Part Four

Chakotay gave a wide, contented smile and prayed silent thanks to the spirits for the sweetness of this dream. 

"Mmmmm," he moaned, as Tom's naked body slid under the sheets and curled against him.

To his surprise, this dream-Tom was trembling, his flesh cold and shivering under Chakotay's exploring hands. Chakotay reached in for a kiss and found Tom's face wet with tears.

He jerked fully awake in horror, understanding that this was no dream after all and that the real Tom was here, crying in his bed, instead of sitting at the helm.

"Tom? What's wrong? What are you doing here?" he demanded, worry making his voice sharp.

"Don't be mad," Tom begged.

"I'm not mad. I'm worried. Why aren't you on the Bridge?"

"Sick," Tom whispered.

"You're sick? Are you in pain? Did I hurt you last night? Let me look," Chakotay demanded frantically.

"*Said* I was sick," Tom lied. "Missed you."

Chakotay's eyes darkened with fury that Tom had pulled a sickie, abandoning his post just to jump back in bed with him. Yet, no sooner had the anger struck him than it fled. Tom *was* ill, mentally ill. He had been for months and the cause of Tom's illness was Chakotay himself. It was a miracle that Tom could function at the helm at all, under the circumstances. He could surely be forgiven the odd relapse.

Although Chakotay was sure that the previous night had been a positive step forward for the pilot as well as their relationship as a whole, who knew what mental strain it had still put Tom under. If Tom felt needy enough to abandon the helm he loved in favor of a comforting hug, then Tom *really* needed a hug, he decided.

"Two steps forward and one back, huh?" he muttered, pulling Tom into a fierce embrace.

Tom just whimpered and accepted the comfort of Chakotay's arms.  He wasn't sure how long he'd got. Maybe the whole day, maybe less if someone commed Chakotay and told him what had happened. 

In the midst of his near-hysterical shouting match with poor Harry, Tuvok had appeared and had escorted Tom quietly to sickbay. After the Doctor had judged his panic to be *mere* psychological distress rather than something that could be helped medically, Tom had been relieved of duty and sent home.  He'd begged for the right to tell Chakotay the news himself, and surprisingly it had been the Captain herself who had finally agreed.

What no one had realized was that Tom had no intention of telling Chakotay at all.

He knew, of course, that the reprieve was temporary at best. The most he could hope for was to keep the news from Chakotay until his next duty shift. That gave them twenty hours at most, assuming Chakotay didn't leave Tom's quarters and no one came calling.

Twenty hours was a hell of a short forever.

"I've got a couple of hours booked on the holodec. It's a remote beach, hot sun, calm sea, want to come?" Chakotay offered.

"Can't," Tom replied, his eyes flaring with alarm. "I'm sick. I can't use the holodec."

Chakotay laughed. "If anyone questions us, I'll make the Doctor say he prescribed it as medicine."

Tom shook his head frantically.

"Don't want to go out," he mumbled. "Wanna stay here, with you. Let's fuck."

"Let's eat first, huh?" Chakotay laughed.

"Not hungry," Tom whispered.

"Oh," Chakotay replied with a concerned frown. Then his expression cleared. "I forgot you had breakfast with Harry. How is he? Any gossip?"

Tom's face blanched, his eyes growing impossibly huge before he dropped his face from Chakotay's concerned gaze.

"Okay," Chakotay growled, reaching forward and grasping Tom's chin firmly enough to force his face upwards again. "What's going on? What's happened?"

Tom began to shudder, his eyes stark with terror.

"Don't leave me," he begged.

Chakotay released Tom's jaw and instead bundled him up in his arms. Lifting Tom up as though he weighed nothing, Chakotay carried him into the bathroom. Without releasing his precious, trembling burden he adjusted the shower setting from sonic to water and stepped inside the cubicle, Tom still in his arms.

As the warm water beat down on their heads, Chakotay soothed and stroked the younger man, waiting for the heat of the shower to permeate Tom's chilled skin. Chakotay knew Tom's trembling was shock, that the icy pallor of his skin was due to a psychological insult, not a physical one, but he also knew that physical comfort and warmth were necessary to calm Tom before Chakotay had any chance of discovering whatever had terrified Tom so badly that he was unable to talk about it.

There was an element of hurt lurking in Chakotay's heart, an echo of the pain when Tom had rejected his proposal, but there was no feeling of irritation or blame. Tom had lied, had tried to deceive him, but that didn't matter. That had just been Tom's fear driving his actions. The important thing was that in this moment of crisis, whatever it was, Tom had still turned to *him* for comfort and safety.

Tom loved him, and he loved Tom, and whatever this crisis was, they'd face it together and emerge stronger.

When he finally judged that Tom could stand safely, albeit with support, Chakotay lowered him to his feet and then hugged him under the powerful, healing spray. Tom nuzzled against him, just seeking comfort at first and then slowly his movements against Chakotay's body became more purposeful, more needy. He suckled at Chakotay's neck, rubbing his erection meaningfully against Chakotay's hip.

Chakotay reached an arm down to capture and caress Tom's cock, deciding the relief of Tom's sexual pressure might open the floodgates to allow his other emotions through. As soon as he touched Tom's erection, however, the younger man spun in his arms and braced himself against the wall of the shower.

"Tom?" Chakotay queried softly through the streaming water.

"Please," Tom begged. 

Chakotay didn't waste time playing games or second-guessing Tom's plea. Tom's distress was obvious and his body was radiating a desperate need for comfort and reassurance. Reaching for the soap, praying it was unperfumed, Chakotay lathered his cock and pressed it against Tom's ass.

Tom groaned in obvious relief, adjusting his legs and bending forward to allow Chakotay a better access.

Because of Tom's fragility and the precariousness of the wet floor, Chakotay didn't attempt any finesse. He used one hand to hold himself upright, the other to immediately begin pumping Tom's cock and he entered Tom in a slow but hard thrust that dragged a ragged gasp of pleasure out of the younger man.

It took little effort to coax an orgasm out of Tom. A dozen firm strokes, the synchronous  internal caress of Chakotay's cock, and Tom cried out in relief, the tension exploding out of his body accompanied by a founting spurt of semen. He sagged bonelessly in Chakotay's arms, barely even aware of Chakotay withdrawing to finish himself off with his own hand.

Chakotay detached the showerhead to sluice them both down and then helped Tom out of the shower, sitting him down on the toilet seat while grabbed towels and a couple of robes. Chakotay briskly rubbed Tom dry, using the towel to massage a little life back into Tom's still worryingly pale limbs, then he wrapped Tom in a robe, picked him up in his arms once more and carried him back to the bed.

It wasn't until they were  snuggled together, Tom on his lap, the duvet wrapped in warm comfort around their bodies, that Chakotay finally asked Tom to tell him what was wrong.

Chakotay listened in silence, only the gradual tightening of his arms around Tom's chest proving that he was listening at all.

Tom finished his tale and fell silent, waiting in trembling terror for Chakotay's reaction, but Chakotay couldn't talk, couldn't think for the panic rushing through his veins. He just sat there, crushing Tom in his embrace, as a myriad of nightmare consequences tumbled through his head. When Chakotay finally reacted, it wasn't with words, it was with the simple act of climbing out of bed and proceeding to dress himself in his uniform 

"Don't go," Tom begged. "Don't leave me alone."

He was still huddled under the duvet, as though his limbs were still too weak to even push the covering aside, but the true reason for his inability to move was that Chakotay's grim-faced silence was terrifying him.

Chakotay stepped forward toward the bed, hesitated and let his arms fall awkwardly to his sides. He couldn't lie to Tom, couldn't make meaningless promises, couldn't offer false comfort. Unable to look at the burning misery in Tom's eyes, yet helpless to remove it, Chakotay simply turned away.

"I'll be back soon," he muttered and was gone.

Tom gazed at the closed bedroom door with dead eyes.

"No you won't," he whispered into the empty room and his words hung invisibly in the air like a storm cloud.

A couple of hours later, when Chakotay had neither returned nor commed him, Tom knew his instincts had been right. He didn't cry, didn't even curse, he simply rose, walked into the bathroom, locked the door firmly and retrieving his regenerator from the cabinet, Tom liberated the small blade he had taped inside the toilet cistern.

The first insertion into his skin made a surge of bile rush into his mouth, burning like acid into his throat lining as it passed in each direction. After that, though, Tom barely felt the knife slicing the careful lines into his forearm.

FOREVER


The stark ragged letters mocked him. Their red ugliness no less transient, no less a lie, than Chakotay's use of the word.

One sweep of the regenerator and the word and the pain would be forgotten, just as Chakotay's vow had been so obviously forgotten.

Tom grabbed a towel, wrapped it tightly around his forearm to stop the bleeding and returned to the bedroom, crawling under the covers and clutching his still stinging arm. Left untreated, the wounds would heal into paper-thin scars, a permanent tattoo, less perfect, less obvious than Chakotay's but no less spiritual to Tom.

Forever. He'd meant it, even if Chakotay hadn't.

~~~

Chakotay checked the time and cursed. He'd been gone from Tom's quarters for almost five hours and despite the way he and Tom had connected the night before, Tom's attempt to hide the truth from him that morning proved that Tom's trust was far more fragile than his love.

Don't do anything stupid, he prayed silently. Please don't give anyone any more reasons to destroy us.

He desperately wanted to at least call Tom, but Tuvok and the Doctor's constant presence was constraining him.

The Doctor finally finished regenerating the knuckles of Chakotay's right hand and sighed loudly before moving his instrument to Chakotay's left hand.

"There would have been less swelling to deal with if you had allowed me to deal with your injuries before those of your victims, Commander," the hologram griped.

"Since Crewman Doyle was choking on his own blood and Crewman Jarvin was asphyxiating from his crushed larynx, the Commander's insistence that you treated them first was logical,"  Tuvok interrupted. "Otherwise, the Commander would currently be in the brig on a charge of manslaughter."

The Doctor just snorted. 

"As it is, although Doyle and Jarvin have been charged with assault on a superior officer, I still require an explanation of why you found it necessary to deal with their verbal insults in such an extreme manner, Commander," Tuvok continued, making a mental note to ask Seven to check the Doctor's ethical subroutines.

"They are my crew, Maquis crew, and Maquis discipline was applied," Chakotay replied coldly.

"May I remind you that the crew of Voyager is ONE crew. The original Starfleet and Maquis designations no longer apply," Tuvok pointed out. "I also fail to understand your reasoning. Unlike the majority of the crew, these crewmen did not verbally abuse you for your actions during your illness. I myself witnessed  Crewmen Fitzpatrick and Ashmore confronting you on deck 4. They called you several names for which I have put them on report, yet you did not even react to the insults."

Chakotay just shrugged, willing the Doctor to hurry up so that he could get back to Tom. He was terrified some other ignorant bastard like Doyle and Jarvin might attempt to confront the pilot directly.

"Your response is inadequate, Commander. I require your version of events before I question the prisoners."

Chakotay swallowed heavily. Even the idea of repeating what Doyle and Jarvin had said to him made him nauseous.

"They were not disciplined for verbally assaulting me," he finally answered. "The charge of assaulting a senior officer refers to what they said about Tom."

The Doctor snorted loudly again, leading Tuvok to the conclusion that he already knew what the crewmen had said. It perhaps explained his attitude towards them.

"Commander?" Tuvok asked, now deeply intrigued.

"They called Lieutenant Paris a whore," Chakotay replied tightly. "They said he was well known as no more than a 'bitch-slut' in Auckland, that he deserved everything I did to him and that they had taken 'a piece of his ass' themselves when we first came aboard."

"I see," Tuvok replied quietly.

"DO YOU?" Chakotay roared. "Do you have any idea how it felt to hear the man I love talked about in that way and know it's MY FAULT? Shit, I thought nothing could be worse than walking into a room and knowing everybody inside thinks I'm a monster, knowing that they'll all be pressuring Tom to leave me, trying to convince him for his own good that he's crazy to be with me after what I did to him.

"That's all I could think about this morning when Tom finally dared to tell me. Not my own reputation, not the fact that my chance of living and working on this ship has probably been irrevocably destroyed. Just the fact that he needs me, and nobody will understand that, nobody will just let him make his own choices anymore.

"It never even fucking occurred to me that there were bastards on board who would  use it against Tom. What kind of sick person could try and justify what I did?" he demanded. "I'm ashamed I ever allowed scum like them on the Crazy Horse. There's certainly no place for them on a Starfleet Vessel."

"Indeed," Tuvok agreed, deciding perhaps the Doctor's sub-routines were fine as they were.

