Spirit of the Earth, Spirit of the Sky

When Chakotay woke up, he was lying in sickbay and someone was passing a dermal regenerator over the impressive ache in his jaw. His head was throbbing and he had to squint to open his eyes against the painful brightness of the room. Mentally, he added 'surprisingly impressive right hook' to his list of new discoveries about Tom.

"Tom?" he groaned questioningly.

"Lieutenant Paris is in the brig," a dispassionate voice replied.

Chakotay's eyes snapped fully open at the anomalous voice.

"Tuvok?"

The Vulcan raised his eyebrows in sardonic acknowledgement of his identity and continued to repair Chakotay's bruised face.

"Where's the Doctor?"

"I de-activated him," Tuvok replied. "I was uncertain whether you would wish there to be a permanent record of your visit here."

"Thanks," Chakotay sighed gratefully. "What time is it?"

"0400. You have been unconscious for just over four hours."

"That must have been one hell of a punch," Chakotay commented.

"Indeed."

Chakotay frowned. "You said Tom was in the brig."

Tuvok nodded. "That is correct."

"So what's the point of this?"

Tuvok gave a tiny shrug.

"At the moment, no charges have been filed against Lieutenant Paris. If you choose not to take this incident any further, it is prudent not to leave any incriminating evidence in Sickbay."

Chakotay blinked in astonishment.

"Are you seriously suggesting that I should conceal a crime?" he asked cautiously, although he had absolutely no intention of filing charges against Tom. As far as he could see, Tom had shown remarkable restraint under the circumstances. Having felled him with a single blow, Chakotay was grateful the younger man hadn't taken the opportunity of his falling over to plant a kick or two into his ribs for good measure. With that thought, he carefully inched his fingers over his rib-cage to check for injuries. 

Nothing. Presumably Tom had just hit him once, then had panicked when he'd failed to wake up. He must have called Security and turned himself in. 

"You are correct that striking a superior officer is an offence," Tuvok replied. "However, charging the Lieutenant would lead to questions as to why that superior officer was in his quarters at midnight. It would be the Lieutenant's right to have a legal defender and that person would undoubtedly raise questions as to *why* the Lieutenant felt compelled to strike you."

"Would he?" 

"*I* would," Tuvok replied meaningfully.

Chakotay chuckled, rubbing his jaw ruefully.

"I am assuming that Tom told you *why* he hit me."

"He did not need to," Tuvok replied quietly. "I anticipated the probability of this outcome should you ever face up to the reasons for your own behavior. Lieutenant Torres advised me of your intention to visit Mr. Paris last night. Consequently I ensured that I was manning the Security post."

"I see," Chakotay said thoughtfully.

"Do you, Commander?"

"How well do you know Tom?" Chakotay asked.

Tuvok frowned.

"Please," Chakotay urged. "I'm not trying to avoid your question, I just need to know what you already understand."

"The Lieutenant is a greatly misunderstood young man," Tuvok announced. "While I often find his train of thought to be illogical and his behavior to be foolishly reckless, underneath that exterior he has great strength of character. His actions are invariably driven by a genuine urge to help other people. On several occasions he has risked his life for the safety of this crew. Although his attitude is often irreverent and a source of irritation, his behavior is primarily motivated by a desire to be accepted by his peers since he has lost faith in his ability to be accepted by yourself."

"He loves me," Chakotay replied sadly. "I never realized."

"Evidently," Tuvok replied dryly.

"It only struck me last night, just before *he* struck me," Chakotay said, with a regretful laugh. "It changes everything. My memories, my perceptions of him, they've all changed."

"Because you now see every action on his part through a new perspective."

"Exactly. It's like I've seen Tom through a filter for all these years and now that it's gone, I can see clearly and I'm finding myself re-interpreting every interaction, every conversation, we've ever had and seeing it in a new way."

