The BLTS Archive - Command Performance
by Emma Woodhouse

---

Disclaimer:  Once again, the characters belong to Paramount.  So does
the ship, equipment, goods and supplies, down to the tiniest sprout in
the Airponics Bay.  I made up a few characters, including the Avarans,
and the Late Great Miriam O'Rourke, and the plot and dialog are
certainly my own, copyright 1996 by "Emma Woodhouse".

Warning:  If it's Woodhouse, it must be slash.  One of these days,
I'll write a m/f, just to prove I can do it, but not today, boys and
girls.

Intro:  When I first began reading alt.startrek.creative, and the
archives, C/P was almost all there was in the way of Voyager slash.
Seeing a Need (and considering the concept as Cute as All Get-Out), I
began writing P/K.  While still a devotee of P/K, I felt the Call to
try C/P.  Why?  Because, like Mount Everest, it's there.  The astute
and careful reader of my Works will note that I've been tinkering with
backstory again.  Hey, this is a different timestream.

---

"I just don't get it, everything seemed to be going well."

Chakotay sighed.  He'd been trying to meditate, but it just didn't
seem to be possible, not with the younger man pacing the room like
that.  He opened his eyes.  Of all the people to be sharing a cell
with.

Paris saw that he was finally getting the Commander's attention, and
sat down on one of the wooden bunks.  They were in a stone cell, with
no amenities, no window, only a bucket of water on a rickety table and
a foul chamber pot in the corner.  "Didn't you think things were going
pretty well?"

"So it seemed," Chakotay admitted.  "But I don't really have a lot of
experience negotiating with monarchies, and I couldn't quite get a
handle on His Majesty."

"I don't think it was the majestic kid at all," Paris argued. "He was
listening and nodding, and when he learned how much duranium we were
willing to trade for a few tiny vials of that serum, he perked right
up.  No, I think it was the old guy standing behind him.  The guy in
brown with the funny hat."

"The vizier," Chakotay supplied.

"That's the one.  Everything was going fine until he started
whispering in the king's ear.  And now look at us."

"These people are fairly primitive," Chakotay told him, uncrossing his
legs and stretching.  "They think the vizier is a magician."

Paris was interested.  "And is he?"

Chakotay looked at the pilot with surprise.  "Well, how would I know?"

"Can't you ask your spirit guide or something?  Surely it would know."

Chakotay sighed.  He never could tell whether Paris was being serious
or not; it was one of the things that annoyed him most about the man.
"I don't have a direct comm link to the universe of magic, Paris,
whatever you might think."  Not many people on the ship really
understood Chakotay's spiritual life.  They all seemed to think it was
either bunkum or pure magic.

"Well, shit."  Paris fell silent and stared moodily at the floor.

Chakotay went back to his interrupted meditation.  But it was not to
be.  A few short minutes later, there was a creaking at the door, and
then the door swung open.  The two men were instantly on their feet.

Expecting the surly guard who had brought them here, they were
surprised at the tiny woman who slipped into the cell.  She put her
finger to her lips and gestured for them to follow her. Paris looked
inquiringly at the Commander, who shrugged his shoulders.  Might as
well, he indicated, and the two followed the woman out into the dim
corridor.

The woman was well dressed, in a silky gown with fur trim, and
Chakotay recognized her after a moment.  She'd been in the audience
chamber earlier, with the older woman whom he knew to be the Queen
Mother.  He wondered what was going on.

Farther down the corridor, the three passed the guard station. Two
guards were slumped in their chairs, snoring heavily.  Paris paused
for a moment and sniffed their breath.  Aha, he thought so - drugged.
This was definitely strange.

Now they were out the door, into a dark muddy alley, and their little
escort urged them into a carriage, some sort of primitive motorized
contraption, and then they were moving.

The windows were covered.  Where were they going?  The woman threw
back her hood, and looked at the two men.  She was young, and rather
pretty.  These Avarans were very human-looking humanoids, small,
darkhaired and copper-skinned, they could probably pass easily for
humans on the streets of Earth itself.

Chakotay said, "Would you mind telling us what's going on?" The woman
thought for a moment, and then said, "They were going to kill you, you
know."

"Oh?" Paris asked, "and who are they?"

"The king's men, of course.  The vizier frightened him.  He's not
really a bad boy."

"Boy?" Chakotay challenged.  "He's almost a man.  What frightened
him?"

The woman looked at him speculatively.  "Boy or man, he's still quite
superstitious.  It grieves Madam, her late husband's influence, of
course."

"Okay," Paris interrupted.  "So they were going to kill us, and I take
it that you and - Madam - aren't?  Who are you, by the way?"

"I am Lady Faliva, lady in waiting to the Queen Mother, whom you
should call Her Highness when you meet."  She frowned at Paris
reprovingly.

"Oh, I'll be sure and remember that."  Paris tried not to sound
sarcastic, and gave Faliva an ingratiating smile.  He thought, hey, if
we're dealing with the women now, things are looking up.  He felt
confident in his ability to sweet talk the ladies.

"Madam Her Highness does not believe in omens and portents, and your
tale of the sickness oppressing your ship moved her.  Your sick
Captain is a woman?"

"Yes, she is," Chakotay told her.  "Many high ranking officers in our
fleet are women."

"Very interesting."  Faliva thought for a moment and then brought out
a bottle.  She poured a liquid into two small glasses and handed them
to the two men.  They looked at her inquiringly. "You must drink it,"
she told them.

Paris looked to Chakotay for guidance.  "Bottoms up, I guess,"
Chakotay said.  He wasn't surprised when he soon became drowsy, and
saw that Paris was nodding off as well.

---

Another cell?  Chakotay sat up and looked around.  Well, it was a
better cell, anyway, with plastered walls and a window, and a privacy
niche for the sanitary facilities.

Actual mattresses on the bunks.  But what happened to his uniform?
And why was he wearing this robe thing?  He examined his new garment,
and it reminded him of a beach coverup.  A very short beach coverup.
And - oh dear, nothing else.  Chakotay belted the robe tighter,
feeling insecure.

Paris was sprawled on the other bunk, similarly attired. Chakotay
thought about shaking him awake, and then thought, oh, let him sleep.
He's less annoying when he's asleep.

Asleep, the pilot looked different.  Younger, somehow, with his hair
tousled and his defenses down.  Not so cynical and sarcastic.  But now
he was frowning, and starting to move restlessly.  He mumbled
something, and then said clearly, "No!"  He was shaking his head,
seeming to be fighting something, or denying something.  "No!  NO!"

Chakotay went quickly to his side, and grasped his shoulder. "Paris!
Wake up. You're dreaming, wake up!"

He was taken by surprise when the younger man sat up suddenly,
grabbing him by the throat.  He was looking into wide, terrified blue
eyes, and the surprisingly strong hands tightened on his windpipe, and
then Paris said, "Oh!" and let him go.

Chakotay sat back on his heels, and said, "Are you awake now?" Paris
nodded, looking embarrassed.  "Yeah.  I'm awake. Sorry."  Then he
noticed his odd attire, which had fallen open in his struggles, and
belted it back up, looking even more embarrassed.  "What the hell?"

"Don't ask me, I just woke up myself.  We seem to have been promoted
to a better class of cell, but I can't say I'm crazy about the uniform
of the day."

"Oh, Commander, it's You!" Paris said admiringly, and Chakotay knew
the lieutenant was back to his old self again.

Then the door opened, and Lady Faliva was back with them. Today she
was in some kind of muslin thing, yards and yards of it, and she
smiled at the two men.  "Good morning."

"Good morning to you," Paris said amiably, remembering his resolution
to charm their new hosts.  "How are you today?"

She smiled at him, and gestured for the servant who followed her to
put the tray he carried on the table.  "Perfectly fine," she told
them.  "And I think we are well on our way to getting you gentlemen
the serum you are seeking, and then you may return to your ship, and
tend to your ailing."

"Hey, that's great!" Paris said sincerely.  Before they had left the
ship, Harry had been diagnosed with the virus, and he had thought that
B'Elanna was looking a bit wrung out too.  "We'd really be grateful."

Faliva smiled.  It was an odd smile, seeming to hide secrets. "I hope
you enjoy your breakfast.  In a few hours, I will take you to Madam
Her Highness, who wishes to discuss the terms of your release."

As she turned to go, Chakotay stopped her.  "Uh - m'lady? What about
our uniforms?"

"All in good time," she told him with a smile, and whisked out of the
room.  Paris thought he heard a giggle as she moved down the hall.

---

The breakfast had been demolished, and the two officers had given up
on speculating on what Faliva meant about 'terms of your release', so
Paris went back to pacing, and Chakotay again tried to meditate.  And
soon guards came to fetch them, and they were taken to see Madam Her
Highness.

The Queen Mother was a handsome woman of early middle age, sumptuously
dressed, and attended by several dozen of her ladies in a bright, airy
hall.

As the men entered, she gestured regally for them to approach her.
"Welcome to my summer palace," she told them, and Chakotay thought it
was a definite improvement on the gloomy pile presided over by her
superstitious son.  Here there were large windows, stretching from low
window seats up to the high ceiling.  The commander wished they had
their uniforms back, because some of the younger women were eyeing him
and Paris with a little too personal an interest to suit him.

And now they were at the foot of the dais, where Madam Her Highness
gestured for them to sit, and stools were produced by silent servants.
The Queen Mother was dressed in muslin for the day, and her highest
ranking ladies sat around her, and a small page boy sat at her feet.

"Tell me how we can assist you," Madam commanded. Chakotay told her of
the indigenous Delta quadrant virus that was wreaking such havoc on
his crew, infecting even his Captain, and how their scout Neelix had
told them that on a planet called Avara they could find the cure for
their woes.  Paris listened silently, thinking Chakotay was doing
quite a good job, stating their case like a tribal story, a mythic
quest.  The ladies seemed to like it.

And they did.  Madam listened intently, absently stroking the hair of
her young page, and when Chakotay finished, she clapped her hands with
delight, and said, "We will help you.  You shall have your serum.  You
have only to entertain us, and then you may leave."

Faliva spoke up excitedly.  "I want the one with the strange blue
eyes!"

And another young lady said, "And I want the one with the painted
face!"

Chakotay sat up straight, appalled, but the Queen Mother clapped her
hands and frowned sternly at the younger women.  "These are aliens,
not Avarans," she told them impressively, "Do not blaspheme."

The young ladies subsided into hurt silence, and Chakotay relaxed for
a moment.  Too soon.  Because then the Queen Mother turned to them
with a smile, and said, "They will please each other for us."

Chakotay's jaw had dropped, and he didn't appear to be capable of
saying anything any time soon, so Paris cleared his throat and said,
"Uh - 'scuse me?  Your Highness?  We will what?"

"You will please each other."

"And, just how are we to do that?"

"Sexually, of course."  She seemed surprised by the question. "You
know how, surely."

"Oh, surely," Paris said faintly.  "But - uh, where?"

"Right here.  You may begin any time."  She waved her hand, signaling
for the entertainment to begin.

Paris saw that Chakotay was getting angry, he remembered that anger
from the few weeks he'd spent with the Maquis, and knew that
Chakotay's rare anger meant big trouble.  So he said hurriedly, "Uh,
Your Highness, may I have permission to - confer with my colleague for
a moment?"

A flash of irritation crossed her face, but she waved permission, and
Paris dragged Chakotay off to the corner.  Chakotay said, "Look,
Paris, if you think I'm going to take this kind of blackmail - "

Paris gave him a quick shake, he was getting angry himself. "This
seems to me to be a pretty lousy time for you to be taking a stand on
principle, Commander," he snapped.  "She's going to let us GO, unless
you make her mad and she decides to turn us back over to her son, who
wants to kill us.  Now, Doc said we've got a week to get back with
that serum, and maybe you're willing to die rather than give these
ladies a sex show, but I'm not willing for you to kill the Captain, or
Harry and B'Elanna either."

Chakotay closed his eyes for a moment.  The Captain -  He took a deep
breath.  "But, Paris," he said reluctantly, "I - wouldn't even know
where to begin!"

