From: Groh <groh@iquest.net>
 
********************************************************** 
 
Disclaimer time once again! 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 involves sex between two men, aka: slash.  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.  :)  Just 
remember, it's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop at the 
end. 

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

	Tom just lay there for a moment, trying to get his wind back, 
while taking a quick inventory of his injuries.  Right leg broken in 
probably three places, left arm broken in two and the shoulder 
dislocated, maybe a couple of cracked vertebrae, and a slight 
concussion, judging from the way the floor was moving, and the 
splitting pain in his head.  It would have been worse if he hadn't 
landed on . . oh, god, Chakotay. 

	Scrambling as quickly as he could, ignoring his own 
discomfort, he grabbed the small medkit, took out the tricorder, and 
ran it over the unconscious man lying next to him.  Oh, *damn*, 
massive head trauma, with a skull fracture and concussion, broken 
back, broken hip, broken pelvis; the man was a med student's 
nightmare. 

	Tom attempted to contact Voyager, but wasn't too surprised 
when the attempt failed.  They had lost touch with Voyager around 
the eighteen hundred foot mark; they wouldn't be able to get back in 
touch until he, somehow, got them back up to that point.  He ran 
through the stock in the medkit.  There were a few drugs that would 
keep the swelling down inside the Commander's skull, and, 
hopefully, enough painkillers for Tom to do what he had to. 

	Fortunately for them both, most of the gear survived, except 
for the snapped guide line that had brought them here, to the bottom, 
somewhat faster than they had planned on.  Tom wasn't taking any 
chances; he hooked himself up to *both* of the remaining lines in the 
front, and used what was left of the broken guide to make himself a 
set of climbers.  He'd just have to stair-step his way out of here, if his 
leg could handle it.  With enough painkillers, he wouldn't feel much of 
anything.  He hoped.

	The only thing that bothered him as he was putting himself 
together was that there was no way he'd be able to hook Chakotay 
onto either of the lines; he'd need both hands to hold the clasp, 
unpin it, slide it further up the rope as he went, and repin it.  He only 
had one hand available, the left shoulder and arm he'd wrecked, 
grabbing the Commander's line to try and halt his fall, were 
practically useless.  He'd just have to support the man with his own 
body and stay awake, no matter what.  He had no choice; if he slept, 
his hold on Chakotay would loosen, and he'd drop him.  The man 
would die. Tom kept repeating it to himself, 'I sleep; he dies, I sleep; 
he dies' over and over again, a mantra to remind himself that napping 
on the way up was *not* an option.  Even when he no longer gave it 
conscious thought, part of his mind was still working on repeating it, 
again and again.  I sleep; he dies, I sleep; he dies. 

	He shot the Commander up with one of the painkillers, then 
one of the swelling-reducers.  He dosed himself as well, then put the 
empty vials in his right pocket, and slung the kit over his neck and 
shoulder, unfortunately resting on the dislocated one, but at least he 
could get to it with his right hand.  He maneuvered the man's body on 
top of his own, putting his right leg between Chakotay's and curling 
his left around the back of him, wrapping him up.  It took some time 
before he was able to get his feet into the steppers he'd made, and 
grabbing hold of the lines in his right hand, hauled them upright, their 
weight on his intact leg.  His legs would be doing damn near all the 
work, once he got going; the right arm and hand would just make 
sure the line stayed straight and fed down through the rings without 
snarling, as well as supporting the Commander. 

	<I can do this> he thought to himself, trying not to look up at 
the distance he had to go, <I have to do this>.  He started stepping 
with his legs, like climbing a set of stairs, each foot bringing the clasp 
up a few inches at a time, only to hold in place until the next pull up 
with his foot made it release the line.  It only moved upward, the set 
tension locking the mechanism in between steps.  He ignored the 
throbbing in his leg, it was bearable.  Certainly not doing the limb any 
good, but bearable.  He didn't want to take another painkiller; the 
discomfort was actually helping to clear the haze in his head, helping 
him stay awake, through the drowsiness the concussion was 
causing. 

	He thought back to the beginning of this particular away 
mission, sighing.  The luck they had, all bad, repelling into shafts, on 
the way to some treasure trove of needed minerals; it was enough to 
make him chuckle. This one was no different.  Just the two of them, 
going down a shaft some thirty-one hundred feet long, with a huge 
deposit of halanite just waiting for them at the bottom.  After making 
most of the descent without incident, Chakotay's line had snapped, 
somewhere along the length, causing him to drop like a rock.  Tom 
had grabbed onto it, with his left hand, the gloves he was wearing the 
only things keeping flesh on his fingers, as he tried to halt the 
Commander's descent.  It slowed him down somewhat, until the pins 
pulled out of the rock wall, the ones supporting his weight and 
Chakotay's, with the added stress and weight, and the two of them 
dropped the remaining forty feet, or so, Chakotay landing hard, and 
Tom quickly arriving right on top of him.  Tom found himself tempted 
to use nine hundred pound titanium cable, if they ever did this again; 
it was becoming ridiculous.

	He estimated that he had been going about an hour, perhaps, 
trying not to think about it.  He started going through a mental 
inventory, everything he could think of to forget how slowly the time 
was passing, how long it was taking to get them both the hell out of 
here.  He ran through every song he could remember, singing the 
lyrics, knowing Chakotay probably couldn't hear him.  The 
nineteen-sixties and seventies kept him busy for quite awhile; those 
were a couple of decades of great rock-n-roll.  Some of it was terrific 
for getting his adrenaline going.

	After a decent length of time, he shifted around carefully and 
got one of the empty vials out of his pocket and dropped it.  He 
counted off slowly and heard it land on the rocks below and 
estimated that he had gone maybe four hundred feet.  In about nine 
hours.  Damn.  He'd be going slower and slower as the ascent went 
on, due to fatigue; it could take a couple of days to get up to the 
eighteen hundred foot point where he was hoping to contact 
Voyager.  Eighteen hundred feet was his goal; he hoped like hell he 
wouldn't have to go any further than that.

	The throbbing in his leg was starting to became a hindrance, 
so he stopped, getting the hypospray out of the medkit, and shot 
them both up with painkillers, then added another of the 
swelling-reducing drugs for Chakotay.  The wristlight wasn't the 
greatest, but even Tom could see how pale the man was; not a good 
sign.  His heartrate and blood-pressure seemed okay, a little slow, a 
little weak, but steady.  Tom grinned slightly in the dark as he shut off 
the light.  Steady had always been one of the Commander's best 
things. 

	Time was starting to crawl again, so he went through the plots 
of damn near every movie or vid he'd ever seen, just the good ones, 
though, the ones that would keep him alert, not the snoozers he'd sat 
through, on occasion.  That was good for what felt like a long time, 
he hoped it was a long time; he was starting to get drowsy, despite 
the pain in his leg and shoulder and back, and, oh, hell, everywhere.  
He fished another vial out of his pocket and let it go.  He could it 
crack against the rocks as it landed, and figured he'd maybe come 
about five hundred more feet.  In the last twelve hours.  He was 
elated that they were halfway to the point where Voyager should be 
able to beam them out of here, but not pleased that he was making 
slower progress.  There wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  
He was tired, hurt and hungry.  And the Commander was heavy, and 
it was dark, and . . Tom stopped himself as he realized he was 
psyching himself out. Whining and feeling sorry for himself weren't 
going to help one damn bit. God, he needed a nap, but couldn't, 
there was no way, not without losing the Commander.  Which was 
*not* going to happen. 

	He sighed and got under way again, after dosing them both up, 
he only had one more of the stronger painkillers.  Shouldn't be too 
bad, though, the weaker ones would still take the edge off, and the 
remaining pain would keep him from falling asleep.  The 
Commander's vital signs were still mostly steady, but weakening.

	"Hang in there, Chakotay," he muttered aloud, the 'hanging' 
pun appealing to his sick sense of humor, making him snort, as he 
got his tired legs going again, making the arduous ascent. 

	He thought of everything, going over physics problems, 
quantum mechanics, warp technology, staying away from the boring 
theory stuff and just thinking about the parts that had to do with 
flying.  He began talking aloud, without really noticing it, setting up 
arguments with Chakotay, then defending both sides.  He was 
vaguely aware of the fact that he was losing it, but it kept his mind 
awake and aware, and that was all he cared about.

	He waited what seemed to him to be a long time before 
dropping another vial to check his progress.  He was exhausted, and 
didn't need a discouraging several hundred more feet to go to sap 
his strength, make him give up.  He checked the time, another 
fourteen hours had passed, and he hoped that he'd gone at least 
another five hundred feet.  He was ecstatic when he finally heard it 
hit bottom, figuring that he'd gone closer to six hundred, meaning 
only three hundred more to go.  Only.  Shit.  Maybe seven or eight 
hours and they'd be out of here.   

	Everything hurt, muscles burned like fire, his legs weren't 
steady enough for him to stand on, he knew.  But, he didn't need to 
stand, only to keep bringing one foot up, letting the climber catch, 
then bringing the other up, and so on.  Chakotay wasn't doing well, 
his breathing was too shallow, the heartrate too slow and faint, but 
Tom refused to let himself panic.  Panic would kill them both, he 
knew it.

