"Well, so much for shelter," Tom muttered unnecessarily.  "The Paris luck runs true to form once again."

"Then the sooner your name's Tom Ayala, the better," Greg smirked, although his smile belied the worried look in his eyes as he looked around the rocky plateau.

"Ayala? What the hell makes you think I'm taking *your* name?" Tom demanded, his expression thunderous.

"Gentlemen," Chakotay warned quietly. 

Both Lieutenants flushed and quietened but Tom flashed Greg a cold glare that promised the conversation wasn't over yet. Greg just grinned back unrepentantly and moved to help a couple of crewmen who were still struggling to climb the last few meters onto the rocks.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Tom asked quietly.

Chakotay checked no-one else could overhear and then nodded grimly. "I don't like the look of those storm clouds," he said, and Tom followed his gaze to the almost black sky that was approaching with frightening rapidity. "The temperature is already beginning to drop and we're too exposed to the wind up on this plateau. Soaking wet and cold isn't a good combination, Lieutenant."

"Why the hell aren't there any caves or at least any overhanging rocks?" Tom grumbled.

Chakotay just shrugged. He also had expected at least one of the huge boulders to offer some form of protection. Instead the entire rock formation was perpendicular. Although a number of the rocks had been eroded by the wind, they tapered into jagged points rather than concave curves. The wind whipped around the plateau, frequently changing force and direction, so they couldn't even choose a location to camp that would provide a wind-break against their backs.

"I'm reading cave formations on my tricorder," Chakotay replied. "There *are* caves beneath us. There's just no way to get down to them."

"Perhaps we missed an entrance as we climbed," Greg suggested, as he rejoined them. "We could send a couple of teams down to circumnavigate the plateau at the base."

Chakotay looked around the makeshift camp, taking in the exhausted faces. "It's almost dark, everyone's tired. We'd end up with people breaking their legs or even their necks. The ground's too treacherous for us to stumble around in the dark. We'll have to make some temporary camp for tonight. We can heat some of the rocks with our phasers and huddle together. Then we can try to find a cave in the morning when it's light again."

"I'm not sure everyone will survive until morning," Tom replied quietly.  "We don't have enough phaser-power to keep the rocks heated all night in these exposed conditions." 

"Tom's right," Greg confirmed reluctantly. "Most of the away team aren't armed."

"Why not?" Chakotay demanded. "It's standard practice to..."

"I know," Tom interrupted, "but it was hot and people were tired and sweaty, lugging baskets of fruit back and forth. Most of them weren't even wearing uniforms, let alone phasers."

"They should have..."

"Yeah, well they didn't," Tom snapped, then added a belated "Sir," when Chakotay glowered at him. 

"So how many phasers *do* we have between us?" Chakotay asked, as he reluctantly accepted Tom was right. There wasn't any point arguing about what people *should* have done. All that mattered now was that they made the best use of what they *did* have.

"Six," Tom mumbled.

Chakotay calculated quickly. Six phasers, plus their own three, was bad but workable.

"Six in total," Tom clarified as though he'd read Chakotay's mind.

"You're telling me that only *three* of them were carrying a weapon?" Chakotay barked.

Tom just shrugged.

"We've got twelve tricorders," Greg pointed out helpfully.

Chakotay decided a sarcastic "great" wouldn't be an appropriately commander-like response so he just gave a tired sigh.

"Six phasers won't keep us all warm," Tom said.

"I'm well aware of *that*," Chakotay snapped.

Tom's eyes flashed. "But maybe it's enough to break us into the caves from up here."

Chakotay stared at him thoughtfully, then glanced at Greg and then grinned.

"What?" Greg asked.

"I was just about to snap your head off for mentioning the fact we had a surplus of essentially useless tricorders," he admitted. "Now I'm glad I didn't."

Greg just stared at him blankly, but Tom laughed.

"Of course," he agreed, smiling at Chakotay.

"Anyone want to let me in on the joke?" Greg demanded.

Chakotay glanced up at the ever-darkening sky before replying.

"According to my readings, the caves are at least ten meters beneath our feet. We'd need a photon torpedo to blast open an entry here," he explained, "but there's a good chance that *somewhere* on this plateau the bedrock is thinner. I judge we've got less than an hour before that storm hits us and definitely less than two before sunset. If we're going to have any chance of finding a way down we'll need *all* those damned tricorders."

