The BLTS Archive - Breaking by JanK (jan.k1@virgin.net) --- DATE: 6TH NOV 1998 Setting: Mid/Early fifth season, AU. (Inspiration to Robbie Williams's song "No regrets") Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek. I merely claim these few meagre words. --- Part One: The Captain underestimates the strength of his feeling for her. --- "What would you have me do!" Her cry was anguished. This was turning out to be far more upsetting than she had anticipated. His eyes accusing. Bright, glinting with unshed tears. "Tell me a story". It was less than a whisper. "Tell me a story of love and join me in it. Give it a happy ending?" "I can't" "Why." He took a deep, sighing breath. "Why is it so hard?" "What? Why is what so hard?" "Why is it so hard...." he swallowed, "so hard... to love me?" He raised his eyes from the floor and met with hers. She winced at the bare pain she saw there. "It's not that, it's not that at all. You know how I feel. You know the regulations. It's not right, not proper. You know how he feels about me, about you. You know why I can't do this anymore. You said 'just for fun, no regrets'. I told you before, this is way out of hand. I can't live a lie." "A lie. Is that what I am? Just a lie?" He sat back heavily in the chair. "Tell me you didn't really say that." A single tear crept down his face. "Oh hell, this is not going how I meant it." "And how was it supposed to go!" His anger filled the room. He stood up and walked away from her, Spinning around to face her, his bitterness suddenly evident. "Was I supposed to just shrug and say 'thank you'? Thank you for the wild ride, thank you for the pain, thank you for the lonely nights, thank you , thank you, thank you, Thank...you..." He folded then. His arms reaching around his middle. Hugging in the pain, the anguish, pulling comfort from the only one he could trust and his sobs filled the room. Her hands were reaching out, her eyes filling. She had done this to him. She had stripped him of his defences, knocked down his walls and forced him to open his heart to her. Then she had ripped it out. "I am so sorry" He shook his head at her, backing away from her embrace. "Don't," he could barely speak, the word a breath between sobs. He turned away, his shame at giving in to his heartache in the face of her stillness too much. She stepped close behind him. Hand touching shoulder, feeling his body jerk away. She reached for him again. The mist in her own eyes taking him from her view. "I never meant to hurt you." "I never meant to love you." Whispered. She barely heard it. She couldn't leave then, not then. "I'm sorry?" Had she heard him right? "Did you just say that you love me?" She moved around to face him, hand never breaking contact with his shoulder, holding him, rooting him to the spot. His eyes were closed. "Look at me." Her command voice. "Answer me." He stayed silent, his breathing ragged, his face still showing his tears. "You have to answer me!" "Why! So you can tell me it's not real? That I'll get over it? You heard it. I said it. I'll not say it again. Don't worry." Defeat in his voice, his eyes met hers and she saw the heat in them fade. "So we could speak of how you feel. But I can see there's no talking to you tonight. I've had enough of this, of these histrionics. You've had enough, I've had enough and you don't want me here any more do you." She reached up a hand and touched his face and spoke more softly now. "Do you?" "Want you?" "No. Want me here." "I will always want you, here, anywhere." "That's not exactly what I meant and you know it." "All I know at the moment is that you were in the process of ending my life, ending my dreams, of breaking my heart." He took a deep breath and stared her full in the face. "And now you're asking to stay. For what? A mercy fuck? A good-bye this is what you're missing good time? Or were you going to hold my hand while I cried myself to sleep!" He grabbed her by her arms and brought her so close. "What do you want from me?!" "You're hurting me." "I mean to." "Don't do this to us..." She kept her voice even, hiding her sudden fear of him. His voice, so cold. "Us!" He was shouting now. "There is no 'US'! There never was an 'us'. You always made sure of that! And now you stand there, so calm, so unruffled, as if you do this every day. How can you do this to ME?!" He pushed her from him and she stumbled, surprised by the speed of his action, tripping backwards, falling, reaching out, the shock clear on her face. Her cry cut short. His continuing. "No! Kathryn! No, no, no, Oh God , Kate no." He held her hand, so still. "I never meant to hurt you." --- Part Two: The aftermath. The Doc works on the Captain. Paris reflects. --- It was a scene from hell. His hell, his making, his fault. There was blood, too much, on his hands... hitting his comm badge, his voice calling for help automatically.... on her, on him. Blood, too much blood. He held her as her life seeped away, soaking into the carpet, soaking his knees, warm against his skin, Too much, too pale. "Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn." He rocked her gently, holding her tightly, chanting her name "Kathryn." A mantra to ward off evil, to stave off the night now closing fast around her. "Kathryn." His tears falling, mingling with the red. Too much blood, too still. He would not let them take her from him, clinging desperately, eyes blazing, protest vehement. Strong hands pulled at him. Angry voices raised, his name shouted. Panic evident in their voices. Tuvok. A quiet order given in the mayhem. They faded from view. A hypospray in hand the Doctor waited, warned. Moving forward the instant the harrowing scene appeared. A soft hiss and his cries were silenced, body slumped, tears stilled. Pushing the Lieutenants body unceremoniously to the side the Doctor pulled the lifeless form of his Captain's body into his arms placing her gently and with practiced ease upon the bed. No words, just quick precise movement. No questions, no time, he worked feverishly above her, activating consoles, administering drugs, casting aside Chakotay's insistent questions, pushing away, directing him to deal with the prostrate lieutenant. Chakotay could not move, his heart pounding, eyes blurring as he took in the still form before him. She looked so beautiful, so pale, so ethereal. He thought his heart would burst from the pain that hit him. This couldn't be happening he kept telling himself, why... "Only this morning she was on the bridge full of life." The last spoken aloud without realising, prompting the Doctor. "If you want to see her there again I suggest that you stay out of my way, Commander." The Doctor pushed him lightly in the direction of Tom Paris. "Commander, please, Mr. Paris needs attention. Place him on bed four." He returned to his task with a sigh. Finding it almost impossible, he began to access ways of maintaining life as efficiently as possible when the brain activity was negligible. He would inform the Commander of the Captain's imminent demise only when he was certain he had exhausted all his available database. The Commander stood above the Lieutenant, wiping his eyes, rubbing his hand impatiently over his face, stretching the muscles of his jaw, locked tight. He would just as soon leave this man on the floor as help him. He was the bane of his life, recently come to call him friend, still never really trusting him. The man an enigma to him, alternately baiting then supporting him, sardonic, mocking, occasionally scornful, yet never cruel, always compassionate, the cynical attitude understandable in light of his life so far. Chakotay stirred him with his foot, and now, this, the biggest mistake of this young mans life, his ultimate betrayal of one whom he had revered above all others. Stirring, waking, showing only confusion at his situation, to see Chakotay, tall, standing over him. This rapidly giving way to anguish and distress as memory returned. He let out a pitiful cry and pulled his arms tight about his middle, his knees drawing up. The pain, the guilt racking his body until he thought he should split into a thousand pieces. His reaction confirmed in Chakotay's mind where the responsibility for this whole debacle lay and he felt himself flooded by a sudden and excessive anger and hatred at this man before him. Shocking him with its intensity he was spurred into action. Roughly jerking Paris to his feet by the front of his shirt, he ground out the words. "What happened? If you lie to me, Paris...I'll... so help me, punch, I'll..." He broke off. The threat, implied, enough. His passion, his intensity, broke through the fog in Paris' mind and he looked fearfully into the Commanders eyes, almost black in the intensity of his passion. "Oh God! Chakotay please tell me she's alive, please. I have to see her, please!." He strained away from Chakotay's grasp, looking for her, unsteady, still groggy from the sedative. "You are not going anywhere near her ever again!" He swung the lighter man away easily, pulling him by his shirt front out of sickbay into the corridor beyond. Startled crew members scattered as, adjusting his hold to the young mans collar, he dragged him bodily through the ship until they reached the brig. All the way muttering imprecations and promises of dire retribution should the unthinkable happened. If the Captain should die. --- Memories assailed him, driving through him, inflicting their agonies on the young lieutenant as he slept fitfully on the hard bed in the brig. Memories of three friends whose lives had been so sharply cut short, of accusing faces, of his mothers stricken look. Memories of loneliness, of drifting, of drink induced nightmares all melding into one. Memories of desperate flight, of certainty of capture, of yet another failure in his short life. Memories of the walls closing around him, of the hatred, the hurt, the longing to be free, the ache to be flying. All pervading, engulfing him in misery. And now a new memory racked him and he cried out in his sleep and reached a desperate hand to save, grasping at air. The cries grew more desperate. He could see red, only red, his hands red, red about his feet, red everywhere, and Kathryn, pale against the colour, reaching out to him. He could not reach her and there was so much blood, so much. The hands began to pull at him then, voices shouting his name, faces swimming before his eyes, accusing and they were pulling her away from him as it grew dark around them, the fading light showing only an empty space where once she had been. "KATHRYN!" Tom Paris awoke, startled, sitting up, horror in his eyes, her name on his lips. He was bathed in sweat, yet felt cold, he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, struggling to gain control of his erratic breathing. He gazed around taking in his surroundings, remembering with sudden, heart stopping clarity the events leading to his imprisonment. He dropped his head into his hands, groaning at the injustice of his life that always seemed to lead him to this. Tom heard a disparaging snort and looked up to see Ayala standing in front of the force field. "If I had my way Paris you wouldn't be here. You'd have been spaced already. Bastard!" Tom dropped his head back down. He'd been in too many bars and spent long enough in prison not to know when it was time to keep quiet. Ayala was not so easily placated. He was determined to let Paris know exactly what he and the others thought of him. Not just Ex-Maquis, they had long ago melded into one crew, Maquis and Starfleet together against all who would hurt them. At the moment that included Lieutenant J.G. Thomas Eugene Paris. He walked slowly back to his station, uttering insults as he went. Tom watched the feet recede, thinking He rolled back onto the bed, facing the wall, lost in thought and self-recrimination. Desperate to know the fate of his love but too proud to turn to Ayala and ask. Trying to maintain some dignity in this nightmare that was his life. He was deep in thought, wondering if she was alive or dead, imagining his life if she died or even if she lived, dreading the inevitable changes. Thinking of her words to him, "no regrets," and how pointless the whole conversation had been. Wondering if Harry would be able to see him, feeling desperate to see his face, then paling at the thought that Harry may not want him as a friend. The true horror of his situation began to be clear to him. At best he had to be charged with assault, at worst, murder. Anything was going to be bad, Harry, B'Elanna, Neelix, they all worshipped the Captain. He was bereft, the bleakness of his future too much to contemplate. He buried his face in his arms not wanting to face the world. Tom was so caught up in his own misery