Tom fed the roll of credit chips into his replicator and blinked at the healthy new balance that flashed on the monitor. He smiled a little bitterly, watching the expression echoed on the shadow reflection of his face in the dark glass.

"Whore," he said aloud, and saw the reflection's eyes darken with hurt. 

He sighed softly, turning away from the replicator and walking over to sink down on his couch. Just a few hours ago he had been sitting on this same seat dreaming that, in the wake of his actions on the bridge and the Captain's public approval of him, perhaps the nightmare of his life was slowly going to get better. Since then, Tuvok's visit and his own discussion with Janeway had proven that nothing had really changed and nothing ever would. The only significant difference was that, while the credits lasted, his pain was no longer going to be felt inside his stomach.

Yet, as much as it hurt him to realize that he'd finally truly become that which Tuvok called him, a 'whore', his acceptance of Janeway's credits actually felt good in some ways too. For the first time he wasn't merely selling his loyalty to avoid pain or in a pointless effort to gain his father's approval. This time he'd gained a little value for himself in the exchange. 

Then again, since Janeway had come into his life, everything *had* changed slightly to slant in his favor. No other FIA officer had ever offered him anything in exchange for his co-operation, they had simply demanded it and punished him severely if he balked. Janeway had given him rank, his own room, a feeling of security if not actual safety, and now she was obviously prepared to bribe him to ensure his good-behavior.

Although he felt vaguely ashamed of being so easily bribable, he was also aware that it somehow increased his status somewhat. It made him feel more *real*. It was infinitely better to be regarded as a flawed, gullible, bribable human than a soulless, unthinking monster.

Not that Tom really was *that* gullible. He knew Starfleet Captains didn't play silly tricks on their subordinates for no other reason than to 'put egg on their face'. Janeway hadn't fooled him for a moment with her assertion that she just wanted to embarrass Tuvok. Although Tom *was* secretly thrilled by the thought of wiping the smug expression off Tuvok's superior face, he didn't believe Janeway truly shared his own, admittedly immature, motivations. 

No. 

The only explanation that made sense to him was that the Captain wanted to destroy Tuvok in an attempt to strengthen her own position in the FIA. Janeway had been the Admiral's personal aide so she had to know that Tuvok and the Admiral had been close for many years. She was obviously counting on the fact that Tuvok had been in deep under-cover for long enough to weaken that friendship. Tuvok was no longer up to date with the Admiral's plans, was no longer a close confidant, and so an act of stupidity like this attempted mutiny would just reinforce the fact that Tuvok had been out of the loop for too long to return to his former position of favor. As far as Tom could see it, this whole so-called 'trick' was simply evidence that Janeway had her eye firmly fixed on Tuvok's old role.

Even if he'd wanted to refuse, he wouldn't have dared. Tom was too aware that his very life was in Janeway's hands and he was grateful, at least, that she felt the need to handle him with a little unexpected delicacy. If she said jump, he'd only ask how high. It would never have even occurred to him not to agree to her plan, and so the credits were an unexpected bonus rather than the cost of his co-operation.

Yet the situation worried him. He had no idea what Tuvok might ask him to do and because Tom knew the Captain *wasn't* really just playing a trick, he knew she'd expect him to obey Tuvok without question until she was ready to show her hand. 

~#~#~#~

After several hours of fitful tossing and turning on his bed, Chakotay gave up his struggle to sleep and accepted he'd be spending another sleepless night as his mind refused to cease its endless attempt to solve the conundrum that was Tom Paris.

He'd seen a new side to Tom tonight, one that cast doubts on all of his previous assumptions, one that reawoke his feelings of protectiveness towards the blond. Yet, the anger was still there and even though it was now shaded with personal guilt and shame, it refused to be easily put aside.

So he decided he would simply wait.

He would bide his time instead of jumping in with both feet as he had previously. He had nothing to lose by waiting. Kathryn had made it clear that after the FIA operatives were flushed out, she intended to give Tom to him.

All he had to do in the meantime was come to some decision about what to do with Tom when that happened.

~#~#~#~

"Ensign Kim?"

Harry was tempted to pretend he hadn't heard the low voice from the far end of the corridor. He was almost at the turbolift. Just one more step and the doors would whoosh open to swallow him and *maybe*, if he was very lucky, they would close again before the Commander covered the distance between them. He took a half-step, his eyes fixed longingly at the lift, then shuddered to a halt and turned to face Chakotay, his expression neutral.

