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

Disclaimer time once again!  Thirty-third 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.  :)

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

Yep, more of the C/P backstory to Yvette Kendall's 
Tuvok/Kim series, which can be found at 
http://www.crosswinds.net/toronto/~monaram/Yvette/ 
Go read them, they're wonderful!!!  Yes, I mean now!

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

'Perceptive' by Amirin 


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


Tom was proud of himself.  His expression never changed, 
his steps didn't falter. And his eyes never made contact with 
Ciscio's.  Or Hernandez'.  He stared forward as he reached 
the 'lift, a slight, pleasant smile on his face and listened to 
the other Lieutenants hypothesize about how many children 
the Captain and his former lover were likely to have while 
stranded on that damned planet.

"The Captain was a parent to all of us, sort of," Ciscio was 
saying as the lift arrived and they all got on, Tom's eyes 
focused determinedly on the doors after he gave his 
destination.  "I imagine she'd want a lot of kids around."

"The Commander came from a large family," Hernandez 
added.  "One of five, I think he was."

Tom didn't bother to correct him and cursed the damned 
turbolift for moving so slowly.

"*Five*?!?" Ciscio exclaimed.  "Wow, they better get started 
soon," she grinned.

"They've got a lot of time for a family," Hernandez said with a 
slight grin on his face which turned into a frown as he took in 
Tom's strained silence.  "Paris?  You okay?" he asked 
quietly, but the look on Tom's face never wavered.

"Never better," Tom answered briefly as the doors opened 
on his deck and he exited straight ahead, walking casually, 
hearing their murmuring behind him, although he couldn't 
make out the words.  Mercifully, the 'lift doors closed and he 
was able to pick up his pace a little as he finally reached his 
quarters.

He leaned back against the wall upon entering, feeling its 
cool strength even through the fabric of his uniform.  It had 
been weeks since the Captain and Chakotay had been left 
on the planet which was to become their new home. A virus 
which made them unable to survive anywhere else was 
holding them there, together.  Together.  

Tom sighed, pushing away from the wall, and headed for the 
couch.  He looked at it for a moment, then sat on the end 
that Chakotay had all but claimed as his own when he was in 
Tom's quarters.  Paris squirmed, unable to get comfortable, 
and a harshly wry grin touched his face.  He wasn't all that 
surprised it felt wrong; he still couldn't sleep on Chakotay's 
side of the bed, yet, either.  He slid down to the center 
cushion and noticed it felt differently than the first. Lifting up 
the cushion he'd just been sitting on, he saw another of 
Chakotay's shirts beneath it.  So, *this* was where the deep 
burgundy one with the black collar had gotten to.  He hadn't 
packed it for Chakotay, simply because he hadn't been able 
to *find* it.  This made the fourth one he'd discovered in his 
quarters, actually.  It was getting ridiculous, but he was 
beginning to feel like some malicious force in the universe 
was doing this to him on purpose, making him find little bits 
and pieces of his lover, just to slowly drive him mad.  Of 
course, it wasn't like he'd had all of the man, to begin with.

What had started as a relationship of passion and 
convenience had grown into a one-sided love affair.  On his 
side.  His hands twisted the cloth they held, wringing it.  It 
wasn't like he hadn't expected something like this.  He'd 
been happy, deliriously happy, and gods knew the universe 
*hated* for Tom Paris to be happy. So, now he got to live 
with the knowledge that the man he loved was going to 
spend the rest of his life on a planet with the woman *he* 
loved.  He snorted at the thought that it almost seemed fair, 
as his mind drifted back in time, forcing him, yet again, to 
relive the pain, still so fresh, of losing his lover . . .


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


"I don't know how you can keep on doing this," Harry 
muttered, the look on Tom's face a study in anger and hurt. 

The three of them had been playing pool, when the Captain's 
voice had come over the comm, requesting Chakotay's 
presence immediately.  Chakotay, who had just played his 
shot, had been out the door before the ball had dropped in 
the pocket. 

"Why are you letting him do this to you?" Harry asked, 
meeting Tom's glare until it faded into resignation.

"It's the only way I can have him, Har," Tom answered 
quietly, eyes still boring holes into the door Chakotay had 
just exited through.

"You love him, don't you?" Harry asked insistently.

Tom just sighed.  "It doesn't matter what I feel, Harry.  He 
loves the Captain.  He's never lied to me about that.  I knew 
what the score was from day one," he finished with a sad, 
wry grin.

"Why don't you tell him?" Harry queried.  

"It might have worked for you and Tuvok, Har, but it wouldn't 
work for me and Chakotay," Tom said, racking the balls for 
another game.

"So, you're going to continue letting him hurt you like this?" 
Harry demanded incredulously.

"I have less than no choice," Tom answered softly.  "He 
doesn't mean to do it, but the Captain has his heart, not that 
she'd know what to do with it," he said with some bitterness. 
"He cares for me, in his own way, I know that."

