Absolute Power, Chapter 6
DEMENTED
**48 hours later, afternoon**
Kathryn Janeway was incensed.
She knew Kel'kar'vheel had lied to her.
The minute the away team was located and brought back to the ship, she'd known something had gone severely wrong. And all it had taken was those few moments she'd chosen to go and check on their status in the Sickbay when he'd decided to disappear behind her back.
That filthy back-stabbing coward, her nostrils flared.
Her fury had erupted in full force after that as she'd thrown out all the Zokaa'rian personnel present on Voyager. No one could question the cause of that anger. It was more than justified. After all, prior to the away team's location, the Voyager crew had been treated like criminals themselves—a fact Kathryn had relentlessly begged the local authorities to change and fought with the Guard Patrol to show forbearance for. But now that Chakotay and Tom were back on board, it had been plainly made clear that they had all been grossly mistreated. The Sovereignty was fittingly mortified at how they had dealt with her crew.
However, now the only answer she was getting from the Kel'zian diplomatic channels was that His Excellency was busy conferring with the Zokaa'rian High Council on the status of the Voyager dilemma.
The Zokaa'rian High Council be damned, she snarled as her grip on the coffee mug tightened. She could not believe how mad she was, how much this situation upset her. How many times was she going to come across men who would cross her, disobey her and disregard her position just because they had failed to realize the power in her disposition? Her teeth gritted, and she felt the mug shake in her hand. How many times?
But she knew what hurt worse, what made her even more infuriated. It was facing the profaned depravation of infidelity from the one she'd trusted more than anyone else—the one who'd promised to share her burden and vowed to stand by her side till the end of times.
That betrayal was like being slapped in the face. That lie made her want to smash the face that had dared give her this ultimate deception.
Chakotay. She felt her breath catch in her throat, as the pain and anger sank into her senses. How could he break the confidence they had forged together while crossing all those intimate lines in the privacy of their quarters? How dare he cheat on her, go behind her back? How dare he even touch another person without her permission? She felt sickened—disgusted beyond belief. How many times would she cross paths with heretics who would dispute the magnificence she was born to lead with?
HOW MANY TIMES!
With a screeching shout, Kathryn yanked back her arm and with full force threw the glass mug at the far wall of her quarters—watching as it smashed into smithereens.
Broken. Just like her heart. Jagged and prickly, shards of glass.
Her heart thudding loud, she tried to bring her breathing under control. Dammit, she had to get a grip on herself. She had to look at things rationally.
Hadn't the Doctor said it was the drugs that had made Chakotay act the way he had? That mélange of wayward alien microscopic toxins, which had given Chakotay and Tom's nervous systems a blow unlike any they'd ever known before. It was clear that what he'd done with Tom had only been influenced by drugs and hadn't meant ANYTHING. He'd just been out of his mind. That's all.
Why else would he choose to have sex with Tom? She snorted. Of all the people to choose: Tom Paris. Tom was someone Chakotay couldn't even stand. She'd made sure of that. What had he called Tom to her? Her pet reclamation project? He hated Tom. He detested him. And Tom detested him. These two couldn't even stand to be in the same room together. And they'd had sex in that alien prison?
Kathryn's eyes narrowed as she analyzed the data at her disposal.
Yes, she had to think things clearly. It had been two days since the away team had returned to Voyager. Both Chakotay and Tom had been released from Sickbay the previous night. She had had enough time at her disposal to figure out a way to approach her line of questioning.
Besides, this wasn't the first time she'd faced a betrayal from someone she'd trusted. The last time she'd come across a similar situation, facing treachery at the hands of those she'd entrusted with her deepest beliefs, she'd taken payback with interest. And then some more.
Kathryn Janeway smiled.
Yes, she knew exactly which way to go now. When faced with a particularly complex deception, there were really only two options.
Make the person admit their guilt.
Or make them pay with blood.
**Evening**
His thoughts running in an endless tortuous loop, Chakotay sat on the floor of his living room, his head in his hands, his back against the couch, his mind lost in commotion.
From his reaction to Tom's outburst on their first night in the Xaoln prison to Tom's arrival in the second cell to save him two nights later, every word he'd spoken, every touch he'd felt, every breath he'd taken seemed entrenched, engraved, and encased within his soul.
Even though his body still cringed at the fleeting memories of the Xaoln violation of his mind, foremost on his mind was the feeling of that sudden and complete safety that Tom's touch had evoked in him. His gentle exploring hands, his shouted desperate pleas, his softly voiced entreaties—all of them filled Chakotay's senses with a tingle unlike any he'd ever felt in his life. Pain and love and agony and hope and doubts crashed into him from all sides like a serrated mesh of bewilderment—his thoughts wrangling and twisting at the disarray they found him in.