"In my experience, humans have a remarkable capacity for seeing only what they choose to see, rather than that which is truly there," Tuvok commented.

Chakotay nodded glumly.

"I'm too late, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Tuvok asked.

"I really hurt him last night. I tried to explain *why* I'd been so distrustful of him and all I did was make things worse. Everything I said, every excuse I gave, just seemed to twist the knife in deeper. I'm not surprised he hit me. I'm just amazed he was satisfied with one punch."

Tuvok stiffened slightly and his eyes darkened.

"Again, it is evident to me that you have no understanding of the Lieutenant if you believe him capable of striking an unconscious man."

Chakotay flushed.

"You're right. Tom wouldn't have done it. I suppose I just wish that he had. I deserved it and one punch seems very little recompense for all the misery he's suffered because of me. If hitting me made him feel better, I don't begrudge him the satisfaction and I certainly don't want him charged with assaulting me."

Tuvok nodded.

"I will return to the brig and release Mr. Paris."

"Thank you."

Tuvok walked to the door, then paused and turned back.

"I feel I should correct one more assumption on your behalf, Commander," he commented.

"What assumption?"

"That the Lieutenant gained any satisfaction from hitting you. On the contrary, his reaction to the experience was most enlightening."

"What was his reaction?" Chakotay pleaded.

"When the Lieutenant called security to report what he had done, he was crying," Tuvok announced.

Chakotay buried his face in his hands, as Tuvok's comment made his guts twist and his eyes water. 

"What am I going to do?" he pleaded.

To his surprise, Tuvok moved back into the room and sat down on the bio-bed opposite.

"What do you wish to do?"

"Put things right. Mend what I've broken. Take away the pain I've caused. I…I just want to make Tom happy again."

"Do you love him?" Tuvok asked.

Chakotay looked at the Vulcan in astonishment. There was nothing judgmental in Tuvok's bland expression, just polite interest.

"I…I don't know," Chakotay admitted. "I don't *think* so. I'm…" he blushed furiously, "I'm very attracted to him physically and I realized last night that I really care about him too. It hurts me that I've caused him pain and I'd do anything to put that right. But…but I don't know if the feeling is love. Maybe it's just that I'm feeling guilty enough to find excuses to stop fighting my lust."

"There are many definitions of love," Tuvok pointed out. 

"I know," Chakotay agreed, then he laughed ruefully.

"What is the source of your amusement?"

"You. Us. This conversation. I'm supposed to be a counselor, yet I'm sitting here with absolutely no idea of whether I'm falling in love with Tom or simply trying to find the self-justification to scratch an old itch. "

Tuvok acknowledged the point with a small nod.

"Indeed, however I believe there is an old human saying that a man who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client."

"There's another saying, 'physician heal thyself'."

Tuvok shrugged. "Contradiction seems to be a natural human trait. Perhaps you should attempt to approach your relationship with Mr. Paris from a less physical perspective."

"Did Tom tell you about his spirit quest?"

"Unfortunately, although the Lieutenant has developed some measure of trust towards me he does not confide in me," Tuvok replied. "However, Lieutenant Torres explained the significance of your spirit guides."

"It seems to me that you and B'Elanna had quite a cozy little chat about me last night," Chakotay growled.

"Indeed," Tuvok replied blandly.

Chakotay sulked for a moment, then sighed heavily. "Okay, what did she tell you?"

"That since your main objection to a relationship with Mr. Paris was based upon an assumed spiritual incompatibility, she could now see no impediment to your pursuit of a true relationship with him."

"Except the fact that Tom hates me now."

"Does he?"

Chakotay rubbed his jaw meaningfully.

"Yet, after striking you he cried and reported himself for assault. That is not the reaction of a man who hates," Tuvok pointed out.

Chakotay gave a weak smile.

"When did you get to be such an expert on emotions, Tuvok?"

Tuvok arched an eyebrow.