"And that's enough?" Harry asked.

Tom shrugged, his gaze focused the green felt. "It has to 
be," he said, as blue eyes came up and drilled right through 
Harry.  "Doesn't it?"

Harry's reply was lost in the obvious delight at Tuvok's 
entrance and Tom waved him off.  "Go on, Har.  You've got 
better things to do than hang out in here," Tom said, his 
nonchalance deliberate in front of the Vulcan.

Harry nodded, reluctant to go and leave his friend like this. 
"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, as Tom shooed him 
toward Tuvok and starting practicing by rote.

Tom threw the cue onto the table as soon as Harry was out 
the door.  He felt an urge to hit something that he'd better get 
out of his system before the Captain let his lover leave for 
the night.  He had a program he hadn't needed to run in 
ages, but he needed it now.  Damn, he thought he was done 
with this.  Apparently not.  His barked command was met 
with silence, until the big bruisers materialized.

"What the hell are *you* looking at?" one of them sneered at 
Tom.

"Nothing of importance," Tom sneered back.  And once 
again, for the first time in months, the fight was on.


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


Chakotay left the Captain's quarters feeling more frustrated 
than usual, but with some satisfaction at the look on 
Kathryn's face when he'd begged off having a drink over the 
crew reports, citing his wish to get done as quickly as 
possible.  She'd seemed puzzled, pensive, even, at his 
unwillingness to linger.  Good.  

The Captain still hadn't made him any offers, not even the 
most subtle variety, but he had hope. He'd caught the frown 
between her eyes on occasion when she'd seen him with 
Tom.  He'd taken extra care to be even more adoring and 
attentive than usual toward his lover, when she was 
watching, and Tom had fallen into it with gleeful ease, 
perfectly willing to help. Spirits, the man was amazing.  

Chakotay was still wearing the grin on his face when he 
keyed in the code for Tom's quarters.

"Still up?" he asked the man lounging comfortably on the 
sofa in nothing but a pair of shorts.

"Waiting for you," Tom said lightly, an odd look on his face.

"You okay?" Chakotay asked, lifting Tom's long legs and 
sliding underneath them, then settling them back over his 
lap.

"Yeah," Tom answered, waving Chakotay's concern aside. 
"Just tired, I guess."  A shaky smile crossed his face as 
Chakotay began caressing his legs, fingertips sliding along 
his thigh, trailing down to the knee, teasing his ankles and 
the bottoms of his bare feet. He sighed inwardly, betting he'd 
have marks covering his body tomorrow.  Nothing that would 
show under the uniform, of course, but would be perfectly 
visible once he'd changed into casual clothing.  Which meant 
that Chakotay had something public and ultimately 
entertaining planned for the following night.  Tom didn't know 
if he was in the mood, right now.  He was still angry, and 
getting angrier.  Chakotay was always like this after talking 
with the Captain and it didn't help Tom's disposition any to 
realize that he was just a convenient outlet for the feelings 
the Captain stirred up in his lover.  What had happened to 
his hard-won acceptance of his situation?  

He'd thought he was over the anger he was feeling, right 
then.  It had been months since he'd been like this and he 
truly thought he had a handle on it.  But, it seemed to have 
reared it ugly head, just to mess with his own. Damn them, 
both.

Chakotay's eyes widened when Tom's strong hands 
encircled his wrists, effectively immobilizing them.  His heart 
sped up slightly as he spied the dangerous glint in his lover's 
eyes.  Tom moved toward him slowly, body uncoiling like a 
snake's as he straddled his lap, pinning his hands to his 
sides with minimal effort.  One knee moved to cover a hand, 
holding it down on sofa cushion, which freed Tom's to undo 
his shirt.  Blue eyes glittered like flame an instant before a 
merciless mouth covered his own, demanding, not 
requesting, immediate surrender and he groaned, trying to 
move but finding it impossible.  His arousal flared at his 
body's helplessness, hardening cock twitching against Tom's 
abdomen.  Biting teeth moved along his jaw to his ear and 
he shivered as warm air passed over it, preceding the hot 
words that completely incinerated him.  "You like this," Tom's 
too-soft voice mocked him as he struggled futilely.

"Damn, you're perceptive," he muttered as a hand tangled in 
his hair, pulling his head back sharply, forcing his eyes on 
the ceiling.  He hissed as fingernails scored his chest, his 
nipples, then headed downward to tug his shirt out of the 
pants he wore, slipping it off his shoulders to trap his wrists.

Tom let go of the wrist he still held and knelt on the fabric. 
He'd always loved the deep, rich burgundy shirt with the 
black collar.  The cuffs had to be undone to get it off.  With 
his weight keeping the Commander immobile, the man 
couldn't free himself from the shirt imprisoning his arms. 
Perfect.  He undid the front of Chakotay's slacks and grinned 
malevolently when the man moaned.  His chuckle made his 
lover freeze.  "You think you know what's coming, don't 
you?" Tom tormented him with dangerous softness, both in 
his voice, and in the hand wrapping around his erection. 
"You've got no idea, Lover," the pilot ground out as he 
nipped Chakotay's neck.  "None at all."

