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

Disclaimer time once again!   Fifty-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 love between two men and sex two men, 
(well, almost) 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.  :)

Big, *way* big thanks to Smara and Mykkhal for betaing this 
for me.  Any remaining errors are mine, all mine . . .

'Haunting' by Amirin <groh@iquest.net>


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


I'd never seen anyone happier than Dalby the day B'Elanna 
and I broke up.  If he could've danced, he would have. And 
I've never seen anyone madder and more miserable than 
Dalby was when B'Elanna and Harry got together.  I think he 
really wanted to smash our skulls together, but he simply 
watched from a not-so-discreet distance, and waited.  And 
glared.  A lot.

As for me, I was relieved.  Massively, genuinely, relieved. 
They were good together, good *for* each other, and I was 
glad they'd found that they could be more than friends to 
one another.

It wasn't a real happy time for me, but not everything is 
about me and, yes, I *do* know that, as surprising as it 
might seem.  I got used to spending more and more time 
alone, which sucked, but my pool game got better than ever, 
which didn't.  I spent a lot of time drinking, which wasn't too 
smart, but I spent a lot of time practicing flight simms in the 
holodeck, which was a whole lot smarter.  I flew and played 
myself to exhaustion, then staggered back to my quarters 
and collapsed.  More often than not on the couch and I didn't 
wonder, or wasn't awake enough to wonder, how the blanket 
from the foot of my bed kept ending up carefully draped over 
me. The fact that my boots had gotten tugged off during the 
night and put away barely made any impression on me at 
all.  And if I even bothered to notice the faint touch of a hand 
brushing the hair off my forehead, it was dismissed as a 
fanciful dream, albeit a nice one.

I was oblivious to everything but flying. It's not an excuse, 
merely an explanation.  If I couldn't fly it, it didn't matter a 
damn to me. If I'd been paying attention to things, I might 
have caught on just a bit sooner . . .

Anyway, I was a better pilot than ever since there was 
nothing to distract me. I still took the same chances, fought 
the same battles, weighed the same risks.  And, usually, the 
outcomes were more than satisfactory.

Sometimes, I got a little banged up but it goes with the job 
and has never been too much of a hindrance for me to *do* 
my job.  

One day, I got a little more knocked around than usual.  And 
I had no fewer than four people tell me to go to the Doc so 
he could take a look at my back.  I meant to go, too.  I really 
did.  The jolt that sent me into the bulkhead hurt like hell, but 
we were in the thick of a fire-fight and I wasn't going 
anywhere but back to the conn.  Not right then.

As soon as it was all over, the Captain commed my relief 
and told me to take care of myself. She didn't *specifically* 
order me to Sickbay, and I thought a hot shower would work 
just as well on the aches and pains, so I headed to my 
quarters and boiled for nearly half an hour. It was glorious.
Draining, but glorious.

I killed the lights to pitch blackness and stumbled into bed, 
thinking I'd just grab a short nap, then head to Sickbay, but I 
was gone in less time than it takes to tell about it.  Dead to 
the world.  At least, I was until an ever-so-slightly familiar 
touch on my head woke me. Which should have been 
impossible, given the lock I'd set.  Short of a full-scale red 
alert, only three people had the override to enter my 
quarters:  the Captain, Chakotay, and Tuvok.  And the 
gentle fingers running through my hair didn't belong to any of 
them.  Neither did the voice.  It was more like energy than 
sound, warm . . . and wonderful.

"How did I know you wouldn't make it to Sickbay?"

I murmured something in reply and caught the hint of a 
chuckle before the scent enveloped me. Spicy, like ginger, 
mixed with something faintly citrusy.  It smelled delicious 
and was being slowly rubbed into my skin by firm, careful 
hands. Oil, I gathered, before those hands turned my 
shoulders and back to mush over the next hour or so, I'm 
guessing.  I was barely half-awake, so it's a big guess on my 
part.

It felt amazingly good; even the Doc couldn't do better and 
he'd been programmed with about six hundred different 
methods of massage.  I groaned when I thought it was over 
and got another faint chuckle for my trouble, until I realized I 
was being gently rolled onto my back and the hands went to 
work on my front.  I was too tired to question, too 
half-dreaming to care, and I was gone again sometime 
shortly after those warm, slick hands began rubbing my 
scalp.

"Yes, that's it.  Let me take care of you . . ."

The whisper flowed over and through me and I woke to a 
new scent, roses, and a new sensation, soft petals being 
dragged over my skin.  I couldn't see a damned thing in the 
total darkness, but that rose was unerring as it traveled over 
both eyebrows, down my nose, across my lips, over my jaw 
and so on, all the way down my body.  I no longer felt like a 
solid mass and was nearly certain that a sponge would be 
necessary the next morning, just to get me out of bed.  

"Relax.  Let me." 

It dawned on me that the voice was male about the time the 
rose was replaced by a deft finger which followed its path 
and blazed a new one as my body slowly woke up.  And yes, 
at the risk of reclaiming my title as Ship's Slut, all of me 
woke up at the touch of this unknown man. That one finger 
followed the rigid arc of my cock, went down the insides of 
both legs and all I did was open them wider, sinking even 
further into the mattress that welcomed me like a lover.