"Sir?"

"I wanted to have a private word with you, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Harry replied, his face giving away nothing of the churning in his stomach. He should have *known* it was a bad idea to rat on the Commander, he told himself furiously.

Chakotay gestured towards the lift and they both stepped inside. He waited until the door closed then turned to face Harry.

"I wanted to apologize," he said.

"Ap...apologize?" Harry squeaked, taking a nervous step backwards from the huge Commander.

"The other day I was out of line," Chakotay continued, with a small, self-depreciating smile. "I attempted to interfere in one of your personal relationships and inferred that it would affect your professional standing on this ship. I had no right to do so and you were perfectly right to mention the incident to the Captain. It won't happen again."

Harry gazed at Chakotay with undisguised relief and more than a little awe. Not only did the Commander seem perfectly sincere about not holding a grudge, but Harry was undeniably impressed that Chakotay was big enough to apologize.

"That's...that's okay," he mumbled. Then he decided to clarify his comment, just in case Chakotay was in any doubt. "I know you only were trying to warn me for my own good, but it was unnecessary. Tom isn't what you think he is. He doesn't deserve to be treated the way he is. I...I...well, I just wish you could see Tom the way *I* do."

Chakotay gave him a tight smile but didn't reply. They traveled in silence until the turbolift reached Chakotay's destination, then the door slid open and Chakotay stepped out. He took two steps into the corridor, then turned back just before the doors closed.

"So do I, Harry," he said softly, his expression sad. "Believe me, so do I."

Then the door closed and Harry was left behind, blinking at the metal panel in confusion. 

~#~#~#~

"Maybe you're wrong about Dalby," Tom suggested hesitantly. 

"I am a touch telepath," Tuvok snapped. "I could sense the trace of FIA conditioning on him."

"So?" Tom asked. "Maybe he *was* FIA, but he obviously doesn't want to get involved in your plan, so why bother trying to change his mind? It's not like you haven't got enough people already, is it?"

Tuvok just arched an eyebrow but it was sufficient to make Tom wish he hadn't started the conversation. He hurried to explain himself, hoping to somehow mollify Tuvok's obvious irritation with him.

"It just doesn't make sense that a ship this size would have so many FIA operatives on it. You've already established that nine people, eleven if you include us, are members of the FIA. It's already far more than you could have reasonably expected. Especially since the doctor and our original First Officer were FIA too and we have no idea how many *more* of the casualties might have been operatives. I mean if you work on the basis that some of the crew must be SCC operatives, are there *any* 'fleet crew members who aren't spies? Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that since you already have twice as many people as you originally expected, what difference does it make whether Dalby joins you or not?"

"Voyager is a prototype vessel. It is logical that both sides would have had a vested interest in her performance," Tuvok replied. "However, you fail to see the entire picture. Except for you and myself, the other surviving FIA operatives on this ship are 'sleepers' in positions of low-rank who simply perform their regular Starfleet duties until a situation occurs when the FIA needs to call upon them. Sleepers may be used numerous times, rarely or never at all. Crewman Dalby is one of two such sleepers who have, unfortunately, been left dormant long enough that they imagine they can avoid their sworn duty to the FIA. That is unacceptable. If I allow even *one* of the sleepers to refuse orders, others may follow their example. They will both comply with my orders or they will be terminated."

Tom gulped and half-turned away. Although he, of all people, understood Tuvok's capacity for ruthlessness it turned his stomach to hear someone talk so casually about ending another's life. He was also *reasonably* certain that the Captain would be pretty pissed off if Tuvok casually terminated a couple of the crew when they were already undermanned.

"Who's the other sleeper?" he asked worriedly.

"I will advise you of the identity *if* I require your assistance," Tuvok replied coldly. "For now, your only concern is Crewman Dalby. You will visit him and either persuade him to join us or you will terminate him."

"Terminate him? Me?" Tom yelped. "I'm not an assassin."

"No. You're a whore," Tuvok snapped. "If you're a *good* whore, there will be no need for an assassin, will there?"

"I don't understand," Tom mumbled although the sudden paling of his features suggested to the Vulcan that he *more* than understood. Nevertheless, Tuvok decided to spell it out for him.

