Part Two

By 1700 Tom had completely scrubbed Chakotay’s quarters from ceiling to floor, had retrieved clean sheets from the refresher to remake the bed with military precision and had retreated to the bathroom to prepare himself for Chakotay’s return.

He had become so accustomed to giving himself an enema that the only thing that he registered as he performed the necessary ablutions was that his ass was thankfully free of pain for the first time in weeks. He had no illusion that the situation would remain pain free for long. Quite apart from the necessity to insert the huge butt plug as part of his usual preparations, he had a feeling that now Chakotay had overcome his reluctance to penetrate him, he was going to spend a fair amount of his future nights face down on the bed with Chakotay grunting on top of him.

The thought was not as horrific as it ought to be, he realized and kicked himself mentally for his continuing ambivalence towards his insane captor.

He hadn’t even considered failing to prepare himself as usual for Chakotay’s return. When the Commander arrived home he would find Tom submissively in position as always. Quite apart from the fact that this would prevent a violent punishment from the older man, Tom had decided that his continued obedience despite Chakotay’s earlier ‘kindness’ would increase the illusion that he was voluntarily participating in Chakotay’s ‘game’.

When he had finally finished emptying his bowels and was sure of his inner cleanliness, Tom lifted one leg onto the toilet seat and taking a handful of lubricant he reached under his groin and began to loosen his sphincter. His muscles relaxed with the ease of practice and it only took a couple of minutes before he could begin easing the butt plug into himself.

He clenched his teeth against the pain as the thickest part of the plug stretched him to his limit and then slid home with a slurping sound.

He carefully moved into an upright position, his legs slightly spread to accommodate the thick invader, and began to bind his cock and balls with the leather straps that Chakotay had left him in place of a cock ring

Finally sure that he presented a pleasant vision, he moved slowly into the living room and took ‘position’ opposite the door

1800 came and went as he knelt patiently for his ‘master’s’ return.

By 2300 he was cramping and shuffling in place with increasing agitation. His earlier confidence was disappearing rapidly as he tried to understand the reason for Chakotay’s lateness.

Was this a punishment? Had Chakotay regretted his earlier acts of consideration and decided to punish him for them or was this a test to see whether he was truly obedient? On the other hand, what if something had happened to the Commander? How long would it be before someone remembered that he was still on board and came to rescue him?

His momentary hope splintered as he remembered that no one had bothered to rescue him before now. Maybe no one cared. Maybe everyone KNEW the Commander was holding him as a sexual slave but simply didn’t give a damn. None of the Maquis cared, that much he knew without doubt and he was still uncertain whether the Captain was aware or not.

It made no sense that she was unaware, given that she had left him in the madman’s clutches and yet he still clung on to the thin thread of hope that she was as fooled by Chakotay’s placid outward persona as he had previously been.

The opening of the door interrupted his reflections. He flinched against the sudden illumination as the lights came on full to reveal Chakotay and Ayala staggering in, arm in arm, obviously the worse for drink.

The pair made a cursory glance in his direction and then simply staggered to the overstuffed sofa and collapsed in grinning heaps as they continued their ribald discussion.

“So I told her that in my opinion she should keep on sleeping with Michael, whatever anyone said, if it made her happy.” Chakotay smirked, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks “and the silly cow was so grateful for my ‘understanding’ that she practically creamed in her pants then and there.”

“Well, I guess the advantage of a holographic lover is that you can just reprogram them to suit your requirements, whatever perversions they are.” Ayala sniggered

“Oh, I don’t know, Greg” Chakotay grinned “You can do that with flesh and blood people too.” And he cocked his head in Tom’s direction.

Tom’s cheeks flamed but he stayed in position, his eyes lowered bashfully to the floor.

“Ah, but you can’t ever be SURE, can you?” Ayala said slyly. He had seen Tom ‘in position’ many times but had always seen the rigidness of the Pilot’s shoulders and sensed the indefatigable resentment that poured off the blonde. Admittedly tonight Tom seemed different, his posture was more relaxed and his eyes were no longer flashing that odd mix of fear and scorn, but Ayala had no doubt that the young man’s spirit was only bowed, not broken.

Chakotay frowned in irritation at Ayala’s words. He gazed at Tom thoughtfully for a few moments and then snapped his fingers in decision.

“Simon, we have a guest, where the fuck are your manners?” He snarled.

Ayala glanced worriedly at his friend as Chakotay called Tom the name of his dead lover. Ayala worried for a moment that Chakotay had completely gone over the edge. But, then again, Chakotay could call Tom anything he liked, as long as he didn’t actually believe it. He wondered how the pilot felt to be called Simon.

To his surprise Tom responded to the name and rose gracefully, padding submissively over to the couch and stopping in front of them.

“How may I serve you, Sir?” Tom asked humbly, his naked body quivering but his face serene.

“Get us some more beer, oh and some sandwiches.” Chakotay purred with a satisfied smirk at Tom's obedience.

“Yes, Sir.” Tom replied softly and hurried to comply. Ayala watched the end of the butt plug bobbing in the blond’s ass as he scurried to the replicator.

“I see the bruises have gone,” he muttered thoughtfully, “So I guess he is being more co-operative in ALL ways.”

Chakotay grinned happily.

“We have reached an understanding, I think.” He confided to Ayala, with a touch of pride.

“It’s a nice ass when it isn’t black and blue.” Ayala mentioned casually. Chakotay wasn’t fooled.

“It’s MY nice ass, Greg.” he warned.

“We’re friends, friends share.” Ayala smirked unrepentantly.

Chakotay’s eyes clouded with barely concealed fury. “Simon is MINE.” He shouted loud enough to make Tom flinch at the replicator.

Ayala blinked in astonishment.

“He’s Tom Paris,” he reminded Chakotay worriedly.

Chakotay looked at him for a long time and then smirked.

“I know who he is.” He whispered quietly “But I’m enjoying this game. He thinks I am completely mad. It’s fascinating watching him try to manipulate my supposed ‘insanity’.” 

“That’s why you wanted Geron to talk to Tom.” Ayala breathed in horrified admiration “You guessed he would tell the story of Simon to Tom.”

“Exactly. Now Tom thinks I am completely mad and all he has to do is BE Simon and I will let down my guard.”

“So why are you letting him do it?” Ayala whispered back

“Because I am benefiting from his spirit of co-operation. By the time he realizes it is all a deception he will be far too enmeshed in the lifestyle to WANT to escape. He loves it, loves it all. He just is too damned stubborn to admit it. Shush, he’s coming back.” Chakotay warned

“So if you won’t share his ass, won’t you share his mouth?” Ayala said loudly to change the subject.

To his surprise Chakotay just laughed. “It’s a very talented mouth, isn’t it, Simon?”

Hovering with his tray, Tom looked helplessly at Chakotay, biting his lips as he struggled to think of an appropriate reply.

“Yes Sir, if you say so, Sir.” He finally muttered.

“Show him.” Chakotay ordered with a cruel leer..

For a second Tom swayed with misery and then he carefully put the tray of drinks and snacks down and sank gracefully between Ayala’s legs and fumbled to release his cock from the restraining fabric of his pants.

For a second he traced nervous fingers over Ayala’s swollen member, his eyes meeting Chakotay’s in misery, and then he opened his mouth and let Ayala’s cock slide smoothly into his throat.

Ayala leant back in his chair with a grunt of satisfaction as Tom’s talented mouth bobbed up and down his cock, working magic with teeth and tongue.

Chakotay took a beer and chugged a mouthful thoughtfully as he watched Simon pleasuring his friend.

He didn’t blame Ayala for doubting. Of course he thought that Simon was really the Tom Paris that he pretended to be. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that anyone else would understand the special bond between him and Simon, the bond that had enabled his beloved to come back from the dead for him.

He even understood exactly HOW Simon had done it. He had checked the dates methodically. Simon had died on the very day that Tom Paris had crashed on Caldik Prime. Only he, Chakotay, understood that Tom hadn’t survived the crash, that Simon’s spirit had taken refuge in the body of Tom Paris and had therefore had been able to come back to him.

As for Simon’s failure to recognize him when they met again, well, perhaps the experience of transferring bodies had affected his memory somehow, or perhaps it had all been an elaborate ruse to punish him. His favorite personal explanation was that Tom Paris’s soul had refused to leave his body. That Simon had been trapped behind the pilot’s cocky persona and it was only the years of abuse that had convinced Tom to leave and allowed Simon to remain.

Of course, he knew that would sound mad to anyone without his own spiritual beliefs, so he would continue to deny Simon’s existence publicly. It was enough that he and his beloved were together again. Ayala and the rest could believe what they liked.

With a muffled scream, Ayala shot his load into Tom’s mouth and collapsed back on the sofa, his chest heaving with the exertion of his orgasm.

“Shit! Chakotay, that was great! Thanks, buddy!” He gasped, totally ignoring Tom.

Tom’s cheeks flared with renewed humiliation as he recognized that in Ayala’s eyes he was just a possession of Chakotay’s and that his actions were merely taken as an extension of Chakotay’s hospitality.

Understanding that, Tom simply handed Ayala a beer and then crawled back into position in front of Chakotay. To his relief, his ‘master’ seemed uninterested in having the same service, so he relaxed back on his haunches and dozed quietly as the two men ate, drank and laughed for several more hours.

Eventually Ayala rose to leave and staggered drunkenly out of Chakotay’s quarters. As he passed Tom he absently rubbed the blond’s hair as though petting a good dog.

Tom had to resist the insane urge to bite his ankles as he passed.

Chakotay’s drunken brown eyes met his and a smile ghosted across the bronze face.

“Let’s go to bed, Simon.” He slurred happily.

Tom rose to his feet, shook his legs to relieve his pins and needles and then helped Chakotay to his feet. Chakotay slung an unsteady arm around his shoulders and they staggered to the bedroom. Almost crushed by Chakotay’s dead weight, Tom helped the older man into bed and then hovered uncertainly, unsure whether he was to sleep in the bed or on the floor.

“Come here!” Chakotay mumbled, reaching an arm out commandingly and Tom slipped into bed next to the drunken commander.

Chakotay spooned up behind him, wrapped a heavy arm around his waist and immediately began to snore into his neck.

Tom’s own exhaustion finally overcame the discomfort of the butt plug, which was being pressed deeper inside him by the pressure of Chakotay’s hip against his ass, and he slept in Chakotay’s arms.