Paris laughed, and the sound of that derisive laugh stiffened his
spine.  "See what you've missed out on by avoiding Federation prison,
Commander?  I, on the other hand, know lots of things I never wanted
to know."

Chakotay looked at the younger man in surprise, and thought that for a
moment he saw a flash of pain in those knowing blue eyes.

"Look," Paris went on, "you want to save the Captain?"

Chakotay nodded.

"Okay.  Just follow my lead."

And Paris dragged his commander out to the middle of the room. "Right
here and now, eh?"

The Queen Mother nodded, and the small conversation groups broke up as
the ladies of the court moved their chairs to face the center of the
room.  Paris removed Chakotay's robe, and the commander was
embarrassed by the murmur of approving comment that swept the room.
Then Paris removed his own robe, to another round of comment.
Chakotay supposed that to these tiny people, they would both look
quite imposing.

He spoke through gritted teeth.  "Paris, I really don't think I can do
this.  Physically, I mean.  Not with all these people - "

Paris gave him a look of sympathetic understanding, and ran his
fingers lightly over Chakotay's chest.  "Oh, yes, you can.  You may
think you can't, but you won't be able to help it."  And then the
young man knelt quickly in front of his commander and began to lick
his thighs.

Chakotay tried not to look at the women watching with avid interest,
tried to stare off into space, tried not to think about anything.  And
especially tried to pretend it was anyone but Paris kneeling in front
of him.

As Paris slowly bathed Chakotay's balls with his tongue, the Commander
began to get an erection.  Now he knew what Paris meant, he really
wasn't able to help it.  Paris was running his tongue up and down the
erect penis now, and Chakotay saw that Faliva was leaning forward,
licking her lips, intently watching the show.  He closed his eyes,
devoutly wishing the floor would open up and swallow them.  Wasn't
Paris dying of embarrassment, too?

"Paris," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"How can you stand it?"

Paris sat back on his heels, looking up at Chakotay.  "Just don't
think about it," he said softly, so that only the commander could hear
him.  As he spoke, he continued to fondle Chakotay's genitals, and his
touch was undeniably exciting.  "Look, just close your eyes and
pretend I'm someone else.  I could make some impertinent suggestions,
but I'll leave the exact identity up to you."

"You seem pretty cool about it all," Chakotay said with a touch of
resentment.

"Hey, you're in luck today, Commander," Paris said, and there was a
world of bitterness in his voice.  "You just happened to get an away
team assignment with the only whore on Voyager.  So you're in good
hands.  Just 'close your eyes and think of England'."  And he bowed
his head and sucked Chakotay's penis into his mouth.

Chakotay let out a strangled cry, and closing his eyes couldn't block
out the appreciative murmur that ran around the room.  Pretend it's
someone else, he told himself, and began pretending fiercely,
something about a temperate planet and a Star Fleet emergency shelter.

To keep from falling, he leaned over and gripped the shoulders in
front of him, and it was difficult to integrate those hard muscles
into his fantasy, but he wasn't thinking about much of anything right
now.  The warm, wet mouth was moving faster now, along his entire
length, and he was so close, he was almost there-

And suddenly the mouth was removed.  He gave a gasp of disappointment,
and looked down.  Paris had pressed his cheek against his thighs, and
was caressing the commander's hips and ass. In an undertone, the
lieutenant said, "The ladies want a show, Commander, don't come too
fast."  Chakotay wanted to shout with frustration, and then he jumped
in surprise, as he felt a finger slide into his anus.

"Paris!" he hissed.

"Get used to it," Paris said indifferently, "because that's where
we're going next."

"If you think for one minute - "

"Serum, virus, Janeway, Torres, Kim ..."  Paris recited softly.  And
then he was licked Chakotay's erection again, and the commander was
incapable of responding.

Chakotay seized that golden head in both hands, he was going to finish
this right now, and Paris seemed to have the same idea, he was sucking
now, sucking hard.  And then Chakotay felt the great surge of release
starting, and he began to spurt into the young man's mouth.

Paris broke his hold with one efficient movement, standing suddenly
and taking firm hold on Chakotay's penis, directing the ejaculation
onto his own genitals.  He pulled the commander against his chest,
pressing his now erect penis against Chakotay's, and held his senior
until his convulsions subsided.  Then he reached between them and
smeared his penis thoroughly with semen.

"What the hell?" Chakotay said.

Paris spoke into his ear.  "You'll be glad I thought of lubrication
once I start fucking you in the ass."

The whole thing had a bizarre air of unreality about it, Chakotay
thought.  Surely it wasn't true that he was standing naked in front of
an audience of enthusiastic women, arguing with Paris about whether or
not Paris was going to fuck him in the ass!

Paris had his arms around the commander, stroking his back and ass
sensuously, as they conversed in heated whispers.

"Surely we've given them enough 'entertainment' for one day," Chakotay
insisted.

"I don't think so," Paris murmured into his ear.  "Look at them.  They
don't think we're finished yet."

And Chakotay looked at the Queen Mother's court, and had to admit that
they did seem to be waiting patiently for act two.  Lady Faliva was
staring at them intently, with her hand between her legs, and her
fingers moving busily.  And several other women also seemed to find
something of great interest under their skirts. Chakotay sighed.  "I
suppose you've got a point."

"Look," Paris went on, "the Queen Mother said we were to please each
other.  Now, if you don't want me to fuck you, you'd better start
sucking."

"Dammit, Paris, I told you - "

"Right.  You haven't a clue."  Chakotay thought he heard something
almost like contempt in the pilot's voice.  "When we get back to the
ship, Commander, you might want to take up genealogy, because I swear
you've got a Puritan in your family tree somewhere!"

"All right, already!  What am I supposed to do?"

"That's the spirit!  Just get on your hands and knees and leave it to
me."  But when Chakotay started to pull away, Paris pulled him back to
his chest and fastened his lips onto his commander's mouth.  Chakotay
tried to protest, but couldn't say much with that tongue in his mouth.
The kiss seemed to go on and on, and there was a hubbub of approving
comment, as Chakotay thought to himself that he'd never in his life
been kissed like this.

Finally Paris released him, and both men were panting now. "Go on,"
Paris gasped.  "I'll make this as painless as possible." Chakotay got
down on his hands and knees, thinking to himself, there was no way he
was going to be able to pretend that this was the someone else he'd
been picturing earlier.  Oh well, he thought, let's get this over
with.

He sensed Paris on his knees behind him, and didn't know what to
expect, but certainly didn't expect the soft caresses he was receiving
on his ass and thighs.  A finger was circling his anus, an odd
sensation, causing a flutter in the pit of his stomach, and he was
being stroked gently, as the finger occasionally slipped in and out of
his tight hole.

Chakotay didn't want to admit, even to himself, that this felt good,
so he whispered, "Why don't you just get it over with?"

"Because if I just pushed right in, it would hurt like hell," Paris
answered irritably.  "And I'm speaking from experience, so stop
second-guessing me.  Try to relax."

Try to relax.  Right.  Chakotay tried to disassociate himself from his
surroundings and circumstances, but couldn't help fixating on all the
things he disliked about Paris, his attitude, his smart mouth, his
dissembling with the Captain on that spy thing.  He'd never liked
Paris, not from the first moment they met.  But then he realized what
Paris had just said, about speaking from experience, and thought that
however much he disliked the man, he certainly wouldn't have wished
that on anyone.

And he had to admit, the guy seemed to know what he was doing.

Paris was thinking resentfully, of course, I have to do all the work.
So he can tell himself that he didn't do anything, he just took it,
and didn't like it, oh no, he didn't like a bit of it.  For a moment,
he was tempted to stop being careful, to just slam into his
disapproving elder and give him a taste of prison life.  But then he
had a better idea, and reached between Chakotay's legs and began
caressing his penis with one hand, while he continued his careful
stretching of the tight entry with the other.  A much better idea.
Make the bastard enjoy it.

Chakotay gasped.  He couldn't believe he was getting another erection,
so soon after that massive orgasm.  The experienced fingers were
dancing lightly on his penis, up and down so deliciously.  And further
back, he felt more fingers inside his anus, stretching gently and then
retreating, returning again and again.  A strange feeling, something
he'd never felt before, almost but not quite painful.  But somehow
undeniably exciting.

Paris felt Chakotay shiver, and thought spitefully, good! This will
give you something to discuss with your damn spirit guide!  And he
began to push his shaft slowly into the commander's flesh.  Slowly
advancing and retreating, over and over, until he was all the way in.
Then he paused for a moment.  He ran his hands over Chakotay's
shoulders, back and hips, sensual stroking, and almost laughed to hear
the commander's soft moan.

Oh, no, you don't like this a bit, do you?  SIR?  He looked up
momentarily and caught sight of their appreciative, fascinated
audience, and bit his lip to keep from grinning at them.  Well, he
always liked exciting the ladies, and he had to say that these ladies
were certainly excited.

And then Paris thought, Jesus, what's the matter with me?  Was he
actually enjoying tormenting the man?  Was he no better than they
were?  He was remembering now, that horrible first time in the
exercise yard, and the scalding humiliation of being used in front of
witnesses, back before it became so routine he just didn't care
anymore, out of sheer self-preservation.

For the first time, he felt a sense of fellow-feeling for the
commander.  After today, he would be the only man on the ship with a
sense of what Paris had gone through, and wasn't it crazy that it
would be Chakotay, of all people?  Paris leaned forward, and kissed
the commander on the back, whispering, "Hang in there, Commander,
we'll get through this," and reached around to take Chakotay's
erection in his hand.  Maybe if he got him really turned on, he'd tune
out the surroundings.

Chakotay was dizzy with desire now, wondering if he was going to come
or pass out, as Paris masturbated him roughly while pumping into him
from behind.  He could hardly breathe, he was more aroused than he'd
ever been in his life, he'd lost all connection to anything but the
touch, the touch, that wonderful touch.

But then he looked up, at the court ladies on the dais, and almost
choked.  The Queen Mother's skirts were raised now, and her little
page boy was kneeling between her knees, with his face buried between
her thighs.

For a moment, Chakotay was sure he was going to vomit.

Paris was leaning over his commander with his eyes closed, gasping as
he explored that deliciously tight channel, and oh god, this felt
good, it was the best, oh, it was perfect!

He tightened his grip on Chakotay's erection, and heard his loud
groan, and thought joyfully, he likes it, I'm pleasing him! He was
thrusting faster now, almost there, oh, this was so beautiful.

Chakotay had swallowed his bile and for the moment all thought of the
little boy was lost, as he felt the tighter grip, the faster movement,
the pressure and the pleasure and the thundering beat, and then he was
crying out, crying aloud as he began to jerk and spurt in Paris' hand,
and he heard a triumphant scream behind him as Paris began shooting
into his body.

Paris threw his arms around the older man and held on tightly, and
finally they were both spent.  They held their positions for a few
moments, panting, and then Paris raised Chakotay up and spun him
around.  "I knew you could do it," he whispered, pulling him close and
kissing him roughly.

For a moment, Chakotay thought he saw affectionate approval in the
young man's eyes, but then they were too close for anything else to
register but the kisses, and they just couldn't seem to stop.

It was as if they were magnetized, Paris thought, as soon as his lips
got about an inch from the commander's, they just had to return, and
he kissed Chakotay again and again, long and short, hard and soft, and
damned if Chakotay wasn't kissing him back. They leaned against one
another, holding each other up, on their knees in the crowded room,
kissing and kissing, like they were never going to stop.

And then they heard the strange thundering sound, and looked up, and
all the ladies were stamping their feet in Avaran applause. Paris
grinned at Chakotay, and whispered, "Aaaand, cut!  Run down the
curtain, hopefully, and exeunt omnes."

"What?" Chakotay whispered back.

"I mean I think we're through."

Paris picked up their robes, handed one to Chakotay, and the two men
stood up, the pilot delivering a flamboyant bow to the audience before
shrugging back into his robe.  And Chakotay thought with real
amusement, if gall were latinum, this guy would be a billionaire!

