Disclaimer time once again! Twenty-sixth 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 does *not* involve sex between two men, yet.  But, again, it will, later.  If that is *not* your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then don't read it!  (simple, ain't it??)  Feedback is *very* much appreciated, and always answered.  Flames will be passed around to friends and chuckled over.  :) This is the sequel to 'Adversaries', 'Allies', 'Acknowledgement', 'Argument', and 'Advantage'. 'Attrition' by Amirin **************************************************** Chakotay stared after Tom's retreating form with confusion furrowing his brow.  He let the man go, finally, only after insisting that they talk later.  He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened the night before. Tom had come in while he was asleep on the couch and gone to bed without waking him, which was unusual, but maybe his lover simply hadn't wanted to disturb him. He'd been responsive enough when Chakotay had gotten into bed with him and initiated some long-overdue lovemaking.  But his reaction afterward had been nothing short of stunned. Chakotay had worried that perhaps Tom had felt it had been non-consensual, but the man had emphatically denied that that was the problem.  Something, however, most assuredly was.   Chakotay looked around the room, thinking he could all but see the warp-trail Tom had left in his rush to leave this morning.  He thought that maybe he should have made Tom talk about it the night before, but the man had begged off, citing exhaustion, and promised they'd get into it later. Chakotay sighed, not really knowing what to do since he had the day off, when the doorchime sounded.  B'Elanna entered at his command, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Chakotay," she began, as hesitantly as he had ever seen her, "I need to talk to you about something . . ."                      <<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>> Tom tried to force himself to quit chewing his upper lip, a nervous habit he'd never bothered to outgrow.  He really didn't want to provide Harry with any signals that something was wrong this morning.   he thought, snorting, noticing he was gnawing his lip again, as if he could still taste Harry there.  He groaned, looking at the floor, trying to distract himself from the turn his thoughts had taken, and succeeded to the extent that he didn't even notice when the 'lift doors opened until he found his best friend standing right in front of him. He sighed; Harry had all the clues he needed to know something was definitely the matter. Harry had heard the doors open and turned to see Tom standing still as a statue, seemingly unaware of it.  The man hadn't moved until he had walked up to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Tom, what's wrong?" he asked, for the second morning in a row, feeling a sense of deja vu. "Nothing," Tom answered, as he had the morning before, then met Harry's eyes in an amused grin.  "This seems familiar," he quipped, before seeing the intent look on Harry's face, the 'I won't let this rest until you tell me, so quit wasting my time and talk to me, already' look he knew so well. "Aw, Harry," he nearly whined,  "Fuck it all anyway." "What happened?" Harry asked patiently, leading Tom out of the 'lift. "I wouldn't know where to begin to tell you," Tom confessed, looking miserable. The instruments chirped behind Harry, signalling they were ready to get to work, and Harry responded automatically, keeping one eye on Tom the whole time, as he set the equipment off to run another series of tests. "Start at the beginning," Harry suggested, indicating the seat next to him. Tom sat down heavily, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "None of this is your fault, I just want you to know that, okay?" he started, rubbing his face with his hands. Harry thought, as he leaned in closer to hear Tom. "Do you remember my helping you back to your quarters last night?" Tom asked, going on at Harry's nod. "Do you remember stopping me before I left, telling me you were sorry you hadn't let me kiss you here, yesterday?"  The question was almost a whisper. Harry nodded, leaning closer to Tom.  "I remember all of it," he said quietly. "Then you remember my, uh, kissing you . . last night?" Tom asked, once again looking at the floor until a gentle hand on his chin pulled his head back up. "I remember *all* of it," Harry repeated gently, moving his hand away now that Tom was looking at him again. "Chakotay was asleep on my sofa when I got back to my quarters after leaving you.  I didn't have the heart to wake him and I really didn't want to get into it with him again; I just went to bed," Tom said, able to meet Harry's gaze at this point.   "I had a dream," Tom started, as his eyes headed floorward again.  "About us," he went on, not noticing his breathing was speeding up.  Harry noticed. "Us?" Harry prodded gently, wondering if . . hoping that . . oh gods. "I dreamt that we started with that kiss and went a whole hell of a lot further," Tom said with a dry near-laugh.  "Sometime during it, I woke Chakotay, and he joined me, and I was still dreaming about you, and . . he and I had sex," Tom concluded, weakly, jumping back into his narrative before Harry could comment. "I didn't know it was him until he spoke," Tom whispered.  "I woke up and thought I was with you and said something about how we should have done it a long time ago . . " he raised tortured eyes to look at Harry.  "And he said that our schedules hadn't been cooperating lately, and I damned near freaked," Tom admitted, flinging himself out of his chair.  "And, right now, I feel . . . I feel like . . ." Tom gestured helplessly, not quite able to get it out. "How do you feel?" Harry asked, wondering when he had become friend-confessor and therapist to his best friend. he thought with a inward grin. He got out of his seat to follow Tom and rested a hand on his shoulder.  "Tell me," he urged. "I feel like I need to apologize," Tom said quietly. "Do you think Chakotay will understand?" Harry asked, trying to get Tom look at him and not the damned floor. "Not to him, Harry," Tom said in a whisper.  "To you."  He looked up, a near-hysterical snort of laughter forcing its way past his lips.  "I feel like I've been unfaithful . . to *you*." "Oh, Tom," Harry said quietly, simultaneously cringing and rejoicing inside. "I don't know what to do, Harry.  Gods, I am so *fucked* up," Tom railed, getting some comfort from Harry's hand rubbing his back and feeling guilty for enjoying the contact. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered, but Tom whipped around to face him immediately, shaking his head in denial. "No, Harry, no.  None of this is *your* fault," Tom tried to make Harry understand. "All of this is my fault," Harry corrected him wryly.  "I never should have admitted that I loved you, never should have taken advantage of your curiosity . . ." he trailed off when Tom licked his lips and he had to close his eyes, move away or risk pouncing on the man. Tom's next comment halted him in his tracks. "I'm glad you love me," Tom said softly, snaking out a hand to touch Harry's arm.  "And you didn't make me do anything.  I wanted to.  Gods, did I want to.  I couldn't believe how *right* the dream felt, Harry." "It was just a dream, Tom!" Harry protested.  "It doesn't mean you should throw away what you have with Chakotay.  Dammit, I never wanted *that*," he wailed softly, groaning with guilt and remorse.  "What you have with him is wonderful, too wonderful to just throw it all away!" Tom looked at him in amazement, wondering why Harry didn't know how it really was.  Then, he realized he hadn't been able to talk to Harry alone in weeks, without Chakotay barging in on them.  No wonder his best friend didn't know. "He wants me to be with him constantly, Harry, and when I'm not, I get accused of screwing whoever I happen to be with.  His jealousy, his stubborn streak . . Gods, I can't deal with it!" Tom explained, pacing in the small room, knowing he was just getting started. "I need room to breathe and he can't, or won't, give it to me. You've always understood that; you know when I need to be left alone and when I need to talk to someone, whether I *want* to or not.  You know me, he doesn't," Tom admitted, unconsciously comparing the two.   "What he and I have is attraction based on lust.  It may be passion, but I don't think it's love.  I know what love feels like, and it doesn't feel like this, this constantly having to make excuses for spending time with my friends, this needing to reason with him and cajole him into letting me be alone when I *need* to be." "I don't really feel like his lover; I feel like his possession.  And it's not wonderful, Harry.  It really isn't."  Tom ran out of steam, leaving Harry struck by his admission. "We should have just stayed friends.  I think we could have been really good at that, but this relationship stuff just isn't working for us.  He always wants to discuss things, whether I'm ready to or not.  He needs an explanation for everything I do, say, think, and feel. *You* know me better than that.  *You* know that isn't me. You've *always* known," Tom said softly, looking at Harry with an odd expression on his face. "And the more he pulls me to him, the harder I struggle to get the hell away.  That's *not* the way it's supposed to be," Tom concluded, feeling inexplicably relieved when he saw Harry nodding in agreement. "So, what are you going to do?" Harry asked gently, as Tom paced back to his side. "Damned if I know, Har," Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned into Harry's arms.  "Damned if I know."                        <<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>> Chakotay stared silently at the door B'Elanna had just left through.  The same helpless anger that had been running through him for the last twenty minutes now rendered him immobile.   B'Elanna had come to tell him about what had happened the night before, knowing he'd rather hear it from her than overhear it elsewhere.  His reaction was not at all what she'd been expecting.  He wasn't angry at them; he was angry with himself. Apparently, several people had noticed Tom and Harry making their way to Harry's quarters, staggering as though drunk, laughing uncontrollably . . . Spirits.  Chakotay tried to remember the last time Tom had really laughed. He couldn't remember, several days ago, maybe? A couple of weeks? Then, people had seen the two of them entering Harry's quarters.  And Tom reappearing many, many minutes later. Disheveled.  Flushed.  Dazed.  Lips swollen and reddened, by what, Chakotay didn't even want to think about.   