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Disclaimer time once again!  Twenty-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.  :)

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Joyous Winter Solstice to the 
CPSG.
Dedicated in thanks to Margaret, who made sure it didn't sound 
familiar, and in sympathy to Debbie and her wounded wrist.  Hot 
cocoa and hugs to you both.


'Parry' by Amirin


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


Tom had no idea how long he'd been lying there.  Time had little 
meaning when his last hope for a happy future had just walked out 
the door.  He idly brought a hand to his chest, the fact that his heart 
was still beating struck him as some sort of sick joke.  How the hell 
could it, after being torn from his body, thrown beneath Chakotay's 
boots and stomped straight through the floor of Sandrine's to the 
deck below?  

What was left of Sandrine's, anyway.  He'd deleted the 
holocharacters after Chakotay had left, not wanting their holographic 
eyes to bear witness to the aftermath of his lover breaking up with 
him. Broken them, broken him. It had struck him how many other 
things in the bar were breakable, and he'd spent the next moments in 
a rage, finding every one of them.  Now the bar was as shattered as 
his heart, as battered as his spirit, and he felt nothing.  Tired, maybe, 
and numb, but no more. 

"No more," Tom whispered, in a voice made ragged by screaming. 
His commbadge had chirped a couple of times; he'd ignored it.  A 
fog, cold and lifeless, had crept around him when he wasn't looking 
and he wondered if a full-scale red-alert could bring him out of the 
state he found himself in.  He doubted it.  It was over, and it never 
had a chance.  Chakotay had unilaterally decided the two of them 
didn't have enough in common, no shared interests, expectations, or 
anything else to provide a reason to stay together.  Tom had 
foolishly thought the fact that they loved each other might have been 
enough.  Apparently it wasn't.  

He watched his fingers flex, seeing the blood flow along the 
numerous cuts and scratches on his hands.  He'd turned off the 
safeties, after initiating his personal privacy lock, kicked off his 
shoes, and played baseball with the broken cue sticks and pool 
balls, until he'd run out.  Every bottle had been broken, before he'd 
turned his attention to the chairs and tables.  A few cracks against 
the walls had turned them into kindling.  He'd pulled the sides of the 
pool table apart, heaving the large sections around the room, before 
standing on the felt surface to smash the lights with a cue stick.  The 
mirror lay in a thousand pieces on the bar, the doors hung off their 
hinges, every glass was in shards on the floor. He had a few pieces 
in his feet, but could only vaguely feel them.  The pain in his chest 
was greater by far.  He heard voices, in the distance, dimly, and 
ignored them.  Not moving, he was still lying on his side, facing away 
from the door, when Harry and B'Elanna walked in.  They carefully 
avoided touching the doors, which looked like a decent breeze could 
bring them crashing to the floor at any moment.  Harry froze, staring 
dumbfounded at the wreckage of Tom's haven. B'Elanna whistled 
softly.

"Great Kahless, what hit this place?" she whispered, quietly, wide 
eyes meeting Harry's.

"I think he did," Harry replied in a hushed tone, nodding toward the 
still figure lying on what was left of the pool table.

The two of them had spent several worried minutes trying to get past 
Tom's lockout, when he refused to answer his commbadge.  The 
fact that the safeties had been turned off only added to their 
concern.  Now, they headed over to Tom, walking carefully over the 
shattered glass that covered the floor. Harry put a hand on Tom's 
shoulder, drawing it away quickly.

"He's shaking," he said quietly, eyes widening even more when 
B'Elanna nodded to the bloody, bare feet, before walking around the 
table.  She didn't see shoes anywhere, and gave up looking for them 
under all the mess.  "We've got to get him to sickbay," Harry 
murmured, moving around the table so he could see Tom.  The man 
was pale, sweating, shivering.  About as much of a wreck as the bar. 
He took one of Tom's cold hands in his, turning it over to see the 
damage covering it, saw the other one was in similar shape.

B'Elanna stepped forward, brushing damp hair off of Tom's 
forehead, out of his eyes.  She looked into them, but no one looked 
back.

"Tom, hey, there," she said lightly, trying to draw him out.  Nothing, 
not so much as a flicker.  "Come on, Paris, dammit, answer me!" she 
barked, still not getting a response, as she worriedly met Harry's 
eyes.  "We're taking him to sickbay," she agreed, nodding, finally 
getting a reaction out of Tom, who was slowly shaking his head.

"No," he breathed, so quietly they would've missed it if they hadn't 
been listening for it.  "No more." 

"We can patch him up, B'Elanna.  If the Doc gets wind of this, he'll 
order a psyche eval, and he might pull Tom off duty," Harry 
reasoned.

"That might not necessarily be a bad idea, Harry, *look* at him," 
B'Elanna shot back.

"Flying is the only thing that'll bring him out of this, if nothing else 
will," Harry explained.

"What the hell *happened*?" B'Elanna asked, as she grabbed a 
hand and arm and tried to pull Tom upright.

"Chakotay," Tom whispered, in a voice that matched the glass on the 
floor.  Harry and B'Elanna's eyes met, incredulity in them.

"He didn't . . ." Harry trailed off.

"He wouldn't . . ." B'Elanna replied.

"It's over," Tom whispered numbly, in a dead voice, letting them 
swing his legs around, before they looked at the floor and saw the 
glass right below where Tom would be putting his feet.  B'Elanna 
was about to tell him to reinitiate the program, to get rid of it, when he 
crumbled in front of her, falling sideways into Harry, quietly sobbing.

"Come on, Starfleet, grab his other leg," B'Elanna ordered, in a hurry 
to be anywhere but there, having to watch Tom completely break 
down.

"What, we're *carrying* him?" Harry asked, surprised.

"If I can pound the crap out of a Vulcan in Ponn Farr, I can help you 
carry Paris, now grab his leg!" B'Elanna barked, trying not to let her 
concern become obvious.  Judging from Harry's look, he wasn't 
buying it.  She sighed.  "Look, he's in no shape to reset the program, 
it's still locked out, under his command, and we don't have time to 
play around, trying to find the codes.  So, *yes*, we're carrying him. 
We can't afford to leave a transporter log; we'll just have to be 
careful.  As late as it is, it should be easy enough to avoid people."

"My quarters," offered Harry. "They're closest."

B'Elanna nodded in agreement, and they got together for an 
old-fashioned 'fireman's carry'.  Tom was deadweight, leaning 
against Harry's shoulder, as they worked their way out of the remains 
of Sandrine's, and headed down the corridor to the turbolift.

Waiting for it to reach Harry's deck, their eyes met again, silently 
communicating.  This break-up had obviously *not* been Tom's 
idea.  B'Elanna sighed, annoyed with herself.  All this time she'd 
been worried that Paris would break Chakotay's heart, and here the 
pilot was probably going into shock, having just thoroughly trashed 
his favorite program, leaving himself a bloody, battered mess.  
Damn, she could just about thrash Chakotay, right now, for doing 
this.  Tom was her friend and Harry's and, gods knew, the man didn't 
deserve this.

Carefully, they negotiated the corridors, moving quickly.  Fortunately, 
they didn't meet up with anyone.  Walking into Harry's quarters, they 
headed for the bed and set Tom down, letting him fall backward, 
keeping his feet out of contact with the floor. Harry covered Tom's 
shaking body with a blanket before getting a medkit. The two of them 
worked rapidly, healing the dozens of cuts and scratches on his feet, 
as well as his hands.  It seemed to take longer than it actually did, 
and soon they were finished, sighing in collective relief.  B'Elanna 
didn't know if Tom was out cold, or simply asleep; he was totally 
unresponsive.

"What are you going to do if he's still a zombie, tomorrow morning?" 
she asked quietly, in the heavy silence of the room.

"I'll worry about it tomorrow morning," Harry answered, softly.  "It's 
still early, he'll get plenty of sleep.  We'll just have to wait and see 
how he is, then," he finished, rubbing his hands over his face, 
worriedly.

"Hey," B'Elanna said softly, getting his attention.  "You're a hell of a 
friend, Harry Kim.  You don't have to do this for him, you know."

"Yeah, I do.  He'd do it for me, in a heartbeat," Harry said, then 
smiled.  "But thanks, B'Elanna."

"I hope he knows how lucky he is," she said, smiling.

Harry frowned.  "He's not going to *feel* real lucky for a while."

"What the hell happened?  They were doing so well, together," 
B'Elanna asked, frustrated.

Harry shook his head.  "I don't know.  Maybe he'll tell me, tomorrow," 
he finished, tiredly, yawning.

"Get some sleep, Starfleet.  I'll see you tomorrow.  If you need help 
with anything, call me," B'Elanna said, placing a hand on Harry's 
shoulder.

"You're a good friend, too, B'Elanna," he said, grinning, as she made 
her way to the door after punching him lightly on the arm.  "Good 
night."

He barely heard the door swish closed, as he brushed the still-damp 
hair back from Tom's forehead.  Harry pulled the blanket even more 
tightly around Tom, settling him in for the night on top of the covers, 
before stripping off most of his own clothes and falling into bed, 
exhausted, next to his oblivious best friend. 

Harry awoke the next morning to find no sign of Tom anywhere.  The 
blanket was neatly folded and lay at the end of the bed, as if it had 
never been disturbed.  Harry sighed, running a hand over his face, 
and wondered how his friend was faring this morning, before he 
headed to the shower.

Replicating himself a light breakfast, he sat quietly, debating on 
whether or not he should call Tom, or forego the warning and just 
drop by his quarters.  Only the fact that the man was obviously up 
and moving this morning made him decide against either.  Cleaning 
up, he walked slowly to the bridge, lost in thought.

He arrived at his post early, *very* early, and returned the Captain's 
greeting, forcing himself not to scowl at the Commander, when he 
saw him. Getting to work, he nonetheless kept a lookout for Tom. 
Shortly, his diligence was rewarded, when the 'lift doors opened and 
Tom walked slowly across the bridge to his post.  Harry flinched a 
little when dead, blue eyes swept over him, barely making contact. 
So cold they looked, now, that it gave Harry the shivers, as Tom took 
his seat.  He felt his own eyes flare in anger, when Chakotay glanced 
up briefly from his padd, then returned to work, all but ignoring the 
pilot.  It was going to be a long shift, thought Harry, as he brought his 
attention back to his console.

Chakotay tried not to watch Tom from underneath his eyelashes, but 
it was difficult.  The bridge was silent, tomb-like, and uncomfortable. 
No jokes, no running commentary, no amusing anecdotes, nothing 
but cold silence from the Conn officer.  He sighed quietly, knowing 
he shouldn't really be surprised.  Gods, the look on Tom's face, 
when Chakotay had told him it had to end.  If he had hit the man, 
Tom couldn't have been more shocked, or hurt. They should've 
*known* it wasn't going to work, before they'd even begun.  No 
shared interests, in anything, not music, recreation, food, personal 
history, beliefs, nothing.  All they had in common, was Voyager.  
And incredible sex.  It was about the only thing they did together, the 
only thing they *enjoyed* doing together.  Chakotay could feel the 
heat rising off of him in waves, just thinking about some of the times 
they'd been with each other.  But, it just wasn't enough for him.  And 
he felt he owed it to Tom, to end it before inertia set in and made it 
even harder for them to break it off.  It wasn't anybody's fault; it 
simply wasn't meant to be.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself the night before, every 
time he rolled over in an empty bed and reached for a man who 
wasn't there.  Chakotay exhaled heavily, trying to absorb himself with 
the latest crew rotations.  Maybe he should schedule the two of them 
at different times, at least for a while.  He was willing to bet it was his 
presence that was silencing Tom.  He couldn't have been more 
wrong.

