The BLTS Archive - Damn You, Jefferies! by Sarah M. (brazenhussy@home.com) --- Everything that is, was, or shall be Star Trek belongs to Paramount. However, what spews forth from my feverish little brain belongs to me and is Copyright 1998 by Sarah M. Sharing this with friends is fine, but please ask before posting this to another site, and keep all disclaimers and Copyright info intact. Warning: keep it civil – any and all flames will be deleted with reckless abandon. This story is rated R for expletives and a kiss between two men. You've been warned. If you don't like it, then don't read it. --- Tom Paris hated Jefferies Tubes. He hated the close, confined feeling they gave him, he hated the way the metal grating below him cut into his knees, but most of all, he hated the fact that he was *in* one, right now, and he had no one but himself to blame. "Damn you, Jefferies!" he cursed softly, and felt somewhat better. After Voyager's last bout with nasty Delta Quadrant aliens, in this case the Xirra, an insectoid race, the ship's systems were in bad shape. They had limped into a nebula and were now in the process of licking their many wounds. Since there wasn't any flying to be done, Tom had volunteered to help B'Elanna out in Engineering, knowing she'd need all the extra hands she could get. "Tom! I really appreciate this -- Voyager's a mess, and the Captain's given us twelve hours to restore all her major systems," B'Elanna Torres spoke quickly and efficiently, as was her wont, and she was obviously in her element, striding confidently around Engineering as she coordinated the massive repair effort. "I need you to go to Jefferies Tube 47-Alpha -- a couple of Bio-Neural Gelpacks got fried in the last attack, and Sickbay keeps losing power intermittently. The Doctor and Kes have a lot of patients to treat, some of them serious. If you can just replace the Gelpacks, great. If not, you'll need to bypass them and reroute power through a secondary system. When you're done with that, let me know. There's lots more where that came from. Got it?" "Yes, Ma'am!" Tom saluted, and grinned. He hadn't thought anyone could say so much without stopping to take a breath. "Just tell me where you keep the extra Gelpacks, and I'll get out of your hair." She told him where to find them, her mind already working on the warp coils, and he set out with three of them towards the nearest Jefferies Tube, automatically concealing his discomfort as he crawled inside. So there he was, scrabbling down the Tube on all fours, wincing at the pain in his knees and cursing God, Jefferies -- what kind of sick, twisted asshole *was* he, anyway? -- and himself for being such a nice guy. He sighed in relief as he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. He knew he'd have to get into one more, but just the thought of being able to stretch out his aching back and neck was enough to lift his spirits a little. He crawled faster, dimly grateful that no one was around to see him -- he could imagine how silly he looked -- and spilled out into the junction with a small whoop of joy. "Lieutenant." The voice was amused. Tom looked up, and grinned. "Commander. I see I'm not the only one who's been recruited." Chakotay smiled and gestured to the panel behind him. "General Torres has assigned me to repair these power relays, but it's taking a bit longer than I thought it would. What's *your* punishment?" Tom laughed. Chakotay's description of B'Elanna was too right. "A couple of gelpacks bit it, and it's causing havoc in Sickbay. I have to either replace or bypass them." "I'd better not keep you, then. See you later at Sandrine's?" Chakotay asked casually, turning back to his panel. "Sure. Shift change is in about three hours, how does 21:00 sound? We could play a few games of pool," Tom offered. "Why don't we meet at 20:00? That way we could grab some dinner before you wipe my butt with the pool table," Chakotay asked over his shoulder. Tom paused to let *that* mental image sink into his subconscious, then simpered and batted his lashes. "Your place or mine?" The older man hesitated for a split second, his face half-turned towards Tom, the expression on it unreadable. "Mine." "It's a date." Chakotay stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and turned his attention back to the power relays, chuckling quietly. "Then I'll see you later," he said. "I look forward to it." Tom knew he couldn't put it off any longer, so he sighed heavily, drawing another chuckle from the other man, and crawled into Jefferies Tube 47-Alpha. As he made his way to his target, he wondered when his and Chakotay's thinly disguised contempt for each other had become grudging mutual (he hoped) respect, and then tentative friendship. It had happened too gradually to notice, but now Tom found that he had a genuine liking for Chakotay. Oh, sure, he still teased the guy -- it was just too easy sometimes -- but these days he got the feeling that the older man didn't mind so much any more. He crawled along, thinking absently about how he really *was* looking forward to their "date". When Chakotay was off-duty, he became almost a different person -- relaxed, informal, quick to laugh. Tom decided to tell him at dinner about the Delaney sisters' new sexual reclamation project -- Ensign Vorik. The hapless Vulcan had had no idea what he was in for with those two, and Tom was sure that Chakotay would get a kick out of hearing the juicy details. The Commander had a great laugh, he reflected. The way his eyes crinkled up, his full, sensual lips parting to... wait a minute. Where the hell did *that* come from? Tom stopped in his tracks. He didn't think of Chakotay that way -- *did* he? Sure, the Commander was good-looking, drop-dead gorgeous in fact, but Tom had just recently discovered that he didn't *hate* the guy anymore -- what was all this about full, sensual lips, for Christ's sake? *Think about it later, Helm Boy; you have a job to do.