong? What’s really going on here? You aren’t like this."

"How the fuck do you know how I am? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me."

"Yes I do. You want me to make love to you, properly, but you’re scared because I’ll have some control, so you’re asking me to just fuck you hard so that if I hurt you, you’ll be able to tell yourself that it was your own choice."

"Who died and made you God? You don’t know shit."

"Don’t I?" Chakotay asked.

"I HATE YOU," Tom screamed.

"That’s okay, Tom. You’ve got the right. What do you really want?"

Tom was silent for so long that Chakotay started to look nervously around for his comm. badge. There was something seriously wrong with Tom, he knew that much. The sudden mood swings, the blank dead look in his eyes. Something had really upset and frightened Tom but Chakotay hadn't the faintest idea what. He tugged helplessly at the handcuff, cursing himself for not realizing something was wrong before he had shackled himself so stupidly to the headboard.

"Talk to me, Tom. Please," he begged.

"I want us to be normal," Tom whispered eventually.

"Normal?"

"No games. No chains. No cuffs. No fucking retribution. I lied, okay? I fucking lied."

"Lied about what?" Chakotay asked gently.

"When I said I wanted to punish you, make you suffer. I lied. I just wanted to stop you killing yourself. I can’t live like this any more. I want you to leave. "

"You want me to go back to my quarters?"

"Yes," Tom said. "I don’t want you living here anymore."

"I don’t understand," Chakotay admitted. "Have I done something? Have I frightened you somehow?"

"I’m going to take the cuff off and then I want you to get the fuck out of my quarters. If you hurt me, then you had better make sure you kill me 'cos if you ever raise your hand to me again I’ll ask the Captain to space you myself," Tom snarled.

"Talk to me Tom. What's really happening here?" Chakotay asked in his gentlest voice.

"Don't fucking play counselor with me, Chakotay," Tom spat.

"Then tell me what's going on. You said you loved me. Then you asked me to fuck you. Now you are throwing me out? What did I do?"

"What didn't you do, you bastard? Oh, of course, you don't fucking remember anything do you? Well I do. I remember for both of us. So just fuck off out of my life."

"I'm not going anywhere Tom until I know what's wrong. I'll call the Doctor and Tuvok if you don't feel safe and you can tell us *all* what is going on in your head, but I'm not leaving you alone in this state."

Tom smirked nastily and dropped to his knees to rummage in a drawer. He gave a cry of triumph and pulled out Chakotay's own sacrificial knife.

"Remember this, Chak?" he asked, crossing his legs and running the blade experimentally along the thin white scars that still marred his left arm.

"Put the knife down, Tom. Let's stay calm, okay?" Chakotay said, pulling frantically against the handcuff.

Tom lifted the blade so that it glinted wickedly, its razor sharp edges sparkling even in the dimly lit bedroom.

"Tom, please honey, put the knife down."

Tom's eyes were glazed, opaque and dull as he lifted his head and smiled. Then he took the point of the blade and inserted it into the crook of his left elbow.

"Computer, Medical Emergency," Chakotay screamed as the knife sliced down Tom's forearm.

There was no response.

"What the fuck's wrong with the computer?" Chakotay howled as Tom began a parallel line.

"I turned it off," Tom replied dreamily. "This is our time, Chak. Just us. We don't want anyone coming in, do we?"

Chakotay went cold as he saw that Tom's face was completely blank.

"So what is this, honey? A suicide pact?" he asked softly.

Tom frowned in confusion, then began to laugh, only to abruptly silence himself, a look of outrage replacing his odd smile.

"I love you. I'd never hurt you. Never, ever hurt you. I don't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. You can't make me hurt you. I won't do it. I won't. I don't want to play this game with you any more."

"Tom, it's okay. I'm sorry. You're right. This has been about me, about what I want. Put the knife down. Let me go. We can work this out."

"No, I figured it out, Chak. I finally figured *you* out," Tom replied.

"What did you figure out, Tom?"

"Mad Chak and Sad Chak," Tom chanted, his mouth twisting with a strange smile under eyes that remained frighteningly blank.

"What?"

"You aren't Chakotay," Tom said as he examined his arm for the best place for the next incision. "See, I have my own tattoo now." he exclaimed, gesturing at the precision of the cuts. "It's a mask, like your masks. "

"What masks, Tom?"

"I'm not Tom. I'm Mad Tom tonight," Tom announced with a sly grin. "I'm playing *your* game. Mad's good isn't it? Mad's fun."

"It looks like mad hurts, Tom."

Tom blinked and looked down at the blood welling on his arm, then shrugged. "I like the pain. It's MY pain. I did it. I made it. It's mine."

"What the hell have I done to you?" Chakotay whispered. "Tell me about Mad Chak and Sad Chak," he said aloud. As he hoped, Tom lost interest in the blade temporarily as he thought about Chak's question.

Tom gave another sly grin.

"You tried to fool me. I nearly fell for it, but I figured it out."

"What did you figure out, Tom?"

"The real Chakotay. It's not you," Tom accused.

"So who is the real Chakotay?" Chakotay asked. A puddle of blood was spreading around Tom's crossed legs. Chakotay tried to convince himself that a small amount of blood always looked like liters when it was smeared on thighs and floor, but Tom's face was beginning to look frighteningly pale as the blood continued to trickle down his arm from three deep gashes.

"Before I was in the academy. Before I got thrown out, I mean," Tom laughed, "My dad said I was going to be a Captain, like Kirk himself, and then an admiral of course, but that didn't mean shit to me. Being like Kirk though, that was cool. He wouldn't even pass the current psyche tests. Did you know that? Some fucking progress."

"He was a maverick," Chakotay agreed, "but a hero, a great man."

Tom nodded. "Yeah, a hero."

"So what about Kirk?" Chakotay asked desperately as Tom started to look longingly at the blade again.

Tom looked up in surprise, his face twisting uncertainly as though he had lost his train of thought.

"He had a transporter accident," Tom finally remembered. "He got split in two. Bad Kirk and Good Kirk. Remember?"

Chakotay's heart sank. He understood. Spirits he understood. No wonder the realization had pushed Tom back over the edge once more.

"You're right, Tom," he admitted. Hell, what else could he do. He didn't want to face it either. He could feel the same pit of despair threatening to swallow him that had already swallowed Tom. "Kirk was split into two. All of his potential evil on one side, all of his goodness on the other. They had to merge the two together again to make him whole. He needed both sides of his personality to be a complete person."

Tom nodded sadly.

"You're broken Chakotay. I saw it today when I fought with Harry. You're like the good Kirk. You can't fight. You've got no confidence. You're just a shell. You're so busy being sad Chak that you aren't Chakotay any more."

"I can change, Tom. I can get my confidence back. If you're here. If you help me," Chakotay promised desperately.

Tom's eyes flared with alarm.

"You won't love me then though. You'll hurt me," Tom said sadly, "and I'll let you. That's why. It's not you, Chakotay. It's me. That's why."

"I don't understand."

"It's like you were wearing a mask, Chakotay. When you were Mad Chak, I mean. I kept seeing through it, kept seeing what I thought was the real Chakotay underneath, but it was just a different mask, wasn't it? "

"You think I'm wearing a mask now? Tricking you? Trying to lull you into trusting me?" Chakotay asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't think so. It doesn't matter though, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I told you. This isn't about you. It's about me."

"I don't understand, Tom."

"I love you, Chakotay. I need you. Really need you. I want to believe that if you hurt me I'd leave you. I want to be the kind of person who would have you arrested if you turned on me again. But I wouldn't. I realized that tonight. If you hit me, I'd make excuses for you. I'd say I walked into a fucking door or something. I'd never let anyone hurt you. See? You're safe with me. You know that really, don't you? You know I need you?"

"I swear I'd rather die than hurt you again, Tom," Chakotay assured him.

"I don't fucking care! Admit it. You know don't you?" Tom demanded.

"I know you're shit scared of me, Tom. I know you love me, and yes, I know I could hurt you and you'd never tell anyone," Chakotay admitted.

"That tempts you, doesn't it?" Tom accused.

"A little," Chakotay admitted, finally facing the demons in his own soul. "I've been so lonely, Tom. So fucking lonely. There *is* a part of me that could take without asking, demand without giving back. But it's in everyone. It was in Kirk too. It's in you, Tom. For Kirk it took a transporter malfunction to bring out that buried evil. For me it took a Cardassian viral weapon. Look at yourself, do you think cutting yourself is okay? Do you think it's less wrong to abuse your own body than someone else's? We all carry these bad things inside us. But we can chose NOT to let our bad sides win."

"Harry's right. Mad Chak *was* you," Tom mumbled.

"I know he was. Everyone knows he was. It's only you who wanted or needed to believe something else. *I* hurt you Tom, but I won't do it again."

"I'd let you," Tom admitted. "But I'd rather die than let you."

"So what have you got to lose, Tom?" Chakotay asked quietly. "You've made it clear to me that if I ever hurt you again, you'll kill yourself. Even if you can't trust me, do you think I'm stupid?"

"Huh?"

"If I hurt you, I lose you. Do you think I want to lose you?"

"No," Tom mumbled.

"Then let me go, Tom. Let me help you. Trust my intelligence if you don't trust *me*."

Tom looked dully at his arm.

"They'll take you away from me. They'll blame you. For this," he said, gesturing at his arm.

"Then we'll just have to make sure no one ever finds out, won't we?" Chakotay said.

"You won't tell?" Tom asked worriedly.

"I won't tell," Chakotay lied.

~~~

"Well, I guess that means I flunk as a counselor too, " Kathryn stated miserably. "I thought he was getting better. I didn't even have a clue that he was feeling this down."

"How is he?" Chakotay asked the Doctor.

"Still sleeping. He didn't wake up. He doesn't know you called me. I just checked that his vitals were steady and gave him something to replace the fluids he lost. He *should* be in sickbay."

"No," Tuvok stated firmly. "Releasing Chakotay and allowing him to regenerate the wounds was a major leap of faith for Tom. We cannot allow him to feel betrayed. He is too fragile mentally to understand that we all have his best interests at heart."

"It wasn't a suicide attempt," Chakotay stated.

"I agree, " the Doctor said. "He simply reacted to the stress of the situation. Once a behavior pattern such as self-mutilation has been established, the probability is high that the patient will revert to the behavior in times of stress."

"So he just had a relapse, you mean?" Kathryn asked.

"I disagree," Tuvok interrupted. "This was, in fact, a step forward for Mr. Paris. It is unfortunate that it was accompanied by such a dramatic demonstration of his psychological distress. It was, however, a breakthrough overall."

"How the hell do you figure that?" Chakotay demanded.

"He has finally reconciled his memory of 'Mad Chak' with his relationship with you. He no longer sees you as two different people."

"No, he sees me as three," Chakotay snapped.

"Your conclusion is flawed Commander. He now acknowledges that neither of the two personas that he is familiar with are the 'real' you. You are not the monster of his nightmares, yet neither are you the person that you are currently pretending to be."

"I'm not pretending," Chakotay objected.

"Yes you are," Kathryn said quietly. "Tuvok's right. You're over-compensating, being too nice, being too submissive. Tom instinctively knows it isn't real and is waiting for the bomb to drop. He's subconsciously expecting you to suddenly revert to the behavior of "Mad Chak" as he calls him. You have to show him the 'real' Chakotay, flaws and all. Everyone has a temper. Everyone loses it sometimes."

"You want me to lose my temper with him?" Chakotay asked incredulously.

"I want you to at least feel able to break up a fight in the holodec between two officers, " Kathryn said.

"Is that what this was all about?" Chakotay demanded helplessly.

"It is a logical assumption, Commander. Tom knew you were angry and concerned, As First Officer you *should* have intervened. Your failure to do so indicated to him that you were concerned that your reaction would be inappropriately violent so you restrained yourself," Tuvok replied.

"Tom has also faced an unpleasant truth about himself," the Doctor added. "He has acknowledged that his emotional attachment to you is so great that he would accept you treating him badly. Yet the idea of being abused by you is something that terrifies him."

"It isn't true," Chakotay stated firmly. "He is still confused about his reaction to being my prisoner. He's trying to find ways to forgive me, that's all. He's still trying to vindicate me. Now he's faced the fact that I *am* Mad Chak, he's telling himself that the abuse was something he would have allowed anyway. It's bullshit. He's stronger than that."

"What are you going to do?" Kathryn asked.

"I'm going to move back to my own quarters and start over with him," Chakotay said. "It's time to leave the past behind us. I tried it his way and it didn't work. Now I'm going to do it properly."

"Properly?"

"As equals. There's no other way. I'm going to be Tom's senior officer on the bridge and his lover, if he'll have me, off the bridge. I'm going to be the real me. If he pisses me off, I'm going to say so. If I piss him off, I want him to be able to tell me that too. He needs his own quarters back so that he can escape me if he needs to. And, with respect Captain, I think it's time he had a new counselor."

"I agree," Kathryn chuckled ruefully. "Any suggestions?"

"Me," Chakotay said bluntly.

"You can't," Kathryn protested.

"Think about it. It's a way for him to tell me things face to face that he can't manage in any other scenario."

"You think he can sit in your office and tell you about his problems with his lover, who just happens to be you?" Kathryn demanded

"He's used to the idea of me wearing masks, Kathryn. I know him. It will work. Hell, it can't do any more harm, can it?"

"There is a logic to it. I will require all sessions to be recorded however so that I can monitor the situation," Tuvok stated.

Chakotay nodded. "I agree. I am too close to the problem to be impartial. That way you are the counselor Tuvok. I am simply the face that Tom can talk to."

Kathryn rubbed her face tiredly. "We never covered situations like this in the Academy," she complained. "I agree to give it a try as long as Tom agrees."

"He already has," Chakotay said quietly. "We discussed it when I was regenerating his arm."

"He agreed?" The Doctor asked in obvious surprise.

Chakotay shrugged.

"It's his idea. There's a lot of things we have to talk about and he needs to feel safe as we do it. This way we separate our discussions of the past from our relationship," he explained.

"He knows you are moving out?"

"Yes."

"So what about your relationship?"

"He's invited me for dinner tomorrow night," Chakotay explained with a bashful shrug. "He won all my rations off me this afternoon so dinner is on him."

~~~

Chakotay shuffled uncomfortably under the Vulcan's expressionless gaze. He appreciated Tuvok agreeing to see him in his own time and quarters but he couldn't shake the belief that Tuvok secretly still bore a deep distrust of him.

The fact that Tom had been so distracted at the helm all day hadn't endeared Chakotay to Tuvok either. From the moment that Chakotay had resumed his seat on Alpha shift, the pilot had slowly gone to pieces, making a series of fortunately minor errors as his fingers slipped awkwardly over his console, as if the proximity of Chakotay to his exposed back seemed to reawaken all his recently buried insecurities.

How the hell could Chakotay convince Tuvok that he was the person who could restore Tom to confidence, when it was patently obvious to everyone that Tom was too shit scared of him to even sit with his back towards him?

"Human relationships are frequently unhealthy for at least one of the partners," Tuvok told him. "It is rare to find a couple who have reached true equality and trust. For Vulcans it is different. The Farr, the joining, of two mates enables us to know each other's thoughts so there is no dishonesty between us. This is why I cannot help you, Commander. The problem that you face is your inability to prove to Mr. Paris that you wish him no harm, and his understandable inability to trust you.

"Thus I cannot truly empathize with your position, but I do understand it. I have looked into your mind, Commander, have seen into your heart, and although I may appear to still distrust you, it is not true. Mr. Paris has not seen your heart. He cannot be expected to trust you, despite his obvious wish that he could do so."

"I know," Chakotay said quietly. "He wants to but he can't."

"It was my understanding that you were dining with him tonight," Tuvok said. "Have today's events on the bridge caused him to change his mind?"

Chakotay flushed. The way Tom had reacted to his presence must have made the whole bridge crew doubt that the dinner invitation still stood. Harry's look of pure furious disgust at Chakotay, as he had followed Tom's flight off the bridge the second the shift was over, hadn't helped, either.

"No, he already had arranged to play pool with Harry first. We're having a late supper together when he has finished. He sent a message to my terminal to confirm the time," Chakotay replied.

The fact that Tom had sent him a message rather than comming him only helped to confirm the fact that Tom was feeling uncomfortable with him, and he saw Tuvok's left eyebrow quirk a fraction as he digested that fact.

"So," Tuvok said eventually, steepling his fingers in thought, "what is it that you want from me?"

"I wondered whether it was possible for you to mind-meld with me *and* Tom, together," Chakotay confessed.

"It is possible," Tuvok agreed, "but I will not do it."

"Why the hell not? You just told me the problem is that Tom can't trust me. This way he can see into my heart."

"Are you sure that he will like what he finds?" Tuvok asked.

Chakotay swayed in his chair. "Now you wait a damned minute," he hissed. "You just told me that you had looked into my mind and you trusted me, and now you are saying that Tom can't?"

"What I *said*," Tuvok corrected, "was that Mr. Paris may not like what he finds inside you. You are not the person that he believed you to be. You have acknowledged that. The real Chakotay is a blend of both personas. The real Chakotay may not be a person that Mr. Paris wishes to be intimate with."

"I'll take that risk. This isn't about me and what I want. It's about Tom and what he needs, and what he needs more than anything is to feel safe."

"Self-deception is rarely a wise choice, Commander. You may be able to convince yourself that your motives are purely altruistic, but you don't fool me and if you link with Tom he will see through you too," Tuvok replied bluntly. "This continual self-effacing penitence may be helping you to reconcile your own guilt, but it is no more the real Chakotay than your actions when you were ill. You don't remember what you did. At some level you still do not even believe that you did it. Your guilt is laced with a large dose of understandable self-pity. Every time you see Tom react to you with fear, your guilt is balanced by an equal dose of resentment.

"You are being punished for things that you can't even believe you did, let alone remember. You are angry and resentful. You feel as much self-pity as you do guilt," Tuvok stated. "This is not a criticism, Commander. Your feelings are natural and inevitable. No one can blindly accept punishment that they do not truly believe they deserve, and although your mind accepts intellectually that you hurt Tom, your heart and memory do not really believe it because your behavior was so alien to the person you know yourself to be."

"You're saying that I am harboring feelings of anger and resentment towards Tom?" Chakotay demanded.

"It is a logical assumption."

"And so if Tom mind-linked with me he would see that anger, so it would do as much harm as good?"

"At this stage, yes. You need to reconcile your own emotions before you even contemplate sharing them with Mr. Paris."

"Am I dangerous, Tuvok? Am I really that person who hurt Tom?"

"In a way. The Vulcan term is Ni’var," Tuvok told him. "It represents the duality of all things, the two halves that make a unity. As you yourself have already realized, nothing that happened when you were ill was done by a separate entity. You were not possessed or controlled by an external force. All of your cruelty came from inside where your dark emotions live."

"It is understandable that you are frightened of expressing any negative opinions or reactions because of your fear of that dark side of your personality. It is also ultimately self-defeating. It is in that side of your duality that much of your strength lies. Your decisive nature, your natural aura of command, your strong personal beliefs and your ability to perform under duress all draw on that side of your personality. The other side of your duality, the caring, spiritual persona balances those strengths.

"Without recourse to your darker emotions, you cannot effectively function. Let me make an example. A child is being attacked. You can save the child by confronting the attacker. The motivation to interfere comes from one side of your Ni'var, the ability to interfere comes from the other. Mr. Kim calls it Yin and Yang. I believe your own people embrace the same idea, Commander."

"Ahsonnutli," Chakotay confirmed absently. "He's a bisexual being, a hermaphrodite, who blends the strength of a man with the wisdom of a woman."

Tuvok nodded. "Precisely. Whatever race or culture you encounter, you will find the same basic understanding that a person who does not balance both sides of their personality is just half a person."

"Look, Tuvok. I understand what you're saying, and I agree that there are some things I need to get out of my system, some petty resentments that I need to deal with. Even so, it's a bit self-indulgent under the circumstances, don't you think? My own minor resentments are pretty insignificant in comparison."

"If they are so insignificant, why have you felt unable to raise them, Commander?

"I haven't. I just don't think they need to be said. Tom's got enough to deal with already. Asking him would just cause more harm than good.

"Asking him what?" Tuvok asked.

~~~

"Why?" Chakotay demanded and then quivered slightly. It had seemed so much easier to say it to Tuvok. Now, with Tom's pale and frightened face in front of him, he cursed the Vulcan for convincing him to do this. Poor Tom had invited him over to supper. He was a guest in Tom's quarters, eating Tom's food. It was unforgivable to repay Tom's trust in this way.

"So, I guess this means no more Mr. Nice Guy, huh?" Tom quipped lightly, placing his cup down on the table with slightly shaking hands.

"I'm waiting for an answer," Chakotay reminded him as Tom stared desperately into his half-empty plate as though hoping for find the answer there.

"Fuck off, Chakotay. You're not my dad and at 2030 hours, in my own quarters, you aren't the First Officer either. Either change the subject or fuck off home," Tom spat defiantly.

"I want to know why, Tom. Why didn't you report me?" Chakotay repeated.

Tom's head jerked up and his frightened blue eyes met Chakotay's in disbelief, then he ducked his gaze once more, unable to maintain eye contact with the older man.

"I can't believe you're doing this. Get out. Get the fuck out of my room or I'll call security," he whispered.

"Why didn't you call security *then*, Tom?" Chakotay growled. "Why the fuck did you let it happen?"

Tom's mouth gaped open in disbelief and he finally raised wide, bewildered eyes to look at Chakotay's angry face. His stomach churned viciously as his whole body began to shake in fear.

"Don't ... don't yell at me," he pleaded weakly. His eyes tracked nervously between the table and the door as he clearly started to calculate the distance he would have to run if Chakotay lunged for him.

His fear only stoked Chakotay's anger further.

"Stop looking for an escape route, Tom and answer the fucking question," he snarled.

Tom took a torturous breath and tried to plaster an unconvincing smile on his obviously terrified face.

"Look, I'm sorry okay. I've pissed you off. I can see that. I don't know what I've done, but I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry. Now, can I leave?"

"We're in *your* quarters," Chakotay reminded him dryly.

Tom's tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

"Then can *you* leave?" he begged.

"Not until I've told you *why* I'm pissed with you, Tom," Chakotay growled.

Tom closed his eyes in resignation.

"Why are you pissed with me," he asked fearfully.

"I'll tell you why. Because you *let* me do it to you. You just rolled over and took it, didn't you? You could have stood up to me, reported me. I would have been arrested, The Doc would have discovered my illness, I would have been cured before I ever laid a finger on you. I wouldn't have had to spend the rest of my life looking in the mirror and seeing a monster," Chakotay accused.

Tom's eyes had flown open in shock half way through Chakotay's accusation and by the time the older man stopped talking, Tom was swaying so drunkenly that Chakotay thought he might literally faint. Tom's mouth worked silently, opening and closing as though each time he thought of a reply it disintegrated in his own throat.

Then something sparked in Tom's eyes, red blazed on his pale cheeks, and this time when he opened his mouth, his words emerged in a near scream.

"You bastard," Tom yelled, his face continuing to flush with rage. "You saying that it was all *my* fault?"

"No, no," Chakotay started appeasingly, that hadn't been the way he had meant it to come out. It hadn't been the way it had come out to Tuvok. Then he stopped and reconsidered. "Yeah, in a way, I think I am. You could have stopped me. You *should* have stopped me."

"Seems like you are forgetting your little buddies at Auckland, Chakotay. As I recall I had eleven months of their cocks up my ass before I even met your other buddies on Voyager. By the time you made your move on me I was so used to getting raped that the word no had kind of slipped out of my vocabulary," Tom spat defensively.

"Bullshit," Chakotay snarled. "I admit you had no choice about Auckland or the first few months on Voyager. But then it changed. You built a life. You made friends. Learnt some self-respect. It took me five years to move on you. Five years in which you should have put the bad stuff behind you and grown some balls. When I approached you that day in Sickbay and told you I had set Dalby up to rape you, you should have had my ass thrown in the Brig, and you know it."

"I was too fucking scared, you bastard," Tom howled.

"Yeah, you spend a lot of time being scared, Tom. Don't you think it's about time you grew some balls? Why don't you try being a man for a change, Paris?"

Chakotay barely saw Tom move. The younger man was around the table in a blur of motion that would have caught anyone else by surprise. Chakotay had spent too many years boxing to let the other guy get in the first blow though. He had plenty of time to evade Tom's punch.

He simply chose not to.

He almost regretted it when he heard Tom's knuckles snap against his jaw. The stupid bastard had *no* idea of how to fight. He should have gone for the nose, the cheek even. Instead he had just broken his knuckles on Chakotay's rock hard jaw. It took all of Chakotay's acting ability to convincingly collapse back onto the floor as though felled by the blow, and it was more by luck than judgment that Tom landed on top of him, his face creased with the pain from his split knuckles.

"Your hand okay, honey?" Chakotay asked as Tom groaned in pain, then he groaned himself as he realized he had given himself away.

"You bastard," Tom whispered into Chakotay's neck. "You wound me up on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well you seemed to find your balls at least," Chakotay chuckled, and to his relief Tom gave a hesitant laugh.

They lay like that for a few moments, Chakotay too aware of the way that their bodies were pressed together, from their heaving chests right down to their shaking knees. His own cock was so hard it was painfully grinding against his pants legs. Fortunately it seemed to have met a friend down there judging from the pressure that was grinding against his own hip.

He gently stroked Tom's back, relieved to feel the muscles unknotting under his soothing fingers.

"Do you really think I was a coward to let you do it?" Tom asked worriedly, returning to the subject matter of the original "discussion".

Chakotay cradled Tom's face between his hands and met his eyes so that Tom could see the sincerity in his own.

"I think that if you had defied me, you wouldn't have lived long enough to regret it. You did what you needed to do to survive, that's all. It's all very good for heroes of novels and vids to decide that death is better than dishonor, Tom, but all it means in real life is that you're a long time dead without even a chance of a happy ever after. Sometimes we make choices and we have to live with them, but that's better than giving up and taking the easy option.

"When I decided to kill myself, I told myself it was the noble thing to do. It wasn't. It was cowardice. It was my way of trying to run away from the consequences of my actions. You didn't do that, Tom. You could have chosen death too. You could have avoided all the pain. You were braver than me. You decided to face it and try and survive it. I respect that, Tom, and I respect you."

"Really?" Tom asked in a small, hopeful voice.

"What you went through in Auckland, what *I* put you through, I couldn't have survived it. It would have killed me. You survive everything. Your whole life has been one fucking nightmare after another and somehow you find the strength and the hope to get out of bed the next day and face whatever new shit is coming your way.

"That's why I can't bear to see you flinch from me, Tom. Not just because I love you and I hate the idea of your fear. I can't bear it because it's a lie. People look at us both and see me as the strong one and you as being weak. That is the greatest lie of all. You're *my* hero, Tom Paris. When I grow up I want to be just like you."

From anyone else the words might have seemed flippant or mocking. From Chakotay they were simply no more or less than the truth.

Tom looked at him silently for a long time, his blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"You mean that, don't you?" he finally whispered. "You honest to God really mean that! All this time you've been saying you loved me, but all I heard was that you pitied me. I never really understood what you were trying to say. You *do* love me."

"I do," Chakotay promised softly.

Tom sighed happily and rested his head trustingly on the older man's chest. The gesture, so small yet significant, allowed Chakotay to dare hope for the first time. Yet, as the minutes passed without any further words from the pilot, Chakotay began to feel worried once more. This time it was a personal, almost selfish fear, that now Tom felt less physically intimidated by him he would no longer need Chakotay's love.

"What about you, Tom? How do you feel about me?" Chakotay asked cautiously.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and gave a peal of laughter that rippled like a spring breeze across Chakotay's chest.

"Oh, it's just lust for me. I just fell in love with your cock," he joked.

Chakotay bit his lower lip and Tom stiffened in contrition, sure that his flippant response, intended to break the mood of introspection, had instead hurt the older man.

"Does that mean you don't like my ass?" Chakotay asked sadly. "Only I was hoping you might like that too."

Tom's mouth gaped open in surprise. He ran his tongue tentatively over his full lower lip in a sensuous movement that caused Chakotay's aforementioned cock leap up in an eager salute.

Tom shook his head.

"It's okay Chakotay, I *like* being the bottom in this relationship. I know you don't understand it, but I really get off on your cock. When you are in me I feel, hell, I feel...shit, I don't know, all I know is that when you aren't there any more I'm empty, like a shell. You make me feel complete."

For a moment, Chakotay was too choked to reply, he settled for squeezing Tom's fingers gently while he marshaled his thoughts.

"Don't you think that's kind of selfish, Tom?" he asked finally. He nearly laughed at the comically look of complete bewilderment on Tom's face. "Maybe *I* want to feel complete too. Why should you always get the best position?"

"Um, the first time kind of hurts, Chakotay and you're not getting any younger, are you? " Tom replied hesitantly.

"You saying I'm too old to fuck?" Chakotay asked, in mock annoyance.

"No I'm saying that your too old to get fucked up the ass for the first time without walking like a Borg tomorrow."

"That's okay. If you know I can't move without groaning, you might stop jumping around on the helm like a demented rabbit," Chakotay replied with a teasing smile.

"A demented WHAT?"

"Are we going to argue all night or are you going to fuck me, Tom? Because If I lie on this floor for much longer, I'm going to be too stiff to walk tomorrow whether you fuck me or not."

"Stiff. That's a nice word. I like that word," Tom smirked.

"Are you going to fucking do it, or what?"

"My, my, my. I'm going to have to punch you more often, Chak. Concussion agrees with you," Tom purred as he helped Chakotay to his feet and led him to the bedroom.

~~~

"What is it?" Chakotay asked.

Tom had seemed completely, and surprisingly, at ease as they had stripped together and tumbled into Tom's bed. They had kissed and hugged, their arms roaming each other's bodies as though discovering them for the first time, and there had been no mistaking the message of Tom's weeping erection.

Yet, as soon as Chakotay had fumbled inside Tom's bedside drawer and then presented the lube to him with a flourish, Tom had stiffened and pulled away from him, his face troubled. It wasn't an expression of fear, more one of concern, so Chakotay forced himself not to panic. He stilled on the bed in an attitude of submission, then changed his mind, sat up and took Tom gently but firmly into a rough embrace.

Only when he felt Tom's rigid body begin to relax once more did Chakotay attempt to find out what had gone wrong.

Tom ducked his head in embarrassment, only for Chakotay to place a gentle finger under his chin and force him to meet his eyes.

"Talk to me?" he pleaded.

For a moment he thought Tom would bristle and refuse, but then a sheepish smile crept over the younger man’s face and although he blushed, he answered.

"You know what you told me? About being a…um…a virgin? Well, I’m kind of one too when it comes to this. I mean I’ve never …um….never done it with a man like this," he explained.

"You mean you’ve never been on top?" Chakotay asked gently.

Tom attempted a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah, that’s me, never the fucker, only the fuckee," he quipped, but a shadow of his old fear flickered deep within his eyes as he said it.

Chakotay didn’t really want to ask the next question, but his conscience forced him to do it.

"And how many times have you voluntarily been the "fuckee" Tom?"

"Once," Tom whispered.

"Once?"

"The night we, um..you were..when I was…oh hell, you know when I mean," Tom blurted.

"The night I was restrained?" Chakotay asked, gently.

Tom bit his lower lip and nodded, his eyes brimming with the threat of tears.

"Would you prefer it if ..."

"NO," Tom shouted, then he flushed with fresh embarrassment. "No," he repeated more quietly. "I want us to make love," he whispered, "like real people do, only I don't know what to do."

"There aren't any rules about this, Tom. What do you *want* to do?"

Tom hesitated, his face going a little blank as he considered his options. Then a small smile crept back over his face.

"I want to fuck you," he admitted.

"Good," Chakotay grinned, then he turned over onto his front before Tom saw the fear that he was sure would be evident in his eyes. He pulled one of the pillows down and slid it under his own hips, knowing it would make it easier for both of them in that position, and then he reminded himself fiercely that he trusted Tom not to hurt him.

He felt Tom straddle his legs, bending down until his chest was lying tightly against his spine, and he momentarily wondered whether it was even possible for Tom to penetrate him from such a position.

To his surprise, Tom simply nuzzled him between his shoulder blades and then began a slow investigation of the back of his neck with his tongue. Despite his inner-tension, Chakotay felt it impossible to concentrate on the vulnerable position of his ass as Tom busied himself proving conclusively that the nape of Chakotay's neck was an erogenous zone.

As Tom worked his eager tongue in long lazy swirls, gradually traveling further down Chakotay's prone form, his hands incessantly stroking Chakotay's rib cage in motions that booth soothed and excited the older man, his cock left its own snail's trail down Chakotay's lower back.

Chakotay hissed in a combination of surprise and pleasure as Tom finally reached his ass and proceeded to give it the same wet attention with his mouth.

"Spirits, Tom. That feels so good," Chakotay moaned.

"Yeah, well it kind of puts an interesting slant on the phrase ‘kiss my ass’, doesn’t it?" Tom sniggered.

"Huh?" Chakotay asked, too lost in the myriad of tiny nerve-searing sensations that Tom was creating in his body to have heard Tom's words.

"Never mind," Tom mumbled as he nuzzled his face against the firm flesh of Chakotay’s muscular ass, using his tongue to lovingly swirl one letter after another. Then he stared at the rapidly drying saliva with disappointment, and started again, this time making the letters thicker and wetter.

"What are you doing?" Chakotay gasped, as he squirmed under Tom’s attentions.

"Writing my name on your butt," Tom admitted, "with my tongue."

"WHAT?" Chakotay roared, only the sound was laughter rather than irritation, a deep belly deep guffaw of pure delight. "Your *whole* name?"

"Nah, I tried that but your ass is too small. The ‘T’ dries out before I get to the ‘S’, so I decided to stick to ‘TOM’," Tom replied. "Guess where the ‘O’ fits?"

Chakotay lay there stunned. He had envisaged this moment many times, the moment that Tom finally took him. He had imagined Tom either fearful or angry, perhaps vengeful, definitely in tears. He had never once imagined that Tom would be playful.

"Fuckit. It’s disappeared again," Tom moaned as the silvery writing dried and evaporated from Chakotay’s slightly quivering cheeks. He reached for the long-forgotten lube and found inspiration.

"Ahhhh," Chakotay gasped in shock as the cold gel touched his skin. He felt Tom tracing the path that his tongue had taken earlier, using the nozzle of the tube like a pen.

"You going to just play with that, Tom?" Chakotay finally asked.

Tom’s eyes narrowed in annoyance and he deliberately squirted the remains of the tube against Chakotay’s anus. Chakotay yelped and almost dislodged Tom in shock.

"Oh, was that cold?" Tom asked in mock contrition.

"Bastard," Chakotay growled.

"Want me to rub the cold spot? Warm it up?" Tom crooned, scrambling back up Chakotay's body and flicking his tongue out to lick at the skin behind Chakotay’s ear, even as he slipped a digit into the mound of gel and rubbed gently at the buried opening.

For a moment, Chakotay tensed in fear, his whole body rigid as his buttocks clenched involuntary to repel the gentle invasion. Then, Tom licked the nape of his neck, deliberately tantalizing his new found sensitivity there, and Chakotay shivered so violently in reaction that Tom managed to slip a finger inside him before he stopped shaking.

"You okay with this," Tom asked, hearing the way that Chakotay was straining to breathe normally.

Chakotay wanted to say no. He felt vulnerable, uncomfortable and invaded. Before he could put his objection into words, Tom curled his finger and probed carefully. Chakotay felt something akin to a lightning bolt ripping through his groin and he arched his back in response, inadvertently drawing Tom deeper inside him.

"What are you doing? What *was* that?" he gasped.

"That, Commander, is your prostate," Tom replied, in a fair imitation of the Doctor’s voice. He stroked it again for emphasis, enjoying the way Chakotay jerked in response. He took advantage of Chakotay’s momentary distraction to slip a second finger inside.

Chakotay felt so tight and hot around his fingers that Tom wondered whether his cock could survive being crushed in its furnace. His cock wasn’t listening. It was game for a risk. It bobbed expectantly, dribbling with excitement, proudly saluting its intention to do or die.

~ ~ ~

Tom's fingers began to move more insistently as he developed a rhythmic punching inside Chakotay's rapidly dilating ass. He heard Chakotay's breathing change in time to thrusts of his fingers and dared to insert a third finger into the slick passage.

He felt Chakotay's buttocks clench in momentary fear, so he slid his left hand between the other man's legs and stroked tenderly at the skin of his tight ball sac. The response was instantaneous, Chakotay groaned, his whole body shook and he instinctively opened his legs wider to facilitate Tom's left hand, which caused his ass to relax and allow the fingers of Tom's right hand further inside.

"Take a deep breath," Tom whispered.

When he heard Chakotay comply with a shuddering gasp, he pushed in deeply, until his knuckles disappeared inside Chakotay's now welcoming passage, and he began to punch a little harder, curving his fingers to ensure he teased and caressed Chakotay's prostate on each withdrawal.

Chakotay shivered and moaned in reaction, his hips bucking upwards with each internal stroke, his cock now rigid against his own stomach as Tom's fingers sent snaking tendrils of fire through his body. He gave up his mental struggle against the pleasurable spell that Tom was weaving with his magical fingers and resigned himself to the fact that against all expectation he was actually enjoying being touched in this fashion.

