**************************************************** Disclaimer time once again! Thirty-eighth 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 series involves sex between two men, sort of, a.k.a 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.  :) Second in the 'V' series.  You might want to read the first one, or this won't make a whole lot of sense.  Huge spoilers for 'Threshold'. 'Volant' by Amirin **************************************************** Tom grinned into his pillow as the music that had awakened him slowly rose in volume.  He could already smell breakfast and rolled over, knowing it was time to get up. "Good morning, Pilot," a softly resonant voice echoed throughout the room. "It certainly is, V," he murmured, throwing the covers off and standing to stretch as he tugged a robe on over his naked frame. He staggered into the living area of his quarters to find a table loaded with enough food for ten people and couldn't help laughing. "What's so funny?" V asked him, his tone clearly reflecting his puzzlement. "You are spoiling me rotten!" Tom exclaimed, sitting down and digging in. A momentary silence descended as V accessed the computer and figured out his pilot's meaning. "I could spoil you *forever* and you would never be rotten," V answered. Tom shook his head, making quick work of his eggs.  He could actually hear the smile in V's voice.  Unbelievable. But, then, the whole situation was pretty unbelievable.   How lucky could a guy get, anyway?  He had rank, a Captain who respected him, a few friends, and was the pilot of a now-sentient ship, the most important person in that ship's existence, in fact. A ship that took care of him, looked out for him, protected him. Liked him. A lot.  More than a lot. Tom smiled as he finished the fruit and fresh-baked bread. Delicious, even if it was replicated.  Gods, the lengths V went to, to keep him happy.  He knew there was nothing his ship wouldn't do for him; they'd had this discussion before. It was overwhelming, sometimes, awe-inspiring.  And he couldn't help feeling a little unworthy of it all, on occasion. Sighing and sated, he looked at the still mostly-full table and chuckled. "Finished?" V asked him and, when Tom nodded, the table cleared itself, the remaining dishes and utensils beamed back into the nether regions of Voyager, leaving no trace, as usual.   Tom stood and headed to the shower, tossing his robe back onto the mussed bed as he went by.  The shower was already running when he reached it, temperature exactly what he preferred and he stepped in, soaping up and rinsing off quickly.  Not everyone on board had the luxury of a hot-water shower every morning, but V knew he didn't care for the sonic ones, so . . . Getting out, he toweled off quickly and walked back into the bedroom, finding the bed already made and his robe folded on the end.  Tom shook his head, smiling, threw on his uniform, and exited his quarters.  V was silent as he headed down the corridor to the turbolift, until he entered and was fortunately alone.  The pilot hated it when there were other people on the 'lifts with him; his ship wouldn't talk to him unless he was by himself, not wanting anyone else to discover his existence.   "Anything out there I need to know about?" Tom asked, aware of how V constantly scanned the area around him with the sensors, not liking hostile surprises. "It seems pretty quiet at the moment," V remarked, reaching out as far as he could.  "We're still in Vidiian space, though." Tom heard the loathing in his ship's voice and grinned.  He certainly shared it.  Worse than vultures, the Vidiians.  He was still grinning when he exited onto the bridge and his cheerful "Good morning" earned him a barely-concealed scowl from Chakotay, a bemused look from the Captain and a wide smile from Harry. "You seem to be in a good mood, this morning, Lieutenant," Janeway remarked dryly. "Sometimes, the universe is a wonderful place, Captain," Tom quipped, meeting Chakotay's expression with a delighted grin, before he took his seat.  V's usual morning note was waiting for him on his console and he quickly read it, then deleted it, still grinning as he sent back a fond reply. Yes, the universe was a wonderful place, indeed.                     <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>> V cringed inwardly at the coldness in B'Elanna's voice when she told Tom, "You're dead."  Yet another unsuccessful attempt at breaking warp ten in a holographic shuttlecraft. They'd been at this for weeks, now, and had made some progress, but not enough to warrant a field test.   V told himself, rapidly searching the databanks for appropriate gods and goddesses.  None existed for warp travel, he mused quietly, as he followed Tom and Harry into the mess hall.   He'd never seen Tom so excited, he realized, and felt a pang of . . something.  He startled himself after running a complete diagnostic when he realized it was jealousy. Imagine that.   A quick study told him more than he wanted to know about this new experience and he decided he didn't *want* to be jealous, but couldn't seem to shake the feeling.  All the logic circuits in the universe weren't enough to combat an emotional reaction, no matter how irrational it might be. Maybe he could talk to Tom about it, later. His attention came back to the mess hall, just in time to see Tom and Harry leaving.  