"That's it.  You know I won't hurt you.  Never hurt you . . ."

Still no clue as to the owner of the voice, but the touch was 
perfect.  Knowing, even.  I didn't see how, but that's how it 
felt to me at the time. <snort>  I couldn't see *anything*, but 
whoever this was could apparently see just fine in the 
blackness.  And the only thing I could think of was Q.  Don't 
ask me why, I didn't *really* think it was him. Or her, for that 
matter. They don't *do* things like this.  And whoever it was, 
they cared too much. Hell, I could *feel* it in the languid 
stroke along my cock, the careful brush of fingertips over my 
nipples, the butterfly-soft kiss on my temple, the soothing 
murmur in my ear.

I ran through every man on board I knew and rejected them 
all, for one reason or another.  Human, judging by the ears, 
hands, and backbone. Smooth skin, especially on his chest. 
Soft, straight hair, long enough to run my fingers through. 
Strong build, yet a gentle touch.

*Who was he?* 

One finger became two as they slid inside me, scissored 
slowly and withdrew, only to enter again, slicker than before, 
and resume.  The first climax caught me completely 
unawares.  A few delicate probes of my prostate and I was 
coming with a low groan, which was drawn out into a 
heartfelt moan when a hot tongue began cleaning off my 
stomach.  It felt incredible, but not quite . . . normal.  Like a 
wave of energy coursing through me, warmth, power, light. 
The orgasm nearly seemed like an afterthought.

A passionate kiss combined with a long, easy thrust into my 
ass brought about the second one of the night, much to my 
continued surprise.  Surprise became shock as the third one 
hit me the instant a warm hand closed around my cock and 
jerked me twice.  Yes, I said *twice*.  <sigh>  I was floating
in ether, feeling totally weightless, the darkness like heated 
silk surrounding me, his touch connecting with more than 
just my skin.

Breathing became an effort requiring almost conscious 
thought and I was hyper-aware of every heartbeat thudding 
through my chest.  I swear I could hear the blood flowing 
through my veins.  Not normal.  And I couldn't bring myself 
to care . . . 

A few more languid thrusts, a soft bite on my neck and I was 
sailing through number four, which was rapidly followed by 
number five when the speed of that hard cock pumping my 
ass increased.  It felt like I was bathing in the warpcore, 
being pulled along a current of fire and feeling, like nothing 
I'd ever known before.  My dim confusion could have 
triggered panic, but all I felt was this vague sense of 
completeness, eerie, but not threatening.  Not at all.

A lick along my collarbone, mixed with some sucking on my 
nipples brought about number six, while that wonderful body 
sped up even more and the thrusts came harder as a firm 
hand worked my cock.  Distant and blissed-out, all I could 
do was respond.  And wonder how I got lucky enough to 
become the living embodiment of total ecstasy.

Energy flowed through me along with number seven when 
he came, filling me, the tingling wave almost electrical in 
nature, but fluid in substance.  He eased out and heat, 
contentedness, and delirium washed over me, but 
apparently he decided I wasn't done yet, so he took me in 
his mouth and sucked me, bringing me to hardness yet 
again.

"Come for me."

Said quietly, but I had to laugh.  It sounded strange to my 
ears.  "What the hell do you think I've been *doing* for the 
last couple of hours? Shit, are you *trying* to fuck me to 
death?"

A low chuckle sent a vibration through my cock and into my 
body and damn me if I didn't feel another orgasm looking to 
find its way out.

"Oh, fuck." 

Another tender chuckle.  "What the hell do you think *I've* 
been doing for the last couple of hours?" Whispered, hotly, 
before that mouth claimed me again and all was lost.  Any 
remaining hold I had on my soul slipped away from me at 
that point.  I was lost, even as the almost painful release 
found me, yet again, for the eighth time that night.  Yet, I 
knew I hadn't physically come more than twice.  Did I care? 
Can you say 'fuck, no?'

Warmth wrapped me up, human, hot, comforting, the rose, 
ginger, citrus and sex redolent throughout the room.  Gentle 
lips claimed the rest of me not bartered away for rapture 
earlier, full, sweet, sacred.

I still hadn't seen his face.  I had no idea who he was or why 
he was here or how in the hell he'd managed to bring me to 
such heights of pleasure as I had never known.  In body, the 
only man I knew that he fit was Harry, and Harry would 
never do this to B'Elanna, ever.  The man practically defined
'faithfulness'.  Come to think of it, Harry would never do this 
to me, either.  I had no idea, none.  And morning didn't give 
me one.  He was gone when I woke.

For several long, sweet moments I basked, then brought 
myself up sharply, wondering if it had all been a delightfully 
delirious dream until I smelled the rose, and the spicy citrus 
from the night before.  The rose was especially strong and 
when I called for dim lights and rolled over, I discovered 
why.  A beautiful crystal vase, like frozen water, held one 
Arcadian bloom, in a shade of blue I'd bet would match my 
eyes exactly.  Propped against it was a folded note, red 
linen, thick and elegant.  Two words inside, perfectly 
scripted in black ink:  'Thank You'.