It was the drugs, the Doctor had said. The alien toxins were responsible, nothing more, he'd said. They should soon be back to normal, he'd assured.
Such vicious jokes life played with you sometimes, Chakotay bit his lips. He had been a fool for many people in his life and he couldn't believe he was going to have to live this lie as well. No matter how much he didn't want to believe what the Doctor was saying, how could he dispute the evidence? The medical scans said it clearly. What they had gone through had been the physiological response of the intoxicants they'd found themselves subjected to. Nothing more.
Tom had only done what he had because he was driven by guilt for what he'd said to him earlier.
Chakotay had told Tom that he didn't owe him anything, but Tom had disagreed. He was sorry for what he'd said and that misplaced sense of culpability had forced him to do what he had. The only reason he'd had sex with Chakotay was because he'd thought he'd mistreated him and he wanted to make things better.
But then Chakotay had such a large hand in placing all that blame on Tom in the first place, didn't he?
His lips caught between his teeth, Chakotay found himself agonizing over the damning things he'd said to Tom in their first conversation. God, he gritted his teeth, how could he have placed the whole damn mess on Tom's head like that? How could he have censured Tom for never coming to him to clear the air, when he himself had never sat down to talk to him?
Instead of ignoring the younger man's ravings like the drunken drivel that they actually were, he'd lashed back at him with all his anger, heaping up all those accusations that were nothing more than his immature reaction to what was clearly an insecurity issue on Tom's part. All those things he'd said, dammit, how could he have misjudged things so badly?
Tom had been hurt, he'd been drugged, he'd certainly not been in his senses, and all Chakotay had thought of was how Tom's frenzied condemnations had dug up old wounds that simply had never had the chance to heal properly? Spirits, it wasn't Tom's fault that Janeway hadn't trusted him during the Jonas incident. Why the hell did he say all that to Tom then? What purpose did it serve? Tom had been in shock, for God's sake, he probably didn't even know what bullshit he was spewing.
What other proof could Chakotay want of Tom's loyalty towards him? Tom had showed up in that filthy cell swarming with the Xaolns to save his ass. Tom had given him his body, had made love to him. So wrong, Chakotay groaned, he'd been so wrong.
He felt his frown deepen. Was it just guilt? Or was there something more? What message had those blue eyes been giving him when they'd locked with his own in Sickbay when he'd woken up? Not a word had been spoken between them but then perhaps none had been needed. Perhaps, Tom was feeling as confused by the turn of events as Chakotay himself was. Perhaps it was just the proof of a physical touch—those warm fingers in Chakotay's hair—which Tom had needed to assure himself that all was well in the universe.
Chakotay shook his head to clear the chaos building inside. He just couldn't understand why mere guilt would make Tom go to such lengths to make up with him? Could he possibly be wrong about Tom's reasons for doing what he had? He had been wrong about Tom before. Was it possible that Tom had risked his own well being for Chakotay because there was more going on than he saw right now?
Spirits, could he dare to place his trust in those hands again?
Like a gust of fresh, scented air, flowing down a hill on a riverside, that crazy hope filled Chakotay's every breath, every pore—electrifying every nerve ending.
He raised his head and stared at the closed doors of his quarters.
No. He was not going to disregard what Tom had shared with him simply because it was safer territory to retreat into. He was going to find out what was going on in Tom's head.
He was going to talk to Tom. Now.
B'Elanna Torres watched Tom's eyes drop from their scrutiny of the star view outside his window, and turn to her.
The blue depths were shimmering with an emotion she'd never seen on his face before—something solemn, something almost earnest, and unlike anything she was used to dealing with when in his presence.
Tom Paris had always been a playful guy. He liked laughing at people, loved poking fun at himself, and took constant delight in joking around with everyone and everything on Voyager. As far as she knew Tom Paris didn't do earnest very well.
But then, with Tom she'd never faced a situation quite as… profound as the one she was facing now. It was a situation of outright dishevelment. This had the potential of changing everything in her life.
"I didn't mean to do this behind your back, B'Elanna."
The words were said quietly but B'Elanna felt as if they filled all her senses, inundated her whole being. For a moment it was as if there was no other sound left in the whole universe. Just these ten words, thrown out in the open: this all-encompassing, life-altering dilemma.
Who was she really kidding? Could she lie to Tom and put the blame on him? Could she lie to herself and ignore the past three weeks? Could she lie to—
She stopped the mental barrage, her breath suddenly catching in her throat. Oh no, not right now, she couldn't go there right now.
She looked at Tom. "You didn't." She swallowed. "You didn't break up with ME, Tom."
