**************************************

Disclaimer time once again!  Forty-fifth verse same as the 
first . . . everybody *sing*:

I don't own these characters, (chorus) Paramount does!
I don't own this venue, (chorus) Paramount does!
I am making no money off of this, (chorus) Paramount does 
not either!

This story doesn't involve sex between two men, but it will, 
later.  If that is *not* your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then 
don't read it!  (simple, ain't it??)
Feedback is *very* much appreciated, and always 
answered.  Flames will be passed around to friends and 
chuckled over.  :)

This is the sequel to 'Outrageous', 'Impossible', and 
'Perceptive'.

Yep, more of the C/P backstory to Yvette Kendall's 
Tuvok/Kim series, which can be found at 
http://members.tripod.com/~Artists_2/Yvette.html
Go read them, they're wonderful!!!  Yes, I mean now!

This is Yvette's universe; I'm just visiting.  

'Infuriating' by Amirin 


**************************************


"Tom, if you apologize one more time, I swear I'm gonna 
gag you."

"Harry . . ."

"It's okay, Tuvok understands."

Tom sighed, still hunched over next to Harry on the sofa. 
"This was your reunion and I royally fucked it up.  Call Tuvok 
back, this can wait, Har."

"He insisted, remember?  All but dragged you in here? He'll 
be waiting for me in my quarters when we're done."

Another sigh from the pilot and Harry leaned back, getting 
comfortable.  This, apparently, was going to take some time. 
"What happened?" he finally asked, when it seemed Tom 
wasn't going to be able to start on his own.

"We were lying on the couch when the Captain commed 
him," Tom began, his voice tired and choked.

"And he was off in a heartbeat to go see her," Harry 
guessed.

"Well, no, this time I left first," Tom admitted wryly.  "I just 
couldn't take it anymore."

"Is she aware of what's been happening?" Harry queried 
gently, trying to keep to the middle ground.  "Does she know 
what this has been doing to you?"

Tom snorted and his eyes grew hard. "How could she not, 
Har?  She knows, all right.  I just don't think she gives a 
damn."

Harry sighed, hoping to find a way to give Tom support 
without painting the Captain as the villain of this particular 
piece.  "And Chakotay knows, about how his speedy exits 
affect you?"

Tom nodded.  Sort of.  Actually, it was more of a shrug.

"You've talked to him?" Harry pressed, and knew he hit 
something when Tom squirmed.  "What?"

"I haven't wanted to push it, Har," Tom said quietly.

"So, you *haven't* discussed it with him." Harry sighed when 
Tom nodded.  "Have you talked it over with the Captain?"

Tom's head shot up at that question.  "What?  Are you 
*kidding*?"

Harry shook his head calmly.  "I don't believe she'd do 
anything to hurt you *deliberately*, Tom.  And if she knew it 
was happening, I'd like to think she'd do something about it."

"I think she's been enjoying it too much," Tom grumbled 
hostilely.

"What, hurting you?"

"No, the attention from Chakotay, the total devotion, the way 
he goes flying to her side the second she comms him. I 
think she enjoys having him at her beck and call," Tom told 
Harry in a dull voice.

"You want to know what I think?" Harry asked quietly, going 
on at Tom's questioning look.  "I think you need to go talk to 
*her*, find out *what* she wants.  Maybe what's been 
happening between them is just habit, she may not even be 
aware of it."  He placed a hand on Tom's shoulder at the 
harsh snort his comment provoked.  "Give her the benefit of 
the doubt, Tom.  They were alone together for three months 
and nothing happened.  They were totally dependent on one 
another, but didn't get involved.  What does that tell you?"

"That she's only interested in Chakotay when she's got 
some competition," Tom muttered uncharitably, sighing 
when Harry did, before grinning slightly in surrender.  "All 
right, I'll go talk to her." 

"You might want to cool off some, first," Harry commented 
worriedly, not liking the cold look in his best friend's eyes.

The last thing Tom wanted to do was 'cool off'.  But, he 
knew that if he didn't appease Harry, the guy wouldn't let 
him leave.  

"No, I'd better do it now, before I talk myself out of it," Tom 
argued, until he saw the uncertain look on Harry's face. 
"What?  I'm not gonna punch out my Captain, Har, give me 
credit for a *little* self-control, okay?"

Harry snorted and grinned wryly.  "Okay, okay," he held his 
hands up in defeat as Tom rose to leave.  "Just . . . watch 
it."

"I will, I'll be on my *best* behavior," Tom called back on his 
way out of Tuvok's quarters.

Harry sighed as the door swooshed shut behind him. "I 
certainly hope so."


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom strode to the 'lift with a full head of steam.  Harry just 
didn't get it.  He didn't realize that the Captain was *never* 
going to let Chakotay go.  Tom knew it, knew it with a 
certainty that would not be denied.  And he'd had enough.  

He could just imagine the two of them finding him endlessly 
entertaining, he thought with barely-rational bitterness as he 
entered the 'lift.  Gave them something to talk about in the 
wee hours of the morning.  And who knew?  Maybe 
Chakotay *wanted* to spend the rest of his life alone, at 
worst, dangling on the Captain's hook, at best.  Maybe, just 
maybe, *Chakotay* would be able to let the *Captain* go if 
he realized the futility of his situation.

But, as long as he had them both, he didn't have to decide. 
Love with the Captain, sex with Tom.  If Tom left, really left, 
Chakotay might either push things with the Captain, or give 
up on her altogether.  And Tom was willing to bet that *if* he 
pushed, she'd end the game immediately, since he wasn't 
willing to play by her rules anymore.  And, if he gave up, 
Tom would be there.  With *all* of Chakotay, not just 
whatever small crumbs the Captain happened to toss his 
way.

This was actually the perfect opportunity to let them know he 
was out of it.  The Captain would immediately go to 
Chakotay, or, more likely, bring him to her, and tell him that 
Tom wasn't going to play anymore.  This was it.