Tom sat quietly, feeling like part of him was still asleep and 
dreaming.  He wasn't hung-over, exhausted, or ill, but he definitely 
wasn't well, either.  The roaring inside his head kept him quiet, the 
internal noise too loud for him to try and punch through.  A small part 
of him was relieved flying came so automatically to him, and that it 
seemed to be an uneventful day, or they'd all be in big trouble.

If Harry hadn't been looking so damned hard for something to spark 
Tom's interest, he might have missed it.

"Captain, I'm getting some odd readings on long-range sensors.  I 
think it's a wormhole, but the data doesn't make any sense," he 
began, as Tuvok spoke up.

"Confirmed, Captain.  Mr. Kim is correct; I can find no explanation for 
the erratic readings."

Janeway nodded.  Finally, something to break the mounting tension 
on her bridge.  "Mr. Paris, set a course.  Warp four."  

Tom knew he had acknowledged her command and saw his hands 
moving to head for Harry's newest discovery.  Another wormhole. 
Please, gods, let it be.  If for no other reason than to get the hell off 
the ship and away from Chakotay.

Soon, they were close enough to it that Harry was having a 
marvelous time recording the incoming data.  At one time, Tom 
might have grinned indulgently at his friend's exuberance.  Not today. 
He waited patiently as Tuvok announced the reason for the odd 
readings was that there was more than one wormhole crossing 
through and merging into the others.  It was like a large knot in a wad 
of string.  

Janeway was fuming, there were at least a dozen different paths and 
they needed to check them all out, launch probes to see where they 
ended up and not get lost.  She was more than a little surprised 
when Tom interrupted her musings.

"My grandfather once told me than if I was ever in a maze, to keep 
my right hand on the wall and never lose contact with it.  You won't 
backtrack, and you can't get lost," his dead-sounding voice 
murmured quietly.

Janeway arched an eyebrow, thinking.  "Think you can keep 
Voyager's right hand on the wall, Tom?" she asked, shading her 
voice with humor to mask her concern over Tom's fitness, right now, 
to do this.

"Yes, ma'am," Tom said, not even turning around, as was his usual 
custom.

"Go ahead, Mr. Paris," Janeway commanded and Tom took Voyager 
inside, taking only right turns, slow enough to allow Tuvok plenty of 
time to launch the probes.  About twenty minutes later, they were 
back outside the tangle, the readings coming in.

"Captain, most of them seem to end up back here," Harry said 
distractedly.  "A few are headed in the wrong direction," he paused, 
his voice growing stronger and excited with his next comment.  

"And one exits into the Alpha Quadrant, in the Cantraceous system, 
about sixty light years from Earth."

A couple of weeks and they'd be home. The silence on the bridge 
was even heavier than Tom's, before excited mumbles were heard. 
Janeway held a hand up for quiet.

"Which one, Harry?" she asked, wondering if Tom could find his way 
back to it.

"The ninth right turn," Harry answered, doublechecking his findings to 
make certain.

Janeway took a deep breath, trying to not let her excitement run 
away with her. After so many disappointments, it would be too 
heartbreaking if this couldn't work.

"Tom, take us back in," she ordered, finding her seat, as Tom 
navigated back to the correct entrance. Tuvok spoke up.

"Captain, the wormhole appears to shrink approximately a third of the 
way through," he informed them before announcing the exact size 
and Janeway's heart sank as she realized just how tight the space 
got.

"That leaves us less than nine meters around the ship," she said 
quietly, damning the galactic architect who designed this particular 
wormhole.  There was no way they could make it, she thought, until 
Tom spoke.

"Plenty of room," Tom muttered aloud, as though to himself, not 
hearing Chakotay's immediate protest as his ears mercifully made 
themselves deaf to his former lover's voice.

Janeway sat there, staring at his back, one look effectively silencing 
her Commander.  "Tom?" she asked, hesitantly, needing to confirm 
what he'd just said.

Tom turned around, meeting her eyes and hers widened when she 
saw his. Cold, empty.  Gods, like the eyes of a Borg.  She shivered 
inwardly, and Tom spoke again, at low volume.

"I can do it," he said quietly.  "Trust me." 

Janeway blinked, sighing deeply. "Tom, it's not that I don't trust you, 
but . ." she blinked again when he interrupted her for the first time 
ever.

"How many times have you trusted me and regretted it?" he asked 
simply, letting her do the math. 

Janeway bit her lip and nodded.  She had never regretted it, and he 
knew it.  She waved her hand forward.

"Take us home, Mr. Paris," she commanded softly, quelling 
Chakotay's protest before the man even opened his mouth.

Chakotay sat back in his seat, trying to get his breathing under 
control.  He wanted to tell the Captain that their pilot wasn't up to his 
usual standards, but how the hell did he do *that*?  'Oh, by the way, 
Captain, I broke up with him last night and the last thing he should be 
doing right now, is negotiating a wormhole with only meters of 
clearance around this ship'.  Right.

Tom headed Voyager into the wormhole, slowly, ticking off the 
distance in his head.  <Like threading a needle> he thought as the 
passage got dramatically narrower.  Suddenly, his patience was at 
an end.  He'd had it.  All he wanted was to get back home. 
Immediately, if not sooner.  And thruster-speed just wasn't cutting it. 
He kicked it up to one-quarter impulse and dimly heard Harry 
announce the change in velocity.  Increasing their speed to one-half 
impulse, he could hear the slight tremor in Harry's voice, but 
Janeway hadn't ordered him to back off, so he wasn't about to.

Janeway knew she'd gone pale when Harry told them Tom had 
increased speed.  What the *hell* was he doing?  Only the 
knowledge of how difficult this was, prevented her from saying 
anything to distract her pilot.  She saw his hands about to make the 
move to increase to three-quarter impulse and suddenly, there were 
stars around them.  She shared a collective sigh with most of the 
people on the bridge and when Tom turned around, she smiled, if 
a trifle shakily, until she saw the look he was pinning Chakotay with.

"Sometimes, Commander, all it takes is faith," he intoned in a voice 
worthy of a Vulcan, before turning back around.

Janeway saw Harry cringe and looked askance at him, wishing 
someone would tell her what the sam hell was going on. 
Distractedly, seeing Chakotay's face pale, then flame, she ordered 
Harry to do a full sensor sweep, confirming their location.  Less than 
seventeen days from home.


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


The journey back to Earth was a blur for Tom.  All he did was eat, 
sleep and fly, and none of them did he do well.  The times he was 
off duty, he stayed in his quarters, ignoring the rest of the celebration 
going on around him. He avoided Harry and B'Elanna and, as soon 
as he saw the sympathetically knowing look on the Captain's face, 
avoided her, too.

Voyager had managed to acquire something of an Honor Guard to 
escort them back to Earth, and Tom was waiting for someone in 
authority to show up and remove him from the ship.  He saw a lot of 
his father's cohorts, nodded when they spoke to him, and said 
nothing.  The incoming messages from his family, including his 
father, went unread and were immediately deleted.  

He wondered once what he'd do when he got out of Auckland, but it 
was no more than a passing thought.  Tom couldn't have cared less.



Harry had been trying to get Tom to talk to him, but the man spoke to 
no one, save to acknowledge an order.  Harry didn't know if he was 
concerned about being reunited with his father, knowing they parted 
on bad terms, or if prison was worrying him, assuming he was sent 
back, which Janeway swore wouldn't happen, if Starfleet had half a 
brain.  Harry wondered if they'd let Tom keep his rank.  He couldn't 
imagine why the 'Fleet would let Tom go, the only man ever to have 
broken the warp ten barrier.  If they refused to grant his 
recommission, it would be sheer stupidity on their parts.  Wisely, 
Harry only let his feelings be known to B'Elanna.  Both of them 
were more than concerned enough for Tom, as he couldn't be 
bothered with any of it.

After a lot of red tape, and countless people looking over the years 
of logs, the general consensus was that Voyager had a crew that had 
withstood incredible  hardship, beaten the odds, and emerged intact. 
Like the crew didn't know that, already.

Interviews were scheduled with the crew individually, both 'Fleet and 
Maquis, to determine what should be done with them all.  The 
Captain spoke at great length with everyone in authority, telling them 
that whatever their personal beliefs, Voyager would not have 
returned without the Maquis on board, that they were just as much a 
vital part of the ship as the original Starfleet crew had been.  What 
seemed to impress the Starfleet authorities the most was how long it 
took for people to remember who were originally 'Fleet and who 
were Maquis.

Throughout it all, Tom simply waited until the time for his interview.  
When it arrived, he wasn't nervous or worried, and that was evident 
to the three Captains and two Admirals talking to him. They 
commended him on his service to Voyager and he remained 
unmoved.  They asked intelligent questions about the warp ten flight, 
which he answered civilly, but no more. They looked at one another, 
uncertain about the man before them.  Most of the crew had spoken 
in glowing terms about Tom Paris, and they couldn't reconcile what 
they'd heard with what they were seeing.

"Mr. Paris, it is our opinion that justice would not be served in having 
you return to prison.  You have paid your debt to the Federation, in 
full," the young Captain assured him, smiling, trying to draw the man 
out.  "What we are trying to discover is whether Starfleet would 
benefit by having you recommissioned.  To do this, we need your 
input," she explained, trying to make him understand and offer his 
cooperation.

Tom nodded, looking away from all the brass in front of him, thankful 
his father was nowhere in sight.

"Captain," he said quietly, then paused.  She leaned forward to 
encourage him as well as hear him better.

"I recently lost someone very important to me," he continued, trying 
to keep his voice from cracking.  Judging from the slightly 
sympathetic looks he was receiving, he didn't think he was entirely 
successful.  "It's difficult for me to really give a damn about anything, 
right now, in light of that," he concluded, looking at the floor and 
missing their startled glances.

"Tom," the stern-looking admiral spoke quietly, "If you need time, 
you can have it.  But we need to know if you have any interest in 
serving Starfleet again."

"At this time, Admiral, no, I do not," Tom said, shuddering at the 
thought of winding up serving with Chakotay.  Gods, anything but 
that.

"In that case, Mr. Paris, we'll revoke your commission," the Admiral 
said.  "However, I recommend that we leave it open for a time, say 
two years.  A grace period, you understand.  If you change your 
mind, notify one of us and we'll talk again.  Word of your 
accomplishments has spread throughout the 'Fleet, Tom.  We've 
gotten requests from many Captains who have a place for you at 
their Conns," he smiled to his companions.  "And Research would 
love to get their hands on you, as well.  Take your time, Mr. Paris.  
And please, stay in touch."  With that they stood, and Tom went 
down the line, shaking their hands, before making his escape.

He knew it was only a matter of time before word got out that he'd 
turned down the 'Fleet.  Gods, his father would disown him all over 
again.  He made his way to the temporary housing the crew had 
been put up in, while scientists and engineers went over the ship with 
a fine-toothed comb.

Part of him knew he should track down Harry, a few others, and say 
goodbye, but he just stood in the entrance corridor, trying to get his 
bearings.  Freedom.  He knew he should be feeling relief, right now, 
but it just wasn't coming.  Not yet.  Well, what the hell was he going 
to do for the rest of his life?  Boredom had gotten him into an awful 
lot of trouble, in the past.  It was important that he avoid it, but it was 
hard to make himself care.  He supposed he could go to Marseilles, 
see Sandrine.  She deserved to know how much her holographic bar 
had sustained him these last few years.  He just wouldn't tell her 
what it had looked like the last time he'd been there.  Feeling a hand 
on his shoulder, he turned, wondering . . Harry.  Of course, it would 
be Harry.  B'Elanna and the Captain were right behind him. Judging 
from the disbelieving looks on their faces, they already knew.

"Don't look so worried, Harry.  I'll be fine," some part of him knew it 
was important to reassure his friend, but mostly he found it difficult to 
care.