V replayed their talk over the last few minutes with Neelix and grinned inwardly at the Talaxian's surprisingly insightful input.  He liked Neelix; the man was an unknown quantity and thoroughly delightful, a constant source of amusement and intelligence.  And he seemed to genuinely care about this crew of total strangers, for reasons of his own. V shook his thoughts from Neelix and followed Tom and Harry through their implementation of the Morale Officer and erstwhile cook's suggestion and watched as the new design seemed to work.  Remarkable.  He couldn't have been happier for Tom.  Until . . . he thought about the risk involved, the danger to his pilot, who, of course, would be the one to make the flight. Panic nearly shorted out the primary weapons system as he thought about it, *really* thought about it for the first time.   V had been indulgent of Tom's project, encouraging, willing to listen, even though there wasn't much he could do to help *but* listen.  Now, however, . . now it seemed to be a near-reality and when he estimated Tom's chances of survival, and of success, he found the odds alarmingly against him. He tore into his own databanks, to calculate his ability to protect his pilot and froze when he realized there wouldn't be *anything* he could do to help Tom.  This was not acceptable.  The more he thought about it, the more he discovered he didn't like it and resolved to talk to Tom as soon as possible.                   <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>> "What do you mean, you don't want me to go?" Tom asked V quietly, trying to meet the green eyes of the brown-haired man over the bar. V shook his head helplessly, not knowing how to deal with Tom's lack of understanding and sighed his relief when his pilot engaged the privacy locks and deleted the other holocharacters. "It's too dangerous," he said softly, looking down at the hand tightening around his own. "I know it's risky, V, but *think* about the potential," Tom said, shaking his head at V's failure to see how important this was to him. "The potential for *disaster* is enormous," V replied evenly.  "And I've thought of little else since I found out you were actually intending to go through with this." "I *have* to go through with this," Tom protested.  "No one else can make the flight." "Harry could," V responded.  "He knows that system as well as you do." "I'm a better pilot than he is," Tom said, wondering why he had to state the obvious. "There wouldn't be much piloting involved, Tom," V said, sighing his frustration.  "A firing of the engines, then the return.  Harry could do that, easily." Tom bowed his head, not knowing how to make his ship understand what was at stake for him, here. "I *need* to do this, V," he said softly, pleading with his eyes for V to see what this meant to him. "The risk is too great, Pilot," V said strongly, finding himself growing angry and hating it. "It's *my* risk to take!" Tom said heatedly, trying to keep his voice from snapping.  "Besides, if I let Harry do this, and something happened to him, how would I live with that?" "I'd help you," V said, before he'd fully processed the thought and saw the dawning incredulity on Tom's face, before those beautiful features hardened and he knew he'd lost all hope of reaching his pilot with logical argument. "I'm going through with the flight," Tom said harshly, taking his hand back.  "I'm sorry that it worries you, I'm sorry you don't understand, but I'm doing it.  And that's final." He turned to leave, but the arch wouldn't appear and the doors to Sandrine's wouldn't open to permit him to leave.  He whirled around, glaring at Voyager, and saw the total misery on the man's face. "Let me go," he said, trying to stay calm, but losing his own battle with anger. "Tom . ." V began, but was cut off by Tom. "Let me *go*, dammit!" Tom ground out, moving away from the doors as V walked around the bar, heading for the fireplace. "I don't want anything to happen to you," V whispered, feeling himself pulling inward in the face of Tom's anger, looking for internal shielding. He'd never made his pilot mad at him before and it frightened him. "Let me go," Tom said, his voice reasonable but cold.  He frowned when V flinched, hearing it, and stood watching as the walls of Sandrine's began losing the illusion, saw the grid reforming on the surrounding holodeck, the bar fading in and out around them.  He stopped watching the bar when V began fading as well and found himself walking over to the fireplace, where the green-eyed man was standing, facing away from him, arms wrapped around himself, as he gazed into the flames. Tom drew a deep breath and dragged his hands through his hair in understanding.  The pilot now recognized the fear radiating from his ship and closed the distance between them, to put a hand on V's shoulder.  He sighed, feeling the man shaking, and the fireplace disappeared, as a piece of his favorite restaurant from New London, on Mars, came into being in front of them.  Tom turned to see part of his uncle's fishing cabin to his left, while some of Sandrine's was still behind him and the front-section of a shuttlecraft was visible to his right.  