Spirit of the Earth, Spirit of the Sky

Chakotay pressed Tom's chime repeatedly but received no answer. 

At first, Tom's failure to open the door didn't worry him. It was late enough that anyone on Alpha Shift could reasonably be expected to be already in bed, so he allowed time for Tom to wake, rise, dress and open the door. It was only as the minutes ticked past that the urgency with which he had raced to Tom's quarters began to turn into confusion, then gradually into irritation. The longer he stood ignored in the corridor outside Tom's door, all too aware that at any moment someone might walk past and see him trying to enter the pilot's quarters, the more time he had to develop cold feet over the impulse that had sent him barreling there in the first place. 

It was so late he couldn't imagine Tom being anywhere *except* his quarters. A couple of years previously he would have looked for Tom in the holodec at this time of night, expecting him to be hanging out with the bar-flies until the last possible moment. But, of late, Tom's evening excursions rarely extended further than a couple of drinks and a game of pool or two with Harry if Tom had duty the next day. Chakotay alternated between believing it was a sign Tom was maturing and the less charitable belief that Tom now thought it was beneath him as a Senior Officer to mingle with the lower decks.

Then he decided maybe the leopard hadn't truly changed his spots or, even more likely, Tom was spending the night in some *other* quarters. He was surprised by the wave of jealousy that accompanied that thought. He could feel the blood beginning to race in his veins, felt the pulse of an impending headache at his temples and, although he knew he was being unfair, he was angry that Tom had obviously taken his latest rejection seriously enough to move on to pastures new.

He turned, began to stomp down the corridor towards the turbo lift, then halted mid-step as enough sense returned for him to query the computer as to Tom's whereabouts.

"Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters," the computer replied chirpily.

Feeling a little ashamed of himself for his assumptions, Chakotay returned to Tom's door and sounded the chime again but was still greeted by silence within.

He began to grow seriously concerned. Since Tom had no way of knowing *who* was at his door, Chakotay became more worried about Tom's safety than any perceived slight to himself. Surely even Tom couldn't sleep through the amount of noise he was making. What if he'd had an accident in his quarters? Chakotay contemplated using his command-overrides, then decided he was probably over-reacting. Besides, if Tom *was* just deeply asleep or perhaps even in the shower, his own intrusion could be perceived as an abuse of his rank.

Could be? Hell, Tom could have him on charges so quickly his feet wouldn't touch the ground en route to the brig. But he couldn't just leave. Now the possibility had occurred to him that Tom might be hurt, no matter how unlikely it was to be true, Chakotay *had* to know the reason Tom wasn't answering his door. He'd lie awake all night worrying now unless he *knew* Tom was okay.

He slammed his palm against his comm. badge.

"Chakotay to Paris," he snapped.

"Commander?" Tom replied immediately.

Chakotay blinked in confusion, so surprised to hear Tom's voice that he momentarily struggled for words.

"Commander?" Tom repeated, a little irritably this time.

"Are you alright, Tom?" he asked cautiously.

There was a silence, then Tom replied in a puzzled tone.

"I'm fine. Why?"

"Because I'm standing outside your quarters developing cramp in my index finger."

He heard a muffled curse then, in a deceptively cheerful voice, Tom replied,

"I thought you were Harry," as though that explained everything.

"I'm not," Chakotay stated, unnecessarily.

"Oh."

Chakotay waited in vain for the door to open or at least an additional comment. He gradually realized neither was forthcoming and his mild confused irritation began to transform back into anger at what he perceived to be no more than childish rudeness on Tom's part. 

"Are you going to open the door?" he demanded.

"No," Tom replied bluntly.

"No?"  

Then, as though some measure of Chakotay's annoyance had finally penetrated his brain, Tom mumbled, "Um...I'm not dressed."

Chakotay digested that, found it a reasonable comment, and merely replied, "I'll wait."

There was a long silence, then Tom said, "I...um...I was just going to bed. It's late."

"It won't take a moment."

"I...um...I could come see you in the morning," Tom suggested.

Chakotay's patience finally snapped. He looked up and down the corridor to check no one would witness his outburst, then let rip.

"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

There was a stunned silence, then a sigh of obvious defeat. Chakotay heard the door mechanism engage and prepared to step forward. Instead, as the door slid open, he found Tom's lanky frame planted firmly in the entrance, blocking his vision of the room within.