that the sound of the force field dropping failed to register. The first he knew of their attack was when he was grabbed brutally and flung bodily across the cell. He was quick to his feet and faced them, his own bitter anger at life fuelling his aggression. If they wanted a fight he would give them one. Beckoning them on, a mocking smile in place. But when they moved against him he welcomed the first blow, arms open, defences down. He deserved this. He needed this. Do it. He thought. End this pain. --- Part Three: The Doctor gives Chakotay some bad news. --- Harry had decided to leave visiting Tom until tomorrow. He was afraid. Afraid of what he would hear from Tom. Afraid of what he would say. He had heard the rumours, heard some of the things said about him. He didn't want to find out that they were true. He knew in his heart that Tom was waiting. He knew he ought to go, but he was not only afraid of having his worst fears confirmed, he was angry too. Angry at Tom for being the cause of such worry, for upsetting their 'Family', for nearly taking away his Captain. He got up yet again and moved to the replicator. "Warm milk, sweet." He leaned his head against the cold wall. He had to speak to someone, he decided to see B'Elanna. --- B'Elanna paced. Up and down. Endlessly. He had confused and bewildered her and she hated it. So she paced. The door chimed and she called out impatiently. "Come!" Harry stepped hesitantly in through the door. "Oh! It's you Harry. It's late Starfleet, what can I do for you?" Her brusque attitude almost sent him on his way but he felt he had to talk to someone, so he stayed, standing awkwardly in the middle of her room. B'Elanna was not unkind, she began to see how distressed Harry was and taking his arm she brought him to sit with her on the couch. "Harry? Talk to me?" "It's Tom." She raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I expected it would be." "B'Elanna what are we going to do?" "Do? How can we do anything? I'm not even sure that I want to do anything." She got up and began to pace again, unable to sit still. Her anger bubbling up through her the more she thought of him. "I'm sorry? You don't want to?" He was surprised at her attitude. She stopped and faced him, arms folded, defensive. "Look Harry lets face some facts here shall we? First. You ask me why I don't want to do anything. Think Harry. Up until a short while ago we were together, we were happy, we had plans. I hit a rocky path and he just disappears from my life, starts shutting me out, not asking me over, acts like he doesn't care, almost never sees me. Then I find out they've had some 'lovers tiff'. Do you think I'd want to help?" "B'Elanna you don't know that!" "But if it's true!" She ground her teeth in exasperation. "Then I'd just want to kill him!" She stared at the ceiling calming herself. "Second. Even if it wasn't a lovers tiff what was he doing with her? Tell me that! Third. Look at the Captain. Someone did that to her and the only person near her was Tom. Do I have to say any more Harry?" Folding her arms, she waited, challenging him with her whole body, her whole demeanour, to argue. "No." Harry was miserable. "It's just that, well, you should hear what they're saying about him." Harry sat down on her couch and covered his face with his hands, letting out a tired sigh. "I know. The rumour mill is rife, full of melodramatic stories of a love scorned, a lover spurned. That is just not Tom!" B'Elanna joined him again on the couch, flopping back, eyes closed. "But it is just that Harry, rumours, nothing more." "I know, but that's not all. There are other stories too. Stories about how evil he is, of his past, about what his future is going to be like. B'Elanna It's awful. I've heard stories about him raping her, murdering her, of how he's always hated us, hated her. And they've all come to me, probing me for information. Do I know how he is? Is he still in one piece? Did he hit her? It just goes on and on. I hate this!" He turned to face her his face burning with shame. "And do you know what the worst of it is? Do you? I don't know how he is. I don't know what happened. I don't know because I haven't seen him yet! I'm supposed to be his best friend and I've not gone to see him yet!" "He'll understand." "No he won't! B'Elanna I know him now, really know him. We've talked so much, not deep things, but I can read between the lines. I think sometimes I know him better than he knows himself. Deep down I know he wouldn't try to hurt her, but why won't he speak? What is he hiding, if anything? It worries me. I know he's wondering where I am. He's probably blaming Chakotay or Tuvok. But it's just me." "But why Harry? Why won't you see him?" "I know I ought to, even if it's just to tell him she's still alive, to see if he's all right. But I'm afraid B'Elanna. Afraid that he will say something that will mean he's done these awful things. Oh God, B'Elanna what if he has? What if he has deliberately hurt her? What if he really did do something terrible to her. She could still die! He's my best friend, but how can I stay his friend, how can I support him, when I'm not sure? When I'm so angry with him." "I know" B'Elanna looked at him ruefully. "Believe me. I know." She pushed him up and out of her quarters. "But you have to go and see him Harry. You have to find out. For me too?" --- He stood looking down at her, the noises around him stilled and faded into nothing, monitors, lights, all fell away. He could see only her face. So still, so perfect. She was sleeping, only sleeping. She would wake in a moment, smile at him. He only had to whisper her name, touch her cheek and she would wake, demanding his attention, just like she always did. He smiled. Only sleeping. If he reached out now, if he touched her face...... "Kathryn." His hand brushed her cheek. He took a step back, his heart pounding, so cold. He stepped up to her again lowering his face to hers, feeling her breath, feather soft, upon his cheek, so faint, so precious. Chakotay remained, gazing at her for a few moments longer. Trying to remember the vibrant, vivacious woman that had been. "Commander?" "Doctor." "I have some information that I believe may be of some importance to you. If you can spare me a moment of your time?" "Of course." Chakotay dragged his eyes round to meet the Doctor's earnest and worried gaze. "It's about the Captain, and I want you to know that ordinarily I would not be telling you this sort of information." "Doctor please, what is it?" "I have been running some general tests on the Captain and, although I can't put a close timescale on this, I am sure that it was within the last thirty six hours." "What was?" Chakotay's voice portrayed his irritation. . "The sexual intercourse." "What!" Chakotay felt his blood run cold. "With who?" "Lieutenant Paris." The Doctor looked anxiously at Chakotay. "Can you tell whether or not she wanted...if she..." "You mean was it consensual?" "Yes." Chakotay held his breath. "I believe that there is a strong possibility that it was not. There are several very deep bruises on her arms, consistent with her having been held against her will. While not conclusive, it is proof that she resisted him to some extent, for some reason." "Rape?" Chakotay walked away shaking his head. As much as he hated Tom Paris, he had not thought, had never thought, him capable of anything like this. His anger at him had been focused on the obvious injury. He had been there, Kathryn had been hurt, he said he had pushed her, she had fallen. He had hated him for that, but this! This was beyond him, he could not take it in, would not accept it. He returned to look at his beloved Kathryn. He didn't know if she could hear him, but he asked her just the same. "Kathryn, did he hurt you? If he did that to you I'll kill him with my bare hands. I promise you Kathryn, he won't go unpunished!" His anger at what might have befallen her flared again and began to grow. He had never before felt such a rage build within himself. Even his Father's death and Seska's betrayal had left him merely cold and hating. This passion, this storm, this hatred, was unknown to him. The futility of it all made him despair. She had been through so much, fought so many dangers, risen above her enemies so many times. It was a cruel twist of fate that she should be brought to this, not only by one of her own crew, but by one who she personally had chosen and nurtured. He shook his head, trying in vain to still his ire, to regain his calm, his control, but it was not to be. He had to do something, this was way too much to hold in. With an outraged roar he tore himself away from her side and went in search of retribution, of release. --- Part Four: Trust? Trust who? A secret determined to be kept. --- Despite Harry's intent it was Chakotay who reached the brig first. Chakotay who, intending to inflict damage of his own, found his anger re-directed and wrestled them from the defenceless body, it was Chakotay who signalled for an emergency beam out to sickbay. It was Chakotay who knocked them senseless and left them bleeding on the floor, who cursed Ayala and who turned on leaving to say so quietly, "He is mine to deal with, not theirs, not yours, not anyone else's. Spread the word." And it was Chakotay standing over him when he came to. He was aware of the pains and aches of his body first, the agony that was his heart and soul following fast on its heels. He groaned with deep anguish. He had failed. Failed at yet another thing in his life. The first time he had not fought death, actively sought it even and it had spurned him. They had left their job undone. He opened his eyes and squinted against the brightness. The reason for his failure stood tall above him, glaring down with undisguised contempt. Tom stared up into the dark eyes above him and felt real fear. This was not the Chakotay he was used to. He had never before looked into his eyes and seen only darkness, never looked and seen such hatred. A shiver ran through him. Realising where he was, he strained to look around. His thoughts for that moment focused on finding out the truth. He could see nothing. He turned his eyes to Chakotay again and, seeing them flick to the side ward, felt hope. "Kathryn? Is she..." His voice breaking, rough with emotion. He saw Chakotay's jaw tighten, his eyes narrow. "Alive? Yes, barely. You didn't know? They didn't tell you?" He shook his head, his throat too tight to talk. The relief so strong it washed over him in waves. He shook his head again in disbelief. Afraid then that this was a dream, some sick joke his mind was playing on him. They would have told him if she lived, they would have. Harry would have. They surely would not have left him in such misery. "No! Don't say this. Don't make me believe it's true. If she was alive, Ayala would... Ayala would have said. Harry would have come to me. Someone would have said!" "Ayala did this to you. You trust him more than me?" He looked at Chakotay then flinched as behind Chakotay entered Harry, flustered, worried. Tom turned his gaze from Harry abruptly, not wanting to see him. He had not come before to tell him and he came too late now, left him to find out from the one he had least wanted to ask. Chakotay waited for his answer. He was a patient man. "I trust no-one." The voice was edged with bitterness. "Not now. Not anymore." "She trusted you. Look how you've repaid her." "No!" Tom closed his eyes, the scene playing out in front of him again. "It was an accident. I never meant to hurt her!" He turned away from Chakotay, his hands covering his face. He gasped aloud as strong hands gripped his wrists fiercely and wrenched his hands from his face. Chakotay leaned down to the prone lieutenant and took his chin in one strong, blunt hand forcing him to make eye contact, his face only inches away. "I want to know, Paris. I need to know!" Staring up into the Commanders face Tom felt the world fade as if to nothing, all he could see was the eyes, all he could hear was the voice, insistent, "Tell me!" He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He could hear Harry's protests fading away as his world spiralled into nothing. --- The second awakening was back in the brig. Sitting up on the bunk he recognised his surroundings and told himself to get used to them. It didn't matter anyway, nothing mattered. He could feel nothing. There was nothing left to feel. "Oh Kate." He spoke her name out loud "God forgive me what have I done?" "Lieutenant Paris." He raised his head, feeling pain across his eyes at the brightness of the lights in the brig. He tried to focus on the figure standing in front of him. His head still spinning, he dropped it back to his knees. He had no wish to