another dream of the minotaur

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Paramount does. I don't own this universe, Paramount does. I'm just taking them out to play for a little while. No copyright infringement is intended. If anyone wanted to sue me, they'd get my collection of Matchbox cars and that's about all.

Distribution: PKSP, BLTs, ASCEM, any archive (so long as you tell me where), print the thing out and use it for wallpaper for all I care, just leave my byline and the disclaimers. This work of fiction may not be published in any fanzine, electronic forum or other medium for which money is charged.

Rating: This fanfic contains scenes of explicit male/male sex. If that bothers you, go away. If it doesn't, read on McDuff.

Spoilers: None.

Acknowledgments: Everybody who responded so nicely to "Crossed Signals" for giving me the confidence to write this, my boss for the use of his computer equipment and time (even if he doesn't know it), and Gladys for the great parking space.

Personal Note: This is only my second work of fanfic, in fact it's only the second piece of fiction that I've ever managed to finish. I'm not really sure where the boys are going to take me next, but I assure you, they aren't done.

The events in this story take place immediately following "Crossed Signals", which was posted to PKSP and ASCEM the week before Thanksgiving, 1997. If you haven't read that story, this won't make much sense to you.

Feedback: Welcomed, appreciated, treasured and gloated over in fact.

Gregor Ayala awoke slowly from his dream, a dream in which he was skinny dipping with his brother in one of the thousand tiny lakes which had filled the forest surrounding their colony homestead. In the dream he and his brother were still young, still innocent, still close. In the dream the sky was a crystalline blue, the water jade green and the forest deep and silent. It had started with he and Jesus running through the forest, in that peculiar slow-motion so common to dreams. The ground beneath their feet was soft with the decaying leaves fallen from the towering trees. Patches of sunlight dappled the forest floor. They were chasing one another, first Gregor in the lead, then Jesus.

Then the scene changed and they were on the shore of their favorite lake. It was literally theirs, so far as they knew no other human had ever set eyes on it. Jesus threw off his clothes and dove in. He swam underwater, staying submerged long enough that Gregor began to worry. It was a game they played every time, and every time Gregor felt the first bright copper taste of fear before his brother reappeared, laughing and calling Gregor to join him. And Gregor would. He'd jump into the azure waters to chase after Jesus. Leaping and splashing, they would try to dunk one another until, exhausted, they would simply float, side by side, holding hands, watching the clouds drift past overhead and contemplating their place in the world.

It was from this point in the dream that Gregor awoke. Gradually he became aware that it was a dream, that he was no longer young, no longer innocent. That the lake was dried up, the forest burnt down, the colony vanished beneath the detritus of wholesale planetary strip-mining. That his father was dead, his brother and mother 70,000 light years distant, and he himself trapped on a ship full of his enemies. Desperately he reached for the feelings of peace and connection from his dream, but it was like trying to grab a handful of smoke. Even as he attempted to recall them, the details vanished from his mind, leaving behind only the bitter taste of decayed hopes and stale ideals.

With wakefulness came the realization that he wasn't alone. In a flash all memory of his dream, even the fact that he had dreamt, was banished. Instead he curled closer around the body in his arms. He pressed his face into Harry's hair, breathing deeply of his scent. His hands ran over the younger man's smooth golden skin, soaking in the texture, lightly tracing the solid muscles. He stroked Harry's cheek, ran a finger over his perfect lips.

He hadn't intended to sleep with the Ensign. The idea had been to make it appear that they were dating in order to make Tom Paris and Chakotay jealous. But now that he was here, with Harry curled so perfectly in the circle of his arms, he began to wonder if he really wanted Chakotay to take a greater interest in him. Holding Harry just felt so right. The sex had been explosive, he'd never felt so connected by one simple act. In his mind he tried to picture Chakotay beneath him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Would he have given himself so completely? Tried to imagine Chakotay's voice calling out his name in the heat of passion. Would he have sounded so heartfelt? The images refused to form.

Harry stirred, mumbling something incoherent. Gregor pulled him closer, savoring his warmth. Harry mumbled again, slightly louder. Gregor concentrated, trying to make out what he was saying. When it came, he froze.

"Tom... ."