"Dalby, like most humans, is self-interested. Because he does not believe we will return to the Alpha Quadrant, he cannot see any advantage to himself in honoring his obligation to the FIA. He is, however, known to be sexually interested in much younger men. Although you are somewhat older than his usual choice, you are of the physical type he prefers. Your various *skills* should prove sufficient inducement for his co-operation."

"I won't do it," Tom protested bravely. "I may be an FIA operative, but I'm also a Lieutenant now. My rank's legitimate Tuvok and while you could make me do that kind of thing with another officer, even the Admiral wouldn't make a Lieutenant whore himself to a crewman." 

"True," Tuvok agreed with a careless shrug. "He would, however, expect that Lieutenant to deal with our current situation in *some* fashion. If you prefer, I will provide you with an untraceable poison. The choice is yours."

~#~#~#~

"Look at this," Kathryn said, passing Chakotay a data padd containing a record of supply movements. Chakotay whistled under his breath.

"He's clever," he acknowledged. "On the surface he's just re-organizing the weapon supplies to make our defensive strategies operate more efficiently in the event we are boarded. If Tom hadn't told you what was really going on, we wouldn't have suspected a thing."

"Exactly," Kathryn agreed. "He's managed to move two dozen laser rifles to the locker in cargo bay 2. Armed with those, a handful of people can take over the whole ship in a surprise attack."

"Tuvok's clearly getting ready to make his move. When are you planning to make yours?" Chakotay asked.

"Tomorrow night," Kathryn replied. "From what Tom tells me, the nine people we've now identified aren't the only FIA operatives on board. There are a couple more who seem reluctant to join the mutiny."

"In which case, they are unlikely to be a threat," Chakotay pointed out.

"Agreed. But we still need to identify them. We can't risk leaving someone alive who *might* attempt to get Tuvok out of stasis. Tom says he's found out that one of them is Ken Dalby but he still doesn't know who the last operative is. Apparently Tuvok's sending him to Dalby tonight to persuade him to change his mind. Presumably, if Tom's successful, Tuvok will target him on the other operative tomorrow so then we'll have a name."

"What exactly do you mean 'target' him?" Chakotay growled.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Tom only has two marketable skills, Chakotay, and I highly doubt Dalby has a need for a personal pilot."

"Shit," Chakotay exclaimed, thumping the table with the side of his fist.

"Why did you *think* Tuvok brought Tom into his plans?" Kathryn asked quietly. "Tuvok loathes Tom, but accepts that he's too useful a tool to ignore. He's offering Tom as an attractive incentive where threats would fail."

"How do you know?"

"Because Tom came to see me this afternoon. He didn't dare ask me outright, but it was obvious he was hoping I'd allow him to defy Tuvok over this."

"What do you mean 'hoping'?"

"His choice is to either turn Dalby or kill him and we both know Tom isn't a killer. Unless Tom resolves the situation tonight, Tuvok isn't going to tell him the identity of the last operative. We're running out of time, Chakotay. We have to move against Tuvok tomorrow night and we *need* that name. So I told Tom he has no choice. He has to seduce Dalby."

"Or kill him," Chakotay growled. "If Dalby joins the mutiny, he'll be dead by this time tomorrow anyway. There's no need for Tom to let the bastard touch him."

"I told you, Tom isn't a killer. Besides, Tom doesn't *know* we're planning to kill the mutineers, does he?"

"Spirits, Kathryn. We're becoming the very thing we're fighting against."

"We became that when we agreed that the murder of the FIA operatives was an acceptable solution. In comparison to that decision, the idea of Tom Paris exchanging a name for a fuck seems barely worthy of comment."

"Because in your opinion he's just a whore, anyway" Chakotay accused bitterly.

"The safety of the whole crew is at stake. It's got nothing to do with Tom personally. I'd order *Harry Kim* to sleep with Dalby if Voyager's safety depended on it. I regret using Tom this way, but I don't feel guilty about it and since he *is* experienced with this type of operation he'll get over it." She sighed at the look of outrage on Chakotay's face. "It's not open to discussion Chakotay, and before you get on your moral high-ground, ask yourself whether you are bothered by the idea of me using anyone this way or whether it's just that I'm using Tom.