His last thought as he drifted off was that he hoped the bastard remembered to remove the bloody thing before fucking him in the morning.

~~~

"Hiya Starfleet," B'Elanna murmured, as she slid into the seat opposite and dropped her tray on the table with a grimace of disgust at its contents. "So much for an anniversary dinner, huh? The fucking replicators are *still* refusing to come back on-line."

Harry gave a tired grin of appreciation for her bravery in facing Neelix's cuisine.

"Thanks for meeting me, honey. I know the problems you've got in Engineering today," he said sympathetically. "It must have been difficult to get away."

"It was," B'Elanna admitted, with a weary sigh. "Shit, I can't believe the way I used to complain about Tom's flying. At least *he* never decided to take a short cut through a black hole. The gravimetric stress on the warp engines has shorted out most of the ship's systems. We're going to be limping at half-warp for the next ten days, the Doc's program is floating somewhere in the ether, and half the ship have gone down with food-poisoning because they are having to eat *this* crap."

"Well, Hamilton didn't *mean* to do it. He just made a mistake," Harry replied placatingly.

"A mistake? An, 'Oops, I forgot for a moment that black holes crush starships like paper cups,' kind of mistake?" B'Elanna hissed. "He's an idiot, Harry. An irresponsible, dangerous idiot."

"Yeah, well, he's not Tom, for sure," Harry replied carefully.

The angry expression on B'Elanna's face faded to uncertainty.

"I've been thinking," she said slowly. "About what you said this morning, about it being our anniversary."

"Three months today," Harry confirmed.

"Well, I don't know how to say this, without it coming out wrong, but I've been thinking about that, all day. The three months, I mean, and I, well I, that is -" B'Elanna's words trailed off into a very un-Klingon silence.

Harry reached forward and clasped her hands gently.

"I know," he said. "Me too."

"You have?" B'Elanna gasped in astonishment.

Harry shrugged, his mouth twisting into a wry grimace.

"He was my best friend, B'Elanna. Even if it didn't mean anything to him, it *did* mean something to me. I can't just pretend those years never happened. Besides, since he only said those things to me just before his breakdown, maybe he never meant them at all," Harry muttered.

"I wish I could feel the same way," B'Elanna confessed. "But Dalby was pretty clear about the fact that he'd been fucking Tom all along."

"Yeah, but since when has Dalby ever told the truth, B'El? You told me last week that he was the biggest liar on the "Crazy Horse," always boasting about battles that he'd never even been to, let alone been a hero of," Harry reminded her.

"You know the thing that hurts the most? I didn't love him, Harry," B'Elanna whispered suddenly. 

"What?" Harry demanded.

"No, really. I've been thinking about it. I thought I did at the time, but the longer you and I are together, the more I realize that what was between Tom and I wasn't love. I don't know *what* it was, to be honest. But it wasn't love. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I realize it would never have worked out between us, and if Tom hadn't done what he did, then I never would have found you. So it seems pointless to hold a grudge, doesn't it?" 

"Then you wouldn't be angry with me?" Harry asked. "If I tried to make up with him?"

"Of course not, Harry. I'm not sure if I can go that far myself, but I certainly wouldn't stand in your way. I know you miss him."

"I do," Harry agreed.

"I don't think you have a chance in hell of doing it, though," B'Elanna warned. "No-one has seen him for weeks. Chakotay says he's completely lost touch with reality. Kahless only knows where Chakotay is getting the patience from. Actually, I spoke to Greg about Tom today, and he says that if we were home, Tom would have been institutionalized. He 's drugged up to the eyeballs and still can't cope with anyone going near him."

"Well, no one else was his friend, B'El. I mean I can understand him trusting Chakotay, we all do, but he never *liked* Chakotay. Surely he'd respond to me? I can't see how it could possibly upset him if *I* visited him. Hell, maybe it's what he needs," Harry argued.

"I think you'd best ask Chakotay's opinion, Harry. He'll be able to judge whether it is wise," B'Elanna advised.

"Do you think he'll be mad at me for asking?"

B'Elanna arched her brows in surprise.

"Of course not, Harry. He would hardly have been looking after Tom if he didn't care about him. I expect he'll be pleasantly surprised that you have decided to try and help. It must be wearing him out, looking after Tom by himself and doing his job too. I'll bet he'll jump at the chance of some support."

Harry gave a relieved grin.

"Thanks B'El."

"Are you going to tell him?" 

"Tell him what?"

"About us."

"He already knows."

"Not *Chakotay.* I'm talking about Tom. Are you going to tell him?"

Harry bit his lower lip.

"Maybe it would be best not to mention it, at first," Harry replied.

B'Elanna gave a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I mean it's not like it's any of his business, but still. Probably best you don't tell him yet."

~~~

"No," Chakotay said emphatically.

"No? But I don't understand, Sir. He's my best friend, at least he *was*, I don't see how it could hurt," Harry argued.

"Tom is not well, Lieutenant. He's not able to deal with stress at the moment. Especially the stress of seeing you."

"Me?"

"Well you *are* sleeping with his girlfriend, aren't you?" Chakotay snapped.

Harry blushed and ducked his eyes from Chakotay's accusatory glare.

"B'Elanna *isn't* his girlfriend any more, and I *am* his friend. We both might have forgotten that for a time, but the fact remains that Tom and I went through a lot together. It means something to me, and I'm sure it still means something to him. I don't see that it can do any harm for me to at least try," Harry argued.

"I will not have you interfering with Tom's recovery just because you have found a belated sense of guilt, Lieutenant. I said 'no' and that's final," Chakotay replied.

"What recovery? You said yourself that Tom is only getting worse. It's been three months and he still isn't any better. Maybe what he needs is to see someone other than you, Sir. I mean, you don't seem to be succeeding very well by yourself, do you?" Harry challenged angrily.

Chakotay's eyes sparked black fire.

"You are *this* far," and he gestured a tiny space with his thumb and forefinger, "from a charge of insubordination, Mr. Kim. Perhaps you should recall that the only reason you are a Lieutenant on this ship is the fact that Tom vacated the position. I'm surprised you are so keen to be demoted again."

~~~

"He said *what*?" B'Elanna demanded, her face flooded with disbelief.

"Honestly, B'El. He *did* say it. He as much as said that I should let Tom stay ill, just to keep my Lieutenant's position," Harry told her.

"You must have misunderstood him, Harry. He was probably just referring to the fact that your insubordination could lose you the rank."

"Since when is it insubordination to care for another crew member, B'Elanna?" Harry griped. 

"Well, you don't have any medical training, do you? How do you know that Chakotay's wrong?" B'Elanna asked.

"I've got as much medical training as *he* has, B'El.  Which is to say that he hasn't got any either. No wonder Tom isn't getting better."

"Both the Captain and the Doctor seem content with the situation, Harry."

"The Doctor is a holoprogram, B'El, and as for the Captain - I'm going to go see her myself. Chakotay doesn't have the right to make these decisions."

~~~

"Are you sure I can't get you a drink, Harry?" Kathryn asked, as she dialed her coffee request into the replicator of her ready room.

Harry shuffled nervously on his seat.

"No, thank you, Captain," he replied.

"You've come to see me about Tom, haven't you?" she asked with a soft smile, as she seated herself opposite him.

She chuckled at Harry's look of shock.

"Chakotay said you would probably come to see me," she explained.

Harry flushed with embarrassment.

"Did he, did he complain about me?" he asked in a small voice.

Kathryn looked at him in shock.

"Of course not, Harry. He said it was to your credit that you wanted to mend fences with Tom. He only mentioned your conversation to me because he was concerned you didn't understand *exactly* how ill Tom really is.

"I've seen him myself, Harry, and believe me, I wish I hadn't gone. I want you to remember him the way he used to be. Tom deserves that much," she said sadly. "All any of us can do for him now is to at least leave him his dignity."

"You say that like there's no hope, Captain," Harry challenged.

"The Doctor has been attending him regularly, Harry. He says that there is little likelihood that Tom will ever recover. It's a blessing that Chakotay has agreed to take care of him. I can't imagine anyone else doing it."

"If he's ill, he should be in Sickbay," Harry argued. 

"Ordinarily I would agree with you, but our current crisis proves that that would be an impossibility. The Doctor's program went off line with the Warp malfunction. It's not the first time that his program has been affected by ship-wide damage."

"B'Elanna says he'll be on-line again tomorrow," Harry reminded her.

"I know, Harry. But for the last three days, who would have taken care of Tom?" she asked patiently.

Harry sighed as her words sank in. Maybe it was better for Tom to be in flesh and blood hands, after all. 

"I'm sorry for having bothered you, Captain. I should apologize to the Commander too, I guess."

Kathryn smiled gently.

"It's alright Harry. Both Chakotay and I know that you only had the best intentions. It might be better though, if in future you make sure of your facts before charging into a situation guns blazing."

"Yes, Captain. I'm sorry," Harry repeated, rising to his feet. "I'm sure you'll let me know if the situation changes."

~~~

"I thought you said the Doctor would be on-line by yesterday," Samantha complained. "Naomi *needs* a doctor."

B'Elanna choked back her automatic, bitter response. She knew it was only natural that Sam was upset. Naomi had broken her arm during the ship's desperate escape from the gravimetric pull of the black hole. Although her injury, and those of other crew, had been treated with regenerators, it was hardly surprising that Sam wasn't going to be satisfied until a *real* doctor had proclaimed her daughter cured.

"He *should* have been," B'Elanna explained shortly. "There's a problem with his matrix but I'm restoring it as quickly as I can."

She was too tired and angry to say any more on the subject.

And too scared.

~~~

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his expression completely bewildered.

"What I SAID, Harry. The Doctor's program has been tampered with," B'Elanna spat.

Although they were in the privacy of his own quarters, Harry looked around nervously before replying.

"How do you know? I mean, maybe the glitches in the matrix happened when the system went off line," he offered.

"That could explain the missing data, Harry. It doesn't explain the fact that there are dozens of new sub-routines over-writing his files. Someone has been re-programming him, Harry, on an almost daily basis, for a number of months. It's as though his whole matrix has been infected by a virus."

"Maybe it *is* a virus," Harry replied quietly, only to flinch at her outraged reaction.

"If so, it's a very fucking selective one, Harry. It is only *certain* files that are being constantly erased and replaced. It has been done so brilliantly that it is barely noticeable, but it's there. When the Doctor's program failed to re-initialize, I assumed there were missing pockets of data, so I overlaid an old default over his matrix to highlight the missing files. The differences were so minute that I ran a diagnostic over the whole matrix. It took me four days. But I found it. He's been deliberately tampered with."

"Who by?" Harry asked nervously.

"There's no physical evidence, he was too clever for that, but like I said, only *certain* files have been tampered with, so there's only one logical culprit."

"You sound like Tuvok," Harry laughed. "I don't understand. Why would anyone tamper with the Doctor?"

B'Elanna looked at him in despair, wondering whether he would ever laugh again.

"Who *would* have had a reason to tamper with the Doctor for the last three months, Harry?" she asked.

She watched the realization dawn on Harry's face.

"Fuck. Tell me you're not thinking what I'm thinking," he demanded.

But the despairing look in her eyes only confirmed his horrible suspicion.

"FUCK," he hissed.

"What do we do, Harry?"

"We could go to the Captain," Harry replied. "Or Tuvok, maybe."

"There's no proof, Harry. It's all circumstantial. He'll find a way to squirm out of it. No one will want to believe me. *I* don't want to believe me."

"And if we file a formal complaint, he'll know we're on to him."