Harry Kim awoke slowly from his dream, a dream in which he told Tom Paris, finally, how he'd felt for so long. In the dream they were in Sandrine's, along with the whole crew of Voyager. This didn't strike him as odd, in the dream there was a perfectly logical reason that he had chosen such a public venue. Tom moved around the pool table, making perfect shots even though the balls all had faces. Some Harry recognized, classmates from the Academy, his parents, and some he didn't. As Tom lined up each shot, the face would look at Harry and say "Don't tell him".

"I have to," he replied to each one. He moved to take the pool cue from Tom's hands, trying to think of the words to express himself. Tom looked at him and he lost himself in the taller man's eyes. The same blue as the sky above his grand-mother's garden on a perfect summer's day. His tongue felt thick and clumsy, his hands were sweating, his heart pounding.

"Harry?" Even in the dream Tom's voice held that note of concern carefully hidden beneath a facade of cynicism that melted Harry's bones. This was the Tom he'd fallen so in love with, the Tom that tried so hard to pretend nothing mattered to him, because so much had been taken from him. Harry yearned to reach out to that Tom, to show him it was alright to care again.

In his dream Harry found the words to tell Tom, the right words, the words that made Tom see how much he cared. The words that made Tom's eyes blaze with an answering love. The words that he could never find awake. But the dream Harry found them, said them, declaimed them to the stars for all to hear. And the dream Tom responded, taking Harry in his arms to kiss him gently. He pressed his lips to Tom's, knowing that it was only the first of many they would share.

It was from this point in the dream that Harry awoke. Gradually he became aware that it was a dream, that his tongue had never uttered such perfect syllables. That the object of his desire had never heard his heart or felt the touch of his lips. He reached for the words, trying desperately to commit them to memory so he could use their power in the waking world, but all he could say was "Tom... .Tom... ... Tom". The rest slipped away, leaving only ghostly traces of their eloquence behind.

With wakefulness came the realization that he was not alone. He heard movement in the outer room. In a flash all memory of his dream, even the fact that he had dreamt, vanished. He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow so recently vacated by Gregor, inhaling his lingering scent.

He hadn't intended to sleep with the Maquis. But from the first moment their lips met it would have been impossible not to. Just remembering the strength of him, the perfect way his arms had fit themselves around his body, Harry's blood began to race. When the taller man had lifted him off his feet and crushed their bodies together Harry had been lost, yet at the same time found. He had bared his most closely held shame for Gregor, yet when they made love had never felt so cherished. He moved over into the space where Gregor had slept, still warm, and grinned. Perhaps this hadn't been such a bad idea after all. His skin still felt faint trails where Gregor's mouth had been. He moved his hands over his chest, lightly flicking his nipples as Gregor has done the night before. He traced the outline of his lips, tasting in memory the fire and spice of the other man's kisses.

Just as he was about to call out and let Gregor know he was awake he heard the distinctive sighing of the door. Wrapping the sheet around himself he got up and walked into the living room. Gregor wasn't there. Except for the bouquet, there was no evidence that he had ever been there.

Tom Paris was not a morning person, never had been, never would be. Yet he felt compelled from his bed a full two hours earlier than his normal time this morning. It was no coincidence that he hovered just outside his cabin door for most of that time, idly toying with his combadge and pretending a deep fascination with the weave of the carpet beneath his boots. Had any passerby commented on his uncharacteristic interest in the interior design of the ship, he would have quickly denied it. He was lurking, and proud of it.

Ever since Harry had announced the previous evening that he was having dinner with Gregor Ayala, Tom had been uneasy. He didn't trust the big Maquis. He knew what the Maquis lifestyle was like and what type of person it attracted. Harry was too innocent, too inexperienced to realize that Gregor was probably only interested in one thing. Tom knew that Harry, trusting soul that he was, would assume Gregor wanted a relationship. If they slept together Harry would think it meant something, he'd put some faith in the other man's honor. He would end up getting hurt, used then discarded. Tom didn't want that to happen to his friend, his friend deserved so much better.

That knowledge was why Tom himself had never tried to take their friendship any further. He recognized his own limitations. He had measured himself against his friend, and come up short. No matter what his own feelings were, he couldn't subject Harry to the sad spectacle that was Tom Paris in love. Harry deserved someone with his own sterling qualities, his strength and honor. Tom wasn't worthy of such a perfect man, and he knew it. So he continued to pal around with him, storing up memories of their times together to keep him warm in the cold watches of the night.