	He found himself telling the unconscious man in his arms all 
about his best memories, the ones about fishing and swimming with 
his favorite uncle, his mother's brother, at his place on those too 
brief vacations when his father was off to heaven knew where.  The 
house on the lake, the talks, his mother's contented silence, the 
sunrises and sunsets, how clear the sky looked, how bright the stars, 
the wonder of it all.  He bypassed his father's indifference, sharing 
the delight of an exchanged look with his mother, when they knew 
they were both remembering happy times.  He left out as much 
about his father as he could, the anger only served to weaken him.

	He talked about the best times at the academy, his favorite 
books, how he discovered many of his favorite foods there, and 
music, as a whole new life opened up before him.  Only the good 
times, the happy ones.  Even current ones, with Harry and Kes, and 
B'Elanna.  He felt he'd talked for hours, but wasn't sure, he knew he 
was going a lot slower than he had been, his steps not as high, the 
distance traveled, less.  But he tried his comm badge, anyway.  
Nothing at all, not even a crackle.

	He got into his pocket and brought out another vial and 
dropped it. He waited, straining, but couldn't hear it land, they were 
too far up. Which was a good thing, but he couldn't tell *how* far up, 
or how much further they had to go.  That was *not* a good thing.  It 
was hard to keep up one's morale when you had no idea if you were 
making any headway.  He thought about morale, and Neelix, and 
how some of what came out of the Mess Hall fit the name of the 
place.  Then he started thinking about food, then talking about food, 
going through menu after menu, thoughtfully throwing in a few things 
he knew Chakotay liked, as well.  His mind struggled to make links to 
things that would keep him alert, keep them both alive, but the 
exhaustion was nearly overwhelming and there wasn't much left for 
his mind to hold onto to.

	He'd been talking, non-stop, for over a day, and his voice was 
nearly gone, as was his strength; he was operating automatically, 
now.  No thought save for keeping going, more and more inches 
coaxed out of legs he could barely feel anymore.  He'd stopped to 
shoot up the Commander, but hadn't taken anything, himself.  He 
knew he needed the edge the painkillers would've taken away.  The 
spreading numbness through his back worried him somewhat, but 
even more of a worry was Chakotay's barely discernible breathing, 
so slow, and a heartrate that damn near wasn't.  All Tom could do 
was continue, eventually Voyager had to locate them.

	Finally he heard a crackle on his comm badge, then the 
blessed voice of Tuvok.  He couldn't say a word, even to 
acknowledge he'd heard him, and although he recognized the voice, 
the meaning of the words escaped him.  His legs kept going, one 
after the other, like they'd been programmed to, almost without his 
knowledge, his body crying out for rest and sleep, while in the back 
of his mind the words kept repeating themselves, with every step he 
took.  Right step, I sleep; left step; he dies.  Over and over again.

	As Tom felt the transporter beam lock-on to them both, he was 
barely aware of it.  He saw the Doctor's concerned face, in Sickbay, 
and Kes's, hearing their voices as though through a long tunnel, with 
odd echoes, as they worked to get him free of the gear.  Later, he 
saw Chakotay lying on the biobed next to his, saw them working on 
him, felt distant relief himself when he saw the same emotion on their 
faces, as they worked feverishly over the man on the other bed.  The 
frantic activity slowed down, Tom saw them both smiling, then the 
Captain, saying something to him, something he couldn't for the life 
of him understand.  He saw Kes's concerned face as the Doctor 
held a hypospray to his neck.  He kept his eyes on the Commander, 
as he felt an odd warmth flow through his bloodstream, and his eyes 
closed.

	He felt himself come to, almost immediately, feeling so tired, 
but not asleep, and he didn't know why.  Chakotay was still there in 
the bed next to him, looking somewhat better, a fact he noticed, 
dimly, and was grateful for.  He felt so odd, disoriented and 
completely worn out, but not in pain, anymore, for which he was 
faintly relieved.  He tried to sit up, but couldn't move much, so he 
slowly rolled over and watched the Commander, reassured that he 
was alive, and well. 

	He saw Kes looking at him, and knew who she was, heard her 
talking as she moved closer to him, then saw the Doctor come into 
his field of vision and frown.  He saw the Doc check the hypospray, 
check his vital signs, and looking faintly perturbed, put the hypospray 
against Tom's neck, again.  He sighed, he thought, as he felt that 
same warmth flow into his body.  He let his eyes close, and drifted 
for awhile, not really going anywhere, just sort of hovering, almost in 
a dream state but with no dreams. The rest felt good, but he still 
wondered why he wasn't sleeping, as he floated just this side of 
wakefulness, never venturing further.

	He opened his eyes after a while, saw he was still facing the 
Commander, noticed his color looked good, his breathing seemed 
regular, his chest rising and falling with ease.  He sighed, and lay 
there quietly, simply watching the man.  He didn't know for how long, 
until Kes walked in front of him, and seeing him, looked faintly 
startled, as she walked around the Commander's bed and came 
over to him.

	"How long have you been awake?" she asked softly, frowning 
slightly.

	Tom didn't understand the question; he'd never been asleep.  
But, he just shrugged slightly, pleased when the movement caused 
no discomfort in his formerly dislocated shoulder.  He tried to talk to 
her, to explain, but his voice was still shot, apparently, as she 
brought the Doctor over.

	The HoloDoc had a rather more annoyed look on his face, 
mixed with perplexity, muttering about how he didn't understand it, 
the Lieutenant should have been sound asleep three times over by 
now, and no, he didn't know what the problem was, there didn't seem 
to *be* a problem.  Tom heard the words, but didn't bother to 
respond as he kept watching Chakotay sleep, never taking his eyes 
off the man.  He felt the hypospray hiss against his neck again, 
wondered idly why the Doctor was even bothering.  He knew it 
wouldn't work, something in his head told him so.  The fact didn't 
disturb him at all, it simply was.  He let his eyes shut partway, as Kes 
and the Doctor moved off, apparently satisfied, and opened them 
again as soon as they were out of sight.

	He lay there, staring at the man next to him when no one was 
around, closing his eyes and feigning sleep, the times when people 
were hovering. He saw Chakotay come to, saw Kes's smile, heard 
the Doctor say something about making a full recovery, just a matter 
of time, and sighed to himself. That was good to know.  He saw the 
Captain come in, stop by Chakotay's bed and talk to him.  She 
glanced up to look at him and he forgot to close his eyes.  The 
Captain mentioned something to Kes, who came right over, with the 
Doctor on her heels.

	Tom heard him tell the Captain about his being nonresponsive, 
not saying a word since his return, allowing for the strain on his vocal 
cords, an indication that, possibly, the Lieutenant had talked himself 
out during the ordeal.  Tom's eyes never left the Commander's face, 
even when the man turned his head to face him, looking him straight 
in the eyes.  Tom heard Kes tell the Captain that they couldn't keep 
him asleep, that they had pumped enough sedatives into his body to 
drop half the bridge crew, but it hadn't bought him more than a 
couple of hours total, at the most.

	Tom saw the concern on Chakotay's face, and smiled slightly. 

	"You okay?" he rasped, softly, to the astonishment of those 
present, ignoring the Doctor's ascerbic comment that he knew the 
silence was too good to last, as Kes hushed him.

	Chakotay nodded, a small, confused smile on his face, as he 
whispered, "Yes."

	"Good," Tom sighed and, closing his eyes, fell asleep, under 
the puzzled, though watchful eyes of the Commander. 

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

	Tom woke abruptly a couple of hours later, to find Chakotay's 
eyes still on him.  He grinned weakly, simply looking back at the man, 
until Kes came over, saw his eyes open and sighed.  She looked up 
over him and he turned over to see the Doctor with another 
hypospray at the ready.  With a move like lightning, he grabbed the 
Doctor's wrist, prompting him to comment that nothing was wrong 
with his reflexes, at least.

	"Doc, don't bother," he said quietly, "I'm sure I'll sleep just fine 
in my own quarters, in my own bed." 

	The Doctor nodded once in agreement.  "Then you may leave, 
Lieutenant," and turning, proceded to examine the Commander.

	Kes helped him into a sitting position, slowly, as the room 
moved slightly.  Taking a firm, yet gentle grasp on his arm, she 
announced to the Doctor that she'd be back as soon as she'd 
walked him to his quarters.

	They walked the hallway to the lift quietly, Kes taking measured 
and concerned looks at him until he had to smile.  She smiled back, 
looking pleased, as they stepped into the lift, and headed to the 
deck his quarters were on. 

	As they entered, Tom stopped and took both of Kes's hands. 

	"I'm fine, really.  I just need some sleep, food, more sleep, 
more food . . " he paused as she laughed softly at him.

	"If you need anything, come back to Sickbay.  Promise me, 
alright?" she said, making sure that he agreed before she left him 
alone.

	The fog in his head seemed to have lifted somewhat, things 
seemed less odd, less distant, than they had earlier.  He replicated 
some hot soup, and a couple of sandwiches, and grinned, thinking 
about all the elaborate meals he had created while hanging in a shaft 
for two days, wrapped around the unconscious Commander.  He ate, 
feeling the fatigue settle into him with each bite, until it seemed he 
couldn't keep his eyes open another minute, and he stumbled into 
bed.

	Less than two hours later, he became aware of screaming that 
tore him out of sleep, snapping him bolt upright in bed, his heart 
threatening to beat right out of his chest.  The screaming had been 
his, but for the life of him, he didn't know why.  No nightmare, no 
nothing.  He lay back and waited for his heartrate to come out of the 
triple digits, noticing his right hand was shaking, again, not knowing 
why.  It hadn't been injured, it was the one that had helped support 
the Commander; there wasn't any reason for the tremors he watched 
running through it.  It stopped, eventually, and he ran his fingers 
through his hair. <Probably just a reaction to the trauma of the 
injuries, or two days without sleep, no big deal, get over it> he 
thought impatiently, feeling the tiredness steal back over him, as his 
eyes closed again, falling gently back into sleep in moments.