speak to anyone. His life was ended. He had managed to love two of the most beautiful and powerful women on the ship and brought both their lives into disarray. Broken both. Broken every promise, every rule. There was no need to talk about it. If her life went, his went with her. No story. No happy ending. He had always dreamed, in his darkest hours of a tale of love transcending all. Of love triumphing over all the wrongs done to him. It had served him well, lifting him from the depths. He had always been the hero. There had always been a happy ending. Not like his life, not like his real life. Here he was the villain, always the villain. "Lieutenant Paris." He looked up slowly, recognizing the voice, Tuvok. He shook his head slowly, refusing to meet the eyes, silent. Tuvok waited, Tom did not answer. "You are to come with me." The voice now more insistent. "If you refuse I will have no choice but to call extra security and forcibly remove you. Do you wish me to do this?" Tom stood up from the bed with a sigh of resignation. This was what he had been dreading. The beginning of the questions, the start of the investigation. While he had been left alone he had been able to block it out, almost pretend that it hadn't happened, but now? Now they would make him re-live everything, every moment. They would want to know why. Why was she with him? Why was she in his quarters? Why had she fallen? Why had he tried to kill her? Exactly what had happened? He couldn't tell them. He wouldn't tell them. Let them think what they liked. He had made a promise to Kathryn that he would never tell anyone of their relationship. Starfleet protocol, he knew all about that, had grown up with it. He would not sully her record with this affair. His promise to her was the only thing he hadn't broken so far and he was determined that whatever happened to him, whatever they accused him of, whatever they said or did, he would not break this vow. He heard the force field drop and stepped out, his arms already rising, wrists ready, but heart pounding at the sight of Tuvok holding restraints. He could feel it all coming back, the bitterness, the anger, the mask of indifference. He felt himself smile, not a true smile, but a smile to cover the hurt, to cover the humiliation. Tuvok noticed the sardonic smile on the lieutenants face and pursed his lips even tighter together, saying nothing. "Afraid I'm going to make a break for it Tuvok?" His voice was insolent, geared to annoy. "I assure you Mr. Paris that we are merely following Starfleet protocol in this matter. However if you have a complaint about your treatment I will address it." He waited momentarily before asking. "Do you have a complaint?" "No, everyone's made me quite at home thank you. Everything's just fine. Shall we?" He indicated the door with his hands, inwardly wincing at the heaviness of the cuffs, wishing that the deck would open and swallow him whole, outwardly nonchalant. The walk through the ship was something he would rather not do again, though he had a feeling that it was going to be another thing he was going to have to get used to. His relief at reaching Tuvok's office was visible however hard he tried to hide it. The Vulcan saw and decided not to dismiss the young man as a waste of his time. Tom stood to attention before the Chief of Security expecting the worst. But he was stunned by Tuvok's first words. "I think you should tell me about your relationship with the Captain." "What?" "I believe you heard me the first time, Mr. Paris." "I heard, I just didn't believe it. What do you want me to say?" "The truth is usually the best and safest thing." "I won't speak of her. I won't say anything." "I too have made decisions in the past based on a code of honour which I later came to regret. I think, Mr. Paris, that you should rethink your position. I have watched the Captain over the course of the last few weeks. Watched her interaction with you and yours with her and I do not believe I am mistaken." Tuvok moved around his desk to unlock the restraints and indicate a seat. Paris sank gratefully down, rubbing in relief at his wrists. "Why, Tuvok? Why say this? Why show this concern?" "I am not concerned. I merely feel that the truth should be known. You are in a difficult situation. You yourself, while not admitting anything, have not denied being responsible for her injuries. You merely maintain that you did not intend harm. Without the background of a relationship your actions are seen in a harsh and cold blooded light. I think you will be treated with more understanding if you bring your relationship with the Captain out into the open. I know she cared a great deal about you. I know she would not be happy at the way things have happened so far." "You're wrong, Tuvok. There was never anything between the Captain and I." "You should know then that the Doctor has found evidence of sexual relations between you, and that, coupled with the bruising on the Captains arms and the lack of a relationship, is leading the Commander to consider charging you with rape as well as assault. If your relationship was known that would be unlikely to happen." Tuvok watched as this information was taken in by the man seated in front of him. Pale before, he saw the colour drain completely from him, his mouth involuntarily open in shock. He then saw the colour return in force, the deep blush suffusing his whole face. "He can't surely believe that I would?" "I think that the Commander is so upset, so angry, that he is willing to believe the worst of you. You must admit that your past record with him, both before and after he joined Voyager, has been less than friendly at times." "Well maybe he was right all along. Maybe his opinion of me in the beginning was correct. "So you will not testify?" "No." Then he will find you guilty." "Then he does. I'll face it when it happens." --- Part Five: B'Elanna confronts Tom. --- She had dismissed the Ensign, pushing her, reluctant and protesting, out of the door. She stood now watching him sleep. It had been three days. Three days of him saying nothing. Telling nothing. Three days of waiting and watching while Chakotay's anger seethed and smouldered, ready to ignite. Three days of watching him as they escorted him through the ship. Head up, eyes front, no glimmer of emotion. She had attended his tribunal at Chakotay's request. All senior staff had been so requested. Tribunal, not trial. There was no trial. He offered no defence, denied nothing, accepted his fate, said nothing. The tribunal was to determine the extent of his culpability. His future rested in his hands, in his words to them. But he still said nothing. His silence complete except for one sentence, uttered again and again when asked what had happened, why it happened. 'I never meant to hurt her'. Nothing else came from his lips. She had watched as he had stood before them, mocking them with his silence, his composure, his stoicism. His acceptance of the situation seeming so complete. She felt anger at him then and she could understand and sympathize with Chakotay who daily became more agitated and unreasonable in his dealings with the young Lieutenant. Refusing to let him sit, refusing him a break, keeping him in restraints. Daily his anger grew, and daily Paris became more grim in his determination to remain silent. Grew to see his power in the situation, began to bait the Commander with a mocking smile and slow shake of the head to any question. Only occasionally did she see through to the pain beneath the mask and only then because she knew him so intimately. He would catch her eye, not meaning to and for just a moment, a hearts breath, she would see his shame, his sadness, that it had come to this. She would see the faint tinge of red high on his cheeks, see the tightness around his mouth, see his hands clenched, see the nails digging in and she felt her anger fade in the face of his suffering. So here she was, watching him sleep. Knowing it to be wrong. The Klingon in her crying out, But she was here and she walked closer to the cell. She had watched him sleep many times before, tracing the shape of his face, of his body, with her finger. Softly kissing and caressing him as he slept, sprawled, contented, safe in her bed. He had been her love, her destiny. All lies. She looked at him now, curled tightly on the bed, arms, legs, all pulled in close, defensive. His hands tight fists, his face creased with worry even in sleep. She felt herself drawn to him, longing to take him in her arms and soothe away the pain. Three days. Three days of heartache, three days of nightmares pushed aside her re-awakening love. Her hatred on hearing of his actions had been complete, her dismay absolute. Three days of conjecture and supposition. Three days for her to speculate on the nature of their relationship. Three days to imagine every scene, every episode. Three days of listening to the gossip. Of not hearing the truth from him. Three days, and it was eating her up from the inside, tearing her apart. Three days of hating him and she could take no more. He stirred and she watched him. His breathing quickened, became erratic and his hands unclenched and clenched spasmodically. She watched as his inner turmoil broke through his control. His agitation increasing, his hand now outstretched, reaching. She felt her own hand rise to his automatically and chided herself for her weakness for him. She watched as his terror increased, his hand still reaching, his body rigid. She found herself at the console, overriding the force field. Walking slowly to him she whispered soothing words, told him she was there, to hush. Her hand, touching straining fingers, suddenly gripped tight in his. His groan then, almost of relief as he pulled her hand to his heart, his lips brushing her wrist, her heart breaking. Gently she brushed back a lock of hair, caressed his cheek, her memory of him so strong. She ached to hold him, to have him hold her. All her feelings of love washing over the flame of her anger, extinguishing the bitterness, quelling the hate, making her moan with the intensity of it. She could not help herself, his touch, his scent. He was hers, she belonged to him, he to her. He was murmuring, words running over, rushing out, so quiet. She bent her head to hear. "So sorry, don't leave me, please forgive me, stay with me, never meant to hurt you, please, Kathryn, so sorry..." She stiffened then, at the evidence of his betrayal and would have pulled her hand from his. His feeling for her obvious, the whole scenario clearing in her mind. Her honour cried out at her to leave him, to wrench her hand away, but her heart spoke soft to her, 'You knew as much, knew this to be true, fight for him.' So she stayed, whispering soothing words, loving, watching him as he stirred into awareness. His eyes blank at first, lacking understanding of her presence. The realisation kicking in in moments, the mask dropping into place. His withdrawal from her swift and damaging. She felt him pull away and her anger flickered. He saw, understood, and dropped his guard, leaving himself open to her. His shame, his sorrow visible. "Why come? Why now? Like this." He rolled from the bed, his back to her, not trusting, unsure of her reasons. "I had to know the truth." She saw him flinch. A bad choice of words after these three days. "There is no truth, not anymore, not in me. Probably never was. No truth, no honour. You of all people should know that. Look at how I treated you." His head was down, his voice tired. "True. But I do know you. I know how you feel about honour. All those Klingon programs you put me through, you're more Klingon in your soul than I am Tom. Every thing you do is about honour, about loyalty. You are the most honourable man I know. You did not hurt her deliberately, I know you. So why lie?" She knew then why, as he whirled to face her, eyes blazing. A promise made, a vow. She waited. "I have not lied about any of this!" Goading him then, eager to reach the truth, she attacked. "But you haven't told the truth. You just haven't said anything. That's the same! It's not something you can hide from, Tom! It's not going to go away!" He saw through her ruse and he pulled his shields around him, arms folding, head rising, mask in place. "I can't. I won't say anything. B'Elanna I'm sorry, sorry for everything." She saw the determined set of his mouth, saw his shoulders stiffen, almost felt the chill as he closed himself down to her. She was losing him and she knew this was her one hope to break through. She searched for something that would disturb his composure, shatter his defences. Finally settling for the truth. "I still love you." His eyes widened and she saw the conflicting emotions play across