Even so, the sensations only fired the aching need in his own cock and he had to struggle against the urge to turn around, wrestle Tom to the mattress and plunge himself into the pilot. His balls were so tight with need that he feared he would explode if he didn't find release. Chakotay crept his own right arm down the bed and began to slide it between the pillow and his groin, needing to relieve the pressure that was building up inside him with each maddening touch of Tom's eager fingers.

Tom used his left hand to slap Chakotay's ass firmly.

"That's MINE," he laughed. "Keep your hands to yourself."

The feel of Tom's hand striking his flesh, and the verbal denial of his cock's need, woke a slumbering demon inside Chakotay. For just a flickering splinter of time anger surged through him, temporarily blinding him as a black veil of pure fury descended over his vision. A wave of potential violence surged and rose within him, threatening to spill over into a mindless fury. He stiffened, his muscles tense, ready to turn and take what he wanted, his body throbbing as blood surged into muscles that rippled with his body's need to take control.

Then, as quickly as the aggression rose, it ebbed. The fire of his fury was extinguished by a wave of reason as he remembered that it was the man he loved who denied him and in the face of that love the potential violence was crushed into no more than a vague feeling of disquiet. The anger was banked, constrained, vanquished so easily by his feelings of love that it became just a vague, nebulous memory. He relaxed back to passivity, in control of himself once more, as Tom continued to play with him, seemingly unaware of the battle that had just taken place between Chakotay's body and mind.

Tom's left hand continued to trail swirling patterns around Chakotay's taut scrotum, his right hand punching mercilessly between Chakotay's quivering ass cheeks, and the combined sensations were sending wave after wave of shuddering reaction through the older man until the pleasure was almost painful in its intensity. Chakotay's cock was weeping and straining against his stomach and he writhed against the pillow, desperate to create a little friction against his groin.

Tom slapped him again. "Stay still," he warned.

"I can't, " Chakotay gasped. "I need more."

He was paused on the brink of a precipice of sensation, unable to hover there any longer without exploding. Again he warred with the conflicting need to either turn and ravage Tom or simply beg him for the mercy of release. The gentle side of his soul could not bear the thought of simply taking what he needed, yet his darker side violently rejected the idea of begging for what he could so easily take by force. He compromised by turning his plea into an order.

"Do it *now*," he spat through clenched teeth.

Tom's response was to withdraw his fingers completely, and Chakotay bit back a scream of outrage before nearly sobbing in frustration at the sudden loss of sensation.

Then he felt the blunt, wide head of Tom's cock pressing at his now painfully empty ass, and instead of the earlier fear, all he wanted, needed, was that wonderful feeling of being stroked inside.

"You ready?" Tom asked tentatively, pausing to slide a little more lubricant on his cock, just in case.

Chakotay chuckled, realizing he had been out-psyched by a master. In a matter of minutes he had gone from being terrified of being penetrated to being terrified that he wouldn't be, and the realization that Tom had cared enough to ensure his comfort was enough to chase any last vestiges of hesitation from his mind.

"Yes," he told Tom firmly.

Still Tom hesitated on the brink of action, remembering his own first time. He remembered the pain, the humiliation, the tearing of the delicate membranes of his ass. What if, despite his preparation, he hurt Chakotay?

"Spirits, Tom. Don't make me beg," Chakotay groaned.

Tom jerked in surprise. Was that what he was doing? Was it as cruel to stop now as it might be to continue?

"Take a breath," he murmured again, and slowly pressed his cockhead forward, pushing against the still too tight muscle of Chakotay's sphincter.

Tom felt a momentary resistance as the last vestiges of Chakotay's false pride caused his body to stiffen and try to repel its invader, then, as though a wall crumbled under his assault, he was through and Chakotay gave a deep gasp of shock.

Tom froze, rubbing soothingly at the skin in the middle of Chakotay's back, and waited for permission to move again. It took all of his self-control to pause there, waiting for Chakotay to adjust to his presence, when the need to plunge forwards and bury himself deeply inside the hot, tight sheath almost stole his ability to think. Yet, as much as his cock was screaming silently for satisfaction, Tom was equally aware that his own real ache was in his ass.

He understood the need for this joining, for this act which would somehow equalize them, yet all he really understood, as he paused awaiting Chakotay's compliance was that he really hoped that Chakotay would find it as unsatisfying to be the bottom as he was finding it to be the top. Then he flushed with shame, understanding the selfishness of that thought when Chakotay had trusted him enough to do this for him, and so Tom was suddenly determined to make this as good for Chakotay as he could, after all.

Chakotay gave a small grunt of compliance and Tom carefully inched forward a little more into the tight heat.

There was pain, Chakotay decided, a sharp almost indescribable sensation of being breached, and then the feeling of being stretched wider than he believed it possible to be opened without permanent damage.

Yet, after the first blaze of almost knifing pain, the sensation, while still uncomfortable, became tolerable and although there was no pleasure, neither was there any discomfort other than the psychological trauma of knowing that another man was entering him in this way. The tight pressure in Chakotay's groin waned as his erection wilted.

Still Tom continued to move within him, frequently pausing so that Chakotay could adjust to the ever increasing feeling of being filled and stretched past capacity, and when Tom finally stopped, fully embedded, his balls resting tightly against Chakotay's ass, the older man's first thought was of disappointment that this was all there was to something he had both dreaded and anticipated with an equal measure of terror and excitement.

It all felt a little anticlimactic now. Far less satisfying than Tom's finger or even his own hand on his now barely interested cock. He couldn't for the life of him understand why Tom would like this position. It certainly didn't do anything for him, Chakotay decided.

"You okay, Chak?" Tom asked, his voice cautious.

"Yeah," Chakotay replied, and his disappointment was so great that he almost sobbed the word.

Tom heard the note of sorrow in Chakotay's voice and almost withdrew completely. He couldn't continue if Chakotay was in pain, and he couldn't maintain his self-control much longer. He was trying to be considerate and gentle but his cock was aching with the need to move, to plunge, to take Chakotay with hard powerful thrusts. Tom knew if he started to move, he would be unable to be gentle. Maybe he should just stop now before he lost all self control.

Maybe he should just confess to Chakotay that what he really wanted, needed, was to be lying in Chakotay's position.

"You want me to stop?" He asked Chakotay, careful to keep the hope from his voice.

Chakotay heard the tightness of Tom's voice, assumed it was due to disappointment and realized he was being selfish. So okay, maybe he wasn't cut out to be a 'bottom' but so what? That wasn't enough reason to deny Tom his own pleasure.

"I want you to fuck me, Tom," Chakotay said firmly. "I want to you fuck me hard, so I can feel you moving inside me."

"You sure?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Chakotay almost roared, deciding if Tom didn't make his mind up soon he was going to call a halt to the process himself.

But Tom didn't wait for Chakotay to change his mind. He pulled almost completely out of the tight embrace of Chakotay's slick passage and then thrust back in, this time in one fast, almost brutal, movement and the unexpected feeling of Chakotay's tight internal muscles rippling over his cock as he plunged inside almost made him come on that first stroke. The sensation was so unlike that of fucking a woman, Tom realized. The embrace was so much hotter and tighter as he forced himself into the slick passage and felt his shaft being clenched and caressed by the undulating walls of flesh.

"SHIT!" Chakotay yelled, a wave of liquid fire exploding through his whole body, as Tom rammed home.

"Did I..." Tom began, terrified he had hurt the older man.

"I don't know what you did, Tom, but do it again," Chakotay replied breathlessly.

Tom didn't need to be asked twice. He began to glide within the other man, his biceps straining as they took most of his body weight so that he could twist his hips with each entry, angling each thrust at Chakotay's prostate, delighting in the groan of pained pleasure that accompanied each down stroke.

As Chakotay writhed and twisted beneath him, his sobbing gasps punctuating the brief pauses between Tom's thrusts, the younger man almost drowned in the unexpected waves of pleasure that ripped through his body. Yet he was still aware at some level that as blissful as these feelings were, it was not as wonderful, perhaps, as being the recipient of Chakotay's attentions.

Which reminded him, belatedly, that he was completely ignoring Chakotay's own needs. He pulled almost brutally at Chakotay's hips, dragging him upwards onto his hands and knees. The movement was so sudden and fierce that the older man howled as Tom sank impossibly deeper into his ass.

For a moment Chakotay panicked, sure he would be ripped apart by the invader that surely threatened to split him in two. Then he felt Tom's arm slide around his waist and long fingers wrapped themselves around his cock, stroking with a frantic, almost painful rhythm.

Chakotay's fear was forgotten as the new sensations drove him back to the brink of madness and he abandoned himself to pleasure as Tom's hand moved deftly up and down his cock, stroking it in time to his own thrusts.

Harder and faster, Tom drove himself into Chakotay's body, his eyes blinded by the perspiration that poured down his forehead, the sounds of his slick thighs slapping against Chakotay's ass almost lost in the roaring beat of his own pounding heart,

"I can't, can't.." Tom gasped, as his balls tightened in warning, but was unable to even complete the sentence without it becoming a reality.

He couldn't wait, couldn't hold back any more. He froze, knowing that even the slightest movement would make him erupt. His fingers slid up and down Chakotay's thick cock, frantically trying to bring him to completion ,so that they would come together.

Chakotay stiffened and then bucked beneath him, bellowing as he erupted a geyser over Tom's hand. A series of violent shudders rippled though Chakotay's body as he came and the savagery of the undulating flesh, as it clenched and milked Tom's deeply embedded cock, ripped away at the last of Tom's self-control.

Tom stiffened, trying to resist, wanting to prolong the moment, instinctively knowing that this was not only the first time he had topped Chakotay but, despite their mutual pleasure, was almost certainly the last.

Yet Chakotay's whole body was demanding his obeisance, the offering of his essence, the homage of his cock to Chakotay's ass. The clenching, hungry muscles were impossible to refuse. Even in this, when Tom had imagined he had some autonomy, Chakotay's body quickly overwhelmed and defeated him.

He gave a last, almost desperate, thrust into Chakotay's ass and came with a scream of combined pleasure and defeat, emptying himself inside Chakotay with a series of deep, grunting thrusts before collapsing so heavily onto Chakotay's back that they both crashed to the mattress in a boneless, gasping quiver of sweat-drenched flesh.

~~~

When Chakotay woke, he was alone.

The emptiness of the bed shocked him into instant alertness and he jerked upright, only to groan at the sharp ache that shot through his bowels. He reached down gingerly and touched himself. Tom had been right. He *was* sore as hell, but at least when he pulled his fingers away from his abraded ass, they came back spotted only with the faint trace of Tom's semen mixed with a little of the copious amounts of lube Tom had used.

"Tom?" he called out, only to mocked by the echoing silence of Tom's quarters.

He hauled himself to his feet and staggered towards the door of the bedroom. A quick glance at the empty living quarters and he hurried to the bathroom. He told himself he needed to use the head, and there was such a sudden pain in his kidneys that it might even have been true, but as he pushed the door open, his mind was swirling with panic at what he might find inside.

The bathroom was empty. No blood. No sprawled corpse. Instead of feeling relieved, Chakotay's mind spiraled into a different avenue of panic. Perhaps Tom had fled to find a more secluded, private place to harm himself. Perhaps he had run in fear that Chakotay would exact some retribution for the ache in his ass. In the cold light of morning, perhaps Tom had conveniently forgotten that Chakotay had demanded to be fucked and now was terrified that he would be angry.

Deciding to just piss and then run after Tom, too panicked to even think of asking the computer for a location check on the pilot, Chakotay entered the bathroom and froze.

There was a data padd propped on top of the toilet lid.

Hesitantly, Chakotay reached forward and read the display. Then he released the breath he'd hardly been aware of holding.

'Sorry to run out on you, but I wanted to have breakfast with Harry and you looked so tired, I decided to let you sleep…love you, Tom.'

"Computer," Chakotay called out. "Location of Lieutenant Paris?"

"Lieutenant Paris is in the Mess Hall," the disembodied voice replied.

Chakotay grinned. He felt a little guilty that he had automatically checked Tom's story, but he'd needed to *know* that Tom hadn't run off and cut his wrists.

It wasn't just personal relief that Tom hadn't reacted badly to their lovemaking that made Chakotay smile, though, or even the 'love you'. It was the fact that this was the first time since Tom's incarceration at his hands that Tom had gone to breakfast in the Mess Hall. Hell, maybe Tom was even actually eating something.

It was surely a sign that Tom was taking the first hesitant step towards some form of healing.

~~~

For the next week, they kept a form of holding pattern. Tom was noticeably more at ease at the helm, he joined Chakotay for most meals and they slept together each night, so that it was almost as though Chakotay had moved back into Tom's quarters.

By an unspoken agreement, their bedroom roles reversed back to Tom being the recipient of Chakotay's attentions, but Chakotay took great pains to let Tom always call the shots. He always waited for Tom to initiate their lovemaking and was always carefully attuned to the slightest sound of discomfort that Tom might make.

He treated Tom as though he were the most precious and delicate treasure that he had ever found, never allowing his own urges and desires to dominate their coupling lest he shattered the fragile truce between them.

It was frustrating at times to have to always remember that the smallest loss of control might terrify Tom. The more time Chakotay spent with the pilot, the more he found him irresistible and the harder it became to keep his passion under check.

He over compensated by detaching himself completely from their love-making. It was agonizing to touch Tom like that, to devote every part of his body to worshipping Tom's without ever allowing himself to feel the pleasure himself. It hurt, but Chakotay welcomed the pain as just another of the punishments he deserved to bear.

Chakotay's constant, unfailing gentleness was gradually breaking down Tom's fear. Tom no longer flinched when Chakotay reached for him, no longer trembled at the helm when Chakotay sat behind him.

Tom was beginning to smile again.

Only there was something wrong with the way the expression lay on Tom's face. Something false and forced about his attitude. Despite Tom's more relaxed air, Chakotay was becoming increasingly convinced that Tom's smiles were just a new mask for him to hide behind.

Assuming Tom's smiles were a defense mechanism intended to ensure the harmony of their relationship, Chakotay found himself responding by detaching himself even further from his emotions to ensure that he always remained placid and calm in Tom's presence.

He was determined that Tom would never have cause to fear him again.


~~~

"You are experiencing a natural fear of destroying this status quo," Tuvok said dispassionately, when he met with Chakotay to discuss Tom's progress during his counseling sessions.

Chakotay flushed but nodded his agreement.

"I *know* Tom isn't happy," he admitted. "Not really. He makes all the right noises. He's truly affectionate and always insists that he wants me in his life and in his bed, but there's something wrong, something he wants from me that I'm obviously not giving him."

"In his counseling sessions he is being far more open with you than he was with either myself or the Captain. He is now able to discuss his tendency to mutilate himself in times of particular stress. He also is acknowledging that you are the person who hurt him. He has found the courage to condemn your treatment of him to your face, without allowing it to affect his current perception of you."

"I know," Chakotay agreed. "The sessions are going better than I expected. Too well."

"Explain," Tuvok demanded.

"He is telling me what we all want to hear in the sessions, just as he is pretending to be happy when we are alone together. He knows you record the sessions, Tuvok. He's just playing the game of happy, well-adjusted ex-victim to ensure that he is allowed to keep seeing me."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

"Yes," he agreed. "That is my interpretation too. It does not invalidate the sessions however. It proves that his main motivation is still to maintain a sexual relationship with yourself, despite the concern of the Captain and myself. The question is why he is doing that if, as you suggest, the relationship between you is unsatisfactory."

"I didn't say it was," Chakotay protested. "It's just hard. Of course it's hard. I have to second-guess everything I do or say in case I frighten him."

"Do you?" Tuvok asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You are still deceiving him. You are still attempting to be the person you think he wants, rather than being honest."

"Dammit, Tuvok. I kidnapped him, beat him, raped him, tortured him. Nobody just forgets that kind of thing. I know he wants to forgive me and for some reason he thinks he loves me, but we both know his feelings aren't real."

"I did not realize that your opinion of Mr. Paris was so low," Tuvok replied coldly.

"What?"

"You have just said that you believe his feelings for you are imaginary. That implies a certain degree of contempt. Perhaps he is unhappy because you show so little trust in *him*."

"What gives you the right to say that? You know nothing about our relationship," Chakotay replied defensively.

"In my opinion, your inability to be honest in your behavior to him is as much an indictment of his judgment as it is of your own self-doubts," Tuvok replied. "You say that you love him, yet you do not trust him even to be able to make his own decisions about who he does or does not feel affection towards."

Chakotay was silent for a long time, chewing over Tuvok's words, trying his theory out for size.

"That's not it," Chakotay answered, eventually. "It's not that I don't trust his love. I simply don't trust his instincts, because the very fact he loves me proves that he doesn't understand who I really am."

"Then perhaps it is finally time to show Mr. Paris the real Chakotay," Tuvok suggested.

~~~

"I love you, Tom Paris," Chakotay murmured.

They had just made love. It had been sweet, gentle and Tom had come in his hands with a ragged cry and then had clung to him, pressing his head into Chakotay's chest as though burrowing for comfort.

To an observer, their union would have seemed the slow, tender touching of two long familiar lovers. Tom had responded eagerly at first to Chakotay's touch, had opened himself easily to Chakotay's entrance and had moaned in all the appropriate moments.

Chakotay, however, had once again soon received the distinct impression that Tom was merely going through the motions with him. No sooner had Chakotay come and withdrawn than Tom had given a definite sigh of relief, as though he was glad the ordeal was over. Yet, he had then clung to Chakotay as though he wanted to crawl under his skin.

"I love you too," Tom replied sleepily, but even his tiredness couldn't completely mask the faint sound of disappointment in his voice.

Chakotay twisted until Tom was in his arms and their faces were just inches apart. He ran his hands down Tom's back, feeling the damp hot flesh of Tom's muscles twitching eagerly under his touch, and he pushed forward so that their groins touched. He ground suggestively against Tom's hips, and felt Tom's spent cock spring back to life with dribbling eagerness.

Tom's expression remained remote, however, as though his body was responding of its own volition, while his mind remained separate and untouched.

Chakotay regarded him worriedly. What the hell is going on in Tom's head? he wondered. Tom didn't seem frightened of him. He wasn't agreeing to make love due to fear. It actually seemed as though Tom was almost bored by the whole experience, as though he was only accepting his participation in a distasteful sexual act as being the price of having Chakotay in his bed.

Horrified, Chakotay began to pull back. He wasn't going to allow Tom to whore himself just because he needed the comfort of a hug.

"You want me to leave?" Chakotay asked softly.

Tom's response, rather than the usual frenetic denial, was just to give a tired shrug as though it made no difference to him either way. His apathy both bewildered and alarmed Chakotay.

"What's wrong?" Chakotay asked, in his most gentle tone.

"Nothing," Tom replied dispiritedly, refusing to meet Chakotay's eyes.

"So shall I go or stay?" Chakotay said, although he was already deciding that he wasn't leaving Tom alone in this obvious state of depression. He decided that if Tom didn't want him here, he'd call Tuvok to come over instead. There was obviously something seriously wrong here and Tom couldn't be trusted in this state of mind.

"Whatever," Tom replied miserably. "Do what you want. You always do."

Chakotay reared back in astonishment, his concern now mingling with the first stirrings of anger. He'd done nothing tonight, or any other night for that matter, except touch Tom with gentle respect.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" he demanded.

Tom flinched a little at the tone of his voice. It had been a long time since Chakotay had spoken to him in anything except the placid, non-judgmental tone that Tom had privately begun to consider being Chakotay's counseling voice.

He could feel his stomach starting to tangle in knots at the faint aura of danger that he was inviting into his own bedroom by admitting his own unhappiness. The fear felt good though, in a strange way. It was a relief to finally see *any* real emotion on Chakotay's face. Even so, he kept his voice low and free of accusation as he replied.

"I'm too tired to play games with you, Chakotay," he said quietly. "I can't take this anymore."

"You can't take what anymore?" Chakotay asked, desperately trying to rein in his panicked anger.

"You pretending you want me," Tom whispered. "I know you're trying to be kind or something, but it's not helping, it's just making it worse."

"Pretending?" Chakotay asked, completely dumbfounded.

"It's like I'm not really here," Tom said sadly. "I want, I *need* more than your pity, Chak. I want you to love me. This isn't enough any more. I thought it would be. I thought I'd take you anyway I could have you. But I can't."

"Why do you think it's pity, Tom?"

"Because you don't FUCK me," Tom spat. "There's no passion, no love, just - just this - this CRAP!"

"CRAP?" Chakotay roared.

Tom scooted back on the bed in terror, grabbing a pillow and hugging it as though it would shield him against Chakotay's outrage. Yet, although tears began to pour down his face, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were flashing with the same anger that he had revealed when he had punched Chakotay the week before.

"I don't want to be your pity fuck," Tom choked, between bitter sobs. "You touch me like I'm not really here, like it's a chore, like you're not even in the same room as me."

Chakotay looked at Tom's frustrated tears in astonishment. Then Tuvok's words came back to him and the realization of his terrible error made his heart ache with sorrow and guilt.

Tom was right. He hadn't been passionate, hadn't shown any lust or desire. He had touched Tom as though their love making was no more than a ritual to be observed. But it wasn't because he didn't feel the passion. It was because he was terrified of letting it loose, of releasing that darker side of his nature, of letting Tom see the real Chakotay without the safe veil of his iron self-control.

With a sinking feeling, Chakotay realized he'd run out of places to hide. Tom had recognized his behavior as being an illusion and was no longer willing to accept the charade Chakotay had been offering him. Tom wanted to be loved, deserved to be loved, wholeheartedly and with passion. The problem was that Chakotay was pretty damn sure that when Tom discovered the price of Chakotay's passion he'd decide, naturally enough, that it was too high a price to pay.

Chakotay had entered his relationship with Tom as a mental virgin. He had no memories of sex with either Simon or Tom during the time of his illness, yet he instinctively knew that he wanted more than the current relationship they shared.

Whenever he entered Tom, despite his extreme care and gentleness, he had to fight constantly against an instinct that told him to simply ram himself inside the younger man and take possession of his body. As soon as he touched Tom, a fire raged inside him, a burning need to dominate and possess the body beneath him, and he was so terrified of that inner fire that he quenched it with a cold, almost clinical detachment.

He had thought his self-control had proved his love for Tom. Instead it was obviously convincing Tom that he had no love at all.

Tom was right in a way. Guilt would keep him at Tom's side for as long as the pilot needed him, but one day, eventually, Chakotay would have to move on and find someone who could satisfy the growing urge of the fire inside him. The fact that Tom's fragility was Chakotay's own fault, only made the acceptance that Tom was incapable of fulfilling his desires more bitter and guilt-ridden.

Despite his own horror of the dark voice that whispered in his head, Chakotay knew that what he wanted and needed out of a sexual relationship was more than Tom was likely to be ever prepared to offer. Mentally Chakotay was already preparing himself for Tom's eventual rejection.

Perhaps it was time to be honest, time for him to show Tom the *real* Chakotay, as Tuvok had suggested. He knew it would terrify Tom, would drive him away from him, and the pain of that knowledge was so terrible that it was like a knife twisting inside his guts, yet he owed Tom the chance to move on and get over him.

He was no good for Tom, and perhaps the sooner Tom understood that, the better it would be for both of them.

"You're right, Tom. I haven't been completely honest with you. I've tried to be what you wanted me to be. It hasn't satisfied me, and it seems that it obviously it hasn't satisfied you either," he confessed.

Tom gave a brittle smile. "So you want to leave?" he asked, cringing slightly, his face twisting as though he was fighting tears.

"No," Chakotay replied. "I want to fuck you, Tom."

Tom just shrugged his compliance and closed his eyes as though he couldn't bear to watch his own body receiving Chakotay's dispassionate attention again.

"I SAID," Chakotay repeated, enunciating each word clearly. "I want to FUCK you. I don't want to 'make-love', I don't want to kiss you, and watch your face carefully for pain or fear, too terrified of making a wrong move and upsetting you to let go of my self-control. I want to take you on your hands and knees and fuck you 'til you howl."

To Chakotay's surprise, he saw Tom's cock jerk in response even before Tom's eyes flew open in shock. There was a momentary flash of fear deep within the blue, then Tom's eyes darkened perceptively. Chakotay decided his words hadn't truly sunk in, so he continued.

"See. You're right, Tom. I *have* been playing games. Not to hurt you, but to protect you. I didn't think I had the right to ask you to trust me after everything I did to you, so I've never been truly honest about what I want."

"What do you want?" Tom asked, chewing nervously on his lower lip.

"I told you. I want to fuck you through this mattress," Chakotay admitted, and waited for Tom to yell in outrage.

Tom's only answer was to lick his lips and then submissively open his legs in silent invitation. Chakotay's breath caught with the intense mingling of his desire with his complete shock. He'd expected Tom to go crazy, call security even. Instead, Tom actually seemed genuinely turned on for the first time in days.

"If we do this, if I let go and show you how I really feel about you, it's not going to be safe and gentle, Tom. It's going to be real and I might accidentally hurt you," Chakotay warned.

Tom's eyes simply widened and dilated further. He groaned and whimpered, writhing in response to the dark promise of Chakotay's words.

"I swear I won't humiliate you, that you can trust me, that I would never deliberately cause you any pain" Chakotay clarified, as Tom's chest heaved with a mixture of excitement and fear. "But it's time for honesty between us, and it seems that I want, I *need* certain things."

"What things?" Tom gasped, his face twisting with the first signs of genuine fear, even as his erection engorged so much that it prodded Chakotay in the stomach.

"I love you Tom, and I would rather spend my whole life just making love to you as we have been, rather than risk losing you. But if you want my passion, I want, no I *need* to know it's okay if I'm a little rough. I don't want to hurt you or humiliate you, or beat you, but if this is going to work between us, and I want it to, you have to accept that I need to be able to show you how I feel without being constantly terrified that you'll over-react if I'm a little forceful."

Tom's face flushed with uncertainty and he tried to push himself off the bed. He wanted a little space to figure out the confusion in his own head, to separate the fear from the undeniable fact that Chakotay's sudden offer of a darker, wilder sex was making his own blood surge with excitement.

Chakotay almost let him go. He changed his mind when he saw Tom's almost painfully aroused cock and realized that while Tom's mind might be rejecting Chakotay's offer, his body was unmistakably reacting favorably. He reached out, snagged Tom around the waist and pulled him back onto the mattress. Tom snarled and struggled in his grasp, but his eyes were dark with more passion than terror, and his ragged breathing seemed due more to excitement than fear.

Chakotay pinned Tom easily, using his greater body weight to trap Tom in place, yet he kept his hands gentle around Tom's wrists and bent to kiss softly at Tom's nipples before continuing.

"Shuussh," he soothed, nibbling at Tom's chest, teasing Tom's flesh with just the edge of his teeth.

Tom groaned and arched helplessly, his body responding eagerly to Chakotay's mouth.

"You want this, don't you?" Chakotay asked softly, as he saw the truth of his words written in every heaving line of Tom's body. "This is what you really want. You want me to fuck you hard, don't you? You want me to make you mine."

Tom shook his head in frantic denial, yet as Chakotay slid between Tom's legs, he felt Tom's hips shift and open wider, wantonly inviting Chakotay to continue his assault.

"Trust me," Chakotay whispered.

Tom whimpered, closing his eyes. Chakotay could see the damp trace of tears on Tom's eyelashes and he paused, suddenly uncertain. Just because Tom was obviously physically turned on by the idea of being taken a little more forcibly didn't mean he was mentally ready to accept his body's desire. Given his former treatment at Chakotay's hands, maybe he'd never be ready. Just because Tom seemed unable to say no, it was no reason to assume that he was saying yes.

"Do you want me to stop?" Chakotay asked sincerely. "Do you want me to leave? Have I gone too far? Am I taking advantage of you?"

For a heart-stopping moment, he waited for Tom to scream at him to leave. Instead, Tom's legs wrapped themselves hungrily around Chakotay's back and pulled him closer.

"Do it," Tom whispered, a flush of shame tingeing his cheeks.

Instead, Chakotay bent down and licked gently at the salt-tears that were trickling freely down Tom's face.

"I said fucking do it," Tom spat, his eyes flying open. "Just fuck me, you bastard."

Chakotay shook his head sadly and reared up, letting go of Tom's wrists and forcing Tom's legs to drop back to the bed..

"I'm sorry, Tom. This isn't going to work, is it? I really hoped you wanted it like this, that you finally understood me."

Tom's face filled with panic as Chakotay pulled away.

"I do. What do you want me to do? Fucking BEG you?"

Chakotay gave a rueful chuckle that ended in something suspiciously like a sob.

"Yeah, I suppose I do, in a way," he admitted. "I want you to beg me to fuck you hard, I need to know you want it, want me, the way that I am. What I can't handle is the fact that you are obviously ashamed of wanting me to do it."

Tom flushed and dropped his gaze to the bedcovers.

"It's hard," he whispered. "What you said before, about me just letting you hurt me when you were Mad Chak. It was kind of true. At the end, at least, when you thought I was Simon. If I'd known you were seeing *me* when you fucked me, everything would have been different."

"Different how?"

"I wanted to be Simon," Tom admitted. "I still do. I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to want to own *me* the way you wanted to own *him*."

"I don't understand."

"I fucking know THAT!" Tom replied, his voice rising into a near scream. "I know you like rough sex, Chakotay. Mad or not, your body knows what it wants. So does mine. I knew exactly what I was asking for when I got into this relationship with *you*. I just hate myself for wanting it. Who's the crazy one now, huh?

"It's all I think about. The way you held me down and fucked me senseless. I hated the fear, the pain, the way you treated me like shit, but the sex, I fucking loved the sex. I don't want to fuck *you*, Chak and I don't want you to treat me like I'm going to break when you fuck *me*. I want you inside me, fucking my brains out until I can't walk. Only," and he paused and gave a heavy sob.

"Only what, Tom?"

"Only I want you to see ME when you do it, you bastard," Tom demanded, his voice ending in a wail of agony.

Chakotay's heart constricted at the agony in Tom's voice. He'd been so blind, so self-absorbed, so wrapped in his own guilt and shame that he hadn't seen what was right before his eyes. Tom's self-mutilation finally made sense to him. Tom didn't simply hate himself for falling in love with his captor, he loathed himself for enjoying the sex despite his captivity. In the midst of the terrible things he had done to Tom, Chakotay had also inadvertently pushed sexual buttons that Tom's body now craved.

No wonder Tom was confused and filled with self-loathing. He, Kathryn, Tuvok and the Doctor had been busily telling Tom that everything that had happened to him had been wrong, disgusting, a horrific abuse, and of course it had been. Yet, it didn't mean that Tom's feelings were invalid, or that the same physical pleasure couldn't be found within a loving relationship.

"It is you, Tom. It's you here in bed with me, your body driving me out of my mind with lust. You, Tom Paris. Why do you think I've been holding back? It's because I can't trust myself not to just go crazy if you let me touch you that way. I want you so much that I'm scared that if I start really fucking you, I won't be able to stop."

"Oh, God," Tom gasped. "Do it, Chak. Just do it, please. Show me I'm the one you really want. Call *my* name out when you take me. That's all I want. That's all I ever wanted. For you to want me the way you wanted Simon. I want you to love me with that kind of passion. You all said I was crazy. That I had Stockholm Syndrome. That wanting to feel you touching me like that was just proof I was as ill as you were. I thought all I needed was a proper relationship with you and I'd forget the bad stuff. Only...."

"Only?"

"Only it wasn't all bad. That makes me sick too, doesn't it? I dream about it, you know. Dream about the way you just threw me down and fucked me, and I miss it, I want to feel that again and at the same time, I hate myself for feeling that way. I hate myself for being so fucking pathetic that I miss Mad Chak."

"You don't," Chakotay replied gently. "You just discovered that you liked the feeling of being dominated sexually. There's nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with you. It doesn't mean you agreed with any of the rest of it. It doesn't mean you're any less a man. It doesn't change anything else in your life. It just means in the privacy of our bedroom you want me to do all the hard work."

"WHAT?"

Chakotay just grinned.

Tom looked at him in complete disbelief and then a slow, reluctant smile crept over his face.

"Bastard," he said, but it sounded more like an endearment than a curse.

"We okay?" Chakotay asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Tom replied quietly.

"So, can I fuck you now?"

Tom gave a bark of laughter, his eyes dilating immediately.

"Yeah," he purred.

Chakotay reached down and squeezed Tom's fingers gently as he bent forward to capture his lips. They yielded immediately, allowing Chakotay's tongue to thrust between them and plunder hungrily. Tom began to wrap his legs around Chakotay's waist once more and Chakotay pulled back out of the kiss.

"No," he said.

"No?" Tom asked plaintively.

"I told you," Chakotay reminded him. "I want you on your hands and knees."

Tom swallowed convulsively, a little of his old fear flashing in his eyes, then he nodded slowly.

"Okay," he agreed.

Chakotay pulled back to let Tom turn over. He could see nervous tremors running down Tom's flanks, could see Tom's biceps trembling as they took his weight, and Chakotay was plagued by fresh doubts. Then Tom spread his legs, arched his back slightly and swayed invitingly on the bed. Chakotay slid his hand around Tom's waist and found his cock hard and wet. Tom whimpered at the touch and wriggled enticingly.

Chakotay moved behind Tom, using his knees to push Tom's legs wider apart. He groaned when he saw the dark glistening rose, still moist and soft from their earlier love-making. He leaned forward and licked at the tender flesh, making Tom squirm and gasp with shock as he felt himself breached by the jabbing trusts of Chakotay's hot tongue.

"Oh shit," Tom choked, as Chakotay's hands moved to pin his waist, preventing Tom's hips from gyrating in response to the unexpected sensations Chakotay's swirling tongue was generating in his ass.

Chakotay's only answer was to continue his strange, sensuous assault, battering the rim of Tom's anus into submission with nothing more than the punching muscle of his tongue.

Tom's moans of pleasure were increasingly interspersed with grunts of frustration as Chakotay kept him shuddering on the knife edge between arousal and denial. He could feel Chakotay's fingers biting into the sides of his hips like vices to prevent Tom's desperate attempts to push back and increase the sensation.

"Please," Tom wailed, when he finally realized that there would be no more than this maddening tease unless he literally *did* beg for it.

"What do you want, Tom?" Chakotay asked softly.

"I want you to fuck me through the mattress," Tom replied, with sob of defeat.

Chakotay's hands tightened even further on Tom's waist and then Tom felt himself being dragged backwards over the bedcovers, Chakotay hauling his body as though it had no more weight than a child's until Tom's knees were on the edge of the mattress and Chakotay was on his feet.

The hands around Tom's waist moved back and pushed Tom's thighs further apart until his ass was lowered to the perfect height for Chakotay to penetrate. Tom rested his head on the mattress and looked between his own splayed arms and legs, filling his vision with the bronzed flesh of Chakotay's muscular thighs. His heart was racing, perspiration was dripping down his flanks and thighs and his white-knuckled fingers were biting into the mattress. He heard the unmistakable sound of Chakotay slicking his cock with lube and a tight, constricting panic surged through Tom's chest, choking his breath, as memories of pain and humiliation swamped him like a bitter black wave.

Tom's cock was still slapping his stomach in eagerness, but that same stomach was beginning to twist and knot in terror. I've made a mistake. I can't do this. Don't want this. Can't bear this, he decided, as his realization of his complete vulnerability made a sharp pain shoot through his bowels and bladder. If I say no now, will he stop or will he just hurt me more? he asked himself, so frozen with terror that he could barely breathe.

"I love you, Tom," Chakotay said, as he moved back into position.

Just four words, four tiny words, but they had the weight of such truth, such sincerity, that they swept away Tom's fear so suddenly that he was left gasping and gulping for air as though a huge wave had unexpectedly thrown him to safety out of the drowning sea of his own terror.

He loves me. He loves ME.

And as Chakotay's blunt cock began to press against his hole, demanding entrance, Tom shuddered, gasped and relaxed to invite the huge invader inside.

Despite Chakotay's warning that he would be rough, his initial entrance was a slow, smooth glide, controlling the pace with his firm hold on Tom's hips. Tom sobbed, this time in relief, as Chakotay stretched and filled him in a way that no other man ever could, and then he gasped in surprise as Chakotay continued deeper into his bowels. Tom had forgotten how much more of Chakotay's huge cock could penetrate him in this position, how much deeper Chakotay could invade, and despite their regular, recent love-making, Tom felt himself breached in places he had forgotten existed inside himself.

The pain was exquisite, electrifying. It was as though he was just a hollow shell, as though his whole body was just a barely animate manikin until Chakotay filled him, brought him to life by entering him as though he was a hand sheathing itself in a glove puppet.

Then, no sooner had Tom adjusted to Chakotay's girth than he felt the older man begin to move within him. The first two strokes were slow, sensual, allowing Tom's muscles to accept and embrace their invader, and then the rhythm immediately changed tempo to a furious punching as Chakotay began to wield his cock like a battering ram into Tom's ass.

Tom howled in surprise, clutching desperately at the mattress as Chakotay's whole body weight powered each long, sharp, jabbing thrust. The power of Chakotay's assault was like a white-hot flame searing through Tom's ass, bruising, battering, ripping tiny tears in the fragile membranes of his tender flesh. Yet, hand in hand with the pain, there was ecstasy as each brutal thrust punched Tom's prostate and sent ripples of almost agonizing pleasure throughout his whole body.