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Kathryn held the cup of tea in slightly shaky hands. Gods, 
what the *hell* had just happened, here? 

She'd welcomed Tom into her ready room gladly, hoping this 
was a genuine effort on his part to clear some of the air 
between them, hoping he'd listen to her explain how worried 
she and Chakotay had been about him, how much Chakotay 
cared for him, how willing she was to help, in any way she 
could.  What she'd gotten hadn't even come close . . .


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


"This isn't ship's business.  It's about Chakotay, Captain."

Janeway smiled with relief and motioned Tom to join her on 
the sofa, but he declined with a shake of his head.  "You just 
missed him, Tom.  I think he was on his way to see you."

<Yeah, right.  Probably needed a royal fucking after she'd 
gotten him all hot and bothered> Tom thought and found 
himself getting even angrier. "Thanks anyway, but I'm tired 
of putting up with your leftovers," he sneered.  Oh, the 
stunned look on her face was certainly something to be 
savored.

"What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" 

Tom's laugh was more brittle than ever and the ugly smirk 
on his usually handsome face made Janeway cringe.  "Tell 
me something, Captain.  Do you ever intend to set the man 
free or are you having too much fun playing your fucking 
games with peoples' lives?"

Janeway was on her feet instantly, but Tom didn't budge a 
millimeter and his eyes were ice cold.  "You are out of line, 
Mister."  Another nasty laugh from Tom set her teeth on 
edge.  

"Sooo sorry, Captain, didn't realize there *was* a line."

The Captain took a deep breath and tried again, seeing 
something under Tom's anger.  "He doesn't love me," she 
said gently, thinking she'd hit it on the head when Tom's 
expression turned stony.  "He loves you.  And he'd tell you 
that himself, if you'd hold still long enough to listen."  She 
sighed inwardly as the shields around her pilot came up to 
full strength right before her eyes.

"You don't honestly expect me to *believe* that, do you?" 
Tom asked, his scorn and incredulity painfully obvious.  "I 
can't *afford* to believe that, Captain.  The moment I do, 
you'll snap your fingers and bring him to heel at your side, 
again.  Shit, how stupid do you two think I am, anyway?  I'm 
only good enough as long as you don't want him. Which is 
something you refuse to make up your goddamned mind 
about.  So, let me make it easy for you.  You want to play, 
you do it without me. I've had enough.  I am *damned* if I'll 
let the two of you keep doing this to me. I'm out of it.  He's 
all yours.  Enjoy . . ."


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


. . . and with that, he'd shot out the door like a photon 
torpedo.  Kathryn had never been so glad the doors couldn't 
be slammed, or hers would no longer be on the hinges. 

She sighed.  How had this all gone so impossibly *wrong*?  

Taking another sip of tea, she wondered if Chakotay had 
gotten through to Tom, yet.  She'd warned him that the pilot 
might be heading his way, angrier than anyone had ever 
seen him. A few moments later, Chakotay had commed her 
to tell her that Tom was holed up in his quarters, wouldn't 
answer his commbadge and had changed the door codes to 
something it would take him hours to figure out, unless he 
used his command privileges and overrode them.

He didn't want to pull rank and force Tom to talk.  And 
cornering the younger man was definitely not a good idea, 
right now, especially on his own home territory.  

Kathryn had advised him to let Tom cool off and try again in 
the morning.  Protocol all but demanded some sort of 
disciplinary measures for Tom's actions, but she didn't want 
to do it, so it wasn't going to happen. He'd never touched 
her, hadn't hurt her, although the look in his eyes spoke of a 
desire to see her hurting as much as he was.

She sighed again, looking out the window at the starfield 
beyond.  They were a couple of days away from a planet 
that promised to provide them with much-needed minerals, 
food, and, with any luck, shore leave.  Maybe there'd be a 
way to get Tom off the ship for a few days with Chakotay, let 
them finally talk it out.  She couldn't imagine a worse 
resolution than this, unless they came to blows.

Kathryn snorted dryly, finishing off her tea.  Sometimes, 
being Captain just didn't pay enough.


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom grinned as he deleted yet another personal message 
from Chakotay, unread.  And he grinned even wider at the 
knowledge that the computer would be sure and let the man 
know that Tom had done exactly that.  He was careful to 
read the ones that came from the *Commander*, but he 
wasn't about to deal with *Chakotay*.  Not yet.  If ever.

He'd requested a shift change right after his 'chat' with the 
Captain, which ran through the rest of the week.  He knew 
Chakotay had only granted it in an effort to placate him, not 
realizing until it was too late that it meant Tom wouldn't have 
to lay eyes on him at all.  The rest of the time, he was in his 
quarters, catching up on reading he'd put off for months, 
cleaning the rooms to within an inch of their lives, listening 
to music and taking it easy.  He didn't even realize that the 
shadows had all but vanished from around his eyes, he was 
sleeping better, eating again, and the haunted look was 
nearly gone.  But, other people had noticed and word of how 
good he looked, after so many months of looking awful, had 
gotten back to Chakotay.

Chakotay had come by daily, sometimes more than once, 
but Tom wouldn't answer the door.  He'd tried to comm him, 
but Tom wasn't responding with anything more than 'Is this 
about ship's business, *Commander*?'.  If it wasn't, he let 
the man know in no uncertain terms that he didn't have 
anything to say that Tom needed to hear. 

The pilot smirked as he recalled the little gesture he'd made 
the day before that had brought Chakotay by *eight times*. 
Tom was still chuckling when the doorchime sounded and 
he opened it when the computer revealed that his visitor was 
Harry.

"Hey, Har," Tom said, smiling.

"Hi," Harry answered hesitantly, seeing the friendly warmth 
on Tom's face as he pulled up a chair.  "You seem . . . 
cheerful."