	About an hour and a half later, the screaming yanked him back 
into full wakefulness again, tearing through his throat and chest and 
leaving both hurting like hell.  It was only 2000 hours, and this was 
getting ridiculous.  The Doctor had told the Captain that he should be 
ready for duty stations tomorrow, after a whole day recuperating in 
Sickbay.  It wasn't going to happen at this rate.  Even Chakotay had 
been told that he was well on his way to making a full recovery; after 
a good night's sleep, in his own quarters, he'd be on the bridge for a 
half shift, at least.

	Tom decided to go to Sickbay, see if the Doc could give him 
anything to help him get through the night.  He didn't even pause to 
glance at himself in the mirror, and so didn't see the pale skin, the 
dark circles around his eyes, the hard edges on his face as he made 
his way to Sickbay.

	The Doctor, however, noticed all of them, when Tom came 
through the door, looking absolutely awful. 

	"Still not sleeping?" he inquired.

	Tom just shook his head, his throat too raw to speak.  The 
Doctor simply nodded, and came over with a hypospray.  <Ah, yes, I 
know it well> Tom thought, tiredly.  The Doc told him he had about 
fifteen minutes to get back to his quarters.  Tom just nodded again, 
and left, missing the Doctor's concerned face totally.

	He made it back to his quarters completely unaware of the 
double-takes people were doing as they saw him.  He felt his mind 
clouding over again, and though he hated the feeling, he was still 
glad; it meant sleep was on the way.  He ordered the lights off and 
fell into bed, barely aware of throwing the blanket over himself 
before sleep claimed him, once again.

	Two and a half hours later the screaming woke him again, with 
some memories of a dark, quiet place, peaceful, really, in it's own 
way.  There was nothing there that could possibly be causing 
nightmares, no trauma, no danger, no nothing.  He sighed, heavily, 
exhausted but awake, and tried to remember more.  Maybe there 
was something he was missing, some impending jeopardy that could 
explain his violent reaction.  The more he thought about it, the more 
he realized there simply *wasn't* anything, nothing at all.  He ran his 
fingers through unruly hair and decided to give the Doc another try at 
knocking him out.  There had to be something stronger he could give 
him. Heaving himself out of bed, he made his way slowly to Sickbay.

	Tom walked through the doors into Sickbay and missed the 
Doctor's stunned expression at seeing him back so soon. 

	"You can't possibly be awake," the Doctor insisted with a 
singlemindedness that would have made Tom laugh, if he had any 
voice left to do it with.

	Tom merely spread his arms apart as if to say 'Here I am', 
causing the Doctor to sigh as he headed to give the Lieutenant 
something stronger than before.

	"Here," he started, filling the hypospray, and emptying it into 
Tom's neck, "This should give you at least eight hours of 
uninterrupted sleep, without the hungover feeling."

	Tom just smiled his thanks and headed back to his quarters, 
leaving the Doctor to wonder what he could do for the man if he 
came back again this night.  Once again falling into bed, he hoped, 
really hoped, that this would be the end of it.

	Shortly after midnight, less than an hour and a half later, he 
was brought painfully back into wakefulness, near-silent screams 
tearing through a ragged throat.  Again, he remembered nothing in 
his dreams that could possibly be causing this, there wasn't even 
anyone else there *in* his dreams to harm him.  He thought about 
going back to the Doc again, but exhaustion took him before he 
could get out of bed and he fell into a restless sleep.

	A little before three in the morning, he woke himself up, with no 
throat left to scream with, just the terror and the panic, for still no 
reason that he could fathom.  Now he made himself get out of bed, 
before sleep claimed him, taking him straight to hell.  He made his 
way to Sickbay again, staggering through the doors, calling the 
Doctor's attention to him. 

	"This simply isn't possible," the Doctor stated in a huff, making 
Tom feel like apologizing.  He strode over to one of the tables, 
grabbing the most potent sedative he had at his disposal, warning 
Tom that this would knock him out totally, possibly for ten to twelve 
hours, and that he might well feel groggy afterwards.

	Tom made his way back to his quarters, luckily running into no 
one in the deserted corridors on the way.  He entered, and barely 
made it to his bed before passing out, not even getting around to the 
blankets.  He slept the sleep of the near-dead until around seven in 
the morning, about four hours later, waking as had been his custom 
all night.  He gave up, sleep was right up there next to hell in his 
book, now, and he was not going back.  He went into the shower, 
letting the hot water turn icy, trying to get as much as possible from 
what he remembered of the dream.  He couldn't even call it a 
nightmare, it wasn't.  He was alone, it was dark, peaceful, totally 
quiet. Well, not totally, there was one slight sound, too far away to 
make out if it was a voice, or what it was, and that was all.  No hostile 
aliens, no trauma, no loud noises, nothing chasing him.  He couldn't 
figure it out, and finally gave up.

	He struggled into his uniform, the thought of not reporting for 
duty never entering his mind.  God, his chest hurt, and his throat, and 
his voice couldn't even be called one.  He debated getting 
something to eat, but thought he'd skip it for now; he had no appetite 
and it would hurt like hell to swallow. 

	He made his way slowly to the bridge, feeling a little better 
since the shower, but still ragged.  He didn't realize how god-awful 
he looked until he entered the Captain's ready room and heard more 
than one gasp at his appearance.  He fell into his chair, ignoring the 
looks he was getting from the rest of the senior staff.

	"God, Tom, you look like death warmed over," Harry said, 
softly, stunned as he took a seat next to his friend.

	"Are you kidding?" B'Elanna asked hotly as she took the seat 
on Tom's other side, "Death warmed over looks a *hell* of a lot 
better than he does."

	Tom glanced up and saw the Captain shaking her head at him.

	"Sickbay, Mr. Paris," she said firmly, not expecting an 
argument.

	"Been there, done that," he rasped in a voice it hurt most 
people to listen to, "And done that, and done that, and done that . ." 
he trailed off as he realized he wasn't making any sense to those 
sitting around him.  Just then the Doctor's voice was heard over the 
comm and, per his request, the Captain activated her monitor. 

	"Captain, I wanted to let you know that Lieutenant Paris will not 
be reporting for duty today.  He came to me several times last night, 
for something to help him sleep.  Nothing seemed to be working until 
a few hours ago when I shot him with enough diazamine cholide to 
stop a charging targ in its tracks.  I feel confident he should sleep 
throughout the morning, possibly into the afternoon," the Doctor was 
smiling smugly, until he heard Paris's voice.

	"Guess what, Doc, the charging targ is still awake," Tom said in 
a rough whisper, really hating to rain on the Doc's parade.

	"That is simply not physically possible," the Doctor sputtered, 
until Janeway interrupted him.

	"Doctor, I will be sending Mr. Paris back down to you, shortly. 
Please do whatever you feel is necessary to help him get some rest, 
Janeway out," she ended before the Doctor could resume 
sputtering.  She looked at Tom, worriedly.  B'Elanna was right, death 
warmed over *did* look better than he did, by a lot.

	"Sickbay, Mr. Paris," she said softly, as he sighed and slowly 
got out of his seat, making his way to the door, hands on the frame to 
help himself through it.  He wouldn't have made it if not for Harry, 
who, at the Captain's nod, had come around the side of the table, 
pulled Tom's arm over his shoulder, grabbed him around the waist, 
and practically carried him into the lift.

	Tom arrived in Sickbay under more of Harry's steam than his 
own, and crashed onto one of the biobeds, as Kes came over, 
looking at him in dismay as her shocked eyes met Harry's, who 
nodded sadly.  The Doctor came over, and brusquely thanking the 
Ensign, dismissed him, saying he would take over now.

	Harry made it back to the Captain's ready room, about the 
same time as Chakotay, who looked good and felt better after 
getting the good night's sleep that had so eluded Tom.  He was filled 
in upon his arrival, sombered by the concerned faces around him, as 
they told him what the Doctor had said, and how terrible Tom looked.

	The meeting adjourned, they took their places on the bridge, 
waiting for word on Tom's condition to come from the Doctor.

	Finally, after several hours, the Doctor reported in.

	"Captain, Mr. Paris seems to be unable to sleep due to a 
recurring dream.  I've tried to drug him through it, but his body still 
reacts dangerously to whatever terror he's experiencing, his blood 
pressure rises to dangerous levels, his heartrate shoots above one 
hundred; Captain, I'm afraid he'll go into cardiac arrest is this keeps 
up much longer.  His dream sounds perfectly innocuous to me, but 
whatever he is experiencing is slowly killing him, a piece at a time," 
he paused, seeing the horrified look on Janeway's face.  "Captain, 
Kes has volunteered to go through it with him, to see if she can tell 
what it is he's reacting to so badly.  I don't like the idea, but she's 
insistent."

	Janeway looked thoughtful for a moment.  "Doctor, what is the 
dream he's having?" she asked, knowing Chakotay, Harry, B'Elanna 
and Tuvok could hear her clearly.

	"He seems to be alone, in a dark, quiet, place; there's no one 
else present, he's in no apparent danger.  He hears a sound in the 
distance, but can't tell what it is, it's too far away.  He doesn't know if 
someone's trying to tell him something; he hears no voices.  Then he 
wakes up, screaming his vocal cords bloody.  And that is all he can 
remember, Captain."

