Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Tom Paris had questioned Janeway's choice of a "lifeguard." In fact, he'd questioned it rather vehemently. He'd argued, no, he'd strongly suggested that the captain find someone else. Perhaps a member of the Maquis. After all, the first officer would probably feel more comfortable with someone he knew better.
Janeway had some strong suggestions of her own. She'd thought the same way at first, but then dismissed the idea. Chakotay was admired and respected by the Maquis crew members; the image he projected was one of strength and control. Any one of them would have been more than willing to help their commander. They all knew that he was ill. But knowing and seeing were different matters altogether. Janeway didn't want to do anything that could possibly harm the relationship Chakotay had with his crew. His image would be safe with her.
And so, she'd explained, that had left Paris. Chakotay's image meant virtually nothing to the brash, young lieutenant. There would be no long term relationship to damage. And caring for a fellow officer might actually do him some good. Something about warmth and empathy. Of course, those weren't the exact words she'd used, but he'd gotten the general idea. And besides, she'd added with a knowing smile, now that Chakotay's life belonged to Paris, well, there were a few responsibilities.
Paris frowned as he adjusted the bathtub's water controls. She couldn't have used that last bit against him if it hadn't been for his own big mouth. The "your life is mine" routine had become common knowledge on the bridge. It was only a joke. But Janeway had taken it a step further.
"Damn!" The voice came from over his shoulder.
Paris swung around and found Chakotay leaning in the bathroom doorway, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons on his pajama shirt.
"Can't you stay put?" Paris complained good-naturedly, stepping over to the man. He'd left Chakotay sitting on the edge of the bed. "I told you I'd be back for you."
Dark brown eyes flashed up at him. "I can walk across my bedroom."
"Yeah, well that's good because you're getting nowhere with that shirt." Paris reached out and gently pushed Chakotay's shaking hands away from his chest. "Let me help."
Chakotay didn't object, although he wasn't at all happy with the situation. He reluctantly allowed Paris to unbutton and remove his shirt. The first officer was solid and muscular, and although Paris was taller, there was no doubt who was normally the stronger of the two. It was somewhat disconcerting to realize just how weak Chakotay was now.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said quietly, "I can manage the rest myself."
Paris took a step back and hitched his hip on the bathroom counter. "I'm sure you can. But my orders are not to leave you under any circumstances."
"Lieutenant..."
"Hey," he raised his hands in mock surrender, "it's not my idea. The captain reminded me that, well..." Paris smiled. "Your life is mine, Commander."
Chakotay heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Aren't you taking this 'your life is mine' thing a little too seriously?"
"Just... Get in the tub, Chakotay," Paris muttered. "I have a date in an hour."
Chakotay shook his head in defeat and moved toward the tub. "You sure this water is hot?" he questioned.
"Scalding."
"Good." Chakotay untied his pajama pants and allowed them to slip off his hips and fall to the floor. He started to step into the tub, and then felt Paris' hand on his arm, supporting him. He didn't pull away, but let him help as he sank into the water.
Chakotay instantly felt his body relax as the warmth surrounded him. Bracing himself with his arms on either side of the tub, he leaned his head back against the edge and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he'd taken the time to enjoy the luxury of a hot bath. In fact, while fighting with the Maquis, he was damn lucky to grab a shower once, maybe twice, a week. But now, it seemed like he had all the time in the world. And that's what worried him. All the time in the world, and yet the quality of his life might never be the same again. Oh, he'd heard what the Doctor had said. Even understood most of it. Complete reintegration was possible; he just needed some more time. But the Doctor had been somewhat vague as to the actual amount of time his recovery would require. Of course, by the time they all made it back to Earth, he would probably be just fine. He hoped.
"Hey, don't fall asleep on me because I'm not picking you up," Paris' voice interrupted Chakotay's thoughts.
The commander opened his eyes. "You still here," he mumbled, glancing toward the counter.
"Yeah." And then he laughed. "Sorry I'm not Torres."
Chakotay grinned. "Not half as sorry as I am."
They both sat in silence for several moments, and then Chakotay shrugged his shoulders. "So, how long am I supposed to sit here?"
Paris' face clouded slightly with confusion. "Hell, I don't know. The captain just said to put you in; she didn't say when to take you out. I guess when the water gets cold."
Chakotay nodded in agreement. "Makes sense."
Paris slid off the side of the counter and began to pace back and forth. "You just let me know. Relax, but remember I've got that-"
"You've got that date. I remember." Chakotay leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.
~vVv~