"I thought you said you weren't dressed," he pointed out dryly.

"I...um...said I was getting undressed," Tom corrected him quickly.

"May I come in?"

"Is this official business?" Tom demanded.

"No," Chakotay admitted.

"Then no," Tom replied firmly.

"Look, I just want to talk to you and I'd rather not do it in the corridor. Just let me in for a few minutes?" Chakotay pleaded, with a sheepish smile for his earlier irritability.

Tom shook his head.

"I know it's late, and you're angry with me, Tom, but it's never a good idea to let things fester, is it?" he cajoled. "All I'm asking is a couple of minutes to clear the air between us. I'm sure we'll both sleep better for it."

"I'm not angry with you, Commander. Honest. I'm just tired. I want to go to bed. Can we discuss this tomorrow?"

Chakotay had to admit to himself that Tom's attitude, while strange, didn't seem born of anger as much as of a determination not to let Chakotay inside his quarters. He began to feel slightly sick as the most obvious reason for Tom's caginess finally occurred to him.

"Do you have company?" Chakotay asked, attempting to crane his head around Tom's shoulder.

 Tom shifted to block his vision.

"What if I do?" Tom challenged.

Chakotay felt his heart plummet. He was obviously too late. He'd turned Tom down and, as usual, Tom had just moved to the next-in-line. It was no wonder Tom had hesitated about opening the door. He wondered who *was* in Tom's room, but stifled the thought quickly. It didn't matter who it was, after all. Just that fact that there was *someone* proved that B'Elanna had been wrong. Tom's interest in him had been no more than a transitory attraction that had all too easily replaced. 

"I'm sorry I disturbed you, Lieutenant," he said stiffly.

"S'okay," Tom replied coldly, stepping back to let the door close.

Since Chakotay didn't know he was going to do it himself, until the opportunity presented itself, his sudden movement caught Tom completely unprepared. The moment Tom stepped backwards, Chakotay slipped through the gap into Tom's quarters. 

Then he froze in shocked horror.

He didn't know who or what he'd expected to find. Seven, maybe, or even the Captain herself since neither women had ever made a secret of their attraction towards the pilot. Even finding Tuvok sprawled on Tom's couch wouldn't have shocked him as much as the sight that met his eyes.

Instead of entering a love-nest, Chakotay walked in on a room that looked like it had suffered a direct torpedo-strike.

"What the hell's happened here?" he demanded. "Who did this, Tom?"

And his other, thankfully unspoken, question was 'What did you do to piss someone off *this* time?'

"I did," Tom muttered, a dark blush rising over his pale features.

"What?" Chakotay asked, looking around the room in disbelief.

"I did it. Okay?"

"Not okay," Chakotay replied worriedly. "Why did you do it?" he asked, careful to keep any note of censure from his voice.

"I fell over," Tom quipped.

"How many times?" Chakotay demanded sarcastically, his concern momentarily overshadowed by annoyance at Tom's flippancy.

"Look, I had a bad day. I took it out on my room."

"Evidently," Chakotay agreed. He hadn't seen so much localized destruction since the Cardassian occupation.

"I'll clear it up."

"You'll have to if you ever want to take your shoes off again. The floor's covered in glass."

"It looks worse than it is," Tom replied defensively. 

"I'm more concerned about why you did it than the damage itself, Tom."

"I decided it was time to re-decorate," Tom muttered, kicking the debris impatiently.

"Tom..."

"Look, just charge me with whatever regulations I've broken, Commander," Tom demanded coldly.

Chakotay rubbed his face wearily.  

"Charge you? Spirits, Tom. I'm far more concerned about *why* you've trashed your room than in putting you on report for it. You can make all the jokes about it that you want but I'm not going to bite. Nobody does something like this unless they're really hurting. That's what worries me, Tom. Not what you've done, but *why* you did it."

"Oh yeah, but you seem to be forgetting something. Your counseling hours are between 1000 and 1400," Tom replied bitterly.

Chakotay flushed and looked around the room to compose himself.

"What's this?" Chakotay asked, carefully crossing the glass-strewn carpet and reaching down to pick up a shattered circle of willow. The broken wood was held together by a tangle of knotted string and several eagle feathers. "A dream catcher?"

