The BLTS Archive - Circles
by Sigrid (sigridthehaughty@yahoo.com)

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DISCLAIMERS: Standard disclaimers. Voyager and the characters are not
mine, but the story is. Do not archive without my permission.

SPOILERS: State of Flux (I think?) Maneuvers, Investigations,
Basics... most Seska eps, excepting Worst Case Scenario.

DEDICATED TO: AbyKitten, for being my greatest net buddy.

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"I just hope that what we had? I just hope that wasn't love. That
thought scares the shit out of me."

I only came here tonight, because I couldn't sleep. Understandable, I
guess, what with everything that has happened, but I thought that
maybe the Doctor could give me something. That's why I'm here.

But now I'm wide-awake, and thoughts of sleep have completely left me.

"... I hope you find yourself Seska. Somewhere."

There's a pause, and then I hear a chair scraping back. He's leaving.
Quickly I press myself against the wall of the Doctor's office, and he
passes me without a glance. As the sickbay doors swish shut, I let out
the breath I've been holding, and prepare to move out of the sickbay
myself, only...

"Commander? Is there something I can help you with?"

Shit, the Doctor. I turn to him, nodding, a weak excuse passing my
lips before I can think of anything else to say.

"No, thank you. I couldn't sleep, but now I feel suddenly very tired."

He cocks his head at me, muttering something about indecisive humans
or something, then he turns into his office, barely granting me a
second glance. A minute passes.

"Well, Commander. Far be it from me to tell the second in command what
to do, but wouldn't it be advisable to go to bed, before your sudden
'tiredness' overtakes you?"

I nod, not even bothering to come up with a retort, leaving the
sickbay and Seska and the Doctor and walking... where?

I just walk, around Deck Five, Deck Six, Deck Seven... mess-hall... I
pass an observation lounge, and on impulse, walk in. It's unoccupied,
and I request a security lockout. It's quiet here, I can think.

Tomorrow, I have a meeting with the Captain, to decide what to do
about Seska's body, and the other Kazon. She was all for disposing of
their bodies and not saying another word about it. It was me that
suggested returning them to the Kazon. She nodded in agreement,
although she still remained undecided about Seska. Seska's body.

Seska's dead. I still can't get my brain around that concept. In some
ways, in all the important ways, she died a year ago. The Bajoran
singer I feel in love with in the Maquis died a year ago. It had been
a quiet death, after the initial shocks and confusion had died down.
The disgust. Soon, it was like she was never there.

Until she stole transporter technology from us. It's hard to believe
that there's no one else that has technology like that in this part of
the Delta Quadrant, but there you go. After all, it's in abundance in
the Alpha Quadrant, isn't it?

My mind's starting to wander off again, but I have to focus, to deal
with the recent events, today's events, tonight's events.

Tom Paris. And Seska. Seska and Tom. Tom and Seska. It doesn't... it
doesn't work, in my head. They don't fit. Not at first anyway. But
some things make sense, suddenly. Why she was so keen to put Tom down
at every opportunity when we were alone together. How he sometimes
knew things that I hadn't told the crew. I had put it down to his
computer hacking skills, I knew they were superior to most. He would
have been a valuable asset to the Maquis, if we had been able to
harness them. To harness him. But we lost him in the first mission. It
amazes me, sometimes, how Starfleet just knew where he would be, at
that time. The whole ship was supposed to go on that mission, but we
needed to overhaul thrusters, and we still needed to complete the
trades deal... some Ferengi or other. Great way to go, being caught in
the midst of dealings with a Ferengi. Not exactly what you call 'going
out in a blaze of glory'.

And we never heard from him again. Seska somehow knew that he had been
captured by Starfleet, and then I saw the broadcasts of his trial.
They made such a big deal of it. Starfleet prodigy gone bad. End of
the Paris era. I saw his father publicly disown his son, I saw Tom
being led away with an ankle bracelet on, and gelcuffs around his
hands. I saw him testify to being a member of the Maquis, but he named
no one. In the midst of my... dislike?... for him, I still couldn't
help admiring him for not giving us up. Even though they know who I
was anyway, and that he was on my ship. But Tom never caved. Even if
his father didn't acknowledge it, he did him proud, in a twisted way.

This whole story is twisted.

And now I find out that Tom and Seska were together. I had never had a
clue. How much else had I not seen? Tuvok? Seska? Who else was there
on my ship, ready to betray me? I had had spies before, on my ship.
What Maquis captain hadn't? But I had always sussed them out. I always
knew. I had always known. But now I find out that my lover had been
cheating on me with one of my worst enemies?

It's like rubbing salt in my wounds. It hurts. It hurts that I
couldn't see what was right in front of me. It hurts that I was
betrayed by those I loved. And it hurts that it was Seska. And it
hurts that it was Tom, I may as well admit that. It hurts especially
that it was Tom. I had tried to help him, even though I didn't trust
him as far as I could throw him, and it hurt that he had felt able to
do this to me. It hurts that he slept with the woman I loved.