"So maybe he'll decide to get rid of the evidence."

"He'd kill Tom," Harry concluded bitterly.

"Maybe. I mean, I heard rumors about Chakotay when I was on the Crazy Horse, only I completely ignored them as spite. What people said just didn't make sense. There was no way I could picture the gentle man that he was, doing the terrible things that they said he had done. I thought they only told the tales to make themselves look more important, like a ruthless Captain was something they were proud of." 

"If we're right, then Ayala and Dalby are in it with him," Harry said. "There's no other explanation."

"And maybe more of the Maquis. Ever since I took the position of Chief Engineer, the Maquis have pretty much cut me out of the loop. Shit. Maybe that's *why* he got me the position. He wasn't sure of my loyalty so he made sure I was kept separate from the other Maquis," B'Elanna spat, her expression of outrage, suddenly shadowed by her own personal pain at Chakotay's betrayal. 

"I'm sure you're wrong. That would only make sense if he had planned this years ago, B'Elanna," Harry said quickly.

"I know. But I remembered that Tom had had a hard time at first. The Maquis all had it in for him. So I went back into the files, right back to the time when the crews merged. And guess what?"

"What?"

"The Doctor was tampered with then, too. I *know* Tom had a number of fights back then. Not only did he admit to me that he had been injured on occasion, but I remember people bragging about having 'taught him a lesson' at the time. It was back when I thought he *was* a pig, so I didn't pay it much attention. But I do know it happened. Only there aren't ANY records that Tom ever received treatment for his injuries. The files haven't just been altered. They've been erased."

"What are we going to do, B'El?" Harry asked despairingly.

"We're going to deal with it ourselves, Harry."

"Confront him directly?" Harry squeaked.

"Not directly, it would warn him, and besides, he wouldn't just calmly wait for us to make a move. We'd probably have an unfortunate accident on our way home."

"You think he'd kill us?" Harry whimpered.

B'Elanna looked at Harry's terrified white face and sighed. She *did* love him, but she suddenly wished he was a bit more of a *man*.  She usually found Harry's lack of confidence endearing. In a crisis like this, however, he was as much a liability as a help.

Nevertheless, you worked with the tools you had and made the best of it, she decided.

"I think that he's capable of anything, Harry. We need to get to Tom ourselves. Get him out of Chakotay's quarters and pray that there is enough left of his mind for him to tell the Captain what's really been going on," she said firmly.

Harry gulped. The idea of breaking into Chakotay's quarters terrified him. Yet he nodded his reluctant agreement. Tom *was* his friend. He remembered that now. Suddenly he remembered a lot of things, like the fact that it had been Chakotay who had whispered the doubts in his head. It had been Chakotay who had left him in no doubt that his chances of promotion depended on him making a *better* choice of friends.

He owed Tom, he decided. An apology, at least, and maybe a hell of a lot more.

Though he couldn't stop himself from asking,

"What if he really *IS* mad?"

"Then we'd better start praying, because if he is then we are probably kissing our jobs AND our lives goodbye."

~~~

The door whispered shut behind Chakotay's back and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had barely kept it together all morning. He thought he had dealt with that annoying little shit Harry Kim. The Captain had assured him that Kim would back off. Yet all morning he had felt the little creep's eyes on him on the bridge, full of speculative hate.

Not that he had said anything. Shit, the wimp had ducked his eyes and pretended to be busy every time that Chakotay had glanced over. Nevertheless, he had seen Kim's expression from the corner of his eyes, had watched the way Kim jumped every time he turned towards him, had felt the eyes sliding away faster than he could turn.

Something was up.

He had kept his usual neutral expression of calm on his own features, had bound his own fear and aggression behind a tight mask of placidity. Yet he burned inside with a rage that boiled so hot that it threatened to erupt and burn the whole bridge crew with its violence.

Simon was in danger.

He had cast his thoughts carefully over the recent weeks, trying to imagine anything that could have given him away. There was nothing. He was sure of that. There was no way any of the stupid Starfleeters could possibly have realized the truth.

Yet still, that volcanic broil of fear continued.

Of all the people on board, Harry Kim was the one person who could betray Simon. He was the only person who had known Tom Paris long enough to realize what Simon had done.

That was why he wouldn't let Simon leave their quarters. 

He felt guilty that he had accused Simon of being a whore. He had known he was hitting below the belt with the comment. It hadn't been Simon's fault that he had been so badly used by the Cardassians and it had been unfair to use Simon's own sense of shame over the abuse to control him.

Yet, drawing on Simon's insecurities in such a brutal way had achieved his desired effect. Simon was no longer asking to leave their quarters, and so he was safe.

Over the last ten days, since Simon's return, Chakotay had realized that Simon seemed to have no idea that he had stolen Paris's body. He was just as sweet and compliant and dumb as he had been before he died. The night before, Chakotay had called out "Tom", just to be sure, and Simon hadn't even blinked. So it seemed that Simon didn't even have any of Tom's memories anymore.

Thomas Eugene Paris had finally been banished to whatever hell he belonged in and Simon was back.

And because Simon was so naturally quiet and submissive, always shrinking from strangers with a fear born of a lifetime of abuse, Chakotay might have risked letting the rest of the crew see him now. They would assume his reticence  was a symptom of "Tom's" illness.

His child-like obedience and obvious adoration of Chakotay could be put down to gratitude for Chakotay's care.

Yet the fact remained, that no matter how hard Chakotay tried to coach Simon to understand the role he would have to play in front of the other crew, Harry Kim would undoubtedly see through it. Somehow he would *know* that Simon wasn't Tom.

And possibly, Kathryn would too.

Chakotay was pretty sure that no-one else would see the difference. It wasn't as though "Tom" would ever be able to work again. Hell, Simon couldn't pilot a bath toy, let alone a starship. But Chakotay wanted to at least be able to parade him on his arm in Sandrine's, maybe even let him kneel at his feet on the bridge during the long shifts.

So, he had a choice of living in perpetual fear that Harry Fucking Kim would expose Simon as an impostor, or do what he should have done right at the beginning, take the ship himself.

Other than Janeway, Kim & Tuvok he didn't think there would be any need for fatalities. The rest of the Starfleet crew would probably welcome the Maquis takeover. Hell, who *wouldn't* prefer to live their lives under Maquis rules?

It wasn't the first time he had contemplated the idea of mutiny. He was sure of the loyalty of *his* people. With the possible exception of B'Elanna, but he was sure that she would come around once the silly cow had gotten Kim out of her system. Best to transport her to the brig for the actual mutiny, though, just in case. It would be a shame to lose a damn good Engineer, but no-one was irreplaceable.

Except Simon.

Chakotay wasn't certain but he was pretty damned sure, that the Spirits wouldn't give Simon a *second* chance to come back from the dead.

No, the Spirits had given him a gift, a second chance, and he wasn't going to throw it away.  Simon's safety was his responsibility and he wasn't going to fail in his duty this time.

If the price of Simon's safety was the death of a few Starfleeters, then so be it.

Having made his decision, Chakotay had surreptitiously commed Ayala and moments later, Ayala had made a public request for counseling. Chakotay had apologetically vacated the bridge to his own office. After they had discussed the swift enactment of his plans, he had left his comm. badge with Ayala and had slipped out, undetected.

It would be at least two hours before anyone questioned why he was still locked in his office with Ayala, and if anyone *did* comm. him, Ayala would patch the call through. As far as the security records went, he was with Ayala.

There was no real reason for this particular subterfuge, since no one would question him saying that Tom needed him. Yet, it was a good way to test that the security systems hadn't been amended to detect life-signs rather than comm. badges. He wouldn't put it past Tuvok to have made some *amendments* to his monitoring program. 

This way he could test the theory without incriminating himself. If Tuvok noticed he had left his office, he could simply say that he had *forgotten* his badge in his hurry to attend Tom. If he *didn't* notice, then the planned gathering in the hydroponics bay that night with his Maquis colleagues would presumably be undetectable.

Yet, even with all his excuses prepared, he had still felt like a thief sneaking through the corridors of Voyager and had nearly collapsed with relief on entering his quarters undetected. His own hammering heart only increased his determination to take over the ship. He would be damned if he'd still be creeping around like a criminal by this time tomorrow.

He walked to the bedroom door, and a smile crept over his face. Simon was still in bed, curled up around a pillow as though clutching a teddy bear, his face relaxed into the innocence of sleep.

He frowned a little at the dark bruises on Simon's hips and ass. The blackened marks marred the perfection of the pale skin. He really needed to try and control himself more. It wasn't Simon's fault that he was such a little pain slut, but Chakotay was angry at himself for having given in again. The truth was that he didn't really want to play Simon's game anymore.

It had been different when it had been Tom Paris, of course. Shit the little bastard had deserved everything that had happened to him. Hell, if he hadn't always been aware that Paris's body would eventually become Simon's then he would have ensured that Tom gave up the ghost earlier. During the Cardassian war, Chakotay had learnt ways to torture that made people beg to die. He could have made Tom Paris vacate his body within days.

Yet all the time, he had known that Simon was in there too. Besides, he hadn't wanted Simon to inherit a *scarred* body. So although eight years had been a long time, it had been worth the wait.

Only now that it *was* Simon, he found himself as unwilling to hurt him as he had been before he died. As much as Ayala assured him that both Simon and Geron had been conditioned by the Cardassians to find sexual release only through a certain level of pain, Chakotay hated the visible marks that their coupling produced.

It seemed sinful to mark such perfection with his own clumsy hands.

Full of sorrow, he leant down and kissed Simon gently on the forehead.  Simon stirred and opened sleepy eyes to meet him. For a moment, the blue eyes blazed with fear, and then recognition dawned and they relaxed to limpid softness. A shy smile crept over Simon's face and he whispered, "Hi, Chakotay."

Chakotay seated himself on the bed and ran a tender hand through Simon's hair.

"Sorry I woke you," he whispered. "I just missed you, wanted to be sure you were okay."

Simon stretched like a cat, unfurling himself from the pillow and arching his head into Chakotay's fingers.

"I missed you too," Tom lied.

After Chakotay had left that morning, Tom had struggled to the bathroom, had repaired the usual rips in his rectum, and had cleaned himself up  but had felt too tired to run the regenerator over the worst of his bruises before creeping back to bed. He hadn't expected Chakotay back before 1800 at least.

He cursed his earlier laziness when Chakotay started to caress his blackened hips with worried, guilty fingers.

"I hurt you again, Simon. I'm sorry, so sorry," Chakotay whispered, his voice choked with tears.

Tom took a deep breath, then plastered a huge smile on his face.

"I loved it, babe. I love you, Chakotay," he purred. He saw Chakotay's brown eyes darken at his words, saw the pulse beginning to throb in Chakotay's neck and the unmistakable tenting of his uniform pants. The fingers paused their caressing and tightened painfully, digging into his narrow hip bones like vices.

"I want you, Simon," Chakotay growled.

Without hesitation, Tom scrambled up onto his hands and knees, spread his legs invitingly and thrust his ass into Chakotay's face.  

"Spirits, you are *such* a slut, Simon," Chakotay laughed, as he quickly stripped his uniform off. "I don't have time for games, I have to get back to work," he warned. 

Tom nearly collapsed in relief. He could cope with a quick fuck. He had expected a thorough paddling first and had been inwardly cringing. He heard Chakotay fumbling in the bedside cabinet and breathed another sigh of relief. The previous evening Chakotay hadn't bothered with lube. Although his ass was so used to Chakotay's cock that his sphincter had given up even trying to resist its entrance, he still tore a little from the violence of Chakotay's habit of always entering him in one merciless thrust.

Tom had become almost immune to that first momentary agony. The fiery blaze of pain was so swiftly followed by the sensation of Chakotay sliding over his prostate that he had lost the ability to tell where the pain ended and the intense pleasure began.

Last night's dry fuck had been a completely different matter. He knew Chakotay hadn't *meant* to hurt him. Chakotay had already fucked him a new asshole before supper, then they had spent the evening watching a vid, Chakotay relaxed in his chair, Tom kneeling at his feet feeling the blood, lube and semen dribbling down his inner thighs. When Chakotay had finally dragged him to bed, he must have assumed that the sticky mess would be sufficient lubrication.

It had felt like he was been torn in half from the inside out. He agony had been so intense that he had panicked and struggled to escape the weapon that was ripping him apart. Chakotay had obviously interpreted his resistance as a *game* and had beaten the shit out of his ass with a leather paddle.

Since Tom had orgasmed so violently that he had passed out, there had been little point trying to explain the nature of Chakotay's misunderstanding. He had simply curled into Chakotay's arms and let the warmth of his now loving embrace chase away the misery in his soul.

Now, as he felt the slimly touch of Chakotay's well-lubed glans at his pucker, he couldn't prevent a low moan of fear as his body spasmed in memory of the last brutal invasion. Fortunately, Chakotay interpreted his moan as desire.

"Don't be greedy, Simon. I don't want to hurt you," Chakotay chided.

Tom choked back a bitter laugh and braced himself for Chakotay's thrust. Instead, with infinite slowness, Chakotay pushed forwards, a mere centimeter at a time, stopping constantly to allow him to adjust to the invasion.

Tom whimpered as Chakotay's velvet-sheathed cock slid slowly home.

*Oh shit,* he thought. *Not like this, please. Don't be kind. I can't bear it when you are kind.*

He tried to thrust his hips back to force the pace, desperate for his own agony to break the spell of Chakotay's flesh. As long as it hurt, as long as it was brutal, as long as Chakotay treated him like a whore or a slave, he could bear it. But when, like now, Chakotay cherished him, when there was nothing but the pleasure, Tom felt his mind would crack apart. If it felt this good, how could it be wrong?

"Please," he begged, squirming desperately. "Hurt me. Please hurt me!"

But Chakotay just chuckled and held his hips firmly to control the slow, languorous strokes of his cock. He crept a well-lubed hand around to lightly grasp Tom's own erection and teased it with the gentle sliding of his fingers.

"Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Tom howled as Chakotay drove him to the brink of madness.

*He's not fucking me. He's making love to me,* Tom realized with despair, and then without breaking his slow rhythm, Chakotay leant down over his quivering back and ran a tongue from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back.

"SHIT!" Tom screamed, and came, his ass frantically clenching at Chakotay's cock, squeezing and milking it until he felt his bowels filled with Chakotay's hot cum.

Tom collapsed to the bed as his knees gave way, and he felt himself drawn into Chakotay's arms. He buried his face in Chakotay's neck, his whole body heaving with bitter sobs.

*I hate you,* he screamed silently, as his tears mingled with Chakotay's sweat-drenched skin, even as his mouth suckled hungrily on the skin of Chakotay's neck.  He burrowed into the comfort of Chakotay's body, it's solidity the only sure reality in this fever-dream of his existence. 

*You've made me love you, you mad bastard, and I hate you for it,* he whimpered silently and wept, hot, helpless tears of self-disgust.

When Chakotay stiffened, Tom panicked, sure that he had said the words out loud. In sudden terror, he began to garble wildly. 

"I'm sorry, Chakotay. I'm sorry. Don't be mad. Don't hurt me. I'm sorry."

Yet the truth was that he didn't give a damn whether Chakotay knocked the shit out of him or not. All he suddenly was horribly aware of was the fact that Chakotay would realize that he *wasn't* Simon after all. As much as it had both angered and terrified him at first that Chakotay was too delusional to even know who he was, and despite the fact that he knew that Chakotay's attempts at kindness weren't even directed at him, but instead were for a ghost, still the thought that Chakotay would never again look at him in that confused state of love and lust, cut him like a vicious knife.

He was too busy drowning in his own panicked confusion to realize that Chakotay's reaction had nothing to do with him at all.

It was only when Chakotay's arms clenched his body with such angry protectiveness that his ribs screamed in protest, that Tom dared to open his eyes, and found himself looking straight into the appalled faces of B'Elanna and Harry.