~~~

"Tom?" Chakotay called out worriedly as he entered Tom's quarters and saw the living area was abandoned. It was almost 1700, he'd been gone for seven hours without a word and his gut instinct was insisting that Tom would have over-reacted to his absence.

No sooner had the Doctor finished repairing his hands than he had been forced to give a formal statement to Tuvok about his 'disciplining' of Doyle and Jarvis. Then the Captain had summoned him to give an update on the 'damage limitation' she'd been doing. He was grateful for her concern, relieved to hear she had been personally visiting the various decks to replace rumors with facts. Chakotay had been unwilling to comm. Tom in  front of any of them, knowing they would listen in and make judgments based on the level of panic in Tom's voice.

Before Tuvok had arrived in Sickbay, Chakotay had asked the Doctor to monitor Tom's quarters. The computer would have sounded an alert if Tom's life signs had gone critical, if Tom had left or if another person had been registered entering his quarters. Chakotay at least knew Tom was here and alive. So it wasn't Tom's physical health that was worrying him, it was his mental state.

Chakotay had been cursing himself all day. In a state of selfish, self-indulgent shock he had left Tom without even a single word of comfort. Despite his decision to share the problem with Tom and face it together, the moment the crisis had hit Chakotay had just charged off in a testosterone induced rage. He hadn't even paused to tell Tom that he loved him.

He knows, he'd told himself all day. I told him we were forever so he knows that I love him, that somehow I'll make everything all right. But the words had been cold comfort because Chakotay knew that Tom was too fragile for faith, too damaged for real trust to flourish in the barren wasteland of his battered spirit.

I should have told him I loved him, and the obvious truth of that regret was what fired Chakotay's panic.

He found Tom in the bedroom, still huddled under the duvet. He was sleeping, his breathing low but steady, his face stained with the tracks of countless tears. Chakotay stroked the fine blonde hair, and looked carefully at the too-thin face that was screwed up in misery, even in sleep.

He was too pale, paler even than when Chakotay had left him. He probably hadn't eaten all day, Chakotay decided. Tom had simply cried until he was too exhausted to continue and then had finally dropped into an equally restless sleep.

Chakotay bent and kissed a white cheek, surprised at the heat that was burning from such bloodless flesh. Tom was fever hot without even the slightest blush staining his cheeks or forehead.

With a feeling of foreboding, Chakotay gently shook Tom awake.

Blue eyes fluttered slowly open, dark flat pools of misery that suddenly sparked with life as they focused on Chakotay's face.

"Chak?" Tom queried hesitantly, in a voice ragged from his earlier sobbing.

"Yes, sweetheart," Chakotay replied. He wasn't a man given easily to endearments but Tom's fearful expression demanded the kind of reassurance that only nonsense could  supply.

"You're back," Tom said vaguely, disbelievingly.

"Of course I'm back," Chakotay said, with a gentle smile. "Forever, don't you remember?"

Alarm flared in Tom's eyes, a guilty unmistakable terror.

"Tom? What's wrong?"

"Oh god, oh shit," Tom mumbled. "I thought, I thought you'd gone, I thought.."

Looking at Tom's darting eyes and observing his panic, the feeling of dread that had accompanied Chakotay all day coalesced into a grim certainty.

"What have you done, Tom?" he asked urgently.

Tom was shaking, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Then, as abruptly as the panic had started, it ceased. Tom raised his fever-bright eyes to Chakotay's face and laughed instead. The sound was so inappropriate that it was terrifying.

"Help me," Tom urged, a sly smile creeping across his face. "The bathroom. That's it. They don't need to know. We don't have to tell them. Secret. That's it. Our secret, Chak. Okay?"

"What secret, Tom?" Chakotay asked softly, even as he wondered why the whole room wasn't echoing with the sound of his own breaking heart.

Tom looked suspiciously around the room as though checking there were no lurking spies listening into their conversation. Then, seemingly satisfied, he leant forward and whispered "Forever".

Chakotay swallowed convulsively, his stomach churning as his trembling right arm reached for the corner of the duvet. Somehow he already knew what he was going to find, wasn't surprised to peel back the bedcover and discover that Tom was lying in a dark puddle of blood, he wasn't even shocked by the towel wrapped around Tom's forearm that was so saturated with Tom's blood that it was wet and heavy as Chakotay unwrapped it.

What drove Chakotay to his knees, as his stomach disgorged itself in a series of wracking spasms, was the word that Tom had carved into his flesh.

~~~

"He's restrained," the Doctor agreed, "but he's too sedated to be distressed about it."

"If he's that sedated, why do you need the restraints at all?" Chakotay demanded.

"I agree," Kathryn said. "He's ill, not a prisoner. Restraining him will surely only make the situation worse and what we all want is Tom to recover from this setback as soon as possible."

The Doctor stiffened imperiously.

"The only way Mr. Paris is *ever* going to recover, is if you all stop playing at being physicians and let me do my job."

"Tom's frightened of you," Chakotay reminded him. "He still has nightmares about what you did to him before."

"Odd," the Doctor replied snidely. "Since *you* were the one responsible for my reprogramming and he doesn't appear to have nightmares about *you*."

"Tom will NOT be restrained," Kathryn interrupted firmly. "Drug him if you have to, put a forcefield around his bed if you are that concerned, but Tom Paris will never be physically restrained again.  I made him a promise, and no matter how ill he is, I won't break it."

"Thank you," Chakotay said, giving Kathryn a grateful smile.

"Very well," the Doctor sniffed. "No visitors however, particularly *not* the Commander."

"Bullshit," Chakotay growled. "What Tom did was stupid, I agree, but he did it because he thought I'd left him. His self-mutilation is always a response to him being separated from me."

"Which is exactly why it's been a mistake to allow him to use you as a crutch," the Doctor replied. "It allows him to function well enough to fool people into thinking he's recovering, but remove the crutch and Tom collapses."

"The Doctor's right, Chakotay," Kathryn said gently. "No one is trying to separate you from each other. It's obvious that despite everything that has happened, you and Tom have a very special relationship. However, Tom is clearly unwell and as his Captain it is both my legal and moral duty to do what is best for him until he is able to look after himself. Until that time comes, you are to stay away from him."

"No, you can't make that decision for him. He loves me. He *needs* me," Chakotay argued.

"What he needs is to get better, Chakotay. Think about it. The whole crew is up in arms about your relationship with him. They all see it as just a further form of abuse, you taking advantage of him, and Tom's mental instability is just proving their theory right."

"So you're allowing their stupidity and prejudice to influence you," Chakotay accused.

"Yes," Kathryn replied. "Not because I am personally worried about their opinions, Chakotay. But because Tom can't cope with any more pressure and as long as he stays with you he'll have to run the gauntlet of that public opinion. All I'm suggesting is a little breathing space. Give Tom a chance to grow stronger, give a little time for this to blow over, concentrate on re-building your own fences with the crew. Win their support, *then* we'll see about letting you and Tom resume your relationship."

"You're playing God, Kathryn," Chakotay spat, although he was honest enough to acknowledge her points to himself. She was right, but she was also terribly wrong because Tom would never understand Chakotay's apparent desertion of him.

Kathryn shrugged ruefully.

"I have to," she said sadly. "I'm the Captain."

~~~

Tom spent the next fortnight lost in a drug-induced haze. 

It wasn't the sedatives that kept him trapped in a semi-conscious state, it was the fact that despite the Doctor's medical care, Tom developed a serious infection in his arm.

The skin of his forearm, already multi-scarred by his previous abuse, resisted the Doctor's efforts at regeneration. There was too little undamaged skin for the Doctor to work with and because of Tom's poor general health a skin graft was out of the question.

The Doctor decided to let the wounds scab and close naturally. He could clone some of Tom's DNA at a later date and attach fresh skin to cover the scarring. 

Unfortunately, Tom had an allergic reaction to one of the various anti-biotics included in the cocktail of drugs the Doctor mixed up to speed the healing. By the time the Doctor had isolated the culprit, Tom's arm was weeping with infection and his whole body was wracked with fever.

Then, despite the best application of 24th century medicine, or at least the facilities that were available in Voyager's now depleted sickbay, Tom proceeded to prove that even unconscious he could be the Doctor's worst nightmare.

Time and again the Doctor devised a treatment that couldn't fail to work, and each time Tom's body defeated him, refusing the medicine, reacting violently against any application of drugs that could reduce the livid, throbbing wound on his arm.

The vibrant wound mocked the Doctor with its absolute refusal to heal. If the Doctor had been a flesh and blood person he would have given in to the increasingly superstitious feeling that the word FOREVER was self-aware and determined to prove itself no less permanent than the sum of its letters.

"Can't you just seal the flesh closed?" Kathryn asked, looking in despair at the clear plastiglass cover over Tom's arm that was designed to keep any airborne infections out of the weeping wound.

"The only thing that would work is a laser," the Doctor replied, "and that would simply burn the word into his arm. A graft would never take over the top of it. He'll be permanently scarred."

"Perhaps that's what he wants," Kathryn murmured.

"What?"

"You said yourself there's no physical reason for him to keep rejecting the treatments. Perhaps his reactions are psychosomatic. He wants the scar."

The Doctor nodded his reluctant agreement.

"I have come to the same conclusion," he admitted. "Obviously it's a symptom of his illness, however, which is why I am determined to overcome his resistance to my treatment. When he is well again, he will almost certainly find the permanent mark distressing."

Kathryn nodded.

"Possibly," she agreed. "The way I see it though is that if you don't stop trying to beat Tom's determination now, he won't survive long enough to be cured."

"The operation was a success but the patient died?" the Doctor asked dryly.

"What?"

"Some old joke Mr. Paris once told me," the Doctor replied.

"Laser the wound, Doctor," Kathryn ordered firmly. "We'll deal with the aftermath later."

~~~

Chakotay ignored the aggressive stance of the crewman and concentrated instead on the information flashing on his terminal.

"This is the fourth time this week you've been late for duty. Twice in the last month, members of your team have been cited for leaving their posts without permission. You have failed to hand in your last two station reports and now I find that you haven't even started your team on the assignment I gave you last week."

"We did start it," Collins argued. "Then we realized it was a waste of time. We're just duplicating work that the maintenance crew on Beta shift are doing. What's the point of crawling along Jeffries tubes just repeating their work?"

"The *point* is that they are critical systems. The Beta shift need the experience of doing the work but I need it double-checked by more experienced crewmen," Chakotay explained, forcing his voice to remain steady in the face of Collins' insubordination.

"Yeah? Well that's the job of their supervisor, not my team. It's not my job to baby-sit, Commander."

"No," Chakotay agreed. "It's your job to follow orders, which you are patently unable to do. I'm entering a note into your performance report. Unless your attitude changes dramatically, you will be turned down for promotion again this year."

Collins face flushed with anger.

"I'm the best maintenance engineer on this ship. Even Torres says so. I've had the responsibility of running my own team for five years. I deserve that damned promotion."

"Not on this performance you don't," Chakotay replied. "It's not enough to have ability, Mr. Collins. If you want to be an officer on this ship you have to set an example to your team by your own behavior."

Collins laughed nastily.

"An example?" he mocked. "You mean I ought to take a firmer hand with my team? What do you suggest, *sir*? Should I fuck 'em into submission or just beat their asses? I mean you're the expert on correctional behavior, aren't you, Commander?"

"Dismissed," Chakotay growled, clenching his knuckles until they turned white. The blood was pounding through his head, his whole body poised to jump up and wipe the mocking smirk off Collin's face. It took every ounce of his strength to simply sit there and maintain a mask of indifference.

"What? No pointers, Sir?" Collins continued. "I mean, if I want to be an *Officer* like you, I obviously need to learn your special form of discipline, don't I?"

"I SAID DISMISSED," Chakotay roared.

Collins smirked, gave a salute so precise that it was a gesture of utter contempt, turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his whole body radiating satisfaction.

Chakotay just sat there, staring at the closed door, trying to remember how to breathe. A couple of minutes later, his comm. badge chirped.

"Chakotay," he growled, slapping his chest so hard that he bruised himself.

"Commander," Tuvok's dispassionate voice replied. "I wondered whether you have time to see me for a few minutes. There are a couple of security issues I would welcome your opinion about."

Chakotay shrugged. He wasn't up to dealing with another crew discipline session and nobody came to him for counseling any more.

"I'm available," he told Tuvok shortly.

As if you didn't already know, Chakotay added silently, deliberately not looking towards the tiny blinking red light in the far corner of his room. He'd been told it was part of a life-support secondary system. He'd seen the schematics, understood the theory, hadn't even queried the fact that there was a matching red light in his living room and even his bedroom. It was the fact that it hadn't been installed in his bathroom that had given the deception away.

Even Kathryn obviously drew the line at placing a camera in Chakotay's bathroom.

