The BLTS Archive- My Chakotay
#10: Ghosts
by MaisieRita (MaisieRita@aol.com)

---

copyright 1998

Disclaimer: Paramount is all-mighty. I am not.

Warning: m/m sex.

Feedback: Please! All constructive comments will be seriously
considered. Grammar nits welcome. <g>

---

He's fighting off the sedation again. Even though his eyes are still
closed, it's pretty obvious that he's waking up. The Doctor's off to
one side, already preparing another hypospray and looking extremely
unhappy about it.

"This isn't good for his body, Captain," he protests.

"I don't care," she says flatly. It's not as callous as it sounds.
It's just that, right now, we can't risk letting Tom be awake. The
last time he woke up, almost 12 hours ago . . . let's just say that I
was beginning to think we were going to run out of phasers before we
got him back on the biobed and strapped down again.

Sickbay is filled with security guards. Female, of course. After what
happened in the mess hall yesterday, Kathryn doesn't have *any* of the
male crew doing anything more important than sweeping the Jefferies
tubes. It's effectively crippled the ship, but until we can get a
handle on what we're facing, it's the way things have to be.

Most of the demons are in Tom. Most. Not all. I saw a few hovering
around Harry earlier this morning, and a few more jumping in and out
of some of the Maquis. I'm not getting a feeling of menace from them
anymore though, and I can't say I'm surprised. Why should they waste
time with me? They've already got what they wanted.

I just wish we knew *what* they wanted with him. I keep thinking about
when he woke up earlier. He'd been stunned with eight phasers on full
charge, sedated to boot, and then restrained for good measure.

We thought he wasn't a threat. We weren't paying too much attention to
him.

Sickbay restraints are strong enough to hold down a Vulcan in the grip
of *ponn farr*, or a full-blooded Klingon warrior who's having
hallucinations. When Tom woke up, hours before he was expected to, he
ripped through the straps like they were made out of tissue paper.

He wasn't speaking, not in any language the universal translator could
process, but the most unholy noises I've ever heard were coming from
his mouth, and I'd *swear* there were flames in his eyes. I've never
been as terrified as I was in that moment. I had to fight the impulse
to snatch up two diagnostic sticks to make a cross, and I'm not even
Christian.

Fortunately the security officers were more pragmatic. They just kept
firing at him until he collapsed.

He's got two full sets of restraints on him now, and the Doctor's
doping him up every time he starts to show the slightest hint of
regaining consciousness. B'Elanna and Seven are working on a
forcefield that might contain him. Our regular forcefields, B'Elanna
explained to me, work on the same principles as the phasers, and we've
all seen how effective *they* are against him. So now they're trying
to devise something that might be able to keep him contained without
killing him on contact. The problem is that we have no idea how the
demons are affecting Tom's body. We're still not even sure why the
phasers aren't working.

For that matter, we don't really know why the sedatives aren't
working, either. The Doctor actually claims that they *are* working;
that Tom is unconscious. He may be right. When Tom woke up earlier,
the biomonitors didn't let out a peep. So he may well be unconscious.
Unfortunately, the demons are not.

My own theory is that they're still figuring out their way around a
human body. I assume that once they get the hang of it, the sedatives
won't work any better than the phasers do. It's different than when
they were in the crew. I'm pretty sure that before they got Tom, they
weren't able to exert any *physical* control on anyone they possessed.
According to Tuvok, it was all mental manipulation. But now, in Tom, I
think they've got access to everything, mind *and* body.

Maybe even his soul.

I feel incredibly guilty. After all, Tom sacrificed himself to save
me. I promised to protect him from the demons. Some protector I turned
out to be! There has to be something I can do. Anything. If I could
only think of it . . . Growling, I turn away from Kathryn and the
Doctor. This place is too crowded. I can't think here, and I *need* to
think. "Kathryn," I say, interrupting her in mid- sentence, "I'm going
to my quarters to meditate."

To her credit, all she does is nod. She'll continue seeking her
physical solution while I search for a spiritual one.