~~~

As soon as Chakotay had left the bridge, Harry had commed B'Elanna. They had waited until 1300, and realizing that Chakotay was obviously planning to stay in his office for the next hour or so, had taken the opportunity of Harry's lunch break to pay their *visit* to Tom.

For an engineer of B'Elanna's caliber, the bypassing of Chakotay's personal door-lock had been a piece of piss. Her main problem had been in convincing the white-faced Harry that they were doing the right thing.

"What if he goes crazy, B'El, like Chakotay said he would? Maybe he *is* mad. God only knows what Chakotay has been doing to him these last three months."

B'Elanna's face had screwed up in an expression of scorn at his words.

"Kahless, Harry. What the fuck do you *think* he's been doing to him? He's hardly been holding his hand and reading him bedtime stories."

Harry's over-pale features turned a distinct shade of green.

"You mean he's been, he's been, oh fuck!"

"Exactly," B'Elanna had hissed. 

Harry's ass muscles had tightened in empathetic horror. He had shared a communal shower room with Chakotay after enough gym sessions to know that the Commander was hung like the proverbial horse. As much as Chakotay's size had impressed the hell out of him, he remembered concluding that it was also the reason the Commander was celibate. He couldn't imagine *anyone*, male or female, voluntarily allowing that weapon anywhere near them.

Of course, Chakotay seemed to have solved the *voluntary* issue, if B'Elanna was right.

"Let's do it, " he had suddenly barked, unable to bear another moment of not knowing what awaited them on the other side of the door.

So B'Elanna had overridden the lock, the door had whispered open, and they had stepped inside to a nightmare.

~~~

"Don't move," B'Elanna hissed, her phaser locked on Chakotay's chest. "Tom, move away from him, Harry comm. Security."

Chakotay gave a feral growl, pushed Simon behind him, out of the range of the phaser and began to advance down the bed on all fours, snarling like a Targ.

"I said DON'T FUCKING MOVE!" B'Elanna roared, her fingers trembling on the trigger as Chakotay moved with the dangerous grace of a panther.

Chakotay's dark eyes flashed, but he froze in place, careful to ensure that his body was blocking Simon from harm. In an unbelievably calm voice, he began to speak.

"You have broken into my quarters and drawn a weapon on a superior officer, Lieutenant Torres. Do you *really* want to compound your crimes by shooting me?"

He gave a chilling laugh and  relaxed back on his haunches, revealing his naked groin. Even in the limp aftermath of his orgasm, his cock still jutted proudly from his groin with a malevolent promise. As he expected, B'Elanna was momentarily fixated by the sheer size of his cock. He saw her eyes flare as she obviously wondered how much *larger* it grew.  He had seen the reaction enough times to depend on it as sufficient distraction.

Chakotay leapt off the bed, his movement so fast that B'Elanna barely registered his action before he grasped her wrist and wrestled for the phaser. She immediately responded like a hell-cat, amazing him with her physical strength. Despite her half-Klingon heritage, he had made the mistake of disregarding her as a mere woman, and her strong furious punches swiftly proved him wrong.

Tom froze on the bed, his eyes fixated on the grappling couple, flinching with each punch, whether it connected on B'Elanna's body or Chakotay's. After all the months of praying for rescue, now everything was happening too fast, too violently and  he found himself helpless to even move.

And over and over in his head, like a broken recording, he kept replaying the moment that Chakotay had protectively thrust him backwards, and had covered his body with his own.

The fact that B'Elanna had been aiming at Chakotay wasn't the issue. The fact was, that Chakotay had instinctively tried to protect *him*. So perhaps it wasn't *so* surprising that he winced as badly when B'Elanna struck a blow as when Chakotay did.

Before he could reconcile his ambivalence towards his rescuers, the air shimmered and Tuvok materialized, flanked by two security guards. Casting a quick judgmental look at the naked state of both Tom and Chakotay, yet completely disregarding Harry's babbling panic, Tuvok instructed the guards to separate and restrain *both* the protagonists.

It proved impossible for the two men to successfully separate Chakotay and B'Elanna. Both fought the guards as violently as they did each other. In the end, Tuvok stepped in and applied a nerve-pinch to B'Elanna, freeing the two guards to restrain the Commander.

Chakotay roared with the fury of a wild beast as his arms were twisted behind his back and quickly secured. Yet, as soon as he realized the futility of his struggles, a shutter of calm shot down over his features with unnatural speed, and he turned calmly to Tuvok.

"Thank you for your assistance, Tuvok. These two," and he nodded his head at B'Elanna's still body and Harry's gibbering panic, "broke into my quarters and attacked me."

"Evidently, Commander. The question remains, however, as to *why* they attacked you," Tuvok replied coldly.

"Jealousy," Chakotay pronounced calmly. "When Tom had his breakdown they both turned their backs on him. Now he is beginning to feel a little better, and has embarked on a romantic relationship with me, they are reacting out of nothing more than plain jealousy." 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow doubtfully. He did not believe it was quite ethical to engage in sexual relations with a person who was mentally ill, but the logical approach would have been for Kim and Torres to raise a complaint with the Captain, rather than physically attack Chakotay. The only crime, other than a possible moral one, seemed to be the actions of Lieutenants Kim and Torres.

He decided to release the Commander. It would be up to the Captain and the Doctor to decide whether the relationship between Chakotay and Tom Paris could continue.

Harry watched in disbelief as Tuvok gestured to the guards to release Chakotay's restraints.

"What about Tom?" he demanded furiously. "You aren't seriously going to allow *that* bastard to keep raping him, are you?"

Tuvok turned to him in surprise. Rape was a completely different issue. He had assumed that Chakotay and Tom were engaged in a consensual relationship. Although, of course, if Tom was mentally deranged, it could be construed as statutory rape anyway.  He gave a quick gesture that froze the security guards in their act of releasing Chakotay, and turned towards Tom.

Tom was pale and shaking, his hands nervously fluttering in front of his exposed groin, yet other than the obvious shock, which could easily be explained by the violence he had just witnessed, he looked better than Tuvok remembered. His hair was freshly washed, the dark circles that had shadowed his eyes were gone, and he had regained most of the weight that he had lost before his breakdown. He had lost some muscle tone, but that was to be expected given his lack of exercise. All in all, Tom looked vibrantly healthy,

Carefully, since he was aware of the Captain's standing order that Tom was not to be put under stress, Tuvok asked, "Is your relationship with the Commander consensual, Lieutenant?"

Tom looked helplessly at Chakotay and saw the older man's smug grin. Even bound naked, surrounded by security guards, Chakotay's supreme confidence was like a dash of cold water over Tom's hopes. 

*The Captain knows,* he told himself, *so Tuvok probably knows too. This is a trap. A test.*

Facing Chakotay's confident smirk, and Tuvok's pitiless stare, he couldn't believe anything else.

"Yes," he whispered, bowing his head in defeat. "I love Chakotay."

Since the Commander was restrained, there was no reason for Tuvok to believe that Tom was under any pressure to agree. In fact, he was pleasantly surprised by the lucidity of Tom's response and Tuvok put his bowed head and low voice down to embarrassment about his confession.

"Release -," Tuvok began, only to be interrupted by Harry's scream of defiance.

"Are you fucking BLIND, Tuvok?" he roared.

Of course, he had seen Tom *before* Chakotay had thrust him backwards out of the way.

"He's been beaten black and blue, Tuvok," Harry raged. 

Tuvok looked again at Tom. There wasn't a mark on him. He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"His ASS, Tuvok. Just look at his fucking ass, PLEASE," Harry begged, tears of frustration beginning to roll down his cheeks.

It was only logical to check, Tuvok decided, although he was beginning to believe that the only mentally deranged people in these quarters were Kim and Torres. He approached Tom, noting the way he flinched at his approach.

"Turn over please," he asked as gently as possible.

Tom's cheeks flamed and he looked helplessly at Chakotay. He shuddered at the flare of violence that was now emanating from Chakotay's eyes.

"Turn over please," Tuvok repeated more firmly.

Tom flinched, but complied, sitting up and then bending forwards on his hands and knees to expose his ass.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," O'Halloran hissed, then reached swiftly for his phaser and trained it on Chakotay.

Looking equally sick, Bennett took position to cover Chakotay from the other side.

Feeling desperately ashamed at his failure to check Harry Kim's accusations properly, Tuvok comforted himself that he had, at least, brought security guards who weren't Maquis.

"Transport the *Commander* to the brig," he ordered, "but do *not* make any log entries regarding this incident. Seal the doors and keep a communications blackout until I have spoken to the Captain."

"Aye, Sir," O'Halloran replied, taking hold of one of Chakotay's biceps.

Suddenly Chakotay went wild, twisting his body to escape and he ran towards Tuvok, lowering his head like a charging bull.

"SIMON," he roared.

The double-phaser fire hit him simultaneously in the back and he collapsed at Tuvok's feet.

"Shame they were set on stun," O'Halloran hissed, dragging Chakotay to his feet and holding him for the site-to-site transport. "Poor little bastard," he added, looking at Tom, then in a shimmer of a transporter beam they were gone.

"Tuvok to the Doctor, please lock onto my location and proceed here directly for a medical emergency," the Vulcan snapped into his comm. badge.

"Why aren't you taking him to Sickbay?" Harry demanded. "And why the hell are you keeping *his* arrest quiet?"

"Because, until we know who else knew what was going on here, we cannot discount the possibility of a mutiny, Lieutenant. Chakotay is the leader of the Maquis. We cannot assume that *any* of them can be trusted."

Harry bit back his anger and nodded solemnly. Tuvok was right. God help Tom if the Maquis acted to release Chakotay and he somehow ended up free again, or maybe even in charge of Voyager. The thought alone made Harry shudder.

"I'm pretty certain that Ayala and Dalby knew," he said.

"Then as soon as I have informed the Captain, I shall talk to them," Tuvok promised.

