The BLTS Archive - Season V: Round Two
by Bridget Cochran (bjcochran@aol.com)

---

1999

This is the Number 12 in the Season V Series which includes
The Way of All Flesh, A Friend in Need, A Friend in Deed, Pride's
Cloak, The Moon is Nothing, Conscious Betrayal, Molded Out of Faults,
No Signposts in the Sky, Moving Forward, Trust Comes With Effort and
10.a Trust Me. 

Spoilers for The Fight.

Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest. Archive at will,
including ASCEML, BLTs and AllSlash. This story involves the loving
sexual relationship between two adult men. If that sort of thing
bothers you, move along home.

I know this story has been a long time in coming. I apologize, it took
a long time cooking. My thanks to Karen, 3M, and everyone who's read
and supported me in this season long effort. I'm going to miss it this
summer.

---

It had taken Tom more than a few hours to disguise the paths he used
to alter the replicator. Hours of rerouting and detouring around
safety protocols to do what he hadn't done in a year or two. He was
replicating honest-to-goodness alcohol in the form of replicated
scotch whiskey. It didn't taste much like distilled malt, but it had
every bit the kick. And Tom needed the kick. He needed something.

Chakotay was in the holodeck, punching it out with some artificial
species. Boxing. A pretty aggressive hobby for a supposed pacifist.
Tom poured a tumbler full of amber ambrosia. He left the bottle open
on the table, pushing the chair back to rest his long legs up on the
table top.

He had offered to spar with the big guy tonight. Offered to be his
punching bag, but that offer was declined and Chakotay went to the
holodeck alone. Again. As he sipped the strong drink, he savored its
bite and wondered how to reach out to Chakotay.

Ostensibly, he had gradually moved into Chakotay's quarters. It was
bigger, and Tom didn't much care where he lived, as long as it wasn't
jail. So, he'd begun to feel at home. But, now, he felt like unwanted
baggage.

In his several attempts to find out what was going on in Chakotay's
head since their bout with chaotic space, Tom was rebuffed. At first
politely, then with long, hard, silent stares that rooted Tom to the
ground, rendering him silent. He took another sip and stared into his
thoughts.

There was still sex. Hot, hard, silent sex. It was good, but it was
silent. Tom didn't actually mind that he was on the bottom, now that
his rectum was getting callused. He shifted in his seat.

A short time ago, Tom had been face down on the bed, a pillow under
his hips grunting as Chakotay silently pounded him into the mattress,
grunting in answer to Tom's taunts. "Come on, you can do better than
that."

Chakotay slowed his punishment, pulling out until the tip of his cock
only brushed against the rim. He held Tom's hips still, his fingers
marking the flushed flesh. Their breathing was the only movement and
it brought the dick into fleeting contact with Tom's pleasure.

"Christ," Tom hissed, "you are a bastard." He tried to slam back, but
he wasn't going anywhere. No damn where. "What do you want?" he
whispered.

But, true to form lately, Chakotay said nothing.

"Just do it."

Chakotay made no move.

"Please, fuck me."

No move.

"Please."

Christ. To have to beg for what was his. He never remembered Chakotay
to be so cruel, but there it was. Then Chakotay hammered home, beating
into him relentlessly and he pushed himself over the edge, taking Tom
with him.

Tom lay on the bottom, between the pillow and semen and Chakotay and
semen, trying to pull some air in between. That didn't last long. The
older man was up and off him before Tom's brain had reengaged. The
cool air of his departure brought a feeling of bereavement to Tom. God
damn it. Tom turned over. He had semen all over his gut and all over
his back. Chakotay had withdrawn again, not even coming inside of him.

Chakotay was in the bathroom, running water. Tom heard the sound of
brushing teeth. Guess the honeymoon was over in another sense. Didn't
seem like Chakotay was going to bring him a wash rag anytime soon.
Rolling out of bed he moved to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" he blurted in a very unappealing tone. Chakotay
didn't even look up from pulling on his gym shorts.

"I asked you a question," Tom said as he picked up a cloth that
Chakotay had apparently used and swiped at his abdomen.