his face, hope mistrust, even love of his own. But he shook his head and folded his arms even closer about himself, blocking her out. He moved over to the far wall and leant his forehead against the coolness, hands beside his head, palms to the wall, back to her, dismissing. B'Elanna's anger truly flared then. His spurning of her declaration fuelled by three days of hurt. "Coward!" She saw the barb strike home. "You deceived me! You never faced me, never told me, left me not knowing how you felt!" A second hit. She saw him flinch. He spun. "Because you abandoned me! Oh yes, you were there, you stayed with me, but your heart left. You couldn't bear to touch me, couldn't stand being in the same room as me! I tried to help, I knew you were hurting but no, you just pushed me away!" His eyes were blazing with months of pent up anger and passion. "I was hurting too, didn't you care? I needed you. Needed you to need me! I wanted to be there for you. I covered for you all the time but you never noticed, I lied for you so many times, why you were late, why your report was missing. I took the blame!" He was moving towards her as he spoke, his voice rising, shocking her with his anger, surprising her with his words. But as suddenly as it came it faded away, leaving him looking lost and alone. "You pushed me away B'Elanna. It hurt so much. I couldn't stand it." She was ashamed then that she hadn't seen this. Ashamed that her actions had caused him such heartache but she couldn't resist one last dig. She hurt too. "Is that why you went with her? You betrayed me! Lied to me! Slept with her! His eyes flashed at her and she saw the question, felt his fear. "You spoke of her, just now, while you were dreaming." Expecting anger or denial she was totally surprised when he began to laugh. But it was not a laugh of happiness. This was bitter, filled with hatred, directed at himself. Disbelieving. "All this time. I've said nothing, kept it quiet and now I betray myself in my sleep." His laughter had died, his face showing only bitterness and regret. "I can't even keep one promise, B'Elanna, not even one. How could you ever think to love a man such as me?" --- Part Six: Another promise. An act of betrayal. --- He had made her promise. Made her vow to keep silent. She had at first refused point blank. Told him he must be mad, crazy. That it made no sense, that she wouldn't let him follow this course of action. But he had been desperate. She had never seen him so upset, so agitated. His eyes were wild, he paced the cell, he almost went down on his knees to her. She shook her head. "You could be free of this!" she cried. "No, not free. I'll never be free of this. This I will take with me forever. But if I keep my promise to her then at least I have some honour in my eyes." His eyes had a far away look in them and she knew he was thinking of his life if he broke this promise. A life without honour. It meant something to her however much she denied her heritage. She understood. He took her silence as refusal and came to hold her hands. "You say that you love me?" she nodded. "Then please, please don't tell anyone. She made me promise B'Elanna. I understand if you don't think that you owe her anything but none of this was her fault. She told me how she felt from day one, it was me who couldn't keep to the arrangement. She never led me on or anything. She gave what she could. It was me who asked for more, who asked for what she couldn't give. It was me who complicated things. It was me who hurt her. I owe her this respect, this act of faith. Please B'Elanna, please." He was almost begging her to let him do this, to let him keep some honour. It had been that word and the anguished look he gave her that had persuaded her. --- "His silence condemns him in my eyes" Chakotay was reigning in his anger after yet another abortive meeting with Paris. "Why else would he not tell us unless he had something to hide." "Think Chakotay. If he had done this don't you think that he would have come up with a better lie, any lie!" B'Elanna was despairing. However much she tried Paris held her to the promise she had rashly made and however much she tried Chakotay held to his belief in Paris' guilt. The two men that she loved most dearly, both as stubborn as the day is long. Both determined to see the other rot in hell rather than give an inch. She was at her wits end with all of it. Never in all her dealings had she known Chakotay quite so intransigent, so closed to any argument in favour of Paris. He would accept no excuses, understand nothing. He would take only what he saw and what Paris had told him. Which was precisely nothing. "He's admitted being responsible for her fall. He told me he pushed her. He nearly killed her. Why? For what reason? What the Doctor says and his actions together go a long way to prove he did something! Tuvok. You've said little on this. What do you think?" "Mr. Paris, as you say, has admitted causing the fall. I suggest in the absence of any further concrete evidence we stay with what we know to be true." "But without knowing why, how can we decide what to do with him?" "What do you mean Harry?" "Don't get me wrong here, he's my friend, I'll stand by him, but...." "Harry, just say it" "If he did...well, you know, then he deserves what he gets. But there's the rumour, you know, about him and the Captain. That would explain a lot." "I've asked him countless times Harry." Chakotay's voice held warning. Tuvok spoke. "I also questioned Lieutenant Paris on the nature of his relationship with the Captain and he categorically denied it." "Can't you do some sort of mind thingy Tuvok? That way we'd know what was going on." Kim looked around feeling satisfaction at his suggestion. "Mr. Paris has to be in agreement and he has so far declined." Tuvok placed his hands together, thoughtful. Placing his elbows on the table he leaned forward, the only outward sign of his deep thought. "Though I must say that if he was innocent then it would be a logical way forward for him. We have performed a similar meld before, after all." "Further proof to my mind of his lies." Chakotay muttered. "Perhaps he was lying, though I don't know why. But if they were together, as a couple, perhaps they were just arguing, or he was being stupid, then that's different, surely?" Harry felt hopeful. Chakotay's face had darkened as Harry had spoken. This he would not accept. The very idea an anathema to him. "It's still manslaughter if she dies, just not murder. It's still assault, whichever way you look at it! You know I asked him time and again to explain the bruising on her arms. Did he ever answer? No! Why not? Because they prove he must have held her down. God, when I think of it, think of her!" "Are they really that bad?" B'Elanna felt sure that he was exaggerating. "You can clearly see the imprints of his hands on both arms." Chakotay had closed his eyes, remembering her skin, so pale against the livid purpling bruises. They hadn't known this. Even B'Elanna looked shocked. "He said it was an accident, he said... I don't understand, I just don't." Harry stumbled over his words, shaking his head, not sure what to believe. "That's why I say he'd intended to hurt her. Why I say that more happened! I've seen the bruises, no way are they accidental." Chakotay was leaning onto the table, his face earnest, willing them to follow him. "I think Commander that you must make a decision. You are clearly getting nowhere with Mr. Paris." Tuvok said. Chakotay stood back, surveying them all, weighing up how far he could go. "If the Captain were in charge then she would be trying to rehabilitate him. She's tried once and look where it got her. I say we forget Starfleet. Forget the rules. He's admitted the act of pushing her. I say he's committed an assault on the Captain, even possibly rape as well." He spat the last word, his hatred of the act and the man clear. "He deserves to be punished. He stays in the brig indefinitely stripped of his rank. We'll review this either when he says what happens or the Captain regains consciousness. No arguments!" He glared at B'Elanna as she half rose to her feet, her face aflame, yet she held back the protests she wanted to make. She knew when to back down. She would tackle him on this in private. "Tuvok, Kim, you're okay with this?" Harry shifted uncomfortably. He respected the Commander. He loved his Captain. But this was Tom they were talking about. He was impossibly torn. He wanted to shout at the Commander, to cry Then he thought of what the Commander had said. "If you show me the evidence. If you can prove this to me, really prove it!" He paused, miserable, hating what he was about to say, yet knowing he had little choice. "Then I will back any decision you make." "I also would like to see the evidence Commander. Perhaps you would furnish me with details of the Doctors notes and your own investigation?" Tuvok arched an eyebrow. "If as you say there is evidence of force then I will concur on your method of punishment." Chakotay felt satisfied. He knew in his heart that Paris was guilty. Evidence? He would show them evidence. --- Something told him that this was a mistake, a small voice telling him that he was not seeing the truth, that this was wrong, but he buried it, he knew he was right. Paris had forced her. She would not have gone to him willingly. He knew her rules. She had told him them enough times in the past few years. Starfleet protocol! The hated protocol. He would live without it now and if she never came back to them, well, they would all start to live without it. He thought back to all the times when it had interfered. Not just between himself and Kathryn, but with their progress home. The many times they had argued, enjoying the friction. How they had begun to swap roles, him following it to please her, she casting it aside when she wanted to. Thinking of her spurred him on. Paris was guilty, he just had to show the truth and the others would see him as he did. He thought of how Paris had played him for a fool, pretending a friendship, getting close. His charm, his humour had endeared him to so many. He thought of Harry's words. Even if they were true he would have initiated it, seduced her. She could not be held responsible. The moment he thought of it he dismissed it, he wouldn't even grace the idea with thinking of it. The simple thing was that they had overlooked what he now knew to be true. Paris was a liar, a traitor, a betrayer and not to be trusted. A leopard cannot change its spots. He had saved some command codes from his days as a Maquis, saved them for a different eventuality, but he used them now. Accessing the Doctor's database, turning speculation into fact. Erasing the time span, eliminating the doubt. Dredging up long unused skills he entered deep into the logs, covering his tracks, hiding his access, changing memory. Ensuring the Doctors own memory logs were updated to show his truth. Nothing too concrete, nothing that was set in stone, just taking possible and making it probable. Taking thirty six hours and making it six. Taking a loving act and making it sordid and obscene. So sure was he of his belief, blinded by unrecognised jealousy, so distressed by the whole situation, that this betrayal of his own values, this breaking of the trust placed in him, failed to register. To him it was justice. To him it was a way to say sorry to her, for not being the one she could love, for not being there to protect her, he was making it right. --- Chakotay was resting on his couch after recently returning from seeing the Captain. He had been through the day with her. A ritual he had begun and decided to keep going. The Doctor assured him she could hear. He had told her of the stars, told her of the Nebula they had just passed, described it's beauty. told her of who was doing what, who was in trouble, how far they had come, how much he missed her. His door chimed and he rose impatiently and called for whoever it was to enter. "Commander. Are you busy?" He was about to say he was, when he saw her face. "B'Elanna? You've been crying?" He was amazed, B'Elanna had only rarely cried in all the years he knew her. "What is it?" This was so hard for her. She just wanted to throw herself in his arms and cry out the truth. Tell of her betrayal by Tom Paris and how it partly vindicated the pilot. how her shame had become his salvation. But she had promised, had given her oath in Klingon also, as Tom had insisted, knowing her, knowing her honour code so well. She stood, arms about her, eyes only slightly red, but Chakotay had seen, had known, so she moved towards him and his comfort. Taking it this time as she had turned from him at others. She regretted making the promise. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do. But without it? She could have told, he could be free to be with her. She knew why she had done it. His desperation had been the key. His anxiety at breaking his promise so deep, so all pervading. In the face of his despair she had wanted to prove her love for him, to show him how much she cared, to do anything she could to ease his pain. Now though she realised what it meant. To watch as he let his life fall around him. To be powerless to help. To stand on the sidelines knowing the truth while others denigrated and persecuted him. She hated the frustration, she hated the helplessness of the whole situation. And now.... Now she was here to make Chakotay change his mind without giving away their secret. "I came to see you about Tom." "Paris? I thought as much. I saw your face at the meeting. You don't agree is that it? You think I should just let him get away with it? B'Elanna, even he admits his guilt. He's not complained at his treatment. He almost seems to welcome it. So why disappoint him?" Chakotay was tired and drained and as much as he didn't want to admit it, the voice that was nagging at him about his actions was growing stronger. He had to hold true, for Kathryn's sake, he didn't need B'Elanna here putting up more doubts. "Do you want to see the evidence? I have it on screen." "B'Elanna was curious. Tom had said that they had not been together that evening. She had pushed her jealousy away but now she felt her curiosity aroused. She wasn't worried, she knew the truth. So she moved to the screen, interested to see what it was that seemed to give Chakotay so much satisfaction. It took a few moments and a few calculations of time before she raised shocked eyes to his. "See." Chakotay felt jubilant. her reaction had been perfect. "You're sure these are correct?" Her voice sounded hollow, empty. "Oh, yes. From when the Doctor took the tests it works back to just before the so called accident he keeps maintaining. We'd have known sooner but the Doctor didn't realise he should look for anything like this at the time." He stopped. Feeling he'd laid enough seeds of doubt. If he could convince B'Elanna then the rest would fall into place. His sorrow at seeing her hurt out weighed by his joy at coming closer to his revenge for Kathryn. "I have to go. I have to see someone." She was turning, leaving before he could answer her. Her plan to convince him of Tom's innocence in disarray. --- She had flown into the brig. Forcefully ejecting the ensign on guard, not seeing Tom's smile of happiness at seeing her, instead launching into a tirade of her own, laced with Klingon invective and casting doubts on everything he had ever told her. He had stood, disbelieving at first, then accepting of her disgust and hatred as if it was expected. She had not tired of accusing him, but when he turned from her and walked away as far as he could, his back resolutely presented. Her words dwindled to nothing. "Tom?" She was calm now. Her anger at him had been swift but his reaction had been surprising. She had expected his hot denials, his maintenance of his story, not this blank acceptance. "It's true then?" "NO!" At first he was adamant, but he was tired, tired of everything. He folded. "B'Elanna enough, I've had enough. Think what you like." This was all too much. "The evidence is there you say? Chakotay showed you? You believe it?" She nodded, miserable. "The Doctor wouldn't lie. You lied to me about when you slept with her. Why?" She moved as close as she could get to the force field. "How can I trust you if you won't tell me the truth?" He sighed and turned to face her accusing and tear stained face. B'Elanna Torres, his love, had finally come to see him as the others did. He didn't blame her. In fact he marvelled at her loyalty to him, even now, he knew she was willing him to deny the facts she'd seen. He knew then what he had to do. He would not see her waste her life on him. This was causing her too much pain, he was causing her too much pain. His heart breaking, he took a last look at her, storing her in his mind, in his heart. He then proceeded to destroy as much of her love for him as he could reach. "It's true. The evidence. It's true. I lied to you. I've lied about a lot of things. It's the way I am. You should have listened to Chakotay. I don't love you B'Elanna Torres. I've never really loved you. You were good though, I'll give you that." He leered at her from across his cell. "Certainly fulfilled my image of Klingons and sex. Yeah, a real wild ride! So if you don't mind, I was getting some rest. If you ever get lonely, well, lets just say I won't be available." She didn't wait to hear him finish, whirling around and storming blindly from the brig, knocking the hapless ensign flying as she left. Tom stood staring after her, unable to see anything as his eyes filled. Rubbing viciously at his face he retreated to the bed where he curled himself up tight in abject misery and self-loathing. --- Part Seven: Paris realises what is lost to him. --- His life was never meant to be like this. Never meant to end this way. End? That was the whole point, this was not going to end, not for him. A lifetime. For the rest of the trip home. He deserved it. No news still, she remained the same. It would not change, it never had. His lifetime, his mistakes. So large, so awful, that they would take his lifetime to atone for. He was prepared, or so he had thought, when Chakotay had said, "Tell the truth or rot in here, your choice." He closed his eyes and opened them again almost immediately. It never changed. Only weeks. However many times he did it , it always remained the same. Bare walls, blank space, the glaring light of the field. And it had only been weeks. He had faced this before and got through it, why was it so hard now. The voice told him the truth. And this, this was forever. Tell the truth or rot. Condemn his body or his soul. Tell the truth. Who would believe him? Just weeks and Harry had come by every day. Bringing a fixed smile and awkward conversation. His visits, at first looked forward to, had become a painful reminder to Tom of what he used to have. Of what he had lost. Of what he could never have again, Harry's trust, Harry's acceptance. He had told Harry not to come again. He hated Harry having to see him like this, no uniform, no rank, in a cell. It took him too close to his days in Auckland. He hated the fact that Harry was probably thinking that Cavit and Dr. Fitzgerald had been right. That he should have listened to them when they warned him all those years ago that he was no good. Fulfilling a prophesy? He wasn't doing too badly. Cavit and his cronies had all foreseen his continued failure. He thought of his father. How he had hoped, really hoped that he would be able to prove him wrong, to prove them all wrong. to return to the Alpha Quadrant a respected and valued officer, even a hero of sorts. His Warp Ten flight, his rescue of Voyager from the Kazon. He had looked forward to seeing his fathers face, imagining his reaction, seeing his fathers eyes light up once again with pride in his son. All lost to him now. If they returned now he would be precisely where his father expected him, the Brig. He could hear his voice Hear the shame. He shook his head to clear him from his thoughts. He stood up and moved to walk around the cell, thoughts playing on his mind. Pushing his back to the wall he began to take small measured steps, stopping only when his toes hit the opposite wall. "...Eleven, twelve." He counted aloud, his voice breaking the silence. He turned and walked back. "...Ten, eleven." He stood bemused, half laughing at himself, thinking he'd been careful to keep the steps the same. He turned and tried again. A wry smile upon his lips. he mocked himself, the absurdity of his actions striking home. "If B'Elanna could see me now," he muttered, still smiling, before remembering, remembering his lies to her. She had not returned. Knowing she too hated him now, his smile dissolved. He rested his forehead against the cool of the wall. He closed his eyes, opened them. His little game with himself, everything remained the same. He turned slowly, leaning back, sliding down the wall to sit, head in hands on the floor. was all he could think. Looking up, whispering, "Please." Though he knew his request was impossible. He closed his eyes again, squeezed them shut, counted forever, then opened them, the travesty that was his life, still the same. "Why did she make me promise?" he asked the walls, "why?" He couldn't tell the truth even though the alternative was proving almost unbearable. He thought about it. It would make a difference, that he knew. He could tell them, could let B'Elanna tell them. If they believed him, he was no longer sure they would. The worst accusation would fade from his life. Just words, that's all it was. A promise made in happier times. Did she know what it had cost him? Would she have cared? He could tell, she would understand, forgive him. But, his head and heart told him, But she would understand. That thought cut across his heart. His love for her had caused all of this. His love for her, his love for B'Elanna. It was tearing him to shreds inside. He would never love again. His love only seemed to destroy others. To cause pain wherever he went. This was the best place for him, away from everyone. A small voice called to him. --- "I need those warp engines on-line now, Lieutenant!" Chakotay stood, tall, decisive, in control on the bridge. His heart racing, adrenaline coursing through him. "Evasive manoeuvres Mr. Baythart." "Aye, sir!" "B'Elanna I need them now." His voice warning dire consequences. His stance brooked no argument, rooted to the spot, he would not give an inch. The ship shuddered as she took a direct hit. "Shields are down to Eighty-six per cent." "Bring her about Mr. Baythart, fire at will Tuvok." "Aye, Commander." A blast of light, the ship lurched and shuddered. Consoles exploded, lights flashed. "Shields at only fifty- four per cent of maximum, Commander" "We have extensive damage on deck five, reports of casualties." This from Harry Kim, hanging on to the edge of his console, his attention riveted on the readouts flashing before him. Steadfastly ignoring the sparks and small explosions inches behind him. "Warp engines on line Commander." B'Elanna's voice cut through. "Baythart get us out of here now!" The Commander was blazing. The tiny ships had come out of nowhere and fired on them without warning. Too many to mount a stand when taken by surprise. Chakotay wasn't going to wait around and face them again. A rule of the Maquis, 'When outnumbered, outgunned, run, live to fight another day.' He hadn't always followed it, sometimes his heart had ruled his head, but he followed it now. This crew, this ship, his responsibility now. His to keep safe. --- Paris had stood, eyes closed as the red alert klaxons sounded loud around him. Adrenaline pumping, nowhere to go. Listening, feeling. Every vibration, every tremor, painting a picture in his mind. He could feel her as she leaned slightly on the turn. Pick up what the inertial dampeners failed to quell. Every quiver, every pulse was torture to him. What were they doing? Who was attacking them? He felt the manoeuvre, Delta four, . The jolt nearly knocked him from his feet as the attack obviously hit home. He felt more power surge through the engines. His heart pumping so fast, legs trembling, the ache of not being at the helm so deep it was almost a pain. he could feel the ship respond, felt the photon torpedoes fire, felt the shudder as their weapons made contact. Sweating now, the ache spreading through his body, so bad that he groaned aloud as if in pain. He needed to be there, needed to feel her move beneath him, needed to control her, to make her soar. He cried out in sheer frustration, turning, hands clenched, searching for release. The enormity of his loss suddenly so real to him. His fists connecting hard and fast with the wall of the cell, his cries unheard. Once, twice, over and over, until he dropped to his knees. Remembering what he'd had, what was now lost to him. Welcoming the physical pain to take away the hurt deep within. --- "What can I do for you Doctor?" Lines of worry were evident on the Commander's face. "Commander I should like to speak to you regarding Mr. Paris. Chakotay visibly relaxed. "Not the Captain then?" "Not at this present time, no. The Captain is still holding her own, I'm glad to say. Through some excellent doctoring and her own will to live." Chakotay moved to look in on her, calling over his shoulder to the Doctor. "What about Paris then Doc? What has he done now?" He could not entirely hide his venom. "You haven't