"I feel great, Harry," Tom said with a wide grin, as he walked 
to the replicator.  "You want anything?"

"No, thanks," Harry answered, puzzled, until he remembered 
why he was there.  "Actually, yes.  I needed to ask you if you 
could help me move into Tuvok's quarters," he responded 
with a shy grin to Tom's query.

"Harry, that's great!" Tom exclaimed.  "Congrats, buddy."

Harry noted that he actually seemed to mean it and smiled 
in relief.  "So, you'll give us a hand?" 

Tom studied the glass in his hand for a heartbeat before he 
asked, "Us?"

"Well, yeah, me and B'Elanna.  Tuvok's on duty and I 
wanted it to be a done deal before he got off."

"In every sense of the word, huh, Har?" Tom quipped in 
relief that Chakotay wasn't going to be there, then laughed 
at Harry's blush when the Ensign realized how his remark 
had sounded.

"Tom!"

"Relax, I'm kidding.  And of course I'll help." 

Harry sighed inwardly, pleased.  He needed the help, true, 
but mostly he wanted his friend to get the hell out of his 
quarters for a reason other than his duty shift.

He followed the pilot back to his own quarters and noticed 
B'Elanna's doubletake when she saw Tom.

"You look . . . great," she said, eyes wide, turning to Harry, 
who shrugged.

"Thanks.  I'm on a hell of a diet," Tom joked.  "Lost a 
hundred and eighty pounds and I feel terrific."

Silence reigned when B'Elanna and Harry got it, but Tom 
just laughed at the looks on their faces. "Lighten up, you 
guys, damn!"  And with that, he got to work, packing Harry's 
clothes from the closet, while the other two emptied out the 
drawers, talking in hushed whispers about the man in the 
other room.

"Kahles, it's like they've switched places," B'Elanna 
muttered, hearing Tom humming through the wall.  "Tom 
looks like he got a new lease on life and Chakotay looks like 
he's *this* close to falling apart."

"The Captain doesn't look much better," Harry mentioned 
quietly.

B'Elanna cocked her head as Tom changed to a new tune. 
"True enough," she sighed.  "I don't think Chakotay's slept 
since Tom left."

"Good," Harry muttered coldly, face hardening a little when 
B'Elanna's head shot up and her eyes narrowed.  "B'Elanna, 
don't expect me to get all upset because Chakotay's finally 
getting a taste of what Tom's been going through for the last 
few *months*."

B'Elanna had the grace to look slightly abashed.  "I don't.  I 
know what it was like, I was there, remember?  Chakotay 
says that Tom still won't talk to him, won't return his 
messages, hell, he doesn't bother to *read* them, if they're 
from Chakotay's personal computer and not the one in his 
office.  He won't even answer his door, if he knows 
Chakotay's on the other side.  *Nothing*.  They haven't laid 
eyes on each other in *days*.  And did you hear about 
Tom's little 'gift'?"

Harry shook his head.  "No, what?"

"Tom had a bottle of wine, the real stuff, delivered to 
Chakotay with a note. 'For you and the Captain, wishing you 
all the happiness you both deserve'."

Harry stared, slight grin turning his lips.  "Ohhh, that's cold."

"He had Neelix bring it by Chakotay's quarters."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, *yes*.  And guess who had to tell everyone he met 
along the way about it?"

"Oh, no."

"Oh, *yes*.  And guess who let them read the note, to see 
for themselves?"

"Oh, gods."

"Tom's got a hell of a mean streak in him, Harry."

"Good for Tom."

"Harry!"

"I mean it, B'Elanna.  Good for Tom.  It's about time 
Chakotay got the message that he can't treat Tom like shit 
and get away with it."

"Well, he's got it, all right, Harry."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The problem is, he has longer has *Tom*."


                  <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom entered the shuttlebay whistling, delighted at finally 
being able to get off the ship.  Harry had left the day before 
and Tom hadn't even had a chance to say good-bye.  Both 
of them were going to be gone for several days, Harry, on 
the first away-team mission, and Tom, pulling ferry duty. 
Loads of refractive minerals on the planet's surface had to 
be brought up to Voyager the old-fashioned way, as they'd 
wreak havoc with the transporter systems.  He found that he 
was actually looking forward to it.

"You sound happy." 

The quiet voice brought his head around with an almost 
audible snap.  Shit, Chakotay.  Damn, he didn't need this.

"What are you doing here?" Tom took a good, long look at 
the man before him. He looked like hell. 

"I wanted to say good-bye," the Commander answered 
quietly, taking in the sight of his lover.  Former lover.  He 
sighed.  Damn, the man looked wonderful.

Tom shrugged offhandedly.  "You've said it.  See you later."

"Spirits, you are still the most *infuriating* man I've ever 
*known*," Chakotay ground out, unable to help himself. 
This wasn't why he'd come to the shuttlebay; he didn't 
*want* to argue.  But, he couldn't seem to avoid the old 
habits. 

"Yeah, well, it's not your problem, anymore, is it, Chakotay?" 
Tom's voice mocked him.  That plus that damnable grin.

"Whose problem is it?" Chakotay countered.

"No one's," Tom said, his voice growing sharper.  "Shit, do 
you think *I* could replace *you* in a matter of days?  That's 
*your* field of expertise, Chief, not mine." 

Chakotay found himself closing the distance between them 
in a few long strides.  "There's been *no* one for me since 
you left, Tom."

Tom snorted, the smirk that had been long-banished 
crawling out again to see the light of day.  "I doubt the 
Captain would be pleased at being called 'no one'."

"I said no one and I *meant* no one," Chakotay forced out. 
"She and I are *not* *together*.  We're not *going* to be 
together.  I don't love her, beyond friendship.  *You* are the 
one I want."