There were stars overhead, plus a clear-blue sky, clouds, and four suns, two of which were going nova. He shook his head. "Okay, you're upset," he acknowledged grimly, his anger fading as V turned around, solid and real again.  With tears filling his green eyes.  "No fair," Tom whispered, protesting faintly. "I can't help it," V answered brokenly.  "I don't want to lose you." "I don't want to lose me, either," Tom said, hands resting on V's shoulders.  "But, I *need* to do this."  V tried to turn from him and Tom pulled him closer, bringing the man into his arms.  "Access what you've got about pilots Cochran, Armstrong, and Yeager in the computer core," he suggested, murmuring into the ear closest to his lips.  "Try and understand how the challenge and potential override the desire to always play it safe." "I understand how the challenge and potential override *good sense*," V said, voice slightly hostile, before he sighed, sagging into Tom's arms, as the history played itself out for him.  The drive to succeed, to keep trying, was inherent in humans, apparently.   "Those men were lucky, Tom," V muttered.  "What about all the ones who came before and died doing what they eventually succeeded at?  The ones who lost their lives trying to bring the footprints of man to the moon?  The dozens who died spectacular, fiery deaths attempting to break the sound barrier? The hundreds who perished, for the sake of achieving warp-speed?  What about *them*, versus the three individuals who succeeded?" "Where would mankind be if they hadn't tried?" Tom argued back.  "I wouldn't be standing here, on a holodeck, seventy-thousand lightyears from home, talking to a sentient starship, if they hadn't tried, if they'd decided the risks were too great, the challenge more than they could overcome. And *you* wouldn't be here, either," he went on softly, brushing V's hair back from his ears as he looked into amazingly clear, green eyes. "You wouldn't exist, in any way, if they hadn't *tried*.  I have to *try*, V.  I *have* to." Tom watched the bar vanish, the shuttle disappear, the restaurant melt away.  All that remained was the cabin, and the stars, and the full moon outside the window. V pulled away and sighed, shaking his head on a heavy, weary, exhalation. "Then, try," he said, feeling like his engines were blowing apart somewhere in the vicinity of his holographic chest.  "And succeed.  Or *else*," he muttered, trying not to return Tom's relieved grin.  He found himself melting as soft lips kissed his own and instinctively ran a full diagnostic on the hull as heat swept over his skin. Everything checked out, except for his escalating heartrate, and he struggled to keep the engines at their current speed. Tom backed away to find V frowning at him. "What's wrong?" he asked cautiously, warm hand stroking the side of the man's face. V closed his eyes, cataloguing every last piece of information relating to the feel of Tom's touch.  "Everything I feel you doing to me is channeling through this holographic body, spontaneously affecting the programming," he whispered, looking down at himself.  "You're overloading my circuitry." "That's a new one," Tom said with gentle humor. "And here I thought I'd heard them all." V snorted, making Tom grin at him and he smiled, copying the caress onto Tom's face, storing everything he was experiencing about his pilot's skin in his bio-neural pathways, the soft noises coming from deep in his throat, all of it.  His lips touched Tom's forehead and he felt as well as heard the faint gasp of air taken by the man in his arms. He scanned Tom quickly, making sure he was all right, and found the breathing much faster than usual, as well as the heartbeat.  V paused for a moment, until blue eyes managed to focus on him again. "Is this pleasure?" he asked quietly. "Sure feels like it, to me," Tom answered instantly, his voice rough, before he stopped, frowning.  "V, what does this feel like to you?" "Warm, overwhelming, not usual," V struggled to tell Tom what he was feeling, but it was difficult. "The same 'not usual' that you feel when you're damaged?" Tom asked with concern. "No," V answered quickly.  "That feels . . wrong.  This feels . . right." "What else?" Tom asked, curious as to how V was currently experiencing this. "Your touch is . . electric," V mumbled as Tom's hand stroked his cheek. "It tingles, in a way.  The ripples echo throughout my gel-packs, as it would your nervous system. This touch is different than the way you usually touch me, closer, somehow."  His voice was silenced when Tom kissed him again and he tried to follow the rush of data that accompanied it, because he knew Tom would ask him, but he got distracted by a hot, wet tongue sliding along his own and he jumped, slightly startled. Tom pulled away, looking at V with concern and amusement.  "You okay?" he asked, grinning. "That was . . you . . mmmmm," V sighed, taking Tom's face in his hands to kiss him again.  He'd kissed Tom before, well, once before, anyway.  Why did this feel so . . so . . different? Tom let V take the lead, not too sure where the man was heading, but enjoying the journey, anyway.  