"So?" Tom snapped and turned away, his shoulders stiff.

"Where did you get it?" Chakotay asked.

"B'Elanna," Tom muttered.

"B'Elanna gave you this?"

"So?" Tom repeated.

"So, why did you smash it?"

Tom just shrugged and spread his arms to draw attention to all the other broken items in the room. The smashed photo frames, the battered cases of strewn data padds, and the debris of all the various souvenirs Tom had collected during their years in the Delta Quadrant. Except for the spartan official furnishings of his quarters, not one item remained undamaged by Tom's self-confessed temper tantrum.

"Like I said, I decided to re-decorate," Tom said, with a droll smile. He just shrugged at Chakotay's expression of disbelief. "At least it will be easier to recycle everything now."

"Why?" Chakotay demanded, waving the broken dream-catcher in Tom's face.

"Out with the old. In with the new. Consider it a Tom Paris form of making a fresh start," Tom replied with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

Chakotay sighed and carefully sat down on the sofa.

"We need to talk, Tom."

"No we don't, *Commander*," Tom replied bitterly. 

"Tom, it's gone 2300 and I came to your quarters as a friend. Why not call me Chakotay?"

"I told you I didn't need any more *friends*. If you were my *friend* you wouldn't have forced your way into my quarters, would you?"

"Actually I think that's exactly what a friend would do under the circumstances, Tom. You're obviously upset and I suspect it's my fault. Give me a chance to put things right. Please?"

"I don't want anything from you, Commander, except for you to leave," Tom stated, his face expressionless.

"You said you wanted 'all or nothing'," Chakotay reminded him. "What if I said I'd decided I'd prefer the 'all'?"

Tom reached forward and snatched the broken dream-catcher out of Chakotay's hands.

"I'd say you were too late, Commander," he said, his voice as cold as his icy eyes.

"Really?" Chakotay asked softly. "I'd have thought, after you'd wanted it for so long, you'd at least give me a chance to make things right between us."

Then he regretted his choice of words as Tom flinched violently, as though he'd been slapped by Chakotay's comment.

"Get over yourself, Chakotay. I never wanted anything from you except a fuck, and now I don't even want that."

"I don't believe you."

"So?" Tom hissed. "What's new?"

"I didn't come here to fight, Tom. I came here to apologize. I took a long hard look at myself tonight and realized *why* I've always kept you at arm's length. It wasn't because I didn't like you. It was because I liked you too much. I...I thought you just wanted...hell, I don't know *what* I thought you wanted...But I never imagined you were serious. I'm sorry. I never gave you a chance. I just assumed the worst."

"Like I said. What's new?" Tom replied bitterly, his eyes dark with remembered hurts.

"But I also realized that no matter how brutally I turned your offers of friendship down, you always eventually forgave me and tried again. So...so, I suppose I came here in the hope that you'd give me another chance."

"Why should I?"

"No reason. But then you've never needed a reason before, either. So, what do you have to lose?"

Tom laughed. "I can see why you'd imagine I lost touch with my self-respect years ago, but even *I* have a line I won't cross. Sure, it's taken me a hell of a long time to reach it, but it's there."

"Tom..."

"See this?" Tom asked, brandishing the dream-catcher in Chakotay's face like an accusation.  "It's crap. Just like every other line of crap I've ever bought. Well, no more. I've grown up, Chakotay. I've finally faced the truth. There's no spirit world, no fate, no magic wand to put my life right. There's nothing to any of our shitty lives except the choices we make and their consequences. There's no escaping the lives we make for ourselves. Take this..this *shit*. It's supposed to stop bad dreams, supposed to catch the nightmares, but it doesn't because the nightmares I have are in *me*. When I sleep badly, it's not because those dreams are coming into my head. They're already there.

"And if I ever thought I *could* leave my past behind and start again, all I needed to do was look in *your* face, Chakotay. Because, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, people like you are never gonna let me forget the past. It's like I'm walking around dragging some fucking great sign over my head that says 'he fucked up before so he'll fuck up again'. It's kind of hard to get past that kind of prejudice."

"That's not how I see you, Tom."

"Isn't it?" Tom challenged. "You wanna name *one* time you've ever given me the benefit of the doubt about anything?"