* He shook his head to clear it and continued down the tube. As Tom reached his destination and began the process of removing the burned-out gelpacks, his thoughts returned to the Commander. His fingers deftly disconnected the dead Gelpacks and replaced them with the healthy ones, and his mind worked. What exactly did he feel for the other man? Tom wasn't really sure; all he knew was that since he had taken the time to actually get to know Chakotay the person -- as opposed to Commander Chakotay the First Officer, always maddeningly centered and in control -- he'd been much more at ease around him on- duty as well as off. Yes, the Commander still expected a hundred and ten percent out of Paris, but Tom no longer felt that he was being singled out, and when he was ordered to improve his performance by this many or that many percentage points, he did so; not, as in the past, because he felt he had something to prove -- *I can take whatever you can dish out, Big Man* -- but because he genuinely wanted to please Chakotay, to make his eyes light up with pride. The Commander had beautiful eyes, Tom reflected, making an adjustment to one of the gelpacks. Deep and dark, a person could drown in them if they weren't careful. *Enough, already! Concentrate on the damned gelpacks.* Paris made one final adjustment and consulted his tricorder. There, that should do it. He reconnected the power couplings and grunted approvingly when the gelpacks failed to explode in his face. He tapped his combadge. "Paris to Sickbay." "Go ahead, Tom." Kes's voice sounded strange in the closed space. "I've replaced the bad gelpacks -- how are your systems?" "The lights have stopped flickering and the instrument panels are all back on-line. Just in time, too." The relief was evident in her voice. "Thanks, Tom -- you're a literal lifesaver." "Aw, heck, Ma'am, I live to serve. Paris out." Tom was smiling, proud of himself, about to hail B'Elanna, when he heard an explosion and a strangled cry from the Tube junction. Shit -- Chakotay! He crawled back down the Jefferies Tube faster than he would have thought possible, dimly aware of his knees as they screamed in protest. He felt his sleeve catch on an outcropping on the tube wall and, not slowing down, jerked it away savagely -- *I don't have *time* for this! Damn you, Jefferies!* He reached the end of the Tube and swung his legs around so he'd land on his feet this time. He stood and quickly surveyed the damage. Chakotay was unconscious, sprawled against the wall opposite the panel he'd been working on. "Ah, Jesus Chakotay, no!" Tom fought down the wave of panic that was threatening to take control of him, and forced himself to focus. Torres's increasingly agitated voice squawked out of the Commander's combadge, and Tom quickly tapped his own. "Paris to Torres." "Tom! What the hell *happened* in there? I read a massive power spike from Chakotay's location, and there are random failures all throughout that section -- doors, air filtration systems -- and where's Chakotay?" As B'Elanna's words came rapid-fire over the comm system, Tom assured himself that the other man was still breathing, then straightened to answer the Chief Engineer. "The Commander's hurt, B'Elanna." His voice was tight, but steady. "I don't know how badly. I need you to beam him directly to Sickbay!" As he spoke, Paris turned to the cause of the injury. The panel was shooting off sparks, and small tongues of flame licked at its edges. Shit. The fire suppression system must be off-line, too. "I can't do that, Tom." Torres sounded, if it were possible, even more pissed off. She was obviously blaming herself for putting Chakotay in his current situation. "The last attack knocked out the transporters. I've got people working on it now, but it could be a while before they get them running. Can you handle things until then?" Her voice became hopeful -- she knew he'd had a little medical training in the Academy. "I don't have much choice, do I?" Tom replied without sarcasm. "Send word to the Doctor -- I'll hail him as soon as I've taken care of the relay. Paris out." Throughout their conversation, Tom had been pulling open panel after panel, searching. As he tapped his badge to cut the transmission, he opened another one and found what he was looking for. He pulled out a hand-held extinguisher and sprayed down the fire. The resulting noxious cloud left Tom coughing violently and gasping for air. Knowing that if it was bad for him, it would be that much worse for Chakotay, he reached back into the panel