The Queen Mother gestured them to approach, smiling.  "Lady Faliva
will see to your belongings, and the serum will be delivered to you
shortly.  Thank you, gentlemen, for a most interesting afternoon."

Paris interrupted before Chakotay could say anything, a few effusive
words of thanks for the Queen Mother's assistance to unfortunate
travellers, and then Lady Faliva took them back to their cell.

Their uniforms were already there, along with their comm badges and
tricorders, last seen in the king's gloomy castle. Faliva had the
servants bring hot water, so that the guests might clean themselves,
and then she departed, returning a few moments later.  With her was
the pretty little page boy, carrying three large vials of liquid, and
Paris immediately seized one and ran a tricorder over it.  "This is
the goods, all right," he told Chakotay with satisfaction.

But Chakotay was looking at the little boy, thinking that if he were
human he wouldn't be a day over seven.  Faliva said, "I'll leave you
gentlemen to clean up, we'll be leaving shortly."

Chakotay was pressing his lips tightly together, praying not to
disgrace himself, and was glad that Faliva and the boy were well down
the hall before he dashed to the toilet and threw up.

Paris was feeling proud of himself, and turned to Chakotay, saying,
"Hey, mission accomplished - " and then saw the commander leaning over
the toilet, and his good mood vanished.

He told himself that his feelings were NOT hurt, no, he was insulted.
Hell, he'd fucked plenty of people in his life, and none of them had
felt the need to puke afterwards.

Chakotay was wondering what kind of viper's nest they'd stumbled into
that they would allow their children to be abused like that, when he
felt Paris leaning over him, and heard a light, contemptuous voice.
"Next time you're talking to the spirits of your ancestors, ask them
to bless the Caretaker."

"Huh?"

"You wouldn't have lasted a week in prison.  Shit, you only had to
take one man, and I didn't even draw blood.  Count your blessings,
Commander."

Chakotay felt too tired and confused to even want to try to argue or
explain.  "Right," he said wearily, and the two men washed and got
dressed with no further conversation.

---

At Chakotay's request, the Queen Mother's carriage took them out of
the capitol, and left them on a deserted stretch of road. Once the
carriage had moved away, he activated his comm badge and energized the
shuttle's transporters, and now they were back in the shuttle they had
hidden in the woods.

"Let's get out of here," Chakotay said, and Paris immediately powered
up and they were on their way.

Chakotay sat down in the co-pilot's chair, and felt the silence
stretch out uncomfortably.  Finally, he said, "I'm sure not looking
forward to making the log entries for this mission."

Paris shrugged.  "Hey, you're the away team commander.  I won't tell
if you won't."  They were out of the gravity well now, and Paris set
course for Voyager.

Was Paris suggesting that the First Officer submit an incomplete
report?  Chakotay said, "Hey, maybe you don't have any problem
falsifying reports - ", and then saw the pilot's knuckles go white as
he gripped the edge of the console, and thought, whoops, open mouth,
insert foot.

Chakotay was about to apologize, to say he didn't quite mean it that
way, but before he could say anything, Paris said lightly, "Jeez,
Commander, you're more Star Fleet than Star Fleet!  How could you
stand to leave?"

And Chakotay had to stand up and blunder to the back of the shuttle,
to keep from smashing his fist right into that mocking mouth.

'How could I stand to leave?' he asked himself, pacing a tight circle
in the rear of the shuttle.  God, it had been like an amputation, he'd
worked so hard, all his life, he was up for command, and then the damn
treaty was published, and there was his home, his HOME!, in Cardassian
territory, and what choice did he have?

And what would a guy like Paris know about hard work anyway, guys like
him never had to do a day's work in their lives.  He'd seen enough
like him in Star Fleet, skating through life on charm, looks, and
family connections.  And Paris was worse than most, pissing away a
career because he just didn't care.  What would he know about the
agony of that decision?

Paris was making sensor log entries, thinking to himself, the goddamn
prig!  Carrying on like it was some kind of friggin' Fate Worse Than
Death!  He shouldn't have been so careful not to hurt him, Chakotay
probably wanted it to hurt, then he could tell himself that Paris
couldn't do anything right.  Well, fuck him. Though, come to think of
it, he already had.

And quite nicely, too, and you'd think a guy would be grateful, but
oh, no, there he was acting like he'd just had to accommodate the whole
Cleveland gang.  But what would Chakotay know about stuff like that?
No, he'd never get his hands dirty, he'd sure never get his ass dirty,
and he'd never had to make nice to some horrible old man just to buy a
little protection.

---

Chakotay sat down crosslegged on the floor, and tried to meditate,
tried to find his animal guide.  But his mood would not allow it, all
he saw was a grey muzzle poking out through the leaves, and then she
ran away, deep into the forest, whining in fear.

He sighed and opened his eyes.  The shuttle was crowded, full of all
the duranium they had planned to trade for the serum, and he supposed
B'Elanna would be glad to have it back.  Though he wasn't quite sure
what to tell her about what they HAD traded for the serum.  Oh, hell.

He walked up to the front of the shuttle, running his hand lightly
over the containers of duranium, and Paris watched him with an
unfathomable look on his face.  Chakotay sat down again in the
co-pilot's seat, and Paris said, "I know.  Welcome to the secret
fraternity of whores."

Chakotay looked at him sharply, but there was no sarcasm in the
pilot's voice.  He sounded so - matter of fact.

But then they heard a beeping sound, and Paris turned eagerly to the
communicator.  "Paris to Voyager."

"Voyager here."  It was Tuvok's voice.  And even through the vacuum of
space, Chakotay thought the Vulcan sounded dead weary. Things must be
pretty bad.

The First Officer leaned forward eagerly.  "We've got the serum,
Tuvok, how are things there?"  He grinned at Paris; they had done it,
after all.

"No fatalities yet, Commander, but the crew is down to sixteen
unaffected individuals.  It has been - difficult.  We will be
gratified to see you."

"We'll be there in an hour.  Chakotay out."

And Paris said exuberantly, "Ta-taa!"

An hour later, Paris keyed the communicator again.  "Open up the
shuttlebay, because this dogsled is pulling into Nome!"

The two men exited the shuttlecraft, to eerie silence.  "We're on our
way to Sickbay, Tuvok," Chakotay said.

And over the communicator, Tuvok said with heartfelt sincerity,
"Welcome home, gentlemen."

---

They heard the murmur before they got to Sickbay, and rounding the
corner, they saw the stretchers lining the hall.  Nicoletti and Chell
appeared to be the stretcher bearers.  "Cargo Bay Two is the main
ward," the lieutenant told them.  "After the Doctor assesses them,
we'll take them over there."

In silence, Chakotay and Paris entered Sickbay.  The Doctor was moving
as briskly as ever, but Kes looked ready to drop. "Well, THERE you
are!" the Doctor said.  "What took you so long?" He took two of the
vials from Paris, and said, "Get that one to the pharmaceutics
replicator," and Paris said smartly, "Oh, yes SIR!"

Chakotay went over to biobed two to see the Captain.  She'd lost
weight, just in the few days they had been gone.  Her eyes were
closed, and she was very pale.  He took her hand, and said softly,
"Captain?"

The Doctor bustled up. "She's not conscious, Commander.  Now, get out
from underfoot, please.  Mister Tuvok will be glad of some assistance
on the bridge, I'm sure.  But you won't need a pilot, we won't be
leaving orbit until we have more of the crew functional, so I'm
commandeering Mister Paris."

"Okay," Chakotay said absently.  The Doctor sounded like he thought he
was in command of the ship, and since virtually the whole ship was a
hospital at the moment, perhaps he was.

He went over to the pharm-replicator, where Paris was biting his lip
with concentration, adjusting the settings.

"How long will that take?" Chakotay asked.

Paris looked up.  "Quite a while.  The replication has to be exact to
the subatomic level.  Doc's starting the worse cases on the other
vials, and in a few hours we'll be ready to go with this."

"Good.  You're assigned to Medical till we're over the worst of this."
The pilot nodded; he'd had enough medical training to make himself
useful.

Chakotay turned to go, but then turned back. "Oh, and Paris?" Paris
looked up, and his defensive wariness made the commander feel
obscurely guilty.  "Good work."

And the First Officer went off to take command of the stricken ship,
carrying with him the memory of the astonishment in those crystal blue
eyes.

---

Paris sagged, wondering why there were two B'Elannas in the bed, when
he felt a hand under his arm.  "Sir?  You've got to get some sleep."
He turned, and there was Crewman Geron, tugging him over to a cot in
the corner.

How long had he been working in the cargo bay?  Paris couldn't
remember.  Most of the crew were lined up in here, with some in
Holodeck Two, and a few in Sickbay.  There wasn't enough modern
medical equipment to go around, so they were back to Florence
Nightingale era technology, Paris thought, confusing his eras
slightly.  IVs and bed pans.  Before today, or yesterday, he supposed,
he didn't even know what a bed pan was.  Now if he never saw another
of the filthy things, it would be too soon.

Geron was pushing him down.  "Get some sleep, Lieutenant," the teenage
Bajoran said, emboldened by his new position as chief orderly of Cargo
Bay Two.  "And that's an order."

Geron wasn't particularly disturbed by any of this.  After the refugee
camps, it would take a lot to bother him.  And he wasn't going to let
the ship's pilot work himself into the grave. Paris subsided onto the
cot, already half asleep.  God, they had almost lost B'Elanna, she'd
almost left them.  He didn't like it when people left, it wasn't
right, wasn't fair.


...The beautiful woman sitting on Tommy's bed wasn't talking to him.
She was talking to his teddy bear.  She often did that when she had
something difficult or unpleasant to say, when she couldn't look Tommy
in the eye.

"It's not that I don't want to take Tommy with me," she was telling
Edward Bear, who listened impassively.  "But I can't.  He'd never let
me go if I took his son, don't you see?  He'd follow us to the end of
the galaxy."

Edward Bear said nothing.  Neither did Tommy.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, truly I am."  She bowed her head, and the
long golden hair trailed across the stuffed toy in her lap. "Maybe if
you explain it to him when he's a little older, he'll understand then.
Oh, Mister Bear, I'm sorry to be so weak.  But I have to save myself."

The beautiful woman stood up then, and tucked the bear under the
covers.  She still didn't talk to Tommy, didn't look him in the eye.

He never saw her again.  She had never even kissed him goodbye...


Chakotay had taken a brief nap in the ready room, some time ago.  It
was enough to go on.  Tuvok had the bridge now, and the First Officer
was touring the ship, the weird, silent, echoing ship.  He had stopped
in the mess hall and got a mug of coffee, and sipped it as he walked,
finding it almost palatable.

Neelix had remained at his post, cooking for the diminished crew.  He
had been surprised at the crew's reaction to a simple little thing
like Waasi, he'd caught it when everyone else did, and his nose felt
stuffy for a few days, but that was all.

Chakotay wasn't surprised.  Too many of his ancestors had been killed
by a simple case of measles for him to be surprised at what a disease
could do to those who didn't have the inborn antibodies.

The serum was working.  He was so relieved.  He had wondered, for a
few awful hours, if the traditional Delta quadrant cure would work on
Alpha quadrant humanoids.  But it did.

In Sickbay, he actually spoke a few words to the Captain, before the
Doctor hustled him away, demanding rest for his patients.  Kes had
finally collapsed, and was sleeping on a blanket in the corner.

And in the cargo bay, Paris was asleep on a cot by the door. Crewman
Geron tried to snap to attention, but Chakotay waved him back to ease.

He walked along the rows of cots, thinking it was the first time in
months he'd seen so many of the crew in the same place at one time.
Rank hath its privileges, but not here.  The patients were lined up in
order of appearance, just as they had been brought in when finally
felled by the disease.

Chakotay scanned the rows, feeling a momentary amazement that they had
experienced no fatalities.  Everyone was going to pull through.  He
thought back to the Queen Mother's Summer Palace, and for the first
time felt a twinge of pride.  He had saved all these people.  He and
Paris.