~~~

Tom glared resentfully at the Doctor's self-satisfied smirk.

"I feel FINE. You could at least let me get up and use the bathroom."

"The bio-bed is perfectly capable of dealing with all your bodily functions," the Doctor replied smoothly.

"I want to talk to the Captain," Tom insisted. "She promised me I wouldn't be restrained."

"You aren't," the hologram replied smoothly. "You are free to sit up in the bed. You can get up and sit ON the bed. You can even walk around it if you prefer. The force field merely prevents you from leaving Sickbay."

"Then why is it around my fucking BED?" Tom demanded.

"Because there are a lot of items in sickbay that you could *accidentally* hurt yourself with," the Doctor answered. "This way I don't have to keep you under constant surveillance and you can have a little privacy."

"I want to see Chakotay," Tom muttered.

The Doctor sighed impatiently.

"We have already had this conversation, Tom. Numerous times. The Commander has been ordered to stay away from Sickbay. You cannot see him."

"Then I want to *talk* to Chakotay," Tom replied.

"As I have explained before, your comm. badge will not work through the force field."

"THEN DROP THE FUCKING FORCE FIELD," Tom screamed.

The Doctor sighed and activated the sub-routine that would send a sedating gas into Tom's air supply. He watched Tom fighting the gas, battering his hands desperately against the invisible wall that trapped him, screaming abuse and threats at the Doctor. He waited until Tom's screams became ragged sobs, until the strength of Tom's anger was replaced by a confused, depressed sorrow. Then Tom's body sagged with exhaustion and he crawled back under the bedcovers, his fury replaced with tired bitter tears of despair.

Only then did the Doctor return to his office and write a new entry in Tom's medical report. Tom had managed 4.356 minutes before giving in to hysteria that morning. It was definite progress.

~~~

B'Elanna nudged Harry roughly.

"What?" he complained, as her elbow connected with his ribs hard enough to almost make him drop his tray.

She dipped her head towards the far corner of the Mess Hall where Chakotay was sitting alone, pushing his dinner listlessly around his plate and pretending to be absorbed in a data padd.

Chakotay wasn't merely sitting alone at his table. The surrounding tables were also conspicuously empty despite the fact that the room was so full of people that the other tables were overcrowded.

"Bastards," Harry hissed, as he realized how hard the entire crew were working to make Chakotay feel isolated and unwelcome.

"Come on," B'Elanna growled and began to march towards Chakotay's table.

Harry flushed as he realized the eyes of the whole room were on him. He knew that if they sat at Chakotay's table the contempt currently reserved for Chakotay would be extended to them too. The thought made his stomach roil.

Then he stiffened his shoulders. If it was Tom he wouldn't hesitate, and he knew, beyond any doubt, that Tom would want him to do this. Whatever had happened, whatever Chakotay had done, Tom loved Chakotay and Tom was Harry's friend.

He'd been a bad friend to Tom recently. He knew that. Every time he reached out to his beloved B'Elanna, he had a flashback to how he had allowed Tom's destruction just to steal Tom's girlfriend. What he owed Tom could never be paid, but maybe by reaching out to Chakotay, Harry could reduce a little of the interest on his debt.

"May we?" B'Elanna asked loudly. She didn't wait for an answer, she just pulled out a chair, plonked her tray noisily on Chakotay's table and sat down.

Chakotay nearly dropped his padd in surprise.

"You've let your dinner get cold, Commander," Harry said as he joined them. He snatched Chakotay's plate, replaced it with his own steaming pasta and rose to fetch himself another serving.

"What are you doing?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"You know that expression, a drip of water wears away the hardest rock?" B'Elanna asked.

Chakotay frowned in confusion.

"Well the rock is the stupid, ignorant attitude of these idiots, and Harry is the drip."

"Hey," Harry protested. "What are you then?"

B'Elanna shrugged and gave an evil smile.

"Me? I'm a Tsunami. Kahless himself can't help anyone who stands in my way."

Chakotay smiled despite himself.

"You can't change attitudes by breaking noses, B'Elanna," he admonished softly.

"Want a bet?" B'Elanna replied with a cool smirk.

~~~

"How is he?" Tom asked quietly.

Kathryn sighed, stretching her legs as she leaned back in the chair, and she looked worriedly at Tom's face. Even with the force field between them she could almost feel the misery radiating from the pilot.

"I didn't come here to talk about Chakotay," she reminded him gently. "I came to see how *you* are."

"Please," Tom said, dropping his head to stare at his lap. "I just want to know he's okay. The Doc won't tell me."

"He's having a hard time," Kathryn admitted finally. "But he's okay, he's strong. He'll get through it."

Tom nodded slowly.

"You care about him, don't you?" Tom asked.

Kathryn jerked in surprise.

"Of course I do. He's a good man, Tom. I understand that. Despite everything that happened. I trust him and care about him, just as I care about you."

"But you don't trust me," Tom replied bitterly.

Since Kathryn hadn't even considered sitting inside the boundaries of Tom's 'prison' she could hardly deny it.

"You're ill Tom. It's not your fault. All we're doing is protecting you until you're able to look after yourself."

"By which you mean keeping us apart," Tom accused.

"Only until you're feeling better, Tom."

"How the fuck am I going to feel better without him? I NEED HIM!" Tom screamed, moving towards Kathryn so that his final words were almost spat in her face.

Kathryn jumped, despite the force field. Tom's sudden swing of mood had caught her unprepared.

"It's exactly this kind of behavior that convinces me I'm right, Tom," she told him coldly, rising to her feet to leave. 

She wasn't angry with him, not really, she was just beginning to despair whether Tom would ever recover. The Doctor had already said there was no physical reason to keep Tom in sickbay any longer. Yet Tom needed to be constantly supervised and kept away from dangerous objects. Such as First Officers.

As much as the thought sickened her, unless Tom began to recover soon Kathryn had the horrible feeling she was going to end up putting him in the brig just to keep him safe.

~~~

Chakotay walked so slowly and reluctantly in Kathryn's wake that he seemed to be en route to his own execution.

"Come on," she urged. "Just one drink."

"It's a bad idea," Chakotay replied.

"Nonsense. It's my idea, therefore it's a great idea, because *I'm* the Captain," Kathryn growled, only to ruin the effect by sniggering.

Chakotay smiled despite himself.

"Come on," Kathryn urged. "Come have a drink with me and I'll give you an update on Tom."

Chakotay snatched hungrily at the dangled bait. He was so desperate to hear her news that he barely noticed the fact that over half the crewmembers in Sandrine's rose pointedly at his entrance and stalked out.

Kathryn noticed though and glared so fiercely at the next table of occupants who were clearly planning to leave as though Chakotay carried the plague, that they seated themselves once more.

"How is he?" Chakotay asked, sipping cautiously at the double scotch the Captain had *bought* him.

"He's over the infection, he's rational most of the time," Kathryn said cautiously.

"And the rest of the time?" Chakotay demanded.

"Whenever he mentions you, he loses control."

"I told you he needs me," Chakotay replied. "Let me talk to him. I can calm him down. I can help him get better."

"No, you don't understand, Chakotay. It's not a case of him simply 'missing' you. He gets hysterical, crazy even. It's like he's addicted to you and just the slightest mention of your name knocks him sideways and back into madness."

"Tom isn't mad," Chakotay growled defensively.

"No," Kathryn agreed, "but the Doctor says he's skating on a thin line of sanity and it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge."

"Shit," Chakotay hissed, taking a deep gulp of his drink. The liquor burned his throat and threatened to liberate the tears that were clustered precariously at the back of his eyes.

"The problem is that he's not getting better and he can't stay in the Sickbay forever. I'm going to have to move him to somewhere equally secure though, unless his behavior changes radically."

Chakotay looked at her in dawning horror.

"The brig? You want to put him in the brig? That *will* push him over the edge."

"I know," Kathryn confessed. "That's why I want your help."

"My help?"

"I know you love Tom. Really love him. That's why I'm going to ask you this. I know how much it will hurt you but if you really love him, you'll do it."

"What?"

"I want you to tell Tom it's over between you. Cut him loose. Give him a chance to get over you before he destroys himself."

~~~

Tom double checked the electronic signature to be sure the padd hadn't been tampered with then he considered the hurtful words. Yes, they'd definitely been typed by Chakotay and signed by him too, but they were stilted, wrong, obviously contrived. There was no flow or emotion to the words.

"For a long time I've been thinking about our relationship. Only you have ever touched my heart. Reality can't be denied though. Everyone is saying I am harming you. Various recent incidents have proved them right. Even though I love you, I have decided that we can never see each other again. Refuse to accept this and I will be forced to leave the ship."

Tom read the padd again, then shifted the text, rearranging the sentences so that they stood one above each other. 

"For a long time I've been thinking about our relationship. 

Only you have ever touched my heart. 

Reality can't be denied though. 

Everyone is saying I am harming you. 

Various recent incidents have proved them right. 

Even though I love you, I have decided that we can never see each other again.  

Refuse to accept this and I will be forced to leave the ship."

Tom felt his heart jump in his chest. Then he looked over to where the Captain and Doctor were holding their breaths, obviously waiting for his hysterics.

Instead Tom gave a gentle smile.

"He's right," he said quietly. "We're no good for each other. It's time I accepted the truth."

Kathryn and the Doctor exchanged bewildered looks.

"I want to get well," Tom announced. "I'll start taking that medication I've been refusing and you can tell Tuvok that I've decided to take him up on his offer of counseling. It's time I let Chakotay go."

~~~

"How did he take it?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn gave him a perplexed look and reached a comforting arm out to touch his hand before replying.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Chakotay, but he read your note and he actually seemed relieved."

"Did he?" Chakotay asked steadily.

"Yes," Kathryn replied, still obviously bemused by Tom's reaction.

"Well, he's a smart man, Kathryn. He might be ill, but he's not stupid. He can read between the lines. He knows he'll never be allowed his freedom unless he shows you that he can let me go."

Kathryn nodded, still too relieved at Tom's unexpected compliance to figure out why Chakotay's answer bothered her.

~~~

"Lieutenant?" Chakotay asked calmly, his face expressionless except for the tightening of the skin around his eyes.

Tom moved stiffly into the room, his body taut with tension, his eyes refusing to meet Chakotay's face.

"Reporting for duty, Sir. The Doctor has finally cleared me to fly again," Tom told the wall behind Chakotay's head.

"Congratulations, Tom. I'm pleased you're feeling better."