The dark head rose, the stare in place. He would have stared Tom
through the deck if he could. It didn't escape him that Chakotay was
dressed in his favorite off duty gear of late: his sparring trunks.
Son of a bitch was heading to the holodeck again. "Clean up my back,"
Tom ordered, handing the cloth to Chakotay.

It was an impersonal cleansing at best. The rag hit the sink and
Chakotay was past Tom, and into the bedroom without a word. Chilly
bastard, Tom thought as he followed.

He didn't follow fast enough, Chakotay was through the day room and
out in the corridor before Tom could tell him to halt. So, there he
stood, naked, hands on hips in the middle of the day room wondering
what train had hit him.

---

Chakotay couldn't beat the stuffing out of the punching bag. Couldn't
hit the bulbous thing hard enough. He's not sure when the brown head
shaped leather became Tom, but it had.

Yes, he did remember. In his delusions, his hallucinations. There was
that cocky, arrogant bastard of his Maquis days, taking bets against
Chakotay. Gritting his teeth, he pounded his fists onto the hard
surface. It didn't have a lot of give.

Spirits, embarrassment didn't cover what he felt about his trip
through chaotic space. Trip--that's exactly what it was. A tremendous
psychedelic--was that the word Tom used?--experience that left him raw
with shame.

The Demento Gene. Tom had laughed it off. It wasn't funny, it was
Chakotay's worst fear. The fear of this horrible gene, handed down
through the generations; a gene that eroded all rational thought until
gradually you swirled between the rational world and all encompassing
psychosis. He pounded harder, the punching bag and his fists a blur.

Demento Gene. It wasn't funny, goddamn it. It scared him, made him
shake with fear. The fear kept him from contacting his spirit guide,
kept him from moving on with his life. Didn't Tom understand that?

Obviously not. Just joked about it. "Look on the bright side. You'll
have me to wipe the dribble from your chin when you go over to the
other side."

In that moment, Chakotay wanted to wipe the smile off of the pale face
with his fists. "How comforting," he said after a long moment, and
walked away.

He'd come straight to the holodeck and sparred as if going for the
prize. No heading for the ropes this time. No fear of injury. Fuck no.
He pounded his partner relentlessly, knocked him out. And the next
partner, until Boothby told him to hit the showers.

The showers weren't all he wanted to hit. He cleaned up and went home.
Tom was there, waiting with an expectant look on his face, wondering
what was the matter. Chakotay wanted to ignore the solicitous behavior
but Tom grabbed him by the arm as he moved past him.

"What did I do?" Tom wanted to know.

Chakotay sighed. He had to shut the guy up or he'd scream. So, he
kissed him, hard; pulling him in, fingers tangling roughly in the
blond hair. Their jaws met, mouths opened, as he sucked the air out of
Tom. "Take your clothes off," he ordered as he began to do the same.

Tom frowned even as he complied, removing his clothes in tandem with
Chakotay. In the bedroom, he handed the lube to Chakotay knowing by
the man's demeanor that he'd be stuffed and mounted, one way or the
other. The older man barely looked at him as he applied the gel to his
stiffening prick. "What, no foreplay?" Tom was only half kidding.

I kissed you didn't I? Chakotay didn't say out loud. He walked up to
Tom still stroking his own filling dick and pulled Tom's semi-soft
cock into his slippery hand. With firm strokes that weren't exactly
rough, Chakotay coaxed a little response from Tom. The pilot hunched
into the pressure, quickly getting ready for what promised to be a
wild ride.

"On all fours."

"Yessir," Tom snapped, but crawled on the bed as ordered. Chakotay
knelt behind him, pushing the fur covered thighs apart and applying
his slick fingers to the bud presented to him. Tom arched and moaned,
his groans catching in his throat like a gurgle. He stabbed a little
harder, bringing Tom backward onto his hand.

"Ready? "

"Hell, yeah," Tom said through gritted teeth.

It was all the invitation Chakotay needed to slide in and home. But he
didn't last long. Tom wouldn't stay still, the hard pounding exciting
the man beneath him far more than Chakotay ever expected. The
gyrations did nothing for his reserve. He surged forward in the spasms
of release.