~~~

"It is most regrettable that I did not give immediate credence to Lieutenant Kim's accusations," Tuvok stated. His Vulcan mask of impassiveness didn't falter but Kathryn could detect a discernable note of embarrassment in his tone.

"Why should you have?" she replied bitterly. "I am a Starfleet Captain. I'm responsible for the health and well-being of everyone on board. He fooled *me*, Tuvok. For nearly six years I nurtured a nest of vipers. I was blind Tuvok. It's unforgivable."

"Commander Chakotay's talent for deception has indeed fooled us both, Captain. Despite my original concerns regarding the merging of the two crew, he has never once, by word or deed, given any credence to those suspicions. I allowed myself to become complacent. Given my experience of the Commander's impeccable behavior, it became illogical to entertain suspicion regarding his activities. When I entered his quarters, despite the obvious evidence of a sexual liaison between the Commander and Lieutenant Paris, it did not even occur to me that there was anything amiss," Tuvok confessed. 

"Poor Tom," Kathryn sighed. "He trusted me, Tuvok. He believed in me, and I turned him over to that monster and never once suspected anything. I don't deserve to be the Captain of this ship. How could I have been so damned stupid?"

"We were all deceived, Captain. Your judgment was no more at fault than that of anyone else on this ship. The Commander's tampering with the Doctor was a masterful subterfuge. The situation could not have happened under normal circumstances. Had we a *real* doctor, the Commander's plan could not have been effected," Tuvok reminded her.

"B'Elanna says there is no way to restore the Doctor's original files. There is nothing but circumstantial evidence. Now that the Doctor is back on line and functioning correctly, he has confirmed that Tom has possibly suffered a number of injuries over the past months. Despite the regeneration he has a build up of internal scar tissue that suggests a catalogue of abuse. Even so, Tom's medical records show evidence of similar injuries going back a number of years and it is impossible to definitely state which scars are recent." 

"There is not sufficient evidence to charge Chakotay," Tuvok agreed solemnly.

Kathryn's eyes sparked with her impotent fury.

"I will NOT allow him to get away with it, Tuvok. There has to be a way of proving what has been going on," she snarled.

"I have questioned both Ayala and Dalby, at Lieutenant's Kim's suggestion, and am equally certain that they are being dishonest in their protestations of innocence. However, they are either loyal to Chakotay or more probably simply protecting themselves from charges. The Commander maintains that his relationship with Mr. Paris is consensual and that the injuries are consistent with a mutually satisfactory sexual deviance."

Kathryn rubbed her face tiredly. "I fail to comprehend how anyone could find it sexually satisfying to beat their partner to a bloody pulp, Tuvok."

"Personal sexual practices vary not only from species to species, but encompass a huge spectrum within each species. It is because of the need for tolerance of those differences that they are not subject to Starfleet regulations, Captain. Regardless of his physical injuries, unless independent evidence comes to light or Mr. Paris confirms that he was being held involuntarily by the Commander, there are no charges that I can bring."

"Why *won't* he talk to me, Tuvok? Why won't he talk to anyone?" Kathryn demanded.

"Shock, perhaps, or fear of reprisal. It is possible that he is unable to judge whether he can trust any of us. It would seem improbable to him that we were unaware of the situation, in which case he is unlikely to say anything that will incriminate the Commander. There is also the possibility that he has developed genuine feelings of attachment towards him," Tuvok replied. 

"That's crazy," Kathryn spat.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, it would be a most *human* reaction to his situation. Given the absolute power that Chakotay wielded over him, it would have been logical for Mr. Paris to develop ambivalent feelings. To survive he would have had to learn to *please*. His whole existence would have revolved around attempting to create a bond between himself and his captor. The Commander was not only the source of his pain, but also his only source of comfort, food and solace.

"Lieutenant Torres's description of the way Mr. Paris behaved with Crewman Dalby, before his alleged breakdown, suggests that he does respond sexually to a certain level of violence. If that is true, then it would have been difficult for him to differentiate between what was rape and what was consensual. If the rape resulted in his own orgasm, he would have quickly lost the ability to distinguish between pain and pleasure.

"To be able to anticipate what would prevent the Commander's violence, Mr. Paris would have had to learn to think like him, to empathize with him, and in so doing, he will have lost the ability to distance himself. People only truly hate what they do not understand. In learning to understand the Commander's motivations, Mr. Paris would inevitably have found some sympathy for his position.

"Furthermore, given his own lack of self-confidence, and the guilt that he still bears over his past, Mr. Paris possibly believes that he deserved the abuse," Tuvok concluded.

"So the fact that Tom keeps insisting that he loves Chakotay, could actually be the truth, rather than something he is saying through fear?" Kathryn asked in despair.

"Indeed. However, whichever explanation is true, neither is a rational response. It is imperative that Tom sees Chakotay punished for his actions, so that he can understand that they *were* wrong and that we did not condone them."

"I know how you feel about mind-melds, Tuvok. You made your position clear before Tom moved in with Chakotay. However, I cannot see any other way to get to the bottom of what has happened. Without the facts, we cannot press charges. Unless we have evidence, the Maquis will rebel and support Chakotay. We have to be able to prove to *them* that Chakotay has acted improperly."