Chakotay groaned, then gasped at a tug on his aching cock.

"Raise up," Tom snarled at him, lifting up his own body while 
keeping a firm grasp on his lover's hardness.  The move 
forced Chakotay to plant his feet on the floor and raise his 
hips off the couch.  His pants were gone in an instant, 
puddled down around his ankles and Tom took advantage of 
his lover's distraction to wriggle his shorts off.  Both naked 
where it counted, Tom began ravishing every part of 
Chakotay he could reach, while still keeping a rhythmic 
pressure on the heavy cock in his hand, as he felt around 
under the cushion next to him for the lube, leaving the 
cushion standing on end.  Finding the small tube, he 
squeezed a large amount onto Chakotay and sped up his 
hand, chuckling as his lover's body arched up helplessly 
beneath him.  Chakotay's eyes came open at Tom's 
triumphant laughter and an odd squirm on his lap brought his 
head down to see Tom's fingers inside himself, stretching 
himself for what was to come.  His head dropped back 
against the sofa with a harsh groan.

"I think he's got it," Tom said, husky approval layering his 
voice.

"Not yet, he doesn't," Chakotay forced the words out from 
between clenched teeth.

"He will," Tom's softly spoken promise tormented, as he 
raised himself upward, positioned Chakotay's rigid length 
carefully, then let himself slowly sink all the way down, letting 
gravity do the work, as his willing body accepted inch after 
inch of his lover.  

Chakotay gasped out loud, trying to move, finding himself 
still trapped, thrashing under Tom, who lifted himself up with 
the same excruciating slowness, before sinking back down 
again.

"More," Chakotay groaned out, frustrated movements 
ineffective with Tom pinning him to the sofa.

"You're in no position to be making demands, Lover," Tom 
laughed roughly, bringing his body up again.  This time he 
decided to let gravity have a little help and came down hard 
and fast enough to make Chakotay cry out.

"Ohh, that sounds better," Tom crooned softly, lifting up to do 
it again.  He caught Chakotay's yell in his mouth, the lips 
under his yielding immediately as his tongue invaded, doing 
battle with his lover's, before he tore his mouth away and 
leaned back to see Chakotay's eyes looking positively 
glazed.

"Nice," he murmured, bringing up a hand to caress his own 
chest, playing with himself, grinning harshly when Chakotay 
glared at him, panting open-mouthed when Tom licked his 
fingers and brushed them over his nipples.

"Let me," Chakotay pleaded, trying to move forward to kiss, 
lick, hell *anything*.  Tom wouldn't budge.

"No," the pilot said softly, eyes hooded and half-closed as he 
continued to fuck himself on Chakotay's cock.

"Please," Chakotay begged, his voice strained as Tom's 
hand wrapped around his own hardness, stroking himself, 
tantalizing the Commander.

"No," Tom moaned, moving faster as he rode his lover, 
faster as he gripped himself, harder and rougher, head back, 
back arched.  "Oh, gods, *yes*," he cried out, feeling 
Chakotay's almost desperate movements to try and get to 
him. 

"Damn you!" Chakotay roared, feeling himself unable to hold 
his body back, keep it from responding to Tom.  He couldn't 
do a damned thing but watch as Tom used him, taking his 
pleasure from him even as he took his own.

"Too late," Tom murmured harshly.  "Much too late," and with 
that, he thrust himself down on Chakotay with an almost 
brutal movement, then again, and again, and finally came, 
crying out to gods he didn't think were really listening, 
anyway.

Chakotay felt the heat Tom was throwing off, watched his 
long, beautiful body tense and seize and felt himself being 
spattered, burned, as Tom came, his voice loud and clear 
and victorious.  His own body couldn't help but react and he 
bucked upward, catching the heated tightening of his lover 
before he joined him, his voice erupting as he did, in a 
strained, anguished shout.

Tom fell forward, breathing heavily, before pulling himself 
back together and moving backward, hearing Chakotay's 
groan as he did so.

"You okay?" he asked coolly, for once not caring what the 
answer was.  He wasn't angry any longer; it had changed 
into something a lot more volatile.

Chakotay nodded, head leaning back against the couch, 
getting his breathing and heartrate back into normal zones. 
He felt a chill as Tom moved off of him, hissing slightly as 
they parted.  "Are you?" he asked, worriedly, seeing Tom's 
face cringe as he bent down to scoop his shorts up off the 
floor then headed to the bathroom.

"I'm always okay, Commander," came Tom's cold voice, right 
before the door slid shut.