heard about what happened ?" "No." "When they checked on Paris after the battle he had managed to break several bones in his hands, he wouldn't say how it happened." Chakotay was shocked but pushed the unexpected emotion down." "Should I care? He's not needed, they'll heal I take it? Did he do it himself?" The Doctor was set back. He had expected more of a reaction and was surprised by the callousness contained within the comments. "Yes it was self-inflicted. I think he hit the bulkhead. Out of frustration, anger, who knows, he won't speak of it. You may not deem it important, but I see it as a sign of quite severe mental distress. This is the second time that I have had to treat Mr. Paris for injuries that could quite easily have been avoided and I think someone should be making an effort to see that it doesn't happen again!" "If he seeks counselling, I'll allow it." "That is just the problem, he is not seeking anything from anyone. He has refused visits from friends. Even from myself, well, he tried to anyway. You have to speak to him, Commander. He is obviously suffering from this incarceration. Is there no alternative? Quarters perhaps?" "I'm sorry if he's causing you problems. I'll speak to him about it. But I'm not sorry for him." Chakotay's voice was rising, the Doctors voice had been insistent throughout, loud in the relative calm of sickbay. --- In the side ward, the voices drifted in, muffled but discernible. The anger evident within them eliciting a response, fingers curled, hand clenched. --- Part Eight: Chakotay has a suggestion. --- He went to see him nurturing his hate, not recognising his jealousy. Determined to dislike. He found him quiet, curled up, eyes shut, head back against the wall, seated on the bed. Watched him for a moment, saw the unguarded face, saw the tension, the fatigue, remembered how it had been. He had once wanted this man as his friend. His hate for him changing as he recognised the defensive attitude for what it was, saw the depths of the man beneath the mask. He saw him now, discredited and dishonoured, felt how much he owed him. Felt sadness that their friendship had fallen to this. Felt himself reach out from deep within, remembering the jokes, the laughter, the teasing. The friendship, worked so hard for, so spectacularly shattered by Paris' actions. "Tom." His first words would have been a reaching out, a bridge built, the first glimmer of reasonable thinking Chakotay had felt in so many days. But the eyes snapped open at the first utterance and the bridge collapsed in splinters at the searing look of hatred that came from the young man on the bed. He leapt to his feet the eyes glaring disdainfully into Chakotay's face, the mouth turned in a contemptuous sneer. The whole attitude of his body changed in an instant. The arms folded, hands hidden, back stiff, he stood defiant. His loathing of Chakotay and his efforts to condemn him evident in every fibre of his body. The regret dissipating, the Commander mirrored the Lieutenant in every way. They stood opposite each other, facing the other down. The accuser and accused. "Sooo.... Chakotay. Come to gloat?" his attitude- contempt, resentment, bitterness, his voice disrespectful, dripping with scorn. All to hide his fear, anxiety and alarm at the Commander's presence. It had the desired effect. All concern gone, seeing only the smart-mouthed, uncaring, young fool, Chakotay missed the shaking, missed the break in the voice, missed the obvious decline in the man before him. "I came to see you at the Doctor's request. He seems to think that you're suffering. I can see that isn't the case. I see the image of the eager young lieutenant has been discarded. Back to your old self? Only thing that I can think of that's missing is the smell of liquor." He turned to signal to the lieutenant on guard to drop the force field and leave, missing the brief flicker of emotion that crossed Paris' face at the mention of his past. Having watched the guard leave, he turned his attention back to Paris, catching, with great satisfaction, the look of alarm appearing in the blue eyes before him. "Show me your hands." An order given, no real concern, straight away refused. Paris shoved his hands deeper under his arms. "Don't make me, Paris," he warned. Reluctantly he dropped his arms, laying open his hands for inspection. Some bruising remained, the skin, pink where re-generated across the knuckles. His stance now almost submissive, Chakotay felt compassion return. The belligerence subsided. Chakotay stepped forward and turned the young mans hands over in his, feeling him flinch as skin connected. "Why?" He hadn't meant to ask, only meant to inspect the damage, hadn't meant to care. But the question had come unbidden and now he needed to hear an answer. Needed to hear him say something, to explain something after all the days of silence. He lifted his eyes from the scrutiny of the pilot's hands and this time he caught the pain, saw the shame, before the shutters came down. "Why?" he asked again, his grip on the damaged hands tightening, becoming painful. His voice was harsh. "This you can tell me surely." The hands were roughly jerked away, tucked back up under arms, defences to the fore. Again Chakotay demanded. "Why?" His patience failing rapidly now. the frustration of the past days resurfacing. The back was turned. The challenge issued. Taken up without thought. Chakotay reaching and grabbing the shoulders, spinning him around, all the anger and heartache, the frustration and despair of the previous weeks placed into the one blow to the gut. The tall, silent man was brought to his knees, gasping for air, doubled over in agony. The giving of the blow a release, breaking Chakotay from his cycle of jealousy and bitterness. He knelt in front of the pilot, his former friend, and took him by the shoulders. "Look at me!" he shouted, "face me! Why won't you speak to me? Just tell me why?" Though barely able to breathe the pilot responded. "You have...to...ask?" the disbelief was strong. "You...can't see...why?" He looked around as he spoke and Chakotay followed his gaze. "See my... life Chakotay... See it!" the bitterness returned. Chakotay had seen. The emptiness assailed him. So impersonal, so alone. He was shocked at what the pilot saw, at what he saw. He swallowed back the pity, quelled his sympathy and reached to embrace his own bitterness. Yes, he was shocked, yes he felt remorse, but still he said, "You brought this on yourself." "That makes it harder. Don't you see that?" Chakotay's hands left the shoulders. He'd felt the shaking then, felt the tension. He stayed kneeling, sitting back on his heels, as Paris hugged his stomach, regained his breath, head down. Chakotay did see and the nagging voice that had been with him for the past few days returned. < You are too harsh, too unforgiving. What if you are wrong?> He tried. "It doesn't have to be like this. Tell the truth and I'll confine you to quarters. Tell the truth and we can start to sort this out. I know I've said this so many times in the last weeks, but why won't you speak? You say you've not had a relationship, that you weren't together, yet evidence shows otherwise. You say it was an accident. That you never meant to hurt her. Explain the bruises. You say all this but not the truth. If there was no relationship, no love, then you forced her, holding her so hard you leave deep bruising, and then to silence her or in a fit of anger you throw her from you, to kill, to maim, who knows? How can I think anything else Paris? How can I?" "I can't tell you what to think. I can't tell you any thing. God, Chakotay I regret this! Don't think I don't. Do you think this is how I saw my life? Do you think I don't know what I'm losing? Do you think I wouldn't have this any other way if I could?" A thought came to Chakotay who blurted it out without thinking. "You could leave." The pilots head jerked up, the question, the thought burning in his eyes. "Leave? You mean leave Voyager?" "Yes, why not. Surely it would be better than this?" Chakotay found himself questioning his words. Was he suggesting this to help the pilot? Or was this another way his mind was thinking of to get rid of him? He found himself confused. He had begun to doubt his motivation. He stood, leaving Paris on the floor. Paris thought. He hated the prospect of even a few more days in this cell. He had alienated his friends. Harry had been awkward and embarrassed with him. B'Elanna's love and friendship he had destroyed. Kathryn he had all but killed. Neelix, Seven, Tuvok, he knew he had let them down. The rest of the crew had made their feelings evident during his frequent trips through the ship over the last few weeks. Then there was Chakotay. Chakotay who hated him enough to abandon him in this god forsaken no mans land. His anger at his superior officer rose to the fore. "You want to get rid of me?" He felt he knew the answer. "You've been waiting for just this chance haven't you?" The worst thing was that Chakotay found that he couldn't, if he was really truthful, deny this totally. Years ago, when they had first been stranded here in the Delta Quadrant he would have gladly removed him from the ship. But not now. Definitely not now. "You know that's not true. I thought you might prefer leaving to staying somewhere where...." "Where I'm hated, despised?" Chakotay felt awkward. He had definitely not thought this through. He wasn't sure how to convince the young man of his best intentions. He wasn't sure there were any. "Kathryn wouldn't let you do it." Paris spoke without care and instantly regretted it. But he was worried. As much as he hated his existence on Voyager, he didn't want to leave. To be away from all those he loved, even if they no longer loved him. He had to stay. He had to be here if Kathryn came around. It was his only hope in life that she would wake and make this nightmare disappear back into the darkness it came from. "The mention of her name lit the flames that still smouldered. "You don't ever call her that! Why do you have to do this? Taint everything you come into contact with? Why do you have to do this to me! When I think what you've done to her and to B'Elanna it makes my blood boil." His idea seemed to become more reasonable as he continued to speak. "We'd be better off without you. I always knew it was a mistake to try to reach you, there is nothing to reach!" Chakotay's tone was scathing, dismissive. Paris dragged himself to his feet, still holding his gut, feeling sick and ill, and not just from the punch, as he listened to the tirade. "I go to see her every day. I watch her, talk to her. I see her so still, day in day out because of *you*. You question my motives. Hell! I question my motives. There's part of me that just wants to kill you Paris, but I won't, she wouldn't want that. But I am right. This ship will be better off without you. The first chance I get I'll put you off this ship, rid us of your poison." "I never hurt her like that Chakotay." For some reason Paris felt he had to convince him of this fact. "Then explain! Don't stand there and tell me you did nothing to her when I see the bruises. When I see the evidence of your abuse of her!" Chakotay was standing feet from the pilot, able to look into his eyes and what he saw there stalled him, pulled him up short, took away his breath. The truth in the man's words was evident, he could see no deception lying there. The truth that he did not want to see, would not see, was too close to hide from. He shook his head at Paris, pushing away the stark reality of what he thought he had seen and refused to entertain. "Lies! all that you give me is lies. Why?" All that he got then was silence. He turned from the man in disgust. His determination to be rid of Paris re-enforced. --- Part Nine: The consequences of actions hit home. --- B'Elanna had gone straight to engineering, stayed there, trying to lose herself in work, to hide from the feelings flooding through her. Her staff were wary, seeing her fly around the department, snapping and complaining, getting steadily more aggressive and unreasonable. Her temper only made worse since the attack. Reducing Nicoletti to tears and facing off with Joe before he tired of her temper and called for assistance. Chakotay sent Harry. He came, nervous himself, unsure how much help he could be, but, knowing her so well, he was less afraid to speak, less circumspect in pointing out her temper and unreasonable behaviour. He found her, head buried under wires and broken console, repairing the damage of the day before. "Okay Maquis, the cavalry has arrived. where do you want me to start?" She popped her head out, questioning. "You're here to help me?" "Yep. So, where do you want