"My original reservations about enforced mind-melds remain, Captain," Tuvok replied. "However, had I done as you suggested at the time, then Mr. Paris would not have been subjected to the Commander's abuse. I will comply."

~~~

"Tom?"

"Yes, Captain?" he replied softly, although his knuckles whitened as he grasped the blanket and he pulled it tighter around him like armor.

Although he had now been moved from Chakotay's quarters to sickbay, he was still uncertain whether he had been rescued or not. Everyone *seemed* to be saying the right things, but he had learned the hard way that Chakotay's eyes and ears were everywhere.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that this was an elaborate ruse, and he was being extremely careful not to say anything wrong. He had decided that it would be only natural to respond to the name of "Tom" though. He couldn't imagine Chakotay wanting him to call himself "Simon" in public.

Yet, still, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. What is this really *was* a rescue and his constant, fear-filled assertions that he loved Chakotay caused him to be given back?

"I wanted to tell you this myself, before you heard it from Harry," Kathryn replied, sitting carefully on the edge of the bio-bed.

He flinched a little as she sat. He turned his dull blue eyes to meet hers but couldn't hold the gaze. She saw his head droop and he began to pick at invisible threads on the blanket.

"I know what happened to you now and I am so sorry, Tom. Gregor Ayala, Michael Smith and Kenneth Dalby have been charged with Rape and Grievous Bodily Harm, Tom. They have been confined to the brig where they will remain until their trial. They can't hurt you anymore. No one will *ever* hurt you anymore, I promise."

Tom jerked and looked up, his face filled with confused hope,  yet he was too cautious still to reply. Mistaking the reason for his silence, Kathryn hastened to explain.

"There is no doubt about their guilt, Tom, but a public trial is necessary so that the other crew-members know without doubt that they *are* guilty. I know that what happened to you is terrible, and that you would probably rather it remain secret. But there is no shame in this for you. You did nothing wrong. You were the victim, Tom. I assure you that no-one will think any less of you. The only shame on Voyager is that of the rest of us, for letting this happen to you."

"What about Chakotay?" Tom asked cautiously.

Kathryn sighed. This was the hardest part. She couldn't possibly let Tom think that Chakotay wasn't to be punished, but, still, she couldn't ignore Tuvok's findings either.

She took Tom's right hand in her own and gently massaged his fingers.

"Chakotay is ill, Tom. Mentally unstable. He can't be tried. By Starfleet Law, he would be found not guilty by reason of insanity. He's delusional, Tom. That doesn't in any way justify or excuse his actions, but legally it does make a difference. Ayala, Smitty and Dalby all knew exactly what they were doing. They took advantage of Chakotay's illness, in an attempt to force him into a position where he would start a mutiny and take over Voyager.

"I don't know whether this makes it worse or better, but their abuse of you was never personal, Tom. It was calculated to make Chakotay act in a certain way. They were like puppet-masters, feeding Chakotay's delusions to grab control for themselves. With Chakotay as Captain and consumed by his obsession by you, or should I say Simon, they would have effectively been in charge."

"Simon," Tom repeated bleakly. 

"I'm sure that the Doctor can explain the details to you better, Tom, but Chakotay is suffering from a form of Psychosis. He has been living in a border-line delusional state for years, since the death of this Simon. Ayala and the others began to fuel the psychosis after we had that incident with Captain Ransom. Instead of being appalled by his actions, they decided that he was right, that any cost was worth paying to get home.

"My own alienation with Chakotay over the incident, only served to play into their hands. Perhaps it even gave them the idea of using you to drive the wedge deeper between Chakotay and I. "

"Can he be cured?" Tom interrupted quietly.

"What?" Kathryn asked in surprise.

"Chakotay, can he be cured?"

"He has a severe chemical imbalance, Tom. The Doctor believes it originated from a Cardassian air-borne viral weapon that he was exposed to during the raid that freed Geron and Simon. Tuvok is talking to Geron now, trying to establish more details of exactly what form of experimentation went on in that Cardassian camp. It seems that Chakotay was suffering from the infection at the time of Simon's death. That's why his delusions became specific to Simon, and by default you."

"You didn't answer my question," Tom said dully.

"Yes, Tom. The Doctor believes he can isolate the infected areas of Chakotay's brain, the places where his delusions originate, and can cure him. The problem is, that we can't put him on trial without curing him first, and if we do cure him, would it be fair to then prosecute him for something he did when he was insane?

"I have to discuss this with *you*, Tom because I cannot let you think that your own suffering is in any way less important than his. YOU are the victim here, even if Chakotay was not responsible for his actions. If you need him to be punished, and god knows I will understand if you do, then perhaps it would be better for us *not* to attempt the cure. At least that way the man who is punished will be the man who committed the crime.

"After the trial, Ayala, Smith and Dalby will be left on a suitable uninhabited planet. I cannot condone a corporal punishment, and am unwilling to keep them in the brig for the duration of the journey, so they will be left behind. As for Chakotay, his fate is in your hands Tom. If you cannot bear to see him again, if you can't face the idea of him remaining on board, I suggest that we simply leave him with the others."

"Without a trial?" Tom demanded, both relieved and shocked by the suggestion.

Kathryn shrugged unhappily.

"After the trial of the others, everyone will know what Chakotay did. There will be no protest from the rest of the crew. It is not even necessary for us to admit to his illness being the cause. That's why the others haven't been charged with attempted mutiny. "

"You'd do that for me? Just leave him behind?" Tom asked uncertainly.

"Tom, there is *nothing* I can ever do to make up for my lack of judgment. I placed you in the hands of a mad man, and walked away. I failed you. I failed him. But, at this point, it is you I am most concerned about. I need you to realize that we were blind, stupid and arrogant, but that we didn't know, we didn't condone his treatment of you and that you can stop being afraid.

"Admit that you hate him. Hell, you can tell me you hate me, I wouldn't blame you, and for God's sake, stop believing that any of this was your fault. It wasn't. You didn't deserve this. No-one could possibly deserve what happened to you."

"If he is cured, will he, will he remember what he did?" Tom mumbled.

"The Doctor isn't positive, although he says the likelihood is that he will remember what he has done." 

Tom shuddered. 

"That would be worse, wouldn't it?" he finally muttered.

"Chakotay being sane but having to face the guilt of his actions?"

"Yeah," Tom confirmed, biting his lower lip.

"I think it would be terrible, Tom. I don't believe that he would be able to live with the memories, especially not if he was seeing you every day. So even if you could deal with him staying on board, I don't believe it would work. It would be best, all round, to leave him with the others, I think."

She waited patiently as he absorbed her words. Emotions chased over his pale features like storm clouds; hate, fear, uncertainty, sorrow and finally resignation.

"When are you going to do it?" Tom asked.

"I think the sooner the better, Tom. The crew are already up in arms, wondering what's going on. We have located a planet which appears suitable and will arrive there later today. If it proves viable, then it should all be over by this time tomorrow."

"Thank you, Captain," Tom whispered. "I think I'd like to sleep now, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, Tom. I'll advise the Doctor not to proceed with the operation. Try and get some rest. If you want me for *anything*, don't hesitate to call me."

~~~

"Geron says he's going too," Harry admitted nervously.

Tom just gave a weary smile.

"Of course he is," he answered. "He loves Greg."

"It's crazy," Harry spat. 

"Yeah," Tom agreed, but he'd truly never expected anything else. As soon as the Captain had mentioned that Ayala would be banished to the planet, he had *known* that Geron would insist on going too. And since Ayala didn't seem to mind sharing, maybe Chakotay would eventually get over the absence of "Simon."

It had been the thing that had bothered him most. The Captain's decision had made sense. Shit, he could barely face the memories of Caldik Prime, and he had been responsible for what had happened. How the hell would Chakotay live with the memory of the last three months?

He had seen enough of the gentle side of Chakotay to know that under the madness there was a man of intense pride and deep compassion. How could *that* Chakotay face the demons that had lurked in his own soul and survive?

He knew that Harry and B'Elanna were mad with him for not demanding his pound of flesh. They couldn't understand why he wasn't champing at the bit, screaming his outrage, demanding vengeance. They said he should insist that Chakotay was forced to face up to his actions. Yet, how could hurting Chakotay mend his own wounds? Would Chakotay's pain erase his own? Could the ripping of Chakotay's soul help mend the tatters of his own? He didn't believe so.

To be honest, all he wanted to do was sleep some more. He wanted to escape from reality into dreams until it was all over. He didn't want to wake up until the planet, and Chakotay, were reduced to an old log entry. Maybe he simply didn't want to *ever* wake up again.

Yet Chakotay haunted his dreams. Since the Captain had suggested that Chakotay simply be left behind, he could see nothing when he closed his eyes but Chakotay's maddened face screaming "SIMON" as the phasers cut him down.

"Harry, would you ask the Captain to visit me if she has time?" he asked quietly.

"Sure, Tom," Harry replied, looking worriedly at Tom's white face, and deciding it had been a mistake to mention the Bajoran.

~~~

"It's not right, Captain," Tom said slowly.

"What isn't?"

"Making Chakotay live without Simon. Letting him worry forever what is happening to him."

"Tom, there *is* no Simon," Kathryn replied carefully.

"I know that, Captain, but *he* doesn't," Tom replied. "It's not fair. He's ill. If he was bleeding to death you wouldn't refuse to treat him, you wouldn't leave him in pain. There's no difference. You know he's ill, you know the cure, you have to do it."

"And what if the cure proves fatal, Tom? What if he literally can't live with the memories?"

Tom shrugged.

"I don't know," he confessed. "All I know is that you can't allow him to keep his delusions about Simon. He really loves him. Losing him again would break his heart and that's not punishment, that's just cruelty.  If the only way to remove his feelings for Simon is to cure him completely, then maybe the Doctor could remove his memory of the last few months at the same time. I can cope with that. Hell, it won't be like he will hurt me again, will it? After he has forgotten Simon, and my resemblance to him, the real Chakotay probably won't even notice I exist."

"Tom, I have to ask you this. *Do* you love Chakotay?" Kathryn asked worriedly. The generosity of Tom's offer wasn't natural in her opinion.

Tom gave a bitter laugh.

"I'm not the crazy one, Captain, remember? He's a sadistic fuck. I hate him." he barked. 

"You *did* tell me you loved him, Tom," Kathryn reminded him gently.

"I was confused. I thought, I thought you *knew*," Tom confessed. "I was just scared."

Kathryn squeezed his shoulder. 

"I *should* have known, Tom. I'm glad that you are feeling better though and beginning to gain some perspective. We were concerned that you had really begun to feel something for Chakotay. It's a natural reaction under the circumstances. Only it would concern me greatly if it was true."

"No fear of that, Captain. I have a far too well-developed sense of self-preservation," Tom replied blithely, finally rewarding her with a pale shadow of his old cocky smirk.

Relieved, she patted his shoulder awkwardly and rose to her feet.

"I'll talk to the Doctor. Perhaps there is a way of curing the delusions AND inhibiting his memories. Could you live with that though, Tom? Chakotay remaining on board but never knowing what he did to you?"

"You'd have to re-think the trial, Captain. Maybe you should just charge them with mutiny and leave them behind. Leave me out of the equation completely. Only Harry, B'El, Geron, you and Security know what happened. Perhaps you should leave it that way. If Chakotay stays on board, the rest of the Maquis will stay in line. It's the best solution."

Kathryn re-evaluated the situation quickly. Tom was right. It would be cleaner this way. Tom would never have to face the pity of the rest of the crew. Chakotay would never have to face the guilt of actions he had never had any control over. The bad elements would be eradicated and Voyager could move on. Tom's bravery astounded her, however.  Six hours ago she had doubted he would ever be able to function again. He had been curled in a terrified ball, flinching from her approach, desperately trying to assure her that he *loved* Chakotay in obvious fear that she was part of an elaborate deception.

Yet a few hours later, he was sane, rational and offering her a solution that they could hopefully all live with. A solution in which the only cost would be paid by Tom Paris himself as he pretended that nothing had happened, as he daily faced a man who would have no memory of torturing him

"You're a brave and good man, Tom," she said.

He flushed. "Well, like I said, I'm the consummate survivor, Captain," he joked.

She was a little disconcerted by his humor, by his very calmness. She would have to arrange for Tuvok to call by and see him, she decided. Surprisingly, Tuvok seemed to have a clear grasp of the possible mental effects of the type of experience Tom had suffered. Perhaps he would be able to see through Tom's mask of calmness. She had lost confidence in her own ability to accurately read another's soul, yet had a feeling that a lot more was going on behind Tom's eyes than his bland expression suggested.

She would, however, take Tom's suggestion and act on it. While there would probably be a price to pay further down the line, at the moment, it seemed the only viable option.

Tom waited until the door whispered shut behind her before he began to cry.