"Oh, sweet *heaven* are you ever welcome."


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


I was so out of it, after I finally got out of bed, showered, and 
dressed, that I didn't realize I was even in the mess hall until 
I saw Neelix smiling at me, eyebrows waggling in vicarious 
delight.

"Someone looks like he had a *wonderful* night, Tom."

Shit.  I must have been wearing my old 'fucked royally and 
*well*' face from days best left long gone by.  I grinned 
weakly and made my way to a table in the back of the room. 
Apparently, a few people knew I hadn't made it to sickbay, if 
the just-loud-enough-for-me-to-hear whispers were any 
indication.  There were other things I'd just as soon not have 
heard, either.  <sigh>  I still wasn't the most popular person 
on the ship, by any means, and my nearly monastic 
existence of late had put a spotlight on me that I didn't relish 
having there.

A clatter of a tray in front of me cleared my thoughts and 
caught my attention.  Harry, looking worried about me.  
"Hey, Har," I murmured into the stillness of the 
suddenly-much-quieter room as he took the seat across 
from me.

"You okay?" he leaned across the table to ask me. I just 
nodded tiredly and attempted another weak grin.  Damn, I 
was only half-awake, still.  

"What did the Doc say about your back?" Harry asked 
cautiously and I snorted and shrugged, grateful for the 
absence of pain at the movement.  "You didn't go, did you?" 
his tone was challenging and he tried to look stern before he 
gave up and sighed.

"How did I know you wouldn't make it to Sickbay?"

That echo from the night before brought my head up like a 
shot, so fast he jumped a little.

"Tom, what is it with you, this morning, anyway?" he 
scowled a little around the concern.

I had to ask.  Gods help me, I *had* to ask.  He sounded so 
much like . . . 

"Was it you?" I pinned him with a look and he just widened 
his eyes and looked back at me. "Last night in my quarters, 
Harry.  Making love to me. *Was* *it* *you*?"  I had no idea 
how loud my voice was.  None, until I heard Dalby's curse 
and the sound of a chair being scraped back and then, 
everything happened so fast. 

Harry was looking at me like I'd grown another head. I heard 
Neelix greeting the Captain and Chakotay.  B'Elanna was 
heading our way.  And Dalby was heading mine.

"Paris, you son-of-a-bitch!  I thought Torres was your 
*friend*!  And Harry, shit, what the hell was *your* excuse, 
huh?" 

And then, the hand of an angry man was on my arm, nearly 
jerking me around, before it went flying off of its own accord, 
like Dalby had touched something too hot to handle. He 
scowled and tried to grab me again, and about the time 
Chakotay asked what the problem was, here, Crewman, 
*something* picked Dalby up and sent him flying backward a 
good eight, ten meters, until he hit the wall with a sickening 
thud and slid down to the floor, knocked unconscious.  

My eyes met everyone's in a heartbeat, Chakotay had his 
hand reaching for me and I stepped away, why, I don't know, 
but it proved to be a hell of a smart move. Above Dalby's 
head, a circle of flame began spinning, throwing out little 
flickers like a pinwheel, before the writing viciously slashed
its way over the walls and wound around the room, the 
words in the same handwriting as the note, earlier.  Only 
now, they were on fire. 

THIS

MAN

IS

MY

FRIEND

NO

ONE

TOUCHES

HIM


Harry's wide eyes met mine and I knew he was 
remembering that time in the Akritirian Prison, just as I was. 
But, he was here, right here in front of me, and certainly not 
capable of tossing a man across a room, let alone 
fire-writing on the walls.

"Harry?" I whispered, but not at him, not at the one slowly 
rising to his feet.  The lights flickered overhead and in the 
briefest flash of darkness, I saw him, standing right next to 
me. When the lights recovered, I could still see him. All 
right, so I could see *through* him; he was faint, but he was 
there.  

He turned his head to gaze over my shoulder and the look of 
fury he directed at Dalby's now-groaning form was 
unmatched by anything I'd ever laid eyes on.  When he 
headed for Ken, I stepped in front of him.  "Don't.  Please. 
Okay, Har?  Just . . . don't," I pleaded, not so much for 
Dalby, hell, no, but because I didn't want Harry to have to 
live with hurting anyone.  Even if he wasn't exactly living.

He turned to me and elegantly-scripted fire flowed over the 
walls again.


I

WON'T

LET

HIM

HURT

YOU


I sighed and nodded, shakily.  "I know you won't, Har.  I 
know."  I took a deep breath and asked the hard question. 
"Why are you here?" 

I

COULDN'T

GO

YOU

NEED

ME


He moved closer to me as the flaming words died out.  My 
eyes flickered to Harry, the living one, and he looked 
frightened as he mouthed 'Who are you talking to?' to me. 

"I'm talking to Harry," I answered him with quiet resignation 
and his eyes got even wider.  "Har, how long have you been 
here?" 