He wanted his friend to find someone special, a lover who was worthy of him, and wasn't about to let him make the mistake of getting involved with some over-grown Maquis who couldn't string two words together. So he loitered outside his quarters two hours before he had to get out of bed, standing where he could see Harry's door.

About 90 minutes before the start of alpha shift he was rewarded, or punished rather, by the sight of Gregor Ayala emerging from Harry's quarters. He watched as Gregor stepped out with that particularly careful gait which meant he didn't want to wake the person he was leaving behind. Tom recognized it, he'd used it himself many times. Just the sight of someone treating Harry that way made him tremble with rage. How dare he? Didn't he know who he was dealing with, whose heart his was trifling with? Tom wanted to confront Ayala then and there, to demand that he leave Harry alone, but he knew Harry would not appreciate it. So he fumed to himself and looked on helplessly as Ayala strode away down the corridor.

Harry hadn't seen either Tom or Gregor in the mess while he breakfasted. Plenty of other people had come up to him during the meal, asking with varying degrees of casualness how his date had gone. The Delaney sisters, as usual, had gotten straight to the point.

"So, Mr. Butter-Wouldn't-Melt," Meagan said, setting her tray at his table and interrupting the too-casual prying of Bateheart. "Was he any good?"

"Details, Ensign, we want details" Jenny seconded, shoving in next to her sister.

Harry could feel the blush travel up his face. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he responded.

"Yeah, well, when we meet a gentleman, we'll remember that. But we're asking you," Meagan said. She aimed her fork at him, menacing him with a bite sized portion of something he couldn't identify. "I've always wondered about Ayala," she continued. "Just haven't gotten around to doing anything about it yet. Is he worth the trouble?"

Involuntarily, Harry grinned, a wide satiated grin that told his audience all they needed to know.

Arriving at the bridge, uncharacteristically a few minutes late, Harry saw that Tom was already seated at the conn. He didn't turn to greet Harry, even after the Captain gently reprimanded him for his tardiness. Standing at his station, after running the various checks and diagnostics that started his day, he gazed down on the back of Tom's head. In the past he had lost himself many times in contemplation of that enigmatic visage. The back of the head isn't the usual object for such devotion, but it was what Harry saw most. He had come to love that view. On any other day the soft golden curl of hair laying against the perfect curve of Tom's neck was enough to keep Harry entranced and set his pulse racing. He would imagine how that neck might feel under his lips, ask himself whether Tom might prefer the sensation of Harry's teeth tracing the smooth column of his neck or rather he used just his lips and tongue.

Today was different. He still saw the perfection of that curve, but now in his mind's eye it was framed by locks of dark hair. Instead of sky-blue eyes he saw a blue so dark it was almost black.

When Harry had discovered that Gregor had left without a word that morning, he had tried to figure out what it meant. Did he regret their lovemaking? Was he ashamed that they had let passion overcome them? Guilty because he had had sex with Harry while loving Chakotay? This last thought made such sense that it immediately took on the force of conviction. Harry turned his attention now to the First Officer. What did Gregor see in him that tore him from Harry's bed so soon after such a powerful experience?

He returned to reality with a jar as the Captain asked him a question. He missed the amused look which passed between her and Chakotay at his air of distraction.

Toward the end of his shift a small window popped open in his display. It was a message from Ayala inviting him to dinner in his quarters that evening to report on their respective progress. Harry surprised himself with the intensity of his reaction. A flush mounted his body and he was suddenly grateful that the console concealed the lower part of his body.

Until he opened the door for Harry that evening, Gregor wasn't sure weather or not he actually wanted to see the Ensign. The idea had seemed so simple when he suggested it, was it really only yesterday? Convince Tom Paris and Chakotay that they might be in danger of losing the devotion of Harry and himself, Tom and Chakotay wake up to their feeling and profess their undying love. Simple.

What he hadn't considered was the complication of Harry's lips. Of Harry's hair, his broad muscled chest and strong arms. The way he threw his head back and moaned when Gregor entered him. The tiny sound, half whimper & half purr, he made as Gregor thrust into him. Gregor stopped to adjust himself, his pants seemed suddenly less loose than when he'd put them on. He mentally reviewed the proper settings for a plasma injector until he cooled down.