As he turned to go, his eyes fell on Paris, asleep beside the door.
Paris moved restlessly, murmured, "Mama - ?"  Lord, Chakotay thought,
how old is the guy?  What, almost thirty, and crying for his mama?

But then he felt a cold chill - he'd been in so many battles since he
joined the Maquis, so many well-nigh hopeless battles where you had to
take casualties because you didn't have the equipment and all you had
was 'cannon fodder'.  Chakotay knew, better than any Star Fleet
officer, how many men died calling for their mothers, and he turned to
Geron with sudden concern.

"Has Lieutenant Paris caught the virus?"

Geron was surprised.  "Oh, no, Commander.  All of us still standing
were immunized first thing once you got that serum.  No, he's just
wiped out.  Why?"

"Just thought he looked a little pale."

Geron grinned at him.  "Well, shit, sir, I mean, begging your pardon,
but so do you.  Hell, I saw Tuvok in the mess hall, and HE looks a
little pale!"

Chakotay chuckled.  "I suppose you're right.  Well, the worst is
behind us, crewman."

"Yes, SIR!"  Geron was glad to hear it.  If Chakotay said the worst
was over, it must be so.


And the First Officer was right.  Within a few days, some of the less
affected of the crew were back to working half shifts, and one of
these days they'd be able to leave orbit and get back on their way.

The Captain was improving, had relocated to her quarters, and was
starting to make restless noises about returning to duty.  So far, the
Doctor's dire threats had kept her off the bridge, but any day now -

Chakotay sat in the mess hall, staring blankly at the PADD. He still
hadn't completed the away team report, still hadn't quite figured out
how to word it, and kept remembering Paris saying, "I won't tell if
you won't."

It was tempting, really tempting, to just leave that part out.

Paris was leaving, and detoured over to the commander, and Chakotay
thought, 'Uh-oh'.  Because once Paris had recovered from his
exhaustion, he was back to his old self, only more so, more
aggravating than ever.

"Still puzzling over the log?"  Paris asked.

Chakotay nodded, expressionless.

Paris smiled at him.  "Don't forget to put in there how good I was,"
he said, in a softly venomous voice, "and how much you liked it."

And he left, not waiting for a reply.

What's with this guy?  Does he want to get pounded into the ground?
Because that was sure Chakotay's instinct these days, to just deck the
guy, knock him to the ground, rip off his clothes -

Whoa.  Back up a minute.  Rip off - ?  Oh, hell!

---

The next morning, Chakotay escorted the Captain to the mess hall.  She
walked slowly, still looked quite pale and thin, but her eyes were
sparkling, glad to be upright and moving again.

Chakotay had solved the log issue by turning in an incomplete report,
and telling the Captain the report was incomplete.  The narrative took
the away team to the King's prison, and their rescue by the Queen
Mother's party, noting that the Queen Mother had supplied the needed
serum.  His report ended, "Further information available upon request.
However, Captain, it is my strong desire and recommendation that you
do not request any further details."

Captain Janeway was puzzled and intrigued.  She was so tempted to ask,
but this was the first time her First Officer had ever asked her NOT
to ask about anything, so perhaps she should respect that.  It must be
something quite personal.  The Captain wondered, though, what this
Queen Mother looked like.

In the mess hall, Neelix was dishing up scrambled eggs, and Torres and
Kim were also ambulatory, being mother-henned by Lieutenant Paris.
"Every bite!  I want those plates clean!" he told the two
convalescents.  "I've been working for days to convince Neelix to
leave the leola root out of the recipe, and we have to encourage him."

And the two officers agreed that Neelix should be encouraged to eschew
leola root.

---

Two days later, Chakotay finally had some time to himself. Maybe one
of the holodecks would be free.  Holodeck two was in use and locked,
but holodeck one was open.  Chakotay entered. There was a program
running.  It was one of the park settings, with trees and grass, birds
chirping, and a stream glinting in the distance.  Well, if someone was
already using the holodeck - Chakotay started to turn to leave.

But then someone came around the bend of the dirt path.  It was Paris.
Wearing only shorts and sandals, the young man shone like gold in the
artificial sun.

"Sorry," Chakotay said shortly.  "I thought the holodeck was free."

"Oh, it is," Paris said.  "Doesn't cost a thing.  Are you sure you
weren't looking for me, Commander?"  He gave Chakotay a sidelong look,
deliberately provocative.

That did it.  Chakotay finally snapped.  He grabbed the smart ass by
the arm and slammed him against a tree.  He meant to punch him -
didn't he? -

- but somehow wound up kissing him instead.

Well, this is one way to get the guy to shut up, Chakotay thought,
kissing Paris bruisingly hard, and again, and again.  He held the
golden head in both hands, pressing his body up against the pilot,
pinning him to the tree, and his lips forced open that aggravating
mouth, and captured the silky tongue.

Paris was moving, seemed to be struggling, but was making no real
effort to get away.  His hands were on the commander's ass, pressing
it closer to him, feeling that powerful erection, rubbing against it.

They were on the ground now, and Chakotay held Paris beneath him, as
if he were trying to escape, and Paris was writhing purposefully, and
both men were gasping.  Paris slid a hand between them, between the
commander's legs, and grasped tightly, thrillingly, and finally
Chakotay realized what was going on, and wrenched his mouth from those
delicious lips, staring into that beautiful, irritating face.

Paris was smiling dreamily, not a mocking smile, but his hand was
working its will on his senior, there was no stopping it now, and
Chakotay gasped, "Oh, dammit, you SLUT!"  And he couldn't hold back
the powerful orgasm taking possession of his body.

He rolled off the younger man, thinking, wondering, what's gotten into
me, and looked at his uniform with dismay.  He certainly had no
intention of walking down the hall with that great big stain on the
front of his jumpsuit, so he called, "Computer, arch," and the
holodeck arch appeared.

Not looking at Paris, Chakotay stood and walked to the arch, calling
for a replicator, and requesting a new uniform.  The holodeck's
replicator was now revealed on the wall, and it shimmered briefly
before a fresh uniform appeared.

Chakotay wearily removed his stained garments, but as he reached for
the new clothes, two arms came around him from behind, and lips
caressed the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry," Paris said softly.  "Don't be mad at me."

Chakotay froze.  "I'm not mad at you," he said, though of course he
was, "it's just - I don't understand you, what do you want?"

The lips moved over his shoulders, while the hands stroked his chest
and abdomen.  "What do I want?  I could show you - "

As if hypnotized, Chakotay turned, and Paris gently stroked his face.
"Computer, privacy lock," Paris said, and took the commander's hand
and led him into the woods.

Near the stream, he pushed Chakotay down onto the grass, and slipped
out of his shorts and lay down beside him.  Slowly now, their lips
met, and then their arms came around each other. Chakotay caressed the
young man, thinking how beautiful he was, how gentle he was being, and
still, what's going on?  He kissed Paris on the ear, and then
whispered, "Why are we doing this?"

And Paris whispered back, "Why not?"

It made sense at the time.

Paris was drowning in those huge dark eyes, thinking, he must like me,
a little bit, or he wouldn't want me.  Surely he wouldn't. He kissed
the commander gently, enjoying touching him, especially enjoying
pleasing him.  Chakotay was already getting hard again, which made
Paris feel very talented.

Chakotay had given up.  He'd gone crazy, that's all, and might as well
enjoy it.  He stroked Paris' erection, remembered the Summer Palace,
and said softly, "Tom?  Would you do that to me again?"

Paris was thrilled, thinking, he called me Tom!  He likes me! He
laughed, and said, "All you had to do was ask,"  reaching around to
stroke Chakotay's ass.

And now Chakotay was on his hands and knees, being entered from
behind, thinking - out of my mind.  But that's where he wanted to be.
Out of control and in total surrender to physical sensation.
Somewhere he'd never been before.

The pressure and the fullness, so unfamiliar, and the shivering with
desire as he felt the younger man advance and retreat, and now the
talented, experienced hand had claimed his erection, and he hissed
with pleasure at the touch.

The two men came powerfully together on the artificial turf, and
Chakotay lay peacefully on the ground, with Paris lying panting on his
back.

Paris kissed him gently on the back of the neck, and then retreated
silently, and Chakotay was alone.  Wondering what in the galaxy he'd
gotten himself into.

Eventually, he got to his feet, and went to look for his newly
replicated uniform.


Paris hurried down the corridor, heading for his quarters, glad he'd
gotten away before the next part, when lovers lie in one another's
arms and nestle and murmur - murmur words, words that express
thoughts, thoughts that he didn't want to hear.  Because he knew from
bitter experience that it was possible to want without liking, and if
he heard it, then he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.

---

It was an uneventful day on the bridge, and Chakotay was trying,
trying hard, not to stare at the back of the pilot's head, knowing now
the silken softness of the skin below the ear, and how it felt against
his lips.

Once, when Captain Janeway went down to the Conn to discuss some
sensor readings, her hand rested briefly on the red-clad shoulder, and
Chakotay remembered the feel of those hard shoulders, and wanted to
scream with jealousy.

Still crazy, apparently.

He thought to himself, middle-aged fool, and suddenly realized what
his Academy roommate had been talking about.

Orvis Petrie had been a wild one.  Chakotay never understood how the
man managed to graduate, since he never seemed to study. And he always
seemed to be creeping past the sensors to spend most of the night
somewhere else.  It didn't matter much to Chakotay, wasn't his
business.

But once, he'd said something to Orvis about the possibility of being
caught, and Orvis had clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "It's all
part of my plan, Chak.  Get the nonsense out of the old system.
Because young fools get forgiven.  You mark my words, Chak, young
fools and old fools, people forgive them.  But the middle-aged fools
never get forgiven."

Chakotay had just snorted at this advice.  He just wasn't going to be
a fool, it was as simple as that.  He had a plan and he was sticking
to it, and he wasn't going to let any irrational cravings get in the
way.

As for Orvis, he'd had a brief yet spectacularly eventful career in
Star Fleet, finally becoming involved in a highly public affair with
his Captain's wife, and leaving Star Fleet to start a successful
career as a novelist.

And here was Chakotay, who had subordinated his passions all his life,
first to his Star Fleet career, then to the Maquis cause, and he
couldn't stop thinking about the beautiful, carnal and willful young
man who seemed to want to play some sort of strange game with him.

---

Chakotay sat crosslegged in his quarters, trying to empty his mind of
the nonsense that had possessed it lately, trying to coax out his
spirit guide.

But he felt only the empty whisper of the wind, and it told him
nothing.

Chakotay thought back.  To others he had wanted.  His wife, who had
said he hadn't wanted her enough.  Not as much as he wanted a ship to
command.  She was tired, she told him, of waiting to start a family,
to take a vacation, to have his undivided attention.  She thought she
should do some other things.  And she was gone.

Lt. Sarah Feeny, when he was First Officer on the Hector.  He thought
about her too much, and knew it would be a clear case of
fraternization, and he was still married then.  Chakotay knew what
"personal entanglements" could do to a career, and carefully
researched, and managed to wangle himself a lateral transfer, out of
harm's way.

The Captain.  He'd called her Kathryn on New Earth, and for once in
his life he'd been willing to give up the planning, to live for the
moment, to surrender to feelings.  But she was too much like him, and
this time she was the one with the plan, the one subordinating desire
to duty, and he'd told himself to be patient, to let her take her own
time.  And now here they were back on Voyager, and what had he gotten
from that experience?  Only a painful knowledge, finally, of what his
wife had been feeling.

And Seska.  Seska, who came the closest to coming too close. He was a
Maquis then, a reckless thing to be, and he was feeling reckless when
he bedded his friend and fellow rebel.  But she seemed to want more
from him, much more than simple friendship, or even the love he was
willing to give her.  It disturbed him, even then, that she seemed to
want possession of his entire mind - of course, now he understood why.