Chakotay was sure there were lots of times, he just couldn't think of one on the spur of the moment. He bit his lower lip and Tom gave a bitter laugh.

"See? It's okay. I don't blame you. I know it's my own fault. I just...shit, it's just hard to walk out of my quarters every morning and know no matter what I do, or how hard I try, I'm never going to be taken seriously."

"I'm sorry," Chakotay whispered. "I never tried to put myself in your shoes. You're right. I did allow my initial perception of you to cloud the way I judged every subsequent action."

"Why wouldn't you?" Tom asked blithely. "Practically everyone else did too. You're in good company. Except for Harry, B'Elanna and the Captain, no-one gave me a chance."

"I agree that was true at first, but not any more. You're a respected member of the crew, Tom. Even Tuvok praises you constantly," Chakotay pointed out.

Tom smirked.

"Yeah. Never thought I'd be glad to be charged with murder."

Chakotay stared at him in confusion, then it dawned on him. The mind meld. Of course, *that* was when Tuvok's attitude to Tom had started to change, when he'd had the opportunity to see beneath Tom's exterior to the real man within. Spirits, he cursed. Why the hell hadn't *he* seen that connection before? Why hadn't it occurred to him that Tuvok's opinion of Tom Paris was far more likely to be valid than his own? Yet, he'd never been *unfair* to Tom himself, had he? He'd always made every effort to treat Tom with an impersonal objectivity. He'd never allowed either his dislike of Tom's personality *or* his attraction towards Tom's body to sway his judgment.

"I've always treated you fairly," he announced.

Tom shrugged.

"I know. I appreciate it, Commander. I'm well aware that you have never let your dislike of me affect our professional relationship."

Chakotay flinched. Put that bluntly, Tom's honest comment hurt like hell.

"It wasn't *just* dislike," he admitted. "It was..."

"Oh spare me," Tom interrupted. "I don't need the vivid details of exactly how low your opinion of me is."

"Please, Tom. Let me explain. You're right in a way. I *did* hold on to my dislike and distrust of you long after I'd learnt to respect you in a professional way. But that was *my* failing, not yours. It was because I was afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Afraid of allowing myself to accept how I really felt about you."

"Which was?" Tom challenged.

Chakotay took a deep breath, grabbed every ounce of his courage and finally told Tom the truth.

"From the first moment I set eyes on you, I found you almost irresistibly attractive," Chakotay admitted. "You're just about the most beautiful man I've ever set eyes on."

"Damn you," Tom snarled. "How fucking dare you?"

"What?" Chakotay asked, stunned by Tom's angry reaction to his confession.

"You sit here and...and tell me that you *wanted* me but that you kept away because I was such a shitty person?"

"What? No, I..."

"You explain it then. You're telling me you used the fact you didn't like me as some kind of cold-shower whenever you fancied my ass? Well, fuck you."

"It wasn't like that," Chakotay protested desperately.

"Wasn't it? Why not explain it to me then?" Tom challenged.

"I...I don't know what to say, Tom. You make it sound so...so cold and calculating but it wasn't like that at all. It was more like you'd walk into a room and my blood would start to race and I kept telling myself it was because I hated you, only it wasn't hate. You made me feel so out of control that I found it easier to tell myself it was hatred because I was frightened of the alternative. I...I didn't want to fall in love with you. I was terrified of falling in love with the *wrong* person."

"And you couldn't get more wrong than Tom Paris, murderer, traitor and all-round fuck-up?"

"No, that's not it. It wasn't *you*, Tom. It was me. My perceptions of who I *should* fall in love with. It's...it's a spiritual thing. When I was young I turned my back on my people's beliefs but...after my father died, I ..," Chakotay paused and rubbed the tattoo on his forehead, "I needed the strength of those beliefs again. I needed to be the person my father always wanted me to be and part of that meant embracing my people's attitudes towards relationships. We believe that a permanent relationship needs more than sexual attraction or even a meeting of minds, it has to be a blending of spirits too. *That's* why I fought my attraction towards you, Tom. Because I was so sure you weren't my spirit-mate and I knew that if I touched you I'd never be able to let you go again."

Something gave in Tom's face at Chakotay's explanation, an expression of such bitter sorrow that Chakotay felt an answering dart of pain in his chest.  