Chakotay sat there, stunned, for a moment, before twisting 
the shirt around enough to unfasten the cuffs and take the 
damned thing off.  He tossed it next to him, then slowly stood 
up, grimacing at the mess all over him, and followed to join 
Tom in the shower he could hear running and didn't notice 
when the sofa cushion fell back down, completely concealing 
his shirt.

Tom stood under water much hotter than he could usually 
stand it and let it pour over him. What the fuck had he just 
done?  He started as part of his mind responded that he'd 
just used Chakotay as his lover had been using him. The 
door opening barely registered until warm hands wrapped 
around his waist.

"Hotter than hell," Chakotay murmured against Tom's neck.

"I'll turn it down," Tom offered distantly, reaching a hand for 
the control.

"Not the water, Tom," Chakotay said quietly, making his 
lover shiver.  "You."  He relaxed his hold to let Tom turn 
within his arms and kissed him. "That was unbelievable," he 
whispered.

"You liked it," Tom said, uncertainty coloring his voice. 
Chakotay didn't like the color.

"There you go, being perceptive again," he commented 
lightly, capturing Tom's mouth under his, before he let him 
go, frowning at the tension in his lover's body.  "Loved it," he 
said with emphasis, caressing Tom's cheek.

"I didn't know if . ." Tom trailed off, not able to finish the 
thought.

"If I hadn't enjoyed it, I would have told you to stop," the 
Commander reasoned, rubbing Tom's back.

"I don't know if I could have," Tom admitted quietly.

"You would have," Chakotay said positively.  "You would 
have, if I had wanted, needed you to."  He smiled as the last 
of the stiffness left Tom's body, finally, on a soft, contented, 
and relieved sigh.  

He couldn't believe they hadn't done this before.  Damn, *no* 
lover had ever done that to him before.  It had been one of 
the most erotic experiences he'd ever had. Part of his mind 
tried to conjure up the vision of Kathryn doing that and he 
was forced to concede it wouldn't have been nearly as 
satisfying with her. What was wrong with him? Why was he 
no longer anticipating his getting together with the Captain 
as much any more? What had Tom done to him? And why 
did part of him insist on rejoicing at it?  

He sighed, pulling away from Tom long enough to kiss him 
again.  Slowly, softly, with tender passion.  Wonderful. 
Exciting.  Creative.  He smiled as the gaze of a man soaked 
as much with pleasure as water, met his.

"Bed," he said softly, running his hands down the body he 
knew as well as his own.

Tom nodded, throat closing up at the sweetness in 
Chakotay's eyes.  "Bed," he said raggedly, letting his lover 
steer them out of the bathroom and dry him off quickly, 
before settling him under the covers and joining him. He felt 
arms wrapped around him, lips nuzzling his neck and 
shoulders and had never felt so loved in his life.  Not too 
bad, considering the man behind him was in love with 
someone else.  He closed his eyes, letting tiredness sneak 
up on, and overcome, the doubts and guilt and anger and 
hurt. Sleep surrounded him and his surrender was swift and 
unconditional.

It was the last night he had been with Chakotay.


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


"Looks like you got your desert island after all, you son of a 
bitch," Tom murmured, sitting there on the sofa, looking 
down at the shirt Chakotay had been wearing that night, 
weeks ago.  He knew he should probably go find Harry, but 
he felt tears coming on again and didn't want to bawl his 
eyes out in front of his best friend. He didn't know which of 
them it was worse for. Him, knowing Chakotay was on a 
paradise planet for the rest of his life with the woman he 
loved, or Harry, having to see Tuvok every damned day and 
ignore the fact that they'd ever been together.  Gods, what a 
mess. He groaned at his commbadge, betting it was Harry.

"Paris, here," he said with heavy resignation.

"It's Torres.  You'd better get down to Sandrine's quick or 
Harry'll be spending the night in the brig."

Tom was off the sofa and out the door a second later.

Coming into Sandrine's at a jog, he saw Harry immediately 
and took in the flushed face and hazy eyes in a heartbeat. 
The perfect Ensign was perfectly drunk.  Tom sighed, 
moving around to the bar, where Harry was seemingly intent 
on provoking Tuvok.  Not the smartest move he could make, 
that was for damned sure.

"Hey, there," he said lightly, as Harry spun around too fast, 
overbalancing himself.  Tom caught him instantly, putting 
him back on his feet as he maneuvered himself in between 
Tuvok and his best friend.  He looked up right into the 
frowning and admittedly concerned gaze of the Vulcan who 
was currently Voyager's Captain.  That cold exterior didn't 
fool him, not anymore.  He knew better, courtesy of Harry.  
But, it was time to act like he'd never believed it.

"Harry, I want you to listen to me," Tom said softly, pinning 
Harry against the bar, an arm on either side of him. Tuvok 
moved away, but Tom was feeling lousy enough that he 
wanted the Vulcan to hear this, too.  "Don't give that 
cold-hearted bastard the satisfaction, Har.  He doesn't feel a 
damned thing," he grabbed Harry when the Ensign started 
struggling to get away from him.