But even back then, not knowing that she was a plant and a spy, her
possessiveness had alarmed him, and he had told her firmly that it
wouldn't work, and had reestablished a non-sexual, friendly
relationship.

It had seemed easy, all his life, to concentrate on his goals. Why was
it so hard all of a sudden?

Chakotay tried to find answers in studying his role models. Men who,
like him, had to choose to leave a cherished mother country to defend
their homes.  But as he read the lives and letters of Washington and
Lee, he thought with frustration that the men seemed to have no
libidos whatsoever.  Of course, until recently, he'd thought the same
of himself, and was relieved to have such control.  Then too, those
were more reticent times, and perhaps those men too had wrestled with
inconvenient desires.  Kind of hard to imagine, but perhaps.

"Computer, locate Lt. Paris."

"Lt. Paris is on deck four, compartment D-42."

So Paris was in his quarters.  Go and talk to him.  Try to figure out
what his game is, what he wants.

Chakotay exited the turbolift, and approached the door to Paris'
quarters, wondering what exactly he wanted - a calm and clear
discussion or a wild and confusing physical encounter.

He buzzed at the door and was invited to enter.

As the door opened, he was surrounded by music.  The lights were dim,
and Paris was lying on the sofa, hands laced behind his head, feet
crossed at the ankles.  And the music - Chakotay smiled, recognizing
it immediately, the soaring silver tones of the late, great Miriam
O'Rourke, once heard, never forgotten.

But why was Paris looking so sad?  When la O'Rourke was singing
joyfully that tra-la it was May, the lusty month of May, in her
signature role of Guenevere, and one of Chakotay's favorites.

Paris saw who had entered, and said hastily, "Commander! Computer,
music off."  And the incomparable voice was abruptly silenced.

Paris swung his legs off the sofa and sat up, as Chakotay said, "Hey,
you didn't have to turn off the music, I've always been a big
O'Rourkite."

The response was a toneless, "Oh, really?" and the face a featureless
mask.

Chakotay said with an awkward attempt at levity, "Hey, you don't have
to be such a mysterious bastard, do you?"

He never saw the fist coming.  That must have been how Paris was able
to deck him, and knock him out so cleanly.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back on the floor, and
Captain Janeway was bending over him.

"Captain?"

Janeway sighed, and settled back on her heels.  "You want to tell me
why my Conning Officer just turned himself in to the brig and called
me to tell me you needed medical assistance in his quarters?"

---

Captain Janeway was running a medical scanner over the First Officer,
and as he tried to sit up, she firmly pushed him back down.  "Doctor?"
she said, over her shoulder.

Chakotay saw now that the Doctor was also with them, on the computer
viewscreen.

"According to these readings, there is no concussion," the Doctor
said.  "He should have no more than a nasty headache."

"Thank you, Doctor," the Captain said.  "Now, if you'll excuse us?"

"Of course."  And the screen went blank.

Chakotay sat up and Janeway helped him to a chair.  He felt his head
queasily - that guy could really pack a punch!  He looked up to see
the Captain watching him.  "I'm waiting," she said.

Chakotay sighed.  "Captain, I wish I knew!  The guy just blew up - it
came out of nowhere.  I had just told him to stop being such a
mysterious bastard - "  He broke off, seeing her eyes widen. "Oh, come
on, Captain, don't tell me that PARIS would get fighting mad over a
mild vulgarity!"

There was a thoughtful silence, and then Janeway said, "I suppose it
would depend on the vulgarity."

"What?" Janeway stood and went to the replicator, getting two coffees
on her account.  She handed one to Chakotay and sat down.  "I taught a
seminar in exploration science at the Academy one year. It was Tom's
freshman year, and I remember hearing that he got into a lot of
fights.  Seems that quite a few people were commenting that Tom bore
very little resemblance to his father."

Chakotay stared at her in astonishment.  "Are you saying that Paris
really IS a bastard?"

She quelled him with an angry glance.  "Pure malicious gossip without
an ounce of truth to it!  Tom is every bit as stubborn as any Paris
who ever lived.  But he gets his looks from his mother - anyone who'd
ever seen Miriam would realize that."

"Mir - !"  Chakotay choked and tried again.  "Miriam O'Rourke? The
Missouri Skylark?  Was Paris' mother?!"

"Didn't you know?"  As Chakotay shook his head, Janeway said, "Well, I
suppose little boys don't pay a lot of attention to the entertainment
news."

Chakotay was having a memory flashback, to a young ensign going with a
group from his ship to see Miriam O'Rourke in Camelot - he'd dreamed
about her for months afterwards.  What a crush he'd had!  And now he
wondered why he'd never noticed the resemblance before.

He brought himself back to the present, realizing that the Captain was
still talking.

" - on all the interview shows, saying she was accepting the role of a
lifetime, the role of Star Fleet wife."  Janeway rolled her eyes.  "I
thought it was very romantic at the time, of course I was only about
ten.  But I guess that when the cameras stopped rolling, the role of a
lifetime got tedious.  She left Gene when Tom was about five.  And
left Tom behind."

Chakotay felt awful.   "Honestly, Captain, if I'd known any of this
stuff, I would have thought of something else to call him!"

"I'm sure it wasn't deliberate, Commander," Janeway assured him.
"Well, what do we do now?"

"Better get down to the brig, I suppose."

In the turbolift, Janeway said, "You know, I always admired Gene Paris
as a Star Fleet officer, but I never knew much about his personal
life.  Didn't care much for what I did know." "What do you mean?"

"Well, he hardly ever mentioned his son.  But he did say something
once that - really bothered me.  He said that any son of Miriam's was
bound to be a weakling, but he'd done his best to turn him into a
Paris, to toughen him up."

Chakotay made a face.  "Actually, that sounds kind of ominous."

"I thought so, too."


In the brig, Crewman Ayala wondered what to do.  He wasn't used to
people checking themselves in to the brig, they were supposed to be
arrested and brought here by Security.  But he'd called the Security
Officer, and Mister Tuvok had told him to just leave the Lieutenant
alone, that the Captain was handling it.

So Lieutenant Paris sat in the cell, though the force field was off.
He was sitting back, hugging his knees and staring off into space.
Ayala thought it was all very weird.


.... Life had gotten very strange, Tommy thought, sitting in the
groundcar and swinging his legs.  But then Daddy gave him a Look, so
he sat still.  Just going anywhere with Daddy was strange, he didn't
usually do much of the childcare stuff.  Right now, Daddy was just
staring out the window.

Mama was gone, and this time it wasn't on tour, this time they said it
was for good.  But nobody was talking about it.  And Nana Paris moved
in, and Tommy really liked Nana P - she told him space stories and
played games with him.

She'd been angry this morning, but not at him.  "Gene, don't do this!"
she'd hissed, but Daddy had just said, "Mother, I have to know," and
taken Tommy to the doctor.

The doctor seemed disapproving, too, though Tommy didn't know why, but
he'd drawn blood and told Tommy that he was a very brave boy.

Then the doctor and Daddy had huddled over a computer screen, and the
doctor had said that There Was No Question About It, and Daddy had
just snorted and said, "All right, then."

Now Tommy looked up and saw that Daddy was looking at him. Daddy said
grudgingly, "Well, you're mine, all right."

And Tommy was glad to hear it, despite the tone of voice. He'd been
kind of nervous since Mama left, wondering if he was going to have to
leave too.  But it was nice to know that he belonged somewhere, with
someone.  That was a good thing.

Wasn't it?....


The door to the brig opened, and Crewman Ayala sprang to his feet.
"Captain!" he said with relief, as the Captain entered with the First
Officer.

"That will be all, Crewman," she told him, and he left the brig
slowly, wondering if he'd ever find out what had gone on.

The two senior officers approached the cell, where Lieutenant Paris
stood waiting for them, his face unreadable.  Finally, Chakotay said,
"You don't have to be here, you're not on report."

"Yes I am," Paris said.  "I put myself on report, sir."

"And as First Officer, I dismissed it.  If you put yourself on report
again, I will dismiss it again."

Paris stepped out of the cell, looking confused.

Janeway said softly, "Just go on back to your quarters, Tom. We'll
talk later."

He started to leave, but turned back at the door.  Looking at
Chakotay, he said defiantly, "It's not true, you know."

"What?"

"That stuff about my mother.  It's not true."

"I'm sure it isn't," Chakotay said.

"I KNOW it isn't," Paris insisted.  "And the blood tests proved it!"

Janeway gasped.  "Oh, Tom!  Did that stupid Academy gossip cause you
to go get blood tests?"

"Of course not," Paris answered.  "I already knew it wasn't true.  I'd
been tested a long time ago.  Right after Mama left."

"Right after - "  There was a long pause.  Then Janeway said
carefully, "Tom, who had you tested?"

"My father."

She took a step backward, her eyes huge.  Then she waved at him, and
he left.

Janeway stood in shocked silence for so long that Chakotay started to
worry about her.  "Captain?"

She pulled herself together, and asked, "What kind of a man would take
a little boy for a paternity test right after he'd been abandoned by
his mother?"

And Chakotay had no answer for her.

--- It took a long time for Chakotay to get to sleep that night. And
then his sleep was interrupted.  He woke up suddenly in the darkness,
to a feel of a long warm body next to his, and a raging hard-on being
caressed gently by practiced fingers, while lips roamed his throat and
chest.  He threw his arms around the naked intruder, and rolled over,
pinning him down.  "Computer, quarter lights."

The dim light showed him a beautiful face alight with mischief, as
Paris asked, "Are you still mad at me?"

"How did you get in here?"

"Hey, locks only keep out honest people."

"What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious?"  Paris squirmed purposefully beneath him, and he
could feel the erection rubbing his belly.  And strong hands were
gently stroking his hips, pulling him down, and Chakotay groaned in
surrender, before feasting on those tempting lips.

The two men lay in the bed, arms around one another, kissing wildly,
tongues meeting, and Paris whispered, "Doesn't this feel good?"

It really did.

Chakotay was lost now, lost in stroking the beautiful body beneath
him, tasting the skin, slightly salty now with sweat, and he roamed
all over his mysterious lover, not understanding him. He stopped for a
moment to look deeply into the blue eyes, wondering what he would see
there.  But what he saw was nothing more complicated than desire, and
he knew that he was probably showing the same.

Pressed close together, Chakotay reached between them, and took Paris'
erection into his hand, and felt a hand fasten around his own.  They
were both panting now, moving urgently against one another, not
kissing now, because they had to keep the connection with the other
man's eyes.

And Chakotay felt a thrill of pure power to see the younger man throw
back his head, closing his eyes and shouting incoherently as he began
to spurt his release against Chakotay's body.  And then Chakotay was
lost too.

Finally spent, they lay together in each other's arms, kissing gently
until they fell asleep.

---

When the alarm woke him the next day, Chakotay sat up with a start.
He was alone.  Had it been a dream, he thought hopefully, but the
state of the sheets told him that it had not been a dream. He rose and
prepared for work, worried.

Because he'd given someone else a hold over him, someone he neither
understood nor trusted.

---

"Hey, I just forgot, is all," Tom protested.

Harry shook his head.  "Don't tell me, tell her.  That's if she'll
ever speak to you again.  She says she won't, but then you've got a
way with words."

Tom tried to look worried at the prospect of Megan Delaney never
speaking to him again.  But then he saw the First Officer enter the
mess hall, and his mind wandered.

Chakotay glanced over at the table where Tom was breakfasting with
Harry, and their eyes met.  Tom delicately licked his lips, and
Chakotay hastily looked away.

Tom bit the inside of his lip, trying not to smile.  Hey, he thought,
don't tease the man too much, or next time he'll just kick you right
out.

Next time?  Tom was surprised at the thought.  Wasn't it just a
payback, a way to get under the guy's skin?  Tom was shocked to
realize that he didn't just want to get under the First Officer's
skin, he wanted to stay there.  Next time?  Damn right there'd be a
next time!  He'd just have to be careful, not push him too far.

He tried to snap back to the here and now, and listen to Harry.