V whimpered slightly and Tom's eyes shot open, wondering how this was being perceived by the man in his arms and found himself wishing they could move away from the fireplace in the cabin. Damn, it was getting warm . . .                      <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> "Harry, what's going on?" Janeway asked her Ops Officer, feeling the slow, gradual increase in temperature. "Unknown, Captain, something's effecting the environmental heating controls.  Rerouting power to stabilize the system . . ."                      <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>    Tom carefully led V away from the fireplace and moved them gently toward the bed.  He had no idea what was going to happen, but being comfortable was never a bad thing. V's hands tightened around his arms as he registered the movement, but the fall backward onto the bed caught him by surprise and he yelped into Tom's mouth . . .                      <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> Chakotay helped the Captain to her feet and shook his head to clear his own disorientation. "Harry, what just happened?" Janeway barked, straightening her uniform as her crew struggled to their posts again. "Inertial dampeners went offline for a moment, but they seem to be functioning perfectly now," Harry's voice revealed his puzzlement.  He couldn't find a damn thing wrong; it was like it hadn't even happened. "All systems check out fine, Captain," he informed them, beginning several diagnostics to try and find the problem . . .                        <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> V's hands were working to remove Tom's clothing and he was barely aware of it.  Dimly, he kept a sensor on the rest of his systems, but most of him was thoroughly involved with what Tom was doing.  His hands were running all over his pilot, helping him shed the rest of his clothes in record time. Deft fingers were quickly getting him out of his own and he only realized he could have made them vanish after they were already scattered on the floor around the bed.  He took a long look at Tom and couldn't help smiling. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, raining kisses on Tom's face until his pilot pushed him away, to take a long, hungry look of his own, stunned at the physical representation of his ship. "You're perfect," Tom said reverently, hands roaming all over the work of art lying naked at his side, long and lean and strong and . . wow.  "Damn, *look* at you, you're absolutely perfect." "Do you want me to change anything?" V asked immediately, finding himself reacting intensely to the look in Tom's eyes. "Hell, no, don't you even *think* about changing anything," Tom said fervently, stunned that V would consider it, even though it wouldn't require any effort on the part of his ship to alter his holographic appearance.  "You are you, just like this, all your own choices, and I wouldn't ask you to do anything differently," Tom said hurriedly.  "Would you want to change me?" "Never," V answered instantly, seeing Tom's point as the man nuzzled his ear.  "You are exactly the way you should be."  He groaned when a hot mouth found his neck, felt the overpowering warmth coursing through his bio-neural circuitry, again, and his breathing quickened, the quickly-adjusting, programmed response of his physical form taking him by surprise . . .                      <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> "Any ideas, B'Elanna?" Janeway asked, puzzled, hearing the rhythmic thrumming of the engines in the background as her Chief Engineer answered negatively.  The engines were speeding up, then slowing down, repeatedly, while the temperature steadily grew warmer all over the ship.  Except in the holodeck, but Harry hadn't discovered that, yet, what with main life support going offline every few seconds as well . . .                      <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> V swallowed Tom's cry as his hand closed around his pilot's erection and he smiled against his lips, kissing him ravenously.  The man shivered under him, moving along his body until his breathing was coming in quick gasps. V watched Tom, surrounding him with every sensor and system, imprinting all of Tom's reactions onto his pathways, oblivious to nearly everything else onboard, as he worked to bring his pilot to climax.  A warm hand around his own erection drew his attention to the startling fact that he had one.  V processed the past several minutes worth of the biological impulses that led to this event and went through his own reactions in a microsecond before coming to the conclusion that he was physically responding to Tom's arousal, within his own program.  Intriguing.  His pilot's voice pulled his thoughts outward. "What do I have to do to make you come?" Tom groaned out, knowing he was damned close to doing exactly that, himself. V centered his awareness around his body, focusing all available sensors through his cock, connected to his circuitry, and shouted as everything about him that could feel, did.  