~#~#~#~

"Shit, that was close," Tom exclaimed loudly.

Greg flinched slightly, expecting Chakotay to react to Tom's profanity. Instead the big man began to laugh.

"What?" Tom demanded, as the Commander's mirth echoed through the dark, cold but thankfully *dry* cavern that they had scrambled into mere minutes before the storm had hit.

"I always wondered what you'd look like with a tan," Chakotay sniggered. "Trust me, it's not a good look for you."

Tom rubbed his face in confusion, his palm further smearing the dirt that plastered his features. "Huh?" he asked.

"Let's get everyone settled," Chakotay suggested. "Now we've drained all but one of the phasers, we're going to have to improvise for heat. This cave's huge and the wind's managed to follow us down here."

"There must be another exit," Tom pointed out.  "Something's pulling the wind in from the tunnel we made."

"Hopefully it will be lighter in here in the morning," Chakotay replied. "I'd like to check out how deep this cavern extends but not at the risk of anyone getting lost in the dark. We'll camp here, and get some sleep before we try exploring."

"Since there *is* a draught, we won't have to worry about smoke so we could have a regular fire," Greg suggested. 

"Using what?" Tom scoffed. 

"There's some kind of lichen growing on the walls of the cave. It's probably flammable."

"But it's damp."

"If we start the fire using our backpacks for kindling and heat the rock beneath it, it should work," Greg replied calmly.

"You're a regular boy-scout, aren't you?" Tom laughed.

"A what?"

"Never mind. It sounds good to me. What do you think, Commander?"

"Let's do it," Chakotay agreed, seeing the way the rest of the away team were huddling together in obvious misery. It *was* getting damned cold in the cave.

They upended all the supplies they had gathered into a small heap by the nearest cave wall, collected all the small rocks that they could find scattered around the floor and built a circular platform which they then heated with the phasers until it was glowing red.  Then, comforted and guided by both the heat and dim lighting that was already radiating off the rocks, they tore their back-packs into strips and lay them on the top where they began to shrivel and then burn.

They tore strips of the mossy lichen off the cave wall, laying it next to the fire so that it quickly began to dry off and then, realizing that the lichen could act as bedding as well as fuel, they continued to strip the wall until they reached the point where they were too far from the fire to see what they were doing.

"It smells foul," Hedley complained, as she pulled a bundle of the now dry moss away from the fire.

Several people moaned loudly in agreement.

"Yeah, but it's a hell of a lot better than sleeping on bare rock" Johanson pointed out.

His comment elicited more moans of reluctant agreement.

As the 'bedding' slowly dried and was acquired by the away team, the cavern began to fill with the sounds of occasional snores, loud sneezes and even louder curses as people struggled to find a comfortable position on the floor that didn't involve their noses coming into contact with the unpleasantly pungent lichen they were lying upon.

"'Fleeters," Greg snorted. "Can you imagine any of these pussies in the Maquis, Cap'n?"

"Nah," Chakotay replied good-naturedly. "None of them would have lasted a night."

"Why not?" Tom bristled.

"Cos, we would have put them out of their misery so we could get some sleep," Chakotay chuckled and Greg guffawed in agreement.

Tom looked at them both in complete shock, gradually realized they were pulling his leg and then punched Greg in the shoulder. He settled for just glaring at Chakotay.

"Try and get some sleep, Lieutenants," Chakotay said, in a softer voice. "Tomorrow morning we're going to have twenty-seven cold, stiff, hungry and miserable crewmen to cheer up.

Tom groaned dramatically and settled back against Greg, glad of the warmth of his body, the comfort of his arms and the fact that Chakotay's definition of PDA's didn't seem to extend to the idea of Tom and Greg sharing one of the mossy beds.

"Shit, this stuff *does* stink," he whispered into Greg's ear.

Greg just chuckled.

"Tom *Ayala*? Were you serious?" 

"Yup," Greg replied calmly.

"But why should I take *your* name?"

"'Cos I'm sure as hell not becoming a Paris," Greg snorted.

Tom thought about it and sighed softly.

"Nah. I guess I don't blame you."