SINCE 

THE

HULL

BREACH

KILLED 

ME


The collective gasp didn't come as too much of a surprise to 
me as I remembered the hull breach that killed our original 
Harry, allowing the one from the other Voyager to come over 
in his stead, bringing Wildman's baby with him. Gods, he'd 
been here for over three years, already.

"Why *now*?" I asked, my voice unconsciously plaintive.


HE

LEFT

YOU

FOR

B'ELANNA

YOU

NEED

ME


"Har, he didn't leave me. We were never together," I 
protested.  He looked hesitant but the words on the walls of 
the mess hall were anything but.


I

KNOW

BUT

WE

CAN

BE


I rubbed a hand over my hair and felt his gentle, familiar 
touch on my cheek.  I looked into concerned eyes and 
smiled, which made him smile back, though he seemed 
uncertain, still.

"Are you trapped here?" I asked him, softly, but he shook his 
head an instant before the words burst across the walls, 
again.


I

WON'T

LEAVE

YOU


They were growing smaller, and seemed less emphatic than 
earlier.  Plus, they were fading faster.

"Are any of the others here, from the Voyager that 
self-destructed?"  He slowly shook his head 'no' and moved 
even closer to me. I could *see* him, even if no one else 
could, apparently.  I could *feel* him, though he was less 
substantial than the night before.  My hand on his chest 
didn't go through him, but he yielded oddly to me, not like 
the flesh and bone of earlier.  Why couldn't I *hear* him, as I 
had the previous night?

"Question?" I asked, just because I wanted to know.  "Why 
can't you talk to me like you did last night?"


YOU

CAN

EITHER

SEE

ME

OR

HEAR

ME

I

DON'T

HAVE 

THE

STRENGTH

TO

DO

BOTH


I nodded like I understood.  "Are you all right?"  He nodded 
slowly and looked exhausted.  "Do you need to go?" 
Another nod, even slower.  I smiled gently as he grew 
fainter.  "It's okay.  I know you're not leaving.  The 
pyrotechnics just took a lot out of you, huh?" He grinned 
softly and moved his fingers through my hair as he nodded 
again, before leaning forward to kiss me lightly.  "Go on, I'll 
see you later."  He mouthed the words 'Yes, you will' at me, 
then faded altogether.

My eyes closed and stayed closed, partly because I didn't 
want to have to answer everyone's questions, and partly 
because I'd seen the accusing look on B'Elanna's face and I 
didn't want to provoke her. Last thing I wanted, was to watch 
*her* sailing into a wall.

"He's been here, all this time?" Harry asked quietly, almost 
falling back into his chair.  I joined him, my own legs too 
shaky to support me any longer.

"Since he died, I guess," I answered, just as quiet.

"And he was with you, last night?" 

Leave it to Har to get to the tough stuff in a room half-full of 
stunned people.  Chakotay took that opportunity to check on 
Dalby and order him to Sickbay.  Ken's eyes were on the 
ground as he left, Ayala helping him out. The few remaining 
crewmen trickled out after a few meaningful looks from the 
Commander.

The Captain sat silently at the neighboring table and 
Chakotay and B'Elanna joined her. How much was not 
wanting to get too close to me, I'll never know.

"He woke me, last night, after I'd crashed for a while," I 
began, then found I couldn't stop talking about it, even down 
to the rose and the red linen paper.  Torres was shocked 
and not just because my experience last night had doubled 
my record with her. 

"You didn't *know*?" she asked incredulously.

"The available evidence pointed to Harry, but I knew he 
wouldn't do that, not to either one of us . . ."  I began until he 
interrupted me.  

"Then why did you ask if it was me?" He looked hurt, and 
angry, and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. 
Guilty?

I sighed and went for the truth.  "You said something exactly 
the way he did last night and I realized how much it sounded 
like him," I said gently, meeting his eyes so he could see the 
truth in mine and he nodded, mollified.

"Has he . . . have you . . .?" Harry couldn't get it out, but I 
knew what he was asking me. 

"Last night was the first time I was really aware of it," I 
admitted quietly.

"But there have been other times?" Chakotay pressed.

"Maybe, now that I think about it," I said thoughtfully.  "There 
have been occasions when I knew I was alone in a room, or 
on the holodeck, that I didn't *feel* alone, like someone else 
was in there with me. I just thought I was imagining it, or that 
I'd programmed the holocharacters a little too well . . ." 
Weak grins from all of us, on that comment.

"I don't know.  Last night was the first time I heard him, the 
first time he's really touched me, that I've been aware of."

"And you weren't completely aware of it, even then," Harry 
reminded me. I shook my head in agreement and looked at 
the Captain.

"Now what?" I asked her, at a total loss.

"Talk to him," she suggested.  "See what he needs, what he 
wants.  Find out if he's even *tried* to leave."

"See if you can persuade him to go on," Chakotay argued 
and when he got four sets of questioning looks aimed in his 
direction, he explained hastily.  "He shouldn't be here; the 
others left.  Why didn't he go with them?"