He was awash with sensation, the ebb and flow of the intense waves of pain and pleasure wracking his frame with shuddering spasms of sensory overload, and still Chakotay's assault continued, harder, faster, deeper until Tom was tossing his head in wild-eyed confusion.

"Please," Tom screamed, and he wasn't even sure himself whether he was begging Chakotay to stop or to continue.

Chakotay's answer was to increase his tempo even faster, while reaching around to grope at Tom's groin. Tom arched his back, his cock attempting to leap of its own accord to the promised friction of Chakotay's hand. Instead, Chakotay grabbed Tom's scrotum and closed his hand in a tight, almost painful grip.

"Come for me, Tom," he demanded, and gave Tom's balls a cruel twist.

Tom screamed and bucked wildly as agony raced through his groin like wildfire only to be drowned by the lightning bolt of the orgasm that ripped from his cock at the sound of his own name on Chakotay's lips.

Tom was falling, his whole body overloading with sensation, lights flashing in his darkening vision as he tumbled from consciousness, barely aware of Chakotay's own eruption inside him or the way his own ass cramped and hungrily milked Chakotay's cock.

He fell, and Chakotay fell with him, both tumbling over the mattress, their minds as shattered as their abused bodies, their lips meeting, their tongues thrusting together as they desperately tried to regain the connection lost by the rude ripping of Chakotay's now flaccid cock from Tom's ass.

Tom was crying, his body shuddering with wracking sobs as he buried his face into Chakotay's neck and felt Chakotay's arms wrapping around him in a desperate bruising hug.

"Shuush," Chakotay whispered, his hands stroking Tom's trembling back. "You okay?"

"God," Tom finally gasped, when his shell-shocked body finally remembered how to breathe. "That was intense," he said, then the enormity of his understatement hit him and he laughed or maybe sobbed. He'd lost the ability to tell the difference.

It was only when he finally regained control of himself that Tom realized that it wasn't only his own body that had been shaking. Chakotay was trembling in his arms and when Tom gathered enough courage to look up into Chakotay's face he saw that the older man's face was ravaged by tears, his damp eyes remote and introspective.

Terror struck Tom like a physical blow.

"Chak? CHAK?"

His panicked tone was enough to break through Chakotay's haze. He gave a slow, tentative smile.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

"A little," Tom admitted, but before Chakotay's immediate expression of guilt had a chance to do more than flicker onto his face, Tom continued. "I loved it," he said softly, "and I love you."

Doubt chased over Chakotay's features, slowly followed by cautious hope.

"I didn't frighten you?"

"A little," Tom repeated. "It was so intense, so crazy. I didn't know if it hurt or felt good, and then I just found myself flying."

"Flying?"

"Out of control, out of my body almost, there was nothing but you and me and then I couldn't even feel the difference. There was just us and so much pleasure that it hurt."

"Do you think you could, I mean we could, I mean can you handle this Tom? This intensity? Because it's what you do to me Tom, how you make me feel, out of control and all I want to do is make you feel the same way."

"It's terrifying," Tom replied slowly, snuggling into Chakotay's embrace to show that he wasn't referring to Chakotay himself but rather the sex between them. "It's like you don't care what I want, you just force me to want what you want. That didn't make much sense, did it?"

Chakotay sighed sadly.

"It makes perfect sense, Tom. You're right. I know what I want and assume you want it too, as though I think I know you better than you know yourself. I'm sorry."

Tom's eyes flashed.

"Don't be sorry. You're right. You do know what I want, what I need. I want *you*."

"Are you sure?" Chakotay asked gently. "It's just the start, Tom. Like you said, it's intense, *I'm* intense and this was just the beginning. I'll push you to the edge, maybe further than you want to go."

"If you do, I'll say so," Tom replied steadily. "I'm not a victim here. I know you'll let me say no. I trust you."

Like a dam breaking, Chakotay's tears became a torrent as he sobbed helplessly, drowning in past regrets and the impossible dream of Tom offering a trust he didn't deserve. He clung to Tom as though he were a life-raft as the waves of conflicting emotions battered him.

"Why?" he gasped. "Why the hell do you trust me, Tom?"

"Because I have to, Chakotay. Because I love you and I can't live without you," Tom replied with heart-breaking honesty.

"What if...."

Tom hushed him with a kiss.

"It's forever, Chakotay. It's a forever feeling. Whatever happens. It's not a choice. It's just the way it is, the way I feel. Forever."

Chakotay blinked back his tears, focusing on Tom's clear blue eyes, his chest constricting with the intensity of his feelings for this beautiful, brave and unbelievably forgiving man.

"Forever," Chakotay promised, his voice husky as he uttered the solemn vow.

Tom's smile of relief was so radiant that it's brightness stole Chakotay's soul.

"Marry me?" Chakotay asked.

"What?" Tom choked.

"Will you marry me, Tom, and let me spend forever proving how much I love you?"

To his surprise, Tom's radiant expression faltered, his eyes darkened not with passion but with obvious doubt. Chakotay's disappointment was like a heavy blow. It wasn't that he really wanted to marry Tom. He didn't need a ceremony to enforce his commitment. When he had said 'forever' it had been as binding as any formal vows. He'd made the offer because he thought Tom's trust deserved an official acknowledgement. Besides, it would make it harder for anyone to attempt to separate them in the future.

Even so, Tom's reluctance to commit himself, though completely understandable, was a bitter blow.

"Can I sleep on it?" Tom whispered.

Chakotay bent his head and kissed Tom on the forehead.

"Take as long as you want, Tom. The offer will say open. Forever."

Tom's smile of grateful relief was almost enough to ease Chakotay's feeling of hurt. He gathered Tom in his arms, then rolled him onto his side and spooned up behind him, so that their hot bare flesh was joined from shoulder to ankle, and he pulled the covers up.

"Sleep," he whispered into Tom's ear, then paused to kiss his neck thoroughly before continuing. "You're on helm duty in six hours."

Tom gave a dramatic groan. The idea of *sitting* anywhere soon was not a welcome image. Then his eyes snapped open.

"What do you mean, *I'm* on duty?" he asked, in mock outrage.

Chakotay chuckled. "I've got the day off," he smirked.

He fell asleep still listening to Tom muttering about the unfairness of First Officers who selfishly gave themselves days off while expecting the poor bastards they had buggered senseless to get up and go to work.

Tom woke as soon as the lights in his cabin began their slow artificial change to daylight. He just lay there and watched the slow rise and fall of Chakotay's chest as he slept. Even in repose, Chakotay's presence dominated the room and the dull ache inside Tom was a constant reminder of the power of the man in action. Tom was torn between the urge to nuzzle suggestively against the bronze-hued skin to tempt Chakotay into a repeat performance and the knowledge that he really ought to go find himself a regenerator before even considering accommodating Chakotay again.

It wasn't because he was worried that his well-used ass would protest further abuse. It was simply because he knew Chakotay would see the inflamed skin and be rocked with fresh doubt and possible regret. Tom was determined to ensure that nothing went wrong between them this time. It had taken so much courage on both their parts to reach this mutual acceptance, and Tom couldn't deal with the idea of it all blowing back up in his face once again.

"I love you," he mumbled softly, gently running his fingers through Chakotay's thick dark hair.

Chakotay snuffled and shifted in his sleep. Tom snatched his hand back and gave a rueful smile. He didn't want to risk waking Chakotay since, unlike Tom, he had the day off. Of course, Tom hoped that Chakotay would wake anyway, but he knew that was a selfish wish. He also knew he should get up and deal with the slight tearing just in case Chakotay *did* wake up. He could feel tiny, tickling trickles of blood on his inner thighs, and knew Chakotay would over-react if he noticed them. Even so, it was hard to pull himself out of the warm comfort of Chakotay's presence and limp slowly to the bathroom, biting his lips to stop any involuntary gasps of pain emerging.

In the privacy of the bathroom, he used the tricorder to establish that the injuries were minor, then he washed and regenerated his skin until it was only slightly marked. He deliberately left a small trace of damage. Chakotay would expect to see *some* swelling, and the absence of any redness would alert the older man that Tom had needed to regenerate himself.

Tom carefully replaced everything where it belonged, his eyes sweeping carefully over the floor for any evidence. He noticed a tiny speckle of blood on the tiles and wiped it furtively. Then, satisfied he'd left no trace, he flushed the toilet for cover in case Chakotay had woken, then returned to the bedroom.

Chakotay was still sleeping, his face soft and unlined, his mouth twitching in a small smile as though his wanderings through the dream plain were sweet and peaceful. Tom found his own mouth curling into a matching smile as he decided to believe that Chakotay's happy dream included himself.

He was too awake now to crawl into bed and sleep once more but too aware of Chakotay's undoubted exhaustion to selfishly wake him. So Tom wrapped a robe around himself and wandered out into the dimly lit living area. He curled up on the sofa with a mug of coffee and as he blew softly on the steam that rose comfortingly from the rim, he finally faced his feelings about Chakotay's proposal.

Tom knew Chakotay had only spoken in the heat of passion and might regret the offer today. It was one of the reasons he'd said he needed to think about his answer. The very fact that Chakotay had finally proven his passion, however, was far more meaningful than the words he had then uttered. The truth was that Tom didn't *want* to be Chakotay's husband. The word 'husband', even the institution of marriage itself, felt wrong to Tom. It smacked of the same safe and unreal relationship he and Chakotay had shared for the last week.

The idea of Chakotay marrying him didn't inspire the feeling of happiness that he would have expected. Tom couldn't quite put his finger on why it felt so wrong, but he knew that the permanence that marriage offered wasn't the kind of permanence he wanted. He didn't want to belong to Chakotay in that kind of staid, conventional way. He wanted Chakotay to own him body and soul and although marriage might mean that to Chakotay, even if Chakotay intended an old-fashioned marriage rather than the current trend of temporary, renewable contracts, Tom knew in his heart that it wasn't what he himself needed out of their relationship.

The bottom line was that he knew instinctively that Chakotay would never have married Simon if things had turned out differently. He would never have belittled the relationship to the extent of trying to fit it conveniently into a nice, safe conventional package simply to keep other people happy.

Tom reared back from that thought and reconsidered why Chakotay had made the proposal.
Of course, he finally decided. Chakotay wasn't rejecting his offer of a *real* relationship. He was just finding a way to ensure that the Captain and the rest of the crew had to accept their personal arrangements.

Tom grinned happily and took a deep slurp of his now cold coffee. Chakotay was just being careful, that was all. He was covering their backs. Tom had trusted Chakotay with his body, it was time he let that trust embrace all of Chakotay's decisions. This relationship wouldn't work if they constantly second-guessed each other. Chakotay had accepted his decision to submit sexually, and although Tom wasn't planning on letting Chakotay dominate the other aspects of their life together, there was room for a little more give and take on his side.

He jumped to his feet and raced back into the bedroom, deciding to tell Chakotay immediately that he had made his decision.

Chakotay was still fast asleep, his breathing low and steady, that same contended smile on his face.

Tom hovered for a moment, delighting in the warm feeling that infused his whole body at the realization that he would wake to this same glorious sight every morning for the rest of his life.

"I love you," he whispered, " and I *will* marry you."

Then he gave a rueful shrug at Chakotay's failure to respond. He wasn't selfish enough to wake Chakotay just to say what he should have said hours earlier. He decided the best thing would be to leave both the subject and Chakotay until later. He checked the time and was surprised to see that a couple of hours had passed since he first woke and Harry would already be waiting for him in the mess hall.

He dressed hurriedly, struggling to resist the urge to return to the bed to kiss Chakotay goodbye. He had an almost physical need to see those brown eyes open, still soft with sleep, and shine at him with the same unmistakable passion of the night before. Tom wanted to wallow in that hot gaze, warm himself a little on the flames of Chakotay's desire before he had to face the whole day of unbearable separation. He felt as though Chakotay had placed an invisible leash around his neck, one that tightened chokingly whenever he contemplated walking out of the door and leaving Chakotay behind.

Tom shook himself furiously. He was acting like a love-sick schoolboy who couldn't function without constant reassurance. He stiffened his shoulders and turned resolutely to leave. He reached the door before he broke and skipped back to the bed-side.

"Wha?" Chakotay mumbled incoherently as Tom nuzzled his forehead.

"Nothing," Tom whispered. "I'm off to work. Sorry I woke you."

Chakotay's eyes flew open, twin dark pools that swirled with emotion. Tom swallowed awkwardly, surprised and exhilarated to realize that the sleep had instantly fled Chakotay's eyes, chased away by an undeniable look of pure lust. His cock reared eagerly at the promise in Chakotay's gaze.

"You're not due on the bridge for an hour," Chakotay growled huskily.

Tom's knees weakened in response to the hunger in that voice, but he forced himself to shake his head sadly and reply that he'd already arranged to meet Harry.

Chakotay gave a rueful shrug, but there was a faint look of approval on his face, as though he was pleased that Tom was determined to fulfill his obligation to his friend, despite their mutual disappointment.

"I'll see you later then," he said softly. "There's things we need to talk about, decisions we need to make."

"Answers to be given," Tom added with a cheeky smile.

Hope flared on Chakotay's face.

"Well?" he demanded.

Tom gave a cheeky grin.

"I'll tell you later. Gotta go."

Chakotay's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Aren't you at least going to kiss me goodbye?"

Tom pretended to consider, slowly raking his eyes up and down Chakotay's body. Then he licked his lips. "How could I refuse an offer like that?" he drawled.

Chakotay raised his head, softening his lips in anticipation. Instead, Tom's head darted down to plant a wet caress directly on the head of Chakotay's cock.

"You're not going to leave me like this?" Chakotay demanded teasingly, gesturing at his now rampant erection.

Tom just smirked.

"You'll have to punish me later," he quipped, with one last loving look at Chakotay's face, then he raced out of the room to the accompaniment of Chakotay's gentle laughter.

He was still buzzing as he strode down the corridor towards the turbolift. There was just the faintest taste of Chakotay's pre-cum on his lips, and he licked hungrily at the familiar flavor. Tom was tempted to turn around and return to his quarters, far more interested in the idea of breakfast a la Chakotay than anything Neelix might have on offer. Still, Harry was waiting for him and their renewed friendship was still too tenuous and fragile to risk.

He stepped out of the Turbolift and strode towards the Mess Hall, only to be almost bowled over by Harry coming in the opposite direction. Harry grabbed his arm, spun him around and pushed him back towards the lift.

Tom planted his feet, pulled his arm loose and stared at Harry with barely concealed anger.

"Where the hell are we going?"

Harry gave a sickly smile, his eyes dipping guiltily from Tom's face.

"The breakfast is seriously bad, Tom. I thought we'd replicate something instead."

Tom just shrugged.

"Breakfast is *always* bad, Harry. I'm used to it. Besides I want to save my rations. I've got something special planned for tonight."

Harry bit his lower lip.

"It's on me," he offered in a rush.

Tom's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Look, I don't know what you're playing at, Harry, but I'm hungry, I want to say hi to Neelix, and we're both due on the bridge soon."

He started towards the Mess Hall.

"Don't," Harry yelped. "Don't go in there."

"What the hell is wrong?" Tom asked, unsure whether to be amused or worried by Harry's odd behavior.

A look of pain crossed Harry's face.

"Look, don't get upset, okay?"

"Upset about what?" Tom demanded sharply, beginning to err on the side of worry.

"Megan Delaney, she, um, she…."

"She what?"

"She's been helping the Doctor out since you've been ill."

"I know. So?"

"So she saw the records last night."

"What records?"

"Chakotay's medical files. The doc had them on screen for some reason, there was an emergency and he forgot to close them down before he left."

Tom's face drained of color and he staggered slightly.

"She knows?" he asked plaintively. "She knows what happened, what he did to me?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted.

"Shit," Tom whispered.

"But that's not all, Tom. You know what Megan and Jenny are like. I, hell, I don't know how to tell you this nicely so I may as well just come right out and say it. Everyone knows."

"WHAT?"

"Look, it's okay. Just about everyone's on your side."

"My *side*? What the fuck do you mean by 'my side'?"

Harry flushed.

"Well some people are sticking up for Chakotay, but that's just because they don't understand what happened. I'm sure the Captain will put everyone right. At least everyone knows you didn't have a breakdown now."

**

Chakotay gave a wide, contented smile and prayed silent thanks to the spirits for the sweetness of this dream.

"Mmmmm," he moaned, as Tom's naked body slid under the sheets and curled against him.

To his surprise, this dream-Tom was trembling, his flesh cold and shivering under Chakotay's exploring hands. Chakotay reached in for a kiss and found Tom's face wet with tears.

He jerked fully awake in horror, understanding that this was no dream after all and that the real Tom was here, crying in his bed, instead of sitting at the helm.

"Tom? What's wrong? What are you doing here?" he demanded, worry making his voice sharp.

"Don't be mad," Tom begged.

"I'm not mad. I'm worried. Why aren't you on the Bridge?"

"Sick," Tom whispered.

"You're sick? Are you in pain? Did I hurt you last night? Let me look," Chakotay demanded frantically.

"*Said* I was sick," Tom lied. "Missed you."

Chakotay's eyes darkened with fury that Tom had pulled a sickie, abandoning his post just to jump back in bed with him. Yet, no sooner had the anger struck him than it fled. Tom *was* ill, mentally ill. He had been for months and the cause of Tom's illness was Chakotay himself. It was a miracle that Tom could function at the helm at all, under the circumstances. He could surely be forgiven the odd relapse.

Although Chakotay was sure that the previous night had been a positive step forward for the pilot as well as their relationship as a whole, who knew what mental strain it had still put Tom under. If Tom felt needy enough to abandon the helm he loved in favor of a comforting hug, then Tom *really* needed a hug, he decided.

"Two steps forward and one back, huh?" he muttered, pulling Tom into a fierce embrace.

Tom just whimpered and accepted the comfort of Chakotay's arms. He wasn't sure how long he'd got. Maybe the whole day, maybe less if someone commed Chakotay and told him what had happened.

In the midst of his near-hysterical shouting match with poor Harry, Tuvok had appeared and had escorted Tom quietly to sickbay. After the Doctor had judged his panic to be *mere* psychological distress rather than something that could be helped medically, Tom had been relieved of duty and sent home. He'd begged for the right to tell Chakotay the news himself, and surprisingly it had been the Captain herself who had finally agreed.

What no one had realized was that Tom had no intention of telling Chakotay at all.

He knew, of course, that the reprieve was temporary at best. The most he could hope for was to keep the news from Chakotay until his next duty shift. That gave them twenty hours at most, assuming Chakotay didn't leave Tom's quarters and no one came calling.

Twenty hours was a hell of a short forever.

"I've got a couple of hours booked on the holodec. It's a remote beach, hot sun, calm sea, want to come?" Chakotay offered.

"Can't," Tom replied, his eyes flaring with alarm. "I'm sick. I can't use the holodec."

Chakotay laughed. "If anyone questions us, I'll make the Doctor say he prescribed it as medicine."

Tom shook his head frantically.

"Don't want to go out," he mumbled. "Wanna stay here, with you. Let's fuck."

"Let's eat first, huh?" Chakotay laughed.

"Not hungry," Tom whispered.

"Oh," Chakotay replied with a concerned frown. Then his expression cleared. "I forgot you had breakfast with Harry. How is he? Any gossip?"

Tom's face blanched, his eyes growing impossibly huge before he dropped his face from Chakotay's concerned gaze.

"Okay," Chakotay growled, reaching forward and grasping Tom's chin firmly enough to force his face upwards again. "What's going on? What's happened?"

Tom began to shudder, his eyes stark with terror.

"Don't leave me," he begged.

Chakotay released Tom's jaw and instead bundled him up in his arms. Lifting Tom up as though he weighed nothing, Chakotay carried him into the bathroom. Without releasing his precious, trembling burden he adjusted the shower setting from sonic to water and stepped inside the cubicle, Tom still in his arms.

As the warm water beat down on their heads, Chakotay soothed and stroked the younger man, waiting for the heat of the shower to permeate Tom's chilled skin. Chakotay knew Tom's trembling was shock, that the icy pallor of his skin was due to a psychological insult, not a physical one, but he also knew that physical comfort and warmth were necessary to calm Tom before Chakotay had any chance of discovering whatever had terrified Tom so badly that he was unable to talk about it.

There was an element of hurt lurking in Chakotay's heart, an echo of the pain when Tom had rejected his proposal, but there was no feeling of irritation or blame. Tom had lied, had tried to deceive him, but that didn't matter. That had just been Tom's fear driving his actions. The important thing was that in this moment of crisis, whatever it was, Tom had still turned to *him* for comfort and safety.

Tom loved him, and he loved Tom, and whatever this crisis was, they'd face it together and emerge stronger.

When he finally judged that Tom could stand safely, albeit with support, Chakotay lowered him to his feet and then hugged him under the powerful, healing spray. Tom nuzzled against him, just seeking comfort at first and then slowly his movements against Chakotay's body became more purposeful, more needy. He suckled at Chakotay's neck, rubbing his erection meaningfully against Chakotay's hip.

Chakotay reached an arm down to capture and caress Tom's cock, deciding the relief of Tom's sexual pressure might open the floodgates to allow his other emotions through. As soon as he touched Tom's erection, however, the younger man spun in his arms and braced himself against the wall of the shower.

"Tom?" Chakotay queried softly through the streaming water.

"Please," Tom begged.

Chakotay didn't waste time playing games or second-guessing Tom's plea. Tom's distress was obvious and his body was radiating a desperate need for comfort and reassurance. Reaching for the soap, praying it was unperfumed, Chakotay lathered his cock and pressed it against Tom's ass.

Tom groaned in obvious relief, adjusting his legs and bending forward to allow Chakotay a better access.

Because of Tom's fragility and the precariousness of the wet floor, Chakotay didn't attempt any finesse. He used one hand to hold himself upright, the other to immediately begin pumping Tom's cock and he entered Tom in a slow but hard thrust that dragged a ragged gasp of pleasure out of the younger man.

It took little effort to coax an orgasm out of Tom. A dozen firm strokes, the synchronous internal caress of Chakotay's cock, and Tom cried out in relief, the tension exploding out of his body accompanied by a founting spurt of semen. He sagged bonelessly in Chakotay's arms, barely even aware of Chakotay withdrawing to finish himself off with his own hand.

Chakotay detached the showerhead to sluice them both down and then helped Tom out of the shower, sitting him down on the toilet seat while grabbed towels and a couple of robes. Chakotay briskly rubbed Tom dry, using the towel to massage a little life back into Tom's still worryingly pale limbs, then he wrapped Tom in a robe, picked him up in his arms once more and carried him back to the bed.

It wasn't until they were snuggled together, Tom on his lap, the duvet wrapped in warm comfort around their bodies, that Chakotay finally asked Tom to tell him what was wrong.

Chakotay listened in silence, only the gradual tightening of his arms around Tom's chest proving that he was listening at all.

Tom finished his tale and fell silent, waiting in trembling terror for Chakotay's reaction, but Chakotay couldn't talk, couldn't think for the panic rushing through his veins. He just sat there, crushing Tom in his embrace, as a myriad of nightmare consequences tumbled through his head. When Chakotay finally reacted, it wasn't with words, it was with the simple act of climbing out of bed and proceeding to dress himself in his uniform

"Don't go," Tom begged. "Don't leave me alone."

He was still huddled under the duvet, as though his limbs were still too weak to even push the covering aside, but the true reason for his inability to move was that Chakotay's grim-faced silence was terrifying him.

Chakotay stepped forward toward the bed, hesitated and let his arms fall awkwardly to his sides. He couldn't lie to Tom, couldn't make meaningless promises, couldn't offer false comfort. Unable to look at the burning misery in Tom's eyes, yet helpless to remove it, Chakotay simply turned away.

"I'll be back soon," he muttered and was gone.

Tom gazed at the closed bedroom door with dead eyes.

"No you won't," he whispered into the empty room and his words hung invisibly in the air like a storm cloud.

A couple of hours later, when Chakotay had neither returned nor commed him, Tom knew his instincts had been right. He didn't cry, didn't even curse, he simply rose, walked into the bathroom, locked the door firmly and retrieving his regenerator from the cabinet, Tom liberated the small blade he had taped inside the toilet cistern.

The first insertion into his skin made a surge of bile rush into his mouth, burning like acid into his throat lining as it passed in each direction. After that, though, Tom barely felt the knife slicing the careful lines into his forearm.

FOREVER


The stark ragged letters mocked him. Their red ugliness no less transient, no less a lie, than Chakotay's use of the word.

One sweep of the regenerator and the word and the pain would be forgotten, just as Chakotay's vow had been so obviously forgotten.

Tom grabbed a towel, wrapped it tightly around his forearm to stop the bleeding and returned to the bedroom, crawling under the covers and clutching his still stinging arm. Left untreated, the wounds would heal into paper-thin scars, a permanent tattoo, less perfect, less obvious than Chakotay's but no less spiritual to Tom.

Forever. He'd meant it, even if Chakotay hadn't.

~~~

Chakotay checked the time and cursed. He'd been gone from Tom's quarters for almost five hours and despite the way he and Tom had connected the night before, Tom's attempt to hide the truth from him that morning proved that Tom's trust was far more fragile than his love.

Don't do anything stupid, he prayed silently. Please don't give anyone any more reasons to destroy us.

He desperately wanted to at least call Tom, but Tuvok and the Doctor's constant presence was constraining him.

The Doctor finally finished regenerating the knuckles of Chakotay's right hand and sighed loudly before moving his instrument to Chakotay's left hand.

"There would have been less swelling to deal with if you had allowed me to deal with your injuries before those of your victims, Commander," the hologram griped.

"Since Crewman Doyle was choking on his own blood and Crewman Jarvin was asphyxiating from his crushed larynx, the Commander's insistence that you treated them first was logical," Tuvok interrupted. "Otherwise, the Commander would currently be in the brig on a charge of manslaughter."

The Doctor just snorted.

"As it is, although Doyle and Jarvin have been charged with assault on a superior officer, I still require an explanation of why you found it necessary to deal with their verbal insults in such an extreme manner, Commander," Tuvok continued, making a mental note to ask Seven to check the Doctor's ethical subroutines.

"They are my crew, Maquis crew, and Maquis discipline was applied," Chakotay replied coldly.

"May I remind you that the crew of Voyager is ONE crew. The original Starfleet and Maquis designations no longer apply," Tuvok pointed out. "I also fail to understand your reasoning. Unlike the majority of the crew, these crewmen did not verbally abuse you for your actions during your illness. I myself witnessed Crewmen Fitzpatrick and Ashmore confronting you on deck 4. They called you several names for which I have put them on report, yet you did not even react to the insults."

Chakotay just shrugged, willing the Doctor to hurry up so that he could get back to Tom. He was terrified some other ignorant bastard like Doyle and Jarvin might attempt to confront the pilot directly.

"Your response is inadequate, Commander. I require your version of events before I question the prisoners."

Chakotay swallowed heavily. Even the idea of repeating what Doyle and Jarvin had said to him made him nauseous.

"They were not disciplined for verbally assaulting me," he finally answered. "The charge of assaulting a senior officer refers to what they said about Tom."

The Doctor snorted loudly again, leading Tuvok to the conclusion that he already knew what the crewmen had said. It perhaps explained his attitude towards them.

"Commander?" Tuvok asked, now deeply intrigued.

"They called Lieutenant Paris a whore," Chakotay replied tightly. "They said he was well known as no more than a 'bitch-slut' in Auckland, that he deserved everything I did to him and that they had taken 'a piece of his ass' themselves when we first came aboard."

"I see," Tuvok replied quietly.

"DO YOU?" Chakotay roared. "Do you have any idea how it felt to hear the man I love talked about in that way and know it's MY FAULT? Shit, I thought nothing could be worse than walking into a room and knowing everybody inside thinks I'm a monster, knowing that they'll all be pressuring Tom to leave me, trying to convince him for his own good that he's crazy to be with me after what I did to him.

"That's all I could think about this morning when Tom finally dared to tell me. Not my own reputation, not the fact that my chance of living and working on this ship has probably been irrevocably destroyed. Just the fact that he needs me, and nobody will understand that, nobody will just let him make his own choices anymore.

"It never even fucking occurred to me that there were bastards on board who would use it against Tom. What kind of sick person could try and justify what I did?" he demanded. "I'm ashamed I ever allowed scum like them on the Crazy Horse. There's certainly no place for them on a Starfleet Vessel."

"Indeed," Tuvok agreed, deciding perhaps the Doctor's sub-routines were fine as they were.

~~~

"Tom?" Chakotay called out worriedly as he entered Tom's quarters and saw the living area was abandoned. It was almost 1700, he'd been gone for seven hours without a word and his gut instinct was insisting that Tom would have over-reacted to his absence.

No sooner had the Doctor finished repairing his hands than he had been forced to give a formal statement to Tuvok about his 'disciplining' of Doyle and Jarvis. Then the Captain had summoned him to give an update on the 'damage limitation' she'd been doing. He was grateful for her concern, relieved to hear she had been personally visiting the various decks to replace rumors with facts. Chakotay had been unwilling to comm. Tom in front of any of them, knowing they would listen in and make judgments based on the level of panic in Tom's voice.

Before Tuvok had arrived in Sickbay, Chakotay had asked the Doctor to monitor Tom's quarters. The computer would have sounded an alert if Tom's life signs had gone critical, if Tom had left or if another person had been registered entering his quarters. Chakotay at least knew Tom was here and alive. So it wasn't Tom's physical health that was worrying him, it was his mental state.

Chakotay had been cursing himself all day. In a state of selfish, self-indulgent shock he had left Tom without even a single word of comfort. Despite his decision to share the problem with Tom and face it together, the moment the crisis had hit Chakotay had just charged off in a testosterone induced rage. He hadn't even paused to tell Tom that he loved him.

He knows, he'd told himself all day. I told him we were forever so he knows that I love him, that somehow I'll make everything all right. But the words had been cold comfort because Chakotay knew that Tom was too fragile for faith, too damaged for real trust to flourish in the barren wasteland of his battered spirit.

I should have told him I loved him, and the obvious truth of that regret was what fired Chakotay's panic.

He found Tom in the bedroom, still huddled under the duvet. He was sleeping, his breathing low but steady, his face stained with the tracks of countless tears. Chakotay stroked the fine blonde hair, and looked carefully at the too-thin face that was screwed up in misery, even in sleep.

He was too pale, paler even than when Chakotay had left him. He probably hadn't eaten all day, Chakotay decided. Tom had simply cried until he was too exhausted to continue and then had finally dropped into an equally restless sleep.

Chakotay bent and kissed a white cheek, surprised at the heat that was burning from such bloodless flesh. Tom was fever hot without even the slightest blush staining his cheeks or forehead.

With a feeling of foreboding, Chakotay gently shook Tom awake.

Blue eyes fluttered slowly open, dark flat pools of misery that suddenly sparked with life as they focused on Chakotay's face.

"Chak?" Tom queried hesitantly, in a voice ragged from his earlier sobbing.

"Yes, sweetheart," Chakotay replied. He wasn't a man given easily to endearments but Tom's fearful expression demanded the kind of reassurance that only nonsense could supply.

"You're back," Tom said vaguely, disbelievingly.

"Of course I'm back," Chakotay said, with a gentle smile. "Forever, don't you remember?"

Alarm flared in Tom's eyes, a guilty unmistakable terror.

"Tom? What's wrong?"

"Oh god, oh shit," Tom mumbled. "I thought, I thought you'd gone, I thought.."

Looking at Tom's darting eyes and observing his panic, the feeling of dread that had accompanied Chakotay all day coalesced into a grim certainty.

"What have you done, Tom?" he asked urgently.

Tom was shaking, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Then, as abruptly as the panic had started, it ceased. Tom raised his fever-bright eyes to Chakotay's face and laughed instead. The sound was so inappropriate that it was terrifying.

"Help me," Tom urged, a sly smile creeping across his face. "The bathroom. That's it. They don't need to know. We don't have to tell them. Secret. That's it. Our secret, Chak. Okay?"

"What secret, Tom?" Chakotay asked softly, even as he wondered why the whole room wasn't echoing with the sound of his own breaking heart.

Tom looked suspiciously around the room as though checking there were no lurking spies listening into their conversation. Then, seemingly satisfied, he leant forward and whispered "Forever".

Chakotay swallowed convulsively, his stomach churning as his trembling right arm reached for the corner of the duvet. Somehow he already knew what he was going to find, wasn't surprised to peel back the bedcover and discover that Tom was lying in a dark puddle of blood, he wasn't even shocked by the towel wrapped around Tom's forearm that was so saturated with Tom's blood that it was wet and heavy as Chakotay unwrapped it.

What drove Chakotay to his knees, as his stomach disgorged itself in a series of wracking spasms, was the word that Tom had carved into his flesh.

~~~

"He's restrained," the Doctor agreed, "but he's too sedated to be distressed about it."

"If he's that sedated, why do you need the restraints at all?" Chakotay demanded.

"I agree," Kathryn said. "He's ill, not a prisoner. Restraining him will surely only make the situation worse and what we all want is Tom to recover from this setback as soon as possible."

The Doctor stiffened imperiously.

"The only way Mr. Paris is *ever* going to recover, is if you all stop playing at being physicians and let me do my job."

"Tom's frightened of you," Chakotay reminded him. "He still has nightmares about what you did to him before."

"Odd," the Doctor replied snidely. "Since *you* were the one responsible for my reprogramming and he doesn't appear to have nightmares about *you*."

"Tom will NOT be restrained," Kathryn interrupted firmly. "Drug him if you have to, put a forcefield around his bed if you are that concerned, but Tom Paris will never be physically restrained again. I made him a promise, and no matter how ill he is, I won't break it."

"Thank you," Chakotay said, giving Kathryn a grateful smile.

"Very well," the Doctor sniffed. "No visitors however, particularly *not* the Commander."

"Bullshit," Chakotay growled. "What Tom did was stupid, I agree, but he did it because he thought I'd left him. His self-mutilation is always a response to him being separated from me."

"Which is exactly why it's been a mistake to allow him to use you as a crutch," the Doctor replied. "It allows him to function well enough to fool people into thinking he's recovering, but remove the crutch and Tom collapses."

"The Doctor's right, Chakotay," Kathryn said gently. "No one is trying to separate you from each other. It's obvious that despite everything that has happened, you and Tom have a very special relationship. However, Tom is clearly unwell and as his Captain it is both my legal and moral duty to do what is best for him until he is able to look after himself. Until that time comes, you are to stay away from him."

"No, you can't make that decision for him. He loves me. He *needs* me," Chakotay argued.

"What he needs is to get better, Chakotay. Think about it. The whole crew is up in arms about your relationship with him. They all see it as just a further form of abuse, you taking advantage of him, and Tom's mental instability is just proving their theory right."

"So you're allowing their stupidity and prejudice to influence you," Chakotay accused.

"Yes," Kathryn replied. "Not because I am personally worried about their opinions, Chakotay. But because Tom can't cope with any more pressure and as long as he stays with you he'll have to run the gauntlet of that public opinion. All I'm suggesting is a little breathing space. Give Tom a chance to grow stronger, give a little time for this to blow over, concentrate on re-building your own fences with the crew. Win their support, *then* we'll see about letting you and Tom resume your relationship."

"You're playing God, Kathryn," Chakotay spat, although he was honest enough to acknowledge her points to himself. She was right, but she was also terribly wrong because Tom would never understand Chakotay's apparent desertion of him.

Kathryn shrugged ruefully.

"I have to," she said sadly. "I'm the Captain."

~~~

Tom spent the next fortnight lost in a drug-induced haze.

It wasn't the sedatives that kept him trapped in a semi-conscious state, it was the fact that despite the Doctor's medical care, Tom developed a serious infection in his arm.

The skin of his forearm, already multi-scarred by his previous abuse, resisted the Doctor's efforts at regeneration. There was too little undamaged skin for the Doctor to work with and because of Tom's poor general health a skin graft was out of the question.

The Doctor decided to let the wounds scab and close naturally. He could clone some of Tom's DNA at a later date and attach fresh skin to cover the scarring.

Unfortunately, Tom had an allergic reaction to one of the various anti-biotics included in the cocktail of drugs the Doctor mixed up to speed the healing. By the time the Doctor had isolated the culprit, Tom's arm was weeping with infection and his whole body was wracked with fever.

Then, despite the best application of 24th century medicine, or at least the facilities that were available in Voyager's now depleted sickbay, Tom proceeded to prove that even unconscious he could be the Doctor's worst nightmare.

Time and again the Doctor devised a treatment that couldn't fail to work, and each time Tom's body defeated him, refusing the medicine, reacting violently against any application of drugs that could reduce the livid, throbbing wound on his arm.

The vibrant wound mocked the Doctor with its absolute refusal to heal. If the Doctor had been a flesh and blood person he would have given in to the increasingly superstitious feeling that the word FOREVER was self-aware and determined to prove itself no less permanent than the sum of its letters.

"Can't you just seal the flesh closed?" Kathryn asked, looking in despair at the clear plastiglass cover over Tom's arm that was designed to keep any airborne infections out of the weeping wound.

"The only thing that would work is a laser," the Doctor replied, "and that would simply burn the word into his arm. A graft would never take over the top of it. He'll be permanently scarred."

"Perhaps that's what he wants," Kathryn murmured.

"What?"

"You said yourself there's no physical reason for him to keep rejecting the treatments. Perhaps his reactions are psychosomatic. He wants the scar."

The Doctor nodded his reluctant agreement.