"I love you, Tom," Greg whispered reassuringly, hearing the unmistakable sadness in Tom's voice and understanding that he had inadvertently hurt Tom with his words. 

"I love you too," Tom replied, but somewhere deep inside he felt the first knife of doubt twist in his guts. He knew he was over-reacting and that his feeling of hurt and depression was blown out of all proportion by the fact he was tired and sore and lost on a strange planet. Yet, still, Greg's throwaway comment hurt him in ways he wasn't ready yet to contemplate.

~#~#~#~

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Tom murmured, as they cautiously inched their way through the opening they'd found at the far end of the cavern. "It feels like someone's watching us."

He expected Chakotay to laugh at him, particularly since their tricorders insisted that they were alone. Instead, Chakotay took a deep breath and admitted "I know what you mean. Ever since we woke up I've had the oddest sensation. I keep imagining that I see people moving in the shadows but when I turn my head there's no one there."

"Yeah, I feel like a character in some horror-vid. Walking into some haunted house or something," Tom laughed.

"Fear of the dark unknown is completely natural survival instinct," Chakotay replied. "The fact that we *know* there's nothing here to be scared of doesn't change the way we *feel*."

Tom snorted with suppressed laughter.

"What's so funny?" Chakotay demanded.

"Sorry, Commander. It just struck me as funny that you were giving me, of all people, the counselor pep talk."

"Why *you* in particular?"

"See, there you go again. I make some throwaway comment and immediately you pick it apart and turn it into some personal revelation."

"Is it?" Chakotay asked. 

"Is it what?"

"Why did you say 'me, of all people' if you didn't mean anything by it?" 

Tom shrugged, then realized it was too dark for Chakotay to see the gesture so the older man was still waiting for an answer.  

"I just meant I don't need it, okay? You've got 28 other people down here to worry about, Commander. Save your concern for them. Me, I just 'go with the flow'."

"Is that what you're doing with Greg?" Chakotay asked, then winced and mentally kicked himself for saying it.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, Commander?" 

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Tom. I was out of line."

"You were so out of line you're in the next damned quadrant," Tom growled, "but since you started, you may as well finish."

Chakotay closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. Tom was right, he realized. He shouldn't have said anything but, now that he had, failing to explain himself would be as bad as continuing.

"I don't have a problem with you and Greg being together," he said honestly. "Greg's been in love with you for seven years and it's obvious that you love him too. When you finally got back together again I was pleased for both of you. You're good together and you make each other happy."

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm concerned that you're marrying him." 

"What are you saying, Chakotay?" Tom drawled. "I'm good enough for your friend to fuck but not good enough for him to marry?"

"No, Tom. That's *not* what I'm saying. I think you're good enough for *anyone* to marry you and be proud to call you their own."

"You do?" Tom asked uncertainly.

"I just worry that your idea of marriage and Greg's aren't the same."

"Shit, I should've seen that coming," Tom snarled. "Why the fuck do I always let you do that to me? Soften me up then knock me down. You've turned it into an artform, Commander."

"Why do *you* assume that it's your idea of marriage that I'm worried about?" Chakotay countered.

"Could it be because Greg's your friend?" Tom mocked.

"He is," Chakotay agreed, "and a good one. Which is why I shouldn't be discussing this with you. Let's change the subject."

"Let's not," Tom snarled.

Chakotay sighed.

"Look, all I'm saying is that I don't want *either* of you to be hurt. What does marriage mean to you, Tom?"

"It means commitment, to me, just like it does to anyone."

"Not everyone," Chakotay pointed out sadly. "I don't doubt that Greg loves you, Tom. I *know* he loves you. He's completely and absolutely head over heels in love with you. I just..."

"You just don't think he'll *stay* in love with me. That's what you're saying, isn't it?" Tom challenged. "You think he'll wise up and move on to someone better."

"Not someone better, Tom. Never that. Just someone else. I've known him a lot longer than you have. He loves with a passion, Tom. When he falls in love he's incandescent with it. His love is like a flame and, like a flame, it burns itself out. Sometimes I think Greg's just in love with *being* in love. Greg loves the chase, Tom. When it's over, he tends to lose interest."

"Why are you saying this to me?" Tom choked.