He rolled off Tom immediately, ticked that it was over so quickly
before both men could get anything more out of it but lust. But, hell,
mutual lust was better than singular lust.

Maybe. Tom moved in for the cuddle. "My turn to get the wash rag," he
murmured into Chakotay's neck.

"I'll get it." He was up and out of bed, moving to the bathroom before
Tom could object. Washing himself off quickly, he handed the dripping
cloth to Tom before moving to put his shorts back on.

"You're wearing clothes to bed?" Tom asked, a frown creasing his brow.

Chakotay stifled the sigh. "I have some paperwork to do."

"Now?"

Tom's disbelief irritated Chakotay. He turned to stare at the flushed
face, a dark brow arched into the tattoo. "Now."

If Tom would have mentioned the Demento Gene then, Chakotay was sure
he would have decked him.

The younger man didn't know the true wisdom of his silence. Tom got
out of bed, pulled his own pants on and followed Chakotay into the day
room. He fell asleep on the sofa waiting for Chakotay to finish.

---

The door chime went. A smile twisted across Tom's face. Now who could
that be? Tom thought. He knew. "Come on in, Tuvok."

The door slid aside to reveal the tall, dark figure of Voyager's
Security Chief dressed in the most informal of casual clothes. Tuvok
stepped just inside the quarters and no further.

"Can I offer you a drink?"

The brow arched.

"That's why you're here, isn't it? Someone told you I was making
alcohol again?"

A slight nod accompanied, "Yes, I would like to join you."

What? Tom pulled his feet off the table and sat up straight. "Ok-ay."
He reached for another tumbler from the water set on the table. He
poured a little in the bottom, looking at Tuvok for input. The Vulcan
nodded, Tom poured a little more. "You aren't here to confiscate the
bottle then?"

"Not just yet. May I sit?"

"Please do." Tom poured himself another before settling back in his
chair.

The Vulcan sat down, his eyes never leaving the man across the table
from him. "The commander is on the holodeck."

"Uh-huh." Tom took a long draw on his drink. His eyes flickered to a
middle space, staring blindly.

"He has been there frequently in the last few days."

"Yeah," Tom smiled without mirth. "When he isn't on duty or pounding
my ass." Tom colored at the intimate reference, but didn't apologize.

"I am concerned about his behavior."

"You're concerned?" Tom actually snorted and drained his glass. "He
won't talk to me. I have followed him around this room for the last 3
days, since we broke free of chaotic space. I've tried to be
understanding. I've been the most sensitive shit on the face of the
earth."

Tuvok's brow rose at the archaic ethnocentric reference. They shared a
look. "I have to tell you, Tuvok, I'm ready to blow."

"You only had to ask me to come, you did not need the ruse of alcohol
reproduction," Tuvok said in a voice that had no censure.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have the alcohol."

Tom smiled at Tuvok's silence. It was good for Tuvok to be here. In
less than a week Tom felt like his relationship with Chakotay had hit
vacuum, evaporating with light speed. The only thing they seemed to
have was sex, but that was pretty one sided and after the first couple
of poundings, was becoming just an act of release, not love. His smile
was gone and a frown took its place. "I get the feeling that Chakotay
blames me for a lot of this."

Tuvok was silent.

"I feel pretty helpless, and it's starting to piss me off." Tom poured
what would be his last glass. He didn't offer anymore to Tuvok, the
older man had only taken a small sip of his scotch. "I want to punch a
hole into his face."

"To what purpose?"

"To get his attention."

"It would do that."

"It would piss him off."

"Undoubtedly."

Tom sighed. "He already seems pissed off to me."

Again Tuvok was silent.

The frustration Tom felt brought him forward in his seat. "He looks at
me with such anger, yet he won't tell me where it comes from. I know
it came from chaotic space--and the activation of his Demento Gene."

Tuvok's nostrils flared at the reference. "This gene would be the
source of Chakotay's anger."

"But why doesn't he tell me about it?"

"Tell you what?"

"About the Demento Gene."