"It is simply a prudent course of action for a Vulcan attempting to co-exist with creatures as emotional as humans," he replied, his mouth twitching slightly as though he was struggling to hide a smile.

"What should I do?"

"The logical response to this situation would be for you to send the Lieutenant a sincere apology for your previous behavior, making the point that you do not blame him for his actions in striking you, then take the time to seriously consider your own feelings before approaching him since it would be unfair to offer him hope where hope may not exist.

"However, since you are both human, I suggest you ignore logic. While I release Mr. Paris, arrange for both of you to be relieved of duty today, then return to his quarters and continue your earlier conversation. It may, of course, be prudent to take a regenerator with you."

~#~#~#~

"What do you want?" Tom snapped, although his eyes slid guiltily from the pink stain of regenerated skin on Chakotay's jaw.

"To talk," Chakotay replied softly. "May I come in?"

Tom shrugged.

"Feel free. Make yourself at home," he said sarcastically, stepping back to allow Chakotay inside.

"You haven't cleared up yet," Chakotay said.

"No shit," Tom growled. "I was otherwise occupied."

"Can I help you?" Chakotay asked, as he saw Tom squat down and begin to gather up some of the scattered debris from the carpet.

Tom just shook his head.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"I'll bet," Tom muttered, sparing a quick glance at Chakotay's face. 

Chakotay rubbed his jaw self-consciously.

"I don't mean this, I mean about upsetting you."

"What do you care?"

"I do, Tom. Care I mean."

Tom shrugged.

"Of course you do. You're the First Officer. It's your *job* to care about the crew."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Whatever impression I've given you, and I'm the first to admit it's probably not a good one, I really am worried about you, Tom. I would never consciously hurt another person, let alone to the extent that I've obviously upset you. Will you please give me a chance to try and make things right between us?" 

"You're suddenly real big on this talking crap, aren't you?" Tom demanded bitterly. "All these years I've spent trying to get you to exchange more than two words with me and suddenly you've gotten verbal diarrhea and I can't get rid of you."

Chakotay bit his lower lip, squatted down on his haunches and began to carefully pick up the debris at his feet.

"Leave it alone," Tom snapped. "I've got it."

"I want to help," Chakotay replied quietly. "It's my fault, so I get to help you clean up."

For a moment Tom continued to glare at him, but then the fire in his eyes dimmed to a weary sadness and he just shrugged.

"Whatever," he muttered ungraciously.

For several minutes they didn't speak, the room was silent except for the sounds of glass being swept up. It was only when Chakotay rose and stepped carefully over to the recycler, with his hands full of glass-shards, that Tom spoke.

"I'm sorry I hit you," he mumbled.

"I know," Chakotay replied, past the lump that had risen in his throat at Tom's awkward apology. "I'm sorry I upset you so much that you felt you had to do it."

Hope surged in his heart. Despite Tom's coldness it was obvious that he wanted to make things right between them, that he wanted to give Chakotay a chance. Then that hope died with Tom's next words.

"Thanks for not charging me," Tom added. "I didn't need that kind of shit on my record."

That's when he realized that Tom hadn't let him in out of any desire to forgive him, just simply out of fear that he might change his mind about reporting the 'assault'. 

"I'm sorry about last night. I was trying to apologize and instead I just made you feel worse, didn't I?"

"What do you think?" Tom snapped. "You obviously have some fucked-up idea that I have a teflon-coated ego."

"Teflon?"

"Never mind."

"If you mean I had the impression that you just bounced back after any assault on your pride, you're right. You're so good at creating an illusion of being untouchable that it's hard to see your vulnerability," Chakotay said apologetically.

"It's hard to see *anything* if you don't bother looking," Tom replied.

Chakotay nodded.

"You're right and I'm sorry."

"I am so sick of you saying that," Tom hissed. "What the fuck use is *sorry*? It's just a word. Words don't change anything, do they?"

