**************************************************** Disclaimer time once again!   Sixty-ninth 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 will eventually involve 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.  :) Seventeenth story in the Stage Direction series.  Sequel to 'Ssst', 'Growl', 'Chuckle', 'Sob', 'Grin', 'Sigh', 'Smile', 'Yawn', 'Whisper', 'Groan', 'Hover', 'Waffle', 'Comfort', 'Fidget', and 'Grimace'. 'Glare' by Amirin **************************************************** I could kick myself for not realizing how tired Tom was.  I should've.  I was supposed to be keeping an eye on him and I failed. I failed *him*. Miserably.  Oh, I should've known. He's back in Sickbay again and it's all my fault.  I know it is, despite his protestations to the contrary.  I feel just awful about it.  How could I have been so blind?  *How*? "Neelix, please.  Stop it.  It's *not* your fault. Really." "Neelix, the Lieutenant is correct.  You are not responsible for the fact that he hasn't eaten in the last . . ." ". . . twenty-six hours."  "I wasn't hungry."  "It doesn't matter. You may not feel hungry for the next few *days*, Lieutenant.  Do you really expect me to believe you don't intend to eat until *then*?"  "I'll set an alarm or something, all right?" "Actually, no, it's . . ." "I'll see to it that he eats on schedule, Doctor.  If I have to spoon-feed him myself, I'll see to it."    "Neelix, really, you don't have to.  I'll come up with something . . ."  "*Hush*!"  "That would be quite satisfactory, Neelix.  Thank you.  If you'll just make sure that . . ." "May I take him back to his quarters, now, Doctor?"  "Um, yes, certainly.  Of course.  Yes.  That would be fine . . ."    "*Eat* something!"  "You're angry."  "No.  I am *not* angry.  My spots get hot when I'm angry."    "I'll keep that in mind."      "You scared me. Badly. I'm not ashamed to admit it.  *You* *scared* *me*."  "Neelix . . . I'm sorry.  I am."    "I get distracted by things.  And without the physical hunger as a reminder, I . . . just forgot to eat anything."  "It isn't going to happen again.  I will *not* allow it."  "Okay, Neelix.  Whatever you say . . ."   "Don't humor me, Tom.  I . . . *strongly dislike* being humored.  It's quite insulting, if you want to know the truth."    "You're right.  It is.  And I won't do it again. Promise.  All right?"      "All right." "Um, Neelix?  Who's minding the kitchen?"  "I commed Chakotay while you were unconscious. He said he'd take care of it."  "*Personally*?  Damn, I'd pay good rations to see that."  "Well, I doubt if he meant *personally*."  "Ah, the many and varied joys of delegation." "There's something to be said for doing it yourself, though. A certain kind of . . . satisfaction."  "Trrrrue."    "Sooo, I take it to mean that you aren't going to be delegating your newfound 'caregiver' status away, then, huh?"  "I most certainly am *not*.  This is something I intend to see to *personally*."  "*Personally*?"    "*Personally*." ***********************end