Tom's feral grin wasn't helping and he shut his eyes, closing down sight, which only made touch more intense when his systems instantly rerouted, so he opened them again, to find his pilot looking fiercely at him. "What does it feel like?" Tom ground out as V's hand sped up, making the pressure and pleasure almost unbearable. "As if everything I am has been reduced to what you're holding in your hand," V gasped out, knowing that he was being overloaded, possibly dangerously so, but unwilling to make it stop. Tom grinned, not knowing what form V's release would take, but dying to make it happen for him. He moved faster and rougher along the heavy hardness in his hand and watched V's face tighten up, hoping he'd be able to maintain the holographic body.  The pilot moaned as V returned the favor, freeing the climax surging upward from his feet until Tom came, crying out into the curve of the man's neck. V felt Tom's cock surge within his grasp, felt the coiling of the man at his side and watched through his sensors as he brought his pilot into orgasm.  The resulting torrent of sensory information being absorbed by his bio-neural pathways, and added to his own program, was too much and he felt himself pulled inward, focused even more intently on touch, and his main systems began crashing in a cascade, each overloading and flowing into the next, bringing that one down with yet another crash.  Startled green eyes met his pilot's beautiful blue, when he realized what was happening to him, and his hands clenched around Tom's shoulders as V trembled, observing a distant scream with curious detachment until he recognized it as his own . . .                          <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> Janeway clapped her hands over her ears at the sharp sound of feedback shrilling through the comm system as Voyager went offline, system by system, until all was quiet and the ship was on reserve power, silent and waiting . . .                          <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> Tom held the shuddering form of his ship in his arms and grinned with delight.  V hadn't disappeared, but everything else had. They were lying naked on the floor of the holodeck, surrounded by the yellow grid against the black walls.  The intense heat was easing, the air becoming clearer, and V started moving sluggishly, again.  Tired, glowing green eyes focused on his own with effort and he leaned forward, kissing his lover.  His ship. His lover. Gods, how incredible. V lay quietly, bringing himself back online a piece at a time. He restored the bed and the covers, to keep Tom warm and comfortable, as he worked on restoring himself to optimal efficiency.  It wasn't easy; fried circuitry had to be routed around, backup systems had to take on more than he'd ever demanded of them . . . but it was worth it. He monitored the comm system as soon as he had it functioning again and groaned as the reports began coming through.  What had he *done* to himself? Tom couldn't stop smiling.  There wasn't any physical evidence of V's climax, but he'd sure as hell *felt* one. Come to think of it, there wasn't any remaining evidence of Tom's, either.  His ship must have worked some sonic slight-of-hand, the pilot thought, stroking V's back and bending forward to tug the sheets over both of them, when he heard the groan. "Are you all right?" he asked, trying to see the face of the man at his side. "No," V answered honestly, then snorted, reassuring Tom. "How do you feel?" Tom queried, showering that perfectly breathtaking face with tender kisses. "A different sort of damaged," V replied, puzzled, until his pilot's stillness registered and he looked up, into worried blue eyes.  "I feel . . unhurt, yet . . shattered.  Not exactly broken, but . . wonderful and . . recovering . . slowly," he stumbled over the words, but Tom got enough of the meaning to erase the frown on his face, though V's remained behind. "What's wrong?" Tom asked, moving even closer to the calming man next to him. "My . . response . . to you . . affected the operating systems," he confessed. "Which ones?" Tom asked, rising onto his elbow to look down at V. "My primary systems.  All of them," V muttered, trying to hide in Tom's shoulder. "Damn.  How are things, now?" Tom asked quietly.   "Power is being restored, slowly.  I'm bringing things up to normal operations, as we speak." "Everyone okay?" Tom nudged him a bit until V looked up at worried blue eyes. "Everyone I care about," he whispered, but Tom frowned. "Yes, everyone's fine. Puzzled and alarmed, but fine." "We need to find a way to do this that won't bring your systems down around our ears, in future," Tom murmured, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You want to . . do this again . . with me?" V queried, his voice slightly uncertain. "Hell, yes, I want to 'do this again'," Tom answered instantly, trying to bend his mind around the concept that he'd just had sex with his ship.  And failing.  "My Ship," he murmured faintly, sighing in wry disbelief. "My Pilot," V replied, brushing his lover's hair off his forehead to kiss him there, feeling . . oh, feeling *so* much. Tom ducked, bringing their lips together softly, sending a minor tremor through his ship's overtaxed pathways.  He backed off and looked at V. Green eyes glazed, skin flushed, breathing still somewhat faster than normal, hair unruly, and lips swollen and infinitely kissable.  