Tom shook his head, burying the emerging hope under 
anger and doubt.  "Gods, you almost say that like you mean 
it.  Very *good*, Chakotay."

"I *do* mean it, damn, you are so . . ."

"Infuriating, yeah, you mentioned that," Tom sighed.  "Look, 
Chakotay, just give it up, okay?  You and I both know the 
real score, here," he said, unaware of how lost he sounded. 
Chakotay, however, was *very* aware, and his heart ached.

Tom went on, his voice breaking despite his best efforts. 
"It's not *me* you want.  It *never* *was*.  It never *will* be. 
I know it.  You know it.  So, just stop it, okay?  Please?  Just 
stop *doing* this to me," Tom turned toward the shuttle, 
pissed at himself for giving so much away.

"I'm not giving up on us," Chakotay said softly, his voice 
right behind Tom's ear.  "You mean too much to me." 

Tom rounded on him, fury sparking in angry blue eyes. 
"Damn it, *quit* it!  There is no 'us'!  I know where your heart 
lies and it's nowhere *near* me, all right?  She cut it out of 
your chest years ago and she's not about to give it back. 
And, the thing of it is, I know you really don't want her to."

"You are so *wrong*, Tom.  She never *had* it, because she 
didn't *want* it," Chakotay corrected him gently, placing a 
hand Tom's shoulder that the younger man shrugged off 
with a warning look.  "Face it, Hotshot, I'm just as stubborn 
as you are.  You are *not* getting away from me this easily, 
you got that?"

"I've got to go," Tom said hurriedly, and Chakotay noticed 
how his voice sounded a little desperate, his body language, 
agitated, and growing more so with every passing second. 
Damn, he didn't want him flying like this.

"I want you to think about something for the next few days; 
just keep it in the back of your mind," the Commander said 
calmly, soothingly.

"*Now* what?" Tom asked, harsh but quiet, turning around 
and sighing when Chakotay stepped closer and took his 
face gently in his hands.  

"This," Chakotay breathed against his lips before claiming 
them.  Tom struggled briefly, but the resistance melted from 
his body when Chakotay's arms enclosed him. The 
Commander kept at it, trying to coax a response, and was 
about to give up when he felt Tom's slight acquiescence, 
just a little, just barely enough to give him hope.  He pulled 
away slowly, lips following the younger man's jaw to his ear. 
"Just think about it.  *Please*."

"What, starting over?" Tom whispered, trying to calm his 
traitorous heart, despising himself for his weakness.  Gods, 
he was an idiot to even *consider* putting himself through 
more of this.

"If that's what it takes to bring you back into my life, yes," 
Chakotay answered carefully, willing to go along with 
whatever Tom needed.

"I'll think about it," Tom allowed reluctantly, pulling away 
from the man, whose eyes were shining.  "Dammit, I'm only 
going to *think* about it.  No promises."

But, nothing could erase Chakotay's smile, or the warmth in 
his eyes.  "Good enough," he murmured.

Tom sighed, heading up the ramp into the small craft.  "One 
thing," he called out and Chakotay looked askance at him. 
"If you and the Captain are living together by the time I get 
back, I get dibs on your quarters," and with that, he ducked 
into the shuttle with a shaky grin and rapidly shut the door.

Chakotay growled with quiet amusement to himself and 
headed toward the exit as Tom powered up the shuttlecraft. 
"Damned infuriating man." 

                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


It hadn't taken Tom long to figure out what Chakotay had 
been doing in the shuttlebay, aside from wanting to say 
good-bye.  For the next five days, he'd been treated to 
reliving their relationship through the Commander's eyes as 
message after message played through the shuttle's 
computer system.

He'd tried to lock it out, mute it, reprogram it, everything, but 
the man had used his command protocols and Tom couldn't 
halt the playbacks, no matter what he did.  Short of tearing 
the system out with his bare hands, at any rate.  The trip 
down memory lane had been kind of nice, really, until Tom 
realized something on the third day.  

During a quiet moment, he'd had the computer scan 
Chakotay's program for instances of the word 'love' and 
wasn't too surprised to learn how few there were.  In context, 
they were used to talk about the sex, his looks, food they'd 
shared, music they'd listened to, programs they'd enjoyed, 
everything but how the man *felt* about him. Oh, there were 
lots of 'You don't know how much you mean to me' kinds of 
comments, but the word 'love' was never used.

"And isn't that just *such* a shock," Tom snarled at the 
computer, the 'tearing it to shreds' option looking more 
attractive all the time.  Fortunately, the Commander's voice 
was soft and Tom's whistling, humming and outright singing 
was able to drown out most of it over the last couple of days.

He was finishing the cleanup after the final run, on the last 
day, when B'Elanna came into the shuttlebay.  She quickly 
told him about how Harry had gone to Chakotay and 
protested the fact that he and Tuvok hadn't had any time to 
enjoy the relationship they'd fought so hard for.  Tom 
cringed, seeing Harry's point, but knowing how much effort it 
would've taken Chakotay to work the roster around enough 
to grant them the time together that they deserved.  And all 
the crewmembers who would've had to be notified of the 
changes.  Shit.  And, judging from the look on B'Elanna's 
face, that wasn't even the worst of it.

"Okay, what else?" Tom asked, bracing himself.

B'Elanna sighed.  "You know that database collection of 
tasteless Vulcan sex jokes?"

"Yeah . . ."

"It's six times larger than it was five days ago."

"Fuck."

"Exactly."


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom made tracks immediately to go talk to Tuvok.  And he 
knew that the only thing that kept the Vulcan from throwing 
him out of his quarters, was his genuine concern for the 
ramifications the whole disaster might have for Harry.  Still, 
Tuvok's unwillingness to talk about it was testing patience 
that Tom already found himself in short supply of.  And he 
*had* to leave, he still needed to report in.  His last parting 
comment only helped a little.