"He said he couldn't leave," I reminded him. 

"He said that he wouldn't leave *you*," B'Elanna corrected 
me. "And that you needed him." 

"The more . . . intimate feelings aside," Har began with a 
quick glance at B'Elanna, "if he thinks Tom's in danger, from 
Dalby, from *anything*, he won't go, no matter what," he 
murmured, his eyes on the table as B'Elanna looked sharply 
at him. "He'll stay to protect you," he finished, raising his 
gaze to look at me. 

"This man is my friend . . ." I began in a whisper.

"No one touches him . . ." Harry concluded the same way 
and smiled.

"Where is that from?" the Captain asked, frowning, her chin 
resting in her hand.

"Akritiri," Harry and I answered in unison.

"But, he wasn't *there*," B'Elanna bit off, not sounding 
particularly happy.  

"The corridor, when we got out of sickbay," Harry jumped in 
after a moment's thought, his normal enthusiasm making 
him excited.  "You were telling me . . ."

" . . . what I remembered, right," I recalled.  "You were 
feeling so damned guilty for . . ." a quick look around 
changed what I'd been going to say, " . . . everything, all the 
bad things you remembered . . ."

" . . . and you told me that you remembered me fending 
them off, protecting you from them," Harry said quietly, his 
voice growing choked.  "He won't leave you.  He is not 
*going* to leave, not as long as he thinks you need him," 
Harry went on, his eyes filled with a deeper meaning, 
floating in the tears.

"We have to find a way," Chakotay said.  "He should be 
walking with the Spirits, not trapped on a starship."

We thought in silence for a moment until something 
occurred to me.  "Harry's right," I murmured, thinking aloud. 
"I *do* need him." I glanced up at Har.  "*Every* Tom needs 
his Harry."

B'Elanna was glaring daggers at me, but the light was 
dawning on Harry's face, just as I knew it would be.

"And, somewhere, there's a Tom *without* his Harry, 
because his Harry is still *here*," Harry said, huge grin on 
his face, leaning anxiously toward me.

I nodded and closed the distance between us.  "Now, if we 
can find *my* counterpart, and get him here, then he can 
take *yours* with him when he goes back to wherever he 
came from. The question is, how the hell do we do that?"

"A spiritwalk," Chakotay suggested.  "If there's need, the 
living can enter the realm of the dead."

"Would I be able to find the other Tom Paris?" I asked, 
getting excited about it, myself. 

"Wait a minute, what makes you think *you* should go?" 
B'Elanna asked, her voice sounding rather hostile.

"The need is *mine*, B'Elanna," I explained to her, and 
caught Chakotay's nod of agreement out of the corner of my 
eye.

"And the other Tom will be naturally drawn to this one," 
Chakotay told her quietly, nodding to me. 

"What are the risks, Commander?" the Captain asked, 
frowning.

"Tom could get lost," Chakotay admitted reluctantly.

"I've got a great sense of direction," I shot back with a grin, 
making him snort.

"You could get stuck there," he clarified.  "Like Harry's stuck, 
here." 

I shook my head.  "Tom wouldn't let that happen," I said, like 
I knew for certain.  "He needs *Harry* with him, not me." 

"There are other people who could keep you there," 
Chakotay cautioned.  "Not intentionally, but your need to 
stay with them, talk to them, could trap you."

"I'm not all that attached to the dead, Chakotay, with one 
notable exception," I allowed with an apologetic grin at 
Harry, who chuckled back at me. B'Elanna crossed her arms 
over her chest and glowered at both of us, but we weren't 
really paying a whole lot of attention, not right then.


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


After some more convincing, the Captain gave me and 
Chakotay the go-ahead.  I was in a hurry to bring my 
counterpart here, if at all possible.  I had a feeling I'd need 
him to help me convince Harry to leave.

I all-but-ran back to my quarters to change into something 
more comfortable, while Chakotay got everything prepared 
in his quarters.  It was just going to be the two of us; the 
fewer distractions, the better.

I was throwing on one of my favorite shirts when a hand on 
my shoulder nearly startled the life out of me. I turned and 
there he was.  Harry, looking none too pleased.

"Don't be angry with me," I whispered.


YOU

DON'T

WANT 

ME

HERE


The accusing words flamed hot on the wall behind him. 
"Listen to me, please, Har,"  I begged him, desperate to 
make him understand.  "Somewhere, there is a Tom Paris 
who's all alone, because his Harry, *you*, stayed behind.  I 
can't allow that, I can't let it go on.  I've got you both; he's 
got no one, Harry.  No one."


YOUR

HARRY 

DOESN'T 

LOVE

YOU


I sighed.  "In his own way, he does.  The gift of his friendship 
is love enough, for me."


IT

WASN'T

LAST

NIGHT


Damn, got me. "I didn't know that was you.  He's with 
B'Elanna, now.  Not me. And with good reason.  He's my 
friend, the best I've ever had. Nothing more." 

I 

SHOULD

STAY


"Harry, no."