"I am," Tom replied steadily. "Everything's a lot clearer now. I understand that I was confused. That I was attempting to avoid dealing with my problems and that's why I wasn't getting better. The Doctor has helped me a lot."

"I'm glad," Chakotay replied, forcing his voice to remain calm, determined not to allow his own heart-ache to show. 

"I appreciate that you did what you thought was best for me, what I asked you to do," Tom continued. "So although the Captain didn't think it was wise for me to do this, I wanted to tell you my decision to your face."

"Your decision?"

"I still love you, Chakotay. I always will. But we can't see each other that way any more. Our relationship is bad for me. I don't handle it well. I hope we can still work together, be friends at least."

"Of course," Chakotay replied. "I only want what's best for you."

Tom nodded.

"How's your arm?" Chakotay asked.

Tom rolled his uniform sleeve up and revealed the still livid scars.

"The Doc's mad about it. Says despite the infection he should have been able to remove it, but the skin simply won't regenerate. Seems I'm stuck with it forever."

"Forever," Chakotay repeated slowly.

Tom's eyes darted towards the winking camera in the corner of the office and he twisted his body slightly so that his right shoulder obscured his left arm. Only then did he use the fingers of his right hand to carefully trace the lines of the word carved on his flesh.

"Some things never fade," Tom murmured. "Some things never change, no matter how hard people try to change them."

He finally looked Chakotay in the face and it took all of Chakotay's self-control not to react to the clear message in those blue eyes.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Tom, and that you know what you want. I assure you that my feelings about our relationship are exactly the same as yours."

Tom gave a tiny shudder, his eyes closed briefly as he struggled for control. Then he used the distraction of rolling his sleeve back down to regain his composure.

For the benefit of their audience, Tom gave a casual shrug.

"Thank you for understanding, Commander," he said calmly, using his eyes alone to project his real meaning.

"I do," Chakotay assured him, reaching out his hand to shake Tom's in a gesture of dismissal.

Even Tuvok's eagle eyes on the monitor didn't register the tiny, comforting squeeze of Chakotay's hand around Tom's fingers. The gesture was too small, too insignificant, yet in the mingling gaze of the two men, a secret pact was agreed, a private vow reaffirmed.

FOREVER.

"Dismissed Lieutenant," Chakotay said softly.

"Sir," Tom replied equally calmly, and in front of the camera they both simply turned and walked away from each other, Chakotay to his desk, Tom out towards the Bridge.

~~~

"Lieutenant," Chakotay said politely, keeping his eyes fixed on the turbolift controls.

"Commander," Tom nodded, equally politely, stepping inside and moving to the far corner of the lift, his eyes fixed firmly ahead.

Between them, John Ashmore and Tim Curran exchanged surprised glances but said nothing. The turbolift halted on the next deck and the doors opened. John and Tim stepped forward to leave, then paused uncertainly.

"You okay, Paris?" John asked, gesturing rudely at Chakotay.

"Fine," Tom said softly. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

The two crewmen hesitated a moment longer, then realized they were not only going to be late for shift but possibly up on charges if they didn't get out of the lift. Tom had his comm. badge on, after all. He could soon summon help if that mad bastard Chakotay made a move on him.

The door closed, Chakotay quickly keyed in an over-ride to freeze the lift and Tom was in his arms, smothering his mouth with a hungry, desperate kiss.

"Four minutes," Chakotay warned, when he broke free of Tom's suctioning lips to grab a breath. "Then an alert will sound in Security."

Bitter frustration flashed over Tom's features, followed just as swiftly by a wry grin.

"Then let's stop wasting time," Tom purred, sinking to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Chakotay asked stupidly, as Tom began wrestling with Chakotay's pants.

Tom didn't even bother replying, not that he could have anyway with his mouth filled by Chakotay's cock.

~~~

"May I speak with you, Lieutenant?" Tuvok's voice rang from down the corridor.

Tom froze halfway into his quarters, fixed a blank look on his face and turned to greet the Vulcan. He pointedly didn't step back to allow Tuvok inside, deciding that keeping the conversation in the corridor would keep it short and hopefully unproductive.

"Crewman Ashmore went to see the Captain this morning," Tuvok said, gesturing vaguely that Tom should step back and let him in. 

"Really?" Tom said coolly, pretending not to notice the gesture.

"He was concerned about an incident that happened yesterday," Tuvok explained.

"Incident?" Tom asked innocently.

"Apparently he had to leave you alone in a turbolift with the Commander and he was sufficiently concerned about the situation to inform the Captain."

"Chakotay and I both work on the Bridge," Tom replied. "It's inevitable that we will sometimes share lifts, and equally inevitable that we will sometimes be alone in them."

Tuvok nodded.

"Nothing happened. I'm still in one piece. I haven't slit my wrists," Tom said, deciding a sarcastic offence was the best defense. "Do you want to check for yourself?"

"I checked the computer, there is no record of the lift halting, neither has the Doctor advised me of any problem with your daily medical," Tuvok replied, completely unembarrassed about his blithe admission of having already spied on Tom. "However, for your own safety and to prevent the possibility of any future unfortunate occurrence, the Captain has asked me to install monitoring devices inside the lifts. I decided it was only courteous to advise you."

As Tuvok turned and strode away, Tom sagged against the doorframe. He knew. Somehow, the bastard knew.

Even so, it was weird that he'd warned Tom about installing the cameras.

~~~

"Poker," Chakotay asked cautiously.

"Yes, Poker," Harry agreed. "Tom said you knew the game well."

Chakotay flushed with mingled anger and embarrassment.

"So?" he hissed.

"So B'Elanna and I were hoping you'd come over to our quarters and play tonight, since we're all off duty."

Chakotay shook his head.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Kim, and I also appreciate your continued efforts to befriend me in public, but I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, and B'El will be really pissed with you if you refuse," Harry replied staunchly. "We can't play alone and besides, I already told Tom you'd be there," he added in a near whisper.

"Tom?" Chakotay choked, then looked around warily to see whether anyone had heard him. Fortunately, everyone was still deliberately ignoring him, despite the fact that Tom had been back on duty for two weeks.

"I know they're monitoring you both, but you're allowed to socialize with each other in company. As long as there's four life-signs in our quarters there's no reason they'll suspect it's anything more than a friendly game of Poker."

"I…I…" Chakotay was speechless, he had to shake himself visibly to force back the tears of relief that were prickling at his eyes.

Harry reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Be strong," he whispered. "Tom needs you."

~~~

Chakotay barely stepped through the door to Harry and B'Elanna's quarters before he was almost bowled over by six foot of hurtling pilot. Tom wrapped himself around the older man, his lips and tongue devouring Chakotay's, his erection so prominent and hard through his trousers that it almost bruised Chakotay's hips as it ground against them. Chakotay realized there was little likelihood of them playing poker after all.

Tom refused to let him go, but he stilled enough in Chakotay's arms to allow Chakotay to speak to B'Elanna. Harry was awkwardly pretending to be busy with the deck of cards, his face flushed scarlet from witnessing Tom's display of wanton desire.

"We can't leave you completely alone," B'Elanna explained, "but the security sensors on this deck aren't precise enough to tell whether we're in the same room. I'm going to put some music on in here so that you have some privacy. There's fresh sheets and everything you need in the bedroom, including a fully charged regenerator since the Doctor is bound to find an excuse to give Tom a full examination tomorrow when he finds out you were here.  Don't worry if you fall asleep, we'll come and wake you if it gets too late."

"Why are you doing this?" Chakotay asked, once again having to battle tears of relief at this totally unexpected kindness.

B'Elanna shrugged.

"Because we love Tom, and he loves *you*, and besides, it feels good to get one over on Starfleet."

"Thank you," Chakotay said. The words sounded inadequate, even to himself, but he couldn't think of anything else to say, not with Tom squirming in his arms, his tongue hot on Chakotay's neck and his cock so aroused that Chakotay could feel the damp trace of Tom's pre-cum seeping through his own uniform. So he just swung Tom up into his arms and carried him into Harry and B'Elanna's bedroom.

Tom was trembling so much he could barely undress himself and as soon as Chakotay had stripped and revealed his own jutting, hungry cock, Tom just froze, too overwhelmed to even continue trying to remove his own clothes. He simply stood there, like a starving man presented with an unexpected feast and tears began to trickle down his face.

"God, I've missed you," he whispered helplessly.

Chakotay stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug, trying to infuse Tom's trembling body with his own strength.

"What do you want, Tom?" he asked gently. "How do you want me to be?" Tom seemed so fragile, so lost, that Chakotay was suddenly uncertain whether Tom really wanted anything more than a hug.

Tom pulled back and spoke clearly as he finished pulling off his pants.

"I don't want you to fuck me through the mattress, Chak," he said quietly. Then, before Chakotay could promise he'd be gentle, Tom continued. "I want you to fuck me into the next DECK."

Chakotay roared with laughter. "I think that would put us somewhere in the middle of Sickbay. We'd end up humping right in front of the Doctor."

"I know," Tom replied with a smirk. 

A new worry struck Chakotay.

"It's been weeks, Tom. You're going to be tight. Are you sure you can handle me being rough?"

Tom's smirk just increased.

"I know I got thrown out of the Academy, Chak, but I still remember the cadet drill about always being prepared."

He bent over the mattress of the bed, spreading his legs wide to reveal the fat, glistening end of a well-lubed butt plug. Chakotay leaned forward and worked it carefully free, his own cock jumping at the guttural sounds Tom made as the rubber plug scraped over his prostate. Chakotay gazed in disbelief at the plug.

"How the hell did you walk with that inside you?" Chakotay asked.

"Chak?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna talk all night?" Tom asked plaintively.

Chakotay chuckled. 

"Not all night, no," he assured Tom, proving his point by bending between Tom's open legs and licking the back of his scrotum. Tom squealed in surprise, arched his back and wriggled his ass pointedly. Chakotay decided to save the teasing for another night, pressed his cock against the well-lubed entrance of Tom's ass and drove home to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

Tom screamed and howled so loudly, as Chakotay took him with the relentless passion of six weeks of deprivation, that even the loud music in the next room didn't mask the sounds. When they finally emerged back into the living room after a long session with the shower and the regenerator, it was hard to tell who blushed more, Tom or Harry.  B'Elanna on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear.

"Hell, Tom. If I'd known you were THAT hot in bed, I would have kept you," she laughed, although she squeezed Harry's hand tightly to reassure him she was joking.  Kind of.

"I don't know how to thank you guys," Tom whispered, still blushing sheepishly but too ecstatic to worry about something as irrelevant as embarrassment.

"No problem," Harry said. "I think maybe we should play Poker EVERY Saturday from now on, don't you?"

