The PKSP Archive - Blank Page by envoy --- Disclaimer: They're not mine... or something... --- There is a question which should be addressed: how far should a Captain go? Starfleet has answered through its Prime Directive and the many other minor rules which I have always adhered to, but in the circumstances in which I am I find the question changing to: how far should a Captain be prepared to go? How far should I be prepared to go? And what should a Captain do when she goes that far unprepared for it or its consequences? This is what must be addressed. I look up as Chakotay looks down at me; his eyes twinkle but the rest of him remains professionally respectful. He waits for me to utter his name with the throaty voice which always sounds masculine to me. He tells me that Tom Paris had failed to appear for his duty shift. This was to be expected- Tom's behaviour had become increasingly erratic in the wake of Ensign Kim's death. The friendship had been close and I suspect that Tom had viewed Kim as what he could have been. Now that view had twisted into an example of There but for the Grace of God go I. I could not help but feel that returning to the structure of work might help him, but if he was not prepared for it I would not force it. I have learned my lessons. I nod and rise from behind my desk to walk ahead of Chakotay onto the Bridge. I settle into the helm and wait out the hours until the shift ends. I change before I go to see him- it seems appropriate to go as myself rather than a figure of authority. When I arrive it becomes apparent that this cannot be so- he refuses to answer the door. I easily override the lock. The room is pristine; no overwrought mess of emotion, but immaculate down to the angle of the pillows on the couch. I call out to him, but receive no response. I walk further in. The door to his bedroom is open and I glance in to see nothing at first, but then, in the mess of bedclothes and fabrics, I make out his foot. In a heart rushing moment I touch my fingers to my lips and moan his name; the foot remains still. Tentatively, I approach and gently pull away layers until his face is visible and the heave of his chest calms me. He is a child in sleep; warm and shielded against the outside, but all too soon required to face it. His eyes are puffy red from crying. I caress his lonely flesh and retreat to the main room to wait for him. He stumbles from sleep to where I wait. At first he is confused and then cold in his anger as to what I am doing there, as to what I think I am doing by being there. He goes on until the anger peters out and he is left bereft in the middle of an untouched room. He looks about himself; stunned and bewildered. I state the obvious and then rise to join him, circling my arms around him and pulling him to me as I would a son. He is confused; I can feel that in our closeness, in the flittering of his fingers which brush against the fabric of my tunic only to rush away. Finally, they land and I comfort him in silence until he begins to speak in rushed and tumbling words- at times strangled by the overflow of emotion and then speaking in rushed, incoherent tears to tell me what I did not know. Then nothing. The crying continues silently- sensed only by the shaking of his body against mine. Then it stops and I find him looking down at me with tear twinkling eyes; a look I have seen before, though never from him. And in that moment- in spite of all I know and all he has told me- I could not deny it. His lips were salty and gentle against mine and his hands and fingers light taunts to my skin; and with time they become more insistent, more passionate and his hands find their way beneath my tunic to caress me and turn my skin to shivers. He pauses to pull the tunic over my head. His eyes do not leave mine as he trails his lips down my torso to the waist of my trousers. He stops. I push down the trousers so they puddle around my feet; I lower myself so that we are face to face; I kiss him. We lower ourselves to the floor and I pull him into me, aware of a thousand thoughts which I refuse to acknowledge. It does not last long and I pull him into a final embrace as he groans against me. He moves away from me with eyes wide. He turns from me with a sob and disappears into the bedroom. Slowly, I dress myself and then leave. And so I sit considering this, not daring to commit it to any log- too aware of how such a thing could reflect on a Captain's career be she dead or alive. And outside this room everyone continues as normal, unaware of what has passed. Forever unaware of what has passed. --- The End