"Why would he feel you wanted to know?"

Tom slammed back into his chair, his frustration at Tuvok's questions
plain. "Because I ask him over and over again. You're being vague,
Tuvok."

"I'm helping you clarify."

"Yes, Tuvok," Tom mocked. "I understand that. Get to the point."

Tuvok to a long, slow pull of his drink. Oh, that was just like him,
Tom thought, leave the emotional human hanging by his toes. Tuvok
stared at Tom in seeming dispassion. "Is 'Demento Gene' the clinical
name for Chakotay's condition?"

"No," Tom said, "it's--" He paused when he caught the look in Tuvok's
eyes. "You know what the name of it is."

"I do."

Tom stared into his friend's eyes for along time. "The Demento Gene," 
he whispered. He stared a few moments, wondering what had just hit 
him. "I thought I was being sensitive to him, being here when he 
needed me." A hand dragged through his hair to end up at the back of 
his neck. "Demento Gene," he said again. "Gods, he must really hate 
me."

"I am unsure of the emotion Chakotay currently holds for you, but he
is unhappy."

"Well, you can be sure of that," Tom said. "Demento Gene. Christ, I'm
a jerk." He got up to pace the room, continuing the unforgiving rub of
his hair.

"Among other things."

Tom turned at Tuvok's words, ready to shoot something nasty back when
he saw the gentle look in Tuvok's eyes. "That's not funny, Tuvok."

"What is humor to one man, is hurtful to another. Regardless of your
intent."

Looking down at Tuvok, who sat placidly returning his gaze, Tom felt
like a prize ass. Tuvok did condescension with the proficiency of a
Vulcan in his second century. Treated Tom like an emotional cripple.
Or a self-centered human. "I hate that."

"What do you hate?" the Vulcan asked.

"When you do that lightening analysis."

"I have done nothing of the sort," Tuvok said and stood as well. "I
have come to this and several more conclusions over the course of the
3.22 days since we extracted ourselves from chaotic space."

"There are other observations?" Tom wanted to know.

"Commander Chakotay has experienced deep and profound trauma. His
psyche has been impacted in ways that we cannot imagine unless he
shares his thoughts with us. To speculate on what he feels is not
productive."

"What **would** be productive, Tuvok?"

"To listen when the commander speaks."

Tom rolled his head around in frustration. "He doesn't speak, Tuvok,
that's the problem."

"You will have to force him to speak."

This was ridiculous. "How do I do that?"

"You, Tom, were a Star Scout." A brow rose.

What? "And?"

"Be resourceful."

Tom jumped a foot when the corridor door opened to admit Chakotay.
Tuvok turned to look at the commander who stood looking from one man
to the next. "Am I interrupting something?" Chakotay asked but was not
really interested in the answer. He looked at the liquor bottle open
on the table, and the two glasses.

"No, we have discussed all we wish to," Tuvok said as he watched
Chakotay pour himself a drink. Tom's frown matched his own. "I will
leave you now."

Chakotay nodded, and downed the scotch in one burning gulp. One last
raised brow glance at Tom, and Tuvok left the room.

The glass landed on the table. The back of his hand wiped his mouth,
he reached out for Tom, anger once again coming to the surface. Tom
feinted back. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I want you."

"You want to hurt me."

Chakotay smirked. "Thought you liked it rough."

"Once in a while, but not a steady diet."

"Too damn bad," Chakotay said as he grabbed him and took him down. Tom
hit his back with a thud. In the moment that the wind flew out of his
lungs, Chakotay pinned him to the ground, covering him with his body.

Tom felt the erection through Chakotay's pants as he was held in the
body pin. The fight he was putting into getting the ton of bricks off
of him was unwittingly erotic. He stopped moving. Chakotay didn't.
Guess the asshole didn't notice that Tom wasn't participating. Fingers
tracked up under Tom's shirt, pushing through the chest hair to grasp
Tom's pec.

"Stop it," Tom hissed.

"No."

"No?" Tom was exasperated now. "I said, stop it, Chakotay."

"I don't want to."