and grabbed an emergency medkit, tossing it into the Jefferies Tube. He then caught the Commander under the arms and dragged him towards the opening. "Now I know why they called you 'Big Man' in the Maquis" Tom groaned, backing into the tube and hauling Chakotay in after him. As he did so, he rapped his head smartly against the opening. "Damn you, Jefferies!" he muttered absently, clutching his head, then turned to attach the magnetic door handle and pull, sighing in relief as the door slid shut, trapping the suffocating cloud on the other side. He retrieved the medkit and removed the tricorder, running it over the Commander's body, steeling himself for his first real look at the other man's injuries. All the same, when the readings appeared on the small screen, he felt his control begin to crack. "Ah, shit, Chakotay, stay with me. God, two broken ribs, fractured collarbone... Oh Jesus shit third degree burns on face and neck... Shit, Chakotay, wake up goddamnit... Concussion, cranial swelling... shit shit shit!" Unaware that he was speaking aloud, Tom tore through the medkit, finding something to dull the pain. There wasn't much else in the kit except a few temporary bandages and a dermal regenerator; it really was for emergencies only, and Tom knew Chakotay needed more sophisticated attention. Having administered the hypospray, he hailed the Doctor, fighting to keep his voice steady, and for the most part, succeeding. "Paris to the Doctor. I'm in Jefferies Tube 47-Alpha with Cmdr. Chakotay. I'm uploading my tricorder readings to you now. Has Lt. Torres gotten the transporters back on- line?" "Not yet, although she expects to have them fixed at least enough to transport non- organic matter within a few minutes. I'm analyzing the tricorder data, and will have Kes assemble all the equipment you're going to need." At this, Tom's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest -- *You don't expect *me* to perform surgery!* -- and shut it again as he realized that it was the only option open to them at present: the Doctor still had other patients to treat in Sickbay. He swallowed the fear as the EMH continued. "Maintain your tricorder link with Sickbay, and we'll get those supplies to you as soon as we can." "Acknowledged. Paris out." He followed the Doctor's instructions and waited impatiently, his eyes darting nervously over Chakotay's still features. Could he do this? He honestly didn't know, but there was no choice -- he had to try. He couldn't let the other man die. The thought of losing him was too much to bear, and he doubled over in shock as the realization of his feelings hit him like a fist. "Oh, Chakotay," he whispered, one finger gently tracing the older man's cheekbone. "Please forgive me. I didn't know..." --- Meanwhile... --- Chakotay was floating -- well, in a four foot by four foot Jefferies Tube, perhaps *floating* wasn't the right word. Hovering? Whatever. The point was, the shock and pain of the explosion had forced his consciousness from his body and now he was -- OK, *crouching* -- near it. He felt no fear; he wasn't afraid of death in any case, but he knew it wasn't his time. If it had been, he'd already be walking with his ancestors now, far away from the cramped corridor in which he now found himself. So he knew that Tom would heal him, even if Tom himself didn't know it yet... Tom. After the conversation they'd had earlier, Chakotay had been kicking himself. Gods, do you think you could've been just a bit more obvious? And the way he'd reacted when Tom had said: "It's a date." Chakotay sighed, shaking his head. Ah, well. There really wasn't anything he could do about it now; he'd just have to wait and see how things went tonight at dinner. The Commander turned his attention to the power relays, and wondered, as he had several times over the last few months, exactly when he had stopped hating the cocky Lieutenant and started respecting, liking, and finally loving him. He didn't have the answer this time, either. The only thing he knew for certain was that, as he had gotten to know Tom better, away from the bridge, his opinion of the man had begun to change drastically. When Paris was off-duty, he shed much -- though not all -- of his fly-boy attitude and became simply Tom: relaxed, funny, slightly cynical in a non-offensive way, and Chakotay looked forward to his company. On the bridge, the Commander no longer felt as though he was engaged with Paris in a war of wills -- the Lieutenant seemed to genuinely want to improve his reaction times -- and when he watched Tom at the helm, he often found himself mesmerized by the fluid grace and confidence the younger man unconsciously displayed as his nimble fingers played over the control panel. Chakotay briefly imagined those fingers running through his hair, touching his face, his body, everywhere, and sighed again before shaking himself firmly. *You have work to do, Big Man.* Chakotay ran his tricorder over the work he'd done so far. He made a small correction to one of the relays and scanned it again. Good -- that ought to do it. He reconnected the power conduit, saw, heard, and -- *Gods!