---

The clearing is quiet and peaceful, and my Guide is waiting patiently
on the same rock as always. I can't stop from breathing an involuntary
sigh of relief. With everything that's been happening, I'd been more
than half expecting to see a cloud of demons hovering over the rock
waiting for me.

"They can't touch you here, Chakotay," my Guide remarks lazily.
"You're as safe here as you are in your cabin."

"Why? This is a spirit plane, and they're spirits."

"This is my spirit plane, and I don't let any demons in."

"I was under the impression this was *my* spirit plane," I answer back
as dryly as possible.

He looks at me keenly, his reptilian body glinting in the sunlight.
"You're not the one in control here, Chakotay. Haven't you learned
that yet?"

I ignore that. "I don't really have time to get metaphysical with you
today. I need to know what to do about the demons."

Somehow, although he has no shoulders, my Guide manages a shrug.
"Beats me."

I stare at him. This is not the first time he's failed to give me
advice, but it's certainly the worst. "If you don't help me, how am I
going to figure out what to do? *You're* a spirit. Don't you have
*any* ideas?"

"No," he says simply, then twists to the side. "But you might want to
ask *them*."

I blink. There are three other people in the clearing, sitting on a
log, waiting patiently. Two men and a woman. I hadn't even noticed
they were there. "Who are they?" I ask, but my Guide merely flicks his
tongue and drops his head, curling his body into an uncommunicative
ring.

Well. I can take a hint as well as anyone. I cross the clearing in a
few steps and approach the trio. They appear to be talking quietly
among themselves, although as I approach I can't hear any words.

"Commander Chakotay," the woman says as I draw near. "It's a pleasure
to finally meet you." Her hair is strawberry blonde and her voice is
pretty and light, with a charming French accent that's entirely
unexpected.

I nod cordially. "You have the advantage over me, Miss . . .?"

She shakes her head. "Our names are not important, Commander."

I've learned not to get into debates with people in the spirit realm.
It's never more than a waste of time and energy. If they don't want to
tell you something, they're not going to tell you. "All right." Since
they're not making any moves to stand, I sit down on the ground next
to the log. "I don't suppose you have any ideas about how to fight the
demons?"

One of the men, with sandy blond hair, starts to chuckle. "We've got
lots of ideas," he says in an accent I can't identify. I think it
might be Scandinavian. "The problem is, we can't tell them to
you."

Good grief. They're worse than my Guide. "You can't?"

"Nope." This from the third man, with a shock of unruly brown hair
that looks like it's never been touched by a comb. "We can't tell you
anything you don't already know, Commander."

Great. "If you can't tell me anything, why are you here?"

"To help you," the woman answers.

"But if you can't tell me anything I don't already know . . ."

"You know a lot more than you think you do," she says with a pretty
smile. "You just need to take some time to sort it out."

"I don't *have* time," I say angrily, standing up and starting to
pace. "The demons have Tom, and they're getting stronger!"

They all frown, and the blond man speaks. "If you don't take time to
sort it out, you'll never be able to help him."

The woman adds softly, "They're still learning how to control his
body, Chakotay. They can still be forced out."

I nod. I'd been pretty sure of that. "Phasers don't seem to have much
effect on them, but maybe we can modify them--"

The brunette shakes his head. "No. The demons aren't physically in
your world."

I'd figured as much. "Well, then what can I do to get them out? I
can't just *wish* them away."

The woman eyes me sharply. "Can't you?"

"No! It can't be that easy." I pause. "Can it?"

The brunette chuckles. "Probably not. Nothing ever is, where Tom is
concerned."

Tom. I'd almost forgotten. "Can *he* just wish them away?"

The woman smiles at me approvingly. "Maybe. Do you think that would
work?"

"I don't know. It's hard to believe it could be so simple . . . "

The blond man grins. "It's not what *you* believe that matters."

I digest that. "It never has been, has it? It's never mattered what I
believe. It's what Tom believes that's important." They don't answer,
but somehow I get the feeling that I'm on the right track. "If he
believes he can defeat the demons . . . "

"Then he can defeat the demons," the woman finishes.
"At least, that's the theory."

"The theory?"