Tom refrained from the nasty digs that came to his mind. "I know you
don't," he said quietly. "But you have to."

Chakotay stared down at Tom, the light of what he was doing coming
into his eyes. "Spirits," he cursed, pulling his hand out from under
the sweatshirt and away from Tom. He would have pushed off of his
lover's body, but Tom grabbed his wrist.

The dark eyes turned black as they narrowed on Tom, but the blond was
undaunted. "I want you, don't mistake that. But I want love, not sex."

Chakotay's lip curled. "What were you and Tuvok talking about?
Psychobabble?" He tried to break out of the hold on his wrist. He
wasn't going anywhere.

"We were talking about how stupid I am."

Well, that brought a smile to the harsh expression. "And the
conversation is already over?"

Now blue eyes darkened. This wasn't gonna be easy. "That part of it's
over." He tried to keep his tone even, and his jaw from setting. "Now,
it's your turn to tell me how stupid I am."

Chakotay looked at him with that same hard look he'd used for days.
Tom wanted to reach right out and rabbit punch the look off his face,
but he settled for holding on to the wrist until the finger prints
would be bruised into the dark skin. "Not likely."

The grip was not released, even as Chakotay moved to stand. Tom rolled
with him, but lost the connection when he was off balance. But
Chakotay didn't move away from him.

Tom sighed as he raised a tentative hand to Chakotay's face. The older
man didn't actually flinch, but Tom knew he was just enduring the
touch of the hand on his face. "You look tired."

"I am."

"You want a cup of tea?"

"No."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Another drink."

Tom nodded. Chakotay didn't drink, but the younger man poured another
couple of ounces for him, handing the tumbler over to him. This time
the liquor was not gulped. It was sipped steadily until it was
consumed.

They stood and stared at each other. "You want to talk, so talk."

Tom shifted from foot to foot, unsure of where to begin. The smirk
that eased onto Chakotay's face pissed Tom off. "Okay," he said, "I'm
not your bottom boy. At least not for a while."

"You never told me you didn't like it." Chakotay moved to the couch.

"I do like it. Every once in a while. But a steady diet of it is only
gonna lead to hemorrhoids."

Tom could do one of two things. He could slug Chakotay for the smirk
the last statement brought. Or he could laugh with Chakotay and savor
the sight of the relaxing face. It'd been forever since he saw
dimples.

But Tom didn't relax. "Why are you so angry with me?" Tom sat tensely
beside him, half afraid that Chakotay would grab him in a choke hold.

Chakotay didn't want to have this conversation. Didn't want to be in
the same room with Tom right now. But he was tired. Dog tired. He lay
deep into the sofa, preparing himself for the inevitable.

"You were no help when we were in chaotic space."

"Huh?" Tom sat up like a shot. "No help? Who got you to Sick Bay in
the first place? Who found you here on the floor with your head in a
sling? Goddamn it, I was a mess the whole time. Christ, the doctor
even wanted to sedate me."

Chakotay wasn't interested. His eyes blanked out and glazed over. How
the hell was Tom going to get through to him? "It broke my heart to
see you like that, and be so out of control of the situation." Tom
said quietly. "If you thought I was no help to you, I'm sorry. I
tried. But I was pretty helpless." And hopeless. Like always, Tom hit
a certain point in a situation and the fight went out of him. Now he
was tired of the whole fucking ordeal. If Chakotay thought he was no
help, then he was no help. No goddamned help. He pulled himself off
the couch, but stood there in indecision.

Tom knew his face was pretty plainly telling the tale of his emotion,
but he wouldn't help either one of them if he said what was on his
mind. "Um." He didn't know what to do or say to make the situation
better.

Chakotay relented. Tom really had no way of knowing what horrors were
in his mind. He had to admit that. But the sores were still raw, they
festered into his consciousness, effecting his everyday life. And
screwed with his relationships. He held a hand out to Tom.

He understood Tom's wary look, understood that he'd done a ton of
damage, that he was nowhere near undoing it. Tom took the offered hand
and was pulled stiffly into his arms.

They were both pretty stiff, like they were holding dates their
parents put them up to.