* -- felt the explosion, and the next thing he knew, he was floating above the whole mess, in no pain, watching with a detached interest as Tom came shooting out of the Jefferies Tube and took immediate stock of the situation. Chakotay felt a stab of sympathy as he saw Tom struggle with his panic, which turned to pride as the other man got himself under control. *I'm still here, there's nothing to worry about,* he tried to say, and was mildly surprised when no sound came out. Then his mental hand slapped his mental forehead in exasperation. Of course. *No vocal cords, no voice, genius.* He sighed and listened to the conversation with B'Elanna, and watched as Tom put out the fire and turned, coughing, to grab the medkit and toss it into the tube. He laughed when he heard Tom's remark about the origin of his nickname. He'd let the Lieutenant discover for himself, if he wanted to, the other reason he'd been called "Big Man" in the Maquis. Grinning, Chakotay followed himself and Tom into the Jefferies Tube, wincing in sympathy when Tom banged his head on the opening. He listened with interest as the Lieutenant listed his injuries, leaning over the younger man's shoulder to better see the tricorder readings. *Ouch,* he thought as he looked at his prone body with a raised eyebrow. *Way to go, Big Man.* He wasn't worried, though; even after hearing Tom's conversation with the Doctor, knowing that the Lieutenant would have to render any treatment to Chakotay himself. He knew that Tom would be able to center himself and draw from his Field Medic training experience. The one thing he didn't expect was to see Tom suddenly convulse, then reach out a hand and lightly touch his face, to hear Tom's soft voice, choked with emotion. "Oh, Chakotay... Please forgive me. I didn't know..." Chakotay gasped. He soared briefly with joy -- *YES!* -- and then focused again on the frightened man before him, wanting -- *needing* -- desperately to comfort, to soothe his fears. Seemingly of its own accord, Chakotay's mental hand reached out to gently stroke Tom's light brown hair. "Oh, Tom," he sighed, then jerked back in shock as Tom's head snapped up at his touch and whipped around, his eyes wild. "*Chakotay?!?*" --- When Tom felt the hand softly caress his hair, and heard the voice, *Chakotay's* voice, he'd blurted out the Commander's name without thinking. Looking behind him, down the empty Jefferies Tube, he felt like an idiot. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he began to turn back to the body stretched out before him, and froze as he sensed a tentative hand touch his back, and the voice spoke to him again inside his mind. "Tom." "Shit! Just when I need my brain for something other than thinking up smart-ass remarks, it deserts me. That's just fucking great!" Tom flung his hand out in despair, where it connected solidly with the wall of the tube. "Damn you, Jefferies!" he cursed softly, lightly rubbing the offended hand. "Tom," Chakotay tried again, his mental fingers stroking the Lieutenant's back. "I'm here with you now. I know you can hear me." He chuckled. "Trust me, Tom. You're not going nuts. Unless we both are." Now *there's* a happy thought. "Answer me, Tom." "Chakotay?" Tom whispered. He stared down at the Commander's body in confusion. "Where *are* you?" "I'm here, right behind you. Can you feel me?" Chakotay ran both hands up Tom's back to his shoulders, feeling the tension. He began, gently but firmly, to massage the knots there and in Tom's neck, smiling as the other man sighed into his touch. "Yes," breathed Tom, "I can feel you, Chakotay. I'm so scared," he whispered as the invisible hands continued to work their magic. "I know you are. Don't be. I trust you, Tom. I know you can do this." "But *how* do you know? *I* don't even know if I can do it!" Tom's voice stayed low, but became thick with his feelings. "I couldn't bear it if I made some stupid mistake and lost you, just when... when... Oh, *God!!* I'm so sorry, Chakotay -- I didn't *know* until now! I didn't know that I love you, and now it might be too late!!" The last strand of Tom's control snapped, and he was sobbing, tears streaming down his face. Invisible arms snaked around his chest and gently pulled him back into a tight embrace. "Shhh..." Chakotay rested his cheek on Tom's beautiful hair, one arm holding the weeping man against his chest, the other hand softly rubbing his arm. "I know because if you *couldn't* do it, I'd be in the Great Forest right now, talking with my father. It's not too late, Tom. We have plenty of time." He felt Tom begin to quiet, and continued to rock him and whisper soothing words until the medical supplies started to materialize. "Are you alright?" he asked, as Tom began to stir in his arms. Tom chuckled, a little surprised at the fact that he felt no embarrassment for having bared his soul so completely. "Yeah. I'm OK. Let's see what the Doctor sent us." Reluctantly, he sat up, removing himself from the strong arms, wondering if the real ones would feel as good. One hand still resting tenderly on his shoulder, he sensed Chakotay's laughter. "Only one way to find out, Helm Boy." Tom's badge tweedled and Kes's voice came over the comm. "Kes to Lt. Paris." "Paris here. The equipment arrived intact. What does the Doctor want me to do?" For the first time since the explosion, Tom felt