ONE

TO

LIKE

AND 

ONE

TO

LOVE


"And what about the other Tom, hmm?" I accused him 
deliberately, playing on the guilt.  "He's got no one to like 
*or* love, Harry.  He *needs* you.  If I knew *he* had both of 
you, I'd fight like hell for one of you, you know I would."  I 
knew I was getting to him, he looked so lost, though, gods, it
was killing me. 

"Eternity, Harry.  You'll have him forever, not just when he's 
got time or when he's off duty, but *forever*.  With a Tom of 
your own."


HE 

WON'T

BE

YOU


"You want me dead, is that it?" I asked him and he looked 
absolutely horrified.


NO!


"That's the only way you can have me all to yourself, Harry. 
I've already got one of you, remember?  You'll have to share 
me with him for the rest of my life.  But, the other Tom, 
*your* Tom, has no one.  Think about it, Har.  A Tom with no 
Harry.  He *needs* you.  And you belong with him."  Gods, 
he looked miserable, but the resignation was slowly 
spreading over his face.  He knew.  He knew it had to be this 
way.

He came into my arms and I held him, feeling his arms 
around me, lips on my neck, fingers molding my back.  I 
sighed and eased away.

"I'll be in Chakotay's quarters, if you want to come," I offered 
and he shrugged, unhappy.  "It'll be okay, Har.  He'll take 
good care of you.  And you, of him. It'll be okay."


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


Chakotay was frowning by the time I got to his quarters.

"Problems?" he asked, even though he couldn't see Harry 
next to me, his eyes narrowed and snapping.

"Stop glaring," I told him and Chakotay looked startled until 
he figured out I wasn't speaking to him. "This isn't 
Chakotay's fault." I sure as hell didn't want my XO 
connecting with the wall.


IT

WAS

HIS

IDEA


Chakotay looked carefully at the words, fire-bright, above his 
sofa, but didn't say anything.  Smart man. 

"He knows how to take me where I need to go, to find your 
Tom for you," I reminded Harry.


IS

THAT

HIS 

EXCUSE


Chakotay sighed and looked extremely uncomfortable.  I'd 
had about enough.  "Do you know anyone else who can help 
me do this?" I shot at Harry.  Direct hit, as his eyes dropped 
to the floor before they rose with an effort and met mine. 
'He wants you' he mouthed at me, knowing I understood by 
the dumbfounded look on my face.


THAT'S

WHY

HE

WANTS

ME

GONE


"Oh, Harry," I said sadly, and dragged a shaky hand through 
my hair.  How could I tell him that it really didn't bother me a 
damned bit, assuming it was true?  Chakotay knew he'd 
missed something during the exchange, but didn't ask, 
thankfully.

"Look, Har . . ."  I sighed.  "If you don't want to go, I'm not 
going to force you."  I felt like a total bastard at the way his 
eyes lit up.  "But, I'm *still* going to bring Tom here, if I can, 
so you can tell him yourself, why he gets to spend the rest of 
eternity alone, without you.  How 'bout that?"

Oh, he was angry.  I was honestly surprised that I didn't 
have to pick myself up off the floor, he was so angry.  Maybe 
that's why he left, to cool off.  I dunno.  I looked at Chakotay, 
who simply looked back at me, with some new level of 
increased respect for me in his eyes.

"It's the best thing for both of them, right?" I asked him 
weakly, needing confirmation that we were doing the right 
thing, here. He nodded and gestured to the floor, where he'd 
set up some thick blankets and cushions.  I took a deep 
breath, got settled in front of him as he joined me, and we 
began . . .


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


The first thing I noticed was the silence.  The second was 
the greyness of it all.  Everything washed out and tinged with 
white so stark it sucked the color out of the surroundings. 
Gradually, I became aware of some distant sound. 
Chanting, soft, deep and mellow, providing me with the 
compass I needed, and badly.  Chakotay.  His voice was 
barely registering, before it slowly grew louder and suddenly, 
he was standing in front of me. It took me a second to get it, 
but hey, cut me some slack, I'd never done this before.  It 
wasn't the Chakotay I'd left behind; this was his counterpart. 
Odd, that he should be the first one I saw.

"You have a problem," he stated gently.  I nodded with a wry 
grimace, well aware of the understatement.

"I've got your Harry back on Voyager with me. He doesn't 
want to leave."

"What do you need?"

"Bait."

He looked amused, then snorted, and gazed off into the 
distance.  "We go together," he offered, holding out his 
hand.  I took it and he smiled and the ground beneath our 
feet seemed to be moving at a faster clip than we were, like 
a conveyor belt, almost.  Chakotay's chanting faded into the 
bright greyness and I almost panicked until the hand holding 
mine squeezed gently, reminding me that I was not alone.

Voices came into the surrounding silence, just white noise, 
really; I still couldn't make out anything until one voice 
became clear, very clear.  A voice I knew as well as my own. 
Because it *was* my own.

And he was there.  Me.  I took a deep breath at the startled 
look on his face and jumped into it.  Head first. So, what else 
is new?

"I need your help." 