Damn, this was some program. "What?" V asked, noticing Tom's intent perusal. "You look wonderful when you've been recently made love to," Tom answered, smiling as V cocked his head to the side. "So do you," V whispered quietly, drawing his hand down Tom's arm to capture those talented fingers, rethinking everything he'd downloaded earlier about love.  There was so much to know and a lot of it was confusing.  But, the emotions running through him at the moment were so strong, he didn't think it could be anything else.  V decided to study the concept more before saying anything to his Pilot, meeting Tom's smile with one of his own as they watched their hands play with each other's, before kissing again. Tom settled down against V's side and the cabin faded back into holographic existence around them.  The only light came from the fire and the moon outside, and he sighed, feeling content. V thought about the notion of loving something enough to set it free and sighed.  "About the warp ten flight," he began, seeing Tom grow still at his side.  "Be careful.  And come back to me." Tom looked up at his lover and smiled, kissing his smooth chest.  "I intend to."                         <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> V spent the whole next day looking over all the available information about the shuttle flight. Everything checked out just fine. The shuttle was in perfect condition, all systems operating at peak efficiency.  Everything *was* fine. So, why did he have this strange sensation, like something was wrong?  He downloaded the relevant data hurriedly and realized it was a lot like intuition, this odd, faintly uncomfortable feeling.  But, the shuttle was all right, what else . . ? V turned his attention to his pilot.  Was something wrong with Tom?  He went through all the data, found him to be in perfect health, at the moment, then accessed the files in sickbay.  And found nothing.  An idea born of worry and fear made him pause, smashing his good intentions, about letting Tom go, all to hell. If there *were* something wrong with his pilot, he wouldn't be able to go on the flight. Would he? He wondered what he could do, how to make it enough to prevent Tom from taking the chance, but not enough to keep him from doing his job.  Then, it occurred to him. Nothing major, but enough.  A slight problem in Tom's brain.  Very slight.  But, it could kill him if he went through with the experiment.  V sighed, and left the misinformation up for the Doctor to find, hoping that it would be enough.                           <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> The Holodoc had decided to go right to the Captain with the discovery; he hadn't wanted to be the one who grounded Tom.  And the Captain had gone to Harry, making sure he felt up to the flight, before she went and talked to Tom about whether or not he should be making the attempt.  She was erring on the side of 'not', but she was willing to bet that Tom would want to go, regardless.   Janeway sighed.  She knew how much this meant to him, maybe more than anyone.  Well, save Harry, at least.  The look on the Ensign's face reflected no pleasure in the possibility of his making history, only distress that he might be taking the chance away from Tom, who by rights *should* be the one to go, he was the *pilot*, for crying out loud. Unquote.  She sighed again and made her way slowly to Tom's quarters.                        <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> Tom sat quietly after the Captain left.  Now, there was a real, definable reason why he shouldn't go on this flight. But, he was going to go, anyway.  He sighed, thinking about it, whether it was worth it, whether it might just kill him, when a soft voice spoke up. "Are you angry?" Tom frowned, vocalizing his thoughts.  "Why would I be . .?" he paused and thought about it a little more. "What did you do?" Tom asked, sighing. "V?  What did you *do*?" "I arranged for the Doctor to find the defect, hoping he, or the Captain, would prevent you from making the warp ten attempt tomorrow." Tom stood and paced, jamming his hands into the pockets of his robe.  "You were worried about me," he said tiredly. "That's all.  No, I'm not angry. It's another risk; I'll just have to deal with it and . ." "There's nothing wrong with you," V interrupted. Tom froze in mid-step and made his way back to the chaise, falling on it. "What?" he whispered incredulously. "There is no defect," V admitted quietly.  "I created it, for the Doctor to find." "Okay," Tom hissed, standing again, fire flowing through him. "*Now*, I'm angry." "Tom . ." "Get out." Tom, please . ." "Get the FUCK OUT OF HERE AND *STAY* OUT!" he roared, whirling around, wishing V were there physically, but glad he wasn't, since the pilot was feeling the urge to do someone some impressive bodily harm at the moment. Tom wasn't sure if V was actually gone, or just quiet, but it didn't matter. Not really. "How could you *do* this to me?" Tom wailed, sinking onto the bed.  "How *could* you?" V remained quiet, listening in anguish to his pilot's choked curses as shaking hands covered his beautiful face. he thought, feeling sorrow flow along his circuitry, as he recognized the truth of it, before sending a torrential downpour through the resort program, just because he felt like it.                           <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>> The litany went on forever, all of V's sensors concentrated in sickbay, watching for any movement from the body being covered on the biobed, to wait for the next day's autopsy. He wanted to yell at the Doctor, tell him that Tom couldn't be dead, to just wait a little longer, try a little harder to revive him. He felt helpless and guilty, having failed, once again, to protect his pilot.  What could he do?  *Could* he do anything? Or was it as late as the Doctor seemed to think? Ignoring his grief, he plunged into the sickbay databanks and downloaded every scrap of information since Tom had returned, from his collapse in the mess hall, to the resulting allergy to water, to his body failing, to his death.  V shook off the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him and tore into the computer banks, looking for anything he could use to help Tom. Going over all the available data, he noticed something odd.  Tom seemed to be growing a second heart, right next to the original one.  Like a Klingon? V dove into a study of secondary organs and found some interesting cases of Klingons who'd revived after death, due to secondary organs kicking in. But Tom's other organs were a mess; the cellular membranes had totally degraded and wouldn't sustain life, even if he get that second heart functioning again.  An idea on how to deal with the problem occurred to him in the next instant: use the transporter to replace them, which he began to do immediately, working with the tissue regenerators to fix what he could, practically under the Doctor's nose as he went to work in his office, filling out Tom's death certificate. The organs were repaired and replaced, the cell membranes restructured, and V sent a light jolt into the second heart, trying to coax it into beating. He sent another, then another, and, finally, a thready heartbeat emerged, growing stronger as the secondary heart developed to the point that it could sustain Tom's life.  V felt like shouting when he saw the man's body take over, repairing other damage at a fantastic rate, but kept quiet, washing sensor after sensor over Tom, murmuring to him faintly through the comm system, so the Doctor wouldn't hear. "Can you hear me?" V asked him softly, everything turned up loud enough so he could hear the barest whisper coming from his pilot.  "Scratch the biobed if you can't speak, Tom. Let me know you can hear me, please." V heaved a sigh of relief, almost laughing with delight. "Good.  You're all right, you're alive.  Do you understand?" "You're in sickbay, under a sheet, that's why you can't see. You're going to be fine. I'm not losing you again."  A horrible thought made V pause. "Do you know who I am?" V had to be silent when the Doctor came out of his office and Tom began scratching frantically, trying to get him to speak again.  He almost gave himself away, so strong was his wish to comfort his pilot, when the Doctor flipped the sheet back and found Tom, alive and breathing, and still scratching the biobed. V sighed, letting the Doctor do his job, but never took so much as a sensor off of Tom.                    <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>> The next several hours were a nightmare.  The mutations were coming fast and furious and there was nothing V could do about them.  He'd had to stop communicating with Tom, even though the man kept trying to get him to talk to him, speaking to him at times, to the Doctor at others.  No wonder the holodoc thought Tom was out of his mind. Tom kept begging V to let him go, to remove the containment field, taking the ship back to that night when he'd refused to let the man off the holodeck.  Kes had even asked the pilot once where he wanted to go, after one of his many requests for freedom, but Tom hadn't been talking to her and wouldn't answer.  It was nearly destroying V to deny him, but he had to. The Doctor's idea for the proton bursts was a good one, until Tom got loose.  The resulting phaser fire in engineering had hit one of his warp cells, which would have made Tom sick with guilt, if he'd been aware of his actions.  All he wanted to do, was leave, and V finally did what Tom asked and let him go, trailing him throughout his being, blinding his internal sensors deliberately to Harry, to give his lover a chance to escape until his pilot encountered the Captain and took her along, stealing the shuttle and taking off.  V tracked them with his external sensors for as long as he could, but had to give up eventually, hoping Tom had found whatever he'd needed. Little did he know that Tom's mating urge had reached unbearable hyper-evolved levels and *that* was the reason for his overwhelming desire to go.  The next three days passed with unbearable slowness as they followed the shuttle, V agonizing over letting Tom leave, hoping it wouldn't be too late to reverse the process, once they got him back.   He barely recognized the lifeform moving through his transporters as his pilot and watched anxiously while the Doctor brought both Tom and the Captain back to normal, confining them to sickbay for three days until their genetic patterns became stable. The enforced silence between ship and pilot was unbearable, but every once and a while Tom would scratch on the biobed, and V would hear it and make a light flicker back in response to let Tom know he was listening.  