completely focused, able to do what needed to be done, and he knew who was responsible for that. He sent a silent thanks over his shoulder and received a reassuring pat in return. Tom could hear the Ocampan's smile as she answered. "He wants you to activate his autonomous emitter. It should have arrived with the rest of the supplies. The most serious cases in Sickbay are out of immediate danger and I can look after the others for a while, so he's going to work on the Commander, and you'll assist him." Tom let out a long breath. Even though he'd steeled himself for the operation and had been ready to go through with it, he was immensely relieved that the Doctor would be taking over. Rooting through the equipment, he tapped his badge. "Acknowledged. I found him." Paris held up the holographic emitter and began to push its buttons. "Good luck, Tom. Kes out." The Doctor materialized in a crouching position and immediately began to inspect his tools. "Lieutenant. I trust Kes has filled you in. Has the Commander regained consciousness?" Tom blinked. How should he answer *that*? "Umm... no?" Tom felt the hand on his shoulder tighten involuntarily, and he heard Chakotay... god, was he *giggling*? Tom shook his head, smiling. *You're going to pay for this, Big Man,* he thought, sending the Commander into another laughing fit. "Either he has or he hasn't, Lieutenant." The Doctor looked mildly annoyed, which was nothing new. "Which is it?" "I'm sorry, Doctor, I'll explain later. No, the Commander's body is still unresponsive to external stimuli." Well, at least the statement was accurate. "What do we do next?" Chakotay knew that his presence now would be a distraction for Tom, so he gave the pilot one more light squeeze and withdrew a few feet down the corridor, settling back to watch the two men work. "Alright, Lieutenant. Our top priority is to relieve that cranial swelling. Hand me the subdermal regenerator..." Tom followed the Doctor's instructions to the letter, slapping the instruments into the EMH's hand with increasing confidence. The procedures took about half an hour, and the two worked steadily, the Lieutenant pausing only twice to swipe an arm across his sweating brow, and Chakotay watched with quiet pride as Tom helped the Doctor to heal his broken body. Tom finished running the dermal regenerator over the burns on the Commander's face and neck as the Doctor conferred with Kes over the comm system. He took a moment, gazing tenderly at the restored features, before addressing the EMH. "That's it, Doctor. Dermal regeneration complete. How do his readings look to you?" The hologram turned his attention to the tricorder. "Confirmed. Well done, Mr. Paris. Lt. Torres has informed Kes that the transporters should be fully operational within the next few minutes. When they are, you and the Commander will both be beamed directly to Sickbay; there are some additional tests I'll need to run. In the meantime, you may revive Cmdr. Chakotay and welcome him back to the land of the living." Tom grinned. "Acknowledged, Doctor." He sat back as the doctor vanished, his back muscles complaining at having been hunched over for so long. Picking up the correct hypospray, he looked over his shoulder at the seemingly empty corridor. "Get ready, Chakotay," he said softly. "This could be a shock." Chakotay closed his eyes and braced himself, not knowing what to expect. When the Lieutenant applied the stimulant, he felt a sharp tug in his chest, then an incredible heaviness as he settled back into his body. He lay there quietly for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling, surprised at how tired he felt. After a moment, he became aware of a soft voice calling his name, a finger gently tracing his tattoo. He sighed happily and turned his face towards the caress. "Chakotay," Tom whispered again, his face inches away from the Commander's, and was rewarded by the brown eyes opening slowly to meet his blue ones. The deck rocked beneath him as the force of the passion in those eyes washed over his body, and he shuddered in response, unable to look away even if he'd wanted to. When he was capable of speaking again, he brushed the backs of his fingers lightly down the other man's cheekbone. "I love you." "I know." Chakotay reached up to cup Tom's face in his hand. He smiled. "I love you, too, Tom." Slowly, his eyes drifted shut. "I know." Chakotay moaned softly as Tom's lips tenderly brushed his own, barely touching. As Tom withdrew, not wanting to tire the other man further, Chakotay reopened his eyes. "How do you feel?" Tom whispered, still gently stroking the Commander's face, reluctant to break contact. "Beat," Chakotay answered honestly. "About our date tonight..." "Shhh." Tom smiled and put a finger over the other man's lips. "You rest. You were right -- we have plenty of time." Chakotay smiled back and allowed his eyes to close once again. He shifted his weight gingerly as he became aware of the hard metal grid beneath him. Tom winced in sympathy. "Pretty uncomfortable, isn't it?" Chakotay nodded, still fidgeting. "Damn you, Jefferies!" he muttered absently, and Tom's surprised bark of laughter was the last thing he registered before the transporter beamed them to Sickbay. --- The End