His face was contorted with anguish. "But that's it, isn't it? I hadn't broken up with you and yet…"
She stared into his eyes. "Yet what?" Was he going to blame this whole mess on himself after all? "You didn't have a choice, did you?"
"And yet…" His face was flushed pink as he stared deep into her eyes, his blue eyes suddenly clear, not a shadow of doubt clouding them. "I fell for him, head over heels."
For a moment, she felt lost in his gaze.
Love? This was about love?
She found herself at a loss for words. It suddenly occurred to her that his anguish was because of what he was feeling for… him. If this was love, then Tom's love was anguish. She had never known love to be painful. What she'd had with Tom had never been painful. It had been fun, joyous, mostly convenient, at times irritating, and recently an annoyance. It had never made her feel agonized, anguished, or heart-wrenched.
Even the discomfort she was feeling right now was not because of what he'd done, but because of whom he had done it with. B'Elanna shook her head—Kahless, could she get any more clichéd than that? And did she even have the right to question what he'd done? After all, she knew the shit they had gone through down there. It wasn't like they had had a choice. It had been such a close fucking call.
But her discomfort was private, untouched by anyone. Even unnoticed by the man she had come to break up with.
"One minute we were yelling at each other." Tom was in his own world, pacing his living room, wringing his hands. "I was digging up every filthy dirty argument and misunderstanding from our past to stack up as accusations against him…" His voice was hoarse, his breath short. "And the next minute… he was there and he was hurt." Tom stopped and turned to look at her, grimacing. "And I knew I had wronged him, terribly, perhaps irreparably, and I had to do something, anything, to save him, to help him…"
B'Elanna felt her throat get tight. "Tom…"
"Because I knew he would've done the same for me." Tom's eyes shone with moisture. "In fact he got in worse trouble because the idiot thought he was trying to save me." Tom gritted his teeth. "Even after all that I'd said to him, all that I'd done to him, he was trying to save ME." Tom's voice was pure disbelief.
But B'Elanna could relate to it one hundred percent. She knew the man very well. "Sounds like Chakotay," she said, and she suddenly realized that she could say his name after all without folding in on herself. She could even say it with the same glimmer of love and loyalty she always associated with him in her heart.
"He really got hurt, B'El." Tom stared at her. "They hurt him, and they wanted to hurt him even worse."
She knew that. She's read the reports.
"But you stopped them," she told him, her voice firm. "You helped him."
She also knew if she didn't stop this damn guilt routine right now, Tom would literally drown in self-recrimination. He was that kind of a guy too.
"What are you going to do?" she asked him, when he didn't reply.
"I am…" he leaned back against the wall, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his brow furrowed. "I want to…" he lowered his eyes for a moment and then brought them up to look at her. "I want to make it work, B'Elanna. I want to tell him everything, tell him how I really feel." He closed his eyes for a second and breathed hard. "God, I love him."
So he could say the word for Chakotay far easier than he ever said anything for her. Hell, he'd never said it to her, period. She fought hard to keep her face calm. She was damned if she was going to let stupid hopeless thoughts of 'what-ifs' make this situation any worse for any of them.
"Can you believe this?" He was looking into her eyes now, his expression awed. "I love Chakotay. I didn't mean to fall in love with him, didn't know I was capable of something like this, but I am, God I am."
He was admitting that he'd thought he could never fall in love. Not with her, that is. At least he was being honest, unlike her—B'Elanna felt a bitter laugh gurgling in her throat and swiftly swallowed it.
"You never expect to fall in love, Tom," she said plainly, telling him the truth. "It just happens."
But there was something in his eyes. A quiet simmering realization that he knew what she was feeling.
"I never wanted to hurt you, B'Elanna," he said.
"You didn't, you idiot." She snorted, suddenly wanting to dispel any notion that she was wronged in anyway. "I dumped YOU first, remember?"
Still Tom looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking. His eyes probed hers a long moment, that knowing look stamped on his face, and then slowly, quietly he nodded. B'Elanna watched a strange uncertainly replace the sureness in his eyes.
"What's bothering you?" she asked.
Tom shook his head, swallowed, raised his hand to run it through his hair, and then sighed. "I don't think… he trusts me yet."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean…" He took a deep breath and looked at her. "He trusted me with his body but he doesn't trust me with his heart yet." That hint of guilt again as his lips pressed together. "And how can I blame him? I hurt him so much, I was such a jerk."
"But you went back for him after that, didn't you?" B'Elanna said. "He knows you came for him."
"He doesn't trust me, B'Elanna," Tom insisted, his brow wrinkled. "Not with his heart."
"Well, you won't find out for sure until you speak with him, will you?" she stared at him, her voice insistent, urging.