"It's funny," Tom laughed, the sound so sorrowful that Chakotay's eyes blurred. "I kind of convinced myself that was the reason. At that stage I was ready to clutch at any straw just to break through to you. B'Elanna told me that *everyone* has a spirit guide, even a fuck-up like me. So I tell myself that it's worth a shot. I grab at the idea like its going to be some answer, some last-ditch attempt to make you see *inside* me. Only, it turns out I'm just looking for another way to run away from myself."

"What do you mean?" Chakotay asked gently.

"You've said it yourself enough times. When the going gets tough, Tom Paris just  runs away. You know what's really pathetic about all this? I went looking for my spirit guide because of you. It didn't matter what I did, what I said, every time you looked at me I *knew* all you saw was some fuck-up. You seemed to be big on people taking responsibility, so I threw myself into my job but instead of being impressed, you just started looking for my 'angle'. Then I figured it was the way I acted off duty, so I stopped wildcatting around, stopped propping up the bar in Sandrine's, stopped mixing with the crewmembers. What do you do? You take me aside and tell me I'm developing an 'attitude'.

"So then I decide the best way to show you how much I've changed is have a steady relationship with *someone*, just to prove I *can* do it. So I get B'Elanna to agree to go steady with me just until you realized I *could* be faithful to someone. Next thing I know, you've got me pinned against a wall, telling me if I break her heart you're going to break my face. So then B'Elanna and I spent three months trying to find a way to split up again without you having an excuse to space me.

"And then, just when I decide *no-one* is worth this kind of grief, B'El comes up with this spirit guide crap. Tells me the problem is you're a spiritual guy who'd never be interested in anyone as seemingly shallow as me. She reckoned we were meant to be together and if I found my guide I'd be able to convince you I was serious. And the stupid thing is, I really bought into it. Just goes to show how fucking desperate I was feeling, doesn't it?  I bet this gives you a real laugh, huh? I guess, if nothing else, I've entertained you. Tom Paris proves, yet again, that he's just a fucking joke. Well, that's it. Show's over, Commander. You can go to hell as far as I'm concerned."

"Tom, I..."

"Don't bother saying it, Commander. I know. I can't believe I was so fucking delusional as to think this could end any differently. I guess I was just hoping to get out of this with my dignity intact but, what the hell, it's not like you had any good impression of me to be shattered, is it? Just...just leave me alone, would you? You've had your laugh. Now you *really* know how fucking pathetic I am. Just..just leave me alone."

Chakotay stared at Tom in disbelief. His pale cheeks were stained with a dark flush of temper, his blue eyes were bright with unshed tears and his whole body was trembling as though he was trying not to flee the room. Then he noted Tom's clenched fists and wondered whether the pilot was simply struggling with the impulse to hit him. And, in that moment, he felt so guilty that he almost wished Tom *would* strike out at him physically. He'd been so blind. He knew that now. With each word, Tom's verbalization of his pain had driven home to Chakotay just how badly he'd misjudged him. Not once or twice but consistently over a number of years. It didn't surprise him that Tom was so angry, only that Tom had given him so many chances to try and put things right. Chances he'd invariably thrown back in Tom's face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm ashamed of myself."

Instead of agreeing that he should be, Tom's head whipped back in obvious surprise. Then he recovered and gave an insolent shrug.

"Why?"

"Because until today, I had no idea what was really going on in your head, Tom, but I should have. I should have looked. I should have cared enough to at least *try* and understand you. I want to..."

"I don't care what you want. All *I* want is for you to get out of my quarters. Do I have to call security?"

He reached pointedly towards his comm. badge.

"I lied, Tom," Chakotay blurted.

It was enough to make Tom hesitate and Chakotay leapt into the tiny window of opportunity created by Tom's wavering hand.

"I've lied to you about a lot of things. I think I've lied to myself most of all but, worst of all, I lied about my spirit guide."

"You lied?" Tom whispered, his face paling.

"It *is* a snake," Chakotay admitted.

He gave Tom a sheepish, apologetic smile. He didn't know what he expected Tom's reaction to be, although he had a half-formed fantasy that Tom's face would split into a huge smile of relief and that he'd be bowled over by an armful of lanky, blond forgiving pilot.

Instead, Tom's face contorted with fury.

"You BASTARD!" he howled, and punched Chakotay in the face.

Go to Part Three