"Tuvok, listen to me, please.  Harry only did it because he 
loves you so much. Go easy on him, okay?"

Tom left, hoping Tuvok would be understanding.  He went to 
see the Captain, to let her know all the official things about 
his mission that Captains need to know and didn't say 
another word.

It didn't escape Janeway's notice that he spent the entire 
time talking to her ear, either.  Maybe her nose, on a couple 
of occasions.  Her eyebrows.  Once, he directed a remark to 
her forehead.  She let it go, dismissing him, finally, and he 
took off for his quarters, to find a message from Chakotay 
waiting for him.  He hesitated a moment before reading it.

"Tom:

I hope the last few days haven't made you utterly sick of the 
sound of my voice, but I thought I'd leave a written message, 
just in case.  I've got shore leave scheduled for the next 
three days and I took the liberty of putting you on the same 
rotation.  I'll be waiting, planetside.  We need to talk. 
*Really* talk, Tom.

Chakotay"

He sighed, not knowing if he was up for this or not. 
Regardless, he needed to get to Harry, first, and do some 
damage-control.


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


"Oh God, Tom - what have I done?"

Tom tried to tell Harry all the necessary steps Chakotay had 
had to take to grant his request to give him and Tuvok time 
for each other, leaving Harry pale and devastated by the 
time he was finished.  Tom looked at his friend with the 
utmost compassion.

"Harry, what you did, hell, *anyone* would have done, in 
your place.  You were right, you two have been through hell 
and you *should* be able to enjoy your relationship, now. 
B'Elanna told me that Chakotay had even admitted as much 
to her. It's easy to forget that the two of you are together."

"I know," Harry said quietly.  "That's why I did it.  We don't 
act like a couple; it's understandable that people would 
forget that we *are* one.  But, this . . . gods, he's going to be 
so . . . It's going to be awful.  He'll never forgive me."

"Yes, he will, Har," Tom disagreed softly, pulling Harry's chin 
up.  "He loves you."


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom sat on his bed, wondering what he should pack, if 
anything.  Did he want to dress for Chakotay, or himself? 
How much? Dressy or casual?  For the beach, the woods, or 
the mountains?  Shit.  

He sighed.  Three days.  Just the two of them.  And how 
would they return?  Made-up or murdered?  

He got up and headed over to his closet, and started pulling 
things out to toss into the carryall.  He had to be honest, part 
of him was really looking forward to this.  Just because 
Chakotay hadn't said the words, didn't necessarily mean he 
*didn't* love him. Maybe, he just wanted the first time saying 
them to be in person.  That was like the man, Tom had to 
admit.  He tugged the satchel off the bed and nearly 
staggered with the weight.  Hell, he'd packed enough for 
three *weeks*, he guessed.  Huge, anticipatory smile on his 
face, he headed to the transporter room.


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Chakotay stubbed his toe on the bed as he dove for his 
chirping commbadge, thinking it was Tom.

"Chakotay, here." 

"Commander, any sign of him?" 

"No, Captain," Chakotay said dispiritedly.  "It's been hours. I 
don't think he's coming."

Janeway sighed.  "I'm sorry, Chakotay."

"No more so than I am," the Commander grumbled.  "Was 
there something else?"

"Not really.  We've got a few problems up here, but nothing 
major."

"Anything I can help with?  There's not much point in my 
staying."

"I can always use your help, Commander."

"On my way."


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom was shown to the room he and Chakotay would be 
sharing.  One large suite, with two bedrooms.  Enough for 
space, but not for distance.  Nice.  And perfect.  He headed 
into the bedroom on the right side of the living area and 
stared off the balcony into the distance.  Beautiful. 
Cautiously opening a drawer in the dresser, he found it 
empty and grinned at knowing, somehow, that this was 
going to be his room.  He quickly unpacked then threw 
himself on the bed with a contented sigh.  Between the flight 
up from the planet, the meeting with the Captain and talking 
to both Tuvok and Harry, he was beat.  A nap sounded like 
just the ticket and it wasn't long after he'd made the decision 
that he found himself falling asleep.  Oh, well.  Chakotay 
could always wake him, when he returned from wherever 
he'd gone . . .


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom finally awakened, starving, and noticed it was dark.  He 
got up, carefully avoiding furniture, and hit the lights, 
dimming them immediately when they came on way too 
bright.  Chakotay still wasn't back, apparently.  Well, maybe 
he didn't know Tom was already here and had gone on to 
eat.

Food sounded wonderful and he took the stairs at a run, 
exiting through the open foyer. Delicious smells filled the 
night air coming in from the street and he hurriedly left 
Chakotay a message, before venturing out into the warmth 
of the evening.

He took a right turn out the door and followed his nose, 
stopping at several different kiosks and eating along the 
way.  He walked slowly, enjoying the scenery and shook his 
head at a street-hawker who was trying to entice passers-by 
into the dimly-lit establishment behind him. Loud music and 
blue lights poured out the door everytime it was opened and 
Tom grinned at the fact that if he were on the prowl, that it 
was exactly the sort of place he'd find himself in.  He kept 
going, making a turn after a while to head back to the hotel 
and went on up the opposite side of the street.  He grinned 
again when he passed the bar, snorting, and continued on, 
until he'd reached the hotel. It was late, really late. 
Chakotay *must* be back, by now.

He stopped at the front desk and noticed his message was 
still in the slot and checked to see if there were any for him. 
Nothing.  Frowning, he headed up the stairs a whole lot 
slower than he'd come down, earlier, and entered the room. 
Tom stood there a moment, noticing for the first time how 
empty it felt, and crossed into the bedroom he'd assumed 
was Chakotay's.  Tugging a drawer open, he found it empty, 
and kept opening drawers until he was satisfied that there 
was no one currently living there but him. 

He walked back into the main living area and poured himself 
a drink, thinking.  Maybe some emergency . . .?