~~~

"I don't care if it was Tom's idea. You can't honestly expect us to just pretend nothing happened, Captain," B'Elanna roared, surging to her feet in agitation. 

Kathryn disregarded the breach of protocol. It was best that tempers were aired here in the privacy of her ready room than allowed to fester.

"Chakotay was sick, B'Elanna. He didn't know what he was doing," she explained again.

"Too damned right he's sick. Dalby told me everything," she hissed. "What Chakotay and those other bastards did to Tom is past sick, it's disgusting."

"Well that explains Crewman Dalby's black eyes," the Doctor muttered.

"Did you know that Chakotay used to make Tom piss himself, and then beat him for it? That he told Dalby to give him nightly enemas with the high-pressure maintenance hose? That there were times when the beatings were so bad that Tom couldn't even walk?" B'Elanna screamed to the room in general.

"Tom never told me that," Harry muttered, his golden skin turning puce.

"That's exactly my point. I know, Tuvok knows and presumably you know all the details, Captain. But Tom isn't admitting anything except the fact that he was held captive and raped. Come to think of it, he's never said that word either. He just says that Chakotay had sex with him. So if he can't face what happened to him, if he is blocking it out, how can you accept his suggestion to let Chakotay walk free? If Tom can't face his own memories, how the hell is he going to face Chakotay?" B'Elanna demanded.

"I agree that Mr. Paris still must come to terms with his experiences," Tuvok agreed solemnly. "He will continue to attend counseling sessions until such time as he can face the experience rather than continue his current state of denial. However, he is a resilient young man. Our acceding to his wishes, with regard to the treatment of the Commander, is the first step in regaining his trust. The issue here is not only the Commander's actions, but our own lack of action." 

B'Elanna sat down abruptly, her rage dampened by a wave of shame. Tuvok was right. A lot of her aggression came from her own feelings of failure. She had turned her back on Tom, had virtually thrown him into Chakotay's waiting arms. Her own memory of striking Tom in the Mess hall haunted her constantly.

"Besides, B'Elanna. Chakotay has no memory at all of the events. As far as he is aware, Ayala staged an attempted mutiny, and he himself suffered a head injury when he attempted to stop it. He has accepted that injury as the reason for his occasional memory gaps and is ready to resume his duties," Kathryn added.

"Oh yeah, Chakotay the hero," B'Elanna spat, her ire sparked back into flame. "Even if you had to cover up what he did to Tom, did you really need to make out that he saved the ship from this so-called mutiny?"

"It was necessary to ratify the decision to put the "mutineers" off the ship. It was important to ensure that none of the former-Maquis objected to the closed trial and the most efficient way to ensure that was Chakotay's clear alliance with the Captain during the supposed incident. Our primary objective was to secure the safety of the ship," Tuvok explained unrepentantly.

"How do you know he isn't acting, still?" Harry demanded. 

"I assure you I was most thorough with my operation," the Doctor huffed.

"I wasn't suggesting you weren't. But none of us saw through him before. How do we know that he can be trusted? I mean, how do we know that a sane Chakotay is any more trustworthy than an insane one?" Harry continued doggedly.

"We don't," the Captain confessed reluctantly. "I would like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Tom's safety and that of the whole ship must come first. I authorized the placement of a monitoring device in the back of Chakotay's skull. It will allow us to monitor him constantly, whether he wears a comm. badge or not. We will always know where he is. I also asked the Doctor to place one in Tom," she added, raising her hands placatingly against the outrage of B'Elanna and Harry.

"Tom's device is not to monitor his behavior. It is linked only to Chakotay's signal. Any time that the two of them are within touching distance, Tuvok will be alerted to monitor the situation."

"Does Tom know about the device?" Harry asked.

"No. I believe it would alienate him, make him feel that I am doubting his decision to allow Chakotay to remain on board. Tom is fragile enough, at the moment, without him feeling that we don't trust him.  My only concern here is for his safety, but I doubt he will fully understand that at the moment, so I have not told him about either device and I trust that you will not betray my confidence."

B'Elanna and Harry nodded grimly, but Harry couldn't stop himself from muttering "It sucks," in a near whisper.

"Indeed it does "suck" Harry," Kathryn agreed, trying not to smile at Harry's embarrassed blush. 

"However, there is another reason we have fitted the devices.  While I do not normally concern myself in the private relationships of the crewmembers, I would be most disturbed if in ignorance of his previous actions, Chakotay should make any physical advances towards Tom. The fact that Tom so closely resembles the appearance of "Simon" suggests that if Chakotay is attracted to a particular physical type, then Tom is likely to draw his attention. Should that happen, I need to be in a position to intervene before Tom panics," she explained, deciding not to mention her fear that "panic" wouldn't be Tom's reaction. She couldn't trust Tom's ability to understand his own feelings towards Chakotay, and certainly would not allow the Pilot to make such a tragic mistake as to become involved with Chakotay again, under any circumstances.

Oblivious to the possibility that Tom might harbor anything but terror of Chakotay, B'Elanna and Harry both shuddered as they imagined how Tom might react under the circumstances, and this time they met Kathryn's stare with tacit approval for her subterfuge.

"When is Tom returning to duty?" Harry asked.

"I believe that the sooner Mr. Paris returns to the helm, and faces the Commander, the better," the Doctor stated emphatically. 

"Half-shifts at first," Kathryn clarified. "We need to let Tom know that we trust his ability to fly, without placing him under undue stress. He spent this morning on the holodec, flying a simulation and interacting with a hologram of Chakotay. After some initial nervousness, he performed admirably. As long as the real Chakotay acts in a purely professional manner towards him, I have faith in Tom's ability to pull this off. I trust that none of you will let him down by letting your own feelings interfere with your duties. If Tom can attempt to forgive Chakotay, then none of us have the right to be so self-indulgent as to allow our own personal feelings to show.

"Please bear in mind that Chakotay has no idea of what he has done. Any coldness or antipathy from you will cause him to question your behavior. I will not allow Tom's self-sacrifice to be in vain. We are a long way from home, we need everyone to pull together if we are going to survive. We need Chakotay. Try and remember that this Chakotay has done nothing wrong. Dismissed."

~~~

Tom was proud of his performance on the holodec. Aware that he was being closely monitored, he greeted the hologram of Chakotay with aplomb, seated himself at the "helm" and proceeded to run through a series of simulated situations.

Admittedly the hairs on the nape of his neck crawled constantly as he pictured Chakotay's dark eyes boring into the back of his head and he successfully disproved the manufacturers claims regarding his underarm deodorant. He could feel sweat pooling in his armpits and the middle of his back. Wearing clothes at all had become so unfamiliar that the additional friction of the spreading patches of damp gave him the bizarre urge to strip his uniform top off completely.

Yet, other than nearly jumping out of his skin when the holo-Chakotay suddenly appeared at his shoulder to peer down at his console, Tom knew that his performance had been stellar. Admittedly his stats were lower than they had ever been, but they still made Hamilton look like a raw cadet in comparison, so he was confident that he would be cleared to fly.

It was all he could think about. Flying again. Escaping just for a few hours the hell of his own thoughts and simply being, simply doing the one thing that he could do without thought, without doubt. Even if he did have to share the bridge with Chakotay's eyes.

He retired to bed early, unable to face the thought of visiting the mess hall, let alone the holodecs. Fortunately, the Captain had been kind enough to credit his ration account with a suspiciously large amount. Guilt money, probably. Yet since it allowed him to eat alone for the foreseeable future he decided to quietly accept the offering.

Besides, he felt guilty too. He had lied to the Captain. Had lied to everyone, come to think of it. If silence could be construed as a lie.

Because it was all very well for them to believe that Ayala, Smitty and Dalby had orchestrated Chakotay's behavior. It had, at least, ensured that Chakotay could stay on board. But the truth was, that Chakotay had been controlling him for years. Without wiping out the last eight years of Chakotay's life, how the hell could the Doctor fully eradicate Chakotay's memories since the thought of Simon had evidently consumed every moment of those eight years?

Only for those eight years, it had been his face that Chakotay had seen.

If the Doctor had truly removed every memory of Simon, Chakotay's brain would look like Swiss Cheese. The very fact that Chakotay would be returning to duty tomorrow proved conclusively to Tom that Chakotay's "chemical imbalance" might have been cured, and with it, hopefully, his uncontrolled mood swings, his cruelty and his hatred for Tom Paris but underneath he must still retain his feelings for Simon.

Because Chakotay's love for Simon had been real. The other things he had done were irrelevant. Chakotay had never hurt Simon. He had only hurt Tom. He had struck out at Tom in the madness of his grief. Simon he had cherished. He had raped Tom, but he had made love to Simon. And when B'Elanna had pointed her phaser, Chakotay hadn't hesitated to protect Simon with his very life.

And because the memory of the real Simon had gone, surely Chakotay would now believe that since Tom's face represented those feelings, that the feelings were really for him. 

Somewhere, the man who loved Simon still existed and Tom was going to find him.

But this time, he was going to ensure that the name Chakotay cried out in passion was "Tom".

~~~

Chakotay was feeling oddly unsettled as he sat in his command chair on the Bridge. He had been aware of Kathryn's surreptitious glances all morning and Harry Kim had looked definitely uncomfortable when they had met in the turbolift on the way to shift. The gaps in his memory troubled him greatly, and evidently were a matter of concern for other people too. Maybe he should have taken the couple of extra days sick leave that the Captain had offered, he pondered.

It wasn't like amnesia, exactly. He still knew who he was, and why he was on Voyager rather than the Crazy Horse. He remembered the rest of Voyager's crew, well most of them anyway, and had numerous specific memories of the various adventures and encounters that they had experienced together. Yet, like a broken jigsaw puzzle, there were a vast number of gaps in his memories.

For instance, he could remember the Caretaker's array, and Ocampa, but he couldn't remember anything of the first couple of weeks on Voyager when the crew first merged. He could remember Harry Kim being a naive, sweet-natured Ensign, but hadn't the faintest idea how he had turned into a brash lieutenant who was apparently shacked up with B'Elanna Torres and had developed some chip on his shoulder judging by his brusque manner in the lift.

Yet the weirdest thing of all was that although he "remembered" Tom Paris, he had been momentarily stunned when the pilot had nervously scuttled across the bridge to take his place at the helm, reaching his post with scant seconds to spare. Tom's tardiness hadn't surprised him. He had a clear memory that time-keeping was not one of the pilot's strengths. No, what had amazed him was that he had met Tom in the Maquis, had served with him on Voyager for six years, and he had never once actually seen him before.

Shit! Tom Paris was a babe! Damn, maybe it had taken a knock on his head for him to see clearly for the first time in years. Tom Paris was six foot three of long-legged, blond SEX.

But it wasn't just the change in Tom's appearance that bothered him. It was more than that. The pilot's mannerisms were wrong. Chakotay's memories insisted that Tom was a big-mouthed, cocky, arrogant bastard. Yet the evidence before his eyes denied those memories, convincing him that he wasn't only suffering from memory gaps but from an altered state of reality.