"I have come to the same conclusion," he admitted. "Obviously it's a symptom of his illness, however, which is why I am determined to overcome his resistance to my treatment. When he is well again, he will almost certainly find the permanent mark distressing."

Kathryn nodded.

"Possibly," she agreed. "The way I see it though is that if you don't stop trying to beat Tom's determination now, he won't survive long enough to be cured."

"The operation was a success but the patient died?" the Doctor asked dryly.

"What?"

"Some old joke Mr. Paris once told me," the Doctor replied.

"Laser the wound, Doctor," Kathryn ordered firmly. "We'll deal with the aftermath later."

~~~

Chakotay ignored the aggressive stance of the crewman and concentrated instead on the information flashing on his terminal.

"This is the fourth time this week you've been late for duty. Twice in the last month, members of your team have been cited for leaving their posts without permission. You have failed to hand in your last two station reports and now I find that you haven't even started your team on the assignment I gave you last week."

"We did start it," Collins argued. "Then we realized it was a waste of time. We're just duplicating work that the maintenance crew on Beta shift are doing. What's the point of crawling along Jeffries tubes just repeating their work?"

"The *point* is that they are critical systems. The Beta shift need the experience of doing the work but I need it double-checked by more experienced crewmen," Chakotay explained, forcing his voice to remain steady in the face of Collins' insubordination.

"Yeah? Well that's the job of their supervisor, not my team. It's not my job to baby-sit, Commander."

"No," Chakotay agreed. "It's your job to follow orders, which you are patently unable to do. I'm entering a note into your performance report. Unless your attitude changes dramatically, you will be turned down for promotion again this year."

Collins face flushed with anger.

"I'm the best maintenance engineer on this ship. Even Torres says so. I've had the responsibility of running my own team for five years. I deserve that damned promotion."

"Not on this performance you don't," Chakotay replied. "It's not enough to have ability, Mr. Collins. If you want to be an officer on this ship you have to set an example to your team by your own behavior."

Collins laughed nastily.

"An example?" he mocked. "You mean I ought to take a firmer hand with my team? What do you suggest, *sir*? Should I fuck 'em into submission or just beat their asses? I mean you're the expert on correctional behavior, aren't you, Commander?"

"Dismissed," Chakotay growled, clenching his knuckles until they turned white. The blood was pounding through his head, his whole body poised to jump up and wipe the mocking smirk off Collin's face. It took every ounce of his strength to simply sit there and maintain a mask of indifference.

"What? No pointers, Sir?" Collins continued. "I mean, if I want to be an *Officer* like you, I obviously need to learn your special form of discipline, don't I?"

"I SAID DISMISSED," Chakotay roared.

Collins smirked, gave a salute so precise that it was a gesture of utter contempt, turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his whole body radiating satisfaction.

Chakotay just sat there, staring at the closed door, trying to remember how to breathe. A couple of minutes later, his comm. badge chirped.

"Chakotay," he growled, slapping his chest so hard that he bruised himself.

"Commander," Tuvok's dispassionate voice replied. "I wondered whether you have time to see me for a few minutes. There are a couple of security issues I would welcome your opinion about."

Chakotay shrugged. He wasn't up to dealing with another crew discipline session and nobody came to him for counseling any more.

"I'm available," he told Tuvok shortly.

As if you didn't already know, Chakotay added silently, deliberately not looking towards the tiny blinking red light in the far corner of his room. He'd been told it was part of a life-support secondary system. He'd seen the schematics, understood the theory, hadn't even queried the fact that there was a matching red light in his living room and even his bedroom. It was the fact that it hadn't been installed in his bathroom that had given the deception away.

Even Kathryn obviously drew the line at placing a camera in Chakotay's bathroom.

~~~

Tom glared resentfully at the Doctor's self-satisfied smirk.

"I feel FINE. You could at least let me get up and use the bathroom."

"The bio-bed is perfectly capable of dealing with all your bodily functions," the Doctor replied smoothly.

"I want to talk to the Captain," Tom insisted. "She promised me I wouldn't be restrained."

"You aren't," the hologram replied smoothly. "You are free to sit up in the bed. You can get up and sit ON the bed. You can even walk around it if you prefer. The force field merely prevents you from leaving Sickbay."

"Then why is it around my fucking BED?" Tom demanded.

"Because there are a lot of items in sickbay that you could *accidentally* hurt yourself with," the Doctor answered. "This way I don't have to keep you under constant surveillance and you can have a little privacy."

"I want to see Chakotay," Tom muttered.

The Doctor sighed impatiently.

"We have already had this conversation, Tom. Numerous times. The Commander has been ordered to stay away from Sickbay. You cannot see him."

"Then I want to *talk* to Chakotay," Tom replied.

"As I have explained before, your comm. badge will not work through the force field."

"THEN DROP THE FUCKING FORCE FIELD," Tom screamed.

The Doctor sighed and activated the sub-routine that would send a sedating gas into Tom's air supply. He watched Tom fighting the gas, battering his hands desperately against the invisible wall that trapped him, screaming abuse and threats at the Doctor. He waited until Tom's screams became ragged sobs, until the strength of Tom's anger was replaced by a confused, depressed sorrow. Then Tom's body sagged with exhaustion and he crawled back under the bedcovers, his fury replaced with tired bitter tears of despair.

Only then did the Doctor return to his office and write a new entry in Tom's medical report. Tom had managed 4.356 minutes before giving in to hysteria that morning. It was definite progress.

~~~

B'Elanna nudged Harry roughly.

"What?" he complained, as her elbow connected with his ribs hard enough to almost make him drop his tray.

She dipped her head towards the far corner of the Mess Hall where Chakotay was sitting alone, pushing his dinner listlessly around his plate and pretending to be absorbed in a data padd.

Chakotay wasn't merely sitting alone at his table. The surrounding tables were also conspicuously empty despite the fact that the room was so full of people that the other tables were overcrowded.

"Bastards," Harry hissed, as he realized how hard the entire crew were working to make Chakotay feel isolated and unwelcome.

"Come on," B'Elanna growled and began to march towards Chakotay's table.

Harry flushed as he realized the eyes of the whole room were on him. He knew that if they sat at Chakotay's table the contempt currently reserved for Chakotay would be extended to them too. The thought made his stomach roil.

Then he stiffened his shoulders. If it was Tom he wouldn't hesitate, and he knew, beyond any doubt, that Tom would want him to do this. Whatever had happened, whatever Chakotay had done, Tom loved Chakotay and Tom was Harry's friend.

He'd been a bad friend to Tom recently. He knew that. Every time he reached out to his beloved B'Elanna, he had a flashback to how he had allowed Tom's destruction just to steal Tom's girlfriend. What he owed Tom could never be paid, but maybe by reaching out to Chakotay, Harry could reduce a little of the interest on his debt.

"May we?" B'Elanna asked loudly. She didn't wait for an answer, she just pulled out a chair, plonked her tray noisily on Chakotay's table and sat down.

Chakotay nearly dropped his padd in surprise.

"You've let your dinner get cold, Commander," Harry said as he joined them. He snatched Chakotay's plate, replaced it with his own steaming pasta and rose to fetch himself another serving.

"What are you doing?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"You know that expression, a drip of water wears away the hardest rock?" B'Elanna asked.

Chakotay frowned in confusion.

"Well the rock is the stupid, ignorant attitude of these idiots, and Harry is the drip."

"Hey," Harry protested. "What are you then?"

B'Elanna shrugged and gave an evil smile.

"Me? I'm a Tsunami. Kahless himself can't help anyone who stands in my way."

Chakotay smiled despite himself.

"You can't change attitudes by breaking noses, B'Elanna," he admonished softly.

"Want a bet?" B'Elanna replied with a cool smirk.

~~~

"How is he?" Tom asked quietly.

Kathryn sighed, stretching her legs as she leaned back in the chair, and she looked worriedly at Tom's face. Even with the force field between them she could almost feel the misery radiating from the pilot.

"I didn't come here to talk about Chakotay," she reminded him gently. "I came to see how *you* are."

"Please," Tom said, dropping his head to stare at his lap. "I just want to know he's okay. The Doc won't tell me."

"He's having a hard time," Kathryn admitted finally. "But he's okay, he's strong. He'll get through it."

Tom nodded slowly.

"You care about him, don't you?" Tom asked.

Kathryn jerked in surprise.

"Of course I do. He's a good man, Tom. I understand that. Despite everything that happened. I trust him and care about him, just as I care about you."

"But you don't trust me," Tom replied bitterly.

Since Kathryn hadn't even considered sitting inside the boundaries of Tom's 'prison' she could hardly deny it.

"You're ill Tom. It's not your fault. All we're doing is protecting you until you're able to look after yourself."

"By which you mean keeping us apart," Tom accused.

"Only until you're feeling better, Tom."

"How the fuck am I going to feel better without him? I NEED HIM!" Tom screamed, moving towards Kathryn so that his final words were almost spat in her face.

Kathryn jumped, despite the force field. Tom's sudden swing of mood had caught her unprepared.

"It's exactly this kind of behavior that convinces me I'm right, Tom," she told him coldly, rising to her feet to leave.

She wasn't angry with him, not really, she was just beginning to despair whether Tom would ever recover. The Doctor had already said there was no physical reason to keep Tom in sickbay any longer. Yet Tom needed to be constantly supervised and kept away from dangerous objects. Such as First Officers.

As much as the thought sickened her, unless Tom began to recover soon Kathryn had the horrible feeling she was going to end up putting him in the brig just to keep him safe.

~~~

Chakotay walked so slowly and reluctantly in Kathryn's wake that he seemed to be en route to his own execution.

"Come on," she urged. "Just one drink."

"It's a bad idea," Chakotay replied.

"Nonsense. It's my idea, therefore it's a great idea, because *I'm* the Captain," Kathryn growled, only to ruin the effect by sniggering.

Chakotay smiled despite himself.

"Come on," Kathryn urged. "Come have a drink with me and I'll give you an update on Tom."

Chakotay snatched hungrily at the dangled bait. He was so desperate to hear her news that he barely noticed the fact that over half the crewmembers in Sandrine's rose pointedly at his entrance and stalked out.

Kathryn noticed though and glared so fiercely at the next table of occupants who were clearly planning to leave as though Chakotay carried the plague, that they seated themselves once more.

"How is he?" Chakotay asked, sipping cautiously at the double scotch the Captain had *bought* him.

"He's over the infection, he's rational most of the time," Kathryn said cautiously.

"And the rest of the time?" Chakotay demanded.

"Whenever he mentions you, he loses control."

"I told you he needs me," Chakotay replied. "Let me talk to him. I can calm him down. I can help him get better."

"No, you don't understand, Chakotay. It's not a case of him simply 'missing' you. He gets hysterical, crazy even. It's like he's addicted to you and just the slightest mention of your name knocks him sideways and back into madness."

"Tom isn't mad," Chakotay growled defensively.

"No," Kathryn agreed, "but the Doctor says he's skating on a thin line of sanity and it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge."

"Shit," Chakotay hissed, taking a deep gulp of his drink. The liquor burned his throat and threatened to liberate the tears that were clustered precariously at the back of his eyes.

"The problem is that he's not getting better and he can't stay in the Sickbay forever. I'm going to have to move him to somewhere equally secure though, unless his behavior changes radically."

Chakotay looked at her in dawning horror.

"The brig? You want to put him in the brig? That *will* push him over the edge."

"I know," Kathryn confessed. "That's why I want your help."

"My help?"

"I know you love Tom. Really love him. That's why I'm going to ask you this. I know how much it will hurt you but if you really love him, you'll do it."

"What?"

"I want you to tell Tom it's over between you. Cut him loose. Give him a chance to get over you before he destroys himself."

~~~

Tom double checked the electronic signature to be sure the padd hadn't been tampered with then he considered the hurtful words. Yes, they'd definitely been typed by Chakotay and signed by him too, but they were stilted, wrong, obviously contrived. There was no flow or emotion to the words.

"For a long time I've been thinking about our relationship. Only you have ever touched my heart. Reality can't be denied though. Everyone is saying I am harming you. Various recent incidents have proved them right. Even though I love you, I have decided that we can never see each other again. Refuse to accept this and I will be forced to leave the ship."

Tom read the padd again, then shifted the text, rearranging the sentences so that they stood one above each other.

"For a long time I've been thinking about our relationship.

Only you have ever touched my heart.

Reality can't be denied though.

Everyone is saying I am harming you.

Various recent incidents have proved them right.

Even though I love you, I have decided that we can never see each other again.

Refuse to accept this and I will be forced to leave the ship."

Tom felt his heart jump in his chest. Then he looked over to where the Captain and Doctor were holding their breaths, obviously waiting for his hysterics.

Instead Tom gave a gentle smile.

"He's right," he said quietly. "We're no good for each other. It's time I accepted the truth."

Kathryn and the Doctor exchanged bewildered looks.

"I want to get well," Tom announced. "I'll start taking that medication I've been refusing and you can tell Tuvok that I've decided to take him up on his offer of counseling. It's time I let Chakotay go."

~~~

"How did he take it?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn gave him a perplexed look and reached a comforting arm out to touch his hand before replying.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Chakotay, but he read your note and he actually seemed relieved."

"Did he?" Chakotay asked steadily.

"Yes," Kathryn replied, still obviously bemused by Tom's reaction.

"Well, he's a smart man, Kathryn. He might be ill, but he's not stupid. He can read between the lines. He knows he'll never be allowed his freedom unless he shows you that he can let me go."

Kathryn nodded, still too relieved at Tom's unexpected compliance to figure out why Chakotay's answer bothered her.

~~~

"Lieutenant?" Chakotay asked calmly, his face expressionless except for the tightening of the skin around his eyes.

Tom moved stiffly into the room, his body taut with tension, his eyes refusing to meet Chakotay's face.

"Reporting for duty, Sir. The Doctor has finally cleared me to fly again," Tom told the wall behind Chakotay's head.

"Congratulations, Tom. I'm pleased you're feeling better."

"I am," Tom replied steadily. "Everything's a lot clearer now. I understand that I was confused. That I was attempting to avoid dealing with my problems and that's why I wasn't getting better. The Doctor has helped me a lot."

"I'm glad," Chakotay replied, forcing his voice to remain calm, determined not to allow his own heart-ache to show.

"I appreciate that you did what you thought was best for me, what I asked you to do," Tom continued. "So although the Captain didn't think it was wise for me to do this, I wanted to tell you my decision to your face."

"Your decision?"

"I still love you, Chakotay. I always will. But we can't see each other that way any more. Our relationship is bad for me. I don't handle it well. I hope we can still work together, be friends at least."

"Of course," Chakotay replied. "I only want what's best for you."

Tom nodded.

"How's your arm?" Chakotay asked.

Tom rolled his uniform sleeve up and revealed the still livid scars.

"The Doc's mad about it. Says despite the infection he should have been able to remove it, but the skin simply won't regenerate. Seems I'm stuck with it forever."

"Forever," Chakotay repeated slowly.

Tom's eyes darted towards the winking camera in the corner of the office and he twisted his body slightly so that his right shoulder obscured his left arm. Only then did he use the fingers of his right hand to carefully trace the lines of the word carved on his flesh.

"Some things never fade," Tom murmured. "Some things never change, no matter how hard people try to change them."

He finally looked Chakotay in the face and it took all of Chakotay's self-control not to react to the clear message in those blue eyes.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Tom, and that you know what you want. I assure you that my feelings about our relationship are exactly the same as yours."

Tom gave a tiny shudder, his eyes closed briefly as he struggled for control. Then he used the distraction of rolling his sleeve back down to regain his composure.

For the benefit of their audience, Tom gave a casual shrug.

"Thank you for understanding, Commander," he said calmly, using his eyes alone to project his real meaning.

"I do," Chakotay assured him, reaching out his hand to shake Tom's in a gesture of dismissal.

Even Tuvok's eagle eyes on the monitor didn't register the tiny, comforting squeeze of Chakotay's hand around Tom's fingers. The gesture was too small, too insignificant, yet in the mingling gaze of the two men, a secret pact was agreed, a private vow reaffirmed.

FOREVER.

"Dismissed Lieutenant," Chakotay said softly.

"Sir," Tom replied equally calmly, and in front of the camera they both simply turned and walked away from each other, Chakotay to his desk, Tom out towards the Bridge.

~~~

"Lieutenant," Chakotay said politely, keeping his eyes fixed on the turbolift controls.

"Commander," Tom nodded, equally politely, stepping inside and moving to the far corner of the lift, his eyes fixed firmly ahead.

Between them, John Ashmore and Tim Curran exchanged surprised glances but said nothing. The turbolift halted on the next deck and the doors opened. John and Tim stepped forward to leave, then paused uncertainly.

"You okay, Paris?" John asked, gesturing rudely at Chakotay.

"Fine," Tom said softly. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

The two crewmen hesitated a moment longer, then realized they were not only going to be late for shift but possibly up on charges if they didn't get out of the lift. Tom had his comm. badge on, after all. He could soon summon help if that mad bastard Chakotay made a move on him.

The door closed, Chakotay quickly keyed in an over-ride to freeze the lift and Tom was in his arms, smothering his mouth with a hungry, desperate kiss.

"Four minutes," Chakotay warned, when he broke free of Tom's suctioning lips to grab a breath. "Then an alert will sound in Security."

Bitter frustration flashed over Tom's features, followed just as swiftly by a wry grin.

"Then let's stop wasting time," Tom purred, sinking to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Chakotay asked stupidly, as Tom began wrestling with Chakotay's pants.

Tom didn't even bother replying, not that he could have anyway with his mouth filled by Chakotay's cock.

~~~

"May I speak with you, Lieutenant?" Tuvok's voice rang from down the corridor.

Tom froze halfway into his quarters, fixed a blank look on his face and turned to greet the Vulcan. He pointedly didn't step back to allow Tuvok inside, deciding that keeping the conversation in the corridor would keep it short and hopefully unproductive.

"Crewman Ashmore went to see the Captain this morning," Tuvok said, gesturing vaguely that Tom should step back and let him in.

"Really?" Tom said coolly, pretending not to notice the gesture.

"He was concerned about an incident that happened yesterday," Tuvok explained.

"Incident?" Tom asked innocently.

"Apparently he had to leave you alone in a turbolift with the Commander and he was sufficiently concerned about the situation to inform the Captain."

"Chakotay and I both work on the Bridge," Tom replied. "It's inevitable that we will sometimes share lifts, and equally inevitable that we will sometimes be alone in them."

Tuvok nodded.

"Nothing happened. I'm still in one piece. I haven't slit my wrists," Tom said, deciding a sarcastic offence was the best defense. "Do you want to check for yourself?"

"I checked the computer, there is no record of the lift halting, neither has the Doctor advised me of any problem with your daily medical," Tuvok replied, completely unembarrassed about his blithe admission of having already spied on Tom. "However, for your own safety and to prevent the possibility of any future unfortunate occurrence, the Captain has asked me to install monitoring devices inside the lifts. I decided it was only courteous to advise you."

As Tuvok turned and strode away, Tom sagged against the doorframe. He knew. Somehow, the bastard knew.

Even so, it was weird that he'd warned Tom about installing the cameras.

~~~

"Poker," Chakotay asked cautiously.

"Yes, Poker," Harry agreed. "Tom said you knew the game well."

Chakotay flushed with mingled anger and embarrassment.

"So?" he hissed.

"So B'Elanna and I were hoping you'd come over to our quarters and play tonight, since we're all off duty."

Chakotay shook his head.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Kim, and I also appreciate your continued efforts to befriend me in public, but I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, and B'El will be really pissed with you if you refuse," Harry replied staunchly. "We can't play alone and besides, I already told Tom you'd be there," he added in a near whisper.

"Tom?" Chakotay choked, then looked around warily to see whether anyone had heard him. Fortunately, everyone was still deliberately ignoring him, despite the fact that Tom had been back on duty for two weeks.

"I know they're monitoring you both, but you're allowed to socialize with each other in company. As long as there's four life-signs in our quarters there's no reason they'll suspect it's anything more than a friendly game of Poker."

"I…I…" Chakotay was speechless, he had to shake himself visibly to force back the tears of relief that were prickling at his eyes.

Harry reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Be strong," he whispered. "Tom needs you."

~~~

Chakotay barely stepped through the door to Harry and B'Elanna's quarters before he was almost bowled over by six foot of hurtling pilot. Tom wrapped himself around the older man, his lips and tongue devouring Chakotay's, his erection so prominent and hard through his trousers that it almost bruised Chakotay's hips as it ground against them. Chakotay realized there was little likelihood of them playing poker after all.

Tom refused to let him go, but he stilled enough in Chakotay's arms to allow Chakotay to speak to B'Elanna. Harry was awkwardly pretending to be busy with the deck of cards, his face flushed scarlet from witnessing Tom's display of wanton desire.

"We can't leave you completely alone," B'Elanna explained, "but the security sensors on this deck aren't precise enough to tell whether we're in the same room. I'm going to put some music on in here so that you have some privacy. There's fresh sheets and everything you need in the bedroom, including a fully charged regenerator since the Doctor is bound to find an excuse to give Tom a full examination tomorrow when he finds out you were here. Don't worry if you fall asleep, we'll come and wake you if it gets too late."

"Why are you doing this?" Chakotay asked, once again having to battle tears of relief at this totally unexpected kindness.

B'Elanna shrugged.

"Because we love Tom, and he loves *you*, and besides, it feels good to get one over on Starfleet."

"Thank you," Chakotay said. The words sounded inadequate, even to himself, but he couldn't think of anything else to say, not with Tom squirming in his arms, his tongue hot on Chakotay's neck and his cock so aroused that Chakotay could feel the damp trace of Tom's pre-cum seeping through his own uniform. So he just swung Tom up into his arms and carried him into Harry and B'Elanna's bedroom.

Tom was trembling so much he could barely undress himself and as soon as Chakotay had stripped and revealed his own jutting, hungry cock, Tom just froze, too overwhelmed to even continue trying to remove his own clothes. He simply stood there, like a starving man presented with an unexpected feast and tears began to trickle down his face.

"God, I've missed you," he whispered helplessly.

Chakotay stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug, trying to infuse Tom's trembling body with his own strength.

"What do you want, Tom?" he asked gently. "How do you want me to be?" Tom seemed so fragile, so lost, that Chakotay was suddenly uncertain whether Tom really wanted anything more than a hug.

Tom pulled back and spoke clearly as he finished pulling off his pants.

"I don't want you to fuck me through the mattress, Chak," he said quietly. Then, before Chakotay could promise he'd be gentle, Tom continued. "I want you to fuck me into the next DECK."

Chakotay roared with laughter. "I think that would put us somewhere in the middle of Sickbay. We'd end up humping right in front of the Doctor."

"I know," Tom replied with a smirk.

A new worry struck Chakotay.

"It's been weeks, Tom. You're going to be tight. Are you sure you can handle me being rough?"

Tom's smirk just increased.

"I know I got thrown out of the Academy, Chak, but I still remember the cadet drill about always being prepared."

He bent over the mattress of the bed, spreading his legs wide to reveal the fat, glistening end of a well-lubed butt plug. Chakotay leaned forward and worked it carefully free, his own cock jumping at the guttural sounds Tom made as the rubber plug scraped over his prostate. Chakotay gazed in disbelief at the plug.

"How the hell did you walk with that inside you?" Chakotay asked.

"Chak?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna talk all night?" Tom asked plaintively.

Chakotay chuckled.

"Not all night, no," he assured Tom, proving his point by bending between Tom's open legs and licking the back of his scrotum. Tom squealed in surprise, arched his back and wriggled his ass pointedly. Chakotay decided to save the teasing for another night, pressed his cock against the well-lubed entrance of Tom's ass and drove home to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

Tom screamed and howled so loudly, as Chakotay took him with the relentless passion of six weeks of deprivation, that even the loud music in the next room didn't mask the sounds. When they finally emerged back into the living room after a long session with the shower and the regenerator, it was hard to tell who blushed more, Tom or Harry. B'Elanna on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear.

"Hell, Tom. If I'd known you were THAT hot in bed, I would have kept you," she laughed, although she squeezed Harry's hand tightly to reassure him she was joking. Kind of.

"I don't know how to thank you guys," Tom whispered, still blushing sheepishly but too ecstatic to worry about something as irrelevant as embarrassment.

"No problem," Harry said. "I think maybe we should play Poker EVERY Saturday from now on, don't you?"

And so, a new but infinitely sweeter version of Poker Night was born

~~~

Several months later, the four friends were sat in Harry and B'Elanna's living room, sipping wine. Tom, still flushed from the shower and the earlier sex, was curled on the floor at Chakotay's feet, his head resting on Chakotay's thigh with such obvious devotion that it hurt to observe.

"What are you going to do?" B'Elanna asked.

Chakotay stroked Tom's head and stayed quiet, leaving the younger man to reply.

"I've got my six month medical next week. The Doctor has no excuse to refuse to cite me fully sane. It means the Captain's temporary guardianship of my affairs will be cancelled and my normal rights will be restored. If I say I want to go out with Chakotay again, she won't be able to refuse."

"She could just have the Doctor pronounce you crazy again," Harry replied.

"No, it doesn't work like that. Unless I do something wrong, she'll have no excuse to have me assessed again, and without the assessment, I can't be found incompetent. She *has* to let me date Chakotay."

"I don't want to rain on your parade, Tom," B'Elanna said, her expression dour, "but I think you are underestimating how much the Captain cares about you."

"Cares about me?" Tom demanded angrily.

"Yes. I know she's been wrong to keep you two apart. If we didn't support you, Harry and I would hardly have been putting our jobs on the line for months to help you see each other in secret. However, the fact remains that everything the Captain has done has been with the best intentions. She's not going to appreciate being made to feel a fool. She's far more likely to read your decision as being proof that you *are* still unwell and she'll find an excuse to have you committed again, even if she has to invent a reason."

"She's right, Tom," Chakotay agreed sadly.

Tom surged to his feet in agitation.

"It's not fair, not fucking fair. I'm going to tell her exactly what she can do with her fucking committal and her *care*. She can stick her fucking care up her fucking.."

"TOM," Chakotay warned.

"I'm sick of this, Chak. Why won't people just leave us alone? I don't…I can't...Oh, shit, Chak, what are we going to do? I can't live like this anymore. Sneaking around. Pretending I don't care about you. It's not fair. It's not fucking FAIR!"

"Tom, calm down," Chakotay said softly, as Tom began pacing up and down the room in increasing panic.

B'Elanna and Harry were exchanging worried glances as Tom's thin veneer of control shattered in front of their eyes.

"It's not fair. Not fair. I won't do it, won't...can't…won't give you up Chak. We're forever. FOREVER!" Tom screamed the last word, his fist powering into the wall of the cabin. Then he howled in pain as his knuckles fractured against the unyielding metal.

Chakotay was already on his feet, charging to Tom's side, grabbing Tom into his arms. Tom struggled like a wild beast, his eyes wild with panic, too blind with terror to recognize his lover. Chakotay swung Tom into his arms, hauled him over to the sofa, and sat down heavily, twisting Tom's squirming body face down over his lap.

He pinned the small of Tom's back with his left hand and used his right to land a firm blow on Tom's backside.

Tom squealed and yelped in protest, the unexpected pain breaking through his panic as Chakotay continued to spank him in front of Harry and B'Elanna's disbelieving eyes.

"OW!" Tom yelled as the sixth blow descended on his thinly padded ass.

Chakotay stopped abruptly and pulled Tom up into his arms.

"Bastard," Tom sniffed but he tucked his head into Chakotay's neck and clung tightly to him for comfort.

"Was that really necessary?" Harry spat, appalled to see his friend disciplined like a hysterical child. Even if Tom *had* been acting like a hysterical child.

Chakotay met his eyes unapologetically.

"I know what Tom needs," he said simply.

"Well what he obviously *doesn't* need is a run in with the Captain," B'Elanna said. "He's not as stable as he looks, is he?"

"Exactly," Chakotay agreed. "If the Captain insists on him having a thorough psychological examination he hasn't got a chance."

"But I thought he was better," Harry said hesitantly.

"He is," Chakotay replied. "The thing is, Harry, that he's never going to be *completely* well. Between his childhood, Caldik Prime, Auckland, the last eight years and then the grand finale of three months as my fuck toy, he's never going to fit any textbook definition of sanity. If he wasn't so fucking strong, smart and brave, he'd be sitting in a padded room just rocking like an idiot."

"Which is how he'll end up if the Captain puts him in the brig to keep him away from you," B'Elanna pointed out.

Harry still looked unconvinced; he was glaring at Chakotay with righteous indignation.

"That doesn't give you the right to hit him," he spat.

Chakotay opened his mouth to defend himself, but it was Tom who interrupted. He twisted on Chakotay's lap so he could look his friend in the eyes, and although his face was still tear-stained, the panic had fled his eyes, replaced by a soft happiness.

"He's got the right, Harry, because I gave him the right. I'm his, and he's mine, and we need each other," Tom said with quiet dignity.

Harry swallowed, unable to deny even to himself that Chakotay had known how to calm and comfort Tom, even if his methods seemed bizarre.

"What are you going to do, Tom?" he asked.

Tom twisted to look searchingly at Chakotay's face, but the older man just smiled gently, allowing Tom to decide for himself.

"We're going to have to get off the ship," Tom replied finally.

"Leave Voyager?" Harry asked in horror.

Tom shrugged.

"Maybe, unless we can somehow get ourselves married."

"Married?" Harry said in confusion.

Now it was Chakotay who explained.

"Kathryn obviously won't agree to marry us, but once Tom gets diagnosed as competent we could jump ship on some planet and get ourselves married. Then, even if Tom is later judged insane, *I* become his legal guardian."

"We can't be separated," Tom added. "Starfleet rules are clear about non-interference between married couples."

"Sounds like a plan," B'Elanna agreed. "Let's hope we come across a suitable planet soon."

"And stay there long enough for Tom and Chakotay to do it," Harry pointed out.

"Well," Tom said thoughtfully, "a minor crisis in engineering could ensure we need to stop and trade somewhere long enough for the Captain to agree to general shoreleave."

"You want me to blow up my own engine room? You ARE mad!" B'Elanna spat.

Tom just smiled angelically.


~~~

"Commander?"

The hesitant voice was so quiet that Chakotay barely registered it. He was absorbed in a report of the various items that Voyager was running low on. He had started his search several days earlier to devise a valid reason for stopping at some advanced civilization for trade. The exercise had begun as no more than an excuse to get Tom and himself off the ship but the more he had delved into the information the more he had begun to realize that Voyager had a serious shortage of far more than energy.

The Sickbay was seriously under stocked since their last encounter with the Borg, Neelix's already questionable cooking abilities were being stretched to the limit with the lack of perishable foodstuffs and the engineering sections were now stripping parts from shuttles to keep the main systems running. The skilled crewmembers were devising their own solutions to their individual problems rather than coming to see him, as First Officer, and so had managed to hide the extent of the overall situation.

He was concluding two things from the data. Firstly, that Voyager would eventually grind to a halt unless they stopped somewhere and traded seriously for supplies (regardless of whether the planet suited his own purposes) and secondly that unless he managed to regain the trust or at least the co-operation of the crew, he was going to have to resign as First Officer.

"Commander?"

The voice was still hesitant but now held a slight tone of irritation. It broke through Chakotay's introspection and he looked up in surprise. Other than Tuvok or Kathryn, no one had voluntarily come to his office for months.

"Lieutenant Wildman?"

Sam Wildman gave a nervous smile, her right hand fiddling awkwardly with her unbound blonde hair. So, despite her uniform, she was obviously off-duty, Chakotay concluded. Then he felt a momentary shame that it was only her loose hair that told him the fact. There would once have been a time when he would have known the duty roster of every member of staff. He hadn't been doing his job, he'd allowed his own guilt and shame, not to mention the antipathy of the crew, to affect the performance of his own duties.

Chakotay straightened his shoulders and fixed a welcoming smile on his face, gesturing the young woman to take a seat and deciding to ignore her obvious nervousness and simply do his job. The job he had neglected for far too long.

"Sit down, Lieutenant. How can I help you?"

Sam cautiously seated herself, her awkwardness etched in every line of her body. She chewed hesitantly on her lower lip as her carefully rehearsed words fled in the face of Chakotay's presence.

"Would you like a drink?" Chakotay asked kindly. "Coffee? Tea? Water perhaps?"

Sam flashed him a grateful smile.

"Water," she agreed.

Chakotay fetched a jug of water and two glasses from the replicator. He was pleasantly surprised to note that Sam didn't follow his movements with her eyes, she just continued to look at the seat Chakotay had vacated. It gave him his first clue that her nervousness was not due to being in the same room with him after all and a tiny voice at the back of his head began to niggle him with the thought that perhaps the ongoing awkwardness between himself and the crew was as much his own fault as theirs.

"Thank you," Sam said, as she reached for the water he poured and took a long sip.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Chakotay asked quietly.

Sam blushed and ducked her head.

"I know you've got more important things to worry about," she began hesitantly, "and I've tried to deal with this myself rather than bother you, but whenever I come up with a solution, someone else always has a more important need for the resources and I'm beginning to feel like I'm running around in circles."

"What is the problem?"

"Naomi," Sam admitted. "Don't get me wrong, Sir. Everyone's great with her. Even Seven takes a lot of time with her, but it's not the same. It's not right."

"What's not right?"

"That she's growing up without any formal schooling. I mean, I understand the problems, Sir, but I think her education is important and every time I come up with some schedule that I can work with, either my shifts get changed or my terminal is taken off line because of problems elsewhere on the ship."

"I see," Chakotay said slowly.

"Do you?" Sam asked hesitantly. "I do understand that the situation on board will never be conducive to Naomi having a normal childhood, and in a way I feel that her experiences on Voyager are an education in themselves, but still, when we get home she has to be able to fit in to a normal world too."

"You're right," Chakotay replied. "Let's take a look at your duty schedule and fit it around Naomi's needs. Then when we've established the best time for her schooling I will place a priority code on your own terminal for that period of time. That will prevent routine power re-routing from taking it off line."

The look of complete, bewildered gratitude on Sam Wildman's face was enough for Chakotay to give himself a long overdue kick up the backside. He decided that as soon as he had finished solving her problem he would start summoning the various department heads to his office. If they wouldn't voluntarily come to him with their problems, he would start forcing the issue. It was time to prove that his rank wasn't just a title.

~~~

Tom couldn't hide a wide grin of triumph as he left the Doctor's office holding a data padd that confirmed he was not only cleared for full duty but that he was now judged competent to handle his own affairs. Affairs. He'd had to stifle an inappropriate giggle at the terminology since the only affair he wanted to handle was Chakotay.

He wanted to run to Chakotay's office and wave the padd in his face, wanted to post a ship-wide announcement that from that day forward he would be living with Chakotay again. Instead he quietly returned to his quarters and sent a message to Harry that he would meet him after shift.

~~~

"Ensign Kim?" Chakotay asked formally.

Harry swallowed awkwardly, looking around at the tired faces of the crewmembers who were sifting through the cargo bay under Chakotay's direction.

"Sorry to disturb you, Sir. I thought you were off-duty tonight. I came to invite you to dinner."

He saw the flash of pain in Chakotay's eyes as the older man registered the unspoken message that Tom was waiting for him in Harry and B'Elanna's quarters.

"Good news?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"The best," Harry grinned.

Chakotay closed his eyes in relief, allowing himself just a few seconds to savor Tom's triumph, then he shook himself, looked Harry in the face and gestured helplessly at the surrounding chaos.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't see any of us getting away before midnight. The supply shortage I've been investigating seems to be far more serious than I imagined."

"You've got to eat, though," Harry pointed out loudly, realizing that Chakotay could hardly go off duty and leave the others working but surely no one would resent him disappearing for half-an-hour to eat, freshen up or whatever else Chakotay and Tom could manage in thirty minutes.

It was only when everyone stopped sifting through boxes and glanced surreptitiously over to Chakotay that Harry realized this was about far more than supplies, it was about Chakotay exerting his authority over people who had made no secret of their dislike for him and maintaining his control by proving that he was willing to work along side them.

"Perhaps you could arrange for Neelix to send supper over for all of us, Ensign Kim," Chakotay said quietly. "We're all tired and hungry."