"Your theory," she explains. "Remember, Commander, we can't tell you
anything you don't already know."

I'm frustrated. "Why not?"

"It's against the rules," she says simply. "We shouldn't even be here
talking to you."

"So why are you here?" I stare at them. "Who *are* you?"

"Friends of Tom's," the brunette says uncomfortably, ignoring the
glare he gets from the other two.

"Friends of--" I cut myself off and stare at them. For the first time,
I notice their clothing. They're in uniforms. Academy uniforms. Fourth
year cadets. "Oh my god," I whisper. "You're the cadets. The ones who
were killed . . . "

"His lover," the woman says softly.

"His best friend," the brunette adds.

"Another friend, a good one," the blond man finishes.

Even in my shock, I can't help but realize that they've just repeated
Tom's words back to me. I stare at them some more, noticing details
that had somehow escaped my attention before. The woman's hair is
streaked with red. Blood. All three of them are bruised and bloody.
There are bones sticking through the brunette's clothing and the blond
man is missing an arm. The more I look, the more damage I see. I don't
know how I missed it.

Just looking at them, I start to feel a little sick to my stomach.
It's bad enough for me to look at them, and I don't have the guilt of
having caused the injuries. I can't imagine what it must have been
like for Tom to see them, torn and bloodied spectral images of those
who had been his best friends . . . I shudder and look away.

The woman lets out a distressed noise, and when I look back, all the
injuries are gone. "I'm sorry,
Commander. You shouldn't have seen that."

"I wish I hadn't. Is that how you appeared to Tom when you visited
him?"

She nods, sadly. "Unfortunately. We hadn't learned to control our
appearance yet."

"Then you weren't trying to frighten him?"

The brunette answers, vehemently. "No! He was our friend, Commander.
We were trying to help him."

The blond man continues, "He was in very bad shape. Drinking every
night, sleeping with any available woman, not in contact with his
friends or his family
. . ."

"We couldn't stand to see him like that," the woman says softly. "He
was killing himself." She takes a deep breath. "We only wanted to say
that we didn't blame him for what had happened. We hoped it would help
him forgive himself, start to heal." She shakes her head. "We tried to
talk to him in his dreams. He ignored us."

"He just increased his drinking," the blond man said with a frown. "So
we decided we had to appear to him when he was awake, so he couldn't
ignore us."

"It was a mistake," the brunette said sadly. "The dead aren't meant to
communicate with the living. When we were in his quarters, we found we
couldn't speak, and you saw how we looked. . ."

I nod. "He thought he was having a nervous breakdown. So did the
doctors."

The woman is almost in tears. "That would have been better. If we had
known what we were doing to him . . . if we had known how we would
mark him . . . "

"Mark him?" I say slowly. I stare at them until comprehension dawns.
"That's how the demons got to him, isn't it? Seeing you somehow made
him visible to them."

They all nod, miserably. "He told you what he did after he left
Starfleet," the brunette says.

"Yes. He traveled around Earth for a while, visiting old ruins and
places like that."

"Ruins older than you can comprehend," the woman says. "Temples built
on the ruins of temples built on the ruins of temples. Places of
unimaginable power, where the boundaries between the visible world and
the unseen world are thin. That's where the demons live."

I nod. Our tribe has legends of places like that, sacred areas that
have housed spirits for generations.

"So Tom showed up, drunk and miserable-"

"-and glowing like a lantern in the darkness," the brunette finishes.
"Humans for the most part are invisible to the demons, but Tom had
seen us, and so now they could see him."

"So they began to follow him, just because they could see him?"

"No. It's more than that. They thrive on sorrow and pain. Tom's
suffering was like a gift to them."

"It's all our fault," the woman says. "We should have followed the
rules. We never should have appeared to him outside of his dreams.
None of this would have happened."

I shrug. "What's done is done, and you can't undo it. All you can do
is move past it. Tom knows that, more than any of us. What we have to
do now is figure out a way to kill these demons."

The woman shakes her head. "They're older than
mankind, Commander. As old as the Earth, and more powerful than you
can imagine. They can't be killed, only banished."