"And, if it is the fact that it's Tom that bothers you, chew on this. You've had three weeks to make your peace with him. You've had more than sufficient opportunity to put things right between you and, between you and me, if you *had* done so I would have done everything I could to avoid Tuvok using Tom in this fashion. I would have bent over backwards to protect your relationship. But you don't *have* a relationship to be protected, do you? The way it looks to me, you don't want Tom but no one else is supposed to touch him.

"We'll that's not good enough and it's certainly not a good enough reason to pull him off this mission. Who knows? Tom's probably feeling so damn lonely at the moment that he might actually enjoy himself."

Then she scowled at the look on Chakotay's face.

"Unless *that's* what's really bothering you," she added coldly.

~#~#~#~

"What the fuck do you want, Paris?" Dalby growled.

Tom flinched at the look of undisguised disgust on the older man's face but, when Dalby stepped back to let the door slide shut in his face, he leapt forward into Dalby's quarters. Although designed for two men, Dalby's quarters were less than half the size of his own. Because Dalby lived alone he'd taken down the top bunk and had lashed it to his own to form a larger bed that dominated the small room and left so little standing space that Tom's entrance put him far too close to Dalby's furious face.

"Get out of my quarters, *Sir*," Dalby hissed, managing to make his acknowledgment of Tom's rank sound like the worst insult.

"Commander Tuvok sent me," Tom explained quickly.

A look of pained resignation flashed over Dalby's features, making him look smaller and less threatening.

"I should have expected *something*," Dalby growled. "Didn't expect *you* though, Paris. You FIA then or are you just slumming it?"

Tom chewed his lower lip a moment, tempted to say that being FIA *was* slumming it, but he was too scared that Dalby might repeat the conversation.

"Commander Tuvok sent me to tell you that he understands why you feel the way you do. However, he wants to remind you that we could find a way home to the Alpha Quadrant at any time and you would then have to pay the consequences for refusing to accept his orders."

"He sent *you* to threaten me?" Dalby asked, his eyes raking over Tom's slight frame with evident amusement. 

"No," Tom replied, flushing slightly. "He sent me to make the idea of co-operation seem more attractive to you."

"So," Dalby drawled, his upper lip curling with obvious contempt. "You're not only Tuvok's little messenger boy, but his whore too. I should have figured you for an FIA fucktoy, Paris. Pretty and poisonous, it should have been a dead giveaway."

Tom swallowed heavily at Dalby's mention of poison and, although he dropped his eyes to the floor in the face of Dalby's sneer, he desperately reminded himself that if he didn't succeed in his seduction, Ken Dalby would pay for the failure with his life. Just because the guy was an asshole, a *rude* asshole, he didn't deserve to die. He'd fucked worse, Tom reminded himself. *Much* worse.

"You apparently wanted to know what was 'in it for you'. The commander has…well, he wants me to make it worth your while," Tom said, then made an obvious show of loosening the fastenings at his waistband.

Dalby gulped loudly, the anger in his eyes temporarily displaced by a darker emotion. Then he shook himself visibly and his expression of scorn returned.

"So, let me get this straight, Paris. I help Tuvok and in exchange I get to fuck your undoubtedly already well-used ass?"

"Yes, Sir," Tom mumbled, without thinking, as he peeled off his jacket and began to lose himself in the role he was playing.

Dalby frowned at the distant look in Tom's eyes. He'd seen eyes like those before. They were the eyes of a whore. Not sluts eyes. There was no seduction in Tom's expression. No lust. Just an ancient, terrible hopelessness. Dalby's own angry expression faded and was replaced by a little compassion. He grabbed hold of Tom's arms to halt his attempted striptease.

"Don't you *Sir* me, you stupid bastard," Dalby growled. "You're a Lieutenant, I'm just a grunt, remember?"

Tom just shrugged listlessly, his eyes still remote. 

"Why the hell didn't you just tell Tuvok to go fuck himself?" Dalby growled.

It was enough to break through Tom's haze. "What?"

"We're in the fucking Delta Quadrant. We're seventy years away from all that shit. Do you know how many years I've dreamt of being able to get out of the FIA? This is my chance, Paris. A fresh start. A clean slate. If you had any sense, you'd tell Tuvok to fuck off and give yourself a new start too, or do you like being an FIA whore?"." 

"I can't," Tom whispered.