	"Let Kes do whatever she feels is necessary, Doctor, but keep 
an eye on her."

	"Absolutely, Captain," the Doctor said in a slightly insulted tone 
of voice, as if he would *do* anything else.

	Janeway met the eyes of her worried crew, and sighed.

	"I wish her luck," Chakotay murmured softly, as Janeway 
nodded.

	"So do I, Commander, so do I."

	Several hours later, the Doctor called with a progress report.

	"Captain, Kes is on her way.  She'll explain everything when 
she gets there.  I would appreciate it if she only had to tell it once," 
he said quietly.  If Janeway didn't know better, she'd swear he was 
tired.

	"Will Lieutenant Paris be all right?" she asked as the Doctor 
sighed.

	"I'm afraid that remains to be seen, Captain.  I will, of course, 
do everything I can," and with that he signed off.

	Janeway convened another meeting, everyone waiting for 
Kes's arrival.  When she came slowly through the door, Janeway was 
shocked at how awful she looked, how much she looked as Tom had 
earlier, as she stood and, taking Kes's hands, led her gently into the 
chair B'Elanna held for her. She smiled her thanks and sat down.

	"He went through it four times for me," she started, slowly, "He 
wouldn't give up.  It almost killed him, the way his heart reacted to 
the last one, but we know, now," she sighed and continued.  "He's in 
the shaft, again, and it's dark, and he's alone.  The sound he hears, 
in the distance, is the Commander's body hitting the bottom," Kes 
looked up and met Chakotay's eyes as she heard the sharp 
inhalations of most of the people in the room.  "*That's* his 
nightmare, that he fell asleep, and let you fall, let you die.  And then 
he wakes up screaming," she paused and took a shaky breath, tears 
in her eyes, as the Captain squeezed her hands for reassurance.

	"The doctor thinks that part of Tom's mind doesn't believe that 
he can sleep without it killing you.  The dream wakes him up, so he 
can't sleep, so he won't let you die.  Nothing we do seems to help, 
that part of him remains unconvinced that he can sleep without you 
suffering for it, but it's killing *him*," she trailed off, seeing the 
concern in Chakotay's eyes.

	"Captain," he started, looking at Janeway, seeing her nod, 
already way ahead of him.

	"Go, Commander.  Please, keep us informed."

	Chakotay walked Kes back to Sickbay, slowly and quietly, his 
thoughts troubling him greatly, knowing that Paris was killing himself, 
rather than let Chakotay die, in his own mind.  It saddened him, 
greatly, and puzzled him.  Why would Paris let this happen to 
himself, why would he care?  He didn't get much further in his 
thoughts, as they arrived at Sickbay.

	Upon entering, Kes headed directly for the Lieutenant's bed, 
Chakotay right behind her.  The sight of the man shocked him, skin 
so pale it was nearly gray, eyes circled with darkness, looking like 
he'd been a brawl, features so tight and hard, it hurt to look at him.  
Chakotay stood there shaking his head, that the man should have 
come to this.  He noticed the man's right hand shaking, twitching, on 
his chest, as his legs shifted. Chakotay eyes widened as he watched 
the readings overhead show steady and alarmingly rapid increases 
in pulse, blood pressure, everything, all of it on the rise, as Kes 
called out for the Doctor.

	"Here we go again," the Doctor sighed, with a couple of 
hyposprays in his hand, watching the Lieutenant's vital signs rocket 
into danger zones across the board.  Chakotay came forward and 
took the man's shaking hand in his own, feeling the heartbeat, too 
damned fast, beneath his hand on Tom's chest, leaned down to put 
the other at the top of his head, and whispered softly into his ear.

	"I'm okay, Tom.  You're all right and I'm right here.  You didn't 
let me die, I'm right here next to you.  I know you can hear me," he 
paused and squeezed the hand he held, the hand that was no longer 
shaking, "Feel that; I'm right here, relax, I'm right here."  He stopped 
to see the Doctor looking at the readings with some amazement.

	"Why, that's incredible, everything's leveled off and he never 
even woke up.  Commander, this is astounding," he continued 
babbling excitedly as Kes smiled and led him away, grinning with 
relief the whole time.

	Chakotay checked everything; the Doc was right.  All the vital 
signs had come out of the danger zones, and the Lieutenant was 
sleeping peacefully.  He was still standing there some moments 
later, when the Captain came in and walked up to him.

	"I hear we had a breakthrough, Chakotay" she said with gentle 
cheer in her voice, ignoring the fact that her First Officer was holding 
her pilot's hand.

	"Apparently so, Kathryn, though I don't exactly know why," he 
said softly, looking at the readings, amazed.

	"It has something to do with you, Chakotay, that much is 
obvious. I'm pulling you off of bridge duty today; you might want to 
change into something else, unless you mind . . " she trailed off to 
see him shaking his head.

	"No, no, I don't mind, Kathryn, whatever it takes."

	"Good," she said, pleased that this was one less thing for her 
to worry about, with him taking over.

	He took off for his quarters to change into comfortable clothes, 
in chocolate brown and burgundy, before heading back to Sickbay.

	Chakotay took up position right where he'd left, holding Tom's 
right hand, resting them both on the man's chest, feeling the steady, 
slow heartbeat under his fingers, his other hand on his head, 
touching the soft red-gold hair.  He talked to him in a low voice, a lot 
of thinking out loud, really, grateful that the Doctor and Kes had left 
them alone.  Stories from his childhood, tales of his people, his 
adventures and misadventures, the memories, cherished now, of his 
father, and his home.  Something about all this seemed familiar to 
him, somehow, but he couldn't place it, so he gave up, simply talking 
to the man before him.

	Tom reacted to his dream twice more, his vital signs going high 
but not as dangerously, before Chakotay's voice and presence 
relaxed the nightmare's grip on him, letting him fall peacefully into 
deep sleep, again. Finally, after several hours, Tom's blue eyes 
flickered open, gazing in startled puzzlement at his hand in 
Chakotay's, feeling another one on his head.  His eyes widened, 
seeing the Commander's gentle smile, as he watched Tom take it all 
in.

	"You gave us all quite a scare," he said softly, his face only 
inches from Paris's.

	"What happened?  How long have I been asleep?  What did 
the Doc do to me?" his whispered questions rapid-fire as Chakotay 
smiled wider.

	"Kes found out what the nightmare was, do you remember 
that?" he asked then continued at the man's nod.  "I came down here 
to see if I could help.   Apparently I was able to convince you that 
you could sleep without killing me.  You've been out like a light for 
eight and a half hours," he stopped at Tom's wide-eyed look.

	"Eight and a half *hours*?  Good god, whatever you did, it must 
have worked great," he said, still whispering, his throat not yet up to 
letting him speak louder.

	"It seems to have worked fine; you haven't had the nightmare 
for the last four hours, you woke up on your own," Chakotay said in a 
gentle voice, as if afraid of frightening the man.  "It's almost 
midnight," he added, then halted, seeing Tom look at him with 
amazement.

	"You've been here all this time, with me?" he asked in disbelief.

	Chakotay nodded.  "You took care of me, watched over me for 
two days, Tom.  At the very least, I owed you this much.  I was glad 
to do it," he smiled, pulling away when the Doctor showed up to 
examine the Lieutenant.  After much grumbling, he sent Tom to his 
quarters, not believing he'd have any more problems, since it 
seemed to have worked itself out, with the help of the Commander's 
vigil, at his bedside.

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

	Tom made it back to his quarters under his own steam and all 
but fell into the room, still beat.  He felt better for having had the last 
several hours of sound sleep, nearly human again.  He was having a 
few odd moments, though, remembering the feel of Chakotay's hand 
in his, resting on his chest, the feel of the other one in his hair, gentle 
on his head.  He shook himself out of it, these were things to think 
about when his mind was completely functional.  He stripped out of 
his clothes, took a warm, long shower until he felt utterly drained, 
then crawled into bed, looking forward to a peaceful, quiet night.

	Three hours later, he was riding the Nightmare with a 
vengeance, coming out of it as he had before, throat raw, and 
shaking.  *Damn*, he moaned to himself, sinking a fist into the pillow 
in frustration.  He got up and threw on some clothes, heading for 
Sickbay.

	The Doctor felt like groaning when he saw the Lieutenant enter 
again, looking like hell and, no doubt, feeling worse.  He was almost 
tempted to call for the Commander's assistance, but decided to give 
modern medicine another chance.  He hooked Tom up to alpha 
inhibitors, sedatives, neural blockers and tranquilizers, everything he 
could think of with the pool of knowledge at his disposal.  Throughout 
the rest of the night he worked, seeing the Lieutenant growing worse 
by leaps and bounds, until he thought of playing the recording he'd 
made, admittedly without the Commander's knowledge or 
permission, of the stories he'd told Tom earlier, the tales he'd 
shared.  The low, soothing sound of Chakotay's voice seemed to 
quiet the sleep of the man on the biobed, finally permitting him to get 
a scant four hours of admittedly restless sleep, before he insisted on 
leaving the next morning, still deadly tired.

	Tom headed back to his quarters and, glaring at the bed, 
grabbed a hot shower, and put on his uniform.  This morning, he still 
didn't have much appetite, but knew he needed something to keep 
him going, so he headed for the Mess Hall.  He missed Neelix's 
stunned silence at his appearance, missed Neelix comming Kes 
about it, and missed her coming into the Mess to see him at a quiet 
table, in the corner, trying to keep from falling forward and sleeping 
in his breakfast.  She saw Harry and B'Elanna come through the line, 
and stop and stare at Tom before heading over to join him.