"What are you going to do, now?" Harry asked gently, wishing some 
life would come back into those empty eyes.  He was trying to think 
of something, *anything* that would change Tom's mind about 
leaving the 'Fleet, when Tom spoke again.

"Oh, I'll come up with something, don't worry," Tom started when a 
voice boomed out from behind him. Any other time, it would have 
knocked him out of his skin.

"*PARIS*!"

Tom turned slowly, knowing the voice, but it was still surprising to 
that part of him that was keeping track of such things.  "Gilas," he 
breathed, as the Klingon stalked down the hall toward him, stopping 
inches from his face, before picking him up in a bone-crunching hug, 
roaring at full volume.

Tom almost laughed at the looks on his former crewmate's faces, 
before the Klingon finally put him down.  "Who the hell let you out of 
prison?" he asked, smirking slightly, as close to a smile as he could 
get.

Gilas threw his head back and laughed again.  "Hell, Paris, it's been 
four years, I've served my time.  They really didn't want me to stay 
any longer," he added, grinning, until he noticed Tom's eyes.  Damn, 
the man hadn't looked this bad in Auckland.  "What the hell 
happened to you?" he asked, seeing the smirk turn into something 
that looked like a sneer.

"The Delta Quadrant," Tom droned, hostilely, as the expressions on 
his friend's faces registered.  "Gilas, I want you to meet my former 
Captain, Kathryn Janeway," Tom introduced, missing the faint look of 
concern Janeway threw him at the word 'former'.  Gilas nodded a 
greeting, then turned his attention to B'Elanna and he smiled, a real 
smile.  Tom noticed, thinking <Oh, right. That's what they look like> 
"Lt. B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer, and Ensign Harry Kim, Ops." 
There, his duty was done.  Now, what the hell was Gilas doing here?  
Gilas tore his eyes away from B'Elanna just long enough to nod to 
Harry, and caught Tom's eyes, silently communicating his 
appreciation.  Not even a grin.  What the hell had happened to Paris?

Tom eyed him, for a moment, before explaining to his former 
crewmates.  "Gilas and I were friends at Auckland."  'Nuff said.  Tom 
wondered at Harry's sudden stiffening and protective look.  "We 
looked out for each other," he added, looking at Harry, who relaxed a 
bit.

"What are you doing here?" Tom asked, curiosity deep enough to 
peak his interest.

"Arranging a jail-break, if they hadn't let you go," Gilas said, grinning, 
before it faded from his face at Tom's lack of response.  "Most of us 
are out, now, the whole gang, and we are about to embark on 
something I knew you would want to be a part of," he said, hoping to 
draw some interest from his old friend.  "And what would that be?" 
Tom asked, wondering if it was something that would land him right 
back in prison, before he realized it didn't really matter one way or 
the other.

"My father died a while back," Gilas began, waving their sympathy 
away, "and he left me well cared-for in terms of material needs and 
favors owed.  I've been collecting," he said, his flashing eyes giving 
Tom a glimpse of the ruthlessness he remembered, "and I have 
something you are going to find . . fascinating."

"And what would that be?" Tom repeated, more out of politeness 
than interest.

"A spacedock," Gilas finished, softly, waiting for the light to flare in 
Tom's eyes.  Almost, just a spark, but it was enough to give Gilas 
hope than the dreamer he remembered was still in residence inside 
the shell of a man standing before him. "We're trying to find 
someone who might have a use for it, as I believe you do, if I 
remember correctly."

A large part of Tom's mind woke up, kicking his memory into gear. 
Gilas grinned in triumphant delight, as Harry, the Captain, and 
B'Elanna stared, watching Tom's transformation.

"I take it you wouldn't be adverse to my possibly . . building a ship?" 
Tom asked cautiously, not wanting to hope, not wanting to care, 
afraid that yet another door would be slammed in his face, another 
dream crumble to dust at his feet.

"Adverse?" Gilas snarled.  "I'm *counting* on it!" he finished, seeing 
his old friend's eyes light up.  Not like he remembered, but certainly 
an improvement.

"The Integrity?" Tom whispered, as Gilas' heavy hand clapped onto 
his shoulder.

"The Integrity," Gilas crowed, thumping both closed fists on Tom's 
shoulders, laughing.

Tom turned away, running his hands over his face in disbelief.  His 
mind was working so frantically, he didn't notice Chakotay standing 
off to one side.  He spun back around toward his friend.

"Do you have any *idea* how much trouble we can get into with that 
ship?" he asked in malicious glee, as Gilas laughed.

"Nothing we can't out-run, out-gun, and out-fly, *Captain*," Gilas 
said, nodding as Tom began shaking his head.

"No, no, no.  Oh, no.  Not me," Tom protested, before Gilas took his 
chin in his hand, lasering him with his eyes.

"*YES*," Gilas growled.  "It's *your* ship, Paris.  The Pilot's chair is 
the Captain's chair, remember?"

"Yeah, but that was a dream shot, Gilas, a total fantasy."

"Maybe so, but we've started on some of it already," Gilas said 
softly, "The Integrity has become *our* dream, all of us.  It's the only 
thing that's kept a lot of us out of prison, Tom.  Hell, man, we've *all* 
been waiting for you to come home, just to finish the damned thing. 
You have to take command, Tom.  No one else can," the Klingon 
said quietly, sighing in relief as Tom nodded.

"The Klingon Homeworld?" he asked, wondering where the 
spacedock was.

"Near there," Gilas acknowledged, not wanting to reveal its location 
to a bunch of 'Fleeters.  Tom grinned, when he understood the 
reason for Gilas' secrecy, and started chuckling.

"There are a couple of people I need to say hello to, first," Tom 
began, holding up a hand to forestall Gilas' objections.  "But then, I 
am all yours," he finished, missing the look on Chakotay's face at his 
words.  

"Oh, it's going to be *glorious*," Gilas crowed.  "Take care of your 
hellos and good-byes, and we'll see you in a few days.  Where will 
you be?"

"Marseilles," Tom answered quietly, seeing Gilas nod.

"Sandrine's," Gilas said, knowingly, eyes narrowing as he looked 
over Paris' shoulder.  Tom's eyes widened, as he watched his 
friend's lips curl into a sneer, before he turned around, somehow 
already knowing who it had to be.

Tom cocked his head, all expression carefully left off his face.  

"Admiral," he acknowledged, but no more. 

"Tom," his father said softly.  "I heard you made it back from the 
Delta Quadrant," he said, his voice quietly impressed.  

"A hell of a trip," Tom said stiffly, but just as softly, damned near 
standing at attention, in spite of himself.  "Remind me to tell you 
about it sometime."

Admiral Paris blinked.  "I just wanted to welcome you home; we're all 
relieved to have you back in one piece," he said, awkwardly, trying to 
span a rift of years in a few minutes.  "You're off again, so soon?" he 
asked.

"I'm off to chase a dream, Admiral," Tom said, his voice perfectly 
nonchalant.

"I hope you catch it, Son," the senior Paris said, with quiet sincerity.

"Thank you, Sir," Tom replied, effectively dismissing him, before 
turning to Harry, giving his friend a quick, hard hug.  "I've got to get 
going, Har.  Watch yourself out there, okay?  I won't be at your back 
anymore," he said, stunning Harry with a genuine smile.

"You too, Tom," Harry said huskily.  "Be careful."

"*Harry*," Tom said with playful indignation,  "I'm always careful."  He 
turned to B'Elanna, intending to just say good-bye, and found her in 
his arms.

"Take care of yourself, Paris," she said gruffly, as Tom stroked her 
cheek.  Just this once, she'd let him get away with it.

"If I can't, I'll just have to find someone who can," he said in a 
flirtatious tone she hadn't heard in years.

"Pig," she said, fondly, snorting, as he grinned.

"Captain," Tom stopped, turning towards Janeway, as words 
escaped him for once.  "I want to say 'thank you'," he said, "but, it 
seems so inadequate."

Janeway shook her head.  "I'm so sorry Starfleet didn't work out for 
you, Tom," she said, determined not to get emotional.

"Starfleet and I simply weren't meant to be, Captain," Tom said, with 
badly feigned regret.  "But, thanks," he smiled.  "See you around the 
universe," he finished, touching her shoulder, before turning back to 
Gilas.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chakotay, but ignored 
him.  It still hurt too damned much and the last thing he wanted was 
to lose it in front of his father.  "Come on, Gilas, I'll walk you to your 
shuttle," as he clapped the Klingon on the back, and headed down 
the corridor, the two of them talking animatedly about how much 
progress Tom's old friends had made, making his dream-ship a 
reality.

The Admiral watched his son vanish from sight before he stepped 
forward, catching Janeway's eyes.  "Kathryn, it's good to see you 
back safe and sound."

"Thank you, Gene, it's good to be home. We never would have 
made it, without Tom.  I can't help but wonder at his decision.  The 
man is a hell of a pilot, he should be flying," she groused, making her 
former Captain grin.

"He will be flying," Harry reminded her, "as soon as he gets his ship 
built."

The Admiral looked astonished.  "The Integrity?" he asked, amazed, 
as they all nodded.  "My gods, he's been building that ship in his 
head since he was twelve.  So, he's finally got the chance to put her 
together," he said, thoughtfully, staring down the corridor Tom had 
taken when he left.  He shook himself out of his reverie.

"Kathryn," he began slowly, "Would you have some free time 
tonight?  I'd . . " he trailed off, before the steel in his blue eyes 
reformed, giving him the courage to continue, "I'd like to hear about 
my son."

"I'd be delighted, Gene," the Captain said gently, pleased at the 
effort the man was making. "Oh, the stories I could tell you," she 
grinned, prompting an uncertain laugh out of him. 

"I'll reach you later, then," the Admiral said, taking her hand gently, 
before heading off down the corridor, knowing he had a lot of people 
to get hold of, before dinner.


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


Gilas had nodded with pride, seeing the delight and excitement in his 
old friend's eyes as he had made his way around the dock, greeting 
his crew.  Familiar faces, all, and not just from prison.  Talec, of 
Vulcan, had shocked the hell out of Tom, when the man first saw 
him. He was going to be their chief medical officer, as soon as he 
got done building sickbay to his exacting specifications.

The two of them hadn't laid eyes on each other since the days Tom 
had spent pickling himself in Sandrine's, pouring out his tale of woe 
to anyone who'd listen.  Talec and Sandrine were old friends and 
Tom had intrigued the Vulcan with the ship he'd been creating in his 
head.  The Vulcan had intended to go after the man when he left to 
join the Maquis, but that first, fateful run had landed him in prison. 
Talec had met Gilas when the Klingon had gone to see Sandrine, 
after being released, eager to meet the one person Tom Paris had 
ever spoken fondly of in Auckland, and talks had led to plans. 

Even though no one knew what had happened to Paris, the Klingon 
and the Vulcan had kept their eyes open for others who had been 
fascinated by the tales of Tom's ship.  They'd begun getting 
supplies and equipment together, helped by Gilas' credits and 
mutual sources.  

Tom had been amazed at how much his friends had remembered 
and acquired and, after the excitement of his arrival had died down, 
they had immediately gotten back to work.  As many of them as there 
were, it hadn't taken many months at all to complete the shell of the 
ship and make significant inroads on the rest of it.  Some of them 
were former 'Fleet, some Maquis, and Tom saw how this crew had 
the potential to work the same magic Voyager had. A lot of what they 
were using as schematics had been done by Tom, secretly, on 
Voyager.  Every improvement, alteration, and new technology had 
been carefully documented, even the ones that hadn't worked.  Tom 
had turned over some logs of the EMH's to Talec, so the Vulcan 
could program his holographic assistant.