And so, a new but infinitely sweeter version of Poker Night was born

~~~

Several months later, the four friends were sat in Harry and B'Elanna's living room, sipping wine. Tom, still flushed from the shower and the earlier sex, was curled on the floor at Chakotay's feet, his head resting on Chakotay's thigh with such obvious devotion that it hurt to observe.

"What are you going to do?" B'Elanna asked.

Chakotay stroked Tom's head and stayed quiet, leaving the younger man to reply.

"I've got my six month medical next week. The Doctor has no excuse to refuse to cite me fully sane. It means the Captain's temporary guardianship of my affairs will be cancelled and my normal rights will be restored. If I say I want to go out with Chakotay again, she won't be able to refuse."

"She could just have the Doctor pronounce you crazy again," Harry replied.

"No, it doesn't work like that. Unless I do something wrong, she'll have no excuse to have me assessed again, and without the assessment, I can't be found incompetent. She *has* to let me date Chakotay."

"I don't want to rain on your parade, Tom," B'Elanna said, her expression dour, "but I think you are underestimating how much the Captain cares about you."

"Cares about me?" Tom demanded angrily.

"Yes. I know she's been wrong to keep you two apart. If we didn't support you, Harry and I would hardly have been putting our jobs on the line for months to help you see each other in secret. However, the fact remains that everything the Captain has done has been with the best intentions. She's not going to appreciate being made to feel a fool. She's far more likely to read your decision as being proof that you *are* still unwell and she'll find an excuse to have you committed again, even if she has to invent a reason."

"She's right, Tom," Chakotay agreed sadly.

Tom surged to his feet in agitation.

"It's not fair, not fucking fair. I'm going to tell her exactly what she can do with her fucking committal and her *care*. She can stick her fucking care up her fucking.."

"TOM," Chakotay warned.

"I'm sick of this, Chak. Why won't people just leave us alone? I don't…I can't...Oh, shit, Chak, what are we going to do? I can't live like this anymore. Sneaking around. Pretending I don't care about you. It's not fair. It's not fucking FAIR!"

"Tom, calm down," Chakotay said softly, as Tom began pacing up and down the room in increasing panic.

B'Elanna and Harry were exchanging worried glances as Tom's thin veneer of control shattered in front of their eyes.

"It's not fair. Not fair. I won't do it, won't...can't…won't give you up Chak. We're forever. FOREVER!" Tom screamed the last word, his fist powering into the wall of the cabin. Then he howled in pain as his knuckles fractured against the unyielding metal.

Chakotay was already on his feet, charging to Tom's side, grabbing Tom into his arms. Tom struggled like a wild beast, his eyes wild with panic, too blind with terror to recognize his lover. Chakotay swung Tom into his arms, hauled him over to the sofa, and sat down heavily, twisting Tom's squirming body face down over his lap.

He pinned the small of Tom's back with his left hand and used his right to land a firm blow on Tom's backside.

Tom squealed and yelped in protest, the unexpected pain breaking through his panic as Chakotay continued to spank him in front of Harry and B'Elanna's disbelieving eyes.

"OW!" Tom yelled as the sixth blow descended on his thinly padded ass.

Chakotay stopped abruptly and pulled Tom up into his arms. 

"Bastard," Tom sniffed but he tucked his head into Chakotay's neck and clung tightly to him for comfort.

"Was that really necessary?" Harry spat, appalled to see his friend disciplined like a hysterical child. Even if Tom *had* been acting like a hysterical child.

Chakotay met his eyes unapologetically. 

"I know what Tom needs," he said simply.

"Well what he obviously *doesn't* need is a run in with the Captain," B'Elanna said. "He's not as stable as he looks, is he?"

"Exactly," Chakotay agreed. "If the Captain insists on him having a thorough psychological examination he hasn't got a chance."

"But I thought he was better," Harry said hesitantly.

"He is," Chakotay replied. "The thing is, Harry, that he's never going to be *completely* well. Between his childhood, Caldik Prime, Auckland, the last eight years and then the grand finale of three months as my fuck toy, he's never going to fit any textbook definition of sanity. If he wasn't so fucking strong, smart and brave, he'd be sitting in a padded room just rocking like an idiot."

"Which is how he'll end up if the Captain puts him in the brig to keep him away from you," B'Elanna pointed out.

Harry still looked unconvinced; he was glaring at Chakotay with righteous indignation.

"That doesn't give you the right to hit him," he spat. 

Chakotay opened his mouth to defend himself, but it was Tom who interrupted. He twisted on Chakotay's lap so he could look his friend in the eyes, and although his face was still tear-stained, the panic had fled his eyes, replaced by a soft happiness.

"He's got the right, Harry, because I gave him the right. I'm his, and he's mine, and we need each other," Tom said with quiet dignity.

Harry swallowed, unable to deny even to himself that Chakotay had known how to calm and comfort Tom, even if his methods seemed bizarre.

"What are you going to do, Tom?" he asked.

Tom twisted to look searchingly at Chakotay's face, but the older man just smiled gently, allowing Tom to decide for himself.

"We're going to have to get off the ship," Tom replied finally. 

"Leave Voyager?" Harry asked in horror.

Tom shrugged.

"Maybe, unless we can somehow get ourselves married."

"Married?" Harry said in confusion.

Now it was Chakotay who explained.

"Kathryn obviously won't agree to marry us, but once Tom gets diagnosed as competent we could jump ship on some planet and get ourselves married. Then, even if Tom is later judged insane, *I* become his legal guardian."

"We can't be separated," Tom added. "Starfleet rules are clear about non-interference between married couples."

"Sounds like a plan," B'Elanna agreed. "Let's hope we come across a suitable planet soon."

"And stay there long enough for Tom and Chakotay to do it," Harry pointed out. 

"Well," Tom said thoughtfully, "a minor crisis in engineering could ensure we need to stop and trade somewhere long enough for the Captain to agree to general shoreleave."

"You want me to blow up my own engine room? You ARE mad!" B'Elanna spat.

Tom just smiled angelically.


~~~

"Commander?"

The hesitant voice was so quiet that Chakotay barely registered it. He was absorbed in a report of the various items that Voyager was running low on. He had started his search several days earlier to devise a valid reason for stopping at some advanced civilization for trade. The exercise had begun as no more than an excuse to get Tom and himself off the ship but the more he had delved into the information the more he had begun to realize that Voyager had a serious shortage of far more than energy.

The Sickbay was seriously under stocked since their last encounter with the Borg, Neelix's already questionable cooking abilities were being stretched to the limit with the lack of perishable foodstuffs and the engineering sections were now stripping parts from shuttles to keep the main systems running. The skilled crewmembers were devising their own solutions to their individual problems rather than coming to see him, as First Officer, and so had managed to hide the extent of the overall situation.

He was concluding two things from the data. Firstly, that Voyager would eventually grind to a halt unless they stopped somewhere and traded seriously for supplies (regardless of whether the planet suited his own purposes) and secondly that unless he managed to regain the trust or at least the co-operation of the crew, he was going to have to resign as First Officer.

"Commander?"

The voice was still hesitant but now held a slight tone of irritation. It broke through Chakotay's introspection and he looked up in surprise. Other than Tuvok or Kathryn, no one had voluntarily come to his office for months.

"Lieutenant Wildman?"

Sam Wildman gave a nervous smile, her right hand fiddling awkwardly with her unbound blonde hair. So, despite her uniform, she was obviously off-duty, Chakotay concluded. Then he felt a momentary shame that it was only her loose hair that told him the fact. There would once have been a time when he would have known the duty roster of every member of staff. He hadn't been doing his job, he'd allowed  his own guilt and shame, not to mention the antipathy of the crew, to affect the performance of his own duties.

Chakotay straightened his shoulders and fixed a welcoming smile on his face, gesturing the young woman to take a seat and deciding to ignore her obvious nervousness and simply do his job. The job he had neglected for far too long.

"Sit down, Lieutenant. How can I help you?"

Sam cautiously seated herself, her awkwardness etched in every line of her body. She chewed hesitantly on her lower lip as her carefully rehearsed words fled in the face of Chakotay's presence.

"Would you like a drink?" Chakotay asked kindly. "Coffee? Tea? Water perhaps?"

Sam flashed him a grateful smile.

"Water," she agreed.

Chakotay fetched a jug of water and two glasses from the replicator. He was pleasantly surprised to note that Sam didn't follow his movements with her eyes, she just continued to look at the seat Chakotay had vacated. It gave him his first clue that her nervousness was not due to being in the same room with him after all and a tiny voice at the back of his head began to niggle him with the thought that perhaps the ongoing awkwardness between himself and the crew was as much his own fault as theirs.

"Thank you," Sam said, as she reached for the water he poured and took a long sip.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Chakotay asked quietly.

Sam blushed and ducked her head.

"I know you've got more important things to worry about," she began hesitantly, "and I've tried to deal with this myself rather than bother you, but whenever I come up with a solution, someone else always has a more important need for the resources and I'm beginning to feel like I'm running around in circles."

"What is the problem?"

"Naomi," Sam admitted. "Don't get me wrong, Sir. Everyone's great with her. Even Seven takes a lot of time with her, but it's not the same. It's not right."

"What's not right?"

"That she's growing up without any formal schooling. I mean, I understand the problems, Sir, but I think her education is important and every time I come up with some schedule that I can work with, either my shifts get changed or my terminal is taken off line because of problems elsewhere on the ship."

"I see," Chakotay said slowly.

"Do you?" Sam asked hesitantly. "I do understand that the situation on board will never be conducive to Naomi having a normal childhood, and in a way I feel that her experiences on Voyager are an education in themselves, but still, when we get home she has to be able to fit in to a normal world too."

"You're right," Chakotay replied. "Let's take a look at your duty schedule and fit it around Naomi's needs. Then when we've established the best time for her schooling I will place a priority code on your own terminal for that period of time. That will prevent routine power re-routing from taking it off line."

The look of complete, bewildered gratitude on Sam Wildman's face was enough for Chakotay to give himself a long overdue kick up the backside. He decided that as soon as he had finished solving her problem he would start summoning the various department heads to his office. If they wouldn't voluntarily come to him with their problems, he would start forcing the issue. It was time to prove that his rank wasn't just a title. 

~~~

Tom couldn't hide a wide grin of triumph as he left the Doctor's office holding a data padd that confirmed he was not only cleared for full duty but that he was now judged competent to handle his own affairs. Affairs. He'd had to stifle an inappropriate giggle at the terminology since the only affair he wanted to handle was Chakotay.

He wanted to run to Chakotay's office and wave the padd in his face, wanted to post a ship-wide announcement that from that day forward he would be living with Chakotay again. Instead he quietly returned to his quarters and sent a message to Harry that he would meet him after shift.

~~~

"Ensign Kim?" Chakotay asked formally.

Harry swallowed awkwardly, looking around at the tired faces of the crewmembers who were sifting through the cargo bay under Chakotay's direction.

"Sorry to disturb you, Sir. I thought you were off-duty tonight. I came to invite you to dinner."

He saw the flash of pain in Chakotay's eyes as the older man registered the unspoken message that Tom was waiting for him in Harry and B'Elanna's quarters.

"Good news?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"The best," Harry grinned.

Chakotay closed his eyes in relief, allowing himself just a few seconds to savor Tom's triumph, then he shook himself, looked Harry in the face and gestured helplessly at the surrounding chaos.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't see any of us getting away before midnight. The supply shortage I've been investigating seems to be far more serious than I imagined."

"You've got to eat, though," Harry pointed out loudly, realizing that Chakotay could hardly go off duty and leave the others working but surely no one would resent him disappearing for half-an-hour to eat, freshen up or whatever else Chakotay and Tom could manage in thirty minutes.

It was only when everyone stopped sifting through boxes and glanced surreptitiously over to Chakotay that Harry realized this was about far more than supplies, it was about Chakotay exerting his authority over people who had made no secret of their dislike for him and maintaining his control by proving that he was willing to work along side them.

"Perhaps you could arrange for Neelix to send supper over for all of us, Ensign Kim," Chakotay said quietly. "We're all tired and hungry."