" - probably the most tolerant woman on this ship, Tom," Harry was
saying, "and if she won't put up with you, who will?  You can't just
go around standing people up and think they're going to take it
forever."

Tom sighed.  "Oh, well.  Maybe I'll just give up, Harry.  Do you think
I'd make a good monk?"

"No!"  But Harry couldn't help laughing.  "I think you'd make a pretty
lousy monk, Tom."


But it appeared to the women aboard Voyager that Lieutenant Paris had
indeed taken some sort of monastic vows.  Megan Delaney consulted in
hushed whispers with Sue Nicoletti, and Sue said, "No, I haven't seen
him around much lately.  He used to be such a pest."

Megan just sighed and went back to work.  She hadn't considered Tom a
pest at all.  She wondered who he was after now, but according to the
latest gossip in the women's locker room, no one else knew the answer
either.


Voyager's First Officer could have told them, though of course he
never would.  Several nights after the brig incident, he woke up to
find that he had company again.

Tom lay beside him, on his side, propped up on his elbow, stroking the
commander's chest and looking thoughtful.

"What?"  Chakotay asked.

"Oh," Tom said lazily, "I've just been wondering what you would feel
like inside me."

Trying to control his breathing, Chakotay answered, "I suppose there's
one way to find out."

Tom's eyes flashed for an instant, and then he was on his stomach,
saying, "Oh, let's!"

Chakotay sat up, and moved behind the younger man.  He stroked the
smooth pale back hesitantly.  He'd never done this before.  Tom was
reaching back, handing him something - it was a tube of lubricant.
"Oh,"  he said.  "I guess - yeah, right."

"Just do like I did you," Tom told him, and closed his eyes with a
happy sigh.

Chakotay began to caress the tender ass, gently feeling the anus,
unable to really believe that he was doing this, but so aroused he
knew it was impossible to stop.  He remembered the stretching that Tom
had done for him, and copied it, feeling the young man shiver with
desire.

And then he was pushing his way in, harder than he'd ever been in his
life, and this was so tight, he thought he would come immediately.  He
managed to control himself, and when he was all the way in, he stopped
for a moment to lie on Tom's back and feel the unfamiliar connection.
He thought uneasily that this could quickly become addictive.

"How's that?" he whispered.

Tom sighed and said, "Oh, it's perfect!"

Chakotay felt rather proud of himself, remembering Tom's reputation,
and knowing that his own background really was rather puritanical.
But then he was beyond thinking, given over completely to physical
sensation.  And when he came, he couldn't deny that it was the most
intense orgasm of his life.

Panting, he rolled Tom over and pulled him into his arms, kissing him
deeply while he masturbated him, enjoying the sensation of the man
writhing in his arms, whimpering eagerly until he came screaming.

---

During the day, Chakotay tried to come up with some sort of
reconciliation with himself, some understanding of what was going on.
But it proved to be impossible.  Paris never spoke of it, seldom
showed by more than the quickest glance that he even remembered what
had happened in the night.

Chakotay usually prided himself on his self-awareness, on his own
ability to examine himself and his motives.  But in this instance, he
really didn't want to know.  Avoiding the subject entirely, he
compartmentalized.

During the day, there was Lieutenant Paris, excellent pilot, merest
acquaintance, who did his job, and shared meals with Torres and Kim,
barely conversing with the First Officer.

But at night, there was Tom, and that was altogether different.  Tom
was someone Chakotay never saw during the day, but welcomed eagerly at
night, a vibrant young lover who took and gave pleasure with abandon,
and with an astonishing openness and vulnerability.

Chakotay was with Tom now, entering his body, and this was one of his
favorite things.  Tom lay on his back, smiling up at his lover, his
legs around Chakotay's neck.

And Chakotay brought him right to the brink of orgasm, and stopped.
This was what he loved the most, bringing Tom to this point, and then
holding him here for as long as possible.  His hand held the young
man's erection firmly, but he wasn't going to let him go just yet, and
Tom quivered beneath him, as their eyes remained locked together.

For a timeless period, they held their place, Chakotay loving the
openness in the wide blue eyes, the wordless yearning, as he occupied
the beautiful body.  And then Tom moaned, and they were moving again,
and went shoutin g together over the brink, and lay gasping in one
another's arms. "You're mine!" Chakotay growled softly, and Tom echoed
happily, "Yours."

---

The staff meeting was discussing the Captain's suggestion about
revising the traditional Star Fleet fraternization policy, in light of
their unusual circumstances.  Neelix and Kes listened to such arcana
in bemused silence.  Torres caught Kim's eye, and gave a skyward look,
and he bit his lip to suppress a giggle.

Kim thought it was rather amusing to hear the ivory tower discussion
on deck one, knowing that belowdecks, the crew had resolved most of
these questions to their own satisfaction.

Captain Janeway had thrown open for discussion the possibility of
simply junking the fraternization prohibition altogether, as long as
personal relationships were not allowed to interfere with the work
environment.

"After all," she said, "we've been out for almost two years now, with
the prospect of many more to come.  I don't feel like I can tell
someone, 'You can't fall in love with that person, because they're
enlisted', or an officer, or whatever. We need new rules. Or at least
a relaxation of the rules we've got."

Tuvok was nodding gravely.  "Indeed.  Human attraction is not likely
to be governed by rank.  And you would scarcely wish to be put in the
position of having to assign mates."

A small explosion from the end of the table signalled Harry trying to
stifle a laugh.  He was wondering who the Captain would assign to him.

Harry tried to catch Tom's eye, knowing that Tom's own adventures had
never taken rank into consideration, but Tom was listening to the
discussion with a politely blank face.

"I don't know, Captain," Chakotay said doubtfully.  "I mean about
throwing out the policy altogether.  That could leave us open to some
wildly inappropriate matches."

The First Officer was thinking about a turbulent and occasionally
violent triangle that was currently roiling the Stellar Cartography
staff.  And he had no idea how his comment would affect an insecure
young man who had been trying desperately to pretend that he was
loved.

---

Was Tom gone?  It had been a week now since he'd visited Chakotay's
quarters, and the Commander didn't understand it.  Of course, he'd
never understood why Tom had started the whole business in the first
place.  He supposed there were a lot of things he didn't understand.
He slumped in his chair on the bridge and brooded.

Captain Janeway wondered about her First Officer's mood.  He'd been
subject to strange mood swings ever since the epidemic.  Ever since
he'd gone to Avara, and, as near as Janeway could tell, had seduced
the Queen Mother to get the vital serum.

She was starting to wonder if she should demand that he complete the
away mission report.  Or maybe she should just ask Lieutenant Paris.

The shift was over.  Tom sighed with relief.  Maybe he'd get used to
this eventually, flying the ship with Chakotay sitting behind him; he
kept wanting to turn around, kept thinking he felt eyes on his back.

He headed off to the mess hall with Harry, lost in thought.


"Voyager to Paris - come in Paris."

Tom jumped.  He'd gotten through the chow line, had a seat, and eating
half his meal, without realizing what he was doing.

Harry was staring at him.  "Where have you been?"

Tom laughed uncomfortably, "Oh, just cruising the galaxy, I guess."

"See anything interesting out there?"


"Not really." "Come on, Tom, what's gotten into you lately?"


"Nothing!"  And Tom thought - literally!

Harry shrugged.  "Well, have it your way.  But you've really been
acting weird."

"I have?"

"Didn't you know that?"

Tom stood up suddenly.  "I'm not hungry," he said, and left in a
hurry.

He entered his quarters and flopped face down on the sofa, abandoning
himself to his miserable thoughts.

Chakotay's right, he thought - I AM a slut.  Why else would I have
kept throwing myself at a guy who won't even talk to me when I've got
my clothes on?

He was hearing a voice now, from the distant past - "You miserable,
worthless little piece of screwed-up shit - " - and sighed, and said
aloud, "Right."

---

"Captain, I think we've lost the probe."

Janeway sighed.  She turned toward Ops, and asked, "What do you mean,
lost?"

"It's not responding to remote command," Ensign Kim amplified.

"But it's still there?"

"Yes, it's still there.  Just not doing what it's told." Voyager was
in the process of scanning an asteroid belt for useful minerals, and
had sent a probe to gather more detailed information.  "Well, we need
the information, and we need the probe, too.  I guess we'll just have
to go and get it.  Mister Rollins, take the Conn.  Mister Paris,
you'll pilot the shuttle. Could get bumpy, judging by the
interference.  Commander," she turned to Chakotay, "you want to man
the tractor beam?"

"Yes, ma'am," Chakotay responded, knowing he was probably their best
tractor operator, a talent that had come in handy in various
underhanded maneuvers against the Cardassians.  It wasn't until he was
in the turbolift on the way to the shuttlebay that he realized that
this would put him on an away mission alone with Paris.

For the first time since -

Chakotay quickly shut down that train of thought.

Paris was staring straight ahead, the very model of cool
professionalism.  Chakotay wanted to throttle him, wanted to shout,
"You son of a bitch, what have you done with Tom?"

Three weeks now, and his lover had never returned.

---

The Captain was right.  It was a bumpy ride, and a difficult
retrieval.  But Chakotay was surprised to realize how well the two men
worked together.  Paris seemed to know which direction Chakotay would
want him to maneuver before he did, and after a few frustrating
attempts, Chakotay finally made the successful grab, and the probe was
recovered.  They set course back for the ship.

With their mission accomplished, Chakotay had time to brood now, about
the mystery of Tom Paris.  And it seemed incredible to him now that he
had let things go on for so long without getting any answers.

So when the shuttle set down in the shuttlebay, he blocked the aisle,
preventing the pilot from leaving.  Paris looked at him and raised his
eyebrows, saying nothing.

"Tell me something," Chakotay demanded, and he couldn't keep the anger
out of his voice.  "Now that it's over, just tell me what it was
about.  I just want to know - why?"

Paris managed not to flinch, though he wanted to, both at the angry
tone, and at the words - 'now that it's over'.  Over, he thought
bleakly, and then smiled vindictively at the older man. "What was it
about?  It was about payback, Commander."

He was pleased to see that he'd scored a direct hit.  Chakotay looked
stunned, and stepped aside to let him pass.

After the pilot had left, Chakotay slumped back down into a seat,
wishing he hadn't asked.  Because it was bad enough to be a dupe and a
middle-aged fool.  But far worse was the knowledge that Tom, his
exciting, generous young lover, the Tom he was still missing and
mourning, that Tom had never even existed.

---

Unable to sleep, Chakotay sat at his computer terminal, reading a
short biography of Miriam O'Rourke.  Between the lines of the
authorized hagiography, he thought he was getting a sense of the real
Miriam, the woman who left her son behind, who linked up with ever
more important men in the entertainment industry, until her untimely
death in a bizarre space accident while touring.  He was starting to
hate her - shallow, self-centered, with only two things going for her:
that unique voice, and the ability to create fictional characters that
people would fall in love with.

She must have been in her mid-forties when Chakotay saw her on stage,
but so convincingly did she create the young queen that he easily
believed her to be twenty and naive, bewildered by her royalty,
needing someone to take care of her.

The ability to create fictional characters -  Chakotay sighed and
switched off the computer.  Runs in the family, he thought.

---

Tom was having trouble sleeping too.  He kept hearing a voice,
replayed from memory, a soft possessive growl - "You're mine!" Paris,
you idiot - don't you know better than to believe what people say
right after they've fucked you?

He had just wanted so badly to believe it, to believe that he finally
belonged somewhere again.  It had been so long.  Years since he'd lost
his precarious footing and become an outcast, belonging nowhere, to no
one.

All his life, he'd tried so hard to belong, had put up with so much
without a word of complaint, trying to prove that he was a real Paris,
and not a weakling like Mama, that he could be as tough as anyone.

And it had been gone in a moment, when the discharge was announced,
and Dad had just turned and walked away, never to be seen again, as if
everything he had done, everything he had lived through up to that
point was simply erased.

It had all been for nothing.


---

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Janeway looked up from her desk, and nodded.  "Yes, Commander," she
said formally.  "Please take a seat."