The other Tom looked askance at Chakotay and moved 
closer to us, cautiously.

"Your Harry is still on Voyager.  He never left.  And he 
belongs with you."

"Then, why isn't he here?"

"Because I'm there, and he doesn't want to leave me." 

Tom sighed and looked at Chakotay, who shrugged.  "What 
can I do?" Tom asked.

"Follow me back, Chakotay can help. Talk to him, get him to 
go with you . . ."

" . . . Tell him I can't face forever without him." And he 
smiled wistfully.  "It's no less than the truth, though, is it?" he 
took a deep breath and nodded.  

Things moved around us, yet we went no where, and I heard 
Chakotay's voice, my Chakotay, in the distance, again.  Tom 
looked up as he heard it and started off at what looked like a 
run, but impossibly fast, and then he was gone, melting like 
smoke into fog. I started after him, considerably slower, but 
Chakotay's hand in mine turned me around.  The tender 
look in his eyes threw me. Gods.  Harry was right.

"I wish you could stay," he murmured, touching my cheek, 
so like Harry had.

"Everyone you care about is here," I told him softly. 
"Everyone I care about is *there*."

He nodded sadly.

"How much time is passing, there?" I thought to ask.  He 
shook his head.

"Not much," he answered.

"'Not much' is relative," I reminded him with a grin and he 
smiled.

"You'll be okay, Tom.  I'll look after you," he promised, 
nodding his head toward the distance.  I followed his gaze 
and saw them, so far off, Tom and Harry, standing together 
so closely, I couldn't see space between them.  Arms 
around each other, Tom not letting him go again.  Ever.  The 
greyness swallowed them and I smiled, relieved, feeling 
weak and tired, suddenly.  Lost.  Confused.

"What's happening . . . to me?" I asked Chakotay, who 
moved closer and seemed far too worried for as great as I 
felt. "Gods, this is wonderful."  What was that sound in the 
distance?  Strange, melodic, tantalizing.  Was it important?

"You can't stay," he reminded me, trying to get me moving, 
walking me back to . . . where were we going?  

"You said you wished I *could* stay," I remembered. 
Sounded like a really good idea to me. "We can be together, 
always.  Right?"

"You don't belong here." 

Why was he trying to convince me of that?  Of course, I 
belonged here. *He* was here. I blinked and in an instant he 
was *really* here, because there were two of him. "Ooo, 
bookends," I murmured, watching the bright grey light shine 
through my fingers and having a lovely time, thank you very 
much. 

They both snorted and looked at each other.  Wearing 
identical expressions, so it didn't matter which one of them I 
looked at, I guess.  One of them took my hand away from 
the other and things got a little less fuzzy, but not a whole 
lot.

"He may be better off, here, with me." 

"He belongs with me." 

"Will you protect him, watch over him, keep him safe from 
harm?"

"With everything I am."

"Then go, with my blessing.  Take care of him." 

"I will.  I promise."

And I was moving again, why, I didn't know, but Chakotay 
seemed determined and I know better than to argue with the 
man when he has that *look* on his face, you know that . . . 
what was I talking about?

"Hi," I whispered at the one who was leading me off . . . 
somewhere.  "This is pretty, isn't it?" I mumbled, following 
his footsteps.

"Hi, yourself," he said quietly, tugging me along.  "It's very 
pretty, yes."

"We're going somewhere, aren't we?"

"We're going back."

"Oh.  Okay."

Things moved a little faster and a heavy weight was in my 
chest and I couldn't get my breath and then it got darker and 
Chakotay put his arm around me and it was like walking 
through gelatin, slow and difficult, but he didn't let go of me 
and I became aware of a firm surface under me and knew I 
was sitting down and he was there, his hand in mine, his 
arm around my shoulders and it occurred to me that Harry 
was gone, back to his own Tom, which was a good thing, 
but he'd left me alone, which wasn't, and it was cold and I 
was shaking and Chakotay pulled one of the blankets off the
floor and draped it over my shoulders and rocked me gently 
and Harry was gone . . . The Harry who loved me was gone.

I think I must have said it about ten times and Chakotay just 
kept agreeing with me and hushing me and I felt awful, just 
awful.

"It . . . *hurts*," I stammered, groggy and quivering and 
freezing and he wouldn't let go of me. Chakotay wouldn't let 
go.  "It isn't supposed to *hurt*."

"It'll get better," he whispered into my hair as he rubbed my 
back.

"But he's *gone*," I wailed quietly.  "It's like he died all over 
again.  The one who loved me is *gone*."

"Wrong," Chakotay said firmly and took my face in his hands 
and then I couldn't move. "The one who loves you came 
after you and brought you back with him." 

"Did I get stuck?" I asked in confusion, because it was 
fading like a dream and I couldn't hang onto anything, any 
part of it.

"You got stuck," he encouraged.  "Do you remember why?"

"He said he wished I could stay and then I didn't want to go, 
anymore," I burrowed into his shoulder, feeling dead tired 
again.

"Who, Harry?"

"No," I mumbled into his neck, so warm there.  "Chakotay."