Now, the Integrity's Captain had been going over other medical logs 
when he found something.  Something that shouldn't have been 
there.  Tom worked with it for hours, hoping against hope that he was 
wrong about what he was seeing, and came to the conclusion that 
his original fears were completely valid.  Damn.  He knew that most 
of the Maquis, and a few of the old 'Fleeters were anxious to go 
gunning for the Cardassians and now it looked like they had another 
stop to make, first.  Gilas hated the Cardassians, most Klingons did, 
and a lot of the crew saw the Integrity as being a very large weapon 
of vengeance. 

Tom sighed.  They weren't the only ones.  He'd been stunned and 
pissed when he realized that a lot of the advanced weaponry and 
engine equipment they'd acquired had come from his father.  He'd 
gotten a hold of the Admiral to find out exactly what the hell the older 
Paris had thought he was doing and they had talked, like adults, for 
the first time in as long as he could remember.  A tentative step 
towards reconciliation had been taken and they spoke often. 

Both men had laid down their arms and worked together to make 
Tom's dream a reality.  Gene Paris had begun coming out to the 
dock on occasion, then more frequently, as relations between them 
grew warmer.  Tom had seen more of the man in the last six months 
than he had in any six-year period of his life.  He knew how much his 
father hated the Cardassians, and seemed to take for granted the 
fact that Tom was to be some sort of angel of retribution, for him.  An 
odd alliance, to be sure.  Much of the technology they were installing 
had been taken from the Klingons, the Romulans, the Vulcans, and 
the Cardassians.  They even had some Borg components running 
around, including the shielding.  So, even the very ship itself was an 
odd alliance, as was her crew.  Of which he was the Captain.  How to 
tell them about the change in plans now was not an easy thing for 
him to think about.  Tom was interrupted from his musing by the 
door-chime.  He grinned when Gilas walked in.

"How are the quarters?" the Klingon asked, glancing around at the 
padds and clothes strewn everywhere, half a dozen computers on, 
the general mess. He'd never seen Tom look happier.

"Perfect," Tom answered.  The Captain's quarters were directly off 
the bridge, it had made a lot of sense at the time. 

Gilas paused in his mission to inform his captain about the newest 
engine modifications; something was troubling the man. "What is it?" 
he asked, sitting down in the chair across from his friend. 

"I've found something I can't leave alone, Gilas," Tom said with 
regret, hoping his friend *and* First Officer would understand.

Gilas listened as Tom explained over the next hour, then whistled 
softly as the tale drew to a close.  "Damn," he swore softly.  "We're 
going, aren't we?"

"The Cardassians," Tom began, when Gilas cut him off.

". . Will still be here when we get back," Gilas said firmly. "We can 
make their lives miserable *then*."

Tom snorted, before grinning.  "How do you think the crew will take 
the change in plans?" Tom queried.

Gilas shook his head.  "You are the Captain of this ship.  We go 
where you tell us to.  *Sir*," he finished nearly growling, but grinning.

"The new engine design," Tom reminded him. "How does it look?"

"With the added improvements, the Borg components your father 
got us, and the increased output, it brings our top speed to warp nine 
point nine, nine, nine," Gilas informed him, grinning at Tom's 
delightfully stunned look.  "We can be where we need to be in about 
four months, tops.  A faster ship than this one doesn't exist, Tom," 
Gilas gloated.  "Sensors are online, four times stronger than anything 
the Federation has, the weapons can take out whatever we fire them 
at, and the shields can withstand an attack by the Borg long enough 
for us to get the hell away from them," he concluded.

"Out-run and out-gun," Tom said thoughtfully, leaning back against 
the cushions on the couch.

"And with you at the Conn, out-fly," Gilas reminded him. 

"Let's go inform the crew," Tom decided.  "We're going to the Delta 
Quadrant."


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


It had been nearly a year and a half since Harry had last seen Tom 
and it was times like these when he wished the man was still at 
Voyager's Conn.  The uneasy truce with the Cardassians was all but 
shattered and skirmishes were breaking out everywhere.  Usually 
wherever Voyager happened to be.  The Cardassians were well 
aware of the fact that so many of the crew were former Maquis and 
seemed to actively engage them, provocation available at the drop 
of a hat.  Their current pilot was good, but nowhere near as good as 
Tom had been.

Janeway sighed.  Three hostile Cardassian ships stood in front of 
her and, according to Lt. Kim's sensors, six more were on the way. 
Janeway looked back at Harry, over Chakotay's shoulder and smiled. 
The pips on his collar were yet another reminder of Tom.  They had 
been his. Harry had found them in his quarters when he'd returned to 
Voyager after Starfleet's finest had repaired her battle damage.  
Tom had left a message wishing him all the luck they'd ever brought 
him. Considering how many times Tom had come through by the 
skin of his teeth, that was saying something.  Harry wore them 
proudly.

Janeway was getting a little sick of the posturing the Gul was doing 
for her benefit.  The Cardassians were in their way, but if they went 
around, the slight would be taken and firing would commence. 
Voyager's Captain had little doubt they'd do it anyway, just because 
they could.

"Back off Lieutenant, nice and slow," Janeway ordered her pilot, 
when the blow came from the ship on their right, and the fire-fight 
was on.  Damn, she missed Tuvok at Tactical, as well, but her 
Vulcan friend was on his home planet, anticipating the birth of his 
fourth child.

"Captain," Harry's voice sang out, over the din on the bridge.  "The 
six Cardassian ships that were headed our way have been 
destroyed.  Whatever it was that got them is coming toward us, 
moving *incredibly* fast," he informed them, looking up to meet her 
eyes.

"Whose ship is it, Harry?" Chakotay asked.

"I can't tell, Sir, I've never seen anything like it, but it'll be here in 
seconds," he warned.

Janeway was stunned.  "Harry, you said those other six ships were 
an hour away," she reminded him quietly.

"I know, Captain, but this ship is traveling faster than warp nine point 
nine," Harry looked up, shrugging at her surprise, when their 
attention was drawn to the weapon firing from their starboard side, 
slicing through the Cardassian ships like a razor, and all that was left 
was debris after the resulting explosions.

The new visitor was a thing of beauty, clean lines and curves, and 
totally alien.

Janeway took a deep breath when Harry announced, "They're hailing 
us."

"On screen," Janeway said quietly, turning around to the viewscreen 
before she gasped aloud.

"Hello, again, Captain," Tom Paris said cheerfully.  "Everybody all 
right?" he asked, checking his sensors to find out had damaged 
Voyager was.  Not too bad.

"We're fine, Tom," Janeway said, a beaming smile on her face.  "Oh, 
it's so *good* to see you again."

Tom's face softened as he returned her smile.  "You, too Captain," 
he replied, looking behind her to Harry.

"Well, well, well, *Lieutenant*," he drawled as Harry laughed.  "How 
are you, Harry?" he asked.

"Never better," his friend answered, chipper as always.  Ah, the 
constants of the universe.

"Chakotay," Tom said quietly, taking a deep breath.  Gods, this was 
going to be hard.  "Hello, Tom," the Commander replied softly. 
Damn, the man looked good, Chakotay thought, knowing how much 
he'd missed him.  Tom swallowed, looking suddenly uncomfortable. 
"Chakotay," he started slowly,  "We need to talk."

Chakotay looked puzzled and his gaze flew to the Captain's, who 
caught how awkward that simple request had made him feel.

"Why don't you come over for dinner, Tom?" Janeway asked, trying 
to get them both on neutral territory, among friends.

Tom compromised.  He wanted Chakotay as at ease as possible, 
but the talking had to be done on the Integrity.  "I have a better idea, 
why don't you come over here? I can show off my ship," he added 
wickedly, prompting a laugh from the Captain.

Janeway looked at Chakotay, who nodded subtly.  Tom missed 
nothing.

"The Commander, Harry, B'Elanna and I will beam over in a few 
minutes, as soon as we've settled things here," the Captain informed 
him, relieved when Tom nodded.

"See you shortly," Tom said quietly, answering her but his gaze was 
on the Commander.

Tom had them beam over using the transporters right off the 
Integrity's bridge.  He had to grin at the look on Gilas' face when he 
saw B'Elanna again.

"Anything on sensors?" he asked, just to make sure they weren't 
going to be interrupted.

"Nothing for days around, Captain," Gilas answered, as Voyager's 
crew gaped.

Tom shrugged.  "Our sensors are . . rather impressive," he said 
simply, grinning as he showed them into the Captain's lounge off his 
quarters.  "I thought dinner first, then you can get the grand tour after 
we talk," quietly said as he looked at Chakotay. 

Dinner was delicious and provided them with a wonderful opportunity 
to catch up, but Tom was deliberately being vague about his ship's 
recent adventures until everyone had finished eating.

"Okay, give.  Where the hell have you been for the last year?  We 
heard, from your father, that the Integrity was finished then you just 
disappeared," Harry groused, knowing from the look in his friend's 
eyes that there was a hell of a story here. 

"There was something I had to take care of," Tom began idly playing 
with his napkin, "In the Delta Quadrant."

Various versions of "What?!" and "Are you nuts?" flew around the 
table, before Tom held a hand up, quieting them.

"I found something when I was going over the old logs of Voyager's 
EMH, copies I'd had, which I gave to *our* doctor, here, to help him 
configure sickbay.  What I found was from around the time that 
Seska and the Kazon took over Voyager.  It was a data loop, a small 
one, that had apparently been running since Seska destroyed the 
Doc's emitter, and some of his program." 

Tom stood, walked behind his chair to the desk, and pushed a 
couple of buttons.  A DNA strand appeared on the viewer.  "This is 
the DNA of Seska's child.  What caught my attention was this symbol 
down here," he pointed to the lower corner.  "It indicates that part of 
the DNA was recorded from an earlier source and pasted onto what 
was originally here," his eyes met Chakotay's.  

"It's my fault, Chakotay.  I remember telling the Doctor that there 
were times when a physician needed to . . not exactly lie, but not 
give a patient the whole truth, either.  I told him you don't want to tell 
a patient anything that will make them quit fighting or force them to 
lose hope. He understood that there times when the total truth would 
only serve to hurt. And he decided this was one of those times.  The 
DNA he pasted onto this sequence had been recorded from the 
Kazon who exploded.  If Seska had been paying attention, she 
would have seen it.  What it had been pasted *over* was something I 
couldn't find," he paused, seeing the realization in everyone's eyes.

"It might have been some illness that he choose not to tell her about. 
A sequencing error that would eventually kill her child.  It could have 
been anything.  But one thing stood out.  He used *copied* Kazon 
DNA.  And if the child had *been* part Kazon, he wouldn't have had 
to do that," Tom stopped, seeing Chakotay pale.  "So, we went 
looking for Cullah.  And we found him.  He was . . not thrilled," Tom 
grinned slightly in memory, before he walked around the table and 
knelt next to Chakotay.

"We also found a half-Cardassian, half-human child, Chakotay," Tom 
said softly, putting a hand on his former lover's shoulder when the 
man's face dropped into his hands.  He forced himself to ignore how 
good it felt just to touch him again.  "We found your son.  He's fine. 
They didn't abuse him, they just . . . ignored him. But he saw a lot 
that a seven-year-old shouldn't have had to see.  He wasn't speaking 
when we brought him here.  He'd learned early on there that no one 
would listen.  It took a while.  Hell," Tom snorted gently, rubbing 
Chakotay's back as the man leaned on his elbows on the table, "It 
took months. But he talks now.  A lot," Tom smiled, his heart 
breaking as tear-filled eyes lifted to meet his.  All he wanted to do 
was take the man into his arms and kiss the tears away, but he 
shook himself out of it, and went on.

"He didn't have an easy time of it, at first. He stayed with me from the 
beginning, didn't sleep much, and when he did, gods, the most awful 
nightmares.  He started calling me 'Daddy'.  I tried to discourage 
him, but it's impossible to deny a terrified seven-year-old anything 
when he looks at you with tears in his eyes," he said quietly, looking 
at the same eyes now, just older.  "Usually he calls me Tom.  It's 
only when he's upset or scared that he calls me 'Daddy'.