"Of course, Sir. I understand," Harry said formally, giving Chakotay a private nod to say that he would explain the situation to Tom.

~~~

Tom shuffled nervously at the helm. The viewscreen was completely filled by the dominating presence of a warship so huge that it made Voyager look like a shuttle in comparison. The aliens had so far ignored their request to change from verbal to visual communications and the combination of the unfriendly guttural voices coming through the comm. panel and the unmistakable gun ports trained on their own shields was enough to make the entire bridge crew wonder whether their request for peaceful trade was going to end with Voyager simply being vaporized.

It wasn't the general nervousness that was affecting Tom though, it was the fact that the negotiations had been going on for hours with little chance of success and it was now 2145 on Saturday night which meant 'Poker Night' would presumably have to be cancelled for another week.

Tom had understood why Chakotay hadn't been able to meet him on Wednesday, and had managed to hold himself together in anticipation of tonight. The probability of having to wait a whole week more before it would be safe for him to meet with Chakotay out of public scrutiny was too much to face, though, and it was only the sound of Chakotay's calm voice as he negotiated carefully with the suspicious aliens that kept Tom from screaming his frustration out loud.

Chakotay's low, soothing voice seemed to eventually have a similar effect on the aliens. Their earlier hostility had eased somewhat since the Captain's temper had frayed at their continued obstinacy to her own entreaties and she had signaled that Chakotay should take over the conversation from their end, before retiring to her ready room in disgust. Now, several hours later, the aliens finally agreed that Voyager could follow them towards their homeworld to continue the discussion. By that time, the whole crew were in agreement that it would probably be wiser to politely decline and move on to a friendlier world but there didn't seem to be any way of refusing the alien 'invitation'.

"You will follow the proscribed flight pattern. Any deviation from the set course will result in the destruction of your vessel."

Tom shivered slightly at the cold menace of the words. He could feel the eyes of the entire bridge crew fastening on the back of his head as they evidently prayed he wouldn't fuck up. His entire self-confidence collapsed under the obvious doubt of his crewmates and his hands shook as he reached for the helm.

Then a large hand descended on his shoulder and squeezed reassurance. Tom spun his head round to look at Chakotay who had crossed the bridge so quietly that Tom hadn't even heard him approach. Tom beamed at Chakotay's face, drinking in the comfort of Chakotay's smile, then he stiffened as he realized they were being observed.

"Have you fixed the course settings, Lieutenant?" Chakotay asked aloud, while his fingers made their own conversation on Tom's shoulder.

"Yes, Sir," Tom replied, only his sparkling eyes answering Chakotay's secret gesture of love and faith.

"Then proceed," Chakotay said, giving one last squeeze before returning to his seat.

~~~

Kathryn regarded the somber faces of the Senior Staff and sighed internally. She knew the whole crew had been looking forward to the idea of some shore leave and the Carskoni's absolute refusal to allow anyone to descend to the planet below was going to cause a lot of resentment.

"Please advise your individual departments that as soon as the negotiations are complete and we have traded with the Carskoni, we will leave this system and find an uninhabited m-type planet to orbit while we implement the systems repairs. We can't turn down the technology they are offering us but we can wait until we are at a more hospitable planet before installing it."

Her decision was met with general smiles of relief. Only Tuvok noted the look of despair that crossed Tom's face at the news. He then saw Chakotay shift slightly in his seat and from the immediate mask of bland indifference that shuttered over Tom's features, Tuvok concluded that Chakotay had kicked Tom under the table.

Observing the exchange, Tuvok's suspicions crystallized into certainty.

~~~

"Typical," Harry spat.

"What is?" B'Elanna asked, her voice muffled by the wardrobe as she rummaged frantically for shoes to match her only decent dress.

"We sit here, twiddling our thumbs for three days and now, when the trading is finally over and we're preparing to leave, the Carskoni decide to invite us down to the planet after all."

"Well only the Senior Crew," B'Elanna pointed out, "and the Captain didn't even want to agree to that since it leaves Voyager vulnerable."

"Since we're surrounded by Carskoni warships that could blow us out of the sky, we can hardly be any more vulnerable anyway," Harry griped.

"Which is why she finally agreed," B'Elanna said. "Do you think these shoes are better?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said helplessly, not seeing any significant difference from the last three pairs. "I just feel bad for Tom and Chakotay."

"The dinner is only going to be three hours, Harry. They could hardly do anything significant in that amount of time and Carskon doesn't seem to be the kind of place you'd want to abscond to anyway."

"I know," Harry agreed. "Still, it seems weird that Tuvok made such a point about not letting Tom attend. If the Carskoni can't be trusted, it's hardly going to make any difference whether our pilot is on the surface or on Voyager, is it?"

"Well, whatever his reason was for interfering, Chakotay stopped arguing with him after he went down to the surface himself."

"Yeah, that's weird too, isn't it? Chakotay was screaming blue murder about Tom's exclusion and then suddenly changed his mind completely. What do you think that means?"

"It means he obviously doesn't plan to run away with Tom on Carskon," B'Elanna replied. "I'm sure we'll soon find out why for ourselves."

~~~

Kathryn gestured Tuvok to a seat and gave him a smile of invitation to unburden himself. Despite the typical lack of expression on his face, she had known him too long not to sense his discomfort.

"What's on your mind, Tuvok?" she asked. "Is this about your reasons for excluding Tom from the Carskoni's invitation?"

"The Commander's own report on the aliens is sufficient reason to refuse Mr. Paris's participation in tonight's festivity. It is a logical assumption that he would find the situation disturbing in view of his own experiences."

"I find it disturbing myself, Tuvok. Had I realized the Carskoni had a culture based on slavery I wouldn't have entered negotiations with them. I certainly am not looking forward to spending an evening with people who believe it is acceptable to own another person. We can't refuse their hospitality now, however. Offending them would put Voyager in too much danger."

"I concur. It is not our position to make moral judgments on other civilizations, Captain. From what the Commander has described, the Carskoni are not barbaric and although it was obvious that there are two distinct castes, slaves and masters, he saw no evidence of cruelty and no suggestion that the slaves are discontent. His main concern relates to how Lieutenant Paris would react to the situation."

Kathryn nodded thoughtfully.

"I agree with both of you that Tom should stay on Voyager," she replied. "What I still want to know, though, is why you made that decision *before* you discovered the situation below. For some reason you were adamant that Tom shouldn't leave the ship and I want to know why."

His completely unexpected answer sent her reeling into her own chair.

"If Mr. Paris were to resume his relationship with the Commander, what would your reaction be?" Tuvok asked.

"Has he spoken to you?" Kathryn asked, as she gathered her thoughts from where they had immediately scattered in panic.

"No," Tuvok replied. "I am asking the question as a theoretical point, at the moment."

"Then my truthful reply would be that I would do everything within my power to keep them apart," Kathryn replied finally.

Tuvok merely nodded thoughtfully, as though her answer had been expected. He steepled his fingers, narrowing his eyes as he pondered carefully how to continue the conversation.

"May I point out that your decisions regarding the handling of Mr. Paris have been inconsistent, Captain. It was, if you recall, your own suggestion that their relationship be resumed after the Commander's suicide attempt."

"I did what seemed best at the time. Chakotay was suicidal, Tom was suffering from clinical depression, allowing them to continue their relationship seemed the only way to save them both," Kathryn said defensively.

"Yet, you then decided that their relationship was harmful."

"It was harmful to Tom. What the hell was I supposed to do? Stand back and watch a member of my crew carving words into his own flesh? It was obvious that Chakotay had found some way to deal with his own guilt, he was no longer likely to take his life. My decision had to be based on what I judged best for Tom. This last six months has proven me right. He's back at the helm, his response times are almost back to normal. I don't expect him to simply "get over" Chakotay, but I'm putting my foot down here. Whatever the Doctor says about Tom's mental health, the idea of allowing Tom to resume his relationship with Chakotay is out of the question."

"It is not your decision to make," Tuvok replied quietly.

"WHAT?" Kathryn demanded, her whole body stiffening with outrage.

"Personal relationships between crewmembers, unless proven to be detrimental to the welfare of the entire crew, are not under the jurisdiction of the Captain. While the Lieutenant was judged mentally incompetent, you had the authority to decide who he did or did not socialize with. Now he has passed the Doctor's assessment, your autonomy over his personal life has been cancelled."

"You said it yourself, Tuvok, 'unless proven to be detrimental to the welfare of the entire crew' and I think the possible suicide of Voyager's best pilot is detrimental, don't you?" Kathryn spat.

"Mr. Paris's actions during his illness are not admissible now as justification for that decision. It is the professional opinion of the Doctor that Mr. Paris is now capable of stable and intelligent choices in his personal life."

"The Doctor who just happened to also tell me that Tom was having a breakdown and advised me to put him in Chakotay's hands in the first place. He's a hologram, Tuvok," Kathryn replied angrily.

"Are you inferring that the Doctor's programming has been interfered with to sway his decision?" Tuvok asked, his shoulders stiffening in personal affront.

"No, of course not. I know you have taken personal responsibility for ensuring that the Doctor cannot be interfered with and I have complete trust in you, my friend," Kathryn assured him hurriedly.

"Then your difficulty is clearly a lack of faith in yourself."

Kathryn's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to violently deny the accusation. Then she sighed and shrank slightly in her seat, an aura of haunted doubt settling over her like a tangible weight.

"Of course I lack faith in myself. It's my fault, Tuvok. All of it. I'm the Captain of this ship, Tom's superior officer. The day I offered him his commission I told him he was safe on board Voyager. I vowed to protect him, I even assured him that Chakotay would be his personal protector. I was blind, Tuvok. I saw nothing. I knew Tom was the most vulnerable member of this merged crew and should have expected problems. The retrieved files from Sickbay prove that Tom spent the first six months of our Voyage being systematically abused by the Maquis, to the point of almost dying on several occasions, and I knew nothing. NOTHING!" She slammed her right palm down on her desk to emphasize her frustration.

"The Lieutenant chose not to inform you of the abuse, Captain. I could go as far as suggesting that he made every effort to conceal his problems from you," Tuvok pointed out in a mild voice.

"Because he didn't trust me, Tuvok. Hardly surprising, is it? I'd promised him safety and then I'd thrown him to the wolves. No wonder he saw me as his enemy too. Then, despite him spending several years proving his value as an officer, his strength and his talent as a pilot, I never questioned the Doctor's diagnosis of his nervous breakdown. I gave him to Chakotay, Tuvok. I virtually gift-wrapped and delivered him for that abuse."

"I also was completely fooled by the situation," Tuvok replied. "The Commander managed to conceal his illness from the entire crew. I was under-cover on the Crazy Horse before you even met the Commander. To that extent, my own failure to identify his madness is greater than your own."

"But you're not the Captain. It wasn't *your* responsibility, it was mine. I don't sleep, you know? I close my eyes and all I see is the hell Tom went through because *I* didn't do my duty to him, because I failed him. I can't forgive myself, Tuvok."

"And you are now trying to compensate for your own guilt by denying Tom the right to make his own choices."

"Is that so wrong? How the hell can I stand back and just let him be destroyed? I have failed Tom Paris since the first day he set foot on my ship. I refuse to fail him again. I have to do what I judge is right, not what Tom says he wants. He's lost the ability to know what is right or wrong for him," Kathryn explained. "Whatever happiness Tom and Chakotay could find together isn't worth the risk to Tom's sanity if it goes wrong again."

"And when did you gain the ability to make the correct choices on his behalf, Captain?"

Kathryn reeled as though Tuvok had slapped her. She gazed at him in disbelief as he continued his unexpected verbal attack.

"Since you have already admitted that your decisions relating to Mr. Paris have been consistently erroneous, it is unlikely that your current decision is any more correct. You are still allowing your decisions to be based upon emotions rather than facts. While I do not agree with the extent of culpability that you choose to lay at your own feet, if you continue to use that personal guilt to influence your decisions to the point of bending Starfleet Rules, I predict that the outcome will be injurious to us all."

"Are you making a formal protest, Tuvok?" Kathryn snarled, her whole body tensing in anticipation of a bitter argument.

"I believe such an action would be irrelevant Captain. As you have already stated, it would be detrimental for Voyager to lose Lieutenant Paris. It would be possibly more detrimental to lose the Commander, yet the proscribing of their relationship will inevitably cause both men to chose to leave the ship," Tuvok replied calmly.

"Nonsense. Neither of them argued with my decision to separate them six months ago. They both are continuing their duties. There's no reason to believe they even want to resume their relationship. It's been a week since Tom's assessment and he hasn't as much as suggested that he wants to see Chakotay again. Chakotay himself has finally started to overcome the antipathy of the crew. These past few days he's been running people ragged over the supplies problem and I've received barely a handful of complaints. As far as I can see, they are both determined to just get on with their own lives."

"Your statement is erroneous, Captain, because you are not fully aware of several relevant facts."

"Such as?"

"The fact that Lieutenant Paris and Commander Chakotay have been meeting each other surreptitiously for over five months. From their failure to request official sanction of their relationship, I conclude that their intention has been to resign from their posts and leave Voyager. Although the supply problem is genuine, I believe that the Commander's decision to investigate it was initially inspired by his desire to find an excuse to stop at an advanced civilization where he and Mr. Paris can begin a life together. That is why I initially prevented Mr. Paris's inclusion in tonight's event. I was concerned that if they both disembarked, they would possibly not return to the ship."

"I don't believe it."

"It is, however, the truth."

"How long have you known?"

"I have been constantly aware of their subterfuge," Tuvok admitted.

"And you didn't tell me? I thought I could trust you, Tuvok. Now it turns out that you've been betraying me for months?" Kathryn accused, her cheeks flushing with rage.

"It was not betrayal, Captain. It was the logical response to the situation."

"And how the hell do you figure that?" she demanded.

"The situation with Mr. Paris and your personal feelings of guilt were affecting your performance as Captain of the ship. Informing you of their continued assignations would merely have increased the pressure that you were already under. I made the decision to monitor the situation personally and advise you only if I saw a problem develop."

"You saw no problem in the fact that they were breaking my orders?"

"As I have already stated, I do not believe the mandate of a Captain includes interference in emotional attachments. The only justification for your order was to protect Mr. Paris from harm. The decision to separate him from the Commander was based on emotion. Logic suggested that it was an inappropriate reaction to the situation."

"So you're saying you personally decided my order was illogical and disobeyed it?"

"*I* did not disobey, Captain. I merely observed," Tuvok replied, with a barely perceptible shrug.

"Why didn't you bring this 'observation' to my attention months ago?"

"Because the subterfuge in itself has been beneficial to several important members of this crew, not least yourself. You have been unencumbered by the knowledge so have not been forced to agree to a situation which could have escalated back into tragedy. The only way to enforce their separation, given their determination to continue their relationship, would have been to arrest one or the other for disobeying your orders. I could not have agreed with the decision to incarcerate the Commander for breaking an order that you were exceeding your authority in issuing. You could have isolated Mr. Paris since he was completely under your authority due to his illness. That, however, would have probably sent Mr. Paris further into a state of depression and Voyager would have lost her best pilot."

"So you took it upon yourself to let them see each other in secret, knowing that Tom was still unstable and might have harmed himself again?" Kathryn snarled.

"I have been monitoring them constantly. Had their relationship proven to be detrimental, I would have admitted my knowledge, accepted the blame for allowing the situation to develop and you would have been spared the additional guilt. The necessity to keep the relationship secret has had several salutary effects. Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres have been actively encouraging and facilitating the relationship. In this way they have found some manner of personal redemption for their own feelings of guilt. You are not the only person who feels responsible for what happened to Mr. Paris."

"So these Poker Evenings were actually four members of my own crew defying my explicit orders?" Kathryn demanded, her eyes narrowing in fury.

"If you choose to see it that way, Captain."

"How the hell else am I supposed to see it?"

"Another benefit of the subterfuge is that the relationship has proceeded slowly and with care," Tuvok continued, deliberately ignoring the question. "Because of the need for secrecy and the constant chaperonage, the progression of the relationship has been cautious. The resolve of both parties has been tested. Had their need for each other merely been physical attraction, the difficulty of their assignations would have caused them to move on to new partnerships. In the adversity of this enforced separation, their feelings for each other have deepened."

"So why haven't they simply started dating again now that the Doctor has removed Tom from my guardianship?"

"I suspect that they believe you will interfere, Captain. As indeed you have already said that you would."

"Look, Tuvok. I'm pissed as hell at you, make no mistake. You *will* pay for this deceit," Kathryn growled

"I do not doubt it," Tuvok replied calmly.

"But, I'm honest enough to admit that I'm relieved they took the decision out of my hands. All I wanted, all I *ever* wanted, was to put things right for Tom. The fact that I haven't known about the relationship hopefully means it hasn't harmed either of them since the Doctor has been monitoring Tom for evidence of any physical abuse, particularly self-inflicted injuries."

"Then you will advise them that their relationship may continue?"

"No," Kathryn replied.

Tuvok blinked in disbelief.

"I understand your decision not to interfere, Tuvok. It was 'logical', just as it seems logical to me not to interfere either. So they can do what they want but I refuse to officially sanction it."

"Why?"

"Because the very fact that Tom is still so obsessed with Chakotay tells me that the Doctor's assessment of his mental state is wrong. No one could forgive what Chakotay did, Tuvok. No one could suffer what Tom suffered and come out of the experience with true feelings of love for his captor, no matter what extenuating circumstances existed."

"In your opinion," Tuvok interrupted.

Kathryn shrugged. "It's up to them to prove me wrong, isn't it?"

"So you will neither prevent their relationship nor condone it?"

"As you have already pointed out, Tuvok, my own interference in this has never done any good. As long as they can both do their jobs, as long as Tom remains stable, I'll turn a blind eye and allow the situation to develop naturally."

"Yet in failing to advise them of your decision, you will force them to continue their subterfuge," Tuvok pointed out.

"It's up to them to fight for what they want, Tuvok. If they aren't prepared to stand up to me publicly then their relationship will never survive anyway."

"So, if they force your hand you will concede?"

"Perhaps," Kathryn allowed.

~~~

"You can't," Tom replied, as the Captain told him of her decision. "You said the Carskoni had demanded the presence of *all* Voyager's officers. So that means I need to be included in the away team too. You can't single me out like this. You don't have the right to make decisions for me any more."

Kathryn reined in her automatic anger at Tom's insubordination and forced herself to reply civilly to his protest. Despite Tom's angry words, it was obvious that he was deeply distressed by her decision and she was beginning to wonder whether it was possible to even make a right choice in the minefield of Tom's emotional reactions.

What was the point of protecting him from possible distress on the surface of Carskon if the decision to do so upset him so much anyway? Kathryn wondered glumly, feeling the first twinges of a headache starting to hammer behind her eye sockets. Even so, Chakotay's detailed description of what he had observed on the planet, when he'd returned from his trade negotiation on the surface bearing the 'invitation' of the Carskoni, was enough for Kathryn to be sure Carskon wasn't a place that Tom would enjoy visiting.

If there had been any polite way to decline the Carskoni invitation, none of the crew would be descending to the planet anyway. It was only the implication that a refusal of the invitation would be seen as a gross insult that had made Kathryn agree to attend at all. Since Voyager was completely outgunned by the surrounding Carskoni vessels, the risk of a possible trap was far outweighed by the chance to establish a friendly rapport with the aliens, but Kathryn had no illusions about the possible danger to them all.

It was a delicate situation in which a mere cultural misunderstanding could prove fatal to the whole crew. Which was why she couldn't take the risk that Tom might over-react to the conditions on the surface and create a diplomatic incident.

"As the Captain of this ship I have the right to decide the displacement of any of my officers, Mr. Paris, and as Tuvok pointed out, your position as Chief Helmsman makes you invaluable to the ship," she replied, appealing to Tom's ego in an attempt to soften the blow of his exclusion.

"More valuable than the Captain and First Officer, let alone all the other officers on board?" Tom scoffed, having little genuine ego to be stroked. "I know exactly why you've chosen to exclude me, Captain and I want to make a formal protest."

"A what?" Kathryn demanded in disbelief.

"For the last six months I've agreed to you treating me like I'm a liability, Captain, but the Doctor's given me a clean bill of health. Your decision to exclude me from the away team just proves that you still don't trust me and maybe never will. Come to think of it, maybe you never did," Tom said bitterly.

During the last few months, in the enforced loneliness of his existence between Saturday nights, Tom had found himself with a lot of time to think about things and try to put his experiences in perspective. The one fact that had begun to prey heaviest on his mind was that despite Chakotay's clever manipulation of people's perceptions, if anyone had ever really trusted him, no-one would have simply accepted the diagnosis of his so-called nervous breakdown.

The way Tom saw it, the general willingness to believe him so mentally unstable that he should simply be discarded into Chakotay's 'care' and forgotten about, proved that no one had ever truly seen him as more than a traitor and coward despite all the years he had spent trying to prove himself a reformed character.

The vengeful ghosts of Caldik Prime were still exacting their bitter revenge and he was beginning to believe that he would never escape the indelible stain of one tragic mistake that had set his feet on a spiraling pattern of self-destruction. It didn't matter what he did, no one would ever forgive him that error or ever truly believe that he was worthy of a genuine new start.

The Captain had given him a Lieutenant's rank and had pretended to have faith in him, but the moment someone accused him of being unstable it hadn't even occurred to her to doubt the fact. Tom was sure that the Captain would never have simply given up on Tuvok or Harry in the same circumstances. The obvious difference between his own perceived stability and that of the rest of the crew could only be explained by his own past.

Tom Paris, the Admiral's fuck-up son, the murderer and liar of Caldik Prime, the would-be Maquis who got caught on his very first mission and then sold out his own former comrades just to escape the hell of his life in Auckland. Yeah, with a pedigree like that, who the hell wouldn't believe that he was just as likely to have a nervous breakdown? His own history suggested that in times of crisis Tom Paris simply fell apart and it seemed that all his subsequent years of proving himself a good and valued officer, when weighed on the scale of probability, had failed to make any true impression against the crew's original impression of him as unreliable.

Of course, the fact that he had then *really* had a breakdown probably made the crew feel less guilty about falling for Chakotay's ruse. Tom suspected that a lot of their reaction was due to fear. Just like at Caldik Prime. Rather than accept that anyone could have an accident flying a shuttle and then tell a stupid lie out of fear, people had preferred to cast Tom as a villain. That way they didn't have to face the idea that it could have happened to themselves just as easily. In the same way, it was easier for people to believe that Tom was already mentally unstable than face the fact that any one of them could suffer a similar experience and be as adversely affected by it.

By labeling him as mad, and therefore different from them, it was easier for the rest of the crew to see his abuse at Chakotay's hands as an isolated incident. There was pity for him, sure, but the overwhelming feeling that Tom experienced was that everyone believed it had only happened to him *because* he was Tom Paris.

Even Harry and B'Elanna were guilty of treating him as though in some way the whole experience had been his own fault. As much as he appreciated their support over the last few months, there had still always been an unspoken censure behind their kind smiles. They gave him sympathy rather than empathy because they simply couldn't see themselves behaving as he had in the same situation. He avoided them now, except when he needed their chaperonage to prevent anyone questioning the fact that he and Chakotay were in the same room.

It made him feel a little guilty, as though he was using them, but the truth was that without the buffer of Chakotay between himself and his interaction with the other crew, Tom was still finding it almost impossible to maintain civil conversations off-duty. The truth, perhaps, was that he had found it in his heart to forgive Chakotay but he was finding it a hell of a lot harder to forgive everyone else. It wasn't so much the fact that they had abandoned him to the wolf, as much as that in doing so they had proven that none of them really liked or cared about him anyway. It made their current sympathy for his situation seem less like friendship and more like an overcompensating guilt because they had let something unpleasant happen to an unpopular crewmember. So now they were pretending to like him, simply to soothe their own consciences.

Tom had walked into rooms and caught the tail-end of enough hastily ended conversations to realize that the feeling of mild distaste towards him was general all over the ship. People weren't saying "Isn't it terrible what Chakotay did?" they were saying "Isn't it terrible what Tom let Chakotay do?" The general consensus seemed to be that any 'normal' person would rather have died than submit to the abuse Tom had suffered. Rather than face the reality that they would have been as terrified and helpless in the same situation, they preferred to see Tom's survival as proof that he was already unstable when Chakotay had taken him.

Tom didn't believe the Captain was among his detractors. For one thing she was aware of far more details of his captivity than were publicly known. He knew the Captain felt genuine guilt over what had happened and that her current decisions, even those pertaining to his relationship with Chakotay, were inspired by a sense of responsibility. As B'Elanna had said, the Captain 'cared' about him. The problem was that Tom didn't want to be 'cared for' as though he was no more than an awkward problem that wouldn't go away.

He wanted the respect of the Captain, he wanted her faith in his abilities, he wanted his rank to mean what he'd imagined it did when she originally offered it. At the time, he'd believed in Janeway. He'd truly thought she was giving him a fresh start. In retrospect he was beginning to believe it had been no more than a subtle bribery to keep him under control. Stuck in the Delta Quadrant, with the necessity to combine the Maquis and Starfleet Crews into one, Janeway had probably seen him as just one more problem to contend with. Given the choice between keeping him in the brig or putting him to work, she had offered the Lieutenant's rank simply to make him so grateful that when she said 'jump', he'd say 'how high?'

It seemed so obvious now, looking back, that she'd played him for a fool with her outrageous generosity. He'd have been content simply by the offer to be allowed to fly the ship as a crewman, or maybe an Ensign even, but to have been made the Chief Helmsman, put fourth in the line of command for the ship, should have rung warning bells in his head then and there. Tom was damned certain that if anything had ever happened to Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok, the rest of the crew would have spaced him before accepting his orders.

Accepting that though, that his promotion had just been a bone offered him to keep him obedient, wasn't the problem. Janeway had done exactly the same when she had made the Maquis her crew. Both decisions had been classic Starfleet. Keep your enemies right under your nose, flatter them with your supposed trust and give them better treatment than they can rightfully expect just to keep them docile. No, the problem was that over the years the Maquis had managed to shed their criminal pasts and become respected members of the crew, while he, Tom Paris, was still just perceived as a fuck-up loser with a fancy title.

Tom was honest enough to know that his perception of the situation was probably tainted by his experiences over the last year. No matter that he had fooled the Doctor into giving him a clean bill of health, Tom knew in himself that there was still something seriously off-kilter in his own psyche. It was as though he'd managed to drag enough publicly respectable behavior patterns onto his outward demeanor that he could play the role expected of him, but he felt like an actor playing a role. Under his calm exterior, fear still scuttled constantly like a frantic spider, burrowing deep enough in the recesses of his own mind to avoid detection but never truly leaving him, except when Chakotay was by his side.

Sometimes he worried that his dependence on Chakotay proved his detractors to be correct. Yet, his need for the Commander didn't *feel* unhealthy, it felt more right than anything in his previous experience. He'd spent his whole life trying to stand alone and all it had ever brought him was pain and heartache. He'd never loved before, never trusted before, and the fact that he felt incomplete and vulnerable without Chakotay didn't mean he was less of a person. Truth was, he'd always felt incomplete and vulnerable but had hidden it behind a veneer of cocky indifference. Surely the fact that he was finally facing the truth that he *needed* another person to ground him was actually a step forward. He was beginning to accept that it was his nature to need the love and approval of another person to make his own life seem worthwhile.

Maybe that was the real reason for his own fucked up life. Perhaps if his own family had given him just a tiny measure of the affection that Chakotay offered him, Caldik Prime would never have happened. If he had believed in himself, if he had believed himself worthy of love back then, he'd never have been tempted to try and win the approval of his peers by an act of reckless bravado.

His love for Chakotay wasn't a weakness, except in the fact that his own inexperience with the emotion left him ill-equipped to handle his feelings. Impossible to try to explain to the rest of the crew that he'd never been loved before and so was unfamiliar with the concept, without simply adding to the general consensus that he was a sad pitiable figure who should spend the rest of his life in a soft padded room.

He wanted people to see that his choice of Chakotay as his lover was the sane and rational choice of a man who finally knew his own mind, not the desperate act of a shell-shocked victim who was just clinging onto Chakotay's shirt-tail because he was too afraid to let go and face life on his own.

"You don't trust me," Tom repeated, and the fact that his words were the truth simply made them a sharper dagger into Kathryn's already beleaguered soul.

Kathryn bit back her automatic response that she was hardly likely to trust him given his subterfuge for the last five months. She wasn't prepared to open that particular can of worms yet. Chakotay's reaction to the conditions on the surface at least reassured her that Tom's insistence on being included in the away team wasn't an attempt to abscond from the ship.

Given that understanding, it was easier to look at it from Tom's point of view. With every other officer attending the Carskoni ceremony, it was painfully obvious to everyone that Tom's own exclusion was based upon concern over his emotional state. Kathryn knew Tom believed his absence on the away mission would be a public setback to the progress he was making in regaining the respect of the rest of the crew. Since the last six months hadn't yet convinced Tom that the whole crew were genuinely impressed with how well he had pulled himself back together, there was no point in assuring Tom that no one would think any less of him for not attending. All she could do was make sure that Tom accepted her decision and she wasn't above using a little emotional blackmail of her own.

"It's not a matter of trust. Even Chakotay agrees that it would be unwise for you to join tonight's festivities," she pointed out.

Tom blinked in confusion at her choice of argument. He hadn't spoken to Chakotay privately for nine days and unless some miracle occurred he wasn't expecting to get an opportunity to be alone with him before Saturday. His initial reaction to Kathryn's words, that if Chakotay didn't want him to go then he wouldn't, was quickly swept away by his overall feeling of resentment over his enforced separation from the older man. He had no illusions that he would get the opportunity to do more than exchange idle chat with Chakotay in front of the other officers and the alien hosts but, even so, the idea of spending the evening in the same room with his lover was better than sitting alone in his quarters and screaming his frustration at the walls.

"Why?" Tom demanded.

"Because it appears from what Chakotay observed that the Carskoni practice a wide-spread and public system of slavery, Tom. He says that each of the officials we are dining with will be attended by a personal slave. Under the circumstances we believe that the situation will be too reminiscent of your experiences during Chakotay's illness."

"I see," Tom said slowly, his face draining of color.

"So you understand our decision?" Kathryn asked hopefully.

"No," Tom replied proudly. "I understand that you would be concerned about my reaction if you still believed me incapable of dealing with my own experiences. Since I have proven that I have come to terms with what happened to me, I find your decision to be a personal insult. You have decided that I will fail to act appropriately and that shows that you have no faith in me."

"Can't you simply see that it's a measure of how much we care about you that we want to save you from a potentially distressing situation?"

"No," Tom replied. "All I see is that every senior member of staff is being invited to this dinner except me. That doesn't tell me you care, it just says you don't trust me."

~~~

It was one thing winning the argument, quite another to put his success into action, Tom decided, as he gazed helplessly at the items in his wardrobe. He'd not cared about his appearance in over a year except for the need to hide his dramatic weight loss. The only public socializing he had done for months had been his 'Poker Nights' and all he had been interested in then was putting on clothes that could be removed in the shortest possible time.

So it was only now, with barely fifteen minutes before the away team were due to descend to Carskon, that he finally realized he had nothing suitable to wear.

He laughed a little hysterically at the thought. It reminded him too much of how B'Elanna used to spend hours trolling through her own wardrobe deciding on exactly what item of clothing she could don (and then pretending that she'd just thrown on the first thing she'd seen because she didn't think vanity suited her Klingon image.)

Nevertheless, it was true enough in his case. Other than his uniforms, a couple of pairs of jeans, t-shirts and the odd casual shirt, practically nothing in his wardrobe still fit him and he hadn't even realized before this moment. The shirt and pants he usually wore on a Saturday were still sprawled in a heap with his dirty uniforms and he hadn't got time to put them in the refresher. Seeing them, it finally occurred to him that Chakotay had never once mentioned the fact that he always wore the same outfit. Then again, the clothes never stayed on long enough for Chakotay to notice what he was wearing anyway.

"I guess Chak *still* prefers me without clothes," Tom muttered to himself, but there was less bitterness in the realization than he would have anticipated. To tell the truth, these days he found clothing in Chakotay's presence to be no more than an encumbrance anyway. So his memories of the humiliation of being naked in Chakotay's presence were being gradually eroded and rendered harmless by the newer memories of delighting in Chakotay's obvious appreciation of his looks.

He found a half-decent pair of black trousers that were only a few inches too large around the waist and tried on a slightly rumpled but clean white shirt. He checked in the mirror. It wasn't the most stylish outfit in the world but it was respectable and definitely casual which was what the Carskoni had insisted upon. It was obvious to all of them that the demand that the away team wore casual clothing was simply an excuse to also forbid them bringing weapons down but, as the Captain had pointed out, since they were only accepting the 'invitation' to prevent the Carskoni simply disintegrating Voyager in orbit there was no point worrying about whether they could take hand weapons down to the surface.

The only problem with Tom's outfit was that the shirt sleeves were three-quarter length and any movement of his arms made the still vivid scar on his left arm too visible. Tom wasn't ashamed of the mark. To be honest, when he was alone of an evening he would spend hours tracing the letters with his fingers, finding comfort in the word which remained his only constant promise that Chakotay was always with him, in spirit if not in body. But it would probably shock the hell out of the rest of the Officers, let alone the Carskoni, and more importantly it might embarrass Chakotay if attention was drawn to the scar.

He couldn't see a solution to the problem though. It was too late to borrow something off Harry and even if he'd had credits to spare to replicate a new shirt, the replicators were off-line in preparation for the installation of a new power source they had acquired from the Carskoni. Because it clashed with the existing systems, B'Elanna had taken all 'non-essential' systems off-line while Engineering ran tests.

At that moment, the replicator seemed damned essential to Tom, but with just five minutes to go before he was left behind anyway, Tom had no choice except to put on the shirt. Maybe if he just kept his arms clamped to his sides, no-one would notice the scar.

~~~

Chakotay was furious with Kathryn. He understood her decision. Hell, he understood all the decisions she had made, but he didn't have to like them.

Standing in the transporter room, seeing Tom approach in clothes two sizes too large, as though he was still trying to hide his body from view, with his head ducked and his arms wrapped around himself as though he was hugging himself for comfort, Chakotay's concern for the younger man was so great that he completely disregarded whatever anyone might think and moved forward to intercept him.

"I don't want you to go down there," he hissed in Tom's ear.

Tom froze mid-step and raised his head to meet Chakotay's furious glare. His eyes were wide with consternation at Chakotay's angry tone, yet they sparked with determination as he tried to stare the Commander down.

"I have to," he explained quietly. "Either I'm an Officer on Voyager or I'm not and if I *am* an Officer, I belong on this away team, Chak. None of us know what's really waiting for us down there. We could be walking right into a trap. It's dangerous for all of us but that hasn't stopped anyone volunteering to go down. It's my duty too and I shouldn't be excused from it. I can't live the rest of my life with people making allowances for me. If I'm not up to this away mission, I shouldn't be wearing these pips."

Chakotay's face softened a little.

"I understand, Tom, but no one will think any the less of you if you don't come and I really think it would be better if you didn't."

"Are you telling me I can't come?" Tom asked timidly, a look of sad defeat descending over his features as his self-confidence faltered in the face of Chakotay's obvious disapproval. It was one thing to argue with the Captain, the worst he had risked was being put on charges, but the idea of arguing with Chakotay was more than he could bear. Without Chakotay's love and approval, it wouldn't matter how much pride he regained in front of the rest of the crew by doing his duty.

In that moment, Chakotay realized that Tom would back down if he forced the issue, that Tom would obey him, not as his junior officer, but as his lover, and despite his real concern for Tom's reaction to the Carskoni, he realized that he would be abusing his relationship with the pilot if he used it as a lever against him.

"Personally I'd rather you didn't go," Chakotay said quietly, "But if it's that important to you, then you should do whatever you feel is best and I'll accept your decision either way."

Tom's smile of complete relief was almost enough to still Chakotay's fear. Almost.

"But only if we have a link to your comm-badge at all times. I need to know you can get transported back up to Voyager immediately if you need to return."

"Okay," Tom agreed eagerly, willing to accept any condition that would allow him to both do what he knew was right *and* keep Chakotay happy.

Kathryn cleared her throat noisily and the two men spun towards her, both trying to look as though they had been merely discussing ship's business during their frantically whispered argument. Despite her irritation with them, she decided that their guilty expressions were almost comical so she made no comment when Chakotay further delayed the Away Team's decent by arranging for Tom's comm. badge to be constantly monitored by the Transporter operator.

~~~

When they materialized at the instructed co-ordinates, they found themselves standing in the middle of an ornate octagonal courtyard surrounding a central fountain. Four edges of the paved area led to the entrances of towering, opaque-glass buildings, and the other four edges were wide, tree-lined avenues that led between the buildings towards other octagonal courtyards, similarly lined by alternate avenues and towers. This vast honeycomb of roads and buildings spread out so far that it was impossible to see the edges of the city.

Despite the vastness of the metropolis, its uniform appearance and clean, ordered lines gave the impression of peace and harmony. The only sounds were those of trickling water through the fountains, the rustling of the trees as a mild wind whispered down the avenues and a faint music like wind chimes as the glass edifices swayed slightly in the breeze. It was the only relief from an overbearing heat that pervaded the city.

"It's beautiful," Sam said, turning in a circle as she watched the sunlight sparkling off the buildings in a series of tiny rainbows so that the opaque glass appeared as multi-hued as mother-of-pearl.

"The buildings have an aesthetically pleasing exterior," Seven agreed. "Yet the heat is oppressive and the glass structures capture the sunlight and simply increase the ambient temperature, which is illogical."

"Perhaps the Carskoni like the heat," B'Elanna argued.

"Where's all the people though?" Harry asked, looking around the deserted courtyard in confusion.

"They did the same when I came down earlier. They apparently believe it is bad manners to wait for visitors to arrive," Chakotay explained. "Since the obvious thing to do with strangers is to be cautious and check them for hidden weapons, they are attempting to show their friendliness by letting us meander freely towards the central quadrant. It's their way of making us welcome."

"I expect they are watching us from those buildings though," Kathryn said dryly. She could practically feel thousands of eyes peering at them from behind the concealing glass of the buildings.

"Undoubtedly," Tuvok agreed, regarding the buildings with obvious suspicion.

"We'll start to see people as we approach the center of the city," Chakotay told them, "but if my earlier visit is any indication they will only be Osari and will avoid contact with us."

"So who are the Osari?" B'Elanna demanded.

"As far as I can tell, they're the slaves of the Carskoni," Chakotay answered. "The most obvious difference between the aliens is their clothing. The Carskoni are a military caste. They all wear black uniforms and are all heavily armed. The Osari wear little more than pastel colored tunics and are unarmed."