"Every Vulcan comes with an off-switch, my friend," he said 
slowly, ignoring how he was being sandwiched between 
Tuvok's burning gaze from his left, and Harry's devastated 
look just to his right.  "He couldn't care less.  If you were 
naked and on your knees in front of him, he'd just step over 
you and keep right on going.  Believe it, Harry.  He got what 
he wanted and now it's over and there's nothing you can do 
about it," Tom said calmly, helpless rage tearing him up 
inside.  For *both* of them.  "Now come on, let's get you out 
of here." 

Tom steered Harry out of the bar, hoping his friend could 
keep it together just a little while longer.  He really *didn't* 
want Tuvok to have to see it.  He knew how hard it was on 
the Vulcan, having to do without Harry.  All three of them 
were hurting, he knew that.  But, this way, it was better for 
Harry, leaving angry, dry-eyed, and with his pride intact.

Harry, meanwhile, was concentrating on remaining upright. 
He knew a lot of what Tom said even *he* didn't really 
believe, but it gave him an out.  Anger rose up inside, 
choking him again.  Nothing could be done about it.  Not a 
damned thing.  

He barely noticed when they arrived at his quarters, Tom 
putting him to bed like a tired child.  He didn't care.  His hand 
caught Tom's when his friend started to turn away.

"You didn't mean it," he said, drink and hurt and exhaustion 
slurring his words.

"No, Har," Tom sighed.  He couldn't lie to the man. "I didn't 
mean it."

"He loved me," Harry said, voice choked.

"I know, Harry.  I know."

"Do you think he believed it?" Harry asked shakily.

Tom sighed, running a hand over his face.  "I dunno. 
Maybe," he allowed.

"Anger feels better than pain, doesn't it?" Harry asked, 
seeing how Tom really looked under the armor and shields. 
Tired, drawn, pale.

"Some," Tom acknowledged.  "Anger, you can take out on 
other things.  Pain, you only take out on yourself."

Harry nodded.  "Thanks."

"Anytime," Tom said, smiling tiredly.

"Would you stay?" Harry queried hesitantly.

"It would blow your rep to hell, Harry," Tom teased, making 
the effort.  It worked.  

Harry gave him a tremulous grin.  "Good."

Tom grabbed the blanket off the end of the bed and swiped 
the pillow next to the one Harry had under his head.  He 
wondered if it was the one Tuvok had used as he ruffled 
Harry's hair, like he was a favorite younger brother, and 
headed for the couch in the other room.

"Good-night, Tom," Harry called out sleepily.

"'Night, Har," Tom answered back, getting comfortable, 
before closing his eyes to block out the images of him and 
Chakotay, together, on a sofa much like this one.  It didn't 
help and the memories flooding his mind also followed him 
into his dreams, taunting and teasing him with what he could 
never have again.


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


Chakotay couldn't help the smile of relief when he found 
himself beamed back aboard Voyager.  There were the 
usual things to take care of and he got the Doctor's clean bill 
of health right after he was done with the Captain.  The 
Captain.  What a disaster that had been.

He'd thought it was the perfect opportunity for them to finally 
come together, yet, again, it was as Tom said, or so it 
seemed.  Once she had him, she didn't want him. It was 
looking to be an awfully long stay on the prison-planet, until 
Voyager had signaled and he couldn't deny the relief he felt 
at that, either.  Tom.  That one man, that one face, body, 
smile, laugh, frown, scream, gods, all of it, *oh* how he had 
missed him. Dreamt about him, fantasized about him. It 
occurred to him while he was stuck on that planet that he 
and the Captain weren't going to happen. Not a chance of 
anything working that way, not any more. He'd tried, but the 
effort was half-hearted, at best.  And Kathryn, bless her, 
seemed to know that.  They'd both talked about Tom and 
she realized how Chakotay felt before he did, apparently. 
One of the many reasons why *she* was the Captain.

He sighed and headed out of sickbay, intent on finding Tom.


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


Tom had been in his quarters since before Chakotay and the 
Captain had returned.  He couldn't *force* himself to go to 
the transporter room and see them.  Didn't want to have to 
face that, not yet.  Plenty of time for them to rub his face in 
the fact that they were together, a couple, now.  He was 
sprawled on the sofa, arm over his eyes, when the 
doorchime sounded.  Harry?

"Come," he called out, not moving his arm.  A weight settled 
next to his hip on the couch and he was waiting for Harry to 
speak when a gentle hand came to rest on his chest.  His 
arm was removed rapidly and he found himself being kissed 
to within an inch of his life by his former lover, who certainly 
wasn't acting the way a *former* lover should act.  He 
groaned and felt Chakotay's smile against his lips.

"I've missed that sound," Chakotay whispered, running his 
hands all over Tom's body.  Damn, he'd lost weight.  The 
Commander looked closer and saw the shadows, months 
old, under Tom's eyes, the way his clothes hung on him, the 
misery and anger and . . . Spirits, was that *fear* in his eyes?