Waking wrapped around Harry had felt so right, so familiar. But when Harry had whispered the name of another man in his sleep, Gregor realized that the younger man must not have been as affected by their lovemaking as he had. He had slipped out of bed and gathered his clothes quietly, not wanting to disturb Harry and be forced to face the look in his eyes when he awoke to what they had done. Gregor wanted to treasure it unsullied for as long as he was allowed. He had returned to his own quarters to dress, and purposely skipped breakfast to preserve the illusion.

Throughout his shift he argued with himself over what to do next. Should he act like nothing had changed between them, assuming that they were still co-conspirators in league to attract their heart's desires? Should he abandon the pretense and pursue Harry for himself? And how did Harry feel about their night together? Would Harry even want to see him again after this? When that last thought occurred to him it seemed so probable that the answer would be 'No' that he could barely restrain himself from rushing up to the bridge on some pretext just to get a last look at the beautiful Ensign.

He jittered and worried so much that Tuvok reprimanded him for his inattention to the details of the daily Security routine. Finally, toward the end of Alpha shift he broke down and sent a brief message to Harry, inviting him to dinner that night.

Harry signaled at Gregor's door exactly on time, carrying two more bottles of the wine they had shared the previous night. He was so intent on where he was going, so consumed by the question of Gregor's motive for the invitation, that he didn't notice Tom Paris trailing him through the corridor. When the door slid aside to reveal Gregor, casually dressed and smiling, Harry's heart leapt. He couldn't suppress an answering grin. He proffered the wine with a flourish.

"Beware of Ensigns bearing gifts," he said.

"Beware of Ensigns, period," Gregor replied. He ushered Harry into his quarters with a slight bow.

Harry looked around the room. The standard Starfleet decor was gone, replaced by a miscellany of objects. Instead of the standard couch-table arrangement, there was a low Japanese style table surrounded by flat cushions. One corner was filled with a variety of pillows, all shapes and sizes. A martial arts practice dummy stood in another. The desk was covered with phasers, both handheld and rifle models, most partially disassembled. The walls were bare, save for two images. Neither was very large, and both were 2- dimensional, permanent prints of standard holo-images. Harry approached them warily.

One was a picture of two boys, about 12 years old, standing shirtless underneath a huge tree. They wore identical grins, mugging for the camera with arms thrown over each other's shoulders. Harry looked at Gregor and could see, buried beneath lines of time and pain, the face he had once worn. Harry looked closely, searching for any sign of what Gregor was feeling, but his face was shuttered again, casual yet completely controlled.

"Which one is which?" he asked.

"I'm not even sure myself, anymore. That was the summer we did our wilderness survival test. Six weeks in the outback, living off the land. Jesus and I were teamed, of course, and by the end of it we were acting like one person. Even more than usual, I mean. It was like I didn't know where he ended and I began."

The other picture was of a planet, taken from orbit. Even through the white streaks of clouds Harry could tell that it wasn't Earth, or any other planet he was familiar with.

"Rho Tauri V" he said. It had to be. Gregor just nodded in agreement. Harry could understand why he would keep these two images in view, reminders of everything he'd lost. He turned and caught an expression of deep sadness on Gregor's face. Another facet was added to the fragile construction he still held next to his heart, another view of Gregor.

"So," Harry said, striving for a lighter tone. "Any response on the Chakotay front?"

Gregor brought himself back to the present. He busied himself with the ritual of opening and pouring the wine for a moment, composing himself.

"No major movement yet," he replied, handing Harry a glass. "He didn't make any personal remarks when I delivered the day's Security reports, but then Chakotay usually doesn't. Everybody else, on the other hand... ."

Harry didn't hear any guilt or shame in Gregor's voice when he said Chakotay's name. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'there's some other reason he left so quickly this morning'

"I know." Harry said out loud. "The Delaney sisters cornered me this morning at breakfast and demanded a detailed description of the whole night."

"What did you tell them?"

"That a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Harry grinned.

"Hah, I bet I can guess their reaction to that. Have you heard the scuttlebutt about us?" Gregor's answering smile was positively gloating.

"Aside from the fact that you brought me two dozen roses? Or in another version, a live Drakkari blood fern, you know, the one you have to feed live mice to."