Dalby glared at him, then sighed.

"No, I don't suppose *you* can. I never understood it myself, the way the Admiral turned his back on you after Caldik Prime. I'm not saying what you did was okay, but I could never figure a guy turning on his own son that way. 'Course, it's obvious now that he didn't. You've been working for him all along haven't you?"

"Yeah," Tom confessed.

Dalby nodded, then his eyes narrowed a little. "Were you working for him when you crashed that shuttle?"

"I wasn't on the shuttle until after the crash," Tom said quietly.

"Set up, huh?" Dalby asked, his expression surprisingly sympathetic. "Yeah, I know how *that* works. For me it was some cute under-aged Risan whore who just happened to wake up dead in my bed one morning. The FIA covered it up for me. Saved me from jail. I've been paying them back for that favor for 12 years. If you can call it a favor since I eventually figured out it was them who killed the poor bastard in the first place. I admit he *was* just a kid. You'd think that would have been sufficient blackmail, wouldn't you? They didn't *have* to kill him."

"The Admiral always said 'if you're going to do a job, do it well'," Tom replied sadly.

"I don't want any part in Tuvok's mutiny," Dalby said quietly. "If I was your average FIA bastard, I'd take the offer of your ass and *then* tell you that. Maybe I should do it anyway, just to fuck a Paris since your father has been shafting *me* for 12 years. Only, I kind of get the feeling he's been shafting *you* for even longer. Get out, kid, while you can. Know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna jump ship on the first suitable planet and then no-one's gonna see me for dust. If you've got any sense, you'll do the same."

"Can't you…" Tom swallowed hard and dropped his eyes. "Can't you pretend? Just until you *do* jump ship?"

"Why? You think Tuvok's gonna come after me? Why should he? Tell him I want no part in it, but I won't interfere anyway. Tell him I just wanna leave the ship. I'm not worth killing and my death would cause an investigation that Tuvok can't afford at the moment," Dalby laughed, but then his eyes narrowed a little as he saw a distinct look of fear in Tom's expression. "Or am I missing something?"

"There's poisons that are untraceable, Ken," Tom whispered.

"Fuck," Ken growled. "Let me guess. Your orders are to turn me or kill me."

"Please, Ken. Just pretend to join him. That's all you need to do. Just pretend for a little while," Tom begged.

"Shit, Kid. I've been pretending for twelve fucking years. I'm tired of it all. Sometimes I wish I'd just let myself go to jail. I'd have been out by now. It would be over. I'd be able to look at myself in a mirror. Twelve years, Tom, never knowing when they'd call in their markers. Never daring to settle down with anyone in case they got pulled into this nightmare with me. Twelve years of turning down promotions because I was scared that if I made something of myself it would bring their attention to me. Then we got stuck out here and all I could think about was the fact I was finally free. Only, I'll never be free, will I?"

Tom looked at him sadly, wishing he had the nerve to tell the older man that it wasn't hopeless, that the Captain would somehow make everything alright. He didn't dare. Not even now when it was becoming increasingly obvious to him that Ken *wasn't* an asshole after all.

"Please," he pleaded. "If you don't care about yourself, can't you do it for me?"

"For you?" Ken asked, frowning with confusion.

"I...I can't kill you," Tom admitted.

"Obviously," Ken replied with a rueful chuckle. "Otherwise you'd hardly have told me about the poison, would you?"

"But if you don't join Tuvok, he'll..." Tom's voice trailed off.

"He'll punish you for failing," Ken concluded bitterly.

Tom nodded. He didn't have to fake the look of terror in his eyes.

Ken sighed heavily. "What's another few weeks of ass-kissing? We're going to have to stop *somewhere* eventually, right? Somewhere I can make a run for it."

"Yeah," Tom agreed, risking a small smile.

"So I guess you'd better stay the night, after all, and then  I'll go make nice with Tuvok."

"You won't regret it," Tom promised. He wasn't *sure* that the Captain would simply agree to let Ken leave the ship. She *was* FIA, after all. Still, he'd learnt that she *could* be bargained with and she would surely have need for his co-operation after she'd dealt with Tuvok. As much as he loathed his modifications, he acknowledged they made him a useful tool. Maybe useful enough that he could offer Janeway a deal. There was a vast difference between a roll of credits and a man's life, but the principle was the same.

