The BLTS Archive - Glass third in the Inequality series by Sigrid (sigridthehaughty@yahoo.com) --- DISCLAIMERS: Standard disclaimers. Voyager and the characters are not mine, but the story is. Do not archive without my permission. SPOILERS: Thirty Days, Scorpion, The Gift (mildly) DEDICATED TO: AbyKitten, for being one of my greatest friends. --- Sterilising equipment isn't so bad. It's not the helm of a starship, that's for sure, but it gives you time to think. After a while though, you want to stop thinking. "Was that a sigh I heard *Ensign*? If you're bored, I'm sure we can find something else for you to do. After all, you are working a double shift." You know, I've noticed that quite a few people have a problem calling me Ensign. Unfortunately, the Doctor isn't one of them. I feel like grabbing a phaser and shooting at the control panel that controls his program, but I won't. I might blast that damn mobile emitter out of an airlock, though. "No, *Crewman*, I'm fine." That shut him up. Thank God. I wish I could be on the bridge. I miss being at the controls of a starship. I make Voyager move. That's really. . . something. That's why I became a pilot. But I can't bring myself to do it. I really can't. There are just some things I can't face. Harry's tried to convince me to go back to my regular shift, but I just said no. Hell, *Tuvok* even tried to convince me to start up there. Well, all right, it was so he could streamline the security controls on the Conn panel, but still. . . he didn't have to ask me. Finally, finished that batch. Where's the Doctor? Oh, right, I see him. Talking to Seven, yet again. You know, if he weren't a hologram. . . Nah. He hasn't told me to, but I move toward another batch that needs cleaning. Might as well impress him. I thought his matrix was going to short out when I requested shifts here instead of the bridge. Might as well finish the job properly. Kate. . . the Captain. Hell, no one's here, might as well call her Kate. She hasn't come near me since the day I was released. That was about a week ago. Seven days. I saw her a couple of times in the messhall, but I just ignored her, and she me. Sometimes, I can't quite believe what I did. I mean, I love her. But it's getting clearer to me that she didn't really love me. So why did she start all this with me? I wish I could answer that, but I can't. At first, the sex just seemed to happen. She kept trying to distance herself from me, but then. . . then she sorta just took control. I remember one night, in Sandrine's'. Everyone had left, and she just walked up to me and started kissing me. Just like that. Hell, I was in heaven. Then she just pulled me to the pool table, and that was it. It followed that sort of pattern the rest of the time we were together. Almost eighteen months. Eighteen months. Especially after the crisis with the Borg and Species 8472, when Seven arrived and Kes left. Kes. . . I wonder what she would make of all this. I miss her, a lot. So does Neelix. We would talk about her, sometimes, in the messhall, after hours. She was always willing to listen, she never judged. . . I guess when you're telepathic, and you can feel other people's pain, it's hard not to feel for them. I wonder where she is now. Is she on another plane of existence? I refuse to believe that she's dead, I don't think she could be. It just doesn't seem right. I hope she's happy. I wonder what it would take to make Kate happy. Obviously not me. I don't think I was ever what she wanted, not in the long-term. Oh, I won't deny that that doesn't hurt, it does, still, even after all she's done. I just wish. . . I just wish. . . "Tom?" "Fuck it!" Damn, I've dropped the test tubes. I watch them shatter against the floor. Then I look up, just in time to see Chakotay kneeling to pick up the glass. "Sorry," I mumble. Shit, I thought it was Harry, for some stupid reason. "For what?" I raise an eyebrow at him, as I kneel in front of him. Why's he being so. . . "Swearing, dropping the test-tubes. . . " I wave my hand around, as if that's going to come up with an answer, when I notice him wincing and turning his hand up. Shit, he's cut. "Damn, Chakotay. That's nasty. Come here," and I lead him to a bio-bed. He smiles, tightly, it must hurt. I try to lighten the mood. "Hey, Commander. What happened to the brave Maquis warrior I remember so well?" He forces a laugh, as I apply salve to the cut, then run it over with a dermal regenerator. Soon, it's as if it was never even there. It takes a few minutes, and I smile, as I trace the cut lightly with the instrument. "What are you doing here, Chakotay? Social visit?" "Of a sort." Damn, this is like pulling weeds out of my grandmother's garden. Not a nice job. "To see the Doc?" "No." I pull back, letting go of his hand. He lets it fall, and automatically uses it to lever himself off the biobed. "By the way, don't put any pressure on it for a couple of days," I say, oh-so-helpfully, as he flinches. "Thanks, Paris." Chakotay obviously isn't comfortable with the 'Ensign' thing either. Strange, I would have thought he would be. . . No, that's unfair, I think, as I steer him off the bed, his hand on my shoulder. After all, he visited me in the brig twice, and Harry told me he protested against Kate's. . . the Captain's orders. Suddenly, I realise my hand's still on his shoulder, a bit unnecessary really. It's not like he hurt his foot. Still, simple courtesy and all that. I let him go, and smile. He smiles back, a little uncertainly, and stands there. . . my god, is he *shuffling*? Yeah, he's shuffling. He finally looks up when I start speaking. "So Commander. This is 'sort-of' a social visit, and you're not here to see the Doc." "No, I came to see you." Yeah, well, that was kinda obvious, I almost say, but I don't. Instead, I just wait patiently, hopping on the bed myself, just so I have something to do. "When are you coming back to the bridge, Tom?" "I. . . I don't know. . . I'm not sure if that's a good idea. . . " "Why, you've served your punishment. The Monean thing, that's all in the past now, isn't it?" Does he know something? He seems to be asking me in a way that implies 'I know what's wrong but I want to hear you say it'. But then I instantly discard it. He doesn't know. Kate wouldn't tell him, especially not now. It was probably bad enough that she was sleeping with a lieutenant. A demoted ensign who disobeyed her orders? Don't think so, somehow. "I'm just not sure I'm ready for that at the moment." He nods, and turns to go, but before he does, he turns and says something so unexpected. "You know, we're all behind you, Tom. We're your friends. *I'm* your friend. Nothing. . . is going to get out-of-hand if you come back. I'll see that it doesn't." Then, with a nod to the Doctor, who's just walked in, he leaves. I'm not sure what to make of all this, and the only thing that stops me from puzzling it out right now, is the Doctor's yell. "Mister Paris, I told you to sterilise the equipment, not use it for throwing practice! Mister Paris, Ensign! What do you think you are doing. . . " Well, that's strange, did the Doctor just completely disappear? I wonder what could have triggered that. Nothing to do with the controls I just pressed on his access panel, I'm sure. Enjoying the silence, and the time it gives me to think about new things, like Chakotay's strange mood, I turn back to the sterilisation table and start another batch. It's only when I return the next day, that the Doc reminds me that I forgot to clear up the splintered glass. Story of my life. --- continued in the fourth story in the Inequality series 'Plain Sight'