"A Drakkari blood fern? I hadn't heard that one. Where do they think I'd find a Drakkari blood fern out here? Or roses, for that matter."

"Maybe they think you secretly raise them in your bathtub."

"Then they don't know anything about blood ferns. My bathtub isn't nearly large enough. Did you hear that we were caught, red-handed so to speak, making out in the turbo-lift by the Captain? With our pants around our ankles."

Harry choked on the mouthful of wine he'd just taken, almost spitting it onto the floor. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

"Nope." Gregor solemnly shook his head. "Lemay asked me point blank if it were true."

"You defended my reputation, naturally."

"Naturally. I told him it was a complete lie, and even if it hadn't happened it was Tuvok and not the Captain."

Harry was laughing so hard he had to set his glass down before he spilled it. "I can just picture Lemay going to Tuvok... ... ." When he could speak again, he added "You are an evil man, Lt. Ayala."

"Thank you, Ensign Kim." Gregor considered Harry. He didn't seem to be uncomfortable, or angry. "Do you have any reaction to report from Lt. Paris?"

Harry sighed and started poking among the litter of phaser guts on the desk to conceal his unease. "No. He didn't speak to me all day. He wasn't at breakfast, and he rushed off right after his shift. I guess that could mean he's pissed at me, but he could just be up to some scheme." He was looking down, so missed the momentary flash of relief that passed across Gregor's eyes.

"Sometimes I think I've got him figured out," Harry continued. He picked up his wineglass and began to move around the room, idly touching various objects. "Sometimes I can see so clearly what makes him tick, why he tries so hard to hide behind this image of an amoral playboy. I can tell when he really cares about something by the way he makes sure you know he doesn't care. And when someone says something nasty about him, he laughs it off but I know it hurts him. Other times he goes off on a tangent, or reacts in some strange way, and I realize I have no idea what's going on inside his head."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Harry shrugged. "Depends. Tom and I have such different ways of looking at the world. Usually that's a good thing. He gets me to do things I wouldn't normally consider, to look at things in new ways. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes it's not. And I get him to relax, to stop trying so hard to prove to everyone that he's untouchable. He's so strong, inside I mean. He's a survivor. He's had all these horrible things happen to him, but he keeps on going. But he's also so afraid. I want... ." Harry stopped suddenly. His feelings about Tom, so clear for so long, had become cloudy and confused in the last day and he was no longer sure what he wanted. He turned to Gregor, and they stood for a long uncomfortable moment staring at one another.

"Harry, about last night... "

"Gregor, we should talk... "

They spoke simultaneously, and stopped at the same time. Harry smiled sheepishly and gestured for Gregor to go first.

"Harry, I hope you don't think that I meant to seduce you last night. I don't normally... I mean my intentions were honorable, well as honorable as they could be while we were planning to trick Chak and Tom, but toward you they were good... .I'm trying to say that I want you to know that I didn't start all this just to get you into bed... " Gregor stopped because Harry was shaking his head.

"You didn't seduce me, Gregor. We both wanted to. And I don't doubt your sincerity for a moment. But why did you leave so suddenly this morning?"

Gregor sighed. "I didn't want to face you. I thought you might be angry with me... . after all there I was in your bed while you love Tom... ." Gregor's voice trailed off. His last words had been a statement, but in his eyes there was a question. Harry was beginning to learn how to read those so dark eyes. He set his glass down and moved towards his companion.

"While you love Chakotay" he let the words hover between statement and question. Gregor caught the nuance. He turned to set his own glass on the desk and turned back to Harry, his arms opening.

Two steps and Harry would be in those arms. Two simple steps, movements of his legs like any of ten million other steps he'd taken in his lifetime, yet even as he took them he knew they would stand emblazoned in his memory forever. Physically it was a negligible distance, emotionally it was a yawning chasm. Two simple steps, then he was encircled by those arms, lifted up to meet Gregor face to face. He was lost, he was found. He fell into Gregor's dark eyes, drowning in their cobalt depths, submerged and subsumed yet still miraculously whole. More than whole, he was complete.

Gregor's lips claimed his, sending a jolt of fire directly to his groin. His tongue advanced like a conquering horde, laying waste all who dared to stand before it. Harry gave as good as he got, marking his own territory. His hands twisted in Gregor's hair, directing the kiss. He moved away from the mouth, working his way over Gregor's firm jawline to his neck. He sank his teeth into the muscle there, feeling the pulse pounding just below the skin. He was rewarded by an urgent moan, a wordless cry of pleasure.