Every part of his being sang when Tom would smile, or say 'thank you' softly when the Doctor was busy with the Captain and he could speak for a second, undetected. Finally, the Doctor released them both and Tom was in the turbolift, alone. And insisting on going to the holodeck to see his ship. "You need to rest," V insisted right back.  "Now, stop arguing with me." "V, I *need* to see you," Tom pleaded quietly. "You need to eat and sleep and let me take care of you tonight," V said firmly. "You can come see me tomorrow." "I need to touch you, again," Tom protested, although he knew V was right. People would think it strange if he went to the holodeck first thing after getting out of sickbay. "You *are* touching me," V told him gently.  "As long as you're onboard, you're touching me, Tom." "I need to hold you, then, please," Tom begged, needing to apologize for the phaser blast in engineering that damaged one of the warp cells, hurting V, needing to make up and get this behind them, needing . . hell, needing *everything*. Needing his ship. "Tomorrow," V said.  "Please, Pilot.  Tomorrow." Tom sighed, exhausted and drained.  Hell, he hadn't done anything for the last three days besides sleep, eat, read, and talk to the Captain, but he was beat.   "All right," he conceded, tiredly.  "Tomorrow." The 'lift arrived on his deck and he headed to his quarters, letting V beam his clothes off him as he crawled between the covers and burrowed inside, while his ship eased the hunger within him that had barely been around long enough to make its presence felt. He murmured his thanks and V hushed him gently, urging him to sleep as the lights were dimmed to darkness. "The Captain gave me leave for the next two days," Tom mumbled. "I know, Tom," V said quietly.  "Sleep, now." "Spend them with me?" Tom asked hesitantly. V sighed with relief.  "I'd love to.  Now, sleep." "'Night, V." "Good-night, Pilot."                        <<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>> Tom woke the next morning to the soft strains of Rachmaninoff echoing through his quarters and felt nearly . . human. Sunlight hit his face, making him squint, and he bolted upright to find V standing next to his bed, wondrously naked and smiling.  He fell back, realizing where he was - in the holoprogram of his uncle's cabin, and sighed.  Holding his hand out, he pulled his lover to him when the green-eyed man laced his fingers through his own. V fell onto the bed, on top of the covers, and laughed for a moment, until he caught the serious look on his pilot's beautiful face. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, stretching out alongside Tom to brush his hair out of his eyes.  "I didn't *want* to hurt you.  I was just so afraid for you . ." he trailed off, tabling the rest of it, for now, when Tom nodded and grinned ruefully. "I know," Tom answered softly, reaching out to enfold the man in his arms. "I know."   "Will you forgive me?" V asked him, murmuring softly into his ear. "I already have," Tom replied, kissing him tenderly. Tenderness rapidly progressed to passion and Tom was soon breathless, but he wanted to clear up a few things, first. "I hurt you, too, in engineering, with the phaser. Gods, if I'd hit your warp core . . "  And he was muted by warm lips covering his own, until he moved away.  "I'm so sorry, V." "I know," V assured him. "You didn't know what you were doing, you weren't in control.  It's not your fault." He kissed Tom and smiled.  "I read the Captain's commendation.  You made history.  A pioneer, my Pilot."  And he grinned at Tom's laughter. "I'm glad I did what I did, making the flight," Tom said.  "But, I did it for the wrong reasons, even though everything worked out all right in the end." V nodded, having overheard the conversation Tom had had with the Captain, about how he'd expected the flight to change him, make him feel better about himself, make him worthy.  He was going to have to have a long talk with his pilot about it. "You were lucky," V told him, holding him close. "I had help," Tom said, taking his lover's face in his hands. "I know you saved my life, brought me back, it had to have been you, right?" V nodded, surprised.  "How did you know?" "The Doc couldn't explain it," Tom said, grinning at him. "I was dead, than alive again, and you were there, I remember you talking to me, keeping me calm, until the Doc came back into the room.  I knew you must have had something to do with it; you were too intent on not losing me again." "I noticed the second heart and got it beating," V said with a shrug. "And my other internal organs?" Tom pinned him with a look. "They weren't functioning when I died, but they were fine when I revived." "They just needed a little help, that's all." Tom laughed, wrapping his arms around him, again. "I won't lose you, again, Pilot," V said, after kissing him silent.  "I won't." Tom smiled and shook his head, seeming more at peace with himself than V had ever seen him. "You won't.  I promise." **************************end