He rubbed unsteady hands over his face, tiredly.  Had he driven Tom straight into Harry's arms?  Gods, into his bed?  The night before suddenly replayed for him.  Tom's sleepy voice saying, "We should have done this a long time ago." Who, exactly, had the man thought he was talking to?  Chakotay sighed as he realized the answer was both good news and bad news.  The bad news was that Tom was most likely talking to Harry, which was why he was so shocked when he heard Chakotay's voice reply.  The good news was that that comment meant they hadn't slept together, yet.  'Yet' being the operative word, here. He knew his possessive tendencies drove Tom nuts.  The man had once commented that it was like living with his father all over again, and had wondered when Chakotay was going to give him a curfew.   Chakotay cringed inwardly, remembering the times he'd all but dragged Tom back to one of their quarters, when he'd stayed out late talking to his friends, playing cards or pool, watching those old vids Chakotay didn't see the point in, or sitting quietly in one of the observation lounges, staring at the stars, lost in solitary thought.  He remembered the times he'd asked Tom what the man was thinking, no, more like *demanded* to know what he was thinking. "Damn it," Chakotay muttered, trying to contain his anger at his own stupidity.  Tom was one of the most free-spirited people he knew and he'd tried to shackle the man. No wonder he'd acted like an animal caught in a trap whenever Chakotay had walked into the room, behaving like he owned him. And then the blow-up the morning before.  Had it really been only a day ago? His accusations, his jealousy, his thoughtlessness.  Some small part of his mind tried to remind him that Tom hadn't exactly been helpful, either, but the part of him that was totally caught up in self-flagellation didn't appreciate the distraction.  When was the last time the pilot had been able to spend a few uninterrupted hours with his best friend, without having to worry that his over-possessive lover would come after him, to take him back home? Chakotay groaned, stretching out on the couch.  This wasn't working.  It wasn't good for him, and it sure as hell wasn't doing Tom any good, either. Their relationship had gotten incredibly unhealthy along the way, somehow, without his realizing it. They should have remained friends, just friends. He knew that now.  Since they'd become lovers all of Tom's sense of humor had vanished.  They didn't talk anymore like they had that one memorable, wonderful night.  Their relief that they could enjoy each other's company had gotten tangled up with attraction and they'd ended up in bed together the second night.  Could they go back to the way they had been, before they'd become lovers? Chakotay sighed again.  He hoped so.  He really, really hoped so.  Anything was better than this.                       <<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>> Tom and Harry worked quickly and quietly when their duties demanded it, the rest of the time they spent talking.  They were getting a lot of work done, but both realized it was probably going to take another day to finish everything. Tom sighed.  Chakotay was *not* going to be real happy about that. Harry caught the look on Tom's face. "I can finish this by myself tomorrow, if you don't want to have to deal with it," he offered. Tom smiled at him. "Thanks, but he's just going to have to put up with it for another day." "You sure?  'Cause I can handle it, really," Harry insisted. "Yeah, you just want to have all the fun for yourself.  Doesn't seem hardly fair, Harry," Tom teased, making Harry snort at him, before a real smile brightened his features. "If you change your mind . ." he left it open. "I won't," Tom assured him. "But, thanks."  And the two of them got back to work, trading smiles the rest of the day.                       <<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>> Tom made his way slowly back to his quarters, dreading every step.  Janeway had let him and Harry off the hook for giving their report that night; B'Elanna had something for her to see in Engineering that would keep the two of them busy most of the evening.  He didn't know whether to be grateful or miserable, knowing he had to talk to Chakotay and not really wanting to get into it, yet, at the same time, wanting it to be over and done with. The doors to his quarters swished open and he walked cautiously inside as he saw Chakotay sitting on the couch, waiting for him. Chakotay saw the steps hesitate, saw Tom's arms cross over his chest defensively, saw the way the man didn't get too far from the door and cursed himself to hell and back. "Come here," he requested softly with the utmost gentleness, holding out a hand to Tom.  "We need to talk."                        <<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>> Harry turned around, looking forward to another day working with Tom, when the 'lift doors opened and he saw the pale sadness on his friend's face. Dear gods, now what? "Tom, what's wrong?" he asked, rising to his feet, expecting Tom to answer as he had the last two mornings with an uncertain, and unbelievable, 'Nothing'. "It's over," Tom said quietly, the sorrow in his eyes wrapping around Harry's heart, making it ache for the man. "Chakotay and I broke up." *************************end