It hurt that it was Tom who had been sent to catch Seska's spy on
Voyager, and that they had left me out of the plan. It hurts that even
now, Kathryn didn't feel able to trust me, still. After everything we
had been through together. And that she could use Tom. And in the
middle of my rage, I felt for Tom, trapped on that Kazon vessel. But
it was for the good of the fucking ship. The fucking crew. One life
for one hundred and fifty lives. A fair exchange. A fucking Starfleet
exchange.

A life is still a life, that's what my father said. All life is
sacred, even that of a deer, a fox, a bear. A spider, a fly. A life is
worth everything and it is worth nothing. It is worth nothing if you
do nothing, and everything if you do what you wish. I had laughed at
that. I had laughed at a great deal of what my father said. I had not
been a good son, not like Bey or Nayib. I miss him. I miss them all.
They were my family, they were people I could trust...

Now, I feel as if I can trust no one on this ship. And that hurts a
lot. And I can't understand why I am so hurt that it's Tom Paris. I
can't understand why this feels like betrayal. This isn't B'Elanna.
This isn't even Kathryn. This is Tom. Paris. Tom Paris, Starfleet
washout and Maquis failure. Probably an alcoholic and definitely not
trustworthy. And yet it still hurts. I don't even want to think about
why. I don't want to think about why it hurts me so much. Tom said
tonight that I deserved more than that. I deserve better. And I do...

"He likes you."

It was such a non-sequitur, I laughed. She just hit me on the arm, and
propped herself up on one elbow, trailing her fingers up and down my
arm. I stared at the ceiling and then at her.

"Who likes me?"

"Tom. He likes you."

"I'm pretty hard to resist."

She just grinned at me, and swept a quick kiss on my lips. I just
smiled at her.

"Do you like him?"

"Sure, he seems decent enough, when you get past the arrogant 'Paris'
attitude..."

She hit me again, lightly. "You know what I meant?"

I raised an eyebrow at her, pretending to look intelligent and
confused. She just laughed at me, and flopped down on the bed. I
rolled on top of her, started to kiss her neck.

"Why? You jealous? Think I'm going to jump ship and run off with the
Admiral's son?"

She smiled, a satisfied smile, and reached up for me. I stopped
smiling then, and just looked at her seriously. She was so beautiful,
I traced my finger down her face and...

I can't think about that anymore. It hurts the most, when I think
about the playful times. The times when we were just Chakotay and
Seska, not Captain and Engineer. They were so personal. We shared
memories, memories that we had never shared with anyone else. Well, I
did. She just spouted a load of second-hand thoughts and dreams, that
weren't even her own. I wonder if sometimes, she got so caught up in
the drama of her own supposed Bajoran life, that she forgot who she
was.

Who were you, Seska?

I heard Tom ask that exact question tonight. I don't think he ever
arrived at an answer. I wonder if he loved her, really loved her. I
wish I could find it in me to hate him, but I can't, and I won't. I
just feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for both of us. It's hard for
him to trust others, like it's hard for me. And Seska took advantage
of us. She took advantage of both of us, in the worst possible way. At
least I can talk to someone. He can't. Maybe I should...

But no. I don't think I can go and talk to him now. There's still too
much rage around the edges. I'm still angry with him. Or maybe it's
her. Maybe I'm angry with her and transferring it to him. Like I was
angry at getting caught in the Delta Quadrant. Like I was angry at
Kathryn for sending Tom into danger. Like I was angry that it was
going to be Tom that saved my life in those Ocampan tunnels.

Like I was angry that it was Tom that got caught and thrown into a
Federation penal colony. And not me. Or Dalby. Or one of the others.
That it had to be Tom.

I look at the white pinpricks of light we're racing by at warp, and I
wonder if tomorrow, we'll be racing by Seska's capsule in space. I
feel almost afraid, as if by releasing her, we're enabling her to
cause others pain, like Tom and I. It's stupid, I know. She's never
going to come back. Seska's dead. She can't cause us anymore pain.

I ignore the fact that she already has, tonight in the sickbay. Caused
more pain than I knew possible. Because she slept with someone-else,
because she slept with Tom? Seems like the least of her betrayals.

And it occurs to me, that that night, the night I will always
remember, I never answered her question.

And I don't want to.

Suddenly, I realize that I'm in my quarters, that I've walked here,
almost on auto-pilot. And I'm undressing. Everything feels like it's a
dream. I wish it were.

And as I finally drift off to sleep, something completely
insignificant occurs to me, as what often does before you go to sleep.
I couldn't remember activating the Doctor, and yet he was in his
office when I turned to leave. Just before the blessed relief of sleep
opens up to me, I wonder just how long he had been active for. Even
now, the habits of analyzing don't desert me. I have to have something
to rely on.

Then finally, I sleep, but even now, thoughts of Tom Paris don't
desert me either.

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The End