I shiver as a chill tears through me. "Banished, then. How can we
banish them?"

"*You* can't, Commander," she says.

I nod. "Tom has to do it."

"Yes. You can help him, but ultimately, it falls to him."

It's exactly as I've suspected all along. I rise to my feet, because I
suspect that I've gotten all I'm going to get here, and I'm suddenly
aware of the passage of time back on the ship. Time passes at an
unpredictable rate here; 60 minutes spent in conversation with my
Guide -- or a ghost -- can translate to anywhere between ten minutes
and two hours, ship time.

As I stand, the ghosts do likewise. The woman, Tom's lover, approaches
and for an instant I think she's going to place her hand on my arm,
but she stops just short of touching me. "One more thing, Commander.
You have some power over the demons, but it's weak because you fight
to deny their existence."

I chuckle. "Can you blame me?"

A wry grin. "No. But that denial handicaps you. You struggle to see
the demons, and when you do see them they are indistinct and blurry.
Am I correct?"

"You know you are."

"It will stay this way so long as you deny what's in front of you.
Only by accepting the truth of the demons' existence will you be able
to see them as Tom does. And only by seeing them as Tom does will you
be able to help him defeat them."

I nod. "I understand. Thank you."

The brunette, Tom's best friend, grins. "Don't thank us, Commander.
Remember, we didn't tell you anything you didn't already know."

I allow a skeptical expression to cross my face, but don't contradict
him. "I have to go."

They nod, and the woman speaks one last time.

"Commander, when you see Tom, will you tell him that we're sorry?"

I nod. "Of course. I don't think he'll accept it, though. He feels
responsible for your deaths . . ."

"It was a mistake," she says firmly, "and this is a far worse hell
than he deserves for making it. Help him, Commander. You're the only
one who can."

I take a deep breath. "I'll do my best." And in that instant, I'm back
in my quarters, alone.

I check the time and find that two hours have passed. I head back to
Sickbay immediately. The situation is unchanged. The Doctor has set up
an intravenous sedative drip, but he's growing progressively more
unhappy about it. "He's fighting it off, Captain. I don't think I'll
be able to keep him asleep for more than a few hours."

She nods. "Do your best." A quick look at me. "How was the meditation,
Chakotay?"

"Enlightening." I take a look at Tom's not-quite-still form on the
biobed, and suddenly know exactly what I have to do. "Captain, would
you leave me alone with him for a while?"

She looks at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am.
"Commander?"

"I need to be alone with him. Completely alone. No security guards."

She shakes her head. "Chakotay, we are dealing with a completely
unknown lifeform here and--"

"They're not alive, Captain. They're demons. *Real* demons. All the
sedatives and phasers and forcefields you can come up with won't stop
them once they become accustomed to Tom's body. They have to be
stopped now, while they're still weak."

She's understandably skeptical. "And you can stop them?"

"No. But Tom can. I just need to reach him." She's shaking her head
again and I continue before she can speak. "Erect a forcefield around
all of Sickbay. Strap Tom down with three or four sets of restraints.
Just counteract the sedatives and leave me alone with him for a little
while."

"Counteract the sedatives?"

"They don't affect the demons anyway, but if they Doctor's right,
they're keeping Tom unconscious. I need him awake."

She's not happy. "If he gets loose, and he's still not himself, he'll
probably try to kill you."

"I know that. I'm willing to take the risk. After what he did for me,
it's the least I can do for him. *Please*, Kathryn. It's the only
way." It's the use of her given name that gets her, and she finally
nods brusquely, and orders the Doctor to do as I've asked before
deactivating his program. He protests, but ultimately complies. The
last thing Kathryn does before she leaves the room is to arrange for
three teams of female security guards to remain outside Sickbay, armed
with two phasers each.

Then, finally, I'm alone with Tom. I stare at him, lying there, and am
more afraid than I've ever been. It only takes a few minutes before he
starts to stir. Without the constant supply of sedatives, the demons
are able to get his body moving pretty quickly. I take a quick glance
at the biomonitors, but can't tell whether Tom's waking up as well. I
pray to everything I hold sacred that he is, or I'll probably end up
dead.