He tapped his commbadge and got B'Elanna, who didn't 
seem too surprised to hear from him. 

"Everything okay up there, Torres?" Tom asked quietly, 
heading to the open doors of the balcony and looking up, as 
if he could possibly see Voyager from here.

"Fine, Tom.  I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and 
Chakotay."

"Yeah," he sighed, wondering how much she knew.  "How 
long as he been back aboard Voyager?"

"Since this afternoon."

Tom took another long swallow of his drink before speaking. 
"B'El, do me a favor, will you?"

"What do you need?"

"Check the comm logs and see who Chakotay talked to last, 
before he returned to the ship."

"Tom . . ."

"*Please*."

"Hang on.  Okay, here it is.  Tom?"

"Yeah, who was it?"

"Contact was initiated by the Captain, from her quarters."

Tom snorted.  "Thanks, B'Elanna."

"Tom?"

"Paris out."

Tom stood quietly for a minute, staring into the bottom of his 
glass.  

"Bastard."


                   <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom spent the next two days in a funk, mostly drunk the 
entire time.  It wasn't like he was waiting for Chakotay to get 
in touch with him, but it would've been nice, just the same. 
Unfortunately, it didn't occur to him that his commbadge was 
drowning in a half-empty glass of alcohol, out on the 
balcony, where he'd dropped it after talking to B'Elanna.

He had food sent up to the room and did nothing but eat, 
drink and sleep.  Finally, he looked around and realized that 
he was being ridiculous.  It wasn't like Chakotay was going 
to come and give him hell for drinking, it wasn't like the man 
actually *gave* a rat's ass, so why the fuck was he so busy 
feeling sorry for himself?  Screw this, he was still off-duty for 
at least another day.  He packed quickly, throwing his 
clothes into the carryall, and headed downstairs to check 
out, telling the clerk to burn the messages that filled the box 
to bursting.  

Comming Voyager, he gave the command for one to beam 
up and hurriedly left the transporter room, stalking to his 
quarters.  He dumped his bag out onto the floor of his closet 
and checked his messages.  The nineteen from Chakotay 
were instantly deleted and he headed to the replicator for 
another drink.  Synth, but fuck it.  

He wandered around for a while, kicking things and 
generally feeling awful and decided to shred every piece of 
clothing Chakotay had ever given him. As soon as the room 
stopped moving. He crashed onto the couch and sleep 
attacked him almost immediately.

When he woke up, he felt worse.  Bringing up the duty 
roster, he realized he didn't have to be back at work until the 
next day.  What the hell was he doing to do until then?  He 
thought about it, grumbling, and debated going back down to 
the planet, just to get off the ship.  Remembering the bar 
he'd passed on his first night, he decided that it was 
definitely his kind of place, after all, and headed to the 
shower to wash up.  

He was halfway dressed, trying to find a decent shirt that 
Chakotay *hadn't* given him, when his doorchime sounded. 
He strode over, not even checking who was on the other 
side of it and found himself glaring at . . . Harry.  Who wasn't 
wearing much more than he was.  Now what?

"What's up, Harry?" he asked, looking at his friend's eyes. 
Shit, they looked as bad as he knew his did.

"It's Tuvok, Tom.  I don't know, we just . . ."  Harry trailed off, 
unable to finish. The guy seemed miserable and gods knew 
they could both use some distraction, right about now.

Tom all but dragged him into the bedroom and told him to 
have a seat while he scrounged through the pile of clothes, 
looking for shirts to wear with his silk slacks.  Harry held up 
the blue one he hadn't gotten around to shredding yet, but 
he went with the red, until he noticed the stain on the front. 

"So, why are dressed to kill, anyway?" Harry asked him in 
quiet sorrow like he was just making conversation, not like 
he really wanted to know.  

"I'm going down to the planet and I'm going to get blind, 
stinking drunk," he grated out.

Harry nodded his understanding.  "You and Chakotay have 
another fight?"  Tom's eyes met his friend's and they stared 
for a moment, seeing the same look in one another's eyes. 
Harry seemed to come to some inner decision and stood to 
join Tom, tossing his robe aside.

"You want some company?" he asked, before he grabbed 
the blue shirt Tom wasn't going to be wearing and tried to 
get it on over his head.  He got stuck and called out to Tom 
for help, who came over immediately and got Harry out of 
the shirt he was trapped in.  And then saw the tears in the 
younger man's eyes.  Shit.

"Hey, Har, it's okay.  We don't have to do this if you don't 
want to."

"No, I do want to.  I need something to make me feel better."

The Ensign looked about twelve years old, all miserable and 
teary-eyed.  Tom hugged him and wondered to himself why 
the hell they couldn't have fallen in love with each other, but 
ruefully acknowledged that Chakotay had ruined him for 
anyone else.  Even if the First Officer was in love with 
someone else. 

They got back to dressing and were so absorbed in it that 
neither of them heard the door to Tom's quarters close.


                      <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Chakotay had no idea how he managed to get back to his 
quarters.  He didn't remember the door opening to allow his 
entrance, nor could he recall sitting on the sofa.  His 
thoughts only became his own when he realized his mind 
was still replaying the scene he'd just witnessed.  

He'd entered Tom's quarters unannounced, finally using his 
command override, to try and nail the man down long 
enough to talk with him and found him, half-dressed, with 
Harry.  Who'd gotten caught in the clothes he was taking 
*off* and let Tom finish stripping him naked.  Chakotay could 
even hear their words ringing in his ears.


**"Hey, Har, it's okay.  We don't have to do this if you don't 
want to."

"No, I do want to.  I need something to make me feel 
better."**


He'd staggered out of Tom's quarters immediately after, in 
total disbelief, not wanting to stick around any longer and 
watch his lover, *former* lover, with Harry.  The very idea of 
those two together was enough to roil both his mind and his 
stomach and he fought to quell the rising nausea.  How 
could this have happened?  When?  And, for the love of the 
Gods, *why*?