Chakotay sat, and the silence stretched out uncomfortably. Finally
Janeway spoke.

"Commander, I have tried to follow your recommendation, and not
request a fuller accounting of your away mission to Avara." She noted
with interest that he almost flinched.  "But I don't feel that I can
do that anymore.  Something is obviously bothering you, has bothered
you since then, disturbed you deeply."

Still he said nothing.

She softened her voice.  "It's becoming quite noticeable Chakotay.
Didn't you know?"

No, he hadn't known.  He looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"If we had a ship's counselor, I'd send you there.  I don't know how
to help you, I don't even know if I can help you.  But if you would
just tell me what happened, I'd have a better idea of what to do."

Chakotay nodded.  He cleared his throat and tried to start. Then he
stood up and began to pace.  "I told you about being imprisoned by the
King, and then the Queen Mother's people breaking us out of the
prison?"

"Yes, and that the Queen Mother provided the serum.  But you brought
back all the duranium.  So what did you give her for the serum?"

Chakotay made a strange noise.  It might have been a laugh. "We gave
her and the ladies of her court a sex show, Captain."

Janeway sat back and stared at him.  She hadn't known what to expect,
but she hadn't expected this.  "Oh, Chakotay!  A - with whom?  Did
some of these ladies - "

Chakotay interrupted her, exasperated.  "With EACH OTHER!"

"W - "  Janeway stood up.  "I need some coffee.  Would you like some?"
Chakotay nodded, and they moved silently to the upper level of the
Ready Room.

Janeway ordered the coffee, wondering what to do.  She knew how this
must have affected her proud First Officer, but hadn't the slightest
idea what to do about it.  She turned and handed him a cup.
"Chakotay, I don't know what to say," she admitted.

He chuckled weakly.  "Sorry you asked?"

There was a long pause for thought.  "No.  I don't think so. It's
better to know.  But I just don't know what to do.  If we were back in
Federation territory, one of you could transfer, I suppose. But I need
both my First Officer and my best pilot on the bridge."

"I know that, Captain.  It's just something I have to deal with, I
guess."

Janeway sighed sympathetically.  "And the two of you disliking one
another so much - I don't suppose this helped at all."

Chakotay said honestly, "I would say it made things much worse,
Captain."  Because now I'm obsessed with the man, I think about him
all the time, want him all the time -

He squared his shoulders and looked up.  "I'll just have to make more
of an effort, Captain.  Thank you for bringing my dereliction to my
attention."

She looked into his eyes, and saw that the confidences were over.
"Very well, Commander.  But if you need to talk to anyone, you know
I'm always here."

--- Conversation in a chow line: "Morning, Paris.  How's everything?"
( - and why don't you kneel down right here and suck me off? - let me
fuck that pretty face in front of all these people, just like you did
before - )

"Oh, just fine.  You?"  ( - want to show you just how abject a
surrender can be, lying face down on the floor, drawing up my knees
and raising my ass, begging you to take me, use me, take your pleasure
in my worthless body - )

"Fine."  ( - hold you in my arms as you sleep, watching the sweet
smile on your face, feeling my semen sticky on your thighs, and
remembering how you threw back your head and screamed and sobbed as I
came deep inside your perfect, precious body - )


Sandrine's.  Tom headed back to the pool table with a pitcher of beer,
and watched Harry take his shot.  The kid was getting better.  "Not
too awful there, Harry."

"Oh, stop it - I'm blushing!"

No one was waiting for the table, so they were taking their time, not
playing a serious game, just something to go with the beer.

"Hey, Tom, Megan was talking to me the other day."

"Yeah?"

"She's wondering who you're with these days."

Tom pretended to look puzzled.  "Who I'm with?  Depends on the time of
day, doesn't it?  When I'm on watch there's you and the Captain and
Chakotay and Tuvok - "

"Very funny.  She meant romantically."

"And what did you say?"

"What do you think I said?  That I don't know!  Because I don't."

"Jeez, Harry, cut a guy some slack!  What rule says I've always got to
be in the middle of some romance?"

Harry thought about it for a minute.  "Precedents?"

Tom rolled his eyes.  "What a reputation to have!"

"Really, Tom.  You mean there's nobody right now?  Is that why you've
been acting so strange?"

"Strange?  What do you mean?"  Tom thought for a minute and added,
"And I think I resent the implication that I'm some kind of sex addict
or something."

"Sorry.  I mean strange like - well, not like yourself.  When was the
last time you told a joke?"

"Oh, so that's my personality?  The court jester sex addict?"

"Boy, you're touchy lately."

They continued their game in offended silence for a few minutes.  Then
Harry said, "But really, Tom.  Why don't you ask Megan out?  She
really likes you."

Tom looked up at Harry in surprise.  "Harry, you can't just go around
grabbing people just because they're available.  They start thinking
you really care about them."

It was Harry's turn to look surprised.

Tom said, "Didn't you know that?"

"Well, yes, I knew that, but I didn't know that you did."

Tom turned back to the pool table, muttering, "I must have read it
somewhere."

He looked down at the game, thinking - I read it in a pair of deep,
dark eyes.  Eyes that I could have sworn were filled with tenderness
and love, until I woke up and saw them filled with anger and hate  -
'now that it's over' - like I'm just some worthless piece of trash -
and I'd been so sure -

His next shot went wild.

---

Chakotay walked down the dirt trail, feeling none of the peace that he
usually experienced in this place.  The chilly wind, which had once
felt briskly exhilarating, now felt desolate, and he shivered.

He walked alone, today, wondering where his companion was. She usually
walked this trail with him, padding along by his side, and her cryptic
comments amused him, teased him like puzzles.  But lately, she had
merely exasperated him, and it must have showed.

He smelled wood smoke, and that was unusual for this place. But then
he came to the clearing, and found a small camp fire, with a man
sitting beside it.

Kolopak turned and said casually, "Oh, Chakotay.  There you are."

Chakotay sat down beside the old man.  "Hello, Father."

"You weren't expecting me."

"Not really."

"Because you haven't been seeking me."

Chakotay said nothing.  It was true.  He hadn't sought Kolopak's
counsel.  Didn't think it would do any good.

"You're alone today,"  Kolopak added.

Chakotay nodded.  "I don't know where she is."

Kolopak sighed.  "She's about to wash her paws of you, Chakotay."

That surprised him.  Did spirit guides ever just give up? "Why?"

"You don't listen to her."

"I don't understand her!"

"Do you want to?"

Another silence.

"So here I am," Kolopak added, with a twinkle in his eye. "Because I
can be just as stubborn as you."

"Stubborn?"

"Yes, stubborn!  Too stubborn to listen, to understand, to ask the
right questions."

After a long pause, Chakotay said, "Okay.  I'm listening."

"Are you?  Are you really?  Then listen carefully, son, because this
you need to hear."

Chakotay leaned forward, to hear the important advice.

"Get a life, Chakotay!"

He sat back, disappointed.  "I have a life," he protested foolishly.

"So?  And when are you going to start living it?  When you get
accepted to the Academy - no wait, when you get your commission. No,
when you get a ship to command.  No wait, when the Cardassians are
defeated.  When you get back to the Alpha Quadrant?  In SEVENTY YEARS,
Chakotay, then will you start living your life?  Or will your life be
over before you've even started to live it?"

"Look," Chakotay protested, "I have responsibilities, an important
job, a lost crew - "

"So did I have responsibilities.  But I didn't drive your mother away
with my preoccupied self-importance, now did I?" "If this is about
Clara - "

"No!  This is not about Clara, about the past.  This is about the
present.  And the future."

Chakotay sighed.  Now he got it.  The last thing in the world he
wanted to discuss with Kolopak.  "This is about Tom."

"About Tom.  And about you."

"Well, what am I suppose to do about it?" Chakotay cried out,
anguished.

"How should I know?  But you see, don't you, that you must do
something?"

Chakotay nodded wearily.  "But what do you do - " he paused and took a
deep breath.  God, this was painful!  "What do you do when you love
someone who hates you?  When they only made you fall in love with them
as some sort of revenge, some sort of joke?"

Kolopak looked surprised.  "Is that what happened?"  Chakotay nodded,
and his father said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!  Dammit, he said so!"

Kolopak nodded thoughtfully.  "And of course he always tells the
truth."  Chakotay looked up sharply at this, and Kolopak went on, "And
of course he's never been hurt, so would not understand or care about
the consequences of hurting another."

"I don't know," Chakotay whispered.

Kolopak looked up, and said briskly, "Well, then, it's simple, isn't
it?"

"It is?"

"You must either stop loving him, or make him stop hating you."

"And how would I do either of those things?"

Kolopak shrugged.  "You figure it out.  But one thing's certain.  You
won't accomplish either sitting on the floor of your quarters talking
to a figment of your imagination."

Chakotay raised his head.  Outside the window, the stars of the Delta
Quadrant streamed past anonymously.

---

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Paris."

"Lieutenant Paris is in the mess hall."

Chakotay looked at the time.  After eleven, he saw with surprise.  He
must have been meditating for hours before he met Kolopak.  Well,
that's good - the mess hall would probably be deserted now.

As he entered the mess hall, Chakotay saw that he was right. The room
was on dimmed after-hours lighting, and the only person there was the
man sitting over by the window.

He hadn't heard the door.  Chakotay stood for a moment watching him.

Tom sat in the last row of tables, facing the window, leaning back
against the table.  His feet were propped up on the wall, and he was
staring moodily out the window.  Chakotay had never seen him looking
like that, so forlorn.  He wondered, is this the face he wears when no
one is looking?

All the way here, he'd been lecturing himself, don't shout at the man,
and don't grab him either.  Keep your voice down, let's try to figure
this out.  But now he saw that the instinct he would have to fight the
hardest was the one telling him to sweep this young man into his arms
and cherish and protect him.

Tom must have heard something, because he turned around.  Now his face
was arranged in more familiar lines, as he said, "Good evening.
Commander."

Oh, shit, the smart ass was back

Chakotay advanced into the room, saying, "I'd like to talk to you."

Tom chuckled.  "Well, they say talk is cheap.  So you've come to the
right guy."

Chakotay sat down on the bench beside Tom, pondering the last remark.
Then he turned to the younger man, and said, "Payback for what?" as if
the conversation of several weeks ago was only minutes old.

Tom shrugged.  "You know."

"Actually, I don't."

"Maybe I just wanted to prove that you could want me, that it wasn't
so totally disgusting."

"What the hell are you talking about?"  Chakotay was honestly
bewildered.

Tom turned to give him an angry glare.  "Shit, no wonder you're still
single and unattached.  Do you usually puke after sex? Some people
would tend to take offense at that."

After a moment, Chakotay realized what he was talking about - the
Summer Palace.  He exclaimed, "That wasn't about you!"

"Yeah.  Right."  Tom turned back to stare out the window.

"No.  Really.  It was the Queen Mother and the page, don't you
remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Didn't you see what she had that kid doing?"

Tom snarled, "I think I was a bit preoccupied at the time."

So Chakotay told him, the Queen Mother with her skirts up, and the
little boy with his face buried between her thighs - he was feeling a
bit squeamish as he described it, but when he looked at Tom, Tom
merely looked puzzled.

"So?" Tom asked, in a matter of fact tone.  "So what?  Maybe she
thought he needed to be toughened up."

This was such a non sequitur that Chakotay had trouble parsing it.
Then he noticed that Tom's fists were clenched, and his eyes were
closed.

Tom said rapidly, "Shutupshutupshutupshutup."  But he didn't seem to
be talking to Chakotay.  Then he stood and headed for the door.

Chakotay grabbed his arm before he made it out the door, and swung him
around, "Tom, what on earth - "

But Tom's eyes were wide with panic, and his voice was high and
childish, as he said, "We don't talk about Family Stuff to Outsiders,
Outsiders would never understand - " as if he were reciting a lesson.

And he broke free from Chakotay's hold and was gone.

Chakotay stood petrified in the door of the mess hall.  He was trying
to think, trying to remember - why did that sound familiar?