me or shouldn't I ask?" he tried to keep his tone light, to sound unconcerned, but she knew straight away. "Joe's been calling hasn't he?" she screwed her face up, embarrassed. "Did Chakotay send you Harry?" she glared at him from the floor. Harry crouched down beside her. "B'Elanna, I know this is difficult, with Tom and every..." "Don't! Don't talk to me about that, that pig, that petaQ! I shall never, never speak to him again!" Harry was shocked "I thought you'd been to see him. I thought you were sorting this out. He was so happy. He told me you came to see him, that you seemed to have forgiven him. B'Elanna what's happened?" She sat up beside him, turning to check that no-one was within earshot. "Chakotay showed me evidence, the proof, or so he says, of Tom's guilt." She got up and moved to work on another console. The activity keeping her emotions under control, stopping her from feeling it too much. "He told me he wasn't with her that day, that they hadn't slept together. I can't say any more Harry, I promised him. But, well, let's just say that he lied shall we?" she was glancing over her shoulder at him as she worked, pulling her feelings in tight, reigning back her tears. "Chakotay showed me, I went to him, I challenged him with it." She bent down under the console, feeling her eyes mist, barely able to see the point where she was trying to solder. She stopped and rubbed her eyes. Harry stood, holding his breath, his thoughts racing ahead of her words, dreading them as she spoke. "He said that it was true, that he lied, that Chakotay was right. Oh Harry!" She turned to the wiring again, not seeing, not paying attention. " He never loved me. I'm so stupid, so gullible! Harry he was so bitter, so..." "B'Elanna!" Harry called a warning as he saw her hand reach for some wiring. "...angry, so hateful. Harry I couldn't.." She carried on unheeding of his call, her hand reached out, her eyes too full of tears to see the danger as she came into contact with the console. The wiring flashed. "B'ELANNA!" the explosion caught her full in the face, throwing her back into the out stretched arms of Harry as he lunged to reach her. Knocking them both several feet into the air to land with a sickening crunch. --- Chakotay was already in sickbay when they were beamed in. Staying five minutes to talk to the Captain. He left her side to see how they were. Harry merely bruised, winded. B'Elanna badly burned, unconscious. The Doctor fussed and prodded for information. "It was a console, she wasn't looking, she was distracted, upset over something Tom had said to her." Harry explained. Chakotay was amazed. even in the brig he could hurt her. He pulled Harry to face him, waving away the Doctor for a moment. "What, Harry? What has he said? Anything important? Why was she so upset that she ended up here, like this?" "Something about what you showed her, some evidence of Tom's guilt. She challenged him, he admitted it!" Harry listened to himself as he said the words. The worry that had been niggling at him for days began to resurface, to take shape. As he spoke he knew why Tom had told B'Elanna this. "He told her he had lied. Told her it was true. Told her he didn't love her." Harry stopped. Chakotay was turning away as he spoke, slowly walking from him, moving to B'Elanna's side. All this from one act. All this heartache from one moment in time, from one person. The question hit him with force. He felt his mind open, felt understanding rush in. Saw what he would only moments ago have died denying. He looked down at her bloodied face and saw the truth. Saw love that he had so carelessly destroyed in the name of his justice. It was like iced water had been thrown over him. The realisation of his mistake. Why he had he said those things, done as he had. He admitted it now to himself. He touched her hand, giving it a small squeeze, he brought it to his lips and murmured his apology, his regret. Laying her hand back down he moved out of the Doctor's way, ignoring Harry, who was declaring himself fit and calling back as he left. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this if it kills me. If it kills him!" Chakotay moved back to his bedside vigil. Thinking of Tom, thinking clearly for the first time. Sorrow and shame at his actions coursed through him. He knew. He did not need Tom to tell him. It was plain to see. Tom had admitted his lie to B'Elanna. But it was Chakotay's lie. Tom had not needed to admit it, so why? He had done it to protect, all to protect. To protect B'Elanna from his disgrace, from his ignominious fall. The rest to protect Kathryn from scandal. He could see it now so clearly laid before him. So plain to see unless blinded by rage and jealousy. And why jealous? He cursed himself as he sat beside her. His actions, his rage, his accusations. How could he have been so blind, so untrusting. He hated himself, called himself traitor, to his friend, to his captain, to himself. "Kathryn, what have I done? How will he ever forgive me? How will you?" he bent his head down and rested his forehead on the bed beside her. His sorrow heartfelt, deep and lasting. She heard the cry, heard her name, heard the sadness and reached out a shaking hand, eyes flickering open at the heart rending pain in the voice beside her. Reaching down she caressed his cheek. Took away his pain. The Doctor already alerted by the changes in her brain waves stood, watching and listening. --- Harry was alone with Tom. Standing before him, angry, annoyed with his friend. No longer awkward, he spoke as one who knows the truth but is waiting for it to be admitted. "How could you say such things to her? How could you? I know you were lying, know it's not true. I know how much you love her even if you don't come out and say it. This has got to stop, Tom. Stop now! You have to tell the truth. It's no good you carrying this on. Look where it's got us! Look where it's got you, got B'Elanna! Tom she's lying there unconscious, her face ripped to shreds because of you!" He paused, looking at his friend, trying to see if his words were reaching him. Tom stood, arms still folded, face a mask, shaking his head yet again at Harry. Desolation though showing through in the hold of the shoulders, the tightness with which his arms hugged his body, the news shocking him to the core. "She's going to be all right though?" His voice quiet, barely discernible. "Yes, physically, but Tom she loves you, you've hurt her so badly. Why keep this up?" "What can I do? I've screwed up both our lives pretty good haven't I? I just thought she'd be better off without me, better if she hated me, if she didn't see me." The mask was slipping now. The realisation that B'Elanna was hurt, that he had inadvertently caused another accident, cutting through him. He raised anguished eyes to Harry, seeing only concern and caring in the others face, no condemnation. "Like me? You pushed me away too and I was stupid enough to let you. I know there's something wrong in all this. I was confused before but I see it now. I know you Tom. This is about honour or something. You can't speak of it can you? You've made a promise haven't you? To her? To the Captain?" Harry could see he was right by the expression that came over Tom's face, shock, worry, all there to see. "I was right! I knew it! I told Chakotay there was something going on." Tom moved as far forward as he could and hissed at Harry. "No! There's nothing, nothing, do you hear me Harry?" But Harry was angry too and would not be quieted. "Why take the blame? Why, for something I really know you could never do?" Tom still shook his head keeping his eyes from Harry lest he should see the truth. "I can't tell you why." Chakotay's voice cut across. "To protect her. To stop us from finding out the truth." Turning off the force field as he went, jaw and fists clenched, he advanced towards the pair standing in mute surprise at the unexpected entrance. "The truth is out Paris." Grabbing hold of Paris' shirt front with both hands he pushed him rapidly back to rest against the wall of the cell. His temper, tightly reigned, but showing nonetheless. "You stupid, misguided son of a bitch. Of all the idiotic, confused, unbelievably crazy things you have done in the past, this has got to rank as one of the most... the most..." Words failed the Commander. he found himself tongue tied, standing still holding on to Tom, so close, the blue eyes full of surprise and alarm. "When I think of what you've put us through! What I've done. All because of your crazy thoughts on honour!" He released his hold slightly. "She is so angry at all of this!" Releasing him and stepping away, back turning. "So am I." Two voices asked in unison, "She is?" "Yes she is, angry as hell at me," He turned and moved back towards Paris. His temper pulled in once again. "grateful to you." The last said with feeling. "She's grateful?" the realisation of what Chakotay was saying washed over him. She had come back to him, back to all of them. His heart leapt with unbridled joy before crashing back down to reality. Had she told anyone, had she told Chakotay? She must have, his words meant that, 'Misguided'. He obviously knew. He looked at Chakotay, standing, shoulders still heaving as he governed his emotions and caught his breath from his recent outburst. Catching his look, Chakotay spread his hands out wide and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess we can both screw up lives quite spectacularly, eh?" At this admission of fallibility, this acceptance of a mistake, Paris found his hard-nosed attitude begin to slip. He struggled to regain control. Chakotay seeing the jaw work, the eyes blink rapidly as they were raised to the ceiling, turned his gaze away, catching sight of the arms, always tight these days around the mans body, clutch tighter still. A desperate attempt to hold in the pain, to hold back the tears. Not wanting to embarrass him but finding the need to let him know his feelings, Chakotay said in a low voice, calm and smooth. "It's okay Tom. It's okay to feel this way. It's over, you don't have to do this any more, for me, or for Harry. She's told me everything about you." Harry was already moving forward, his hands connecting with shaking shoulders. His own face already wet with tears at seeing his friends suffering. Mixed with an expression of relief and joy at the thought of the Captains return to health. He gave Tom a quick hug and turned, excited, to the Commander. "She's going to be all right?" he asked. "Really okay?" "So the Doc says. a bit shaky for a while, he was working on her when I left. She was fighting back already." Chakotay was still half watching Paris. He reached out to take his arm, thinking to guide him to sit down, he looked so pale. "Tom." "Don't." The word was ground out. "Don't you touch me." He still struggled for control, afraid to let go of his feelings. Ashamed of his tears, his obvious breakdown before Chakotay. He closed his eyes tight shut, blocking them out. Harry, not really noticing the other men's quietness, was thinking only that this was all over. The nightmare ended. "Tom, this is great news, isn't it?" he pulled at Toms arm "You don't have to pretend any more. I must tell B'Elanna. You do want her to know don't you Commander?" Chakotay was already reaching out to still him when Tom's voice, bitter, reminiscent of the past few times they'd spoken, overrode his quiet call. the blue eyes had snapped open, trapped tears instantly falling, wiped away with an impatient hand. "So it's all all right now is it?" He glared at Chakotay. "I'm free to go? We'll forget all this happened? That's not how it works is it Commander. Tell our naive young ensign here how it's really going to work out. Tell him! Tell him who still gets to play the fall guy?" Harry stood, confused. He had thought Tom would be happy. He looked from one man to the other. Tom still, face hard, bitter, Chakotay, a glimpse of guilt, a hidden agenda. Chakotay sighed. He should have remembered Paris was Starfleet born and bred. That he would know, understand the drill, the way it had to be done. He turned apologetically to Harry, sad that he was the one to burst the young mans bubble. "There's still the matter of assault, Harry. It still stands." "What! Why?" Harry was amazed. He glanced at Tom, saw resignation written clear across his face. "I don't understand." He was bewildered. Tom shook his head, a bitter, sarcastic smile upon his face." Happy endings Har." he drawled as he sat down on the bed. "They just don't happen. You're not in a fairy tale here Harry." Seeing Harry's disillusioned face and knowing it was his words that were causing his lost look made Paris more defensive. "What did you think would happen?" He asked