"What do you call him?" Chakotay choked out. "What's his name?"

Tom sighed.  "He asked me that same question.  It was the first thing 
he said.  'What's my name?'  The Kazon hadn't bothered to give him 
one.  We tried out a few, but he didn't go for any of them, so I started 
telling him as much about you and your people as I had in the 
computers, then he dug into the files on his own.  I was hoping he'd 
find something he liked.  And he did.  He was grinning when he 
found it.  He choose 'Parrin'.  'Parry' is the acceptable nickname.  I 
don't know what it means, he wouldn't tell me. He just smiled when 
he said it," Tom paused when Chakotay looked away.  "What is it?" 
Tom asked quietly.

"In the language of my people, it's a variation of your last name," 
Chakotay said softly.  "The possessive of it, actually.  'Of, or 
belonging to, Paris'."

Damn.  Tom took a deep breath.  "Oh, that kid is sneaky, I'll give him 
that," Tom groused fondly, before he saw how much it bothered 
Chakotay.  "Listen to me. He knows you're his father, he knows he's 
part Cardassian.  He has known from the day he got here, practically, 
that I had gone after him to bring him back to you."

"He's bonded to you," Chakotay said quietly, mournfully.

"And he'll bond to you," Tom protested softly.  "Chakotay, *you* are 
his father, not me. He belongs with you."

Chakotay ran his hands over his head and sighed.  He had a son. 
And the man who had once been his lover was responsible for 
bringing him home.  Gods.  His attention returned to Tom when the 
other man spoke.

"There are some things you need to be aware of.  Parry is brilliant. 
Damn, the kid's so smart he scares me, sometimes.  He's reading at 
a level twice his age, now, and he couldn't read at all when he got 
here. He loves math and science.  He gets bored *very* easily.  Oh, 
yeah, one more thing," Tom grinned, "He wants to be a pilot."  He 
laughed when Chakotay chuckled, weakly, but still a chuckle.  "Don't 
know *where* he got *that* from," Tom said, all innocent perplexity, 
before he sobered.  "But, he's good, really good.  He's mastered the 
sims I did my first year at the academy," Tom smiled gently at 
Chakotay's shocked look.  The man knew Tom had written a few of 
his own, as the standard fare available to first-year cadets was far 
below his abilities.  "He's still small for his age, so he has problems 
reaching all the controls, but he's growing like crazy.  It won't be a 
problem for much longer."

"He's socializing well, talking to everyone, learning from everyone. 
Gilas is one of his favorites, he's nuts about Klingons," this said with 
a smile for B'Elanna.  "This crew is such a mix, he's gotten a little bit 
of almost everything, here. He knows about the Maquis and 
Starfleet," Tom sighed, looking down.  "I have tried to keep him 
open-minded about the Cardassians, they're his people, too, but he 
doesn't understand them.  He shares Gilas' belief that they have no 
honor. I haven't told him about how he was conceived, or why.  It 
wouldn't have helped his view of them any.  I just told him that you 
and his mother used to be together, and it didn't work out.  He knows 
she died.  I told him you didn't know he was yours, or we would never 
have left him in the Delta Quadrant.  Whatever else you tell him is up 
to you.  I didn't lie to him and if he had asked me point-blank 
questions, I would have told him the truth.  But, he didn't, so *I* 
didn't."

"Chakotay, he's a wonderful kid," Tom said, his voice soft.  "He's 
absolutely beautiful." <Just like his father> Tom thought, and paused 
when the door slid open and he stood, walking around the table just 
before a small boy, running at near-warp, launched himself into 
Tom's arms.

"Oof," Tom grunted, before laughing and swinging Parry around, 
giving him a zerbert on the neck before sitting back in his seat, 
settling the child on his lap, facing him.

"I haven't seen you much today, what have you been up to?" Tom 
asked, smiling, as he reached over to grab his plate so Parry could 
snatch a vegetable off it.

"Garmon and I have been playing with the conduits.  He let me into 
the jefferies tube to realign the phase inducers, but I had to get out 
when we blew up the Cardassian ships," he said excitedly.  "And I 
helped Talec in sickbay.  He said it was useful for him to learn 
patience, and he said I taught him plenty, today.  It was fun," he 
grabbed another vegetable, bit into it and frowned.

"Don't like the yellow ones, huh?" Tom confirmed, as Parry shook his 
head, getting another orange one.  Everyone around the table could 
see the tender look Tom gave the boy as he brushed his dark brown 
hair out of his eyes and Chakotay felt his gut clench.

Parry yawned and turned around, seeing everybody for the first time. 
He looked at them all curiously before his eyes lit on Chakotay and 
widened.  He whispered to Tom and Tom nodded.

"Hello," Parry said, yawning again, leaning back on Tom's chest, 
looking sleepy and adorable.

"Hello," Chakotay all but whispered.

"You're my father, aren't you?" he asked, cocking his head, his 
mannerisms so like Tom's that Chakotay had to smile.

"Yes, I am.  I'm Chakotay," he said quietly, looking at the child.  He 
looked almost completely human, except for the faint indentation, 
typical of his mother's people, on his forehead.  Parry's skin was a 
little darker than his, but not the usual Cardassian grey, and his eyes 
were the same color as his own.  Tom was right.  The boy was 
beautiful.

Parry looked up at Tom, before nestling his head under the man's 
chin.  Tom stroked his hair, pausing to hear the boy's quiet voice.

"That means I have to leave, soon.  Doesn't it?" Parry asked, 
missing the way Tom flinched as though he'd been struck, before 
blinking away tears and nodding against the child's head. No one 
else around the table could *possibly* have missed it.

"Yes, it does," Tom said, his voice a croak.  "We talked about this, 
remember?"

"I know," Parry said sadly.  "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

Tom grinned shakily.  "You'll like it.  Your father's a wonderful guy," 
he said softly, smiling at Chakotay over the top of Parry's head. "And 
Voyager is a great ship."

Parry looked up at him, all excited again.  "Will they let me fly her?"

Tom laughed.  "I don't know about that, but all the simulations I did 
are probably still there," he looked up, seeing Janeway nod in 
confirmation.  "You could play around with those."

Parry shook his head and settled back again, laying his head on 
Tom's shoulder.  "It's not the same," he sighed, disappointed.  "I fly 
the Integrity," he groused, quietly.

Tom chuckled.  "And you do a wonderful job," he said fondly, sighing 
as small arms came around him tightly.

"I don't want to go," Parry said innocently, not aware of the two 
different reactions his remark caused, although they shared the 
same pain.

"I will be nearby, always," Tom promised, his eyes shut.  "There isn't 
anywhere Voyager can go, in this Quadrant, that's more a few days 
away.  Not for the Integrity.  Okay?" he bargained.

"No, it's not okay," Parry said.  "But it'll have to do, I guess."

Chakotay tried to meet Tom's eyes over Parry's head, but the man 
refused to look at him. He could understand his pain, he really could, 
but his delight at having his son back, and the anticipated joy of 
getting to know him, was overwhelming.

Tom glanced up to find Harry looking at him sorrowfully.  And with 
more than average concern in his eyes.  He attempted a smile, but 
the effort just wasn't there.  He felt Parry snuffle against his shirt and 
wrapped his arms around him automatically.

"You're going to be fine," Tom tried to assure the child, knowing that 
it would be a long time before he, himself, was fine. He'd known this 
day was coming since they'd gotten Chakotay's son back, the 
Integrity's powerful transporters whisking him away from Cullah's 
ship before the Kazon could react.  He'd tried so hard not to get too 
attached to the boy, but it had been impossible.  Attachment was 
exactly what Parry had needed to bring him out of the silent, 
protective shell in which he'd encased himself.  

Parry nodded at Tom's statement, knowing the man didn't *want* him 
to go.  But, his father was on another ship, and his place was with 
him. It wasn't fair, but he was going to try to be brave.

"Come on," Tom said quietly, not able to bear delaying the inevitable 
any longer.  He stood, still unwilling to look at Chakotay and headed 
out of his quarters with the little boy's hand in his. They met Gilas on 
the bridge and Tom asked him to show his former crewmates 
around, silently asking for time alone with Parry.

Chakotay watched Parry watch Tom, looking for any sign of 
reluctance on his part.  He saw how Tom shortened the strides of his 
long legs, to allow the boy to keep up without having to trot.  And he 
saw how Tom refused to release the child's hand. As they headed to 
the 'lift with Gilas, he saw Tom pick up Parry again, eyes shut and 
face tight with grief and he tried to breathe around the lump in his 
throat.  The 'lift doors swooshed close as Tom carried Parry into his 
quarters, setting him down with a kiss before he started getting the 
boy's things together.

Tom saw how lost Parry looked and headed for the rocking chair, 
holding his arms open.  Parry flew into them, his shaky hold on 
bravery wavering for a moment. Tom just held him for a while, 
rocking him silently, as he had so often before.  He smiled, 
remembering the number of times Gilas had entered his quarters to 
speak with him and found them asleep together in the chair, his arms 
wrapped protectively around the small body within them, keeping 
him safe and sound.  

Parry raised his head and saw Tom's smile.  It couldn't be that bad, if 
Tom was smiling.  He answered it with one of his own and hopped 
down, knowing it was time to pack.

Tom moved slowly, watching the child gather his things together.  He 
remembered Parry's reactions to everything he'd ever been given, 
the uncertain, cautious wonder on his small face, then the delight in 
his dark eyes when he realized they were really for him.  Toys, 
clothes, padds filled with stories Tom had read to him, they all went 
into the satchel.

Parry looked around for his favorite stuffed animal, the brown, furry 
targ that Gilas had given him, but he couldn't find it.  He shrugged to 
himself.  Maybe Tom would need it more than he would.  Sighing, he 
looked up to find Tom's affectionate gaze on him. He'd always liked 
Tom's eyes.  They were the first blue eyes he'd ever seen.  Warm, 
open, friendly.  It was the eyes that had first gotten his attention.  So 
bright and clear; nothing could be hidden in them, not that Tom had 
ever tried to hide anything from him.  But they were so honest, and 
believable.  When Tom had said he wouldn't be hurt, he had looked 
into those eyes and known the man was telling him the truth.  When 
Tom had said he was safe, he had believed him then, too.  And 
when Tom had said he loved him, there had been no doubt about it. 
He'd believed him. Tom said he'd be okay, now, leaving the only 
place he'd ever been safe, and happy, and loved.  *Tom* said it.  So, 
it must be true.

Tom looked down to see Parry gazing up at him so trustingly and felt 
the cold grip around his heart tighten.  He sat on the bed, next to 
Parry, and instantly had the child in his lap.

"All ready?" Tom asked quietly, knowing his voice wasn't capable of 
full volume.

Parry nodded.  "Yeah," he whispered.  "Time to go, huh?" he asked, 
tears in his voice.

"Yeah," Tom whispered back, matching tears in his. "I love you, 
Parrin," he said firmly, drawing away to see Parry's face. "Don't you 
*ever* forget that, you hear me?" he finished, brokenly, not 
remembering the last time he'd felt so empty and hurt.

Parry nodded and tightened his arms around Tom, small chin resting 
on the man's strong shoulder.  When Tom used his full name, he 
knew he meant business.  "I love you, too, Daddy," he answered 
tearfully, feeling Tom shudder.

They remained like that for a long moment, then Tom eased back, 
kissed Parry on the head, and grabbed the cases that contained 
everything the boy owned in the world.  Taking the small hand in his, 
they headed for the transporter.