"No," Chakotay agreed. "Still, the more I think about it, the more I'm beginning to believe that you never actually wanted me to apologize anyway."

"What?"

"When I was a boy, before my grandfather's madness came fully upon him, I used to spend many evenings listening to him telling me tales of my people. Most of the lessons he taught me were in the form of parables. I suppose, because of the oral traditions of my people, it made sense to teach lessons in that fashion. I learnt a lot as I sat on my grandfather's lap."

"Is there a point you're trying to make?" Tom demanded rudely.

"There's a story I want to tell you, a story my grandfather told me."

Tom rolled his eyes impatiently, then shrugged in careless acquiescence.

"Go ahead, knock yourself out."

Chakotay ignored the younger man's aggression and sat down on Tom's couch.

"Are you going to sit down?"

"If you prefer," Chakotay replied, with a grin. 

Tom's face twisted with anger. 

"I'll stand." 

Chakotay just nodded and began his tale.

"There was a little boy who was walking down a path and he came across a rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was getting old. He asked, "Please little boy, can you take me to the top of the mountain? I hope to see the sunset one last time before I die." The little boy answered "No Mr. Rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you'll bite me and I'll die." The rattlesnake replied, "No, I promise. I won't bite you. Just please take me up to the mountain." The little boy thought about it and finally picked up that rattlesnake and took it close to his chest and carried it up to the top of the mountain.

"They sat there and watched the sunset together. Then after sunset the rattlesnake turned to the little boy and asked, "Can I go home now? I am tired, and I am old." The little boy picked up the rattlesnake and again took it to his chest and held it tightly and safely. He came all the way down the mountain holding the snake carefully and took it to his home to give him some food and a place to sleep. 

"The next day the rattlesnake turned to the boy and asked, "Please little boy, will you take me back to my home now? It is time for me to leave this world, and I would like to be at my home now." The little boy felt he had been safe all this time and the snake had kept his word, so he would take it home as asked. 

"He carefully picked up the snake, took it close to his chest, and carried him back to the woods, to his home to die. Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. "Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!" 

"The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned, "You knew what I was when you picked me up"."

Tom stared at him in stunned disbelief.

"That's the story you wanted to tell me?"

"Didn't you like it?" 

"What's to like about it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It seemed quite appropriate to me."

"You're a sick man, Chakotay," Tom huffed. "Your idea of an apology sucks."

"I know," Chakotay replied. "I realized that last night. There's nothing I can say to justify myself that doesn't somehow make things worse."

"So you decided not to bother."

"Put it this way, Tom. I've known you, all in all, for what? Eight, nine years? The first time I met you in that bar on Rigel 3, I made my mind up about you and in all the subsequent years, no matter how you've acted, I've never changed the way I deal with you. While I now accept that was a serious error on my part, it got me thinking. What exactly *did* you expect me to say? In all these years of you trying to make me notice you, what were you telling yourself? How were *you* justifying my behavior to yourself? What *were* the magic words you were expecting to hear when I finally wised up to my own stupidity?"

He felt guilty when Toms' face folded into a miserable crumple of obvious confusion, but he knew he'd finally found the only way to get them past all of the lies and misunderstandings. All he could hope now was that Tom was honest enough to accept his point.

"You're saying I knew what you were when I picked you up," Tom acknowledged.

"Didn't you?" Chakotay challenged.

Tom sighed and finally sat down in an untidy sprawl.

"Yeah," he admitted bitterly.

"I know I hurt you last night when I admitted I was attracted to you but didn't particularly like you. I realize that a large part of that dislike has always been based on false assumptions about you, that I've never even tried to give you a chance to prove me wrong. But I've got a question for you, too. Do you like me?"

"What?" Tom demanded incredulously.

"Seriously, Tom. Do you like me? I can't imagine that you do. I've never given you any reason to. You have every right to hate me and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. Yet, you've consistently pursued me regardless. Why?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree," Tom retorted. Then, seeing Chakotay's blank expression he sighed and explained. "You're trying to say that there's no real difference between us, that my interest in you is nothing more than physical too."