with a half laugh." That she would come running down here, throw her arms about me and kiss it all better? Harry, Harry, Harry." He got up and put his arm around Harry's shoulders, a wry grin in place. "This is real life Harry, real and it's happening to me. So don't you worry about it, whatever happens you'll be fine." Harry pulled away from the sarcasm, the cynicism, dismayed but not wholly surprised by Tom's attitude. He recognized the tactics, the defences going up again and felt sadness that he couldn't help. Paris directed his next words at the Commander. "She still wants it kept secret?" Phrased as a question, he didn't really require an answer. He had suspected it would be this way regardless. Chakotay nodded, feeling awkward. "I thought as much" He drew a hand down over his face, flexing his jaw, trying to release some of the tension he felt. Seeing Harry's anguished look he felt a fleeting pang of regret for his earlier comments, but figured, Chakotay was speaking, Paris had missed the major part of his speech thinking of Harry, but he tried to focus on what the man was saying. He could feel himself shutting down. The tiredness caused by so many sleep free nights creeping through him. "...Sorry for not realising, for letting my anger, my jealousy get in the way of my better judgment." Paris was thinking but part of him, the part that he really wanted to win out, was interested and sensed the sincerity held within the words. So he listened and kept the smart mouth closed as Chakotay finished. "I may not agree, but I see her point. You obviously do, You've done this so far to protect her. You won't stop now." The regret was clear, his admission frank. " Tom. This has soured things between us. I acted badly, I know that." "You had your reasons. Pretty good ones when you think on it." Paris had sat down again, sprawled on the bed, the picture of idle delinquency. Chakotay persevered. "What I'm trying to say is, well, if you agree to do this...." "I have a choice?" Paris snorted his disbelief. "If you do this for her, then you'll need friends. Only the senior staff will know. No-one else. It won't be as bad, but it won't be easy." He almost gave up then, thinking he was wasting his time, seeing the bitterness cross the face before him, expecting scorn. But he thought of what he was asking Tom to give up, to accept, and decided to persevere. "I haven't been there for you before. But I will be, if you let me." He felt uncomfortable saying this in front of Harry, who stood now, mouth open, staring at him. "You're asking, no, she's asking, Tom to willingly accept this when we know it's not true. She can't mean it, really she can't." Chakotay glared at Harry then turned back to Tom. "She said. If you can't, if you really can't do this, then she'll admit to it all." Tom was still thinking about what Chakotay had said No one had ever offered to do this for him before. His Father, his friends, all had abandoned him when trouble had struck. He was studying the Commander, watching him as he spoke. "You'd do that for me?" He sat up straighter. "You'd stand by me, even after all that's happened, after you know about us?" He got up to face Chakotay. "Yes." He said, nothing more. It was accepted as it was said. Straight, a certainty, clear, no hidden agenda this time. "Can I ask you then? What would you do?" He had heard what the Captain had offered. He had to admit it was tempting. Chakotay considered the question carefully. "I can't say. I don't know how I would act if I'd gone through what you have. I don't know if I'd do it, but...." He looked right into the blue eyes. "If she asked...." "You too huh?" Paris half smiled, his first true smile in many days. "Anything she wants, anything...." "You're not going to do this?" Harry moved quickly to his side." You can't." "Harry. I pushed her. She fell. I did do it. We just keep it to that, that's all. It won't be so bad Harry." He stood waiting for Harry to say something. Hearing nothing, seeing he was unconvinced, he tried to explain. "The crew will get over it, get over me being in trouble, get over their dislike, cease to care about me. I'm nothing here, not important." Harry opened his mouth to protest but Tom held up his hand. "Hear me out, will you? I don't matter. I can work to get it all back, she can't. If she shows herself to be fallible. If she breaks the rules Harry. Then she's gone. She has to be up there, untouchable, unsullied by life. She's their figurehead, their icon. Something to look up to. She has to be kept away from scandal. And that's what it would be Harry, scandal. A sordid affair between the Captain and a junior lieutenant. A lieutenant who was supposed to already be in a relationship. Who has such a past. The Captain and the traitor. Sound good to you Harry? No? No, it doesn't sound good to me either. No good at all." Chakotay was nodding as he spoke, willing Harry to understand, feeling a renewal of respect for the enigmatic pilot. Feeling growing shame over his own actions. "So do you get it Harry?" The question softly asked. Harry nodded at his friend, reaching out, he squeezed his arm, imparting support, not needing words. Turning to face Chakotay, Paris spread his arms wide, mocking himself. "Tell the Captain I'm hers, to do with as she wants." --- Part Ten: Resolution. --- It didn't seem so bad. Three months confined to quarters unless on duty. Fined six months replicator rations. Extra duty in sickbay, throughout. Not so bad. But that was the good parts. He sat thinking about these punishments. If this had been it, it would have been okay. The worst had been unexpected, had caused even Chakotay to stand up and protest. Relieved of his position as Chief Helmsman, not only that but demoted, now Ensign, not Lieutenant. Not permanent she had said, just temporary, rules she had said, protocol she had claimed, not personal she maintained. He wasn't sure, didn't trust enough to believe in the restoration promised. All this had happened rapidly. A swift resolution to a traumatic episode in her life. A lasting damage to his. 'Tell her I'm hers to do with as she wants.' His words came back to laugh scorn in his face. Their meeting following this had been tense. His first sight of her alone since he held her that fateful day, rocking her as she bled her life's blood onto him. She had breezed in to see him. Back to the Captain, back to the whirlwind. She was radiant, glowing, full of life. So different from the ghost of a woman he saw in his nightmares. She had colour, sparkle and she lit his quarters up with her presence. He however was a shadow of his former self. His humor now directed to wound, his attitude contentious. The sarcasm of his youth returned in force, alienating him from Harry, constantly annoying Chakotay in the days immediately following his sentence. She sailed full force into his life, her purpose clear, her task difficult. An explanation for this further humiliation. She had not given him time to speak. Sensing she would not like what he had to say she opened her argument directly. Challenging him to come up with a more plausible punishment for his supposed crime. "Take it as read." She had cried at him eventually. "If you had truly meant to hurt me your life would be nothing, not just suspended for a few weeks." "Suspended!" he had yelled back. "Destroyed more like! The one thing I can do. The one thing I had pride in. You take away!" "What would you have had me do?" She had responded, pulled up short at the memories that those words contained. They had stood then, her chest heaving. His eyes wild with emotion. "How can you do this to me." He had finally said, despairing. "After I kept you safe, free from my fall, from any shame." "Your pain is mine too." She tempered her reply. " You mean a great deal to me." "Only that I keep you up there. You brought me to this end. I loved you, still do. Now you cast me aside." He kept his hands resolutely hidden, his arms folded. Kept his distance from her, even though she moved towards him. "I even turned B'Elanna from me." The desolation in his voice cut her to the depths. "Why?" She would never understand him, couldn't match his change of pace, his mercurial, shifting moods. One moment anger, next, bitterness then remorse following fast on it's heels. "She needs someone she can look up to. Who will honour her. What could I offer. Nothing. I have nothing to give her." Her stance changed then also. She let go her Captains bearing. She moved to embrace, to hold him, to take away some of the loss. He let her this time, didn't back away or turn from her like he had. She held him and whispered her regrets, whispered her sorrow at this life that caused them both pain. For as she held him she felt the love he had sought from her rise in her heart and she swept it away. Not for her this passion. Not for her this honourable man who took the blame for her mistake. She was promised to another less forgiving. A starship, sleek and swift, tirelessly carrying it's precious cargo home. She was promised to all of them. No room left in her heart, no time for love. She gently pushed him from her. His closeness, the feel of him in her arms bringing a heat she could not afford. "Sorry." One word, all she could give him. All she could allow. He looked at her, saw her sorrow, her anguish, her love. "I'll cope." He knew she understood. "I also understand." He paused weighing up her mood, allowing himself a moment. He sighed, enforced, dramatic. A device to break the tension. "Although I think you were too harsh. How long is temporary?" His voice carrying a whine. His intention to cajole her, to court her into reducing her sentence. To bring her smile back. "You'll cope." She said warningly, glad of at least some return to his former self. She turned back to the door. He followed her. "I can't stay. It would look wrong if I were here too late." She moved to the door, finding herself close to tears as she looked at him standing lost and alone in the middle of his quarters. Wishing she could have made it all fade away to nothing. "I won't let you down," he said to her as she turned to go. "You have never let me down!" she said it vehemently. "Don't ever think that! I'm proud of you. It's me I'm ashamed of," she paused as if she were reluctant to say the words, "and others. Others who should have known better. She reached up both hands to hold his face. "You have so much to give Tom. Don't let foolish pride get in the way with B'Elanna. You belong with her. She loves you. Don't give up on that." She pulled his head down and kissed him on the forehead. "I haven't given up on you. Be patient. It will come right. I'll make it happen." Turning smartly she donned her Captains demeanour as the doors swished open at her approach, casting him a last glance as she left him to his thoughts. --- She broke into his quarters. Using every ounce of her Maquis skills she overrode the security lockout, knowing it would be discovered in the morning, not caring in the slightest. Her determination, her purpose, her fantasy, set in her mind, unstoppable, he wouldn't stand a chance. The lights barely on she crept through the room, silent, cat like, a predator with her eye already focused on her prey. He lay motionless, less tension evident than the last time she had watched him sleep. One arm out flung, laying partially on his back, the covers barely pulled over his body. His chest exposed, she licked her lips, drinking in the sight of him. Her nervousness, her doubt at how he would receive her, all giving an edge to her arousal. Her need for him overpowering, killing all worries about his faithfulness to her. She could see only him in her dreams. Feel only his body against hers. She padded softly to his side, her breath held, her excitement causing her to tremble. Her hand shaking slightly as she reached out to touch him lightly. She stripped, sliding silently beneath the sheet. Feeling the warmth of him, skin on skin, twining her legs around his, he moaned softly in his sleep, stirring, not awake, not fully aware. She lay, propped on one elbow, tracing his face with her eyes, with one finger. She ran it lightly down his cheek, stopping to lean forward to follow her finger with a kiss. His cheek, his lips she brushed with her own. Her finger running down over his chin to gently tickle, running down his neck, her soft kisses coming after. Lingering then, gently biting, licking at the hollow in his shoulder, feeling a shiver run through him, His eyes open, awareness coming rapidly as his body responded to her caress. "B'Elanna?" His question halted by her passion as she took his mouth with hers, breaking off only to say, "Shush, be quiet, Tom," before she reclaimed him for her own. --- The End