And then he had it.  Captain Janeway saying "he said that any son of
Miriam's was bound to be a weakling, but he'd done his best to make a
Paris out of him, tried to toughen him up."

Oh, shit!  Chakotay took off down the hall.


Tom hurried down the hall, wondering where he could go, where he could
hide.  He was mentally cursing himself as he went, how close he'd come
to betraying the family, just because a guy was strong and gorgeous
and looked concerned.

Maybe he really was a weakling, just like Mama, and the Paris part
just didn't take.

Where could he go?  Somewhere where there were people, that would be
the safest.  He asked the computer, and his Sandrine's program was
still running, so someone was still awake, and he'd be safe there.

---

Captain Janeway was sipping wine, talking with Harry.  She liked
Harry, he was almost a surrogate son, and right now they were talking
about science and exploration, and she was telling him humorous
stories about some of her ensign pratfalls.

But then the doors swung open, and Tom entered the bar, looking wild.
He saw them, and took a deep breath.  "Captain," he said, trying to be
casual and in control.  "Good evening."

And the doors swung open again, and Chakotay stormed in, looking even
wilder.  "Stop running away from me!" he shouted.

Tom began to back away.  Janeway said, "Commander - " but neither man
was paying attention to her.

"And don't give me any of that Outsider crap, either," Chakotay
continued, advancing on Tom.  "I'm not an Outsider, goddammit, I LOVE
YOU!"

Tom's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.  Chakotay was quickly
beside him, and pulled the young man into his arms.  He looked over
Tom's head to Janeway and Kim, directing his eyes to the door in an
unmistakable request that they leave.

Janeway and Kim had jumped to their feet, and Janeway said softly, "If
you're sure you can handle - "

But he wasn't listening to her.  Pressing Tom's head to his heart, he
was murmuring, "It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything, there
now, honey, everything is okay now, you're with me."

And Tom's arms came around him and clutched him tightly.

The Captain and the ensign exchanged surprised looks, and quietly
tiptoed out.

Tom's face was buried in the Commander's chest, and his mind was
whirling.  He said he loves me?  In public, with our clothes on?  Does
that mean he means it?  But he wouldn't love me if he knew.

He raised his face to look at Chakotay, and now he was being kissed,
and had to kiss back.  But he was feeling guilty, letting Chakotay's
emotions sweep away his better judgment, sure he would regret it one
day.  So he pulled away, and said softly, "Chakotay, don't.  You don't
know about me, you wouldn't like me if you did."

"Says you!" Chakotay said roughly, and reached for him again. Tom
backed up, not wanting to, but feeling as if he should.

"No, really.  I've done a lot of stuff you would disapprove of, and I
couldn't stand it, seeing you disappointed and disgusted with me - "

Now Chakotay grabbed him and pulled him back into his arms. "Don't
worry about it," he said.  "I'm a whore too, remember?"

Tom couldn't help chuckling weakly at that, but protested, "I think I
started younger than you did - " but was cut off by Chakotay's mouth
on his.

Chakotay thought, as he had once before, this is one way to get the
guy to shut up.

For a long time the two men knelt on the floor in Sandrine's, kissing
one another blindly, and now their hands began to roam each other's
bodies -

- and an outraged female voice said, "Monsieur Tom!  This is a
respectable establishment!"

Sandrine was glaring at them, hands on her hips, and Tom started to
say, "Computer, delete - "

But Chakotay stood and jerked Tom to his feet, saying, "You're coming
with me."


As soon as the door to his quarters closed behind them, Chakotay began
undressing the younger man.  Tom helped him out, almost frantic to get
shed of his clothes.  When he was naked, he pressed himself against
his lover and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him hard on the
lips.  Then he tore himself away and turned around, dropping to his
hands and knees on the floor.

Chakotay was unzipping his jumpsuit, and said, "Tom, the bedroom - "

But Tom insisted, "Right here!  Now!"

And suddenly it had to be now, no time to undress, no time to move to
the bedroom, barely time to  push some saliva into Tom's body before
he was pushing into him.

Pushing fast and pushing hard, and he was all the way in, and Tom
threw back his head, groaning, "Oh yes!"

How could he have done without this for so long?  An act which felt so
good and gave such pleasure?  Chakotay was lost now, in his lover's
body, and Tom was pushing back against him, every bit as eager, and
all Chakotay could think was - mine, mine - this man is mine!

In a haze of pleasure, he reached for Tom's erection, and Tom was
shouting now, but there were no words, and then they were panting on
the floor, and Chakotay was kissing Tom's ear.

Tom said softly, "Doin' good.  You didn't puke that time."

To which Chakotay responded, "Come to bed, smart ass."

---

The two men lay together in the big bed, the stars streaking outside
the window.  They stroked one another gently, and now Chakotay could
see the love in Tom's eyes.  But he also saw fear, and uncertainty.

"Okay," he said roughly.  "Let's get some rules straight."

Tom nodded, worried.

"First rule.  None of this sneaking in here in the middle of the night
several times a week."  He kissed Tom's lips, hard, and went on, "This
is your bed now.  Right here.  Every night.  Got that?"

Tom said softly, "Yessir."

"Second rule.  Any pajamas you've got, throw them out.  You don't wear
pajamas anymore.  Got that?"

"Yessir."  Tom's eyes were shining now.

"Third rule.  I don't share.  The Delaney sisters will just have to get
along without you.  Got that?"

"Yessir."

Chakotay rolled over, pinning Tom beneath him.  "Now say you're mine."

Tom laughed breathlessly, and said, "You're mine.."

"Very funny.  Say it!"  Chakotay reached down, and took Tom's penis in
his hand, sliding his hand up and down, and then he stopped, causing
Tom to moan in protest.  "Say it!"

"I'm yours."

"Really?"

"I'm yours!"  Tom was moving beneath the heavier man, now desperately
aroused, and repeated, "Yours, yours!"

"Say you belong to me."

"I belong to you!  Chakotay, please!"

Now both men were moving, kissing, and they were beyond words.


Chakotay woke up in the middle of the night.  He watched his lover's
sleeping face, feeling almost dizzy.  Like he'd just stepped off a
cliff, and didn't know yet whether he was falling or flying.  But the
great thing about stepping off a cliff is that there's no going back.

He lightly stroked Tom's lips, enjoying the tiny smile.  He couldn't
help worrying about Tom, now that he acknowledged that he loved him.

He knew enough now to see why Tom was so insecure, however much he
tried to hide it, and wondered if Tom would ever become secure enough
to rebel against being dominated.  He rather hoped so.  But in the
meantime, it seemed to make Tom feel safe, to be ordered about, so
Chakotay would certainly oblige.

He had surprised himself tonight - never before had he snapped out
orders like that, or pinned someone down and demanded that they admit
his ownership of them.  But Tom seemed to like it.  And Chakotay had
to admit - he sort of liked it too.

---

B'Elanna leaned over the table, smiling in disbelief and pushing her
eggs away uneaten.  "I'd say you were making this up, Star Fleet, if I
didn't know your imagination isn't quite that twisted."

Harry shrugged.  "Hey, what can I say?  Was I hallucinating?"

"That would almost make more sense."

The doors to the mess hall opened then, and the First Officer and
Conning Officer entered.  The two young officers watched them
speculatively.  As the newcomers filled their trays and walked toward
them, it seemed to Harry that Tom was looking suspiciously docile.  He
bit his lip, wondering if Chakotay knew what he was in for.

"Morning," Tom said with a sunny smile, as he and Chakotay sat down at
Harry and B'Elanna's table.  Side by side.

After a few awkward attempts at small talk, B'Elanna retrieved her
eggs and tried again to eat them, watching Tom and Chakotay out of the
corner of her eye.

After a few minutes, Tom said mournfully, "I have to throw away all my
pajamas."

Chakotay gave him a sharp look, but said nothing.

B'Elanna choked on her juice, and said, "Uh - really?  Why?"

"I've been ordered to," Tom said meekly.  After a moment, he gave a
tragic sigh, and added, "I'm really going to miss the fuzzy blue ones.
The ones with the feet."

B'Elanna said, "Gee.  That's too bad - " wondering what on earth was
going on.

But Harry finally lost it and exploded with laughter.  When he could
talk again, he said, "B'Elanna, do you really believe that Tom owns a
pair of pajamas with FEET?"

Tom said, "Oh!  Well, that's all right then."

Chakotay said ominously, "Look here, you - "

But Tom stood up.  "Gotta run, people, got some reports to write."

As he left the table, he moved around behind the Commander, and
suddenly pulled him back, and leaned over and planted a passionate
kiss on his mouth.  Before Chakotay could regain his balance, Tom had
left.

Chakotay caught the eye of the two others at the table, daring them to
say anything, and finished his breakfast in silence.

---

Captain Janeway was watching bridge conditions with interest,
wondering if she should haul her First Officer into her Ready Room and
demand an explanation.  Maybe when he was in a better mood.

Lieutenant Paris had reported for duty looking so angelic you could
almost see the halo.  A few minutes later, Chakotay entered the
bridge, trailing a thundercloud with him.  He glowered at the back of
the Conning Officer for a moment, and then opened the terminal between
him and the Captain, and tried to concentrate on administrative
detail.

After a while, the peace was broken when Chakotay made a choking
sound.  Janeway leaned over to see what he was reading.  It was a
report chit.

Let's see.  Name of Complainant:  Paris, Lt.  Name of Accused: Paris,
Lt.  Oh, dear, why was Tom putting himself on report again?

Description of offense: Public Display of Affection.

Janeway glanced over at Chakotay, who was biting his lip so hard she
was afraid he was going to draw blood.

The Captain couldn't help herself, she just had to read on.
Recommended punishment: twelve hours extra duties.  Nature of duties -
gracious!  Janeway felt her face growing warm as she read the graphic,
indeed pornographic, description of the extra duties that Lieutenant
Paris seemed to feel his offense warranted.

Chakotay was dealing with the report, marking the space for 'guilty'.
Janeway tapped him on the wrist, and he looked up and whispered, "This
isn't going into the ship's Punishment Log, Captain, just - my
personal files."

Then he turned back to the report chit, and under recommended
punishment, noted, "Concur."

---

The mess hall was buzzing at lunchtime.  A garbled version of the
breakfast encounter had made its way throughout the ship, and the
Maquis were outraged.

As soon as Chakotay had sat down at a table with his tray, Dalby and
Geron had joined him.  He looked up in surprise.  "Hey, what's up?"

Dalby sat across from him and leaned forward.  "Is it true, Commander?
It's all over the ship that Lieutenant Paris is back to being
disrespectful to you.  I know he's the Captain's pet, but we can't let
him get away - "

Chakotay raised a hand, stopping Dalby's tirade.  "Listen, crewman.
It's handled."

"Yes, but - "

"I said, it's handled."

And now Tom was joining them with his tray.  He sat down beside
Chakotay, saying politely, "Commander.  Gentlemen.  Good afternoon."

"Afternoon," Dalby said, nonplussed.  And then he noticed how close to
Chakotay Paris was sitting.  And then the Commander's hand moved down
to rest possessively on Paris' thigh.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "all right then, Commander."  And he and
Geron moved on.

Tom said softly, "Aren't I being good?"

Chakotay turned to look at him, and wanted to shout with joy. It was
Tom!  His sweet generous young lover!  In the middle of the day, in
the middle of the mess hall, here he was!

He couldn't help it.  He grabbed Tom's hair and pulled him back,
fastening his lips over Tom's mouth.

---

Captain Janeway sat in her Ready Room, dealing with all the boring
administrivia.  Fuel consumption report.  Check.  Crew rations
utilization.  Check.  Report chit -

Report chit?

Why had this come to her, instead of going through the First Officer?
She read it carefully.

Name of Complainant:  Chakotay, Cmdr.  Name of Accused: Chakotay,
Cmdr.  Description of Offense:  Public Display of Affection.

Janeway couldn't help thinking that this voyage had just gotten
significantly more interesting.

---

The End