"What have you been *doing* to yourself?" he asked, voice 
quietly upset.

"Nothing much," Tom said off-handedly, sitting up.  He 
couldn't meet Chakotay's searching gaze and kept his eyes 
on his hands as he shifted until he was backed against the 
corner of the couch.

Chakotay reached out a hand to caress Tom's face, but the 
man bolted off the sofa like it was on fire and headed to the 
replicator.

Tom really could've used a stiff drink but didn't want the 
lecture chaser that would have come with it, so he settled for 
water and refused to look at Chakotay.

The Commander didn't know what the hell to think.  Gods, 
he'd been gone for three months, why wasn't Tom all over 
him? He stilled, falling weakly backwards as the most likely 
reason came to him.  "Who is it?" Chakotay asked, his voice 
filled with sorrow.

"Who the fuck is who?" Tom shot back, not knowing what the 
man was talking about.

"Who are you with, now?" Chakotay asked him softly. 
"Who's been sharing your life since I left?"

Tom didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream and felt an 
odd urge to do all three at once, just to see the look on the 
other man's face.

"There hasn't been *anyone* else for *me*," he said, 
accusation carrying clearly on his voice.

"You're alone?" Chakotay asked cautiously, watching the 
sharp, nasty smile slice across Tom's beautiful face. 

"More so than ever, now," Tom said, eyes like glaciers.  He 
cleared his throat and grinned coldly at Chakotay.  "How's 
the Captain?"

Light dawned on Chakotay's face and he rose quickly, 
coming to stand by Tom.  "She's fine. And I'm fine. But we're 
not together," he said rapidly, seeking out Tom's disbelieving 
blue eyes.

"You have *got* to be kidding me!" he cried out, dragging his 
hands through his hair as he stalked around the small room. 
"Three fucking months on Planet Perfect and you didn't 
become lovers?"

"No," Chakotay said quietly, trying to calm Tom down. 
"Nothing happened," he said, frowning.

Tom caught the frown and sighed inwardly.  "But you tried, 
didn't you?" he asked wearily, heading back to the sofa and 
throwing himself on it.

Chakotay exhaled patiently.  "I had to try," he said softly. 
"There's no chance of anything happening between us.  It 
would've if it was going to.  It didn't."

Tom tried to breathe around the knife in his chest.  Well, now 
he knew why Chakotay was here. He wouldn't have believed 
the Commander was the sort of man who would settle for 
anything, but here he was, proving him wrong.  Settling for 
Tom, because he couldn't have his precious Captain.  And 
Tom loved the bastard so much he was going to let him. 
Damn him.  "I'm sorry," he said, but more for himself than 
Chakotay.

Chakotay shrugged it aside.  "I've missed you so much, 
Tom," he said quietly, reaching a hand out to the man who, 
even though he sat right next to him, seemed lightyears 
away.

Tom snorted to keep the tears at bay.  "I missed you, too," 
he choked out and found Chakotay's arms around him like 
they belonged there, had always been there, would always 
be there.  What a load of shit.  He knew better and wondered 
how much time he had before Chakotay knew it, too.  Or the 
Captain changed her mind.  Which was still possible.  Damn 
her.  Warm lips tasting faintly of his own tears kissed his, 
caressed his, stroked and teased his. Gods, what a mouth. 
He sighed into Chakotay and felt the answering sigh fill him, 
go through him, warm him. Tom tried to convince himself it 
was enough and part of him believed it.  For now.  <Tom, 
you are a sorry son of a bitch> he thought, damning himself 
as well.  The more, the merrier.  Damn all three of them, 
then.


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


It disturbed Chakotay how little he actually saw Tom these 
days.  The pilot still didn't seem to be all right and he was at 
a loss as to what to do about it.  He was trying to pick up 
their relationship and go forward, but Tom, the man who 
couldn't handle sublight speeds, wasn't moving. Everytime 
Chakotay tried to talk about them, their future, Tom found a 
reason to leave and did so, post haste. It was driving him 
nuts.  Even the sex had lost what it had. Tom barely seemed 
to be there, like he was just going through the motions, and 
Chakotay didn't know *why*.  The pilot was still haggard, the 
weight wasn't coming back on, the shadows still haunted his 
eyes and he never smiled.  He barely even *spoke* and was 
particularly silent on the bridge.  To the extent that even the 
Captain noticed and commented on it to Chakotay.

Tom had become the topic of most of their frequent talks 
together.  The Captain had offered advice, and sympathy, 
and a compassionate ear, but nothing seemed to help 
matters any.  Tom just grew more silent and distant.  And 
Chakotay didn't know what to do . . .