Gregor carried him across the room and laid him gently among the pile of pillows, covering the smaller man's body completely with his own. Harry's mouth continued it's assault on his neck, ranging from a feather light touch of lips to a carnivorous gnawing. Gregor couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only feel as Harry rolled him over.

If their lovemaking the night before had been a nova like explosion, this was the long slow burn of controlled fusion. Equally as intense, as passionate, but their movements were almost languid. They stripped each other garment by garment, touching and kissing each new expanse of flesh thus exposed. Harry worked his nipples for what seemed like hours, alternating sharp teeth with soothing tongue. Gregor traced each individual muscle in Harry's upper body, licking each one from beginning to end. They explored each others hands, sucking every finger as if it were the first they'd ever seen. Gregor discovered that when he sucked, just so, at the inside of Harry's elbow lines of goose bumps would march up and down his arms. Harry found the spot just over Gregor's hip that pressed just hard enough, would render him helpless with laughter.

Harry worked his way upwards from Gregor's toes, kissing every inch in his path. He took Gregor's cock gently in his hand, running his fingers along it's length, bringing him to the edge then backing off. With his tongue he teased Gregor, at long last taking the whole of him into his mouth. Gregor's back arched and he let out a deep moan as Harry's nose met his pubes. Harry hands roamed his body, wandering across the smooth planes of his muscles. One finger pressed into him, entered him. Just as he was about to explode, Harry backed off and rolled him over, arranging his body almost face down, with one knee drawn up. Harry's tongue went to work on the tight ring between his asscheeks, wetting and relaxing him. A finger, then a second spread the muscle gently. Gregor's whole body was afire, waves of pleasure cresting and crashing through him. The need to have this man inside him was growing. It filled his gut, crawled up his spine, took over his brain so that every cell cried out with it.

Harry moved up to straddle his outstretched leg, one knee pressing his cock against his belly. The head of Harry's dick just barely touched his opening. Gregor pushed back against him, pressing a small bottle into his hand. The thick oil was worked into him and spread liberally over Harry's aching erection.

"Gregor... .are you ready?" he whispered.

Gregor had never been so ready. He could only growl. Harry laughed, a clear peal that filled Gregor with joy. Then Harry was pushing into him, slowly, so slowly. The feeling of being filled by Harry set off a cascade of orgasmic intensity, his every nerve firing. Harry was entranced by the sight of his flesh sinking into his lover's. His world had narrowed to this one point of contact between them.

Their rhythm was measured, stately. Each thrust a lifetime, as they savored the sensation, immersed themselves in this perfect moment. Harry could feel Gregor's pulse pounding in counterpoint to his own, could see his muscles ripples as the waves of pleasure rolled over him. Beat by beat they sped up, still matched, until the slap of their bodies meeting sounded like thunderclaps.

Harry exploded bare moments before Gregor, thrusting even harder into him and erupting with a wordless cry that transmuted into Gregor's name. The passion in Harry's voice, the hot gush of fluid into his guts, and the pressure against his prostate combined to send Gregor over the edge. His orgasm came in a sheet of lightning, burning through his nerves. Harry collapsed onto his back, sweat dripping, laughing.

Harry was roused from his post- coital doze by a mighty rumble.

"What was that?"

"Just my stomach," Gregor answered. "We never did get around to dinner, and I skipped breakfast."

Harry groaned. "I'm too tired to eat." He was betrayed by an equally load sound emanating from his own belly. Gregor laughed.

"Well, since you did all the heavy exercise, I guess I can go down to the mess and see if there's anything left from dinner." He began to move out from under his lover's body. Harry stopped him with a kiss, a long slow kiss filled with promise. Gregor felt himself begin to harden again, but his stomach let out another complaint.

A starship runs around the clock, even so there is a quiet time when most of the crew is sleeping and the lights are low. The Mess was dim and quiet as Gregor entered, with just enough light to make a raid on the leftovers. He was heading back out of the kitchen, two plates piled with the least objectionable looking items he could find when he saw the figure of a man silhouetted against the windows.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Hello, Gregor," came the reply. He recognized the voice and his blood went cold.