"So maybe they are just normal citizens and the Carskoni are the military," Harry said reasonably. "What makes you think the Osari are slaves?"

"The fact that all the Carskoni I met with had an Osari chained by the neck and kneeling at their feet," Chakotay replied dryly.

"Fuck," Tom muttered miserably, beginning to wish he had listened to Chakotay's advice not to come down. It was one thing to intellectually accept the idea that the Osari were slaves, another completely to witness it. His stomach was beginning to churn at the thought of sitting through a three hour dinner trying to pretend that he was unaffected by the idea of people being kept as personal body slaves.

Chakotay casually shortened his pace until he was along side Tom and they both then slowed enough that they dropped behind the rest of the away team.

"You okay?" Chakotay asked.

"Yeah," Tom mumbled, but he refused to meet Chakotay's eyes.

"I…"

"Don't say it," Tom warned. "Don't you dare say you told me so."

Chakotay checked that no-one was looking back and then threw his arm around Tom's waist and squeezed comfortingly. Tom leant his head down on Chakotay's shoulder and sighed.

"It's getting better, Chak, honest," he whispered. "Sometimes I'm even glad it happened because if it hadn't, maybe we'd never have got together and the idea of trying to live without you in my life is impossible."

"If I could take it back, Tom. If I could take back every blow, every moment of pain and fear, then I would," Chakotay replied, "but I'd never take back falling in love with you. You're my life, Tom, and somehow, someday, I'll make it right for us."

"I know," Tom sighed. "I know you will."

Chakotay saw Tuvok's head turning back and quickly detached his arm. He wasn't sure if he'd been fast enough, but the Vulcan merely gave him an inscrutable stare before looking away again.

"It's just three hours, Tom. Then we'll be back on Voyager," Chakotay promised.

"Yeah," Tom agreed, so miserably that it was obvious the prospect of returning to the ship was no more welcoming to Tom than the idea of meeting the aliens.

"I'm going to talk to the Captain," Chakotay said abruptly. Between Tuvok's peculiar expression and Tom's obvious unhappiness, Chakotay was beginning to feel that time was running out and he needed to take some decisive action.

"What?" Tom asked, clutching Chakotay's arm in terror.

"I know we agreed not to," Chakotay said, "but we can't go on like this. The supplies the Carskoni have given us mean that we won't have to stop again for months. I'm not prepared to keep sneaking around like this until we find another civilization and there's no guarantee that the next planet will be any more suitable. We could spend years looking for a place to get married at this rate. It was a good theory, but it's not practical, is it? We're simply going to have to bite the bullet on this one."

"But what if she separates us, Chak? What if she says I'm crazy?" Tom asked, his voice rising in panic.

"I'll work something out with her, Tom, I swear. All we need to do is convince her that it's what you really want. All she's ever tried to do is to protect you, Tom and it's hardly surprising that she finds it hard to believe you love me. I think it's little short of a miracle myself," Chakotay replied, his face twisting with a shadow of self-doubt.

Although his own love for Tom was so overwhelming that barely a second of his day passed without the mental image of Tom's face flickering across his mind's-eye like a comforting ghostly caress, Chakotay was still assailed by constant doubts over Tom's own feelings. He knew Tom loved him and needed him. Tom needed him and Chakotay was ready to take on Kathryn Janeway, the crew and the whole quadrant if necessary to be allowed to give Tom the love that he needed. Whether that meant marrying him or running away with him, Chakotay would do whatever it took to protect and care for the man who was now his own only reason for living. Chakotay didn't doubt that Tom's feelings for him were genuine. He did, however, sometimes wonder about their permanence. As he had told Harry, Tom was still far from well.

Maybe Tom would never be well and so would always need him but Chakotay's personal fear, deeply buried, was that the very act of giving Tom his unconditional love and support would allow Tom to recover to the point where he would no longer need it. One day Chakotay could turn around and see hate in Tom's eyes rather than adoration. The thought terrified him but not enough to try to protect himself against that possible fate.

"We just have to show her that you are safe and happy with me," Chakotay continued, "but if the worst comes to the worst, we just take a shuttle and leave the ship. Trust me, Tom. Somehow I'm going to make things right."

Tom nodded and gave Chakotay a weak smile, but his stomach churned with fear. It wasn't Chakotay he didn't trust, it was the Captain. She had already proven that her decisions were as changeable as the wind so it was impossible to judge how she would react. Some part of Tom exalted that Chakotay wanted to take a public stand. It was the part of him that whispered insidiously in his head during the lonely nights telling him that the real reason Chakotay hadn't claimed him was because Chakotay was still unwilling to commit himself. The more pessimistic side of Tom, however, saw Chakotay's promise to confront the Captain as the first blow that would bring their relationship crashing to destruction.

~~~

"I like the dark-haired warrior," Skani said, as she looked out of her office window onto the street below.

"He's the one who met earlier with your Master, isn't he?" her secretary asked speculatively.

Skani smiled gently at the young man to take away the bite of her reply.

"You know it's forbidden to gossip about the Carskoni unless you are Aktari," she chided.

"I'm not asking about your Master, I'm asking about the alien warrior," Kitona grinned unrepentantly. "All the Osari know there was no intention to allow any of the other off-worlders down here, yet after meeting the warrior, the Carskoni changed their minds. Gaskar must have told you why."

Skani pursed her lips.

"I do not repeat my Master's conversations," she said primly, but then relented a little.

"The aliens are no threat to us, Kitona. That is all I know and so now the Carskoni feel that we have been rude in our treatment of them. This gathering tonight is merely meant as an apology. We have become so used to seeing off-worlders as a threat that we have forgotten how to deal civilly with other people."

"Is it true that they are all Carskoni, though? They do not seem so to me. They are not even wearing uniforms," Kitona replied.

"Gaskar wanted the gathering to be as informal as possible to make them feel more relaxed," Skani explained. "It also made the 'request' that they left their weapons behind seem less antagonistic. Weapons are as anomalous on casual clothing as the lack of weapons are on a uniformed warrior."

"Then they are all warriors?"

"Gaskar said their ship is Carskoni, they are all warriors," Skani replied. "That is why they are being invited to Carskon, not to meet the people of Osar."

"The blond man looks like the dark warrior's Aktari to me," Kitona argued. "I saw the way they touched. Can a Carskoni be an Aktari?"

"They are aliens," Skani shrugged. "Who knows their customs? They are not a particularly advanced race, their technology is primitive by our standards, so it's to be expected that their culture is equally backward."

Her musing was distracted by the pulsing of the small crystal inset into her left forearm. She looked at it fondly, watching the winking light ripple over the Akton of her Master.

"I have to leave," she told Kitona. "My Master summons me. I've left the rotational variation for the southern hemisphere climatic amendment on my desk. Make sure it is implemented at sunset."

"Of course," Kitona replied, trying to look diligent in spite of his obvious disappointment that as a mere Osari he would not be invited to meet the off-worlders.

Skani patted the youngster on the cheek kindly.

"I'll tell you all about it," she promised.

As she stepped onto her personal transporter and shimmered out of Kitona's sight, the young man sighed and wished he was old enough to offer Aktar. He doubted another party of off-worlders would be invited to land in his lifetime.

~~~

As Chakotay had predicted, when they approached the vast dome that formed the hub of the sprawling honeycomb of the city, they started to see Osari at work on the streets. The aliens were humanoid in appearance and although they had the facial ridges that seemed to be an almost invariable characteristic of the natives of the Delta Quadrant, the ridges were more akin to B'Elanna's half-Klingon forehead than the more pronounced difference of the Kazon.

Most of the Osari paid them little attention, only glancing up shyly from where they were tending the trees or fountains. The braver Osari smiled at them tentatively and watched them avidly as though they were fascinatingly exotic in their bright clothes and multi-hued skin-tones. All of the Osari were ebony-skinned and were dressed simply in skimpy pastel tunics. The plain, short costumes may have been simply designed to combat the heat of the planet but they still gave the Osari a vulnerable and underdressed air in the eyes of the away team.

"They don't seem unhappy," Harry commented. Despite their poor clothing and the menial tasks that the Osari were performing, the general aura of the aliens was as harmonious as the surrounding buildings.

"Well I was only down here earlier for a couple of hours myself," Chakotay replied, "but I didn't see any evidence of discontent either. As far as I can tell, the society here is surprisingly peaceful considering the military capacity of the Carskoni. Either the Osari are content with their servitude or are, at least, resigned to it."

"The Osari are hardly likely to rebel if the Carskoni are the only ones with weapons," Tom pointed out. "They're probably just making the most of a bad situation."

"Yeah, well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Ensign Harrison replied cuttingly. "Since you make a habit of taking the easy option."

In the appalled silence that followed his comment, Tom flushed scarlet and ducked his head to avoid the looks of concerned embarrassment thrown in his direction and only Tuvok's restraining hand on Chakotay's arm prevented the Commander from wiping the smirk of Harrison's face. It was Kathryn whose response surprised them all the most. She slapped her comm. badge and instructed Voyager to transport Harrison back to the ship.

"You're confined to quarters until I have time to deal with you," she told the surprised Ensign.

"But what about the Carskoni?" Harrison protested desperately. "They insisted on meeting all the Officers."

"No Starfleet Officer would make cheap, snide comments at the expense of a colleague," Kathryn replied coldly. "Consider yourself demoted." Then she turned to the rest of the Away Team. "Would anyone else like to join him? No? Then I assume I'll never hear another word mentioned on the subject."

She strode back to the front of the group without so much as a glance at Tom and Chakotay's faces but she was certain that her message had not only come across to the crew, but also to the pair in question. Whatever they might think of her decisions in regard to their relationship, the one thing she was determined to always be consistent in was her defense of them as individuals.

~~~

It was only when the away team entered the final quadrant and approached the huge dome-shaped heart of the city that one of the Carskoni emerged to greet them. Except for his severe black uniform and the obvious weapons at his waist, the Carskoni was almost identical in appearance to the Osari. He had the same ebony skin and sleek black hair but had a pronounced symmetrical pattern carved onto the ridges on his forehead. Other than the fact that it was white on black, it was oddly similar to Chakotay's tattoo.

"Welcome again, Chakotay, and welcome to your fellow warriors" the Carskoni said, with a wide smile.

"Warriors?" Kathryn asked Chakotay under her breath. She was discomforted by the Carskoni's uniform. The invitation had been to come to an informal dinner. In view of their own instructions to leave their uniforms and weapons behind, the Carskoni's own choice of dress seemed rude and threatening.

"The Carskoni are a military culture and identify Starfleet Officers as being warriors," Chakotay explained. "It's a term of respect."

"Thank you, Gaskar," Chakotay replied to the alien. "This is my Captain whom I told you about."

Gaskar gave a courteous bow and when Kathryn extended her arm to offer a handshake, he instead took her hand and pressed it to his lips in an elegant gesture.

"Your warrior told me that you were a fierce leader, Captain," he said smoothly. "He failed to advise me that you had such exotic beauty to match your courage."

Kathryn flushed and detached her hand hurriedly. The alien's courtesy, so anomalous with his fierce appearance, had caught her completely by surprise.

"These are the officers of my ship, " she said, quickly regaining her poise. "This is Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, Lieutenant Wildman, Lieutenant…"

"Forgive me interrupting," Gaskar said with an apologetic smile, "but except for your warrior Tuvok, I fear that your pale skin means you are all suffering from the effects of our climate. Perhaps we should adjourn inside where it is cooler. We have arranged for a banquet to be held in honor of your courageous journey to return to your homeworld. Many of the Carskoni are fascinated by the little Chakotay has already told us of your adventures. We hope that you will accept our hospitality and tell us more about yourselves this evening."

He gestured grandly towards what appeared to be a form of moving staircase that led inside the dome. The away team stepped gingerly onto the structure. It appeared to be made of the same multi-hued glass of the buildings and seemed too fragile and insubstantial to bear their weight, yet it moved with a slow rippling effect so that it almost seemed that they were walking on water.

"Weird," Baytart commented as they began to glide effortlessly into the building. "The technology that runs this city must be incredible, but all you experience is the effect. You don't see any of the machinery, just the results."

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "Everything practical item seems designed primarily to be beautiful but it doesn't affect its operation."

"I'd rather see the machinery," B'Elanna griped.

Gaskar turned in her direction.

"You are the Chief Engineer, are you not?"

"Yes," B'Elanna agreed, giving a suspicious look at Chakotay. He gave her a small nod, confirming that he'd described her to Gaskar rather than the alien having discerned the information by telepathic means.

"If you would find the experience preferable, I could arrange for you to tour our facilities while your companions eat," he offered.

"Captain?" B'Elanna asked excitedly.

"I think both you and Lieutenant Carrey would enjoy the opportunity," Kathryn replied, equally intrigued to learn more about the Carskoni but reinforcing away team protocol.

"Of course," Gaskar replied with a gracious smile. He realized the Captain was letting him know she wouldn't allow just a single member of her crew to leave the main party and he approved of her caution. He had been surprised that the Captain had agreed to their original demand that only one member of the crew could land to negotiate the trade. Now he realized it had only been agreed because the warrior Chakotay was such a high-ranking officer. Gaskar was pleased the Captain was more cautious with her lower ranks, it suggested that the rules of this "Starfleet" were not as alien to their own codes of practice as he had originally feared.

The meeting of alien cultures was always a fragile and delicate thing. Gaskar had convinced his peers to extend this invitation in the hope of learning a little from the aliens. The potential benefits of finding out what was happening in the space beyond their own jealously guarded borders far outweighed the risk of inviting such a technologically inferior people to witness the wealth of their planet. This 'Starfleet 'that Voyager came from was so distant that the Carskoni didn't need to fear that the crew of Voyager would return with an attempted invasion force in the immediate future.

Many of the Carskoni had felt that this very fact that made Voyager so unthreatening was sufficient reason to ignore her. They had argued that there was little point befriending people that they would never see again and that their agreement to trade (when there was nothing of value that Voyager could offer) had been sufficient generosity on their own part to the stranded aliens.

Gaskar, however, belonged to those Carskoni whose vision was far more forward-thinking. Although it would be several more centuries before these Alpha Quadrant aliens gained the technology to create their own stable trans-warp conduits, there *would* come a time when distance was no longer a barrier between them. For the sake of future generations, a small show of friendliness now might prevent 'Starfleet' becoming an enemy of the future.

"It's difficult to believe that a civilization could be this advanced and yet be built upon slavery," Kathryn murmured to Tuvok, as they were led through into the opulent high dome that formed the center of the vast Carskoni metropolis.

Although Chakotay had told her that the Carskoni were surprisingly civilized, she was still confused by the anomaly between Gaskar's manner and Chakotay's insistence that the Carskoni practiced slavery. Gaskar was unfailingly courteous and polite, took obvious pleasure and pride in escorting them into the facilities of his city and although she saw many Osari rushing through the corridors with laden trays of food there seemed nothing particularly servile about their behavior in her opinion.

She decided that Chakotay was possibly mistaken. Perhaps his own personal demons had caused him to misinterpret the situation here. The Osari were obviously an underclass of workers, but slavery seemed far too harsh a term to describe their condition.

It was only when they were led into a large banquet room filled with several dozen Carskoni seated at tables laden with food and Kathryn saw that each Carskoni did indeed have an Osari literally chained at their feet that her perception of the charming alien changed completely.

~~~

The entire away team froze in the doorway to the huge, domed dining room, their brains desperately trying to process the bizarrely contrasting images that assaulted their eyes. Firstly, although their passage through the building had seemed to be virtually horizontal, they had somehow ascended several hundred feet on the moving stairway and were now so high above ground level that they were level with the top floors of many of the surrounding towers.

Rather than walls and a ceiling, the room was simply capped by a vast clear dome of a glass-like material and the passage they were entering from took them directly into the center of the room. The dome was so transparent that, except for where it caught and reflected the sunlight in intricate rainbow patterns, it appeared that if they walked to an edge of the room they could simply step out into space. It created both an uncomfortable feeling of vertigo and yet strangely also a mood that the Carskon valued, and were at home with, the elements of their planet. Standing there, with the odd wispy white cloud wafting over their heads, yet protected invisibly from both the heat of the planet's sun and the inevitable wind that would be prevalent at such a height, the Voyagers were a little stunned and awestruck.

As they turned slowly around, their eyes hungrily devouring the sight of hundreds of gathered Carskoni, most of whom had exchanged their severe black uniforms for less formal, though equally black, costumes, they were struck repeatedly by the dramatic contrasts of the room.

The tables at which the aliens sat were all formed of the same almost invisible glass material, so that the bounteous plates of celebratory food appeared to be floating in mid-air, yet the chairs in which they sat were solidly visible and more reminiscent of loungers than functional seats. The chairs were draped with silks and velveteen fabrics that were so vibrantly multi-hued that they assaulted the eyes, which had the effect of making the Carskoni's own black clothing become a restful place for a viewers eyes. In this way, despite or perhaps because of the opulent surroundings, all attention was drawn to the Carskoni themselves.

In the same way, each Osari who knelt at the feet of his or her 'owner' was dressed in a simple tunic of pure white. Unlike the pastel tunics of the workers that the Away Team had already observed, these white garments were far more revealing. They appeared to be little more than two small oblongs of white cloth, fastened to the Osari's bodies by means of gold clasps on either shoulder and a further clasp at either side of the Osari's waist, leaving most of their flesh exposed. Around each Osari's neck there was an intricate filigree collar of gold. An equally delicate chain connected each collar to a hook upon each Carskoni's belt.

Tom gave a low keening mewl of distress, but before Chakotay could turn to comfort him, a tiny Osari woman with lustrous black hair, who had rushed over to kneel submissively at Gaskar's feet as soon as they entered, jerked her head in surprise at Tom's obvious discomfort and, gliding sensuously to her feet, she whispered something in Gaskar's ear and he nodded at her fondly before addressing the Away Team.

"Captain, your officers and yourself must come, be seated and partake of this feast which we have prepared in your honor. We are all eager to hear the details of your adventures and we will be happy to answer the questions that I am sure you yourselves wish to ask. This should be seen as a free and open exchange of our mutual cultures so that, despite the short time you will stay with us, we will all be jointly enriched by this experience. Several of my colleagues own personal Aktari are so excited by your arrival that they have requested the honor of serving you this evening, so you must forgive their masters' probable jealousy," he said, although he smiled to convey the fact that he was joking. "I was feeling sorry for them, but now my own Aktari has demanded that she serves one of you too."

He grinned with amusement as the small woman made her way to Tom's side and dropped gracefully to her knees in front of him. His grin merely widened as he saw Tom panic at her action and attempt to haul her desperately to her feet again.

"Skani has never seen a Carskoni with such coloring," Gaskar told them jovially, "He has hair the color of gold, which is an adornment that only an Aktari may wear. Then his clothing is equally fascinating to her. He is dressed half-white, half-black, as though he is either both Carskoni and Aktari or neither."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Chakotay said tightly.

Gaskar looked at him curiously.

"No? You do surprise me, Chakotay," he said mildly, then turned to the Captain. "Come, eat with us. It is a tradition of our people that we only eat with friends. Cement our friendship with your participation in our feast."

~~~

"Please," Tom whispered frantically to the slave woman, as the sumptuous seat drowned him. "Don't kneel. I can't bear it."

Skani looked at him in concern but then smiled.

"Normally I would be forced to disobey you for the sake of propriety. Yet, you are so tall that even when you are seated and I am standing, I believe my head is still sufficiently lower than yours to be respectful," she agreed. "My name is Skani and it is my honor tonight to take care of you. Allow me to feed you now, Master.

"I'm nobody's master," Tom insisted, "and I can feed myself. Please, Skani. Don't do this to me."

"Have I offended you by my presumption? Would you prefer another attendant tonight?" Skani asked tremulously..

Tom recognized the waver in her tone, he'd heard it too often in his own voice not to understand what it meant. Without thinking, his left hand shot out to grasp hers comfortingly.

"I'm sorry. I don't want you to get into trouble," he assured her, remembering his promise to the Captain not to make a scene. "Do whatever you have to do but I'd prefer you just called me Tom, at least."

Skani was too astounded by the depth of his misunderstanding to answer immediately. This pretty alien seemed to believe her fear was because she might be chastised for failing to serve him rather than the blow his rejection had struck to her own ego. Skani prided herself on her skills as an Aktari and although all of the aliens seemed uncomfortable with being served, this 'Tom' was definitely more skittish than all the rest put together. It had hurt the souls of all the Aktari to imagine all these brave Carskoni stranded so far away from home, facing so many dangers without Osari to protect or Aktari to offer them comfort. They had pleaded with their Masters to offer the travelers a little temporary comfort and had so looked forward to offering them temporary care that it had never occurred to any of them that the Voyagers might not want it.

Then her train of thought was de-railed as she first noticed the crude and barbaric looking Akton on Tom's forearm. Although the scar was unlike the Carskon on the warrior Chakotay's forehead, from the earlier interaction she had witnessed in the square she quickly deduced that the two were bonded in some fashion. Perhaps that was the reason for Tom's discomfort, she decided. Although it was difficult to imagine a Carskoni also being an Aktari, she reminded herself that she was dealing with an alien from a completely different culture.

"Have we offended you, Tom?" Skani asked carefully. " I realize that some bondings are closer than others and you may not feel comfortable watching another Aktari serving your own Master."

Tom paled at the implication of Skani's words. It was immediately obvious to him that Skani was referring to Chakotay and it made him feel decidedly ill that his feelings for the older man were not only so obvious to this slave woman but that she saw in himself some form of kindred spirit.

"He's not my master," he snarled. "I'm not a slave."

Skani bit her lip worriedly. There was no way she had misinterpreted the needful glances that this Tom was constantly throwing towards the dark warrior. Perhaps a Carskoni would not notice Tom's hunger but to an Aktari like herself it was too painfully obvious. She didn't know what 'slave' meant but, from Tom's tone, it was obviously a term of derision which suggested that this blond alien was either struggling with a sense of self-denial or, perhaps, was even one of those rare unfortunates whose offer of Aktar had been rejected. Skani herself could think of no more tragic a scenario than that one and it would explain Tom's wounded eyes and the way he listlessly picked at his food despite his worrying thinness.

Still, there was no way to broach such a delicate and humiliating matter without possibly distressing the alien more. Trying to talk to these aliens was like walking through a mine field. No wonder the Carskoni usually dealt with matters of diplomacy, she decided. Her own skills were obviously lax in that direction. Skani had always been far more comfortable with quantum physics than other people. She gave Tom a profuse apology while backing away so that she could rejoin her Master. She would hope to capture Gaskar's attention for a small while so that he might advise her how to deal with the strange Tom; a Carskoni who obviously wished to be an Aktari..

Skani had never before heard of such a thing. Still, neither had she met an alien before and, besides, there was absolutely no reason why tradition had to stand in the way of love.

~~~

"We live in a dangerous part of space," Gaskar explained to Kathryn and Chakotay who were seated on either side of him.. "Our resources are constantly strained by the necessity to keep our aggressive neighbors from stealing the technology that we have taken millennia to create. This is why we were initially so unwelcoming to yourselves. It was only prudent to make sure of your intentions before offering our friendship. We do regret any misunderstandings that our hesitancy may have created."

"Your planetary defenses are impressive," Kathryn agreed. "They don't seem to affect the quality of life here on Carskon though." She gestured to the opulent surroundings and the laden plates of food.

Gaskar shrugged.

"It is both our fortune and our burden that we live on a planet so rich in natural resources as Osar. It means that we have the energy to defend ourselves, yet it also is the very reason that we need to do so. Our strength as a people is that we do not allow the burden to affect our lifestyle. Life on Osar is harmonious. We eradicated crime centuries ago. Our civilians are content, well-fed and safe. They appreciate the sacrifices that we military personnel make on their behalf ."

"Osar?" Chakotay asked, although he was still staring down the table rather than looking at Gaskar.. Tom had been seated several places further down and it was bothering Chakotay immensely that he was unable to talk to Tom without raising his voice loud enough for half the room to hear. He'd seen the discomfiture that Tom had felt at being attended to by the slave woman and had been worried sick that Tom might over-react. Fortunately, the woman had seemingly given up trying to help Tom eat and had returned to Gaskar's own feet. "I thought this planet was known as Carskon," he continued.

Gaskar smiled apologetically, although his eyes narrowed a little at Chakotay's distraction and he stared down the table to see what was of such interest to the alien that his previously perfect manners were now so poor. It was the blond alien. The one who had spurned his Skani. Gaskar racked his memory. It was the pilot, he reminded himself. Lieutenant Tom Paris. He thought it odd that two Carskoni looked at each other with such obvious heat, but then he was finding these aliens to be delightfully entertaining in many ways.

He heard the Captain clear her throat and his mind returned quickly to the question that Chakotay had asked.

"Forgive us if we confused you with our earlier evasiveness. It is our nature to be suspicious and give little information to strangers. Now, however, since you are our guests and therefore strangers no longer, I will try to answer your questions. Our planet is known as Osar, it is only this city which is known Carskon, since it is the place where the Carskoni live."

"And evidently thousands of Osari," Tuvok pointed out, from Kathryn's left..

"I believe there are over seven hundred thousand Osari living in Carskon," Gaskar agreed. "Two hundred thousand are Aktari though."

"What are Aktari?" Kathryn asked, completely confused.

"The Osari who belong to the Carskoni," he replied, "such as my Skani. All of the Osari in this room are Aktari."

"I see," Kathryn replied coldly, regarding the barely clad woman who was again kneeling submissively at Gaskar's feet, a fine chain leashing her to Gaskar's belt from the ornate collar that adorned her neck. Aktari was obviously the Carskoni term for slave, she decided.

Gaskar either failed to notice Kathryn's disgust or chose to ignore it. He ruffled Skani's long black hair fondly as he continued.

"It has been almost five centuries since one of the Osari has been at physical risk from alien invasion. They greatly appreciate the care that we take over them and serve us accordingly."

Tuvok narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he looked around the room. Apart from the obvious difference in dress and station between the Carskoni and the Osari, there was no discernible physical difference between the two castes.

"You are all one race," he said to Gaskar.

Gaskar nodded.

"Then how is it decided whether a person is Osari or Carskoni, and why are only a small proportion of the Osari known as Aktari? Is it simply a matter of birth that assigns the slavery?"

Gaskar frowned in confusion. "I do not understand this word 'slavery'. Explain."

"It refers to the ownership of one person by another," Chakotay interrupted.

"Ah," Gaskar said, his brow clearing, then furrowing again. "Then your term is perhaps correct, but your understanding is not.. We are all born into the Osari caste, irrelevant of our parentage. All children are automatically awarded that right of protected citizenship and may choose to remain Osari forever. Some of us feel called to service, however. It is a personal decision. At the time of adolescence an Osari may train to become a Carskoni. It is a hard life, doubly so after our sheltered childhoods, so many decide that the Military caste is not for them and return to their previous lives as Osari; those who the Carskoni protect. Some Osari decide that they wish to join the caste of Osari workers rather than return home. They are the citizens who live within the boundaries of Carskon. Most Osari choose to live away from the city, however. They understand that the military caste is necessary for their protection and that the worker caste provide their food and well-being, but they prefer to simply live their own uncomplicated lives beyond Carskon's walls."

"But the Aktari here are your slaves. You own them," Kathryn pointed out.

"Of course," Gaskar replied. "Why else would they chose to be Aktari?"

"They choose?" Tom asked quietly.

Chakotay looked at him in concern. Tom had gone white and a thin bead of perspiration was visible on his forehead.

It was Skani who answered with a peal of genuine laughter.

"Only the Osari have the right to offer, the Carskoni cannot take," she said, her delicate face a little contemptuous of their ignorance. "The ceremony of Aktar is always at the choice of the Osari."

"What is Aktar?" Chakotay asked.

"The bonding of two people," she replied. "Do you not have such a practice?"

"We call it marriage," Kathryn answered, "but it is the bonding of two equals, not a form of slavery."

Skani tossed her head back in disbelief. " For each Carskoni there must be an Aktari. It is the natural way to bond a protector with a carer. The Aktari cares for the Carskoni and the Carskoni protects the Aktari. It is an honor for an Osari to give themselves in bondage to the Carskoni. It is a fair exchange for the protection that they offer us by sacrificing their lives on our behalf. When I asked my Master for Aktar and was accepted, it brought pride upon my whole family."

"And a little too much pride to Skani," Gaskar chided, cuffing the woman lightly.

Skani blushed and dipped her head in pretended shame but a smirk of satisfaction still played over her features as she looked sideward with knowing eyes at Tom's look of confused fascination.

~~~

Within an hour, the formal dinner began to relax into a far more friendly and liberal atmosphere, with the Carskoni regularly changing seats with each other so that everyone had an opportunity to converse with the fascinating aliens. Although the arrival of each new Carskoni meant the arrival of a new Osari also, Kathryn was surprised to discover that each 'slave' was formally introduced to her; usually with a proud recitation of the Osari's achievements as though they were prized pets that the Carskoni took immense personal pride in owning. Then even that interpretation faltered in the face of the genuine mutual affection that she kept witnessing between 'Slave' and 'Master'.

"You designed the matrix for conversion of anti-matter into a safe self-renewing power source?" Kathryn asked, in genuine admiration.

The young Osari blushed and nodded. His 'master' rubbed his neck fondly and beamed at Kathryn with pride.

"He's a genius," Baltzar crowed. "Chanti also was heavily involved in the creation of our new isolinear drive."

Kathryn looked at the young man in confusion. Two hours ago she had thought the Carskoni were a barbaric race of slave owners, yet the longer she spoke to them all the more convinced she was becoming that the Osari were the true brains behind the Carskoni civilization and that although they wore the slave collars, the military caste were the ones truly enslaved by the enchanting geniuses at their feet. Despite the outward appearance, the civilization was a symbiosis of brain and brawn, where the Carskoni offered their physical protection and the Osari offered devotion in return.

Even the collars and chains were misleading. Whenever an Osari wanted to go talk to someone else they simply apologized to their masters, unhooked themselves and wandered off. It seemed that the apparent slavery was just a form of ritual dance that the aliens played.

"Forgive me for being rude, but I was wondering about the collars and chains," she said to Baltzar. "It is obvious to me that you love and respect Chanti very much."

Baltzar grinned his agreement and ruffled Chanti's hair with unmistakable affection.

"So, please don't be offended, but why do you keep him collared and leashed like a pet?"

Baltzar frowned in puzzlement. He looked helplessly at his 'slave' and it was Chanti who rescued him by answering Kathryn's question with a question of his own..

"Do your people not offer tokens that signify a bonding?" Chanti asked.

"Some people exchange rings to signify marriage," Kathryn replied. "It's an old custom that has persisted over the years although it's more of a ritual than having any specific purpose. It's just a way of showing other people visibly that two people have made a commitment.".

Baltzar smiled now that he understood the nature of the alien's misunderstanding. "You see a difference between your "rings" and our collars? There seems no difference to me. You call it 'marriage' and signify it with a ring. We call it Aktar and mark it with a collar," he explained.

"The difference is that you believe the Aktar makes the Osari your property and the collar and chain is obviously a mark of ownership. I find it hard to understand why someone as obviously intelligent as Chanti would chose to become another man's property," Kathryn replied. "Why did you 'choose' to become an Aktari?" she asked Chanti.

This time it was Chanti who struggled to find an answer. His decision to become Aktari was an answer to a noble calling. He'd never dreamt of being anything else. All his other achievements meant nothing to him next to the pride he had felt when Baltzar accepted of his offer of Aktar. He'd never even once in his life questioned *why* it was good to be an Aktari. That to him seemed like asking why the sun rose in the morning or why winter followed summer. Some things were simply the way things were. Chanti was happy. Baltzar was happy. It had never occurred to either of them to question *why* they were happy. Chanti looked helplessly at his Master, his dark eyes begging his Master to rescue him from the alien's questions.

"Tell me, why do you feel personally responsible for the safety of your Crew?" Baltzar finally asked, in response to Chanti's mute plea.

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at the apparent change of subject but answered anyway.

"I am the Captain of Voyager; the crew are my responsibility."

"Because they gave themselves into your protection by the swearing of their oath to your Starfleet and you are their senior officer?" Baltzar asked.

"Yes."

"And that gives you the right to make decisions regarding their fate, does it not? You have complete autonomy over their lives within the structure of your Starfleet regulations," Baltzar asked, assuming that all military organizations presumably followed similar practices to his own.

"Yes," Kathryn confirmed.

"Then there is no difference here except in degree of scale. Chanti has sworn a solemn oath that I am his *personal* Captain, if you like. I have become fully responsible for his life, happiness and welfare and in exchange, to ensure that I am able to fulfill that responsibility, he agrees to my decisions on his life. The chains and collar are as symbolic as your uniform ranks, Captain, but no less important. My ownership of Chanti is no more constraining to his ability to perform his job than your authority as a Captain prevents the individual members of your crew from functioning as individuals. The symbols of Aktar are admittedly just throwbacks to a far more barbaric time in our own history but the sentiment that they symbolize is one that signifies the change of our society from a time of strife to one of harmony and joy."

Kathryn frowned uncertainly, her preconceptions threatened by Baltzar's reasonable explanation, and seeing the first signs of understanding on her face, the alien hastened to explain further.

"Our planet was once torn by wars and petty disputes, Captain. Our people were dying, not at the hands of aliens but through our own internal strife. There were boundaries of political discontent, each region ruled by their own Governments who were constantly at war with each other and each Government had its own army of Carskoni. Countless millions of Carskoni slaughtered each other under the orders of their individual masters until a day came when the Carskoni themselves grew tired of fighting and dying for nothing more than the pride of their governments.

"The Carskoni themselves decided enough was enough. They joined together and overthrew their masters. That was when Carskon was first created as a place for all the Carskoni to live together. This military coup was greatly resisted by the Osari population at first. They were terrified that the Carskoni would abuse their power but all the Carskoni wanted was peace for everyone after the centuries of war. Some citizens were taken from all the provinces and kept as hostages to the behavior of their families and friends. They were the first Aktari. As time passed, however, and the citizens realized that the Carskoni only wanted everyone to live in peace, the resistance towards Carskon faded. The Carskoni became little more than a policing force of the population and the Aktari were finally unchained and allowed to go home.."

"Only most of them refused to leave," Chanti interrupted, giving Baltzar a loving smile. "They had grown to love their peaceful captors and greatly enjoyed their servitude, seeing it as a small price to pay for the peace and harmony that the Carskoni had gifted the whole planet with. *This* is the tradition that the Aktari maintain. It is especially important now, when so many of our brave Carskoni fail to return from the battles in the skies above our heads, that we Osari keep faith with the Carskoni. Our behavior is perhaps steeped heavily in the traditions of a bygone age, but it is a good tradition because it reminds us all that our society depends purely on the mutual symbiosis of the Carskoni with the Osari."

"Forgive me, I made a judgment out of ignorance. I see that now," Kathryn confessed. "Sometimes it's hard to see things from such an alien point of view."

Baltzar laughed.

"We are not so alien, Captain Janeway. Our society developed from within a military framework. A lot of our personal behavior is still governed by the rigidity of that military frame of mind. The Osari who live outside the cities perhaps find our way of life as strange and abhorrent as you yourselves do, but for us it works and that is all that counts."

"You certainly do all seem happy, " Kathryn admitted, "but what happens if an Osari makes the wrong choice and regrets the Aktar? Can the Aktar be dissolved the way that married people can divorce each other?"

"Divorce is the ending of the marriage?"

"Yes."

"Then yes. The Aktar is always at the discretion of the Osari. Should a Carskoni be foolish enough to abuse the faith that their Osari places in them, then the Aktar will be dissolved and it is unlikely that another Osari will take the risk of offering themselves as a replacement. It makes us extremely solicitous of the Osari who choose us. It is considered a great personal disgrace for a Master to be rejected by his or her Aktari, and leads to great unhappiness and loneliness. The few Carskoni foolish enough to bring such a fate upon their heads have invariably then volunteered to be stationed on the satellites that form the frontal defense grid, which is the only honorable form of suicide open to a Carskoni."

"Yet I saw Gaskar strike Skani," Kathryn pointed out.

Baltzar shrugged.

"Discipline within the Aktar is expected. That discipline sometimes takes a physical form. It's something that the couple agree on before the Aktar ceremony is performed. Inappropriate discipline would cause the Osari to leave. It is a delicate balance sometimes but something that bonded couples usually agree on between themselves. If Gaskar struck Skani, then Skani's behavior was inappropriate and she would have been aware of that fact and also must have agreed that physical chastisement is appropriate within the relationship that she and Gaskar share."

"What about you and Chanti?" Kathryn asked.

Baltzar flushed enough for it to be visible despite his dark complexion.

"If I raise my hand to Chanti, it is rarely because I am angry with him," Baltzar finally muttered.

Overhearing, Chanti giggled, blushed and dropped his face towards the floor.

"I see," Kathryn replied eventually, unable to look either alien in the face now that she had caught the implication of Baltzar's statement.

~~~

Skani watched the blond alien pushing his food awkwardly around his plate and pretending to look interested in the conversations around him, although it was patently obvious to her that all he wanted to do was move further down the table to join the group of people talking to the warrior Chakotay.

She waited patiently until Gaskar's attention turned to her and then discretely signaled for permission to leave his side. He raised an eyebrow in query.

"I wish to speak to the quiet one again," she murmured.

"Ah," Gaskar replied. "The one who watches Chakotay constantly with Aktari eyes."