For a moment, Chakotay wondered a little himself. Why *was* he interfering? Why the hell was he trying to keep Tom and Greg together and thereby destroying any faint hope that Tom might one day love *him* instead?

Because he couldn't bear to see Tom hurt.

"I'm not warning you off, Tom. I've already told you I think the relationship between you is a good thing. I'm just saying that marrying him is a mistake. Don't let him take you for granted, Tom. He won't *mean* to do it. He just will. If you marry him, he'll lose interest."

"How the fuck do you know?" Tom demanded.

"Because it's happened twice before."

"Twice? What the hell do you mean 'twice'? " Tom gasped.

"I know you're aware of Celina. I wondered whether he'd mentioned Rand."

"Rand?"

"He was the man Greg divorced to marry Celina."

"I don't understand..."

"They were together four years and, at first, Greg worshipped him. Then they got married and within two months their relationship fell apart. That's when Greg met Celina and suddenly he was in love with *her* instead. He divorced Rand, married Celina, and then, while Celina was still pregnant with their second child, Greg just lost interest. Soon after that, he met *you*. He fell head over heels for you so fast that he sent her a message formalizing their separation before you even went on your first date.

"That's why I hated you for so long, Tom.  I blamed you for breaking up his marriage and then breaking his heart. Except, of course, none of it was your fault at all. I blamed *you* for your break-up with Greg because it was easier to hate someone I barely knew than face up to a flaw in one of my closest friends."

"You're wrong," Tom replied coldly. "The only reason Greg's never mentioned this 'Rand' is that he's irrelevant. Just as Celina is. He made a couple of mistakes before, that's all. He mistook lust for love. It happens. Lots of people do it. Greg loves me. I know he does and I don't give a damn whether *you* believe it or not. *I* know he loves me and that's all that counts."

"You're right," Chakotay sighed. " He *does* love you, Tom. I'm not questioning that. I'm not trying to break you up. Quite the opposite. You see, Rand and Celina both loved Greg too. They loved him like *you* love him.  Until they married him.  Then neither of them even tried to keep him when he decided to leave. I spoke to both of them, asked *both* of them why they no longer cared whether or not he stayed. They both said it was because Greg is a perfect lover but a terrible husband. He doesn't mean to do it but something about wearing a wedding ring changes him.

"He's loved you for seven years. That's longer than both his marriages put together. Maybe that *does* mean you're soulmates. Or maybe it just means he's never had a chance to take you for granted.  Don't give him that chance, Tom.  Don't let him ruin the best thing that's ever happened to him. All I want is for you *both* to be happy, Tom. I love Greg like he's my brother and I don't want *either* of you to get hurt. I just wanted to be sure you knew the facts. Now you do, and if you still want to marry him I'll say no more about it. Hell, I'll even walk you up the aisle if you want me to."

"Damn," Tom muttered. "Who'd have figured it?"

"What?" Chakotay asked worriedly.

"You really *do* like me, don't you?"

"Huh?"

Tom laughed. "I was so busy being offended by what you were saying about Greg that I didn't see it at first."

"See what?"

"That you didn't say all this to piss me off, you said it to protect me. You even risked your friendship with Greg, which I *know* is important to you, because you didn't feel you could leave it unsaid."

"That's it exactly," Chakotay agreed, "though I never expected you to understand."

"I'm not *always* a self-defensive asshole, Chakotay," Tom laughed. "You're too damned noble to sneak around stabbing people in the back, so you must have been pretty damned worried about *me*. I appreciate that. I mean you're still wrong about Greg, but thanks anyway."

"You're welcome," Chakotay replied softly. "And I *do* hope I'm wrong, Tom. Truly I do."

"Yeah. You and me both," Tom muttered.

Chakotay blinked at the sudden uncertainty in Tom's voice. "Tom? You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Want to talk about it?"

"If I married *you*, would you..." Tom began, then gave a self-depreciating laugh. "It's okay, forget it."

Chakotay took a deep breath to steady himself, unaccountably wounded by Tom's innocent comment but unable to let the matter drop.

"If you married me," he prompted.

"It's nothing," Tom sighed.

"Then it won't hurt to ask," Chakotay replied reasonably.

"Okay. Look if, in some alternate universe or something, you married me. Would you...um...would you take my name or would you expect me to take yours?"