"Tom." He tried to sound casual, friendly. "What are you doing up in the middle of the night?"

"Couldn't sleep for worrying." Tom's voice was conversationally pitched, but his tone was cold and dangerous. Gregor moved to set the plates down and raise the lights. He wanted to be able to see Tom's face. Greater illumination revealed it to be hard and closed. Not the face of a man who wanted to have a friendly chat about the weather.

"Oh? What about?" Gregor kept his hands still, his tone and expression casual.

"Harry. And you."

"I see. Do you really think this is the time and place for this discussion?"

"Yes, I do, Lt. Right here and right now. You're going to listen to what I have to say." Tom's eyes pinned Ayala in place. They were cold, with an icy controlled rage. Gregor recognized the look, it was the look of a man who would not take 'No' for an answer.

"Very well. Have your say then, Lt."

"Leave Harry alone," was all Tom said. Gregor let the silence stretch, expecting some continuation.

"Is that it?" he finally asked.

"Pretty much. Harry's my friend, and I won't stand by and let him get involved with a piece of Maquis trash like you."

Gregor felt his temper begin to rise, and fought to keep his voice calm. He couldn't believe that Tom Paris of all people was calling him trash.

"I see. You don't think I'm good enough for him, do you?"

"No, you're not. You're nothing but an over muscled loser from a colony of losers, with no future and no talents."

Gregor's temper flared at the reference to his homeworld. His fists clenched and he could taste the adrenaline. "Who should he be with?" he growled. "You maybe? Do you think you're good enough for him, Tom? A three time loser, drummed out of Starfleet for incompetence, failed Maquis and convicted traitor? Is that what Harry deserves?" He saw the barb strike home as Tom's face paled.

With a scream they leapt at one another.

Harry had lain quietly for a short while after Gregor threw on his clothes and went in search of sustenance. But the space where his lover had lain rapidly cooled and Harry couldn't get back to sleep. It occurred to him that Gregor might need help carrying things, and even if he didn't the mess hall ought to be deserted at this time of night. He imagined for a moment Lemay's face if they managed to top the turbo-lift rumor so soon.

As he approached the mess he heard noises, a crash, a thud, a stifled cry of pain. He increased his speed, worried that Gregor might have dropped something or hurt himself somehow.

Worry transformed into stark amazement at the sight which greeted him. Gregor and Tom faced each other, circling slowly, so focused on their battle they hadn't registered his entrance. Both men were bleeding, there was something wrong with Tom's right arm, and through a bloody snarl he could see that Gregor was missing a front tooth. For a long moment Harry was too stunned to move, his brain refusing to accept the spectacle his eyes perceived. Then the tableau was broken as the two opponents closed once more, and with it Harry's paralysis.

"STOP IT!" he yelled, rushing forward to separate them. He came between them just in time to intercept a blow from Gregor meant for Tom's head, and a kick from Tom meant for Gregor's groin. A flash of bright pain, then darkness, as his body crashed senseless to the floor.

Captain Janeway finished the report and handed the padd back to Tuvok. She looked over the three sorry specimens standing at attention before her. The holodoc had set Paris' broken arm, and replaced the tooth Ayala had lost, but both still wore the torn and bloody tatters in which they had fought. Kim looked only slightly better off, his clothes were in one piece, though the front was covered in blood from the broken nose and he still stood slightly hunched over as though to protect his groin from further injury. All three of them were pale and sweating in fear of her wrath, and all three of them knew they deserved it.

She fixed them in place with the look she'd learned from Gene Paris, the 'Junior Officer On Toast' look. They managed to stand a little straighter, even Kim, and pale a shade further.

"Gentlemen," she began with a snarl. "According to your statements, you, Lt.'s Paris and Ayala, were in the middle of beating each other senseless when Ensign Kim tried to separate you. For which act of good sense he received a broken nose. Is this essentially correct?" Her voice cut through them like a dull and serrated knife, leaving gaping wounds as it's signature.

"Yes, Captain," they responded in unison.

"What it does not tell me, is why you were fighting in the first place."

Tom and Gregor stood in stony silence. Janeway came out from behind her desk to stand directly in front of Gregor. She looked up at the tall man, capturing his gaze with her own.