	Tom looked up with reddened eyes at Harry and B'Elanna and 
they both would have sworn it took him a few seconds to remember 
who they were, as they sat down.  They looked at each other 
worriedly, then watched Tom not eating his breakfast.

	Chakotay entered, with the Captain and stopped.  It was 
obvious, at a glance, that they were right back where they started 
from.  Dammit, why hadn't Tom commed him, let him know . . His 
thoughts trailed off as he realized that Tom was on a collision course 
with the floor.  Harry saw it, too, but before he could move around the 
table, suddenly, from out of nowhere, came the Commander, who 
made it to Tom's side as he passed out, falling from his chair into 
Chakotay  who was on his knees next to Tom's seat.  With the 
unconscious pilot in his arms, he maneuvered the man back against 
his chest, resting the pale head on his shoulder, his body on the 
floor.  Tom's eyes slowly came open again, gazing at him, unseeing, 
as Chakotay held him gently.

	"You are going back to bed," he said softly, firmly, as Tom's 
eyes focused and he began slowly shaking his head.

	"No . . not that . . please . . Cha . ." his whisper trailed off as his 
eyes slid shut, the words hitting Chakotay hard, making his gut twist. 
<Gods help him, he thinks of sleep as torture> he realized with anger 
and horror at what circumstance had brought the man lying in his 
arms to.

	"Listen to me," he said quietly, trying to contain his anger, for 
fear the Lieutenant would think it was directed at him, "Tom, look at 
me," he felt ridiculously pleased as the blue eyes opened and stared 
at him in trepidation.  "You will not be alone, I will be there.  Trust me, 
please, I'll be right there with you."

	He finished looking up at Janeway, who nodded as she 
whispered, "As long as it takes, Commander.  Whatever you need, 
for as long as you need it."

	He nodded, and pulling his arms more tightly around Tom, 
barked for the computer to beam them both to the Lieutenant's 
quarters.

	He lifted the man up into his arms when they arrived, and 
carried him to the bed.  He set him down gently then proceded to 
take his uniform off him, boots first, socks, then the rest, shaking his 
head in frustration.  He left the shorts on, not knowing what Tom 
slept in, if anything, and got him under the sheets, settled in before 
getting out of his own boots and clothing.  He left his shorts on as 
well, and climbed in next to him, reducing the lights to low.

	He propped himself up on his left elbow and looked at the near 
wraith lying next to him, wondering what it would take to break the 
cycle and allow him to experience sleep as the mind and body's rest 
and recovery, instead of some vicious torment.  He saw the right 
hand twitch at Tom's side again and took it into his own, threading 
his fingers through the long, pale ones before him, resting their 
linked hands on Tom's chest, watching it rise and fall, feeling the 
heart beat somewhat unsteadily, but slowly.  He watched for a while 
before sleep claimed him, his head sinking into the pillow under it, as 
his eyes closed.

	Sometime later, he woke to find himself on his back, Tom lying 
on his chest, his ear over Chakotay's heart.  The Commander found 
one hand still around Tom's, both resting on his own chest, his other 
hand wrapped around the man's head, holding it where it was, 
fingers gently threaded through hair that shone like gold in the soft 
light of the room.  He could see the man's face and realized with a 
start that the eyes were open, simply staring straight ahead at 
nothing.  He could feel the lashes of the eye closest to his chest 
every time the other man blinked; they tickled softly and he smiled.

	"Why does it matter so much to you, whether I live or die?" he 
whispered the question, softly, that had been plaguing him for so 
long, not knowing if he'd even get an answer.

	"Because I need you," Tom answered him simply, quietly, 
honestly.

	"What do you need from *me*?" Chakotay asked, still in a 
whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness in the room.

	"I need your strength," Tom began, in a sleepy murmur, as 
though unaware of what he was saying, "I need your serenity and 
your peace.  I need your integrity and your calm.  I need your sense 
of self, your knowing that who and what you are, you are supposed 
to be.  I've never found those things in me, the closest I ever get to 
them is when you're near.  I need you near me, need to know you're 
near me.  You're my anchor, Chakotay.  You keep me grounded.  
That's why I need you."

	Chakotay sighed thoughtfully, deliberately running his fingers 
through Tom's hair, feeling the man sigh in contentment, feeling the 
soft exhale on his chest.

	"I've always envied *you*," he whispered, meaning it, returning 
some of what Tom had just given him.

	"Why have you envied me?" Tom asked softly, wonderingly.

	"I used to wonder why anytime something dangerous came up, 
you were right in the middle of it.  I used to think you were reckless, a 
daredevil.  Then, for a while, I thought you had a death wish, a 
disregard for your own life that would endanger others.  Then, I 
realized that the things you went into, you did because you could do 
them, and no one else could.  It made me afraid for you, how 
willingly you dove head first into the darkness, going without a 
thought, for yourself, into places where angels feared to tread.  I 
admired your courage, and envied your tenacity, how you never gave 
up.  When you set yourself up for the Kazon to come after you, to 
expose the traitor among us, it was because only you could do it.  
And when you brought Voyager back to us, taking her from the 
Kazon, it was because only you could.  That's why I envy you."

	Tom didn't look up at him, just sighed, closed his eyes and 
easily slipped into a calm, restful sleep again.

	Chakotay ordered the lights lower, and breathed softly, holding 
the man in his embrace gently, as if he were fragile, letting sleep 
overtake him, as well.

	Many hours later he awoke to find that Tom had shifted up so 
that his head was on his shoulder and his own arm had come around 
the man's back, as Tom's was flung out across his chest, his fingers 
softly tracing patterns around his chest, down his breastbone, along 
his ribs and up again, oh, so softly along the collarbone, then out 
onto his shoulder and down his arm, taking Chakotay's hand once 
more in his, lacing their fingers together.

	Chakotay knew his breathing had quickened, it felt to him like 
he was nearly gasping.  He brought his cheek down and tenderly lay 
it on Tom's forehead, gently caressing the bare back under his 
hand.  He felt Tom sigh, felt the man reach up to bury his face in 
Chakotay's neck, as Chakotay brought their joined hands up to rest 
upon his chest, holding the other man's hand over his heart, so Tom 
would know how fast it beat.  The Commander called for the time 
and was amazed to hear that it was almost dinner time; they'd slept 
nearly ten hours since Tom had passed out in the Mess Hall earlier.

	"Hungry?" Tom asked quietly, slipping out of bed at Chakotay's 
nod and, stretching in one fluid movement, arms over his head, went 
over to the replicator to order an assortment of different things for 
both of them.  Chakotay simply watched him, admiring the effortless 
grace of the man, looking at him with new eyes.

	Cheeses, fruits, breads, just cold food, but so good after 
having no real want for food, to speak of, for some time, now.  They 
ate on the bed, Chakotay chuckling at Tom's tossing the strawberries 
up and catching them in his teeth, avoiding the green tops 
completely, Tom grinning at Chakotay's amusement.

	Neither mentioned their newfound intimacy, or the way they 
were finally at ease in one another's company, enjoying this time, 
even, both of them.  Later, Tom realized, all this might scare the hell 
out of him, but for now, he was simply delighting in it.  Chakotay, too, 
wondered if this would be something he'd run from thinking about 
later, and decided he wasn't going to worry about it; he was enjoying 
himself too much.

	Dinner demolished, they fell back into bed, not really tired, just 
feeling lazy.  Tom grinned at the end of dinner, yet another meal that 
wasn't one of the three to seven course food-a-thons he'd been 
rambling about to Chakotay when he was unconscious.

	"What the devil are you grinning at, now?" Chakotay asked 
him, smiling.

	"When you were out, in the shaft, I kept myself busy by 
planning these insanely huge meals . . " he trailed off as Chakotay 
froze.

	"Spareribs, caesar salad, new potatoes with chives, macaroni 
and cheese, and apple pie with ice cream?" Chakotay asked, 
grinning at Tom's astonished face.  "I remember that, sort of," he 
said softly, his head propped on his arm again, trailing a finger down 
the face of the man lying next to him, the blue eyes closing, lips 
smiling slightly, halting at Tom's next words.

	"The Earth Mother and Father Sky, your father, with you, in the 
rainforests of South America, looking for your ancestors, and the 
time you got locked out of your room at the Academy by your 
roommate, and went through the wrong window into Becca 
Montgomery's room, where you stayed the night because she took 
pity on you," Tom finished, opening his eyes and smiling at 
Chakotay's astonishment.  "I remember, too, sort of, like a dream.  A 
good one, though."

	"I told you those things when you were in Sickbay; I've never 
told anyone before," Chakotay said quietly, "I didn't realize you could 
hear me."

	Tom looked at him for a moment without speaking.  "No one 
will ever know about them from me; you, too, heard things I thought 
you were too far gone to hear, or remember, things no one else 
knows about me.  Keep them, I know that no one will hear about 
them from you.  I trust you with my life, Chakotay.  I can certainly 
trust you with my memories," he finished softly, putting a hand to 
Chakotay's face, resting it there.

	"Thank you for that, all of it," Chakotay whispered, covering the 
hand with his own, smiling at Tom's poorly hidden yawn.  "Come 
here," he offered, as he lay on his back, holding his arms open, 
bringing Tom to him as he came into them without a second's 
hesitation.  They each felt the other's sigh of contentment, as they 
held one another, and gradually drifted into sleep.