Chakotay leaned forward and rested his elbows on his 
knees, dropping his head into his hands.  He knew things 
with Tom had been bad lately, but how could it have gotten 
*this* bad?  Hell, it wasn't like he hadn't tried.

He groaned, picturing them together in his mind and 
tightened his fingers on his scalp as though the pressure 
could drive the thoughts away.  His head came up abruptly 
when it occurred to him that nothing could have happened 
between his lover and Harry while the Ensign and Tuvok 
were a couple, or while Chakotay and Tom were still 
together.  So, this had taken place just since their obvious 
breakup.  Obvious since the whole ship knew they weren't 
speaking, not for lack of effort on Chakotay's part.  Tom had 
been left totally vulnerable.  Which meant it hadn't been 
*Tom's* idea, at all, Chakotay realized.  They had been in 
Tom's quarters, hence, Harry had gone to *Tom*, not the 
other way around.  Harry.  Chakotay found himself growling 
the name aloud.  Of course.  Innocent, hurting, 
sweet-seeming Harry, fresh from a failed relationship of his 
own.  What a crock of . . . 

The Commander nodded grimly, seeing how it could have 
happened.  Harry hurting, Tom wanting to comfort his best 
friend, which would have led to more comfort, and then that 
sly little son-of-a-bitch making his move. Tom had never had 
a chance.


                    <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


The place was even louder than Tom remembered, as he 
winked at the hawker who opened the door for them.  They 
made their way carefully to the bar and began getting 
seriously drunk.  The music and the crowd forbade any real 
conversation, but they weren't there to talk, so who the fuck 
cared?

Tom didn't know what Harry was thinking, but it was 
obviously just as cheerful as his own thoughts, as he 
downed what might have been his fifth drink.  Maybe sixth. 
Whatever.

He kicked himself for not doing this his first night on the 
planet, but little had he known, at the time . . .  He sighed, 
noticing that Harry was having no trouble keeping up with 
him and wondered when his friend's tolerance had 
skyrocketed.  Then, he remembered Harry losing Tuvok and 
recalled how he became more of a regular at Sandrine's 
than even Tom had been.  That would've done it, all right.

Depression slowly segued to anger again, but Tom was so 
tired of being angry.  It didn't do any good; it wasn't like there 
was anything or anyone that he could actually take a swing 
at . . . Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. 

He saw the local boys heading determinedly their way and 
couldn't help grinning.  The brunet in the lead could almost 
pass for Chakotay in dim lighting, if you added several 
years, another couple of inches, a few more pounds and a 
tattoo.  Things were looking up.

He listened to Harry try and defuse the situation, but 
smirked at the head idiot and that was all it took.  They were 
being dragged off their stools and forced out of the bar 
before Tom realized he was even standing.  The hawker 
outside ran back in to get help, but Tom and Harry weren't in 
any position to notice, as they were shoved into the alley 
and the brawl commenced.  Tom flattened the leader, Harry 
kicked out at another, but the remaining men overpowered 
them and things got slightly fuzzy and very painful for a 
while, until the calvary arrived and scattered their attackers.  

Tom took one look at Tuvok and figured the expression on 
his face meant that he and Harry were going to make up 
before the next morning.  Gods, he hoped so.  Harry was 
supposed to be the voice of reason, not a willing participant, 
in Tom's schemes.

The pilot was barely aware of being back on Voyager, until 
he saw the Doc with a hypospray in his hand and suddenly 
the world was sober again.  And so was he. Shit.


                     <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Chakotay was still sitting there, shaking his head, wondering 
what the hell he was supposed to do now, when his 
commbadge chirped.

"Chakotay here," he muttered.

"Sir?" one of Tuvok's security people asked hesitantly.

"What is it, Ensign?" he asked, tiredly, running his hands 
over his face.

"Commander, Lieutenant Tuvok asked me to inform you that 
your presence is required in Sickbay.  Immediately. 
Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim were involved in an . . 
altercation on the planet's surface and are currently 
receiving medical care.  Sir," the Ensign finished rapidly.

"On my way," Chakotay growled.


                     <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


The Commander entered sickbay to find Tom and Harry 
both looking unscathed and the Doctor nowhere in sight. 
Tuvok was scowling at Tom as much as a Vulcan *could* 
scowl, and the look set Chakotay off.

"Are they on report yet, Lieutenant?" he all-but-snarled at 
Tuvok, glaring at Harry, whom he was willing to bet was 
responsible for this whole mess, including the fight. It would 
be just like him to stage something so that Tom would have 
to come to his rescue, intensifying the pilot's belief that 
Harry truly needed him. 

"No.  They did not begin the fight, and were simply 
defending themselves from attack," Tuvok replied calmly. 
Too calmly for Chakotay's liking.

"Then, why are you here, Tuvok?" the Commander asked 
hotly.

"I have requested shore leave for Ensign Kim and myself. 
We will be departing in sixteen point four minutes," the 
Vulcan answered in a cool tone.

Chakotay couldn't believe it.  *Shore leave*?  With *Harry*? 
That sneaky little . . Gods, going from the arms of one man 
right into the bed of another?  He looked at the Ensign and 
saw the smile on his face and that was it.  The shaky hold 
he had on his temper took off at warp and the brakes on his 
tongue went with it.

"Do you know what Harry was doing earlier this evening, 
Tuvok?" Chakotay asked  coldly.  Tuvok, Harry and Tom all 
looked at him like they didn't have any idea what he was 
talking about.  Well, maybe Tuvok didn't, but that was about 
to change.

The Vulcan didn't answer him, just raised one eyebrow in 
silent reply.

"He was . . he was *seducing* Tom!!" Chakotay choked out. 
"The two of them were *fucking* each other before they 
even went down to the planet!"