"I really wanted to help, Chakotay."

"I know." His voice was a breath. "I was talking about inside the
delusion. You weren't very supportive then. You were taking bets
against me." Tom stiffened, tried to pull away, but he was going
nowhere.

"I'd never do that."

"I didn't know that. Nobody had much faith in me, in my head. Even
me."

"I remember that."

"What do you remember?"

Tom took a deep breath. "How scared you were. How you didn't want this
responsibility."

"I didn't, I still don't." Chakotay rubbed his face, then rubbed Tom's
shoulder, making gentle circles with his thumb. "Chaotic space has
changed my life forever."

Tom tried to twist out of the grasp again, but settled immediately. He
was frustrated, "The Doc is working night and day to figure out how to
repress the gene, Chakotay."

"I know that, Tom. But until then, I have to have hypos everyday,
can't go on extended away missions because of the medications--I feel
debilitated."

"And you think I have no faith in you?" Tom's voice was thick with
emotion.

Chakotay was silent. "I don't know what I feel. I know that I'm angry
at the universe. Angry at my heritage."

Tom waited for Chakotay to finish. He'd wait all night if that were
necessary.

After a while, Chakotay said, "I met my grandfather in the
hallucinations."

"You did?"

"He seemed to be happy with his fate."

"Maybe he was."

Again, silence. "I don't remember him as being happy."

"Because you were unhappy then?"

Chakotay rested his face on the back of Tom's neck. "I was unhappy. I
was mad at the universe for being stuck on my home world when there
was a big, wild universe out there going on without me. He just seemed
happy hearing his voices." Another pause. "Maybe someone or something
was really trying to tell him something."

Maybe. Tom kept that thought to himself. "Did you forget that I love
you?" he asked after a long pause.

"I didn?t forget," Chakotay said, not moving his face, "It just
irritated me."

Tom swallowed. "It still does?"

The sigh said things to Tom, he once again tried to get away. "You're
not going anywhere Tom. Unless you really want to."

"I--I want to know what you want me to do," Tom grasped the arm snaked
around his waist. "I'm tired of being stared at and pounded on--I'm
tired of you withdrawing. It's the only way you seem to know how to
deal with conflict."

"I'm sorry I'm not perfect." The words were chilly.

"I don't think I said you have to be perfect. Just a little more
open."

"That's a big change you're asking for."

"Uh-huh." Tom had stopped breathing. "I think I'm worth it."

"You do?"

Tom's heart was pounding. When did it become do or die time? "Yeah,"
he whispered. "I'm worth a little effort. I'm not gonna run, I'm not
going anywhere--so there has to be some adjustment from both of us."

"It's not that simple."

Now Tom did break the grip, and twisted to look at the man he loved.
"Hell, no, it's not that simple. How the hell simple could it be with
you and me involved? Gods, you are thick sometimes." Tom stopped a
minute. "Chakotay, you mean pretty much everything to me. Good or bad,
I can take it, if you just tell me." He looked into the dark eyes,
eyes that held stubborn uncertainty.

"I'm a very private person."

"No shit, Sherlock," Tom fumed. "I'm not. We have to find a comfort
level of sharing that suits both of us."

"How long do you think that's going to take?"

Tom opened his mouth to respond, but noticed the light come to
Chakotay's eyes. He twisted his face in a parody of hard thinking. "I
don't know, you're a couple of years older than me. I'd guess about
sixty, seventy years."

The younger man laid back into Chakotay's embrace, relaxing for the
first time in days. The older man wrapped his arms easily around the
body that settled into his arms. "We haven't repaired everything," he
warned Tom.

"You do want to repair it, don't you?" Fear was in Tom's voice.
Chakotay wrapped his arms a little tighter. "I do," he said as he
rubbed his face in Tom's hair. "I'm going to take a couple of days
off. I need to meditate." He paused. "And talk to Tuvok."

Tom's eyes closed as he thanked the gods. But he couldn't help it,
"You aren't just saying this to get me off your back."

"Is that all it would take?" Chakotay mocked.

Tom snuggled deeper. And hoped they would be alright.

---

The End