	The next morning found Tom asleep on his stomach, with 
Chakotay lying across the man's back, cheek resting on one 
shoulderblade, arms around him.  Chakotay sighed and moved off 
carefully, but Tom came with him, putting his arms around the other 
man, resting his chin on Chakotay's shoulder, looking into his eyes.

	"So, same time tonight?" Chakotay asked lightly, letting the 
man know he had no intention of letting him try it again, alone, yet.

	"How long are you willing to be my security blanket?" Tom 
asked softly, wry amusement coloring his voice.

	"As long as it takes," he answered, firmly, but gently, relieved 
when Tom's face relaxed.

	Tom sighed.  "I haven't needed a teddy bear to get me through 
the night since I was three; I feel ridiculous."

	Chakotay chuckled, shaking his head.  "Don't.  Part of this is 
what you did to yourself in order to stay awake and keep me alive.  
It's only right and fair that I help you let it go."

	Tom snuggled in deeper, enjoying the feeling of being 
cherished as the other man's strong arms tightened around him.  
Then he sighed, knowing it was time to get to the bridge; since he'd 
stuffed himself last night, the *last* thing he wanted was breakfast, 
right now.

	Chakotay headed to his own quarters after throwing on his 
clothes, Tom watching, and enjoying, the way the man moved.  He 
heaved a sigh as he crawled out of bed and headed for the shower.  
Gods, he hadn't slept so damn much in years.  He felt as much 
pleasure as he did irritation that he'd needed Chakotay to get through 
it all without the nightmare, the screaming, the waking up.  He tossed 
his own uniform on and took a long look at himself in the mirror.  He 
did look better, still faint circles under his eyes, still slightly pale, but 
another night or two like last night, and he'd be back in top form, 
again.  He almost felt like whistling as he left his quarters, heading 
for the bridge.

	Tom arrived in the Captain's ready room before Chakotay, 
grinning at Harry and B'Elanna, who both grinned back.  This was the 
Tom Paris they were used to, not the wreck of a man who looked like 
he was at death's door, the one they saw in the Mess Hall yesterday 
at breakfast.  Whatever the Commander had done, it certainly looked 
to be working like a charm.

	Both of them were somewhat startled when Chakotay walked 
in, whistling some tune, stopping when he saw Tom.

	"What *is* that?" he asked, unable to get the song out of his 
head.

        "'Thank You, For Letting Me Be Myself' by Sly and the Family 
Stone," Tom answered, grinning.

	"I like that song," Chakotay smiled at him.

	"I *love* that song," Tom returned, as they both started 
laughing, right as Janeway walked in, stopping and staring in 
amazement, at her First Officer and Conn Officer, laughing, 
*together*.

	"I take it you spent a lot of time singing," Chakotay teased, as 
he took his seat.

	"Hey, I don't just do menus, and you should be thankful that 
you were unconscious at the time," Tom shot back, sending them 
both into laughter again, as Janeway took her seat, and brought 
things to order.

	She didn't miss any of the smiles and looks that went from one 
side of the table to the other, as the staff went through reports and 
took care of ship's business.  She was delighted with their newly 
evident friendship, but puzzled at the camaraderie and closeness 
they had managed to forge, in such a short time.  She shook herself 
and let it go; she'd been hoping these two could find some common 
ground for years, and she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the 
mouth.  Meeting dismissed, they all headed to their posts, B'Elanna 
remaining on the bridge to work on one of her pet projects.

	It was a quiet day, thankfully, and Janeway was glad to have 
both her officers back where they belonged.  Tom seemed relaxed, 
even happy, and gods knew, he certainly looked better than the day 
before.  Nothing had ever worried her quite so deeply as when she 
saw him, out cold in the Mess Hall, then coming to and pleading with 
Chakotay not to make him sleep.  Thank god that was over.

	Chakotay seemed to be out of his seat every few minutes or 
so, leaning over the Conn, as he and Tom bantered back and forth 
on the various merits of this course versus that one, and other 
seemingly minor things.  Janeway realized it was bantering she was 
hearing, neither one of them had their backs up, the barely disguised 
hostility right below the surface that had bothered her for so long.  
They seemed to be *enjoying* this.

	Something was odd with this picture, though and it took her a 
moment to figure it out.  Chakotay was standing right beside Tom, to 
his left, with his right hand on Tom's right shoulder.  That in itself was 
strange, they *never* touched.  But Chakotay's thumb was on the 
back of the Lieutenant's neck, slowly moving in small circles against 
the skin.  Janeway had to look twice, just to make sure she wasn't 
seeing things.  The kicker was that *neither* of them seemed to be 
even remotely aware of it.  She was just about to ask the 
Commander for a moment in her ready room, when he leaned closer 
to Tom, and his hand moved slightly on the other man's shoulder, 
and the  . . *caress* stopped.  Janeway had decided to let it go, no 
one else noticed, when Chakotay began stroking the side of Tom's 
throat with his index finger, slowly up and down, again not even 
aware of it.

	Janeway put her hand over her eyes and heard something 
behind her.  Turning, she saw Ensign Kim standing there, with a 
wicked grin on his face, his hands over his ears.  She heard 
something coming from her other side and turned to see B'Elanna 
with both hands over her mouth, looking like she was solely 
responsible for the lack of canaries aboard Voyager.  Hear No Evil, 
Speak No Evil, oh god, and just a moment ago, she herself had 
been See No Evil.  They knew, the both of them, and had seen the 
Commander's behavior.  She called out in a strangled voice that 
Chakotay had the bridge before she fled to her ready room to 
indulge in a laughing fit.  It left Chakotay wondering what was going 
on, as both Harry and B'Elanna simply looked at him with 
too-innocent expressions on their faces, before returning to work.

	Janeway managed to compose herself, but nearly lost it again 
when her eyes met Harry's as she returned to the bridge.  She 
leisurely strolled past his station, startling him by asking quietly if 
she'd missed anything, seeing him bite his lip to keep from laughing.

	"Not a thing, Captain," he replied, when he could, as Janeway 
moved off, slightly grinning, heading over to B'Elanna.

	B'Elanna looked up at Janeway with wide-eyed innocence, but 
gave up when she knew the Captain wasn't buying it.  She nodded 
over to Tom and Chakotay who were once again practically joined at 
the hip, the Commander's hand again resting on Tom's shoulder, 
and sighed, smiling slightly.

	Janeway looked at the two men, wondering what the hell was 
going on with them, when she saw Tom's left hand come up as he 
threaded his fingers through Chakotay's on his right shoulder, his 
arm across his chest, still deep in conversation with the Commander, 
and not paying the slightest bit of attention to this inappropriate 
behavior.

	"Commander, could I see you for a moment?" she asked 
quietly, seeing the looks on both of their faces as they realized they 
were holding hands, practically, also seeing the soft, warm smile 
they exchanged, before Chakotay squeezed Tom's shoulder and 
followed Janeway into her ready room.

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

	"Captain, my apologies, it won't happen again," Chakotay 
began as Janeway waved him into a chair.

	"Relax, Commander, please," she started, then paused, not 
knowing how to continue the conversation with *this* man about his 
behavior regarding the *other* man still on the bridge.

	"I can't tell you how delighted, and relieved, I am that you and 
Lieutenant Paris seem to have discovered a way to get past your 
differences.  Your obvious friendship is a pleasant surprise; I'd 
nearly given up hope," she continued, wryly, "But the bridge is a 
difficult place to maintain proper boundaries, even in the best of 
circumstances.  Just use caution, that's all I ask.  I don't want either 
of you suffering any repercussions because of your new 
relationship, whatever it may be."

	"Understood, Captain," Chakotay said, unable to keep the 
smile off his face.

	"Should I ask what's going on with the two of you, Chakotay?" 
Janeway inquired gently, giving her First Officer an opening.

	"I don't know yet, Kathryn.  We seem to be on the same path, 
for once, but I'm not exactly sure where we're going.  I'll let you 
know," he finished with a smile, drawing one from her, as well.

	"Very well.  Dismissed."  She sighed as he left, hoping that 
wherever they were going, they would enjoy their journey together, 
for as long as it lasted.

	Tom looked inquiringly at Chakotay when he returned to the 
bridge, then seeing his reassuring smile, answered with one of his 
own, and went back to work, suddenly impatient for the shift to be 
over, feeling slightly fatigued, again.  He looked up, finding Chakotay 
at his side, and smiled.

	"Are you okay?" Chakotay asked softly, looking down at Tom 
with some concern.

	Tom smiled up at him, warmly, a smile Janeway caught in full 
when she returned to her chair.  He nodded.  "I'm fine, just a little 
tired.  I'll make it, don't worry, it's only another hour or so," he quietly 
told Chakotay, who was having a hell of a time not putting a hand on 
the man looking up at him so openly.

	Chakotay nodded.  "Dinner in my quarters, tonight?  I don't 
really feel like braving the Mess Hall," he said lightly, loving Tom's 
wider smile at the idea.

	"Sounds wonderful.  I just hope I can stay awake long enough 
to eat," Tom replied, grinning.

	"If you can't, we sleep there," Chakotay said, getting another 
smile from Tom and returning it, his fondness for the man obvious to 
anyone who bothered to look.  And most of the bridge crew were 
looking, with interest, marvelling at the affection between these two, 
wondering what they'd missed, and how and when.