"Of course, Sir. I understand," Harry said formally, giving Chakotay a private  nod to say that he would explain the situation to Tom.

~~~

Tom shuffled nervously at the helm. The viewscreen was completely filled by the dominating presence of a warship so huge that it made Voyager look like a shuttle in comparison. The aliens had so far ignored their request to change from verbal to visual communications and the combination of the unfriendly guttural voices coming through the comm. panel and the unmistakable gun ports trained on their own shields was enough to make the entire bridge crew wonder whether their request for peaceful trade was going to end with Voyager simply being vaporized.

It wasn't the general nervousness that was affecting Tom though, it was the fact that the negotiations had been going on for hours with little chance of success and it was now 2145 on Saturday night which meant 'Poker Night' would presumably have to be cancelled for another week.

Tom had understood why Chakotay hadn't been able to meet him on Wednesday, and  had managed to hold himself together in anticipation of tonight. The probability of having to wait a whole week more before it would be safe for him to meet with Chakotay out of public scrutiny was too much to face, though, and it was only the sound of Chakotay's calm voice as he negotiated carefully with the suspicious aliens that kept Tom from screaming his frustration out loud.

Chakotay's low, soothing voice seemed to eventually have a similar effect on the aliens. Their earlier hostility had eased somewhat since the Captain's temper had frayed at their continued obstinacy to her own entreaties and she had signaled that Chakotay should take over the conversation from their end, before retiring to her ready room in disgust. Now, several hours later, the aliens finally agreed that Voyager could follow them towards their homeworld to continue the discussion. By that time, the whole crew were in agreement that it would probably be wiser to politely decline and move on to a friendlier world but there didn't seem to be any way of refusing the alien 'invitation'.

"You will follow the proscribed flight pattern. Any deviation from the set course will result in the destruction of your vessel."

Tom shivered slightly at the cold menace of the words. He could feel the eyes of the entire bridge crew fastening on the back of his head as they evidently prayed he wouldn't fuck up. His entire self-confidence collapsed under the obvious doubt of his crewmates and his hands shook as he reached for the helm.

Then a large hand descended on his shoulder and squeezed reassurance. Tom spun his head round to look at Chakotay who had crossed the bridge so quietly that Tom hadn't even heard him approach. Tom beamed at Chakotay's face, drinking in the comfort of Chakotay's smile, then he stiffened as he realized they were being observed.

"Have you fixed the course settings, Lieutenant?" Chakotay asked aloud, while his fingers made their own conversation on Tom's shoulder.

"Yes, Sir," Tom replied, only his sparkling eyes answering Chakotay's secret gesture of love and faith.

"Then proceed," Chakotay said, giving one last squeeze before returning to his seat.

~~~

Kathryn regarded the somber faces of the Senior Staff and sighed internally. She knew the whole crew had been looking forward to the idea of some shore leave and the Carskoni's absolute refusal to allow anyone to descend to the planet below was going to cause a lot of resentment.

"Please advise your individual departments that as soon as the negotiations are complete and we have traded with the Carskoni, we will leave this system and find an uninhabited m-type planet to orbit while we implement the systems repairs. We can't turn down the technology they are offering us but we can wait until we are at a more hospitable planet before installing it."

Her decision was met with general smiles of relief. Only Tuvok noted the look of despair that crossed Tom's face at the news. He then saw Chakotay shift slightly in his seat and from the immediate mask of bland indifference that shuttered over Tom's features, Tuvok concluded that Chakotay had kicked Tom under the table.

Observing the exchange, Tuvok's suspicions crystallized into certainty.

~~~

"Typical," Harry spat.

"What is?" B'Elanna asked, her voice muffled by the wardrobe as she rummaged frantically for shoes to match her only decent dress.

"We sit here, twiddling our thumbs for three days and now, when the trading is finally over and we're preparing to leave, the Carskoni decide to invite us down to the planet after all."

"Well only the Senior Crew," B'Elanna pointed out, "and the Captain didn't even want to agree to that since it leaves Voyager vulnerable."

"Since we're surrounded by Carskoni warships that could blow us out of the sky, we can hardly be any more vulnerable anyway," Harry griped.

"Which is why she finally agreed," B'Elanna said. "Do you think these shoes are better?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said helplessly, not seeing any significant difference from the last three pairs. "I just feel bad for Tom and Chakotay."

"The dinner is only going to be three hours, Harry. They could hardly do anything significant in that amount of time and Carskon doesn't seem to be the kind of place you'd want to abscond to anyway."

"I know," Harry agreed. "Still, it seems weird that Tuvok made such a point about not letting Tom attend. If the Carskoni can't be trusted, it's hardly going to make any difference whether our pilot is on the surface or on Voyager, is it?"

"Well, whatever his reason was for interfering, Chakotay stopped arguing with him after he went down to the surface himself."

"Yeah, that's weird too, isn't it? Chakotay was screaming blue murder about Tom's exclusion and then suddenly changed his mind completely. What do you think that means?"

"It means he obviously doesn't plan to run away with Tom on Carskon," B'Elanna replied. "I'm sure we'll soon find out why for ourselves."

~~~

Kathryn gestured Tuvok to a seat and gave him a smile of invitation to unburden himself. Despite the typical lack of expression on his face, she had known him too long not to sense his discomfort.

"What's on your mind, Tuvok?" she asked. "Is this about your reasons for excluding Tom from the Carskoni's invitation?"

"The Commander's own report on the aliens is sufficient reason to refuse Mr. Paris's participation in tonight's festivity. It is a logical assumption that he would find the situation disturbing in view of his own experiences."

"I find it disturbing myself, Tuvok. Had I realized the Carskoni had a culture based on slavery I wouldn't have entered negotiations with them. I certainly am not looking forward to spending an evening with people who believe it is acceptable to own another person. We can't refuse their hospitality now, however. Offending them would put Voyager in too much danger."

"I concur. It is not our position to make moral judgments on other civilizations, Captain. From what the Commander has described, the Carskoni are not barbaric and although it was obvious that there are two distinct castes, slaves and masters, he saw no evidence of cruelty and no suggestion that the slaves are discontent. His main concern relates to how Lieutenant Paris would react to the situation."

Kathryn nodded thoughtfully.

"I agree with both of you that Tom should stay on Voyager," she replied. "What I still want to know, though, is why you made that decision *before* you discovered the situation below. For some reason you were adamant that Tom shouldn't leave the ship and I want to know why."

His completely unexpected answer sent her reeling into her own chair.

"If Mr. Paris were to resume his relationship with the Commander, what would your reaction be?" Tuvok asked.

"Has he spoken to you?" Kathryn asked, as she gathered her thoughts from where they had immediately scattered in panic.

"No," Tuvok replied. "I am asking the question as a theoretical point, at the moment."

"Then my truthful reply would be that I would do everything within my power to keep them apart," Kathryn replied finally.

Tuvok merely nodded thoughtfully, as though her answer had been expected. He steepled his fingers, narrowing his eyes as he pondered carefully how to continue the conversation.

"May I point out that your decisions regarding the handling of Mr. Paris have been inconsistent, Captain. It was, if you recall, your own suggestion that their relationship be resumed after the Commander's suicide attempt."

"I did what seemed best at the time. Chakotay was suicidal, Tom was suffering from clinical depression, allowing them to continue their relationship seemed the only way to save them both," Kathryn said defensively.

"Yet, you then decided that their relationship was harmful."

"It was harmful to Tom. What the hell was I supposed to do? Stand back and watch a member of my crew carving words into his own flesh? It was obvious that Chakotay had found some way to deal with his own guilt, he was no longer likely to take his life. My decision had to be based on what I judged best for Tom. This last six months has proven me right. He's back at the helm, his response times are almost back to normal. I don't expect him to simply "get over" Chakotay, but I'm putting my foot down here. Whatever the Doctor says about Tom's mental health, the idea of allowing Tom to resume his relationship with Chakotay is out of the question."

"It is not your decision to make," Tuvok replied quietly.

"WHAT?" Kathryn demanded, her whole body stiffening with outrage.

"Personal relationships between crewmembers, unless proven to be detrimental to the welfare of the entire crew, are not under the jurisdiction of the Captain. While the Lieutenant was judged mentally incompetent, you had the authority to decide who he did or did not socialize with. Now he has passed the Doctor's assessment, your autonomy over his personal life has been cancelled."

"You said it yourself, Tuvok, 'unless proven to be detrimental to the welfare of the entire crew' and I think the possible suicide of Voyager's best pilot is detrimental, don't you?" Kathryn spat.

"Mr. Paris's actions during his illness are not admissible now as justification for that decision. It is the professional opinion of the Doctor that Mr. Paris is now capable of stable and intelligent choices in his personal life."

"The Doctor who just happened to also tell me that Tom was having a breakdown and advised me to put him in Chakotay's hands in the first place. He's a hologram, Tuvok," Kathryn replied angrily.

"Are you inferring that the Doctor's programming has been interfered with to sway his decision?" Tuvok asked, his shoulders stiffening in personal affront.

"No, of course not. I know you have taken personal responsibility for ensuring that the Doctor cannot be interfered with and I have complete trust in you, my friend," Kathryn assured him hurriedly.

"Then your difficulty is clearly a lack of faith in yourself."

Kathryn's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to violently deny the accusation. Then she sighed and shrank slightly in her seat, an aura of haunted doubt settling over her like a tangible weight.

"Of course I lack faith in myself. It's my fault, Tuvok. All of it. I'm the Captain of this ship, Tom's superior officer. The day I offered him his commission I told him he was safe on board Voyager. I vowed to protect him, I even assured him that Chakotay would be his personal protector. I was blind, Tuvok. I saw nothing. I knew Tom was the most vulnerable member of this merged crew and should have expected problems. The retrieved files from Sickbay prove that Tom spent the first six months of our Voyage being systematically abused by the Maquis, to the point of almost dying on several occasions, and I knew nothing. NOTHING!" She slammed her right palm down on her desk to emphasize her frustration.

"The Lieutenant chose not to inform you of the abuse, Captain. I could go as far as suggesting that he made every effort to conceal his problems from you," Tuvok pointed out in a mild voice.

"Because he didn't trust me, Tuvok. Hardly surprising, is it? I'd promised him safety and then I'd thrown him to the wolves. No wonder he saw me as his enemy too. Then, despite him spending several years proving his value as an officer, his strength and his talent as a pilot, I never questioned the Doctor's diagnosis of his nervous breakdown. I gave him to Chakotay, Tuvok. I virtually gift-wrapped and delivered him for that abuse."

"I also was completely fooled by the situation," Tuvok replied. "The Commander managed to conceal his illness from the entire crew. I was under-cover on the Crazy Horse before you even met the Commander. To that extent, my own failure to identify his madness is greater than your own."

"But you're not the Captain. It wasn't *your* responsibility, it was mine. I don't sleep, you know? I close my eyes and all I see is the hell Tom went through because *I* didn't do my duty to him, because I failed him. I can't forgive myself, Tuvok."

"And you are now trying to compensate for your own guilt by denying Tom the right to make his own choices." 

"Is that so wrong? How the hell can I stand back and just let him be destroyed? I have failed Tom Paris since the first day he set foot on my ship. I refuse to fail him again. I have to do what I judge is right, not what Tom says he wants. He's lost the ability to know what is right or wrong for him," Kathryn explained. "Whatever happiness Tom and Chakotay could find together isn't worth the risk to Tom's sanity if it goes wrong again." 

"And when did you gain the ability to make the correct choices on his behalf, Captain?"

Kathryn reeled as though Tuvok had slapped her. She gazed at him in disbelief as he continued his unexpected verbal attack.

"Since you have already admitted that your decisions relating to Mr. Paris have been consistently erroneous, it is unlikely that your current decision is any more correct. You are still allowing your decisions to be based upon emotions rather than facts. While I do not agree with the extent of culpability that you choose to lay at your own feet, if you continue to use that personal guilt to influence your decisions to the point of bending Starfleet Rules, I predict that the outcome will be injurious to us all."

"Are you making a formal protest, Tuvok?" Kathryn snarled, her whole body tensing in anticipation of a bitter argument.

"I believe such an action would be irrelevant Captain. As you have already stated, it would be detrimental for Voyager to lose Lieutenant Paris. It would be possibly more detrimental to lose the Commander, yet the proscribing of their relationship will inevitably cause both men to chose to leave the ship," Tuvok replied calmly.

"Nonsense. Neither of them argued with my decision to separate them six months ago. They both are continuing their duties. There's no reason to believe they even want to resume their relationship. It's been a week since Tom's assessment and he hasn't as much as suggested that he wants to see Chakotay again.  Chakotay himself has finally started to overcome the antipathy of the crew. These past few days he's been running people ragged over the supplies problem and I've received barely a handful of complaints. As far as I can see, they are both determined to just get on with their own lives."

"Your statement is erroneous, Captain, because you are not fully aware of several relevant facts."

"Such as?"