"Lt. Ayala?" she asked. "Can you enlighten me?"

His eyes flickered to his right for the barest moment, toward Harry beside him. He cleared his throat, stalling for time. "It... ... It was of a personal nature, Captain," he finally managed to say. She held his eyes for a moment more.

"Very well." She moved to take the same stance in front of Tom. "Lt. Paris?"

"I... I have nothing to add to my statement, Captain." His voice was flat and final, but his eyes made the same convulsive movement toward Harry, standing to his left.

She came last to Kim, softening her bearing by the slightest degree in recognition of the wounds he had already suffered in this incident. "Ensign Kim," she said quietly. "Do you have anything to add?"

Harry's eyes jerked, he couldn't decide which way to look, right to Tom or left to Gregor. "No, Captain," he said. His voice was high with confusion.

The Captain walked away from them to stand looking out the port, sorting through her impressions. Obviously the tension between Ayala and Paris had something to do with Harry Kim, and even she had heard the scuttle butt about his new relationship with Ayala. She couldn't interfere in an officer's private affairs, but when it erupted into violence she had to do something. She sighed softly to herself, this was one aspect of command she did not relish, even as she saw the need for it. She turned back to face her errant officers.

"Very well. Lt.'s Paris and Ayala, for fighting you are confined to quarters when not on duty for a period of one month. No visitors, and this most especially includes you, Ensign Kim. All three of you, for your less than complete candor, replicator privileges revoked for one month. Ensign Kim, you are dismissed." He opened his mouth to protest, but her cold demeanor froze the words in his throat. He turned and left her office, not relaxing his stance until he heard the door close behind him. With a great sigh, he leaned back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes in exhaustion. He was too tired to think about this right now. Instead he wondered what Janeway was saying to his... his brain ground to a halt. His two what? he asked himself.

As soon as the door had closed behind Kim, Janeway turned on the two remaining men. Her glare cranked up a notch, to what Gene Paris' subordinates had called 'Junior Officer Tartare'. Tom, at least, recognized it, his face fell for a moment to reveal true fear and remorse before the mask came back up.

"Lt's, I am going to speak frankly. Whatever is between the two of you regarding Mr. Kim is to end, right now. I will not allow your personal squabbles to interfere with the running of this ship, is that perfectly clear?" Her voice hadn't gone up in volume, but it's force shook them both. "I am sorely disappointed in both of you. Mr. Paris, I place a great deal of trust in you, DO NOT make me think that was a mistake. Mr. Ayala, I have given you a great deal of responsibility, on Commander Chakotay's recommendation, DO NOT make him think that was a mistake." She could see that she had made her point, both men flinched at her remarks. "The only reason you are not in the brig at this moment is that I need your skills. However, if this incident is repeated, I will NOT hesitate to throw you both in a cell and loose the code. Have I made myself understood?"

"Yes, Captain," they chorused.

"Very well. Dismissed to quarters."

Harry had waited for them, but once he was in the lift could think of nothing to say. Neither would meet his gaze, neither spoke. The lift deposited them on their deck and they stepped out. Tom's cabin was down the aft corridor, Gregor's in the opposite direction, Harry's straight ahead. They stood in a loose group for a moment, not wanting to part. Tom and Gregor glared at each other, but remained silent.

"Tom? Gregor? Talk to me!" Harry reached out a hand to each man.

Instead of taking the proffered hand, Gregor stepped up to him and took his face gently between his palms. He looked down into Harry's eyes and his cold, angry expression melted away. He leaned down and kissed Harry, a kiss that spoke all the words of passion and promise they hadn't had time to say last night. When he finished and moved away, his expression was serene, no expectation or pressure, just acceptance. Harry's knees were weak and his heart pounding.

Tom's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his daze as he was turned to face his friend. Tom's arms went around him, but it wasn't until their lips met that he understood what was happening. Tom's kiss was no less powerful, but it spoke of different things, of possibility and understanding. of long delayed pleasures and answers to questions he hadn't asked. Tom's face was his real face when he stepped back, not the mask but what lived beneath the mask.

Tom and Gregor locked eyes for a moment more, some silent bargain sealed between them, then both turned and headed down the corridors toward their quarters.

Harry stood there for the longest time, at the intersection of three paths, turning first one way then another, watching them both walk away.

end