"He said that?" Chakotay asked me, so solid and real and 
warm and I nodded slowly.

"He was alone," I sighed and yawned.

"I would have been alone if you had stayed with him," 
Chakotay told me, his voice rough as his arms came around 
me and chased the lingering chill from my soul.

"Hmm.  I didn't think of that," I admitted, having a hell of a 
time keeping my eyes open.

"Think of it next time," Chakotay said insistently.  

"I will.  You came after me," I finally remembered him 
saying.

"Yes."

"You brought me back."

"Yes."

"Saved my life?"

"Yes."

"Then, I guess we're even.  I like even."

Chakotay chuckled softly.  "I like even, too."

"So tired," I mumbled again, nothing cooperating at all to 
keep me awake.

"Sleep, then," he said.  "I'll be here." 

So, I slept.


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


When I woke up, things were clear as crystal again and I 
was cocooned, wrapped in a blanket inside Chakotay's 
arms.  I wasn't going anywhere.  It wasn't bad, actually.

"You okay?" his voice came, cautious, but concerned.

"A little out of whack, but, yeah, better.  I think," I muttered, 
taking stock.  "What did I miss?" 

He chuckled.  "Nothing."

"Tom came back for Harry," I told him, the memory returning 
like a dream the morning after, and turned inside his arms to 
look at him. He nodded, waiting.  Waiting for the rest of it to 
hit me.  Which it did.  "And you came back for me," I said, 
amazed, completely, *utterly* amazed.

"Yes."

Then, nothing.

"A man of few words, aren't you, Commander?" I groused, 
playfully, feeling slightly buzzed, still.  This man had walked 
through the valley of the shadow of death for me.  For *me*.

"You said you loved me," I prodded him a bit.  "You told the 
other Chakotay I belonged with you.  *To* you?" I asked, 
wondering if things were truly even.

"*With* me," he assured me and smiled a little.

I smiled back.  We seemed to have reached either an 
understanding or an impasse, I wasn't really sure which. 
"Damn, I'm hungry."

"What would you like?" Chakotay was making the offer, but 
that was just . . . it was a bit too close, right now.  A little too 
soon.

"I want to go to the mess hall.  I need living, breathing 
people around me, just to convince myself that I'm still 
here," I told him on a heavy sigh.  

"Then, let's go," he stood and stretched, giving me a hand 
out of the blanket and helping me to my feet.

I was wobbly, seriously so, but things got better the more I 
moved, although I was still holding onto him. He took it 
without complaint, putting his arm around my waist and 
steering me down the corridor.

We were back in the mess hall in no time and I groaned 
inwardly when I saw Dalby in the back of the room. 
Chakotay helped me to a chair at the closest empty table 
and Harry and B'Elanna came over to keep me company.  

Or, rather, Harry came over and B'Elanna came to act as 
guard dog.  That might sound mean, but she was snapping 
at my ass with the first words out of her mouth.

"So, what's next for you two?" she barked.  And, yes, I do 
mean *barked*.

Harry just looked bewildered and things started happening 
too quickly again.  Dalby's voice, a chair sliding back, Harry 
protesting that he loved B'Elanna and wasn't planning on 
anything else, me jumping in, telling them I wished them 
both nothing but the best, that I had no designs on Harry,
Dalby there, saying that that was only true until the lights 
went out and his hand came toward me, gods, he's *such* a 
slow learner, but he was stopped again and the roar in my 
ears deadened abruptly.  The restraining hand on his arm 
was Chakotay's.

"You so much as lay a finger on him, Dalby, and *I'll* be 
throwing you into the wall.  You got that, Mister?"  

Low and menacing and Dalby backed off instantly and 
headed out the door with a hard look tossed my way.  And 
Chakotay stepped in front of me to keep it from reaching 
me. Can you believe it?  I just looked up at him, stunned.

B'Elanna opened her mouth, but a look from her former 
Captain made her shut it, right then and there.  "Harry is 
yours, you deal with it, Torres," he ground out.  "If he wants 
Tom, he'll have to go through me to get him. Is that clear?" 
Both of them answered with immediate 'Yes, Sir's, and 
Harry was grinning that grin that I can't help grinning back at. 
Apparently, Chakotay couldn't either and his face softened 
noticeably as he glanced from Harry to me and sighed, 
wearily.

"You two are exhausting, you know that?" he asked, looking 
from me to Harry and back again before his eyes lit on 
B'Elanna for support and understanding.

She grinned, a little unsure, but it was there, and of course 
she agreed with him. "Yes, they are," she growled, glaring 
fondly at both of us.

"But, we're worth it," I said with calculated ingenuousness 
and Harry blinked innocently at her and nodded.  Only Harry 
can still pull off innocent, after all this time.

B'Elanna snorted, Chakotay started laughing and Har and I 
looked at each other and winked before joining in.  His hand 
found B'Elanna's, Chakotay's was resting on my shoulder 
and all was right with our world.

Hopefully, all was right with *their* world, too, I thought, 
wondering about the others.  Wherever they were.


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