"Isn't it?" Chakotay challenged.

"Yeah, that's right," Tom drawled with a shrug.

In the silence that followed, Tom began to fidget uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room as he avoided Chakotay's gaze. Finally, he surged to his feet in temper.

"NO," he yelled. "It's not. I don't care what you think. It's...it's never been about sex."

"So what is it, Tom? What's made you keep coming back to me? Why have you given me so many chances."

Tom mumbled something under his breath.

"I didn't hear you," Chakotay replied gently.

"I said..." again Tom's voice became an unintelligible whisper.

"What?"

Tom spun towards him, his cheeks stained almost scarlet with embarrassment, his eyes wet with humiliated tears.

"I said I love you. Okay? You fucking satisfied now? I don't like you. What's to like? But...but it doesn't help...doesn't stop how I *feel*."

"Tom..."

"You happy now or do you want to rub my nose in it a bit more?  You satisfied now? You want to humiliate me some more or is that enough for you?"

"Tom Paris, you're an amazing person," Chakotay breathed. "I don't think I've ever respected anyone as much as I do you, at this moment."

"You do?" Tom asked, blinking with obvious confusion.

"A long time ago I accused you of running away from problems, but I couldn't have been more wrong, could I? No matter what happens, you always face things head on. No matter how many times you get knocked down you just get right up again and wade back into the fight. And, no matter how much the truth hurts you, you never attempt to avoid it."

"I learnt a long time ago that lies were easier to say than to live with," Tom replied. "It's funny, really. Caldik Prime taught me to tell the truth no matter what the consequences but, at the same time, it meant I'd spend the rest of my life with people assuming I was a liar. Ironic, isn't it?"

"It's not fair," Chakotay agreed.

"Life's not fair," Tom replied, with a careless shrug.

"I want to be equally honest with you, Tom. You deserve that much. I...I don't think I love you."

Tom closed his eyes in pained resignation.

"But I think I *could* learn to, perhaps, if you give me a chance."

Tom gave a low, strangled laugh.

"Learn to? It doesn't work like that. If love could be learnt or unlearnt I sure as hell would have had you wiped out of my system a long time ago. Do you think I *want* to feel this way about a man who despises me?"

"Spirits, Tom. I don't despise you. I admire you. I respect you. I find you so attractive that my blood races whenever I'm in the same room as you and I care very much about you. I've never taken the time to find out whether I like you. The truth is, I don't really know you. I've spent so much time thinking I knew who you were that I never took the time to find out the truth. I...I want you, Tom. Now I've faced that, I can't stop thinking about it, can't pretend it's not true. And if I *didn't* care about you, I could lie to you and say I'd come to my senses and decided I love you. Only, well I can't do that to you. I've told you too many lies already and I refuse to do it any more. All I can do is be honest now and say I *want* to love you."

"You want to?" Tom demanded.

"You're my spirit-mate, Tom. I can see that now. *That's* why I've been obsessed with you for all these years. That's why you've always had such a dramatic effect on me. Only I couldn't see it for what it was before now. What I interpreted as hatred was always just passion. I don't want to turn my back on that or on you. I want to try. I want us to see if we can turn this damned mess into something that's worth all the pain you've suffered. I want to try but I don't want to hurt you so I have to be honest and say I don't know whether it will work between us."

"That's a hell of a lot of honesty for someone who's made a career out of lying to me," Tom pointed out bitterly.

"I don't know what else to say, Tom. The choice is yours. If you want me, I'm finally ready to give it my best shot."

"You make it sound like a battle. I've always been more a roses and chocolates kind'a guy. I wanted to get swept off my feet by some romantic, dashing hero. I never envisaged bargaining the terms of engagement," Tom retorted.

Chakotay sighed and rubbed his face wearily.