Hell, how could Tom have ever been perceived by him as anything other than the  shy, nervous young man that he evidently was?

It was as though he was looking at his past through a lens of distortion, where everything was just a tiny bit off-kilter. Somehow his mind had gotten Harry and Tom mixed up. Obviously, Harry Kim had always been the brash, brusque man he had disliked, and Tom was the naive one whom he felt protective towards.

The blow to his head hadn't given him false memories, it had just jumbled them up.  

He wondered whether he should discuss these new symptoms with the Doctor, but decided that it would only cause Kathryn to worry even more about him. He was constantly aware that she was glancing at him from the corner of her eyes and that Tuvok, despite his typically professional manner, was also keeping a quiet vigil.

The Doctor had assured him that although he had probably lost certain memories for good, that the neural pathways of his brain would quickly learn to circumnavigate the gaps and would close them up until he was barely aware of the problem. The same healing process would undoubtedly deal with the memories that were "wrong".

All he had to do was deal with people as he currently found them, and ignore his own obviously faulty recollections. Perhaps the best way to start the healing process would be to spend a little time with the real Tom Paris. Surely his interaction with the blond would quickly dispel Harry Kim's face from his memory. 

He chuckled quietly. Who was he trying to fool? He didn't want to spend time with Tom Paris for medical reasons. The only playing Doctor he had in mind was of a completely different nature.

Spirits, why the hell hadn't he made a move on the pilot before now?

~~~

Tom was barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. He knew that Tuvok was keeping a close eye on him. The Vulcan had even surreptitiously logged into the helm at one point and entered a necessary course correction when a low chuckle from Chakotay had caused Tom to freeze in terror during a complex maneuver.

It had seemed so easy on the holodec, when he had interacted with the holo-Chakotay. He had been sure that he could deal with the sight of the real Commander. What he hadn't anticipated was the smell of him. The way his own nostrils constantly flared as a faint whiff of eau de Chakotay drifted from the Command chair. Tom could feel the perspiration dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes until they burned. His fingers were shaking so badly he could barely move them over the helm and minute tremors chased up and down his back like ghostly fingers playing a violent crescendo on his spine.

When the Captain finally approached him and whispered in his ear, he was so shocked by the touch of her hand on his shoulder that he nearly crawled under the console in terror.

"It's 1130, Tom. I think you should call it a day for today," she said quietly, steeling herself against the mute plea of his miserable blue eyes as he interpreted her words as a decision to ground him again.

"I'll see you here again tomorrow, Tom. Bright and early, this time," she joked reassuringly..

Tom released his breath with an audible sigh of relief. It was okay. He hadn't blown it completely. She was going to give him another chance.

"I, I think I would like to go now," he confessed softly. 

She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"You did great, Tom. I'm proud of you," she whispered.

The corners of Tom's mouth attempted a tiny smile as he climbed to his feet. He hesitated for a moment, looking anywhere but at the Commander who he would have to pass to exit. Then, ducking his head to avoid Chakotay's eyes, he practically ran off the bridge. 

~~~

"May I speak to you privately, Captain?" Chakotay asked, a few moments later.

"Of course," Kathryn agreed casually, rising to her feet. 

Chakotay didn't notice the look exchanged between Kathryn and Tuvok, but the Captain's quick glance was enough to warn the Vulcan to switch his monitor to Chakotay's signal. It would be a long time before Kathryn would allow herself to be alone with Chakotay without Tuvok's secret surveillance.

"Coffee?" she asked pleasantly, turning her back to hide her fear as the Ready Room door slid closed behind them. Her heart hammered as she found herself alone with this man. She was suddenly aware of just how physically imposing Chakotay was. 

"I'd prefer tea," Chakotay replied, then looked confused. "I do prefer tea, don't I?" he asked nervously.

"Indeed you do," Kathryn replied. "Why don't you get comfortable?"

While she dialed the orders, Chakotay seated himself and it gave her a moment to calm down and fix her expression into a mask of friendliness. Chakotay certainly seemed normal, if a little confused by the gaps in his memory. Yet, she had been fooled by him before. She wasn't going to be so foolish as to offer her trust to him again. He would have to earn it, inch by torturous inch.

"What's troubling you, Commander?" she asked as she placed their drinks on the table and sat down.

"Tom Paris," Chakotay replied.

Kathryn choked a little on her coffee. She had hoped to avoid this conversation for a little longer, but after Tom's early dismissal from the bridge, it had been inevitable that Chakotay would raise the question. If he really was ignorant of what had been going on, of course.

"Tom has been ill," Kathryn replied. 

She and Tuvok had discussed at length the cover story for Tom's behavior.  She had made a ship-wide announcement that Tom's supposed illness was "off-limits" as a topic of conversation, so as not to impede his recovery, yet since most of the crew were ignorant of Chakotay's actions, there was no way she could stop them possibly discussing Tom's apparent "breakdown" with the Commander.

"I don't remember," Chakotay confessed. "How ill and why?"

"Tom suffered a nervous breakdown, Chakotay, after he was subjected to a brutal rape by some members of the crew who are obviously no longer on board," Kathryn stated bluntly, carefully watching Chakotay's reaction.

"Spirits," Chakotay hissed, his face contorting with apparently sincere horror.

"For the last few months, you have been his counselor, Chakotay. You even let him stay with you for a while until he recovered enough to cope with living in his own quarters again."

"I don't remember any of this," Chakotay choked.

"Obviously, the reason for Tom's breakdown was never made public, and he is slowly trying to get on with his life. He will be working half-shifts for a time, and may, like today, need to leave early. The important thing is that he is allowed to recover in his own time.

"Because of your unfortunate accident, and subsequent loss of memory, Tuvok has taken over as Tom's counselor. It would be unfair for him to have to relieve his experiences again with a counselor who is ignorant of the facts. So I am asking you to leave his further treatment in Tuvok's hands."

"Of course, I understand completely," Chakotay agreed.

No wonder he hadn't seen Tom as a sexual prospect, he told himself. As Tom's counselor it would have been unforgivable for him to act on his own desire for the pilot. It still didn't explain why he had never acted on it before, of course, but he was too horrified by the Captain's revelation to dwell on his own concerns.

The idea that anyone had raped Tom, brutally raped Tom, appalled and disgusted him. No wonder he had looked like a scared rabbit as he had scuttled into the bridge that morning. It was a damned good job that the perpetrators had already left the ship because if they hadn't, Chakotay would have spaced them himself.

"Obviously, I don't have to tell you how vulnerable Tom is feeling at the moment, Chakotay," Kathryn said carefully. "It is imperative that no-one should put him under any "social" pressure because they are ignorant of the facts."

Chakotay nodded decisively. He understood exactly what she was saying. It was fortunate that he hadn't blurted out his own feelings for Tom.

"Don't worry, Kathryn. I will make sure that nobody approaches Tom in that fashion," he swore solemnly.

Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief. Tuvok had evidently been right. Appointing Chakotay as Tom's "protector" would ensure that Chakotay wouldn't entertain any notions towards Tom himself. If the big Maquis truly was cured, then his own sense of duty would prevent him acting on any attraction he might feel.

And if he wasn't, well, letting Chakotay be Tom's "friend" would tempt him to betray himself.

She had felt a little guilty at the thought of using Tom as "bait", but there was no other way to be sure, and the monitoring devices would ensure Tom's safety.

~~~

"Fuck! That hurt," Tom cursed, as he watched the blood welling and beading along the length of his forearm.

He had gone to bed as soon as he had returned to his quarters and had slept right through until the morning. He had stirred a little when his door chime had sounded during the evening, and he had vaguely remembered promising that he would accompany Harry to the mess hall. But he had been too tired to get up and answer the summons. The idea of climbing out of bed was too much effort, let alone getting dressed and facing the crew after the spectacle he had made of himself, scurrying off the bridge like that. 

The Captain had made her position clear. If Tom couldn't handle Chakotay staying on board, then Chakotay would be put off the ship. So he had to stop feeling sorry for himself and get his act together.

He picked his knife up again and ran another line parallel to the first.

Hissing with the sharp pain of the cut, he decided he needed to run a third line between the first two. He carefully placed the edge of the blade in the crook of his elbow and slowly sliced until he finished precisely in line with the other cuts, at the point where his wrist met his hand.

He contemplated a fourth line, but decided it would spoil the symmetry of his design. He traced his right forefinger carefully over the wounds, wincing a little as a bead of sweat dripped off his forehead onto the abraded skin. The salt stung so fiercely that his eyes blurred with involuntary tears before he drifted away  on the faint waves of pain flowing through his arm.

The beep of his alarm spurred him back to reality. He grabbed the regenerator, ran it quickly over the wounds, until only the thinnest white scars remained, then he washed his arm, threw on his jacket and rushed towards the bridge.

He knew how much Chakotay hated people being late.

~~~

The Commander was beginning to feel truly concerned about Tom Paris. In deference to Tuvok's position as Tom's counselor, he had attempted to stay detached from the Pilot's obvious difficulty in resuming his former life, yet it was not in his nature to sit back and ignore the pain of another human being.

He knew that his own feelings were unimportant, that it would be a long time, if ever, before Tom recovered sufficiently from his experience to deal with the sexual interest of another person. So it wasn't his attraction to the younger man that motivated him to interfere. It was simply his inability to turn his back on Tom's suffering.

The Captain had asked him to keep an eye on the pilot, and run interference between him and the rest of the crew. He understood and applauded her reasoning. It had, however, been a pointless request under the circumstances, since Tom never interacted with any of the crew.

Tom had arrived on the bridge every morning for the past two weeks, had performed his duties adequately, and at lunch time had sped off to his quarters where he had remained until the following morning. Chakotay had checked Tom's replicator records and the energy consumption of his quarters and had reluctantly decided that whatever Tom was doing alone for all that time, he wasn't watching vids or listening to music, he was rarely eating and he certainly didn't appear to be sleeping.

Each time Tom emerged for his next shift he looked  paler and more tired than the day before. Chakotay had asked Tuvok whether Tom was suffering from nightmares, since it seemed the most logical reason for the ever-growing dark patches under Tom's dull blue eyes. Tuvok had been a little curt with him for asking, citing the confidentiality between counselor and patient as the reason for his silence on the matter.

Chakotay understood, yet couldn't help feeling a little hurt. He was a counselor himself, after all, and his question had only been prompted by concern. Personally, although he understood Kathryn's decision to pass Tom's care over to Tuvok, he was bemused that Tuvok was so reluctant to confide in him.

He may have lost portions of his memory, including those relating to his own treatment of Tom, yet surely his years of experience in similar matters would make him a natural sounding board for the Vulcan. Tuvok had little or no understanding of the complexities of the human psyche, and Chakotay knew that Tom's refusal to leave his quarters was an indication of intense fear and depression in the younger man.

So, in his appointed role as Tom's "protector", Chakotay