Skani grinned, then bit her lip.

"Is he truly Carskoni, Master?" she asked cautiously.

"He is the Pilot of their ship," Gaskar confirmed, "and a high-ranking officer within their military hierarchy. There is no doubt that he is Carskoni. Then again, their Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres is also Carskoni despite the fact that she is obviously an advanced technician. I find their culture mystifying, Skani. They do not have the same clear caste distinctions as we do. It is confusing and inefficient, yet perhaps their culture has developed that way out of necessity. Alone as they are, so far from home, perhaps they have evolved in this fashion simply to survive. From what I gather, the crew was merged from two opposing ships. Perhaps just as they merged their crew, they also merged their individual roles."

"Yes. I can see how that might be true and it would explain why Tom bears an Akton," Skani told Gaskar.

"He does? Is it that of Chakotay?" Gaskar asked with interest.

"It is too crude to identify, but since Chakotay is the only alien who also wears an Akton, and considering the way this Tom constantly watches him, I believe it is the only explanation. When I asked him, however, he denied that Chakotay was his Master."

"Perhaps the discussion of sexual relationships is taboo within their culture," Gaskar suggested, "or perhaps the aliens' culture is not comparable with ours after all."

"I would like to discuss the matter further with him, with your permission," Skani asked.

"Go then," Gaskar told her. "He intrigues me too."

Tom didn't notice the woman approach until she slipped gracefully to the floor at his feet with a murmured, "May I talk with you ,Master?"

"I told you to call me Tom," Tom growled, his eyes flaring in horror as Skani knelt once more at his feet..

"May I speak with you anyway?" Skani asked, an amused smile flitting over her face.

"Only if you get off the floor," Tom said, reaching down to help her to her feet.

"I have been considering our earlier conversation where you denied that Chakotay is your Master. I do not wish to be presumptuous or rude, but since your visit is supposed to be a free exchange of our cultures, I wondered whether you would at least explain why you wear an Akton if you are not Aktari."

"What?" Tom asked in confusion.

Skani traced his scarred left arm with her fingers then turned her arm to reveal an intricate pattern carved into the flesh around an embedded jewel.

Tom flushed and shook his head furiously, darting a frantic look at Chakotay just in case he had overheard.

"It's not what you think," he told her. "It's just a scar. I did it myself."

A look of genuine sympathy crossed Skani's face.

"So that is why it is such a crude mark. The warrior refused your offer of Aktar and you were so heart-broken that you chose to wear his mark anyway?" she asked. "I sorrow for your shame. No Carskoni would be so cruel to an Osari."

Tom swallowed uncomfortably at the undeniable compassion in Skani's voice. Mistaken or not, her interpretation of his scar was far more understanding and sympathetic than the horrified reaction of the rest of Voyager's crew to a scar that Tom himself bore with personal pride. Perhaps it was that difference that finally allowed him to lower his defensive shields a little. While he saw no true comparison between his relationship with Chakotay and that between Skani and Gaskar, he recognized that Skani's concern was genuine and so he was gentle as he replied to her.

"No," Tom whispered. "Chakotay didn't refuse me. We love each other, but it's different. Our people do not believe in Aktons. They see it as wrong for someone to love one another as much as we do. As much as your people do." He gestured at the countless of Aktari who had finished eating and were currently leaning into the comfort of their Master's legs with obvious contentment.

Although his inclusion of the Aktari was more of a kindness than a true comparison, there was an element of truth in his words. He *was* jealous of the easy way in which the aliens interrelated with each other. It wasn't that he wanted to be an Aktari. He simply wished that the crew of Voyager could adapt to his feelings for Chakotay with the apparent ease with which they were accepting the far more outrageous relationships between these aliens. He had watched the Captain laughing and joking with numerous Carskoni and their Aktari. She seemed completely accepting now of the strange culture of the aliens, yet if he rose now, sank to his knees in front of Chakotay and lay his head on Chakotay's thigh , the Captain would undoubtedly declare him insane again.

"But you wish to belong to your special warrior, do you not?" Skani asked.

"In my heart. In his heart. But our relationship is secret," Tom admitted. "If you repeat what I've told you, I will be forbidden to see him again."

"That is cruel and barbaric," Skani replied. "Your people have small minds and smaller hearts. The love of two people cannot be judged by a third."

Tom looked around the room and shuddered at the sight of the various Osari who were each knelt at their Master's feet. It frightened him how little difference there was between their positions and his favorite habit of curling on the floor in Harry and B'Elanna's quarters and resting his cheek on Chakotay's thigh. He could almost feel the ghostly presence of Chakotay's fingers stroking his hair.

He shook himself furiously.

"I'm not like you," he insisted to Skani. "I'm a Lieutenant. I'm Voyager's pilot. I'm not Chakotay's sex toy."

Skani's laughter was so loud that Gaskar broke off his conversation with Tuvok and gave her a fond smile before turning his scrutiny towards Tom. His eyes narrowed in speculation and Tom dropped his flaming face from the alien's regard. It seemed that all the fucking aliens could see right through him.

"Is that how you see me?" Skani asked, more amused than offended. "Do you know *how* I met my Master? Why I had the opportunity to know him well enough to offer him Aktar?"

Tom shook his head helplessly.

"Because I came to the city to be trained as a technician. Most of the Osari who live in the city are trained scientists, technicians, engineers or administrators. There are some, of course, who work as gardeners or servants, but there is no division between us based on the jobs we do. The decision of any Osari to live in Carskon is a noble choice. We work here so that the other Osari may simply play. We produce their food, their energy, their defenses and they live in a resultant utopia of carefree existence. They are like children, perhaps. They have no responsibilities, no jobs. In this city we produce their needs and house the Carskoni who protect their lives. Some of we city dwellers choose to offer Aktar to the Carskoni, others prefer to form relationships with other Osari. It is a matter of personal choice."

"So you work?" Tom asked in confusion.

Skani laughed again.

"See that tower?" she asked, pointing at one of the huge edifices that encircled the dome. "I manage that tower. I have over one thousand technicians working under me. Do you think Gaskar would have accepted Aktar from just *anyone*? A warrior such as Gaskar would only offer his personal protection to an Aktari who is an equally high ranking Osari."

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand," Tom apologized.

"Do your people always condemn that which is different?" Skani asked, smiling to take away the bite of her words.

"No, but sometimes things are hard to understand, difficult to fit in with our own moral preconceptions."

"You find my lifestyle morally abhorrent?" Skani asked.

"No, now you've explained, I find it strangely seductive to tell the truth," Tom admitted. "It's how I feel about Chakotay, how he feels about me, but it's not something that would ever be allowed by our own people.."

"What business is it of anyone else's?" Skani asked in confusion. "Had we realized that our way of life would cause your people offence, we would have concealed our personal relationships out of respect. It would not have changed anything though, simply because you did not know of our lifestyle. Surely you and your warrior could keep your relationship private too."

"It's not as simple as that," Tom confessed. "Chakotay was very ill once and he hurt me unintentionally. Now, although he's better, no one trusts him not to hurt me again."

"Yet you are prepared to offer him your Aktar, so *you* trust him," Skani pointed out.

"I love him," Tom replied simply. "I'd rather risk his abuse than live without him, but the truth is that I trust him with my life. "

"That *is* the Aktar," Skani agreed, "the placing of your life in another's hands and believing they will honor and value your trust in them."

"Is the Aktar a legal ceremony?" Tom asked suddenly.

"Our laws hold that the Aktar is the most sacred and unbreakable bond between two people," Skani answered. "The attempted breaking of the Aktar is the most heinous crime that still stands on our world."

Tom jumped to his feet. The movement drew most of the eyes in the room upon him.

"Tom?" Chakotay queried in concern, worried by Tom's flushed cheeks and over bright eyes.

"I need to go back to Voyager," Tom gasped. He didn't wait for permission to leave, he just slapped his comm. badge in the prearranged signal for transport.

As Tom shimmered out of sight, Gaskar looked curiously at the warrior Chakotay. Perhaps he had been mistaken in his earlier assessment of Tom and Chakotay's relationship, he decided, because no Carskoni would sit still while his obviously distressed Aktari fled a room. It was only when Skani rejoined him and whispered in his ear that Gaskar's eyes took on a different type of cool speculation.

He patted Skani gently in agreement and waited for the entertainment to unfold.

~~~

"Permission to return to Voyager, Captain," Chakotay hissed at Kathryn.

"No, Commander," Kathryn replied gently. "We only have another hour to go and Tom's departure was already rude enough. We can't risk offending anyone with your absence too."

"He looked upset," Chakotay pointed out.

"He did," Kathryn agreed, "but to be honest I think he behaved remarkably well under the circumstances. Following him now will just draw attention to his panic. I think we should leave him alone and on our return to the ship, we should simply compliment him on how well he did up to the point he left. It was you yourself who gave him the ability to simply transport out like that. Perhaps if you hadn't, he would have managed to cope with the whole dinner"

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Chakotay growled.

Kathryn shrugged. "Just calling it as I see it, Chakotay. Sometimes it's best to let people stand or fall on their own two feet. Tom's been doing extremely well on his own over the last few months."

"He hasn't been," Chakotay replied firmly. He decided it was time to take the bull by its horns. At least in the presence of the aliens, Kathryn would have to keep her voice down. Besides, the worst she could do was have him arrested and at least that way he'd be back on Voyager and able to check that Tom was alright.

"Hasn't been doing well?" Kathryn asked with studied innocence.

"Hasn't been on his own," Chakotay admitted, then waited for the axe to fall.

"I know," Kathryn replied coolly. "Of course, now you've finally admitted it, I'm sure we'll enjoy discussing it later."

She decided the look of complete shock on Chakotay's face was priceless.

"So can I go back to Voyager now?" Chakotay finally asked, when he recovered from his shock..

"No," Kathryn replied firmly, but she couldn't resist offering him a small smile of understanding for his concern. To be honest, had he *not* wanted to follow Tom she would have had far more serious doubts about their relationship.

~~~

"There's got to be *something* in the regulations," Tom insisted. "Look under Prime Directive or something."

"That is merely a rule that we cannot interfere in alien cultures, not an instruction that we must abide by them ourselves," the Doctor replied caustically.

"But it was you who told me about the various sexual and cultural variations on the aligned worlds," Tom argued. "There has to be a specific regulation that states that any legally binding ceremony of marriage is to be honored."

"It won't cover slavery, Tom," the Doctor pointed out.

"God, you're just as narrow-minded as the rest of them," Tom pronounced in disgust. "Forget the word 'slave', the Carskoni don't even understand the term. It's not slavery, it's just a publicly sanctioned form of D/s and you were the one who told me all about that being perfectly legitimate."

"It is a widely practiced form of relationship on Gandia Prime," the Doctor agreed. "The practice of Dominant/Submissive relationships there is widespread."

"So check to see if the computer has records of anyone from there joining Starfleet. All I need is an example of a Starfleet sanctioned couple who practice D/s and the Aktar ceremony will be binding, whatever the Captain says."

"You are, of course, assuming that Chakotay will agree," the Doctor pointed out, "and since the formal dinner will be over in fifty-seven minutes you hardly have time to convince him."

"You just concentrate on finding me a solution, Doc. I'll worry about Chakotay. I guess it's simply time for me to find out whether he trusts me as much as I trust him."

~~~

"What do you think of them?" Kathryn asked Tuvok.

"I find their society fascinating," he replied honestly. "They appear to have successfully eradicated all of the problems that develop within large societies and although their solution seems strange, it is equally obvious that it works for them."

"I agree," Kathryn replied, surprising even herself. "It just goes to prove that you can't judge situations by their appearance."

"As is the case with the relationship between the Commander and Mr. Paris," Tuvok interjected slyly.

"It's not the same, Tuvok. You can't compare their relationship with an alien culture."

"Why not?" Tuvok asked. "Starfleet Regulations state that all forms of religious, cultural and sexual practices are legal as long as they are between consenting adults and do not cause harm or hardship to anyone else."

"It's the consenting bit that still concerns me, " Kathryn admitted. "I hardly believe it but I actually accept that all of these Aktari are sane and consenting adults simply partaking in a ritualistic form of marriage, yet I still struggle to believe that Tom Paris truly loves Chakotay."

"Perhaps the difference is simply that you are responsible for his welfare and not for theirs," Tuvok replied.

~~~

Tom arrived back on the surface of Osar with little more than ten minutes to spare. To his surprise, although he landed back in the original square since it was the only location that would accept an inwards transportation, he was met immediately by a tall Osari man, whose white tunic declared him an Aktari.

"Skani sent me to collect you," the Aktari said, giving Tom a welcoming smile. "My name's Chanti."

"What do you mean Skani sent you?" Tom demanded.

"You wish to declare Aktar, do you not?" Chanti asked nervously.

Tom looked at him in disbelief and then laughed.

"Are you people psychic?" he asked.

"Psychic?"

"Never mind. Am I too late?"

"No, I'm here to transport you directly to the outer chamber of the dining hall," Chanti told him. "Then, while I help you get ready for the ceremony, Skani's Master will ensure that the feast continues long enough for you to enter and make your offer."

"What if he refuses me? In front of everyone?" Tom gasped, assailed by doubt now the Aktar was becoming a reality. "Maybe he'll hate me for embarrassing him. Oh shit, what am I doing?"

"You are offering Aktar, which is the most noble and honorable ceremony on our world. If your warrior refuses you, there will be a thousand other Carskoni who will beg for the privilege of your offer. With your exotic beauty and your skills as a pilot, you would be a welcome addition on Osar. Skani told me that Gaskar has already told her that he will offer you sanctuary here if the ceremony is not honored by your own people."

"Just me, or Chakotay too?"

"Another warrior to protect the Osari is a gift of the gods, Tom. You could both stay here and make a life together if your people will not accept your choice."

"Assuming Chakotay accepts me first," Tom pointed out fearfully.

"Perhaps this is the solution you both are looking for. Here you would both be valued and honored. To be Carskoni is to be a hero of the Osari, and to be the Aktari of a Carskoni is the greatest honor that an Osari can aspire to. You, as an Aktari *and* a Carskoni would be perhaps unusual, but we would not throw away the benefits of your Carskoni training simply to make you fit within our normal culture. You will be perhaps the beginning of a new caste within our civilization. Perhaps many Osari will follow in your footsteps and become both Carskoni and Aktari too."

"And that's okay? It doesn't worry you?"

"Why would it? Strength lies in embracing new ideas and practices. Although our civilization is still deeply immersed in traditional values, we also welcome change. Without change our world would stagnate, our inspiration would die and our people would stop striving for new breakthroughs in technology. Then, one day, our enemies would advance beyond our own abilities and defeat us. The safety of Osar depends upon our ability to continually change and adapt to the universe around us. So we do not see your strangeness as a threat, we see it as an opportunity."

"Yeah, well in that case you're more advanced than humans. We still see difference as a threat," Tom replied bitterly.

"Perhaps you give too little credit to your crewmates," Chanti suggested. "You could not have survived your journey if you were unable to adapt to change. Surely they will see your decision as an act of bravery."

"Or desperation," Tom pointed out.

"Perhaps that too," Chanti agreed

Chanti gestured over the jewel within his Akton. It blinked twice and then, without even a tingle of warning, Tom found himself instantly transported.

"Everything you people do is so much smoother than our technology," he commented to Chanti.

"Our transportation devices are designed on a different principle than yours," Chanti replied as he began to help Tom strip his clothes off in preparation for the ritual tunic of a would-be Aktari. "Your transporters use phase transmitters to dematerialize your atomic structure and move it to a new location. Our transporters simply create a small trans-warp conduit and move you so quickly that you do not see yourself being moved."

"You moved my whole body intact?" Tom asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Chanti replied.

"Why didn't I explode under the acceleration of gravity?"

Chanti laughed. "It would take me two years to explain and we have only got about five minutes."

"No, seriously, Chanti," Tom interrupted. "Forget the Aktar for a moment. This technology you have. This ability to create small trans-warp conduits. Could it be used to move a starship? "

"We frequently use a similar technology on our ships," Chanti confirmed.

"So you could send us home. Voyager I mean. You could send us all home, couldn't you?"

Chanti bit his lip uncertainly.

"TELL ME," Tom yelled.

"We could," Chanti agreed slowly, "but we probably won't."

"Why not?"

"Because even to operate the equipment we would have to share knowledge with you that is sacred to the caste. The Carskoni would never agree."

"Because we aren't Carskoni?"

"No, because you aren't Aktari.".

"I don't understand."

"The balance of Osar depends on the fact that the Aktari alone possess the knowledge of the technology we have and the Carskoni alone have the ability to use it. It makes us mutually dependant upon each other. If your Chakotay accepts you as his Aktari, then we could offer our knowledge to you ,Tom, and the Carskoni could offer the ability to Chakotay."

"So if Chakotay refuses me, we also lose any chance of getting home?"

"Yes," Chanti admitted. "Except, if you look at it from the other way, it's a damned good reason why your fellow crewmembers would be forced to accept your decision."

Tom's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"This is all bullshit, isn't it?"

"The conduit is not 'bullshit'," Chanti said quietly, "and no Aktari nor Carskoni will tell you anything otherwise about the necessity to pass the knowledge on to a pair bonded by Aktar."

"You're trying to force the crew into accepting Chakotay and me," Tom concluded.

Chanti shrugged.

"The decision was Gaskar's. He says that if your people are unable to bend their rules for the sake of love, then he is not willing to allow our technology to fall into your hands."

"We don't want it, we just want to use it," Tom argued.

"It's the same thing. You will have scientists on your world who will eventually work out how the device worked. Then Osar will be at threat. Whether we are prepared to risk that threat depends upon what happens when you offer your Aktar."

~~~

"What's the delay?" Kathryn asked Gaskar suspiciously, although she was careful to keep her tone polite. "You said that we could return to our ship at 2300."

"An occasion of great import that you are to be honored in witnessing," Gaskar replied.

Kathryn raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"A ceremony of Aktar," Gaskar announced. "It is an unusual one, in that the one who would be Aktari is a Carskoni."

"Is that allowed?" Kathryn asked.

Gaskar shrugged.

"Why not? It is, I admit, the first time that we have encountered the situation yet none of our people are arrogant enough to believe that true love can be denied merely because of tradition. If a person finds themselves called to offer Aktar, it is a sacred and special calling that cannot and should not be interfered with. Aktari is a ritual between two spirits who cannot bear to be parted from each other and we believe that the witnessing of it is an almost holy occasion."

"Then I accept your gracious offer," Kathryn agreed, since to refuse would seem insufferably rude under the circumstances.

~~~

Tom trembled with a combination of fear and excited anticipation as Chanti helped him strip and change into the scant Osari costume he would wear for the ceremony of Aktar. Despite his determination to go through with the ceremony, he felt almost nauseous with dread. He knew that what he was about to do was a gamble, that the odds were stacked heavily against success and failure could cost him not only Chakotay but most probably would result in his having to choose between spending the rest of his life on Osar or in sickbay.

The Captain would undoubtedly see what he was about to do as proof of his insanity, and given the way his heart was racing, his knees were shaking and the almost painful ache of his cheek muscles because of a manic grin that he couldn't control, he wasn't entirely convinced she was wrong. He was so tense he wanted to scream, so scared he wanted to cry and yet so excited it was all he could do not to simply charge into the main hall and get the whole thing over and done with. After all the months of caution, of creeping around like a criminal, of pretending to be in control of himself when all he wanted, needed, was to throw himself at Chakotay's feet and cling to the older man like he was a life-line, he was finally going to risk everything on one roll of the dice.

He was going to throw away all that he and Chakotay had worked for because 'safe' wasn't enough anymore.

He *was* crazy.

But it was a good crazy. It was the madness of love that drove him, and if that was an illness then so be it. He didn't want to be cured.

Even so, despite the warm temperature of the room, his trembling wasn't only anticipation. His near nakedness made him feel chilled and vulnerable. It seemed that it wasn't enough that he had to face the possible humiliation of Chakotay's rejection. Simply entering the room in front of his fellow-officers dressed Osari fashion was going to be enough to destroy whatever little credibility he still had.

Chanti misunderstood the reason for Tom's distress.

"Your new master gives you the Bengat to signify his acceptance of your Aktar," Chanti advised, touching his own gold filigree collar reverently. "I expect that Gaskar will provide him with one for the ceremony but if you look closely at my Bengat, you'll see that it's not a random design. The links are formed in the shape of C's and B's, signifying that Baltzar and I are bonded. After the ceremony, your warrior Chakotay will commission a new Bengat especially for you."

"It's not my bare neck that worries me," Tom snarled.

His costume consisted of no more than two short oblongs of white fabric, fastened at shoulder and waist by gold clasps. It left not only his limbs exposed but also a wide swathe of flesh down the sides of his body, so that his ribs and hips were revealed. To his added consternation, the only undergarment Chanti offered him was a tiny golden thong that fitted like liquid metal over his groin and disappeared entirely between the crack of his ass. He was all too aware that every stride he took would give onlookers a flash of his butt cheeks and his gold encased balls.

"Why's it so damned short?" he demanded, looking enviously at the more discrete length of Chanti's otherwise identical tunic.

"For the ceremony, it is important that you show both your intended Carskoni and his gathered peers the value of the prize you offer him. After he accepts your pledge, it is normal to afterwards conceal his property from the eyes of others," Chanti replied. "It is important for a supplicant to create an impression of beauty and willing servitude. The envious reactions of other Carskoni is an important part of the ceremony. Unless at least one other Carskoni raises challenge, your would-be Master would be seen as foolish to accept your offer."

Tom's face drained of all color.

"What challenge? Nobody said anything about a challenge."

Chanti laughed and patted Tom's shoulder gently.

"Don't worry. The challenge is usually just a formality and it's far more likely to harm a Carskoni's pride than his body. It's just the guests way of expressing their approval of you as a prospective Aktari. Your Chakotay should wear the bruises of his combat with pride on your behalf. Besides, since you *do* fear your chosen warrior will reject you, it's an opportunity for you to see who else might be interested in sharing Aktar with you if you stay here after your ship departs. Remember, the Aktar is always an Osari's choice. Another Carskoni may challenge your intended Master, but that only gives them an opportunity to tempt you to change your mind. No Carskoni may take you against your will. Though, I suppose I should point out that my own Master, Baltzar, won me in challenge."

"But you just said it was the Osari's choice," Tom protested, his fear-filled eyes swirling with confusion.

"It is," Chanti grinned, "but I would have been stupid to choose the vanquished Carskoni, wouldn't I?"

"This is a mistake," Tom choked. "I never meant to put Chakotay at risk. I've changed my mind."

"He's a warrior, isn't he?" Chanti asked, frowning with obvious confusion. "Why would you choose a Carskoni who will not fight for you?"

"I want him to fight for me with words, not fists," Tom exclaimed. "I want him to stand up to the Captain, not a stranger. I won't have him hurt."

"As I said, the only real hurt he might face is to his pride. The challenge is a civilized one. No weapons are allowed and often no more than one or two token blows are exchanged before it is clear which Carskoni is stronger. Once dominance is established, Gaskar will immediately stop the fight and allow the next Carskoni to offer challenge. That way, even if many Carskoni vie for your attention, your chosen warrior will not be defeated by weariness or injury. There are rarely more than a half-dozen challenges and usually there's only one or two as a token gesture. It's not often that a challenger *seriously* intends to win the fight. My Master was the exception, rather than the rule."

"I want to talk to Gaskar before the ceremony," Tom declared.

"But that's not done. Osari do not demand to speak to Carskoni."

"But I'm not an Osari," Tom replied firmly.

"Forgive me," Chanti replied, with a bow. "Your beauty made me forget that you are Carskoni too. I will speak to Skani for you and ask her to request that her Master should attend you."

~#~#~#~#~#~

"What's going on?" Janeway demanded, as Gaskar left the room after a whispered conversation with his slave. "First they extend the dinner for some unexpected ceremony and now the ceremony is delayed. The whole thing smacks of some form of deceit. How do we know this isn't some ploy to keep us away from Voyager?"

"Perhaps it is," Chakotay replied grimly, so worried about Tom that he could barely sit still. It was bad enough that he'd had to remain on the planet when Tom had fled back to the ship. The idea that Tom might be in danger *on* Voyager was terrifying.

"It is not likely that the delay is deliberate," Tuvok interrupted. "The Carskoni are so technologically advanced that they have no need for subterfuge. If they intend to capture Voyager, they can do so without resorting to an elaborate charade."

"They're obviously not advanced enough to arrange a simple 'marriage' ceremony though," Kathryn snapped.

"It *would* appear that the ceremony is being delayed by factors Gaskar had not anticipated," Tuvok agreed.

"Why do I get the impression you know something that we don't?" Chakotay demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"I do not *know* anything," Tuvok replied blandly. "I merely am contemplating a possible explanation based upon available facts and the most probable behavior of a certain individual who is likely to act in improbable manner."

"That sounds like a contradiction in terms," Chakotay replied, more than a little bemused.

"Contradiction is an appropriate adjective to describe him, certainly," Tuvok agreed.

"I don't understand what you're talking about, Tuvok," Kathryn griped impatiently.

"Evidently," Tuvok replied dryly.

~#~#~#~#~#~

"It's out of the question," Gaskar stated firmly.

"Why?" Tom challenged. "I thought you people embraced change."

"We do," Gaskar agreed. "But we don't condone folly. While I do not doubt that you are a brave man, Lieutenant Paris, you are clearly not physically at your best. Although we are not familiar with your species physiology it is clear to me, from observing the other members of your crew, that you are severely underweight and are recovering from some incident of physical trauma. I would not allow one of my own warriors to fight under the circumstances. Besides, it is completely unnecessary. The warrior that you wish to pledge Aktar to is evidently a strong man. There would be no more than a few token challenges of his right to accept your offer. Your urge to protect him is laudable but completely erroneous. We are a civilized people who have no intention of attempting to prevent your choice of Master. The challenges are merely to show honor to you as his would-be Aktari."

"I understand that," Tom agreed. "Chanti explained that the combatants usually suffer no more than bruises and scrapes."

"So why are you suggesting this madness?" Gaskar demanded, his confusion evident.

"Because it's not the challenge of your people that matters here. If I want my crew to accept my decision, I can't be seen as weak, Gaskar. I can't give the impression that becoming Chakotay's Aktari makes me less of a 'warrior'. I don't want Chakotay to fight for me. I have to fight for myself. This is about me fighting for the right to become his. Can't you understand that?"

Gaskar pondered quietly, weighing Tom's words while his dark intelligent eyes observed Tom's expression of proud defiance.

Finally, he gave a reluctant smile and nodded.

"I understand completely. You wish to prove your strength as a Carskoni before you lay that strength voluntarily at Chakotay's feet. You believe that is the only way that your fellow warriors will accept that your decision to offer Aktar is not born of weakness."

"Exactly," Tom replied with a relieved sigh.

"But what if you are defeated? The challenges may not be dangerous, but they *are* serious. Just because a Challenger will not be permitted to strike more than a few blows, it doesn't mean that his victory is not real. If he simply proves that he *could* defeat you, then he will be declared the victor. I doubt your Captain and crew will be impressed to both see you offer Aktar *and* be beaten in combat. It is unlikely that they will still see you as Carskoni under the circumstances. You double your risk by this choice."

"I know but I'm already risking everything. If I lose Chakotay, nothing else matters anyway, and at least this way I double my chance of convincing them that I have the right to make the choice that I have," Tom replied quietly.

"And if you are defeated?"

"Then I guess I'd better hope you meant it when you said we were welcome to stay, 'cos I doubt I'll be able to go back to Voyager unless I agree to spend the rest of our journey home in a padded cell."

"My offer is sincere, although if your warrior will not stay here with you, you will have to put aside your strange ways and attempt to fit within our society. If you have any doubts about Chakotay, I suggest that you desist now from the ceremony. That way you could remain here as just a Carskoni. Once you have declared your desire to be Aktari, it would be impossible for my people to see you in any other light. Even though you would be valued for your warrior skills, you would find yourself constantly pursued until you offered Aktar to one of us."

"I understand that."

"Even if that means you must offer Aktar to a new warrior?"

"Yes. If it comes to that, I'll have little choice," Tom admitted. "But if I thought Chakotay would leave me here alone, I'd hardly be offering him Aktar in the first place."

"Of course," Gaskar agreed. "I merely wanted to be sure you understood the possible consequences of your decision."

~#~#~#~#~#~

"The ceremony will begin shortly," Gaskar announced, with a smile, as he returned to the main hall. "For the benefit of our new friends, I would explain a little more about the Aktar before it begins. It is traditional that after the supplicant has announced his or her choice of Master, assuming that the chosen Carskoni accepts the honor that he or she has been offered, that any other Carskoni who desires the would-be Aktari should offer challenge."

"What kind of challenge?" Katherine asked.

"A physical test of unarmed prowess," Gaskar replied.

"A fight?" Chakotay asked, interested enough in the concept to temporarily put aside his growing worry for Tom.

"Indeed," Gaskar confirmed. "It is a tradition, It enables the gathered Carskoni to demonstrate to the supplicant that they may be a more suitable choice for his or her Aktar."

"What happens if the chosen Carskoni is defeated? Does the 'supplicant' then belong to the victor?" Tuvok asked. Although his voice was steady and his face expressionless, both Katherine and Chakotay turned to look at him worriedly as something in Tuvok's tone suggested that he was seriously concerned about the answer.

This time, Gaskar gestured that Skani should answer the question.

"No. The supplicant may choose to offer Aktar to their chosen warrior regardless. The challenge is intended to widen the choices of the would-be Aktari, not reduce them."

Tuvok nodded, apparently satisfied by her assurance.

"What if no one challenges the Carskoni's right to accept the Aktar of the 'supplicant'?" Harry asked.

"Usually the Carskoni decides to retract his or her acceptance of the Aktar. There is no honor in accepting the Aktar of a supplicant that no one else desires," Skani replied.

"It seems to me that your ceremony is full of similarities to our own culture, yet at the same time it's completely alien," Kathryn commented. "It's strange. In the traditional human marriage ceremony there is also an invitation for a third party to object to the union, but if they do it certainly isn't seen as a compliment to the couple. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Still, diversities of opinion and culture are just a matter of external perception," Skani replied. "The only important matter is the love and sincerity of the two people who wish to be bonded together. The manner of their joining is only important in that it ensures the couple are serious enough about their love to make a public declaration of their intention to make their relationship permanent. Ceremonies are simply a society's way of condoning such a choice and the ceremony of Aktar serves that purpose for us just as your ceremony of marriage does for yourselves."

"Indeed," Gaskar agreed with a small smile. "The reason the ceremony of Aktar is so sacred to our people is that it cannot be entered into lightly. Both the supplicant and their chosen Carskoni face a great potential risk to their pride. This is also why the Aktar is rarely broken. Value is placed most highly on that which is difficult to obtain. Neither a Carskoni nor an Osari enter into this ceremony unless they are seriously in love."

"So the challenge is a test of their love for each other?" Chakotay asked.

"Yes," Gaskar agreed.

"I can see that the Carskoni faces pain and the fear of public humiliation in the challenges," Kathryn replied thoughtfully, "but what does the Osari face?"

"The Osari faces the possibility of intense humiliation if no other Carskoni offers challenge. More than that though, they face temptation," Skani pointed out, with a small laugh. "If the would-be Aktari can be tempted away from their chosen by a stronger warrior, then their love is not true and will not last. It is best to find that out before the Aktar is sealed."

"I admit that I'm very interested in observing the ceremony," Kathryn whispered to Chakotay. "It's a fascinating culture, isn't it?"

He looked at her in surprise, but she had already turned away to gaze at the doorway in anticipation.

"Let the supplicant enter," Gaskar announced loudly, and the door shimmered and disappeared to reveal the would-be Aktari.

For a moment there was stunned surprise throughout the room, both from the Voyager crew and from the gathered Carskoni. and it was a wide-eyed Harry who finally broke the silence..

"Jesus," he exclaimed loudly. "It's Tom"

As though his voice broke the spell of shock that had frozen her to her chair, Kathryn surged to her feet, torn between surprise, concern and pure outrage as Tom entered the room. Save for his pale skin, the shortness of his costume, and the absence of a gold torque around his neck, he was dressed Osari fashion and there was no doubt whatsoever in her mind about what his intentions were.

To her left, the only person who had anticipated the identity of the would-be Aktari hid his satisfaction behind an emotionless mask.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?" Katherine barked. "Stand down and stop this farce immediately."

Immediately, two armed Carskoni bore down on her, grim frowns on their faces.

"If you wish to offer challenge, you must wait until the appropriate time," one of them advised her coldly. "If you attempt to interfere with the ceremony itself, you will be forcibly removed from this room."

"That is a member of my crew," Kathryn spat. "I insist that..."

"May I remind you of our delicate situation, Captain," Tuvok interrupted smoothly.

Kathryn's face twisted with impotent rage as she realized instantly that the safety of the entire crew still hung on the good will of the Carskoni. She sank back into her seat, eyes flashing at Gaskar. She was furious with herself for not anticipating Tom might do something stupid like this. Her only comfort was that Chakotay looked, if possible, even more stunned than she was.

His cheeks burning in an otherwise white face, Tom kept his eyes averted from his crew mates as he glided across the room. His long, pale legs gave no indication of his inner turmoil as they carried him towards Chakotay and then folded beneath him as he sank gracefully to the floor at Chakotay's feet.

Only then did he dare look up to face the stunned eyes of his lover. Chakotay's brown eyes were filled with fear rather than approval, and the expression wiped the prepared words of the Aktari ritual from Tom's tongue. His face drained of all remaining color and he began to panic. Only the sudden weakness of his legs prevented him from surging back to his feet and fleeing the room.

"Proud warrior," an Aktari kindly stage-whispered from the crowd.

Tom caught the words like a life-line and repeated them in desperation.

"Proud warrior..." he whispered, then his voice trailed off into an awkward silence. But just as the gathered Aktari were beginning to shuffle in sympathy with his embarrassment, his memory returned to rescue him. In a stronger voice he started again.

"Proud warrior, Chakotay, I ask you to consider the humble supplication of this unworthy vassal," Tom said. "Your bravery is legendary, your self-sacrifice for our people is sung by the tongues of countless more worthy candidates than I. Yet my heart sings a song that is for you alone. I offer my life, my body, my soul to you. I offer you my comfort when you are weary, my consolation when you are saddened, my companionship when you are lonely, my heat when you are chilled, my..."

Tom's eyes flared with panic as the words of the ritual fled him again in the face of Chakotay's continued silence. His eyes silently begged Chakotay to say or do anything to indicate that he understood and approved of his decision to offer Aktar to him. And when that didn't work, when Chakotay continued to look more embarrassed than moved by Tom's action, his fear was replaced by an almost angry desperation.

"I love you," he blurted. "Say I'm yours, Chakotay. Tell them you love me too, that you want me. Please!"

"Not like this, Tom," Chakotay begged, tears of shame forming in his eyes.

His embarrassment wasn't because of Tom's decision, it was because he'd allowed Tom to become desperate enough to do it. He felt ashamed of himself, as Tom's courage in defying the Captain so publicly cast his own caution under an intense spotlight and left him feeling that, yet again, he'd let Tom down. Over and over, despite the general perception of Tom as being weak, the pilot kept proving his courage was beyond question. It angered him that no-one else saw Tom for what he really was. With the possible exception of Tuvok, who was the only other person in the room who seemed completely unfazed by Tom's decision.

"Get off the floor, Tom," he practically growled.

Tom flinched at the seeming rejection, until Chakotay continued speaking and Tom realized that the other man's anger wasn't directed at him after all.

"You don't have to do this, Tom. I'm sorry I've made you feel that you had to. Well, no more. This ends here and now. I love you more than my own life and I'm not going to let us be kept apart anymore. I don't care what anyone else thinks. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, against *anyone*."

He surged to his feet and swiveled to face Kathryn.

"This is your fault," he accused her. "See what you've driven him to?"

Then the anger drained from his face, replaced by a weight of guilty sadness.

"No, it's not your fault," he muttered. "It's mine. I should have stood up to you before now. I should have made you see that no matter how terribly our relationship started, our love for each other will not be denied. I love him. Do you hear me, Kathryn? I LOVE HIM. And if you can't accept that, if you can't accept that we want to be together, then leave without us. We won't be parted any longer."

Tom's eyes were shining as he looked between Chakotay and the Captain, but his next words addressed her alone.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I know you've only ever tried to protect me, but can't you see that this is what I want? What I need? Asking me to give up Chakotay is like asking me to learn to live without breathing. I can't do it. I don't want to do it."

Kathryn gazed uncertainly between her glowering First Officer and the man kneeling at his feet. The situation had spiraled out of her control once more and she knew there was no point denying the inexplicable bond that had formed between the two men. Short of exiling Chakotay from the ship or putting one or the other in the brig, it was pointless to keep trying to part them. Even so, she couldn't wipe her hands of her responsibility to Tom. The last time she had trusted Chakotay with Tom's safety he had abused that trust and no matter how many times she reminded herself that Chakotay had been ill at the time, she was crippled by the fear that she was going to make the same tragic mistake again.

After Chakotay's attempted suicide, when Chakotay had been open to being *Tom's* property, she had found a temporary peace. As long as Tom had seemed in control of the relationship she had been able to put aside her own guilt-ridden doubts. But it had soon become clear that no matter what 'games' Tom and Chakotay played, no matter how submissive Chakotay was prepared to act, the dynamics of Tom and Chakotay's relationship centered around the pilot's inexplicable need to let Chakotay dominate him.