As soon as Tom's eyes open, he focuses on me. His eyes are still
aflame, but I grit my teeth and move closer to the biobed. "Tom," I
say softly, "I hope you can hear me. I'm going to help you. All
right?"

The demons tense his body and pull against the straps, but even with
demon-infused strength, four sets of restraints are simply too much.
Nonetheless, it takes all of my courage to approach so I can touch
him.

There's only one thing I know that Tom holds dear, that he considers
sacred and holy and a transfer of power. When he loves me, it hurts
the demons. If I'm right, there's nothing intrinsically powerful about
the act itself; the power comes from the fact that Tom believes it
makes me strong. I think I can give him some of that power back by
performing the same act on
him.

I hope to all my gods that my intuition is correct. If not . . . well,
Tuvok can hardly arrest me for rape if I'm dead.

I begin. I know instinctively that I'm not as good at this as he is.
It's not a skill I ever really needed to develop. Not that this is my
first time, but my previous experience with men was fairly limited,
and honestly, I never much cared to do this. It was never as important
as this, either, so I keep going.

Nothing's happening. I risk a look at his face and wish I hadn't. It's
contorted with anger and hatred. His eyes are burning and the flames
are literally singeing his hair. He's pulling against the straps and
from the creaking noises I hear, it won't be long before he succeeds
in breaking through them. When he sees me looking at him, he lets out
a stream of words that I can't understand, but that I'm sure is a
curse.
Ignoring the furious pounding of my heart, I continue. Tom's struggles
are increasing and I'm beginning to think I've miscalculated badly,
when his body finally starts responding to my actions. I utter a small
prayer of thanks and continue, oblivious to the demons' cry of rage.

They're growing desperate. They force his body to twist and contort
beneath the restraints, seeking to throw me off, but I hang on for all
I'm worth and continue. Tom's cock swells again in my mouth, and
there's a catch in the steady stream of invective rushing past his
lips. It's almost a groan.

Determinedly, I continue. My neck is starting to ache from the awkward
position I'm in, and my lips and jaw are protesting the unfamiliar
activity, but I keep going and am rewarded with another groan. Never
breaking my contact with him, I look at his face again. His eyes are
still bright red but the flames have dampened.

It's working. I continue. I feel like I've been doing this forever,
and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up. Any other man would
have come by now, but I have to believe the demons are interfering. I
remember all the things Tom does to me, all the things that I can't
resist, and try one of them out. I get another catch of breath and a
moan, and when I look at his eyes, I can see pupils again. They're
still red, but at least they're vaguely human. He catches my gaze and
blinks and manages a word. "Don't-"

Shit. He doesn't understand. I realize suddenly that all of this is no
good unless Tom believes it will be; that if he doesn't believe this
will help, it won't. I speak with all the force of conviction I can
muster. "I'm transferring some of my power to you." It sounds inane as
I say it, but I hope desperately that it's enough of an explanation.

I continue with my task. Tom's body is still fighting against the
restraints, but his struggles are weakening. I'm surprised when he
speaks again, almost angrily. "Stop it, Chakotay. This isn't right."

Damn it. I hadn't counted on him resisting like this. "It *is* right.
When you do this for me you give me the power to defeat the demons. If
I do this for you, you'll get that power back. All you have to do is
accept it . . . "

I let my voice trail off and keep going. Another few minutes and I am
rewarded with another groan, a deep one. His breath catches in his
throat and his body tenses. He's close. He manages only one more
whispered desperate question, "Are you sure?"

I have never before lied as convincingly as I do now.
"Yes."

He tenses for a moment, then relaxes, and he's lost, jerking
convulsively in the restraints as he comes silently. I swallow for the
first time in my life, not wanting to do anything other than what Tom
does when the situation is reversed, and wait until he's caught his
breath before standing up and stretching out my neck. As Tom's eyes
flutter open, I hold my breath and wait to see the familiar blue.

I'm disappointed.

The eyes that slowly open to stare at me apprehensively aren't blue.
They're not red, either.

They're violet.

---

The End