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


Things were getting back to normal as much as they could, 
for Tom.  He was spending more time with Harry, now, than 
he was with Chakotay.  Not that it mattered, his lover was 
spending more time with the Captain than he was with Tom. 
Chakotay seemed to need nothing more than a bedmate, 
these days.  But, Harry needed *Tom*.

The Ensign seemed so lost without Tuvok and the pilot didn't 
know how to help. And he wanted to, he thought, with a sad 
smile.  Anything was better than seeing Harry turn all hard 
and cynical and jaded.  Anything was better than watching 
him turn into another Tom Paris.

Tom sighed as the doorchime sounded, knowing it couldn't 
be Chakotay; he was still on duty.  He was stunned into 
stillness as the Chief of Security walked hesitantly into his 
quarters.  Hesitantly??  *Tuvok*??

"What's up, Tuvok?" Tom asked casually, as the Vulcan 
walked toward the couch he was sitting on and paused.

"I find myself at something of a loss, Lieutenant.  And I 
require your assistance," the Vulcan intoned somberly.

"What have you lost?" Tom asked, frowning, motioning for 
Tuvok to have a seat.

"Harry," Tuvok said quietly, looking at his hands before 
raising unhappy eyes to the pilot.  "I have asked the Captain 
for advice and I believe circumstances are worse now, than 
they were before."

"Asked for advice on what?" Tom questioned him 
suspiciously.

"How to convince Harry to reestablish our former 
relationship," the Vulcan said softly.

"And you're here because what she told you didn't work," 
Tom guessed.

"Precisely," Tuvok informed him. 

"Okay, tell me *exactly* what you did . ."

The pilot found himself growing more dismayed by the 
moment. *Vulcan* poetry?  *Vulcan* music? To romance a 
*human*?  What the hell had Janeway been thinking, for 
crying out loud?  Was that the best she could do?

Tom was dumbfounded.  Totally.

"So, let me get this straight, Tuvok.  Your big seduction 
scene with Harry didn't work and you can't figure out *why*?" 
Tom asked incredulously.

"That is correct," Tuvok intoned in a manner that indicated 
he was not pleased with Tom's tone of voice.  Too damned 
bad.

Tom had to go over it again, just to make sure he hadn't 
gotten anything wrong.  He hadn't.  He sighed.  "Tuvok, it's 
pretty clear to me why this didn't work."

Tom started at the beginning and went over it piece by piece, 
knowing by Tuvok's grim silence that his explanations were 
hitting home.  The dawning light on the Vulcan's face was 
truly a sight to behold.  Tom held up a hand when Tuvok 
proceeded to question him as to what he could do, to 
convince Harry.

"Convince *me*, first," Tom said quietly.  "Why do you want 
Harry back, Tuvok?" he asked, leaning back and getting 
comfortable.  "Is it the logical thing to do?"

"I . . find myself wanting to see him more than I am," Tuvok 
began, noting that, for some odd reason, this was easier to 
talk about with the pilot than it had been with the Captain.  "I 
anticipate the occasions I have to speak with him. I find that I 
am . . unable to return to the activities I involved myself with 
before I became involved with him." 

"You miss him," Tom said succinctly, then paused, taking a 
deep breath.  "Do you love him?" 

"I find that my attention . ." Tuvok tried to explain, but was 
interrupted rather ruthlessly by the Lieutenant.

"Do you *love* him, Tuvok?" Tom said harshly.  "Because I 
know he still loves you.  And I'm damned if I'm going to help 
you with *anything* if it'll condemn him to a relationship 
where all the love is on one goddamned side!" Tom spat out. 
 "Gods know there's enough of *that* going around on this 
ship!" the pilot seemed to make a visible effort to get his own 
emotions back under control and Tuvok found himself almost 
wishing he could help with the effort.

"Do you want him?" Tom asked, tears in his eyes.  "Do you 
need him? Do you want to spend every moment, waking and 
sleeping, with him? Do you find everything under the sun 
reminding you of him? *Do* *you* *love* *him*?"

"Yes," the Vulcan said simply.  Tom wasn't satisfied.

"I need to hear it, Tuvok.  Because *Harry* will need to hear 
it," Tom said sadly.

"I find that conveying emotions through the mind-link is more 
. . intimate than speaking the words out loud.  And more 
convincing," Tuvok said quietly.

"I envy you that," Tom said distantly.  "How you can see into 
his mind and know, beyond any doubt, what he's feeling.  If 
you can give me your word that he'll never have cause to 
doubt your feelings, I will help you."

"You have it," Tuvok stated simply, finding himself oddly 
relieved when the Lieutenant nodded.

Tom told Tuvok what Harry would expect and, more 
importantly, what he *deserved*.  He was gratified when he 
saw Tuvok nod thoughtfully as he offered his *own* ideas 
about how to romance a human man.  The thoughtful 
planning that needed to go into it, how everything should be 
chosen to delight and arouse the senses.  What Harry would 
want and need and prefer. 