The door opened upon their arrival and Gilas came through, leading 
Voyager's crew.  Tom couldn't even look at them, not really, his gaze 
slid from one to the next, not wanting to see the sympathy in their 
eyes.  He was vaguely aware of making the correct responses to 
their desire to see him again, their wishes of luck and happiness, but 
he didn't really hear them.  He managed to hand Parry's satchels to 
Chakotay without ever meeting the man's eyes, and fondly ruffled 
Parry's hair. He nodded absently to Gilas, who began the transporter 
sequence, and smiled slightly as he waved good-bye to the little boy 
right before he slowly disappeared from sight.  Once he was gone, 
the smile vanished as well and he stood quietly.

Gilas knew better than to interrupt and simply waited, silently, for his 
Captain to give his next order.  He wasn't prepared for what he saw 
when the man turned to him and his eyes locked onto his own.

"The Cardassians are still out there, huh, Gilas?" Tom asked stonily, 
voice colder than his eyes.

"Yes, Captain," Gilas answered quietly.

Tom nodded.  "Then, let's go find the sons of bitches."  And with 
that, he turned on his heel and strode onto the bridge, assuming his 
position at Conn, before entering some likely coordinates and taking 
off as fast as his ship could fly. 


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


Janeway sighed, sipping her coffee.  The last few weeks had 
certainly been a period of adjustment for them all, for a variety of 
reasons, not the least of which was Chakotay's son, Parrin.

The boy had quickly gotten into the good graces of nearly everyone 
on the ship.  He was intelligent, bordering on precocious, possessed 
of a wicked sense of humor, which he could only have gotten from 
Tom Paris, and obviously unhappy. 

Tom had made himself scarce, to allow Parrin to fully adjust and 
acclimate himself to his new surroundings *and* his father.  Janeway 
understood *why* he was doing it, but it pained her to hear from 
Chakotay about how religiously the little boy checked his messages 
every day, waiting for one from Tom.  The man did write, long, 
entertaining missives that caught Parrin up on everything he was 
missing on the Integrity, but something was lacking in them.  And it 
wasn't just the fact that they were all written and not visual, either. 
Any bit of heart or warmth was totally missing.  Humorous though 
they were, they were almost . . cold.  Distant.

Janeway knew how much it hurt Chakotay to see the outgoing 
messages, to see his son address another man as 'Daddy'.  Parrin 
called Chakotay 'Father', but that was as close as he was willing to 
go.  What bothered the Captain even more, was that Tom always 
signed his 'Tom Paris'.  Not 'Tom'.  Not 'Daddy'.  His full name, every 
time.  As though he was deliberately trying to maintain his distance 
from Parrin.

And now they had something else to deal with.  Something she 
hadn't yet brought to Chakotay's attention, but would soon have to. 
Starfleet had informed her just this morning about a ship that was 
decimating the Cardassian fleet. One capable of incredible speed, 
seemingly invulnerable shields and lethal weapons.  Ship after ship 
was reported destroyed with no warning whatsoever, before the 
invader took off, leaving no trace.  The Cardassians had protested 
vehemently, crying genocide, even though only the military was 
currently under attack, saying it was a Starfleet tactic, cowardly and 
inexcusable.  A vicious ploy to force Cardassia back to the 
negotiating tables and accept a totally unacceptable treaty.  Starfleet 
wanted her crew to check it out and report back on their findings. 

She was willing to bet she knew who was responsible, but the level 
of violence involved appalled her. What the *hell* was Tom doing? 
And why?  His letters had made no mention of it, and although Gilas 
had dropped the fact, in a message to B'Elanna, that Tom was 
certainly keeping the Klingons and Bajorans busy, he hadn't gone 
into any further detail.  Maybe heading toward the Klingon 
homeworld would get them started on obtaining some much-needed 
answers.

Janeway headed out of her ready room to inform the Conn of their 
new destination and called a staff meeting to brief the crew on the 
way.  Hopefully, they'd be able to find out what was happening, and 
how large a part Tom was playing in it.


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


Tom, meanwhile, had just finished blowing the last Cardassian ship 
in their most recent encounter out of the sky.  He grinned in 
satisfaction, but there was no delight to be found in the harsh slash 
across his face.  He sighed as he took in Gilas' expression.  

All the fun had gone out of it, that was for sure, and Gilas had been 
trying to get him to back off for the last couple of weeks.  The 
Integrity's crew and Captain had been raiding Cardassian prisons, 
liberating the various Klingons and Bajorans they'd found there, as 
well as some people from the planets in the DMZ, and, of course, 
the expected bunch of Maquis. 

They'd dropped most of them off at their own worlds, unless they no 
longer had one, then the Klingon homeworld seemed to be the best 
choice.  Many of the former prisoners needed medical attention and 
counseling and the Klingons were the most technologically able to 
provide it.  Hostilities with Cardassia were still in full force and the 
Klingons did what they could for the people the Integrity left in their 
hands, out of delight, that someone was making them miserable, and 
out of a sense of duty, because quite a few of those freed were 
Klingons.

The Integrity had also done serious damage to the Cardassian fleet, 
but there was no challenge in it anymore.  Nothing Cardassia had 
could stand against them and Tom's crew had even been getting a 
little restless.  

Tom let his hands float over the helm controls.  Maybe some 
shoreleave wouldn't be a bad thing.  His father had been spending 
an awful lot of time on the Klingon homeworld, lately.  In fact, he was 
probably near there right now.  

He nodded inwardly and input the new course heading.  His smile at 
Gilas' evident pleasure wasn't forced this time.

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


Kathryn Janeway sighed, warming her hands over a cup of what 
favorably passed for coffee.  Voyager was leaving the Klingon 
homeworld, having even more questions than answers, now.  

She'd seen the ships coming back with the injured, and the 
more-than-injured.  Most were transported to medical facilities as 
soon as they were in range.  She'd spoken with many a harried 
physician and knew that Tom was responsible for bringing these 
people back, raiding the Cardassian prison compounds, then using 
the Integrity's powerful transporters to beam their precious cargo to 
other Klingon ships, who ferried them back to their homes and 
homeworlds.  It was quite a setup, from what she'd heard. 

The Cardassians didn't know what was hitting them, but definitely 
didn't like losing some of their bargaining chips, in the forms of 
various important prisoners, to Tom's ship and crew.  Very few 
military targets had actually been hit, just those that sent ships after 
the Integrity, after said ships had been completely destroyed.

A few of the Klingons she'd talked to mentioned that the Integrity's 
favorite 'hunting ground' seemed to be along the DMZ border.  
Some Guls were intent on taking the ship out, no matter the odds 
against them and the Integrity saw alot of action there.  So, she'd set 
course for that region of space, hoping to find Tom.  Or, hoping Tom 
would find them.

"Captain," Harry's voice interrupted her reverie.

"Yes, Lieutenant," she replied quietly.

"We've got a few Cardassian ships heading our way."

"On my way," she all but barked, striding onto the Bridge.

"Report," Janeway ordered, taking her seat.

"Four ships on sensors, and closing, Captain," Harry's clear voice 
rang out.  "Their weapons systems are powered up, shields are 
raised."

"Shields up, red alert," Chakotay ordered, exhaling heavily.  Concern 
for Parry's well-being was distracting him, but he concentrated 
determinedly on doing his job.  The Captain hadn't gone into a lot of 
detail about Starfleet's orders, but he knew enough to know that 
Voyager was hunting Tom, trying to stop him in his seeming quest to 
rid the Alpha Quadrant of Cardassians.  The sheer amount of 
damage that one beautiful ship had done was amazing, and the 
numbers of individuals who owed their lives to her Captain was even 
more incredible.  He wouldn't wish a sentence in a Cardassian prison 
on his worst enemy, so he found it hard to empathize with their 
problem.  Especially since they had once *been* his worst enemy. 
He couldn't care less if Tom emptied their prisons, their coffers and 
their fleet, so long as the man didn't get himself killed.  Personally, 
he was hoping they'd find Tom, but not for the same reasons as 
Janeway.  

He wanted to see him again, yes, but, more so, he wanted to see the 
light come back into Parry's eyes.  Light that had been noticeably 
absent since the day they'd parted company.  Except for the times 
Parry had talked about Tom.  The boy was usually careful to call him 
'Tom' until he got excited.  Then the other man, Chakotay's former 
lover, became 'Daddy'.

Chakotay sighed, drawing a look from his Captain.  He met her eyes 
and grinned with what he hoped was assurance, but what was 
probably resignation.  He busied himself with some status checks 
until Lt. Kim announced the other ships were within visual range and 
Janeway ordered them onscreen.  

His gut tightened as he saw them, a conditioned response to years 
of battling them over his home, and others, from his days as a 
Maquis.  Familiar fire ignited in his veins, despite his disciplined 
effort to ignore it.  Gods, if this was what Tom felt every time he 
engaged them, no wonder he hadn't let up.

Chakotay's attention turned to the viewscreen, as he unconsciously 
sized up his adversaries.  *Their* adversaries.  He distantly noticed 
Janeway and the scowling Gul exchange words, heard the animosity 
as the Cardassian accused Voyager of starting all their problems, 
accused her of protecting enemies of Cardassia, and accused 
Starfleet of arranging the 'massacre of innocent Cardassians'.  He 
was barely able to keep himself from smiling at the audacity of the 
grey-skinned alien on the screen.  Damn.  At that moment, he *really* 
envied Tom.

Communications abruptly ceased when Janeway terminated them in 
response to the Gul's demand to show Starfleet's good faith and turn 
over the former Maquis among her crew.  The annoyed, wry grin they 
shared disappeared when the Cardassian ships began firing on 
them.  Voyager returned fire and the battle was on.

Parry bounced off the wall in the daycare when the ship was hit and 
his instincts took over.  He needed his father, and his father was on 
the bridge.  He was out the door before the adults could react, 
occupied as they were with trying to calm the other children.

He made his way to the turbolift, scowling.  Voyager wasn't a bad 
ship, but it certainly wasn't his Daddy's ship, that was for sure. 
Getting in, he sighed with impatience as the 'lift crawled slowly to the 
bridge.  The doors opened just as Voyager took another hard hit, 
sending the officer at Conn sideways into the bulkhead.  Before 
Chakotay could step forward, Parry was in the chair, sitting on one 
leg to raise himself high enough to reach all the controls and banking 
away from the phaser-fire.  Pretty easy, really. He'd done almost all 
of his Daddy's simulations and he was good enough at them, as long 
as the ship held together.  

Chakotay watched as Parry took Voyager into some of Tom's 
favorite maneuvers, staying close at hand in case it got to be too 
much for the boy.  His eyes met Janeway's and he was startled to 
see her actually smiling, shaking her head, before damage reports 
came in and her attention was directed elsewhere.  He grinned 
himself as a soft 'Boom' came from his son's lips, when the 
Lieutenant at Tactical fired a couple of clean shots, destroying one 
of the Cardassian ships and seriously damaging another.  

Voyager had taken a few hard hits, and her shields were losing 
power, when the Gul hailed them again.  Janeway didn't have much 
hope that he was willing to call an end to the hostilities and her 
concerns were valid as he took in the child seated at the Conn.  The 
obviously part *Cardassian* child.  A menacing sneer crossed his 
face, clashing with Chakotay's glare as the First Officer moved 
closer to his son, providing the support of his presence.

Communications ended as the ship opened fire, again, weakening 
the shields further.  Parry was going a remarkable job flying until a 
volley of shots hit dead on, targeting the engines and shields, and a 
transporter beam pierced Voyager, locking onto him. The last thing 
Chakotay heard was his young son's voice screaming "Daddy" just 
before he disappeared from sight.

Chakotay lunged forward, trying to get himself taken in the beam, but 
it was already gone, and Parry with it.

He looked up to see the Gul on the screen, with a glaring, yet fearful, 
Parry at his side.