"Well, in that theoretical alternate universe, since I don't *have* a second name I guess I'd accept yours, Tom."

"And that wouldn't bother you? Being a Paris, I mean?"

"It would be potentially awkward," Chakotay confessed. "Me being in the Maquis and your father being one of the men responsible for the Cardassian treaty, but not enough to stop me doing it. Your name is part of who you are, so I'd no more be able to deny it than I would to deny any other part of you. If I was in love with you, in this alternate universe I mean, as I assume I would have to be to marry you in the first place," he finished, with an awkward laugh.

"So the problem with the Paris name's just a Maquis thing?" Tom asked urgently, barely even registering the rest of Chakotay's comment.

"Yes, I think so," Chakotay agreed.

"That's okay then," Tom replied, with a relieved sigh.

~#~#~#~

"Find anything?" Greg asked, wrapping his arms around Tom and blowing into the soft hairs at his nape.

"A cave," Tom replied, shivering as Greg's breath trickled down the back of his neck, "and then another cave and then yet *another* damned cave."

"So nothing?" Greg laughed.

"Yeah, nothing," Tom agreed. "A whole damn lot of nothing. The next time Chakotay wants to go exploring, *you* can damned well go with him. I've got blisters on my blisters. Hell, you'd think after Ocampa he'd have had a stomach full of caves."

"So you didn't find another way out?"

"Nah, the tunnels all seem to lead downwards rather than out of the plateau. I think the whole damned planet is like a vast honeycomb."

"So we're not moving camp?"

"No point. The caves just get colder and darker as you go down. Besides, it's pretty creepy down there."

"What do you mean?"

"It's crazy, I know, but it just feels weird down there. I was creeped out. Every time we moved into a new cave I could swear that just as we walked in, *something* moved out."

"Something? What kind of something?" Greg demanded.

"Imaginary somethings," Tom laughed.  "There's nothing down there. We checked the tricorder. It's just shadows shifting or something. Chakotay says it's probably just some kind of prehistoric racial memory that was spooking us."

"You mean the Cap'n saw these *somethings* too?"

"Neither of us saw anything, Greg. We just felt weird, that's all," Tom replied easily.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah," Tom agreed. "And filthy. Guess a hot bath's out of the question?"

Greg laughed.

"I can offer you a cold shower," he grinned. "Just climb back up that tunnel we made and stand there for two minutes. It's been raining all day."

"All day?"

"Yeah. Good job we came down here. It might be dark, smelly and creepy as hell but at least it's dry."

"Yeah," Tom agreed. "There's a bright side to everything."

"So you and Chakotay got on okay today?" Greg asked, with pretended casualness.

Tom stiffened slightly, but forced a smile.

"Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Greg replied with a shrug. "It's just that the two of you don't have much in common. I wondered what you two managed to talk about alone for a whole day without falling out."

"This and that," Tom murmured.

"Did he mention *us*?" Greg asked.

"Yeah," Tom admitted.

"And?"

"And he said he'd walk me up the aisle if I wanted."

"He did? Hell, that's great."

"Yeah," Tom agreed.

"Shit," Greg chuckled.

"What?"

"It's stupid, I know, but I kind of worried he'd spend the day trying to talk you out of marrying me."

"What could he possibly say to me, Greg?" Tom asked calmly, although his heart was beginning  to thud in his chest. "Is there something he knows that you haven't told me? Something that might change my mind?"

Greg shrugged. "Of course not. I'm just feeling paranoid I guess. Probably these damned caves getting to me too."

"Yeah," Tom agreed. "That must be it. Didn't you say you were going to find me some food?"

"Sure, babe," Greg replied. He took a couple of steps towards the fire before a soft comment halted him in his tracks. He turned with a wide smile. "I love you too, Tom. Wait there, I'll be right back."

Tom sank down on the hard ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and hugging Greg's words to his heart. Greg loved him. He *did*. Even if he'd lied. And it wasn't *really* a lie, was it? No. It was more of an omission than a lie. A pretty *big* omission, admittedly. A whole husband-worth of an omission.

"Hey, you okay?" Greg asked worriedly, as he returned with an armful of fruit. "Are you crying, Tom?"

"Nah. I've just got some dirt in my eyes," Tom lied.

TBC