Tuvok remained silent for many moments after Tom finished 
speaking.  He nodded and his eyes met Tom's as he started 
to rise.  He paused, remaining seated for the moment.  "I 
owe you a great debt," Tuvok said quietly.  

"Consider us even for proving me innocent of murder, then," 
Tom said tiredly, running a hand over his face.

Tuvok shook his head.  "This far exceeds that one act, 
Lieutenant.  I will not forget this."

Tom was still staring bemusedly at the door long after Tuvok 
had left when Chakotay entered and frowned at him. Gods, 
not another lecture.

"Are you okay?" Chakotay asked quietly, coming to sit down 
next to Tom, who brushed his concern aside with his hand.

"Fine," Tom said shortly, unable to keep the snap out of his 
voice.

"No, you're not," the Commander said, moving closer to his 
lover.

"I'm really not in the mood, so don't think you need to do 
anything to make me feel better," Tom said, fatigue coloring 
his words as his head fell back onto the sofa.

"Then, just let me hold you," Chakotay offered, standing and 
moving Tom's unresisting body until he was stretched out flat 
on the couch.  

Tom noticed that the man didn't bother removing his uniform. 
He didn't even take the boots off before lying next to him. 
Three guesses what *that* means, Tommy-boy, and the first 
two don't count.

A scant few minutes later, it came to be.  Janeway's voice 
sounded in the quiet and Tom couldn't take it anymore.  He 
felt tears on the way and was out the door like a shot, 
needing to get as far away from Chakotay as possible.  

He headed to the observation lounge, which was totally 
deserted at this hour, curled up on the bench in front of the 
window, and stared outside.  Tears filled his eyes to the point 
that he couldn't see the stars anymore and he wiped them 
away angrily, cursing himself for getting back together with 
the man. Nothing had changed; Chakotay would still jump up 
and leave him every damned time she commed him, like a 
dog hearing the sound of his mistress's voice.  

Tom sighed quietly and knew he needed to talk to someone, 
before despair overwhelmed him, leaving him shattered and 
broken.  Harry.  Without further thought, he was on his feet 
and heading out the door.


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


Chakotay didn't know what in the world had just happened. 
He and Tom had been stretched out on the couch in his 
lover's quarters, just holding each other silently, when the 
Captain's voice had come over the comm.  Tom had been off 
the sofa and out the door before she'd even finished saying 
Chakotay's *name*.  He fumed silently, wanting to go after 
Tom, but needing to talk to the Captain.

And Chakotay found himself talking, not about ship's 
business, but about Tom and what the problem could be with 
him, and why was he still so damned unresponsive.

"I don't know what the hell's wrong, Kathryn," Chakotay said, 
both the pacing and the swearing telling her how worried he 
was.

"What has he said?" she asked, thoughtfully sipping on her 
coffee.

"He hasn't said more than a couple of dozen words to me in 
the last five days," Chakotay growled.

"I know some of the crew thought that we had gotten 
together on New Earth," she said carefully.

"I told him that nothing happened!" Chakotay exclaimed.

"Did he believe you?" Janeway asked quietly, seeing 
Chakotay halt in his tracks before his head whipped around 
to meet her eyes.

"You think he didn't believe me?" Chakotay asked, coming 
over to sit next to her. "I *told* him that I tried, that I *had* to, 
but that nothing happened.  And nothing was going to.  He 
knew about my feelings for you, he's always known," his 
voice trailed off.

"And now you're back," Janeway pointed out reasonably. 
"And you went back to him, because it didn't work out with 
me," said gently with a smile.

"Oh, damn," Chakotay murmured as he saw it how he was 
willing to bet Tom had seen it.

"Talk to him, Chakotay," Janeway held up a hand at his 
sputtered protest.  "Don't make me make it an order," she 
said with a mock-glare.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said softly, laying a hand on her arm 
before he headed out the door.

"Good luck," she said quietly to the closed door and sighed. 
She wondered how much of this was her fault, for never 
really breaking off cleanly with Chakotay, giving him the 
chance to make a life with someone else.  The attention had 
been enjoyable, flattering, sweet.  He'd made her feel 
wanted, needed, attractive and she'd let it go on far too long. 
Now, her own culpability was destroying her pilot.  Gods, 
what a mess. She hoped Chakotay could make Tom feel as 
needed and wanted and cherished as he'd always made her 
feel. 

To top it all off, her advice to Tuvok had been such a mistake 
that Harry was barely speaking to anyone off-duty and was 
becoming more and more like Tom Paris all the time, brittle, 
harsh, even nasty on occasion.  She'd known that Tuvok 
would need to seek Tom out and hoped the Lieutenant 
would be able and willing to help heal the rift between her 
Chief of Security and her favorite Ensign.

The tension on the bridge these days would make 
impressive shielding, if they could find a way to harness it, 
she thought wryly.  Nothing seemed to be able to get through 
it.  This simply couldn't go on any longer.  It was tearing the 
ship apart.


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