He dropped his jacket and started to peel his t-shirt off.

"I didn't mean you had to sleep with me," Ken mumbled, flushing slightly.

"I know," Tom replied, continuing to strip. Then he froze suddenly and looked at Ken with cautious eyes. "Don't..don't you want me?" he asked.

Ken's blush deepened and he chewed his lower lip hesitantly.

"I'd consider it an honor to make love to you," he said bashfully. "But only if you really want to."

"Know something?" Tom asked sadly. "I've been fucked so many times I've lost count but this is only the second time anyone's ever wanted to make love to me."

"Really?" Ken asked.

"Yeah. It...well, it didn't work out for me so well last time," Tom confessed wryly.

Ken wrapped his arms around Tom with surprising gentleness.

"Love's never worked out for me either," he whispered huskily. "And it's been so long that I probably won't even make it good for you," he warned.

"Just don't hurt me," Tom whispered. "That's enough. Just that it doesn't hurt."

~#~#~#~

"Computer, confirm location of Lieutenant Paris."

"Lieutenant Paris is on Deck five, crewquarters nine," the computer replied.

Chakotay checked the chronometer and groaned. It was gone midnight. Tom had been in Dalby's quarters for over three hours now so there was no point hoping he hadn't gone through with it.

Tom was fucking Ken Dalby. More likely being *fucked* by Ken Dalby. 

/Whore/

Was he writhing in ecstasy? Was he making that little panting, mewling sound? Was he begging for it? Screaming? Howling? Bouncing up and down on Dalby's bed while Dalby pounded his cock into that hot, sweet, sluttish ass?

Chakotay groaned and touched himself, his fingers tracing the hard heat of his own swollen flesh, his eyes closing as he pictured himself in Dalby's place, plunging into Tom's sweetness. His face twisted in jealousy, in anger, in unbearable sorrow, yet his hand played up and down his own shaft, stroking and teasing the lonely flesh that seemed oblivious to his misery, that ignored his heartache and responded only to the image of Tom's naked form that danced in his mind.

/Kathryn was right. It's my own fault/ he decided, as he pulled and tugged on his cock. /It could be me touching Tom now, could be *me* making him scream with pleasure, it could be *his* hands touching me, stroking me, loving me./

/It's just a job to him

/That's all. Nothing more

/He's with Dalby because he has no choice. Because he's obeying Tuvok and Kathryn, and maybe even just trying to save the bastard's life.

/Because he's lonely.

/Because he needs this, like I need this. 

/Because he misses me, like I miss him./

Chakotay's fingers tightened almost cruelly on his own cock as he tried, for just a moment, to hold back the wave of pleasure that threatened to engulf him and then he gave a harsh cry.

"TOM," he howled, and he came.

And, as he lay back gasping for breath, the blood ringing in his ears, his fingers swirling a sticky pattern on his heaving stomach, he made the decision.

Maybe it had taken the idea of another man taking what was his for him to even accept that Tom *was* his. Maybe he still hated what Tom had done. Maybe it would take him a long time to trust Tom again. Maybe it would take Tom a long time to trust *him* again and maybe they never *would* regain exactly the same relationship as they had lost. 

But he wanted Tom back.

/Because, he might be a spy and a whore and a mod and who knows what else but, Spirits help me, I *do* still love him./

~#~#~#~

It was sweet and it was clumsy, no more than a joining of two damaged men who yearned for nothing more than a temporary relief from their years of living their respective nightmares. Their touches were awkward, their kisses a little fumbling and, when they finally merged together and found a rhythm, they came to completion with a little too much speed and desperation on both sides for it to be truly satisfying. There were no fireworks, no exclamations of deep passion, no avowals of love. Just two people clinging together as though the touch of another's body could heal the savage rips in their souls.

Yet as they lay side by side in the aftermath, only their hands interlinked, there was a sense of intense peace in that tiny room.  

"Will you…" Tom finally asked, as the night gave way to morning.

"Will I what, honey?" Dalby asked, his tone so soft and affectionate that it made Tom shiver.

"Would you…take me with you?" Tom whispered. "When you leave the ship, can I come too?"

"Sure," Dalby agreed.

And although no more words were spoken, their interlaced fingers squeezed together to affirm the promise made.

Go to Part Twenty