"The fact that Lieutenant Paris and Commander Chakotay have been meeting each other surreptitiously for over five months. From their failure to request official sanction of their relationship, I conclude that their intention has been to resign from their posts and leave Voyager. Although the supply problem is genuine, I believe that the Commander's decision to investigate it was initially inspired by his desire to find an excuse to stop at an advanced civilization where he and Mr. Paris can begin a life together. That is why I initially prevented Mr. Paris's inclusion in tonight's event. I was concerned that if they both disembarked, they would possibly not return to the ship."

"I don't believe it."

"It is, however, the truth."

"How long have you known?"

"I have been constantly aware of their subterfuge," Tuvok admitted.

"And you didn't tell me? I thought I could trust you, Tuvok. Now it turns out that you've been betraying me for months?" Kathryn accused, her cheeks flushing with rage.

"It was not betrayal, Captain. It was the logical response to the situation."

"And how the hell do you figure that?"  she demanded.

"The situation with Mr. Paris and your personal feelings of guilt were affecting your performance as Captain of the ship. Informing you of their continued assignations would merely have increased the pressure that you were already under. I made the decision to monitor the situation personally and advise you only if I saw a problem develop."

"You saw no problem in the fact that they were breaking my orders?"

"As I have already stated, I do not believe the mandate of a Captain includes interference in emotional attachments. The only justification for your order was to protect Mr. Paris from harm. The decision to separate him from the Commander was based on emotion. Logic suggested that it was an inappropriate reaction to the situation."

"So you're saying you personally decided my order was illogical and disobeyed it?"

"*I* did not disobey, Captain. I merely observed," Tuvok replied, with a barely perceptible shrug.

"Why didn't you bring this 'observation' to my attention months ago?"

"Because the subterfuge in itself has been beneficial to several important members of this crew, not least yourself. You have been unencumbered by the knowledge so have not been forced to agree to a situation which could have escalated back into tragedy. The only way to enforce their separation, given their determination to continue their relationship, would have been to arrest one or the other for disobeying your orders. I could not have agreed with the decision to incarcerate the Commander for breaking an order that you were exceeding your authority in issuing. You could  have isolated Mr. Paris since he was completely under your authority due to his illness. That, however, would have probably sent Mr. Paris further into a state of depression and Voyager would have lost her best pilot."

"So you took it upon yourself to let them see each other in secret, knowing that Tom was still unstable and might have harmed himself again?" Kathryn snarled.

"I have been monitoring them constantly. Had their relationship proven to be detrimental, I would have admitted my knowledge, accepted the blame for allowing the situation to develop and you would have been spared the additional guilt. The necessity to keep the relationship secret has had several salutary effects. Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres have been actively encouraging and facilitating the relationship. In this way they have found some manner of personal redemption for their own feelings of guilt. You are not the only person who feels responsible for what happened to Mr. Paris."

"So these Poker Evenings were actually four members of my own crew defying my explicit orders?" Kathryn demanded, her eyes narrowing in fury.

"If you choose to see it that way, Captain."

"How the hell else am I supposed to see it?"

"Another benefit of the subterfuge is that the relationship has proceeded slowly and with care," Tuvok continued, deliberately ignoring the question. "Because of the need for secrecy and the constant chaperonage, the progression of the relationship has been cautious. The resolve of both parties has been tested. Had their need for each other merely been physical attraction, the difficulty of their assignations would have caused them to move on to new partnerships. In the adversity of this enforced separation, their feelings for each other have deepened."

"So why haven't they simply started dating again now that the Doctor has removed Tom from my guardianship?"

"I suspect that they believe you will interfere, Captain. As indeed you have already said that you would."

"Look, Tuvok. I'm pissed as hell at you, make no mistake. You *will* pay for this deceit," Kathryn growled

"I do not doubt it," Tuvok replied calmly.

"But, I'm honest enough to admit that I'm relieved they took the decision out of my hands. All I wanted, all I *ever* wanted, was to put things right for Tom. The fact that I haven't known about the relationship hopefully means it hasn't harmed either of them since the Doctor has been monitoring Tom for evidence of any physical abuse, particularly self-inflicted injuries."

"Then you will advise them that their relationship may continue?"

"No," Kathryn replied.

Tuvok blinked in disbelief.

"I understand your decision not to interfere, Tuvok. It was 'logical', just as it seems logical to me not to interfere either. So they can do what they want but I refuse to officially sanction it."

"Why?"

"Because the very fact that Tom is still so obsessed with Chakotay tells me that the Doctor's assessment of his mental state is wrong. No one could forgive what Chakotay did, Tuvok. No one could suffer what Tom suffered and come out of the experience with true feelings of love for his captor, no matter what extenuating circumstances existed."

"In your opinion," Tuvok interrupted.

Kathryn shrugged. "It's up to them to prove me wrong, isn't it?"

"So you will neither prevent their relationship nor condone it?"

"As you have already pointed out, Tuvok, my own interference in this has never done any good. As long as they can both do their jobs, as long as Tom remains stable, I'll turn a blind eye and allow the situation to develop naturally."

"Yet in failing to advise them of your decision, you will force them to continue their subterfuge," Tuvok pointed out.

"It's up to them to fight for what they want, Tuvok. If they aren't prepared to stand up to me publicly then their relationship will never survive anyway."

"So, if they force your hand you will concede?"

"Perhaps," Kathryn allowed.

~~~

"You can't," Tom replied, as the Captain told him of her decision. "You said the Carskoni had demanded the presence of *all*  Voyager's officers. So that means I need to be included in the away team too. You can't single me out like this. You don't have the right to make decisions for me any more."

Kathryn reined in her automatic anger at Tom's insubordination and forced herself to reply civilly to his protest. Despite Tom's angry words, it was obvious that he was deeply distressed by her decision and she was beginning to wonder whether it was possible to even make a right choice in the minefield of Tom's emotional reactions.

What was the point of protecting him from possible distress on the surface of Carskon if the decision to do so upset him so much anyway? Kathryn wondered glumly, feeling the first twinges of a headache starting to hammer behind her eye sockets. Even so, Chakotay's detailed description of what he had observed on the planet, when he'd returned from his trade negotiation on the surface bearing the 'invitation' of the Carskoni, was enough for Kathryn to be sure Carskon wasn't a place that Tom would enjoy visiting. 

If there had been any polite way to decline the Carskoni invitation, none of the crew would be descending to the planet anyway.  It was only the implication that a refusal of the invitation would be seen as a gross insult that had made Kathryn agree to attend at all. Since Voyager was completely outgunned by the surrounding Carskoni vessels, the risk of a possible trap was far outweighed by the chance to establish a friendly rapport with the aliens, but Kathryn had no illusions about the possible danger to them all. 

It was a delicate situation in which a mere cultural misunderstanding could prove fatal to the whole crew. Which was why she couldn't take the risk that Tom might over-react to the conditions on the surface and create a diplomatic incident. 

"As the Captain of this ship I have the right to decide the displacement of any of my officers, Mr. Paris, and as Tuvok pointed out, your position as Chief Helmsman makes you invaluable to the ship," she replied, appealing to Tom's ego in an attempt to soften the blow of his exclusion.

"More valuable than the Captain and First Officer, let alone all the other officers on board?" Tom scoffed, having little genuine ego to be stroked. "I know exactly why you've chosen to exclude me, Captain and I want to make a formal protest."

"A what?" Kathryn demanded in disbelief.

"For the last six months I've agreed to you treating me like I'm a liability, Captain, but the Doctor's given me a clean bill of health. Your decision to exclude me from the away team just proves that you still don't trust me and maybe never will. Come to think of it, maybe you never did," Tom said bitterly.

During the last few months, in the enforced loneliness of his existence between Saturday nights, Tom had found himself with a lot of time to think about things and try to put his experiences in perspective. The one fact that had begun to prey heaviest on his mind was that despite Chakotay's clever manipulation of people's perceptions, if anyone had ever really trusted him, no-one would have simply accepted the diagnosis of his so-called nervous breakdown.

The way Tom saw it, the general willingness to believe him so mentally unstable that he should simply be discarded into Chakotay's 'care' and forgotten about, proved that no one had ever truly seen him as more than a traitor and coward despite all the years he had spent trying to prove himself a reformed character.

The vengeful ghosts of Caldik Prime were still exacting their bitter revenge and he was beginning to believe that he would never escape the indelible stain of one tragic mistake that had set his feet on a spiraling pattern of self-destruction. It didn't matter what he did, no one would ever forgive him that error or ever truly believe that he was worthy of a genuine new start.

The Captain had given him a Lieutenant's rank and had pretended to have faith in him, but the moment someone accused him of being unstable it hadn't even occurred to her to doubt the fact. Tom was sure that the Captain would never have simply given up on Tuvok or Harry in the same circumstances. The obvious difference between his own perceived stability and that of the rest of the crew could only be explained by his own past. 

Tom Paris, the Admiral's fuck-up son, the murderer and liar of Caldik Prime, the would-be Maquis who got caught on his very first mission and then sold out his own former comrades just to escape the hell of his life in Auckland. Yeah, with a pedigree like that, who the hell wouldn't believe that he was just as likely to have a nervous breakdown? His own history suggested that in times of crisis Tom Paris simply fell apart and it seemed that all his subsequent years of proving himself a good and valued officer, when weighed on the scale of probability, had failed to make any true impression against the crew's original impression of him as unreliable.

Of course, the fact that he had then *really* had a breakdown probably made the crew feel less guilty about falling for Chakotay's ruse. Tom suspected that a lot of their reaction was due to fear. Just like at Caldik Prime.  Rather than accept that anyone could have an accident flying a shuttle and then tell a stupid lie out of fear, people had preferred to cast Tom as a villain. That way they didn't have to face the idea that it could have happened to themselves just as easily.  In the same way, it was easier for people to believe that Tom was already mentally unstable than face the fact that any one of them could suffer a similar experience and be as adversely affected by it. 

By labeling him as mad, and therefore different from them, it was easier for the rest of the crew to see his abuse at Chakotay's hands as an isolated incident. There was pity for him, sure, but the overwhelming feeling that Tom experienced was that everyone believed it had only happened to him *because* he was Tom Paris.

Even Harry and B'Elanna were guilty of treating him as though in some way the whole experience had been his own fault. As much as he appreciated their support over the last few months, there had still always been an unspoken censure behind their kind smiles. They gave him sympathy rather than empathy because they simply couldn't see themselves behaving as he had in the same situation. He avoided them now, except when he needed their chaperonage to prevent anyone questioning the fact that he and Chakotay were in the same room.

It made him feel a little guilty, as though he was using them, but the truth was that without the buffer of Chakotay between himself and his interaction with the other crew, Tom was still finding it almost impossible to maintain civil conversations off-duty. The truth, perhaps, was that he had found it in his heart to forgive Chakotay but he was finding it a hell of a lot harder to forgive everyone else. It wasn't so much the fact that they had abandoned him to the wolf, as much as that in doing so they had proven that none of them really liked or cared about him anyway. It made their current sympathy for his situation seem less like friendship and more like an overcompensating guilt because they had let something unpleasant happen to an unpopular crewmember. So now they were pretending to like him, simply to soothe their own consciences. 

Tom had walked into rooms and caught the tail-end of enough hastily ended conversations to realize that the feeling of mild distaste towards him was general all over the ship. People weren't saying "Isn't it terrible what Chakotay did?" they were saying "Isn't it terrible what Tom let Chakotay do?"  The general consensus seemed to be that any 'normal' person would rather have died than submit to the abuse Tom had suffered. Rather than face the reality that they would have been as terrified and helpless in the same situation, they preferred to see Tom's survival as proof that he was already unstable when Chakotay had taken him.

Tom didn't believe the Captain was among his detractors. For one thing she was aware of far more details of his captivity than were publicly known. He knew the Captain felt genuine guilt over what had happened and that her current decisions, even those pertaining to his relationship with Chakotay, were inspired by a sense of responsibility. As B'Elanna had said, the Captain 'cared' about him. The problem was that Tom didn't want to be 'cared for' as though he was no more than an awkward problem that wouldn't go away.

He wanted the respect of the Captain, he wanted her faith in his abilities, he wanted his rank to mean what he'd imagined it did when she originally offered it. At the time, he'd believed in Janeway. He'd truly thought she was giving him a fresh start. In retrospect he was beginning to believe it had been no more than a subtle bribery to keep him under control. Stuck in the Delta Quadrant, with the necessity to combine the Maquis and Starfleet Crews into one, Janeway had probably seen him as just one more problem to contend with. Given the choice between keeping him in the brig or putting him to work, she had offered the Lieutenant's rank simply to make him so grateful that when she said 'jump', he'd say 'how high?'

It seemed so obvious now, looking back, that she'd played him for a fool with her outrageous generosity. He'd have been content simply by the offer to be allowed to fly the ship as a crewman, or maybe an Ensign even, but to have been made the Chief Helmsman, put fourth in the line of command for the ship, should have rung warning bells in his head then and there. Tom was damned certain that if anything had ever happened to Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok, the rest of the crew would have spaced him before accepting his orders.

Accepting that though, that his promotion had just been a bone offered him to keep him obedient, wasn't the problem. Janeway had done exactly the same when she had made the Maquis her crew. Both decisions had been classic Starfleet. Keep your enemies right under your nose, flatter them with your supposed trust and give them better treatment than they can rightfully expect just to keep them docile. No, the problem was that over the years the Maquis had managed to shed their criminal pasts and become respected members of the crew, while he, Tom Paris, was still just perceived as a fuck-up loser with a fancy title.

Tom was honest enough to know that his perception of the situation was probably tainted by his experiences over the last year. No matter that he had fooled the Doctor into giving him a clean bill of health, Tom knew in himself that there was still something seriously off-kilter in his own psyche. It was as though he'd managed to drag enough publicly respectable behavior patterns onto his outward demeanor that he could play the role expected of him, but he felt like an actor playing a role. Under his calm exterior, fear still scuttled constantly like a frantic spider, burrowing deep enough in the recesses of his own mind to avoid detection but never truly leaving him, except when Chakotay was by his side.

Sometimes he worried that his dependence on Chakotay proved his detractors to be correct. Yet, his need for the Commander didn't *feel* unhealthy, it felt more right than anything in his previous experience. He'd spent his whole life trying to stand alone and all it had ever brought him was pain and heartache. He'd never loved before, never trusted before, and the fact that he felt incomplete and vulnerable without Chakotay didn't mean he was less of a person. Truth was, he'd always felt incomplete and vulnerable but had hidden it behind a veneer of cocky  indifference. Surely the fact that he was finally facing the truth that he *needed* another person to ground him was actually a step forward. He was beginning to accept that it was his nature to need the love and approval of another person to make his own life seem worthwhile.

Maybe that was the real reason for his own fucked up life. Perhaps if his own family had given him just a tiny measure of the affection that Chakotay offered him, Caldik Prime would never have happened. If he had believed in himself, if he had believed himself worthy of love back then, he'd never have been tempted to try and win the approval of his peers by an act of reckless bravado.

His love for Chakotay wasn't a weakness, except in the fact that his own inexperience with the emotion left him ill-equipped to handle his feelings. Impossible to try to explain to the rest of the crew that he'd never been loved before and so was unfamiliar with the concept, without simply adding to the general consensus that he was a sad pitiable figure who should spend the rest of his life in a soft padded room.

He wanted people to see that his choice of Chakotay as his lover was the sane and rational choice of a man who finally knew his own mind, not the desperate act of a shell-shocked victim who was just clinging onto Chakotay's shirt-tail because he was too afraid to let go and face life on his own.

"You don't trust me," Tom repeated, and the fact that his words were the truth simply made them a sharper dagger into Kathryn's already beleaguered soul. 

Kathryn bit back her automatic response that she was hardly likely to trust him given his subterfuge for the last five months. She wasn't prepared to open that particular can of worms yet. Chakotay's reaction to the conditions on the surface at least reassured her that Tom's insistence on being included in the away team wasn't an attempt to abscond from the ship. 

Given that understanding, it was easier to look at it from Tom's point of view. With every other officer attending the Carskoni ceremony, it was painfully obvious to everyone that Tom's own exclusion was based upon concern over his emotional state. Kathryn knew Tom believed his absence on the away mission would be a public setback to the progress he was making in regaining the respect of the rest of the crew.  Since the last six months hadn't yet convinced Tom that the whole crew were genuinely impressed with how well he had pulled himself back together, there was no point in assuring Tom that no one would think any less of him for not attending. All she could do was make sure that Tom accepted her decision and she wasn't above using a little emotional blackmail of her own.

"It's not a matter of trust. Even Chakotay agrees that it would be unwise for you to join tonight's festivities," she pointed out.

Tom blinked in confusion at her choice of argument. He hadn't spoken to Chakotay privately for nine days and unless some miracle occurred he wasn't expecting to get an opportunity to be alone with him before Saturday. His initial reaction to Kathryn's words, that if Chakotay didn't want him to go then he wouldn't, was quickly swept away by his overall feeling of resentment over his enforced separation from the older man. He had no illusions that he would get the opportunity to do more than exchange idle chat with Chakotay in front of the other officers and the alien hosts but, even so, the idea of spending the evening in the same room with his lover was better than sitting alone in his quarters and screaming his frustration at the walls.

"Why?" Tom demanded.

"Because it appears from what Chakotay observed that the Carskoni practice a wide-spread and public system of slavery, Tom. He says that each of the officials we are dining with will be attended by a personal slave. Under the circumstances we believe that the situation will be too reminiscent of your experiences during Chakotay's illness."

"I see," Tom said slowly, his face draining of color.

"So you understand our decision?" Kathryn asked hopefully.

"No," Tom replied proudly. "I understand that you would be concerned about my reaction if you still believed me incapable of dealing with my own experiences. Since I have proven that I have come to terms with what happened to me, I find your decision to be a personal insult. You have decided that I will fail to act appropriately and that shows that you have no faith in me."

"Can't you simply see that it's a measure of how much we care about you that we want to save you from a potentially distressing situation?"

"No," Tom replied. "All I see is that every senior member of staff is being invited to this dinner except me. That doesn't tell me you care, it just says you don't trust me."