"I'll understand if you tell me to get the hell out of your life, Tom. I can only pray that you don't. That you give me a chance. Please?"

"I *should* tell you to fuck off," Tom replied, his eyes wounded. "I would if I had any fucking pride."

"Tom..."

"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up for a minute. It's my turn to speak."

Chakotay nodded miserably.

"I'll take your offer. To tell the truth, I'll take you any damn way I can have you," Tom mumbled unhappily. "You were right all along. I never really expected any 'happy ever after' and I sure as hell knew you'd never love me back. That was just a fantasy. Last night I told myself I could cut you loose and get on with my life, but I was wrong. I can't. I've wanted you for so long that I can't turn you away, even though every bone in my body is screaming at me to run away from you as fast and as far as I can. All...all I'm asking is that you don't lie to me, Chakotay. When it's over, when you don't want me anymore, don't fuck me about. Just do it, okay? Promise me that much."

"I don't want this, Tom. I can't start a relationship like this."

"You said you wanted to try."

"I do but.."

"No buts. This is the deal, Chakotay. Or were you lying about this too?"

Chakotay swayed, feeling nauseous as waves of grief and guilt swept over him. He'd never known that the pain of another person could feel like a knife twisting in his own gut, had never realized you could feel so bad over the way you  had treated someone that you wished you could take all that pain into yourself to save them. He'd never even guessed that being the unworthy recipient of someone else's love could hurt so damn bad.

This was *his* fault. Somehow, unknowingly and unwittingly, he'd done this to Tom. He'd battered Tom's ego so badly that the younger man had no expectation that their relationship could bring him anything other than more unhappiness and, yet, Tom still was willing to suffer that additional pain rather than walk away.

It humbled him that Tom loved him that much, sickened him that he'd allowed the situation to reach this point, and he hated himself for making the offer to attempt a relationship. He'd wounded Tom too badly for this to ever work. He knew that now. Too many years of his own indifference and unintentional cruelty had eroded Tom's defenses for them to meet as equals now. All Tom was trying to do was drag some small consolation prize out of his defeat. Tom didn't have any illusions that their relationship would work, all he wanted was something to compensate for all the years of hopeless longing, a few good memories to fall back on after it was all over.  

And it was in that moment, when he looked at the defiant set of Tom's shoulders, the angry despair in Tom's eyes, and the way Tom was desperately trying to pretend that it didn't matter to him whether Chakotay stayed or went, that the truth dawned on him.

He loved Tom.

He *did* love him.

It was impossible *not* to love the courage and the dignity and the damned foolishness of a love that wouldn't take no for an answer. A love that made Tom throw himself yet again into a battle he was sure he'd lose. A love so strong that it made Tom throw his tattered pride time and time again at Chakotay's feet in the certain knowledge that his heart would be carelessly trampled. A love that hoped for nothing, expected nothing and asked only to be let down kindly when it was inevitably spurned.

He opened his mouth to share this new and startling revelation, then closed it again. Like Tom had said, words meant nothing, healed nothing, solved nothing. Having spent the last half-hour telling Tom he *didn't* love him, it would sound like the cruelest of lies to now say he *did*.

He'd been a fool for too many years. He'd acted on his impulses, he'd spoken without thinking, had acted without knowledge and he'd hurt Tom unbearably without even realizing he was doing so. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"It's a deal," he said, reaching his hand out towards Tom, trying not to flinch at the combined look of relief and dread that crossed Tom's face.

/I'm going to make it up to you,/ he promised silently as he gathered the wary man into his arms and embraced him. /I'm not going to *tell* you how I feel. I'm going to show you. I'm going to spend every damn moment making it up to you, Tom, until *you* are the one who finally says it. Until *you* look me in the eyes and tell me you believe I love you.

/And it will be true, Tom. I know that now. I promise it to you. One day you'll look at me and know it's not just a 'deal'./

Go to Part Four