	Chakotay returned to his seat, feeling rather proud of himself 
that he'd managed to keep his hands off Tom, doubting his ability to 
keep such contact strictly professional, at the moment.  He found 
himself looking forward to dinner with an anticipation completely out 
of proportion to the meal.  He also found he was looking forward to 
spending some time alone with Tom, and wondered if he felt the 
same.

	Finally the shift was at an end, and the two headed off the 
bridge, mindful of the grins and looks they were getting.  They 
managed to keep the conversation on general topics, minor 
subjects, trivial things, until they reached Chakotay's quarters.  As 
soon as the doors closed behind them, they were in each other's 
arms, feeling somewhat foolish, but feeling better, too, knowing that 
the need to hold and be held was equally strong for both of them.

	Tom felt Chakotay's sigh and answered it with his own, 
revelling in the warmth and closeness of the man with him.  He pulled 
back slightly, not able to take his eyes off the Commander's smiling 
lips, even when those lips were no longer smiling.  He looked at 
Chakotay's eyes, saw the tenderness there, the genuine liking the 
man had for him, things he'd not seen before these last few days 
spent with him.  His gaze returned to the man's mouth, those full lips, 
and what he did next, he found himself helpless to resist doing.  His 
hands came up to touch Chakotay's face softly, as blue eyes met 
brown, asking, seeking.  He hoped he wasn't reading the answer 
wrong as he moved forward slowly and touched Chakotay's lips with 
his own.

	He felt warm hands on his face and, opening his eyes, pulled 
away, to find Chakotay looking at him with continued warmth, 
possibly even greater heat, as he felt himself being pulled in again 
and, going willingly, felt Chakotay return to him the most gentle of 
kisses.  The softness under his mouth was a surprise, he'd never 
imagined the man would feel like this, he'd never imagined how 
Chakotay would feel, period.  He leaned into the kiss, loving the way 
those lips caressed his, the merest of brushes, the most feather-
light of touches, against his own.  Feeling Chakotay's mouth move 
oh, so slowly, along his jaw to his ear, made him moan, barely a 
whisper, as he felt those lips tracing the outer curl there, before 
kissing the lobe, the kissing continuing down his neck, taking his 
quickening pulse, as his mouth came back up and, once again, 
touched his own.

	His hands never left Chakotay's face as his lips moved over 
the other man's, licking their outline with just the tip of his tongue, 
softly moaning again when he felt Chakotay's tongue caress his own, 
as he followed it back into his mouth, the kiss deepening and 
expanding.  He felt the need for air and breathed in as Chakotay 
exhaled, then breathed back as he felt the other man inhale.  He felt 
almost high, he was so lightheaded, as they continued to breathe for 
each other, never stopping the kiss that was wreaking such havoc on 
their senses.

	He tasted that incredible mouth, never before knowing, or even 
imagining, that such delight existed there.  Felt the soft warmth of it, 
tasting that which was Chakotay, fire and forest and heady, sweet 
spice.  He felt himself shaking, felt the man before him tremble as 
well, as they parted, slowly, stealing quick, light kisses, eyes meeting 
eyes, looking for assurance, finding it, as their arms came around 
each other.  They held on tight, hands caressing backs, as heartrates 
slowed to lower numbers.

	"So, how bad is it?" Tom asked of the man in his arms, the 
man he never wanted to let go of, as he felt Chakotay's chuckle 
rumble in his chest.

	"Oh, it's bad, Tom, gods help us, it's bad," Chakotay answered, 
turning his head to kiss Tom's neck, hearing the soft breath that 
sighed forth from him.

	"What's happening to us?  How did this happen?" Tom asked 
breathlessly, looking for the answers in the tender, brown eyes 
before him, as Chakotay moved slightly, to kiss him again, that 
incredible taste and heat filling his senses to overload.

	"People have been asking questions like those for centuries, 
and no one's figured it out yet," Chakotay whispered against his lips.

	"Then, I don't have a prayer of finding the answer," Tom 
concluded softly, thinking about nothing other than the feel of the 
man before him, as that mouth touched his own, asking, answering, 
sharing, demanding, as their lips met again, and again.

	"Oh, fuck it," he moaned softly into Chakotay's mouth, the 
sweet assault unrelenting, "*You're* the answer."

	Chakotay moved away, slowly, chuckling, taking in Tom's 
glazed, darkened eyes, the kiss-bruised mouth, the heightened color 
of his skin, and stopped, staring.  Seeing the soft smile, the tender 
heat in his eyes, he was floored.

	"What?" Tom asked, seeing the stunned look on the other 
man's face. "Chakotay, what is it?  You look like you've never seen 
me before."

	Chakotay reached out a hand and cupped Tom's cheek.  "I 
haven't, not looking the way you do right now," he said reverently, his 
thumb stroking the too-sharp cheekbone.

	"Why?  How do I look?" Tom asked, faintly puzzled.

	"Come here," Chakotay said, taking his hand and moving him 
over to stand in front of the mirror, looking over his shoulder, as Tom 
leaned back into him, pulling Chakotay's arms around him, crossing 
them over his chest, watching them in the mirror.

	Tom noticed his color was higher than normal, his breathing 
more rapid, his eyes darker, as he met Chakotay's eyes in the 
mirror.  He felt his heart speed up as Chakotay caressed his chest, 
his shoulder, with one hand as the other moved back to stroke his 
neck softly.

	Chakotay kissed the side of his neck, moving around to the 
back, watching Tom's head drop, hearing him moan.  He saw the 
color rise again, saw that wonderful mouth come open slightly, saw 
the eyes half close, as he licked the other man's ear, kissing his way 
down the side of that long throat, wishing he could heal all the recent 
damage from the outside.

	Tom looked at Chakotay in the mirror, feeling unbelievable jolts 
of arousal course through him as their eyes met again and those 
strong, gentle hands started slowly undoing his uniform.  He saw the 
question in Chakotay's eyes, and didn't honestly know if he was up to 
the answer.  Chakotay saw it, and whispered, "Just to hold you, 
touch you, that's all, like last night, in my arms."

	Tom nodded, letting the man strip him down to his underwear 
and lead him to bed, reminiscent of the day before when he was too 
out of it to help.  Chakotay took off his own uniform, aware that Tom 
was watching every move he made.  He shivered at the look in the 
other man's eyes, then abruptly remembered they still hadn't eaten 
dinner.

	He headed to the replicator, cocking his head at it.  "What 
sounds good?" he asked, wishing he'd rephrased it another way 
when a slow, wicked grin spread over Tom's face.  He sighed, 
smiling.  "For dinner?" he amended, inhaling sharply as Tom leaned 
back into the pillows, and brought his arms over his head, lacing his 
fingers behind it, shoulder and chest muscles flexing, looking for all 
the world as if he didn't have a clue what his provocative posture was 
doing to Chakotay.

	"Grilled swordfish, with garlic and lime, and wild rice," Tom 
said, sighing at the thought.

	"Garlic?  With Fish?  Think I'll be kissing *you* again tonight, 
think again," Chakotay said, grinning, as Tom laughed.  It did sound 
pretty good, though, so he ordered two, bringing them back to the 
bed.  Eating together was still fun, with Tom stealing bites off 
Chakotay's plate, until they were both laughing.

	"Can't help it, yours tastes better," Tom grinned into Chakotay's 
glowing face.  His grin widened as Chakotay began feeding him off 
his plate, loving the way Tom's eyes closed the same time his mouth 
closed around each morsel, savoring the food and the company, 
sighing in blissful contentment.  Tom thought fair was only fair and 
fed Chakotay off his plate, looking askance at the man's puzzled 
expression.

	"You're right, yours tastes better," he said, sharing Tom's 
smile, as well as his dinner, until nothing was left.

	Chakotay got rid of the plates, lowered the lights, then came 
into bed, already used to the wonderful feel of Tom's arms around 
him, as he lay his head on the strong shoulder, loving the slow 
caress of Tom's hand on his back.

	Tom felt Chakotay turn his head and kiss his chest, felt his 
heart jump in response as he sighed.  "Gods, I love the feel of you, 
Chakotay.  I can't get over it, the scent, the touch, the heat, all of it.  I 
don't think anything has ever hit me like this."

	Chakotay sighed.  "It's not just you, you know," he said quietly.  
Tom put a gentle thumb under Chakotay's chin, tilting his head up for 
his kiss, wrapping his fingers around the back of the other man's 
neck.  His lips brushed lightly back and forth, more caress than kiss, 
until Chakotay rolled on top of him, resting his forearms on either 
side of Tom's head, kissing him back with a gentle intensity.

	Chakotay felt Tom's fingers move into his hair, first massaging 
his scalp, then holding him right where he was.  He felt Tom's arms 
quivering somewhat and backed off slightly, seeing eyes narrowed in 
both arousal and fatigue, and eased off his assault on the other 
man's senses, bringing them both back down gently.  He rolled off 
Tom, taking him along, and settled him into his embrace, hushing 
both protest and apology with soft kisses, bringing the golden head 
down onto his chest.  He felt Tom sigh as his arms came around 
him, felt his breathing gradually level out, become deeper.  He 
reached to the side and grabbed the covers, flicking them over the 
two of them, bringing them up to Tom's shoulders, as he kissed the 
top of his head, and settled in to sleep.

	He surfaced briefly during the night, to find they'd rolled onto 
their sides; he was spooned up behind Tom, curled protectively 
around him, hand on his chest, holding him back against Chakotay's, 
feeling the man's slow, steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.  He 
moved even closer, heard Tom murmur in his sleep, and closed his 
eyes again to join him there.