~~~

It was one thing winning the argument, quite another to put his success into action, Tom decided, as he gazed helplessly at the items in his wardrobe. He'd not cared about his appearance in over a year except for the need to hide his dramatic weight loss. The only public socializing he had done for months had been his 'Poker Nights' and all he had been interested in then was putting on clothes that could be removed in the shortest possible time.

So it was only now, with barely fifteen minutes before the away team were due to descend to Carskon, that he finally realized he had nothing suitable to wear.

He laughed a little hysterically at the thought. It reminded him too much of how B'Elanna used to spend hours trolling through her own wardrobe deciding on exactly what item of clothing she could don (and then pretending that she'd just thrown on the first thing she'd seen because she didn't think vanity suited her Klingon image.)

Nevertheless, it was true enough in his case. Other than his uniforms, a couple of pairs of jeans, t-shirts and the odd casual shirt, practically nothing in his wardrobe still fit him and he hadn't even realized before this moment. The shirt and pants he usually wore on a Saturday were still sprawled in a heap with his dirty uniforms and he hadn't got time to put them in the refresher. Seeing them, it finally occurred to him that Chakotay had never once mentioned the fact that he always wore the same outfit. Then again, the clothes never stayed on long enough for Chakotay to notice what he was wearing anyway.

"I guess Chak *still*  prefers me without clothes," Tom muttered to himself, but there was less bitterness in the realization than he would have anticipated. To tell the truth, these days he found clothing in Chakotay's presence to be no more than an encumbrance anyway. So his memories of the humiliation of being naked in Chakotay's presence were being gradually eroded and rendered harmless by the newer memories of delighting in Chakotay's obvious appreciation of his looks.

He found a half-decent pair of black trousers that were only a few inches too large around the waist and tried on a slightly rumpled but clean white shirt. He checked in the mirror. It wasn't the most stylish outfit in the world but it was respectable and definitely casual which was what the Carskoni had insisted upon. It was obvious to all of them that the demand that the away team wore casual clothing was simply an excuse to also forbid them bringing weapons down but, as the Captain had pointed out, since they were only accepting the 'invitation' to prevent the Carskoni simply disintegrating Voyager in orbit there was no point worrying about whether they could take hand weapons down to the surface.

The only problem with Tom's outfit was that the shirt sleeves were three-quarter length and any movement of his arms made the still vivid scar on his left arm too visible. Tom wasn't ashamed of the mark. To be honest, when he was alone of an evening he would spend hours tracing the letters with his fingers, finding comfort in the word which remained his only constant promise that Chakotay was always with him, in spirit if not in body. But it would probably shock the hell out of the rest of the Officers, let alone the Carskoni, and more importantly it might embarrass Chakotay if attention was drawn to the scar.

He couldn't see a solution to the problem though. It was too late to borrow something off Harry and even if he'd had credits to spare to replicate a new shirt, the replicators were off-line in preparation for the installation of a new power source they had acquired from the Carskoni. Because it clashed with the existing systems, B'Elanna had taken all 'non-essential' systems off-line while Engineering ran tests.

At that moment, the replicator seemed damned essential to Tom, but with just five minutes to go before he was left behind anyway, Tom had no choice except to put on the shirt. Maybe if he just kept his arms clamped to his sides, no-one would notice the scar.

~~~

Chakotay was furious with Kathryn. He understood her decision. Hell, he understood all the decisions she had made, but he didn't have to like them. 

Standing in the transporter room, seeing Tom approach in clothes two sizes too large, as though he was still trying to hide his body from view, with his head ducked and his arms wrapped around himself as though he was hugging himself for comfort, Chakotay's concern for the younger man was so great that he completely disregarded whatever anyone might think and moved forward to intercept him.

"I don't want you to go down there," he hissed in Tom's ear.

Tom froze mid-step and raised his head to meet Chakotay's furious glare. His eyes were wide with consternation at Chakotay's angry tone, yet they sparked with determination as he tried to stare the Commander down.

"I have to," he explained quietly. "Either I'm an Officer on Voyager or I'm not and if I *am* an Officer, I belong on this away team, Chak. None of us know what's really waiting for us down there. We could be walking right into a trap. It's dangerous for all of us  but that hasn't stopped anyone volunteering to go down. It's my duty too and I shouldn't be excused from it. I can't live the rest of my life with people making allowances for me. If I'm not up to this away mission, I shouldn't be wearing these pips."

Chakotay's face softened a little.

"I understand, Tom, but no one will think any the less of you if you don't come and I really think it would be better if you didn't."

"Are you telling me I can't come?" Tom asked timidly, a look of sad defeat descending over his features as his self-confidence faltered in the face of Chakotay's obvious disapproval. It was one thing to argue with the Captain, the worst he had risked was being put on charges, but the idea of arguing with Chakotay was more than he could bear. Without Chakotay's love and approval, it wouldn't matter how much pride he regained in front of the rest of the crew by doing his duty.

In that moment, Chakotay realized that Tom would back down if he forced the issue, that Tom would obey him, not as his junior officer, but as his lover, and despite his real concern for Tom's reaction to the Carskoni, he realized that he would be abusing his relationship with the pilot if he used it as a lever against him.

"Personally I'd rather you didn't go," Chakotay said quietly, "But if it's that important to you, then you should do whatever you feel is best and I'll accept your decision either way."

Tom's smile of complete relief was almost enough to still Chakotay's fear. Almost.

"But only if we have a link to your comm-badge at all times. I need to know you can get transported back up to Voyager immediately if you need to return."

"Okay," Tom agreed eagerly, willing to accept any condition that would allow him to both do what he knew was right *and* keep Chakotay happy.

Kathryn cleared her throat noisily and the two men spun towards her, both trying to look as though they had be