"A handsome child," the Gul purred, "In spite of the obviously 
*human* characteristics.  It seems we have something new to bring 
to the bargaining table, Captain.  Fortunate, isn't it?" he sneered at 
Janeway.  "So much better to end the hostilities before anyone 
*else* gets hurt," and with this, he smiled nastily, ruffling Parry's hair, 
before the boy smacked his hand aside.

"We'll be in touch, Captain," the Gul said, before communications 
ended and the two remaining Cardassian ships took off.

"After them," Janeway gritted out, knowing her hobbled ship couldn't 
possibly keep up.

Chakotay took the Conn, setting course to follow the Cardassians, 
his heart in his throat.  All he could think about was how much better 
off his son would have been if he had remained with Tom.  The man 
loved Parry, and would have cared for him as if he was his own.  If 
anything happened to his son, *their* son, it would destroy Tom, not 
just him.  He shook himself out of the mire of his thoughts when he 
felt the Captain's hand on his shoulder, as she had done so often 
with Paris, when he had been in this chair, flying her ship.

"We'll get him back safely, Commander," she said softly, and he was 
grateful to hear the steel in her voice.

"If we don't, there won't be a Cardassian still breathing in this 
quadrant by the time Tom's through," Chakotay said, with something 
like pride, Janeway noted.  She nodded, going back to her chair after 
giving Chakotay's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  She missed his 
next, nearly silent comment.

"And I'll do everything in my power to help him accomplish that," 
Chakotay muttered coldly, checking their course based on Harry's 
findings, hands going over the same controls that Tom's had known 
so well.  Those same hands that had known *him* so well.  He 
sighed deeply, wondering why his mind was choosing *now* to 
torture him with the memories of how they used to be together.

Harry was frantically working on getting Voyager back together, while 
keeping a sensor peeled for the Integrity.  After many tense 
moments, his triumphant "*Yes*!" brought Janeway and Chakotay's 
heads around.

"I've got the Integrity and she's moving fast, coming this way," Harry 
informed them hurriedly, before automatically opening a comm 
channel, then getting back in touch with engineering.

Tom's worried smile vanished as he took in Chakotay's expression.

"I heard you were trying to find me.  Are you all right, what's wrong?" 
he asked, slowly, knowing before he opened his mouth that he 
wasn't going to like the news.  He eyes locked onto Chakotay's, 
willing him to answer.

"The Cardassians have our son," Chakotay said in a low, deadly 
voice, surprising the hell out of Janeway.  "We lost shields in a battle 
and they stole him off the bridge."  He watched as Tom's eyes 
hardened into blue ice.

"Do you need crew to help with repairs?" Tom offered, making sure 
Voyager was in no immediate, dire need.

Janeway was shaking her head, about to answer when Chakotay 
spoke again.

"Go get him," he said softly, with a menace Tom hadn't heard in 
years.

"Do you want to come with me?" Tom asked, seriously hoping that 
Chakotay would say 'yes'.

Chakotay actually had to think about it, Janeway noted, before he 
shook his head.  

"My place is here," Chakotay replied, though everyone could hear 
the hesitation and reluctance in his voice.

"Are you *sure*?" Tom asked.

Chakotay nodded.  "Go, please," he pleaded softly.  "Bring him back 
to me. Again."

Tom nodded and with a flash of a grin to Janeway and Harry, the 
Integrity sped away.

Chakotay felt the Captain move behind him, but he still nearly 
jumped when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"They don't stand a chance," she said quietly, but with satisfaction.

Chakotay nodded, clearing his throat.  "I know."  And his satisfaction 
more than matched her own.


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


Tom pulled every ounce of speed he could out of the Integrity's 
engines, as his ship and crew went tearing after the Cardassians, 
following them easily with their enhanced sensors.  He brought them 
up on visual as soon as Gilas gave the word, just to watch a weapon 
fire and hit home, obliterating their shields.  Transporters locked onto 
the only lifeform with human genes aboard the enemy ship and 
beamed him directly to the bridge, to Tom's side.

Parry's eyes and smile couldn't have gotten much larger as he threw 
himself into Tom's arms, crying out "Daddy!", before the tears he'd 
been holding in check, for months, it seemed, found their way out of 
his eyes.

Tom didn't even notice when the Bajoran at Tactical sent the 
Cardassians on their way to a fiery hell, as he swept Parry up and 
headed to what had been their quarters.

Once inside, he went straight for the rocking chair, holding Parry as 
close to him as he could.  The boy shivered and Tom sought his 
eyes with love and concern shining out of his own.

"Cold?" he asked softly, moving his fingers over well-loved features, 
before dropping a kiss onto Parry's forehead, right on the small 
indentation inherited from his mother.

Parry nodded, prompting Tom to remove his own shirt and wrap it 
around him, rolling the sleeves up.  "I knew you'd come," he said with 
quiet conviction, before his head found its place on Tom's bare 
shoulder.

"I will *always* come," Tom reaffirmed, like Parry needed him to.

"Is Voyager okay?" Parry asked, having been none too sure how 
badly injured the ship had been in the attack.

"Voyager will be fine," Tom reassured him softly, rubbing his cheek 
against soft, dark brown hair. 

"And my Father?" Parry asked cautiously, not sure how Tom would 
take it.

"He's fine, too, they all are.  He'll be *very* glad to see you, again," 
Tom said.  "He was so angry and worried about you."

"Is he mad at *me*?" Parry asked in a voice Tom could barely hear. 

"No, of course not," Tom answered, puzzled.  "Why would he be?"

"I went to the bridge when the ship came under fire, like you told me 
to do, here. I was at the Conn, when the Gul saw me. That's why he 
took me," Parry explained.

"You were at the Conn?" Tom marveled, pulling away to see Parry's 
face light up.

The little boy nodded excitedly.  "Medran hit the bulkhead when she 
got knocked out of her seat," he said quickly.  "I just jumped into it."

Tom laughed lightly, hugging Parry.  "I bet you were doing a 
wonderful job, flying my old ship."

Parry shrugged, then yawned.  "Not too bad.  I've been practicing 
your simulations," he informed Tom, before settling back tiredly 
against a strong shoulder.

Tom rubbed the boy's back, quieting him, murmuring soft nonsense 
to him. Parry went limp against him, when he finally fell asleep.  It 
had been a damned long day and sleep sounded like a pretty good 
idea to him, too, as he let himself drift off, arms tightening in 
unconscious protection around his son.


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


Chakotay could barely force himself to remain seated when Gilas' 
face came over the viewscreen.  His eyes closed in grateful prayer 
when the Klingon nodded and he leaned over the console in front of 
him for support.

"I can have Tom beam over there with Parry, if you want," Gilas 
offered, but Chakotay shook his head.  He'd all but reached the 
conclusion that Parry needed his 'Daddy' more than he needed his 
'Father'.  The guilt was tearing him up inside.  At least Tom could 
keep the child safe, in that wondrous fortress he called a ship.  

Chakotay looked back to see the Captain gazing at him searchingly. 
She nodded.

"Go, Commander," Janeway ordered quietly, not at all surprised 
when Chakotay shot out of his seat and headed toward the turbolift. 
She found herself wondering if he really wanted to come back. 
Smiling wryly, she supposed that you could take the man out of the 
Maquis, but maybe you couldn't take the Maquis out of the man. She 
knew how he felt about the Cardassians, how much he envied Tom 
the Integrity, knew what a ship like that could mean for the balance of 
power between the Maquis and their enemies.  Tom wasn't officially 
aligned, but it was obvious whose side he was on.  

Janeway sighed.  Parry.  Yet another thing these two men had to 
bring and *keep* them together.  She wondered why it hadn't worked 
out before; it had seemed to be going so well then, suddenly, it was 
over.  Chakotay had told her they didn't have enough in common. 
That clearly wasn't the case any longer.

Chakotay hadn't been really happy on her ship at all, until Parry had 
come into his life.  And then, the only time they were *both* happy, 
was when they were talking about Tom.  Janeway found she was 
steeling herself to Chakotay's deciding not to return to Voyager. 
Even Tuvok would think it completely logical.  At least he would be 
returning to Voyager in a few weeks.  She found herself looking 
forward to that with great pleasure.  She'd miss Chakotay, much as 
Harry had missed Tom, until he had found his own way, without his 
friend's guidance or instigation.  But, she thought, in a ship like the 
Integrity, the universe was a very small place.



Chakotay grinned at Gilas as he stepped off the transporter pad.  A 
hearty clap on the back, and he was on his way to the Captain's 
quarters.  

He went through the door at full speed, only to be brought up short at 
the entrance to the bedroom.  

Tom and Parry hadn't made it out of the rocking chair.  Parry was 
asleep, head back against one bare shoulder as he sat sideways on 
Tom's lap.  Tom had a firm, loving hold on the boy, even as he slept, 
his cheek resting on Parry's dark head. Chakotay smiled as he 
remembered the nights Tom had fallen asleep in a chair waiting for 
him to get off duty.  It had usually taken several minutes of gentle 
massage for the man to be able to straighten out his neck again.

He crossed the room quietly, not seeing Parry's eyes crack open for 
an instant before a grin passed over his face, disappearing quickly 
as Chakotay drew nearer.

Chakotay knelt next to the chair and lay a hand on Parry's head, 
making the child burrow even deeper into Tom's chest.  Tom 
frowned for a moment, before his eyes flew open and Chakotay 
couldn't help but grin as the man flinched trying to straighten himself 
out.  His smile turned tender as Tom kissed Parry's head when the 
little boy murmured something in his sleep, then settled again into 
restful silence.

Parry left his eyes closed and tried his best not to smile, keeping his 
breathing even and shallow.  He didn't want to miss anything, now 
that his two favorite people were finally alone in the same room 
together.  Playing 'possum was one of his best things.

Tom let his eyes drink in Chakotay's presence and he did his best 
not to let his misery show on his face.  Losing Parry was hard 
enough to do once, he wasn't sure he could do it again without 
breaking down.

"I know the Captain wants you back as quickly as possible, but I hate 
to wake him . ." Tom's whisper trailed off when Chakotay shook his 
head.  

"It's okay; I have time," Chakotay murmured back, not sure if Tom 
even wanted him to stay, after the way they parted company.

"I'm glad," Tom said simply, looking down at the sleeping child in his 
arms.  His eyes closed and he sighed, but they popped back open 
when he felt a hand on his, covering the one resting on Parry's head. 
The surprise he felt at that was nothing compared to what he felt 
when Chakotay spoke again.

"I just wanted to come and say goodbye," Chakotay said softly, 
partly in deference to his sleeping son, partly because his voice 
wouldn't work any louder.

"What?!" Tom asked with quiet shock.

Chakotay sighed, bowing his head for a moment. "I can't guarantee 
his safety, Tom.  And he means everything to me. He's better off 
with you," he choked out, willing the tears away that threatened to 
fall. "He *needs* you.  He's been miserable on Voyager.  He's lonely, 
he's bored, he's smarter than all the other children and some of the 
adults.  The only time he's happy is when he talks about you and the 
things you taught him, the time you spent with him, making him read 
to you.  The games of catch on the holodeck.  Teaching him to swim. 
The flying. Gods, Tom.  He's more your son than mine. He needs 
you," Chakotay said again.

"And he needs *you*," Tom stated firmly. "You're his father . ." Tom 
stopped when Chakotay interrupted him. 

"But you're his Daddy.  And you will always *be* his Daddy," 
Chakotay barely got out through a throat made thick with grief.  "I 
love him, and I want him to be happy. I want him to be safe.  And 
yes, I want him to be with me. But, if I have that, then he can't have 
the first two.  And he's more important."