No reaction from Tuvok, not that that surprised him, but Tom 
and Harry's jaws about hit the floor, he noted with some 
satisfaction.  Ha, *that* wiped the smile off Harry's face! 

Chakotay saw the younger men open their mouths to speak, 
but Tuvok forestalled them when he held up his hand.

"May I ask why you believe that to be the case?" the Vulcan 
asked evenly.

"I *saw* them together, Tuvok!" he barked out angrily. 
"Harry was naked in Tom's arms after Tom finished 
*undressing* him." He ignored the livid look of horror and 
betrayal on Tom's face as Tuvok spoke again.

"What happened then?" Tuvok asked him. 

"I didn't *stay*, Tuvok," Chakotay ground out.  "I had no 
desire to watch *my* former lover screw around with 
*yours*!"  He saw the hurt look that was quickly replacing 
the horror on Tom's face, but paid no attention to it.  He 
should have. Tom stalked over to him, looked him dead in 
the eye with cold loathing and . . .

He regained consciousness to find himself on the floor of 
Sickbay and neither Tom nor Harry anywhere to be found. 
He pulled himself painfully to his feet, rubbing his jaw. 
Spirits, the man could pack a punch!

"I assume Paris is in the brig?" he asked sullenly, unwilling 
to let go of his anger as Tuvok crossed his arms, and leaned 
back against the biobed Harry had been sitting on.

"Commander, I am off duty, although, if you insist, I will have 
Lieutenant Paris escorted to the brig.  I do not understand 
how that will solve your problem, however."

"And just what problem is that, Tuvok?" Chakotay asked 
him, the unspoken <Like you would know> hanging in the air 
between them as Tuvok looked at him thoughtfully.

"Commander, the Lieutenant believes that you are in love 
with the Captain," the Vulcan said quietly.  "He is of the 
opinion that you are only with him because you cannot be 
with her, and that he is nothing more than a substitute.  And 
from what I have observed of your behavior, he is 
completely justified in his assumption."

"I am *not* in love with the Captain, Tuvok," Chakotay 
protested.  "I've *told* Tom that."

"I am sure Lieutenant Paris would find your declaration more 
convincing if not for the fact that you appear to be spending 
both your working hours and your leisure time ensconced in 
the Captain's Ready Room," Tuvok answered him calmly.


                    <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Tom was sitting at the bar of Sandrine's, nursing his bruised 
knuckles with some ice and his bruised feelings with some 
whiskey, when Harry came in.

"You okay?"

"I'm always okay, Har."

"Uh huh. Nice punch, by the way."

Tom snorted, unwilling grin meeting Harry's.  "Thanks.  You 
and Tuvok off to make up?"

"Yep, he's got us a room at the hotel for the next two days."

"The view off the balcony is gorgeous," Tom said, darkly.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry answered quietly.

"You've got to go," Tom reminded him, motioning for another 
drink to Sandrine.

"Yeah," Harry sighed.  "Take care of yourself, okay?  We 
can talk when I get back."

Tom nodded.  "Sure."

"Tom?"

"Go on, Har," Tom said as he downed his drink, relishing the 
burn all the way to his gut.  "Tuvok's waiting.  Don't worry 
about me. Okay?" he turned to look at Harry and saw 
nothing but compassion.

"I'll come find you when I get back," Harry promised.

Tom grinned bitterly.  "I'll be here." 

Harry left shortly after, but Tom wasn't really aware of it. 
Sandrine's was empty of everyone but him and the 
holocharacters and he called for privacy locks before 
downing his third drink.  He still felt like beating the crap out 
of something.  Or someone.  The feel of his fist connecting 
with Chakotay's jaw was satisfying, but not enough.

Sliding off his stool, he deleted Sandrine and called up the 
subroutine, grinning when the knucklebusters showed up. 
Yet again, the fight was on.


                   <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>


Chakotay made his way slowly to the holodeck, having 
asked for Tom's whereabouts from the computer.  The 
privacy lock gave him a moment's hesitation, but he 
overrode it using the command codes.  Maybe, if he'd done 
that at the very beginning, they wouldn't be in this mess, 
now.

He walked along the street in silence, dimly hearing loud 
crashes in the distance, which grew even louder as he 
approached Sandrine's.  Staring in through the window, he 
watched in shock as Tom dispatched one large, 
mean-looking opponent after another, catching snatches of 
the words Tom was shouting when his pool cue connected 
with one man's head, his fist with another's face. 

"Why the fuck would I cheat on you . . . Why the fuck do you 
care . . . You bastard . . . No one else for me . . . Never will 
be . . . Always loved you . . . Never loved me . . . Couldn't 
even say the words . . . Bastard . . ." 

And then, there was no one left standing after Tom slid 
down the wall just feet away from Chakotay, right on the 
spot where he and Tom had staged that little scene for Harry 
and B'Elanna to walk in on, all those months ago.  Chakotay 
could hear the soft, broken murmur of Tom's voice and he 
couldn't help but listen.

"You never got it, did you?  I wouldn't have cared if you'd 
lied to me. It still would have been nice to hear the words. 
But, you couldn't do it, could you?  Your damned honor 
wouldn't let you.  It was Kathryn or no one.  Harry?  Fuck. 
How could you think . . . Well, guess what, Chief?  I'm not 
you.  I couldn't fuck one person while loving another . . ."

And then, near-silence.  Nothing but the faint sound of 
labored breathing.  Chakotay felt like shit.  No, he felt worse. 
He wanted to talk to Tom, tell him how he felt, *what* he felt, 
but after what he'd just heard, he knew the man would never 
believe him. Hell, yes, he loved him. How could he not have 
said it?  He remembered saying it.  Didn't he? Hadn't he? 
Spirits.  What was he supposed to do, now?


**********************end