And Katherine, whose own self-image depended so completely on her need to dominate the world around her, could only see Tom's desire to participate in a dominant/submissive relationship as being evidence of mental instability. It wasn't that she was naively unaware that such relationships existed. It was that she couldn't envisage anyone as bright and talented as Tom ever voluntarily choosing to partake in one.

So although she wasn't foolish enough to continue denying the very obvious need Tom had for Chakotay's love, she was equally certain that once Tom was 'better' he'd be grateful to her for not allowing him to make a complete fool of himself in this way. Somehow she had to find a solution that would give them all some breathing space until Tom truly recovered..

"Tom, Chakotay, there's no need for any of this. We can work something out. As long as you agree to certain conditions, I am open to the idea of you continuing your relationship on board Voyager."

"What conditions?" Tom laughed bitterly. "A constant barrage of psychological tests? Regular physical examinations to ensure he doesn't hurt me? You going to bug our quarters, our bedroom or ourselves? You're my Captain, not my keeper."

"I'm responsible for your mental health as well as your physical body, Lieutenant. You said it yourself. I'm your Captain and I don't take that responsibility lightly. I've stood back and let you be hurt before. I won't ever make that mistake again."

"What the hell gives you the right to tell me who or how I should love?"

"I think the very fact you are kneeling half naked in a crowded room, begging Chakotay to accept you as his *slave* gives me the right, Tom. Your behavior here tonight proves that you're still acting under the influence of your past experiences. I could perhaps accept you were in your right mind if you had attempted to marry Chakotay as his equal, but for you to believe this...this..." she gestured around the room, "...this bizarre ceremony is appropriate, just convinces me that you're still far from well and I won't permit you to do this to yourself."

"Tom, the Captain's...." Chakotay began.

"Don't you DARE say she's right, you bastard," Tom snarled.

Chakotay just smiled reassuringly.

"As I was saying, the Captain's obviously forgotten where she is and who is listening. I'm sure she had no intention to insult our gracious hosts by suggesting that she disapproves of their sacred ceremony of Aktar."

"Indeed," Gaskar interrupted grimly. "I am sure you meant us no offence, did you, Captain?"

Kathryn pulled her face into an expression of diplomacy. She cringed inside at the cruelty of her next words and prayed that Tom would forgive her for them when he finally came back to his senses.

"I am not questioning the validity of your beliefs," she replied, "and I agree that your society is harmonious and civilized. However, Lieutenant Paris is one of MY people and I say it is not appropriate for him to take part in this ceremony. I don't blame you for agreeing to allow Tom to do this, and I understand that you see the offering of Aktar as being a sane and honorable choice for an Osari. But that's exactly why Tom can't take part in this ceremony. You don't understand the deeper ramifications of his decision. Although I regret saying this publicly, Lieutenant Paris is not...is not completely sane, Gaskar. Although I would not object in principle to one of my crew embracing your traditions, Tom's case is different. He isn't well enough to make an informed decision about what Aktar really means. So allowing him to do this doesn't honor your ceremony, it makes a mockery of it. I don't know what he said to you to convince you to allow him to do this, but I doubt he admitted to you that he has a history of severe mental illness. You're unwittingly taking advantage of his vulnerability."

"Is this true?" Gaskar asked Tom, his brow creasing with concern.

"Yes," Tom agreed. "'History' being the operative word. I don't deny that I suffered a nervous breakdown as the result of a traumatic experience. It's no secret. *She* made sure of that. But it's irrelevant. It doesn't mean I'm unwell now. If you have any doubts about my mental competence, our own Doctor will confirm that I am completely cured and am of sound mind. I'm making this choice freely and with full awareness of all the possible consequences."

Gaskar looked at Tom's expression of fierce determination and nodded thoughtfully.

"That seems to negate your concerns, Captain," he said firmly. "Had the Lieutenant once lost his sight, then regained it, you would not continue to call him blind, Likewise it seems to me that a previous mental illness does not justify you now declaring him unfit to offer Aktar. Only the warrior Chakotay can now say whether Tom's Aktar is acceptable to him."

The low grumbling of discontent from the gathered Carskoni suggested that Gaskar's decision sat no easier with his people than it did with the Voyager crew. Kathryn took heart from their doubt and stood her ground.

"The 'warrior' Chakotay was the cause of Tom's illness," she declared loudly. "When Tom refused to voluntarily become his lover, Chakotay kidnapped him and held him captive. He abused Tom so badly that Tom's mind shattered. Now Tom believes he loves his previous captor, but it's a love born from fear. Do you really believe that Chakotay can be trusted to *own* him now?"

"Is this true?" Gaskar demanded, turning towards Chakotay with a look of shocked horror on his face.

"I..." Chakotay began helplessly.

"Commander Chakotay *did* hurt the Lieutenant," Tuvok interrupted. "But he was not responsible for his actions. He had been grievously wounded by the chemical weapon of an enemy and it affected his behavior and judgment. Since that time, the relationship between the Commander and the Lieutenant has been one of mutual healing. While the Lieutenant's relationship with the Commander is unusual within our culture, I believe it would be more harmful to both of them to stand in its way." He turned to address the Captain directly. "They have found a path to walk together that fulfills both of their needs. It is illogical to deny the validity of their love simply because you disapprove of how that emotion was originally forged."

"You're the last person qualified to lecture on emotions, Tuvok," Katherine snapped.

"Captain... Katherine. Can't you see that Tom and I need each other?" Chakotay begged. "I agree that I harmed Tom in ways that I can't begin to put right and perhaps he'll never completely recover from what I did to him. Just as nothing you do now will ever erase the fact that you let him down when he *did* need you. It's too late now. You can't turn back the clock. Denying him what he wants now won't make up for the past. This isn't about Tom and I, this is about your own guilt. Don't hurt him just to salve your own conscience."

"Chakotay, I'm warning you," Kathryn snarled, turning to her First Officer. "If you let him do this, then I'll consider you to blame, not Tom. I'll have you thrown in the brig the moment you step foot back on Voyager."

"I accept your warning," Chakotay nodded, then turned to the kneeling pilot, "and I DO accept your Aktar, Tom."

Tom scrambled to his feet and threw himself into Chakotay's arms.

For a moment there was a deathly silence in the room as the gathered Carskoni mumbled amongst themselves uncomfortably, disturbed by the revelations of the Captain.

Gaskar glanced around the room worriedly.

"Are there any who would challenge Chakotay's right to accept the Aktar?" he asked.

The room was silent.

Tom sagged in Chakotay's arms, trembling as he realized that not only had Kathryn ensured that he and Chakotay would have to stay on Osar, but that Chakotay would now be seen as a Carskoni who had accepted an inferior Aktari.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed into Chakotay's neck. "I've ruined everything, haven't I?

~#~#~#~#~#~

"You have to," Chanti hissed.

Baltzar glared at him.

"He's flawed. He has offered his Aktar in ignorance. You heard his own Captain condemn him as mad. How can I stand in praise of his Aktar if it is not real?"

"She's an alien barbarian. What does she know?" Chanti argued. "I spoke with him, Master. I *know* his mind is clear and his Aktar is true."

"You accept him as a fellow Aktari?" Baltzar asked.

"I do, and who but an Aktari can judge such a thing?"

Baltzar looked thoughtfully at his lover.

"Then I must accept your wisdom, Chanti," he said finally. "It is a foolish Carskoni who doubts the wisdom of his Aktari."

"Just as only a foolish Aktari would doubt the strength of his Master," Chanti replied. "Please do not vanquish him."

Baltzar laughed.

"I have seen him fight verbally, Chanti. I don't doubt his fists are as sure as his words. He will make good account of himself, I am certain."

"I love you," Chanti replied, then drew back to allow his Master to rise.

"I CHALLENGE THE AKTAR!" Baltzar bellowed, surging to his feet.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Tom sagged against Chakotay in relief as the roar filled the hall and was applauded by a tumultuous banging of fists against tables from the gathered Carskoni.

"Challenge has been made," Gaskar announced, barely able to hide his relief.

Chakotay kissed Tom's forehead.

"I love you, babe," he whispered. "I'll make you proud of me."

Tom detached himself and gave Chakotay a mysterious smile.

"I'm already proud of you, Chakotay. This is my turn to make you proud of ME."

"What are you saying?" Chakotay demanded.

"I'm accepting the challenge myself," Tom announced calmly.

"NO."

"It's not up to you, Chakotay. This is MY fight."

"GASKAR," Chakotay roared. "What is this madness? You said the Carskoni was the one who fought the challenges."

"Indeed," Gaskar replied calmly, "and Tom IS a Carskoni. His choice to become your Aktari has not diminished him in our eyes. Has it diminished him in yours?"

Understanding filled Chakotay's face, but he lunged forward and caught Tom by the arm.

"Don't do this, Tom. Not for THEM!" He glared at the stunned faces of the Voyager crew. "They aren't worth it. You don't have to prove anything, Tom. We can stay here. We can be together. Who cares what *they* think?"

"I do," Tom replied firmly. "They think I'm mad, Chakotay. They think the only reason I want to be with you is because I'm too traumatized by what you did to me to even be a real member of the crew anymore. They think the only reason I want to kneel at your feet is because I'm weak and I need your strength to support me."

"Look at the size of him," Chakotay hissed, as Baltzar stripped his outer robe to reveal his strong, clearly-defined physique. "What the hell do you know about unarmed combat?"

"As much as any *other* Starfleet Officer," Tom growled back. "I might have been thrown out of the Academy, Chak, but it wasn't because I failed self-defense 101. Or don't you trust me either? Are you just like the rest of them? Don't *you* have any respect for me?"

"Dammit, Tom. You know that's not what I'm saying. I'd object as strongly if it were B'Elanna trying to accept the challenge and you can't doubt my respect for her. This isn't about your courage, Tom. Spirits, you've got more of that in your little finger than anyone else I've ever met. But you're dangerously underweight still and in no physical condition to fight."

Tom's eyes just glinted cold blue fire. Chakotay sighed and changed tactics.

"I box for a hobby, Tom. I'd *enjoy* the challenge. Why not let me have some fun here?"

"Because this isn't "fun", Chakotay. This is our love I'm fighting for," Tom snarled.

"You mean your *pride*," Chakotay accused.

"That too," Tom admitted without shame.

"Did you mean it when you offered me Aktar?"

"Of course," Tom said, his face twisting with fresh hurt.

"So you agree I'm your Master now?"

"Yes," Tom whispered.

"And if I refuse to let you fight, what then?" Chakotay asked pointedly.

Tom deflated visibly.

"Please don't do this to me," he begged.

"So if I say 'no', that's the end of the matter?" Chakotay demanded coldly.

"Yes, Sir," Tom whispered, dropping his face in defeat.

A wave of relief flooded through Chakotay as Tom's defiance crumbled. He couldn't bear the thought of ever seeing another bruise on Tom's pale skin. Better that Tom's pride was wounded than his still-fragile body was subjected to Baltzar's fists.

Except, perhaps, that Tom's pride was far less likely to heal.

He gazed for a long time at the bowed head of the man he loved, then looked speculatively at the people around him. Katherine was still glowering with anger, but she had relaxed perceptively when she had heard him forbid Tom to fight. Her relief was echoed on everyone else's face too.

No, not everyone's face, he realized. Both Tuvok and, oddly, Harry seemed to be glaring at him with expressions of disapproval.

"Gaskar?" Chakotay called out.

"Yes?"

"My Aktari accepts the challenge," Chakotay announced.

He sensed, rather than heard, the Captain's hiss of outrage but he was too enraptured by the look on Tom's face to give it more than passing concern. Tom raised his head so he could stare Chakotay in the face, and his expression was filled with so much love and gratitude that Chakotay felt fresh tears brimming in his eyes.

"Just remember this, Tom," he said, forcing the words through a throat tight with emotion, "whatever happens, you can't lose because you've already won. I'm yours, Tom, if you want me."

"I want you," Tom husked back. "All I want to do is prove how much."

"When this is over, I'll expect you to prove that to me personally, in a *far* less public way," Chakotay replied.

Tom blushed and his eyes sparkled.

"Hold that thought," he said, rising gracefully to his feet, then cursing as he realized that he most definitely wasn't dressed for fighting.

As though he was psychic, Chakotay understood Tom's problem immediately and called Gaskar over again.

The Carskoni approached with a surprisingly patient smile on his face.

"If Tom is fighting as a Carskoni, he should be dressed as one," Chakotay pointed out.

Gaskar looked surprised, but nodded.

"I agree," he said, gesturing Skani to take Tom to prepare for the challenge.

~#~#~#~#~#~

"I can't believe you're allowing this," Katherine snarled, as soon as Tom left the room. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, Chakotay? Am I seriously supposed to believe you love him when you're allowing him to take part in this barbaric ritual?"

"The ritual of fighting for one's mate is widely practiced, Captain," Tuvok interrupted. "We do the same on Vulcan and you have never expressed any concern over *our* rituals."

"I'm no happier about this than you are," Chakotay replied, as Katherine glared at Tuvok. "But Tom's pride is at stake here and I don't have the right to interfere. Bruises fade far sooner than injuries to the spirit. I refuse to insult him by suggesting he isn't capable of making his own decisions. Just because Tom has trusted me enough to give me power over him, it doesn't mean I have to use it. Except in our private lives, I have no intention of ever interfering with his right to make his own choices. Perhaps you should attempt to show him the same respect."

~#~#~#~#~#~

"He's left handed," Skani said, as she handed Tom a Carskoni uniform. "He's very strong, but a little slow because he has a barely-healed hip injury . You'll notice he favors his right leg. I'd suggest you move fast and attack his point of weakness. A good kick to his pelvis will take his right leg out from under him and if he stumbles, you'll instantly be declared the victor because Gaskar won't want to risk you re-opening Baltzar's wound. Our warriors are far too valuable to Osar for them to risk injury in this type of combat."

"Thank you," Tom said, surprised by her help.

Skani grinned. "You might be Carskoni, but you're also an Aktari now, Tom, so you're fighting for our pride as much as your own."

She dropped to her knees and helped Tom with the unfamiliar fastenings of his boots.

"To be honest, almost all of the Carskoni are pretty slow on their feet. Because the defense of Osar depends on the strength of our military weapons rather than actual physical combat, not many of the Carskoni even know *how* to fight. Challenges to the Aktar are the only occasions they face combat and they depend on brute strength rather than skill."

"But they are all so muscular," Tom pointed out, confused by the picture Skani was painting.

Skani shrugged.

"The Carskoni exercise almost constantly, using weights to increase the size and definition of their musculature, but it's just for show. The most important skills of a Carskoni are the ability to fly a ship and fire a weapon. So although you can't compete with them for size and strength, your speed and intelligence should more than make up for their bulk. Between you and me, none of the Carskoni are particularly smart."

"I can't believe you just said that," Tom laughed.

"Why?" Skani asked. "It's true. It's not their brains that attracts us, you know. We fully appreciate the strength and bravery that they use to protect us, but there's no point denying the fact that many of them initially chose to join the warrior caste because they weren't smart enough to be technicians. It's not insulting to simply acknowledge people's limitations. Their value to us is as protectors, just as our value to them is as the thinkers. Both castes, the Aktari and the Carskoni, work together to make Osar a safe place for the other citizens. I'm lucky, because Gaskar is wiser than most Carskoni but, even so, it was his noble spirit I feel in love with, not his brains. Of course, his body is a definite bonus too," she added with a grin. "But let's face it, no one is perfect. Not even our Masters."

"Chakotay is," Tom replied loyally. "He's clever and loyal and brave and noble and gorgeous and..."

"And very lucky to have an Aktari who loves him so much," Skani interrupted softly.

Tom blushed.

"I do. I know what you heard out there, what the Captain said about us, but it's not true. I *do* know he's the only person who can ever make me happy. I don't care whether everyone thinks I'm mad for loving him so much. I just...just wish they'd trust HIM. That's the real hurtful thing about all of this. Whenever anyone says I'm insane for forgiving him, it's not me they are attacking really, it's Chakotay. It's all very well them saying he was ill when he hurt me and that they trust him now. It's just words, because as long as I'm being criticized for loving him they don't really believe in him, do they?"

"Forgive me for being blunt, Tom, but you're not being completely honest either, are you?"

"What do you mean?" Tom asked fearfully.

"I've seen the way you and Chakotay interact. Your obvious need of his approval is extreme even for an Aktari. I'm not criticizing you, I'm simply pointing out that your Captain isn't completely wrong when she sees your relationship with Chakotay as potentially dangerous. You are giving power over yourself to someone that she isn't sure is worthy of the trust. On Osar, it wouldn't be an issue because no Carskoni would ever abuse an Aktari. Given your own people's lack of familiarity with this form of relationship, you are making a leap of faith when you offer Aktar to your warrior. You do not *know* he will not abuse you. You merely *hope* he won't. And the slightly disturbing aspect is that I get the distinct feeling that you don't really care whether he does. You want him anyway."

"That's not true," Tom snapped, then the anger faded from his expression under Skani's gentle gaze. "Well, maybe it is a *little* true," he confessed reluctantly. "I mean I *do* trust him completely. But I suppose, even if I didn't, I still couldn't give him up. Sometimes, it frightens me how much I need him. It's like I've lost part of me and I can't find it again. I feel empty, amputated even, and I need to fill that aching void with *something* and...and..."

"And only Chakotay can fill it?" Skani asked.

"Yes," Tom whispered.

"Everyone needs a little support sometimes," Skani replied. "And I can see that your warrior is strong enough to bear the burden of the little extra weight you place upon him. As for your Captain though, I think it's time you sat down with her and explained what's truly in your heart. It's obvious that she does care very much about you. Perhaps if you tried to explain, she would listen."

"I'm hoping that after she sees me fight for what I want, she will believe that my need for Chakotay isn't a weakness, even if it is."

"Remember what I said about understanding that people have limitations?" Skani asked.

Tom nodded.

"Then why not understand that you have limitations too? Nobody is good at *everything*. No one is strong all the time, and the stronger you are in some aspects of your life, the more you have a need to relax control in others. It seems to me that you must have always had a genuine need for a supportive relationship, otherwise you wouldn't have the confidence to fight for Chakotay against everyone's bad opinion. In a way, you're fighting for the right to be able to be weak. That's not a bad thing, Tom. It's about balance and harmony. In my own life I have great responsibility. That responsibility is a weight that I gladly lie at the door of my bedroom when I get home at night. Then my time as Gaskar's Aktari allows me freedom and peace so that I regain my strength. Chakotay's decision to allow you to fight the Challengers is proof enough that he understands that you will always live two lives, one public and one private and that the edges might blur but can never be erased. That, I believe, is the difference between what we call Aktari and what your Captain calls slavery."

~#~#~#~#~#~

"How come that outfit makes the Carskoni look dangerous but just makes Tom look sexy as hell?" Harry griped, as Tom re-emerged into the main hall clad in black leather. "There should be a law against people being *that* good-looking."

Harry's comment caused lips to twitch along the otherwise worried row of faces among the Voyager crew and Chakotay threw him a grateful glance. He, of all people, knew how much Harry loved Tom so he fully understood Harry's attempt to break the ice for what it was. Unfortunately, Katherine's face retained its narrow-lipped displeasure.

"The Lieutenant will prevail," Tuvok told him, with quiet confidence. "His courage and determination are greater weapons than muscle alone."

"You've always supported us, haven't you?" Chakotay asked, in a low voice.

"No," Tuvok replied. "but I've always supported Lieutenant Paris. Once it was clear to me that he was able to make reasoned decisions once more, I accepted his choice of you as a mate."

"Why?"

"a'Tha," Tuvok replied. "All Vulcans possess direct experience of the force responsible for the creation and maintenance of the universe."

"You mean you believe in the concept of a single God?" Chakotay replied, a little surprised.

"Not precisely. The terms are not comparable. The concept that I am raising comparison to is 'fate', perhaps. I believe that fate brought you and Mr. Paris together. It appears, from observation, that you are his Adun, his chosen life-partner, and although your relationship may still prove injurious to one or both of you, it is as illogical to attempt to prevent it as it would be to attempt to prevent a tide from turning."

"I don't think I can do this," Chakotay interrupted, as he saw Tom square off against the challenging Carskoni.

"a'Tha," Tuvok repeated. "This is Tom's destiny. You cannot interfere."

"You've picked a hell of a time to go mystical on me, Tuvok," Chakotay snarled.

"Look within yourself," Tuvok replied. "You understand the concept yourself of arivne, the state of unity between matter, energy and thought. This *is* the only way that Tom can demonstrate that his decision to bond with you brings balance to his life rather than discord."

"You called him Tom."

"This is not a time for formality, Chakotay. It is a time for us to demonstrate our affection towards him by allowing him to choose his own path."

"Spirits," Chakotay half-cursed, half-prayed, as he saw the huge Carskoni throw a bone-shattering punch directly at Tom's face.

Only Tuvok's presence at his side prevented him from leaping to his feet and snatching Tom out of the way of the blow. He half-closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of Tom's blood splattering the floor as the alien's fist connected with his nose.

But it didn't.

Tom ducked his head, skipped backwards, twisted and let loose a round-house kick that connected with Baltzar's hip. Gasps of surprise echoed through the room as the Carskoni staggered slightly from Tom's blow and then gazed at the smaller man with an expression of obvious surprise.

Baltzar was more cautious as he approached the pilot again. This time he fainted with his left hand and struck a powerful blow with his right. Tom was caught by surprise and Baltzar's fist connected with his ribs, but it was only a glancing blow. Tom was moving away too fast for the Carskoni to connect with any real force. Instead of leaping backwards, he dove inside Baltzar's swinging arms, jabbed two sharp punches against the spot he had kicked then dropped to the floor and rolled backwards before the Carskoni could close his arms into a crushing bear-hug.

As Tom scrambled back to his feet and faced Baltzar once more, a murmur of approval began to rumble through the audience and reluctant smiles began to appear on the faces of Voyager's crew as they watched Tom make his much larger opponent look like a blundering ox. They winced as Baltzar finally landed a blow against Tom's shoulder that nearly knocked the pilot off his feet, but when Tom turned his near-fall into another round-house kick that made Baltzar bellow in pain, Harry leapt to his feet and cheered loudly for his friend.

Before Baltzar recovered to strike again, Gaskar stepped forward, arms raised.

"The first challenge is complete. The Carskoni Tom Paris is declared victor," he announced.

To Tom's surprise, a wide-smile spread over Baltzar's face and he gave Tom a short but sincere bow.

"Are there any other Challengers?" Gaskar asked.

Chakotay held his breath, then released it in a hiss of dismay as another Carskoni surged to his feet.

"I challenge," the stranger announced, with an eager grin.

Baltzar leant in towards Tom.

"I don't know who told you about my hip," he whispered, "although I suspect it was Skani, the witch. Anyway, Draskar is right-handed and cracked two ribs bouncing a shuttle last month."

"Which side?" Tom whispered back, with a grateful smile.

"Left," Baltzar laughed, patting Tom on the shoulder before returning to his seat.

~#~#~#~#~#~

"How long is this going to go on for?" Chakotay demanded, as the sixth challenger entered the combat area.

Tom's hair was stained dark with perspiration, his right eye was blackened and puffed closed and another bruise shadowed his left jaw. Chakotay didn't even want to imagine the color of Tom's skin under the black leather. He'd seen at least four serious blows connect with Tom's shoulders and ribs and Tom had been limping badly since the fourth Challenger had managed to kick him viciously in the thigh. Yet in each individual combat, Tom had clearly emerged the winner.

"It's difficult to say," Skani replied. "It's not usual for there to be this many challenges, but I think that every time Tom wins he becomes a more attractive prize. Nobody's ever seen an Aktari who could fight before. The more Tom proves his physical strength, the more potential honor is offered to his Master. The Carskoni are beginning to envy you, perhaps. It is a little disconcerting, to tell the truth. Perhaps they will no longer prize a normal Aktari so much."

"It's not his strength he's proving, it's his courage," Chakotay growled, as he saw that Tom's new challenger had learned from the mistakes of his predecessors and instead of allowing Tom to dart around him like an irritating fly, the Carskoni drove Tom back against the first row of the audience so he couldn't escape his blows.

"Or his intelligence," Skani laughed, as Tom realized he was trapped and instead of trying to duck the Carskoni's fists he threw himself at the warrior, wrapping his legs in a crushing grip around the larger man's waist and then striking his head with both fists while the outraged Challenger tried to pry him off.

"Shit!" someone declared, as the Carskoni gave up trying to unwrap Tom's legs and struck a savage blow against the back of Tom's head.

Chakotay tore his eyes away from the fight and stared in complete surprise at the Captain. She was bouncing up and down in her chair, her own fists clenched as a series of extremely un-Captain like curses emerged from her mouth.

Tom boxed the Carskoni in the right ear, then the left. The Carskoni bellowed and struck the back of Tom's head again. This time Tom was ready. He tucked his chin against his chest and allowed the Carskoni's own blow to drive his forehead against his opponents nose.

"YES!" Katherine exclaimed, as the Carskoni staggered back, blood splaying from his broken nose, and Tom dropped to his feet and swayed as he was declared the victor.

Chakotay barely heard her. He was too concerned about the almost cross-eyed glaze of Tom's eyes.

"He's concussed," he declared to Gaskar. "You have to stop this now. He's fought enough."

"I challenge," a new Carskoni roared, surging to his feet and striding forward.

"I accept," Tom hissed, although the Challenger was little more than a dark blur in front of his eyes.

Gaskar frowned. The challenge was getting out of hand. What had started as no more than a traditional affirmation of the Aktar had become an ugly hunger as Tom had proven his Aktar to be something more precious than any of the Carskoni had ever imagined. Tom was not only offering the devotion of an Aktari but the strength of a Carskoni, and with every warrior he defeated the definition of a desirable Aktari was being changed for good. This fight was threatening to become something that could change Osar forever, and although Gaskar didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing, he knew his people weren't ready for such a rapid upheaval.

He had to stop the challenges and the only way he could do that was to remove Tom's need to keep fighting.

He spun on Katharine.

"Is this what you needed to see?" he snarled. "Do you still say Lieutenant Paris is *vulnerable* and in need of your protection? Can you sit there and see this warrior fight and still doubt his strength? It is not his muscle that is winning the challenges, it is his mind, his will, his determination not to be defeated. Can you see that and still not see that he *must* also have the ability to choose his own path? Are you really willing to lose a warrior like him from your crew rather than admit that you were wrong about him?"

Katherine's face twisted with indecision, her eyes darting between Tom's bruised face and Chakotay's almost equally wounded eyes.

"Please, Katherine," Chakotay begged. "Don't make me sit here and watch him suffer any longer."

"You could stop this," she snarled sarcastically. "You're his *Master* aren't you?"

"And you're his Captain. BE his Captain."

"He's made it perfectly clear that he doesn't give a damn about my opinion," she growled.

"Would you just listen to yourself, Katherine? You don't sound like a Starfleet Captain, you sound like a jilted lover. Spirits, that's the problem isn't it? You're jealous."

"I can assure you I have NEVER been attracted to Tom Paris," she snapped.

"I know," Chakotay replied, "but that's not the kind of jealousy I'm talking about. This isn't about Tom loving me, it's about Tom trusting me. You hate that, don't you? You hate that he's chosen to turn to me instead of depending on you."

"*I* didn't hurt him, Chakotay. It wasn't *me* who abused him. All I did was make the mistake of trusting *you* and he's never forgiven me for it. How the hell can he forgive you for what you did and still hate me for making that mistake?"

"Katherine, Tom doesn't hate you. He doesn't blame you. He never has. The only person blaming you is yourself. Let it go. Put it behind you like Tom and I have put it behind us. Forgive yourself. Don't let your own unnecessary feelings of guilt blind you to the fact that he needs you."

"Does he?" Katherine asked bitterly.

"Find out for yourself," Chakotay replied. "Tell him you want him to come back to the ship. Tell him you'll accept our relationship. Just try it and see how fast he comes running to you, Katherine."

"He won't," she whispered. "I've hurt him, hurt both of you too much. I can see that now. I can see the dislike in your own eyes. You seem so calm but I know you too well for you to hide it from me. You really hate me, don't you?"

"Yes," Chakotay admitted. "But then I hate myself too, so don't take it personally. Tom doesn't hate you though. I don't think Tom is capable of hating anyone. No matter how much someone hurts him, he always finds a way to forgive. I'm proof of that. If you reach out to him, he'll accept your apology. Trust me."

"And that's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? Me trusting you?" Katherine asked.

"No," Chakotay replied. "It just comes down to you trusting Tom. The rest will eventually work itself out."

For a long moment Katherine stared at Chakotay, her eyes unreadable, and then she surged to her feet and strode towards where her battered pilot was warily circling his new opponent.

"Tom, please," Kathryn begged. "Stop. Stop now. We were wrong. *I* was wrong. You don't have to prove yourself to me any more. I believe, Tom. I don't understand, not really, but that doesn't matter. You've proven your point. I'm sorry. Please Tom, I was wrong and I'm sorry."

It took a few minutes for the words to sink into Tom's befuddled brain. He staggered around to face her, swaying on his feet.

"Captain?" he croaked.

She walked towards him, opening her arms to grasp him by the shoulders.

"Forgive me, Tom," she pleaded. "Come home to Voyager where you belong."

Tom blinked at her uncertainly, his blood-shot eyes too unfocused for him to recognize more than the blur of her chestnut hair.

"Me AND Chakotay?" he asked.

"Both of you," she promised. "I lost sight of what was important, Tom. You're right. I should accept you for what you are, not try and change you to what I think you should be. I've been so busy trying to do the right thing that I couldn't see how badly I was harming you."

"You just wanted to look after me," Tom whispered. "I know that. I know you didn't want to hurt me. But you did."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"If we come back to Voyager, what happens to us?"

"Nothing. I butt out of your personal life for good," Kathryn promised. "But I'll still kick your ass if you ever do anything this stupid again. Just look at the state of you."

"I'm serious about the Aktar," he warned her. "It's not a game. It's real. I belong to him, Captain. I *want* to belong to him."

"It's patently obvious how serious you are, Tom," she replied. "I can read it in every bruise. I'll respect your choice, Tom. There's not an officer in this room who hasn't learned to respect you today. But I can't promise you won't suffer some problems with the crewmembers over this choice. Just know I'll support you from now on. Both of you."

"That won't be an issue," Tom whispered. "Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" she asked. Then she looked with concern at the way Tom's face drained of color. "CHAKOTAY!" she roared.

Chakotay leapt to his feet and raced over, just in time to catch Tom as he fainted.

"The challenge is over," he growled at the Carskoni who had been waiting to fight Tom, "unless you want to take it up with ME now!"

The Carskoni looked at his flashing eyes and furious face and began to back away.

"The ceremony of Aktar is complete," Gaskar declared, adding his glare to Chakotay's in case there were any last minute dissenters. "I declare the warrior Chakotay to be the Master of the noble warrior Aktari Tom Paris."

A loud rumble of approval filled the room, and to Chakotay's surprise he heard an answering wave of rapturous applause from the away team.

"Katherine?" he asked cautiously.

She shrugged.

"Who would dare make a stand against this?" she asked, gesturing around the room. "I might be arrogant, Chakotay, but I'm not completely stupid. Tom's earned the right to make his own decisions. He's made it clear that whether I consider his choice a mistake or not, I don't have the right to interfere."

"Do you?" Chakotay asked.

"Think he's making a mistake?"

Chakotay nodded.

She looked at the way Chakotay was cradling the unconscious body of his battered lover and sighed.

"Not any more," she admitted, then gave a sheepish smile. "But even if he is, I've finally accepted that it's his mistake to make."

Chakotay managed to find a small smile for her. Unlike Tom he wouldn't instantly forgive her, but in his heart he knew her interference had always been prompted by genuine concern for Tom's welfare and it was impossible to be angry about that.

"But if you *do* ever hurt him, I'll kill you," she muttered under her breath.

And oddly enough, it was that comment that broke through Chakotay's last doubts about returning.

"If I hurt him, I'll help you hide my body," he replied.

"No need, I'll just throw you out of an airlock," she snorted.

"I heard that," Tom whispered, although he was too tired to open his eyes.

Katherine and Chakotay exchanged a worried glance, concerned their awkward teasing had been misinterpreted.

"How are you feeling, babe?" Chakotay asked softly.

"Like I lost an argument with a photon torpedo," Tom muttered.

"You'd better transport him directly to sickbay," Kathryn said, relieved Tom was awake but still concerned about the possibility of concussion.

"Not yet, I've got to speak to Skani," Tom insisted, although when he struggled to open his one unswollen eye he winced in obvious pain.

"We can come back *after* the Doctor's seen you, " Chakotay insisted.

"No, too important," Tom argued. "Gotta ask about the conduit."

"Do you want a swollen ass to go with that eye?" Chakotay growled warningly.

"What conduit?" Katherine demanded, too excited to even react to Chakotay's comment.

"The transwarp conduit," Tom whispered, "The way home."

~#~#~#~#~#~

"OWCH!"

"I warned you," Chakotay said placidly, as he laid a second palm print on the pale skin of Tom's buttocks.

"But...but..."

"But nothing. You heard the Doctor. He said another half-hour and you could have ended up in a coma."

"Ow...that really HURTS," Tom protested, squirming as Chakotay continued to spank him.

"It's supposed to," Chakotay replied. "That's why it's called punishment."

He gave two more firm slaps, then changed his smacks to a lighter flurry of taps that made Tom wriggle and writhe on his lap.

"But I found a way home, Chak," Tom wheedled. "It's not fair to punish me for that."

"I know you did, Tom," Chakotay answered, moving his hand down to spread the rosy pink blush onto the back of Tom's thighs.

"So why are you still spanking me?" Tom wailed.

Chakotay squeezed his own thighs tight against Tom's almost painfully stiff erection.

" 'Cos you like it," he purred.

Since Tom had suggestively opened his legs wider to allow Chakotay's hand to slap the inside of his inner thighs, he realized there was no point continuing his charade of outrage.

"I know what I *would* like," he said suggestively, then arched his back with pleasure as one of Chakotay's smacks caught the back of his scrotum.

"Is that good?" Chakotay asked, adjusting Tom's body so that he had better access.

"Oh shit, yeah," Tom exclaimed.

He was Aktari now, Chakotay's Aktari. He didn't need to pretend. He didn't need to deny what he wanted, what they both wanted. He'd fought for the right to allow himself the freedom to accept his own desires. Perhaps it would take time before he was fully comfortable in expressing what he wanted from Chakotay, but this was a start. A good start.

He wriggled his flaming ass in Chakotay's face.

"You missed a bit," he complained.

Chakotay looked blankly at the even rosy glow.

"Where?" he asked.

"The bit inside. It's still cold, Chak. Aren't you going to warm me up there too?"

Chakotay's answer was to slip a lubricated finger inside the purportedly cold place.

"Feels pretty hot in there to me, Tom," he grinned, pressing a second finger alongside the first and delving until Tom leapt and squealed as Chakotay brushed his prostate.

"Oh god," Tom sighed happily, as Chakotay's fingers began the slow ritual of stretching that would drive Tom half out of his mind before Chakotay felt confident enough to actually fuck him.

"Engineering," Chakotay said suddenly, as Tom arched and writhed like a snake on his lap.

"Huh?" Tom gasped, between his ecstatic moans.

"I just realized, Engineering's directly underneath us and absolutely everyone is in there watching the new drive being fitted. Since I'm planning to drive you through the mattress, Tom, I was wondering whether they'll hear me make this bed buck like a bronco."

Tom just gave a strangled laugh, too excited by the thought to give a coherent reply.

"You ready?" Chakotay asked, but he didn't wait for an answer, he just picked Tom up by the waist and folded him so that his head and chest were on the mattress and his ass was high in the air.

"Oh Shit," Tom gasped, as he felt Chakotay's huge cock press insistently against his pucker. As always it seemed impossible that it could fit inside him yet, as soon as he felt the velvet smooth skin start to breach him, he thrust back greedily to devour Chakotay's offering.

Chakotay grabbed Tom's hips and steadied them, forcing Tom to allow him to enter at his own far more cautious pace. No matter how often Tom's body opened to accept him, he never allowed his own excitement to put Tom at risk. He didn't mind Tom's desire to be taken roughly, he just liked to make sure Tom was safely prepared before he gave in to his own urge to give Tom what he wanted.

So he ignored Tom's moans of protest as he eased himself into the tight, delicious heat of Tom's body and luxuriated in the almost painful pleasure of feeling every inch of his cock being welcomed and embraced as the walls of Tom's passage surrendered to his entry. Only when he was buried so deep that his balls were pressed snugly against Tom's own scrotum, and Tom's moans had become pathetic whimpers of need, did he finally begin to rock his hips back and forth.

"Oh yeah, yeah," Tom gasped, as Chakotay's cock slid over his prostate sending needles of white-hot fire through his entire nervous system. "Harder, please. Fuck me hard."

"Is that what you really want?" Chakotay teased, still continuing his slow maddening thrusts.

"Oh god, yes...YES," Tom screamed, "Please Chak. I need it. I need to feel you, really feel you, inside me. Please."

"Then ask me nicely," Chakotay purred.

"Please...Master," Tom wailed.

And with a broad smile, Chakotay proceeded to give Tom what they both could finally admit they wanted.

The End.