Tom said quietly for a moment, thinking.  "He needs us both, 
Chakotay.  *Both* of us, together," he paused, but Chakotay didn't 
say anything.  "Are *you* happy? On Voyager?" Tom asked, blue 
eyes drilling into the man at his side.

"As happy as I can be," Chakotay answered, calmly, but Tom shook 
his head.

"That's not what I asked you," Tom sighed, running his free hand 
over his face, before stilling as Parry stirred.  "Hang on.  Let me put 
him to bed and we can talk," he said, rising out of the rocking chair 
and heading toward Parry's old bedroom.  

Chakotay followed and noticed it looked exactly the same as when 
he'd last been there.  His eyes watched as Tom carefully tucked 
Parry into bed, still wearing his shirt, before heading to his own 
bedroom and swiping a stuffed targ off his pillow.  He went back into 
Parry's room and tucked the targ into bed beside his son, laying one 
of the boy's hands over the animal.

Tom ordered the lights dimmed even more and stood to meet 
Chakotay's warm gaze.  He shrugged.  "It's his favorite," he 
explained gruffly.  "He left it here when he went with you."

Chakotay nodded and stood aside to let Tom come out of the room. 
Tired as he was, worried and unhappy, Tom was still about the most 
beautiful thing he had ever seen, second only to their son.  *Their* 
son.  

He moved slowly into the other room, lost in thought, thinking about 
Tom's question.  Was he happy on Voyager?  Not really.  It had 
gotten better when Parry had been there, but how much of that was 
Parry and how much was the connection to Tom, through the boy? 
Did he like what he was doing?  Some, yes.  But, he *really* liked 
what Tom was doing.  It occurred to him that Tom was more Maquis 
now than he himself was.  And he was Starfleet.  Gods, how the 
roles had changed.  

He joined Tom on the couch, still silent in thought.  Maquis or 'Fleet? 
The Integrity or Voyager?  Tom and their son or . . what?  There 
wasn't anything or anyone on Voyager that was comparable.

"No," he replied, finally, to Tom's question.  "I'm not happy. Parry 
made it better for awhile, but the only times we were both happy was 
when the two of us were talking about you, remembering you.  I envy 
you the life you have here.  This ship and what you're doing with it. 
Damn, I envy you.  All of it," Chakotay said with honest intensity.

"Then share it with me," Tom whispered, moving closer to Chakotay 
and taking his hand in his own.  "Parry's not the only one who needs 
you.  *I* need you.  I still love you," Tom said, eyes filling as the 
words reacquainted themselves with his heart.  "We both need you. 
Here.  On this ship.  Our son needs us both.  And I think you need 
us.  Am I wrong, Chakotay?  Am I *that* wrong?" Tom asked, not 
liking the pleading in his voice, but not wanting to hide the fact that 
he wanted Chakotay with him. Badly.  Still.

Chakotay's other hand reached out to take Tom's and he hesitated 
only a second before pulling the man into his arms.

"Welcome home," Tom whispered.

Chakotay didn't know if Tom meant home in his arms or home on his 
ship, but it didn't matter. He felt a tremor run through Tom as his 
hand slid down the man's back and he leaned away, cradling that 
beloved face in his hands.  He moved forward slowly, giving Tom 
plenty of time to avoid him, before his lips touched Tom's.  They 
opened to each other immediately, both seeking what had been lost 
too long ago and together, they found it.

"I've missed you, *gods* I've missed you," Chakotay eased back to 
murmur against Tom's throat.  "I'm so sorry.  Oh, Tom, I am so 
*damned* sorry."

Tom shook his head.  "It had to happen the way it did.  I could have 
had the 'Fleet, if I'd wanted it, but I turned them down because I 
couldn't bear to be anywhere near you.  If I'd taken it, I wouldn't have 
the Integrity, I wouldn't have found Parry, and he'd still be with the 
bloody Kazon," they shared a shudder over that hideous thought.  "It 
had to be this way.  It all makes sense, Chakotay."

Chakotay smiled.  "I never knew you were such a fatalist."

"Things have a way of working out to get me what I need," Tom 
shrugged.  "I don't always get what I want, but I get what I need.  I 
needed you, a ship, and, apparently, a son," he finished, smiling. 
"This was the way the Fates decided to give me all three."

"My lover, the fatalist," Chakotay murmured before he captured 
Tom's lips with his. 

Tom pulled back gently after a delicious moment. "Am I?" he asked, 
with some hesitation.  "Your lover, I mean." 

Chakotay stared at him. "If you want to be.  And Spirits, I *hope* you 
want to be," he said firmly, seeing the last of the ice finally thaw in 
Tom's eyes.  He hadn't realized it was there, until it was gone.  It 
couldn't have survived in the warmth shining out from them, now.  Or 
the love.  "I still love you.  I never stopped loving you.  Love wasn't 
the problem; we just didn't have anything else to hold us together.  I 
didn't understand you, you didn't understand me. Neither knew what 
was really important to the other.  You had your dreams and 
passions and hopes and they never came close to resembling 
mine," Chakotay said softly.

Tom nodded.  "And now we share a lot of those dreams and 
passions and hopes. We share a son, a *beautiful* son," his voice 
tapered off, drawing Chakotay's concern before he continued.  "The 
main reason I went on a one man rampage against the Cardassians 
was anger.  At you," he admitted sheepishly.  "I don't have that 
anymore.  I don't know if I can go on doing what I've been doing," he 
said with reluctant honesty.

"You've done a hell of a lot with this ship," Chakotay said forcefully, 
taking Tom's face in his strong hands. "You don't have to go out of 
your way to pick fights with them anymore, but we can still empty 
their prisons for them, push them out of the DMZ.  I know you, Tom. 
Just because you won't go looking for trouble, doesn't mean you 
won't find it," he grinned.

"There's a lot we can do with this baby," Tom realized.  "We just 
have to pick our battles carefully.  'Teg's a hell of a war machine."

"'Teg'?" Chakotay asked, puzzled.

"His nickname," Tom answered, grinning.

"'His'?" Chakotay parroted back.

"This ship is definitely a 'he'," Tom explained.  "And we call him 
'Teg'."

Chakotay chuckled.  "Teg it is," he said, drawing his hand down one 
side of Tom's face. "I need to talk to Captain Janeway, but she gave 
me tonight to work things out with you.  Gilas offered Voyager the 
use of your spacedock, for some of the repairs and we're heading 
back there now.  He didn't think you'd mind and he didn't want to 
disturb you and Parry," Chakotay paused in thought for a moment.  
"What will I do here, on this ship?" he asked Tom.  

"I want you at my side, on the bridge," Tom answered firmly. "It's 
where you belong."

"I don't want to take over Gilas' spot," Chakotay protested until Tom 
shushed him.  "Gilas' first love is engineering," Tom explained. 
"Maybe it's a Klingon thing," he joked, drawing a chuckle from 
Chakotay.  "That's where he's happiest.  The only reason he was my 
First Officer was because I needed him there.  He's mentioned to 
me a time or two, subtly, of course, how nice it would be to have 
someone else in that role so he could spend more time with the 
engines.  He hates the details of the job; he'd rather play with coils 
and relays any day.  It's yours if you want it.  No one else will have a 
problem with it.  This isn't a 'Fleet ship, there are no ranks.  In fact, 
people will think it's strange if you *aren't* my XO."

Chakotay nodded.  "All right, then," he said taking a deep breath. 
"I'm staying."  Just saying the words felt wonderful and he couldn't 
stop smiling.

Both of them were so lost in their own delight they didn't notice the 
silent whooping coming from Parry's bedroom as their son quietly 
celebrated having both his parents back together again.  He got 
quietly back into bed, yawning, snuggling deep into the covers and 
gradually fell back to sleep.

Tom, meanwhile, was kissing Chakotay but backed away when it 
started getting too intense.  "Janeway gave you until tomorrow, 
right?" he asked.

Chakotay nodded then grinned at the familiar look that came into 
Tom's eyes.  He'd forgotten what *that* kind of heat could feel like.

"Stay with me, then," Tom whispered, slowly planting kisses all over 
Chakotay's face. "Sleep with me." Light nibbles to the neck were 
followed by licks to the ear.  "Make love with me again," he groaned 
softly into Chakotay's ear and grinned shakily at Chakotay's 
answering groan.  

Tom rose to his feet and held a hand out.  Chakotay didn't hesitate in 
taking it and let Tom lead him into the bedroom.  They both honestly 
intended to undress each other slowly, savoring the moment, but the 
looks between them heated up to the point that they needed to be 
naked and together as soon as possible or risk implosion.  

Tom fell back onto the bed and Chakotay was in his arms 
immediately.  Hands roamed everywhere, the caresses becoming 
smoother and less hurried as the craving gradually eased.  By silent 
consent, they decided to wait on the more intense sex until they were 
totally alone.  That still left them a lot to play with, however.

Chakotay sighed, letting his hands rediscover his lover's body, 
mapping out all the old erogenous zones and finding a few new 
ones.  He'd missed that long length of thigh, the curve of the 
shoulder, the way his hand fit perfectly on Tom's hip.  Tom stroked 
and petted Chakotay, running his hands up the man's back, down to 
his ass, then around and up the front to caress his chest and feel the 
familiar, beloved heart beating thunderously beneath them.  He 
kissed his lover everywhere he could reach, trying to convince 
himself that the man he loved really was back in his arms again.

Chakotay picked up on the shiver that ran through Tom.  "Yes, I'm 
here," he whispered to Tom's heart before licking a path downward. 
"And I'm not going anywhere."

Tom sighed in pleasure and let Chakotay love him. His gasps and 
moans brought some evil smiles to his lover's face, if he'd been in 
any condition to see them.  He felt the desire and need within him 
reach critical levels and couldn't have held back his release if his life 
had depended on it.

Tom could *feel* Chakotay's grin behind his closed eyes, as the man 
slid up his body to once again lay at his side.  He grinned in 
response and Chakotay's joyous laugh shook the bed.  He could 
barely get his eyes open, but saw at once the delight in his lover's, 
and wrapped his arms around Chakotay, pulling him close, feeling an 
undisguised hardness against his thigh.

Chakotay kissed Tom, then moaned into his mouth when warm, 
strong fingers encircled him. It had been so long, too long.  He 
groaned when Tom deepened the kiss and seriously considered the 
possibility of passing out from lack of air, just so he wouldn't have to 
break their lips apart.  Tom had forgotten nothing, that became 
evident as the caresses and strokes reached glowing tendrils within 
him, drawing his own satisfaction from him as he cried out softly into 
Tom's mouth. He let his lover pull him closer and dimly felt the 
covers being flipped over the two of them, before he curled up 
around the wonderful man in his arms and dropped off to sleep, Tom 
just a moment behind him. Together, again.


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


Parry woke first the next morning, bouncing with quiet delight on his 
old bed.  With a quick hug to his stuffed targ, he padded out of his 
room and into his Daddy's.  He grinned.  *Both* his Daddies.  He 
stopped by the bed, looking at them silently, still wrapped around 
each other, even in their sleep.  The wicked little smile on his face 
would have been disturbingly familiar to both of them if they'd been 
awake to see it.  But the love and happiness on his face would have 
set their minds at ease.  He sighed.  This had really been *too* easy. 
And he couldn't even take credit for *all* of it.  

He'd been depending on his deliberate misery on Voyager to bring 
them back together again, for his sake.  The nasty Gul's snatching 
him had just been luck, but good luck.  He'd known his Father wasn't 
happy on Voyager and he didn't want to imagine how miserable his 
Daddy had been on the Integrity.  Now they were back together 
again and he had both of them.  It had been exciting, but still *too* 
easy.  He'd have to think of something new to work on.  Maybe a little 
brother or sister.  Parry smiled again, the wheels turning in his 
devious little mind. He was definitely his mother's son.


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