	He woke early the next morning to find Tom lying on his side 
next to him, one fingertip softly tracing his tattoo.  He smiled to see 
Chakotay's eyes open and bent down to kiss him, mouth opening to 
moan as the other man returned it.  Chakotay's arms came around 
him, one hand holding the back of his head, the other stroking his 
back as the kiss escalated in intensity and passion until they were 
both hard and breathless.  Tom tore his mouth away to breathe, only 
to groan as he felt Chakotay's mouth move up his neck, the sweet 
assault making him hotter than hell.  He shifted his way down the 
Commander's body until he was able to return the favor on 
Chakotay's chest, licking and nibbling, tonguing the man's nipples 
into hard points, dragging his teeth across them until he heard him 
groan.

	Chakotay's back arched up off the mattress as Tom continued 
to nuzzle him, gently rubbing his unshaven cheek on his chest, the 
rasp of stubble increasing his skin's sensitivity even more.  Chakotay 
couldn't bear the passive enjoyment any longer and, wrapping both 
arms around Tom, flipped them over, moving on top of him to kiss 
and torment the beautiful man lying beneath him.  He kissed his way 
slowly down Tom's chest, watching his face mirror what his body was 
feeling, until he came to the waistband of Tom's shorts.  He traced it 
with his tongue, hearing Tom gasp, dipping into his navel, just to 
make him writhe.  Using one hand, he tugged the shorts down, Tom 
lifting his hips to help him, then slid them down his long legs and off.  
He looked at the flushed face above him to make sure Tom didn't 
have a problem with what he was doing.  His blue eyes looked 
unbelievably turned on, glazed and darker than usual, but not 
unwilling.

	He bent his head to use his tongue on Tom's upper thighs, 
feeling the golden body tense.  He glanced up to see the man 
gripping the sheets in his hands, knuckles going white, and grinned 
to himself.  He lightly touched Tom's hardened cock with his tongue, 
just around the head, loving the sweet-salt taste of him and damn 
near got bucked off the bed in response. He licked his way slowly up 
the length, loving the faint gasps and moans coming from the man 
moving restlessly under him, before taking him into his mouth and 
sucking, hard.

	"Oh, dear *God*, Chakotay," Tom moaned, thrashing on the 
bed, his upper body rising up only to crash back onto the sheets.  He 
felt Chakotay's hand come up to caress him, moving slowly over his 
balls, as he opened his legs wider to allow him greater access.  It 
had been a while and, damn, he was so close, already.

	Chakotay felt Tom shift and increased his speed, knowing from 
the shuddering and shaking that Tom's orgasm couldn't be far off.  
He moved easily up and down Tom's cock, swirling his tongue 
around the head, down the underside, as the groaning got louder.

	"*Yes*, oh, yes . . I'm coming . . I'm . . oh, god . . *Cha*," Tom 
barely got out before shouting, back arched nearly to the breaking 
point, as he exploded in Chakotay's mouth, matching the explosion 
inside his head.  He was dimly aware of the man licking him clean 
before he felt Chakotay move up next to him and pull his unresisting 
body into his strong arms.

	Damn, he was exhausted, too tired to even open his eyes.  He 
heard Chakotay speak to him softly, then with urgency, and forced 
his eyes open.  Focusing took him a minute, finally coming when he 
realized the Commander was looking at him worriedly.

	"Oh, thank God.  Tom, I'm sorry.  I should have known it was 
too soon for this," Chakotay started guiltily, stopping when the man in 
his arms shook his head.

	"Don't you *dare* apologize.  You still would've blown my head 
off, no matter what shape I was in.  Damn, Chakotay, you're *good*," 
Tom grinned at him, an odd combination of wicked and exhausted, 
before pulling Chakotay's mouth down to his own, tasting himself in 
the long, lingering kiss that followed.  He felt Chakotay groan into his 
mouth, felt his warm body move over his own, then felt the 
unmistakable evidence of arousal pressing insistently into his thigh 
as the kiss heat up.  He let his hand roam lower, stroking Chakotay 
through the fabric, before moving his hand inside.  Tom felt the other 
man shudder violently, and heard him gasp into the kiss, as he 
brought one hand up to hold his head still for his lips' assault, while 
the other stroked his erection to nearly painful hardness.

	Chakotay tried to move, but Tom threw a long leg over him 
holding him immobile while his lips and hand continued to drive him 
out of his mind.  He couldn't move, couldn't do anything but enjoy the 
kisses and caresses.  Tom's tongue plunged into his mouth, stroking 
and playing with his own, while a gentle thumb teased the head of his 
cock, spreading the precum around the entire surface.  He groaned 
as Tom began mimicking the thrusting of lovemaking with his tongue, 
his hand moving to tug the shorts off Chakotay, before coming back 
to run over his cock.  Chakotay began thrusting into Tom's hand, as 
Tom was into his mouth, when he felt the man pull away from him.  
He opened his eyes to see Tom shaking his head at him.

	"In *me*," he whispered, kissing Chakotay all over his face.

	Chakotay shook his head, "Tom, there is no way you're up to 
that."

	Tom chuckled, running his hands all over Chakotay's body, 
"You'll be doing all the work, Cha," he said roughly, turning his 
aroused eyes on Chakotay, letting him see his need.  "I want to feel 
you come inside me, please," he finished, running his hand down 
Chakotay's length, wrapping around his cock, feeling the man 
shudder, hearing him groan.  He knew he was hardly playing fair, but 
he really didn't give a damn.  He had to have Chakotay inside him, 
now, before the desire burning within him set the sheets on fire.

	Chakotay nodded, groaning, his eyes still closed, as he moved 
up between Tom's legs.  His weight on one elbow, he began 
caressing the man under him, opening his eyes to see Tom bringing 
those long legs up around his neck.  He turned his head to lick down 
the thigh, grinning slightly at the gasp he heard.  He moved his hand 
up the other leg, then underneath that beautiful body, fingers 
touching experimentally, gently working into the small opening, first 
one, then two, loosening the tight muscle.  He noticed Tom was 
getting hard again and grinned, loving the man's responsiveness.

	Chakotay reached up and opened the drawer in the stand by 
the bed, getting the small tube of lubricant there.  The slight pressure 
of his hand opened the valve, allowing a fair amount to ooze onto his 
fingers, before he relaxed his grip, letting the valve shut off, tossing it 
next to him on the bed.  He touched Tom tenderly, making sure he 
was well prepared; all that mattered now was pleasure, pain was 
completely unwelcome after the events of recent days.

	He felt Tom's hand groping about on the bed until he found the 
tube, squeezed some onto his own hand, and began stroking 
Chakotay, the warmth and slickness making him moan.  Gods, he 
could come from this alone, he knew, but took Tom's hand and 
wrapped it around his own cock, as he slowly slid into his lover's 
body.  The incredible tightness took his breath away, as he began 
gently rocking back and forth.  Seeing Tom's hand tighten on 
himself, slowly but roughly stroking himself, was driving him crazy, 
and from the look on the man's face, he damn well knew it, too.

	Tom was drowning in sensation, feeling Chakotay thrusting into 
him, watching the man watch him pleasure himself.  He sped up his 
own rhythm, groaning in delight when Chakotay did the same.  His 
back arched, beyond his control, as he felt Chakotay moving deeper 
and faster into his body.  He tightened his hand, speeding up to that 
tempo that never failed to get him off, groaning Chakotay's name.

	Chakotay had never seen anything hotter and more beautiful in 
his life, than watching Tom jerk himself off as he arched and moaned 
and thrashed in response to what Chakotay was doing to him.  He 
sped up again, when he noticed Tom had done the same, going a 
little harder, a little deeper, making him lose his mind.  He could feel 
the pressure building up behind his eyes, in the back of his head, 
everywhere, as he watched Tom bring himself off.

	Tom couldn't take it anymore; he felt himself falling as his body 
shook with the incredible force of his orgasm, felt Chakotay falling 
right along with him, as he cried out, coming in long hot spurts over 
his own chest.  He saw his lover's head thrown back, heard him yell, 
and felt his body tighten, than powerfully release, as he came hard 
and deep inside Tom, then fell forward onto his chest.  Tom let his 
legs slide off Chakotay's shoulders, as his lover moved slowly up his 
body and collapsed at his side.

	Tom was still floating somewhere out in the ether, when 
Chakotay moved closer and wrapped himself around the gorgeous 
body shivering next to him.  He felt one of Tom's arms slowly come 
around his waist, felt the head turn into his chest to kiss it, and 
sighed to feel Tom settle his head over his heart.

	It had been a long time since he'd connected with someone so 
well, and Chakotay knew how rare this was.  His only regret was the 
three days of hell his lover had to go through to bring them here to 
this point.  He smiled to himself as he thought ahead to all the 
wonderful, different ways he could make it up to him.  He felt Tom's 
breathing slow down and even out, felt his body relax, melting into 
Chakotay's, as he sighed in contentment.

	"What are you thinking?" Tom asked softly, glancing up at 
Chakotay to see the smile on his face.

	"I'm thinking about how much I'm going to enjoy making up for 
all the time we've lost, now that we've finally found each other."

	Tom grinned.  "Hmm, that could take a while," he murmured, as 
Chakotay lowered his head to gently kiss him.

	"I'm counting on it," Chakotay replied, smiling into Tom's blue 
eyes, as their lips came together in a kiss filled with passion and 
promise.