And that was the ultimate test, wasn't it? Was Tom going to treat Chakotay with the same indifference that she'd treated Tom with or was he going to pursue the man with all his heart? Would he back off and hide at the first sign of trouble or would he take the risk?
The door chime took them out of their thoughts, hers bordering on exasperation, his undoubtedly troubled—and with a staggering sigh, Tom straightened his stance, turned towards the entrance and called out, "Come."
The door opened to reveal the object of their conversation: Chakotay.
B'Elanna felt her eyes widen at the sight of the man, standing there, his hands pressed to his sides. This was the first time she'd seen him since he'd been released from Sickbay. Her eyes searched his face, his posture, for any signs of distress, any hints of pain or lingering illness. He looked exhausted, his face pale. She felt her heart turn in her chest.
"Chak…" Tom looked equally stunned to see him there.
Chakotay's mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, and then his gaze fell on B'Elanna, and in that one moment, she caught a glimpse of the bedlam within his soul. His startled eyes suddenly filled with a strange array of emotions—sorrow, guilt, hope, despair—and she watched him physically attempt to calm his appearance, to smooth out his expression. His mouth worked for a moment, and then his eyes turned to Tom again.
"I… I am sorry, Tom…" he said, his dark eyes darting to her face for a second, "B'Elanna, I didn't mean to disturb you two. I just…" His brow wrinkled for a moment and then smoothed out as he swallowed. "Please excuse me."
"No, wait," Tom called out, his voice urgent, as he took a step forward. "Chak…"
"No," Chakotay staggered back, his hands in front of him, as if he wanted to stop Tom from coming any closer. "Please…" His body language screamed desperation. "Not now. I'll talk to you later, Tom, later."
And then with one more look in her direction, he turned around and was gone. The door swished shut behind him.
"Chak!" Tom cried out at the closed door, taking one more step, and then swung around, his hands balled into fists. "DAMMIT," he cried.
"Tom…" B'Elanna sighed.
"What did I tell you, B'El?" He groaned. "He does NOT trust me."
"Would you shut the hell up?" she growled and huffed when he looked up at her with startled eyes. "Look," she said, "he was just spooked to see me here, okay? Give him a little time to settle down and then go after him, clear everything up with him. It's simple."
Tom snorted. "Easier said than done."
"Love isn't supposed to be easy, Tom." She gritted her teeth, ignoring the bitterness she felt at saying the words. "It's your call. You said you want to make it work." Her eyes locked with his blue ones. "Well, news flash, flyboy: you have to WORK in order to make it work."
Chakotay found himself in Observation Lounge three, Deck 6.
How conveniently he had forgotten B'Elanna, he thought, shaking his head in disbelief. His thoughts in turmoil, he felt a dull throbbing pain begin in his temples.
His mind had focused solely on Tom, converged entirely on what he wanted to resolve with the younger man, and like a selfish bastard, he'd completely blanked out B'Elanna from the equation.
So what if he'd known ages ago that she'd wanted to break things off with Tom? So what if she'd even come to him to discuss the situation two weeks ago? He was more than just a commander to her, more than just a fellow Maquis. He was family. She was like a sister. She always discussed things with him, always asked his opinion on matters most important to her.
Tom had been one such matter.
She had come to Chakotay to sort out her jumbled feelings about Tom. He'd even asked her to try, Chakotay snorted, to give Tom another chance. But she had said she couldn't lie to Tom anymore, couldn't keep him or herself hanging on that thread any longer.
He knew her well enough to know when she had made up her mind. He had realized then that Tom and B'Elanna were over.
And thus, with that knowledge safe in his heart, he had utterly put that matter out of his conscious mind. Even when Tom had brought it up their first night in the prison, he'd declined to talk about it because he felt it was an issue which only B'Elanna and Tom should discuss. He was just a counselor, a mentor to her. He could listen to her rants but he could not discuss them with anyone else. Not even with Tom. Especially not with Tom.
But like an idiot, he had also completely disregarded the possibility of her discontent with what he and Tom had gone through down there.
How could he have ignored that? Spirits, she had obviously not broken off with Tom before they'd gone down to Kel'nohr. They had issues to resolve, things to clear up.
Had she changed her mind about Tom?
He reached the viewport and stared out at the station. What was Tom thinking about right now? Chakotay's brow wrinkled. What was going to happen?
He leaned against the window, his elbow pressed to the pane, and tried to calm his jangling nerves.
Kathryn knew Chakotay wouldn't have stayed locked up in his quarters for long. The Doctor had ordered both he and Tom to "Rest from their ordeal uninterrupted for at least forty-eight hours," and Chakotay had apparently had enough after the first day.
Well, good for him, she thought, as she quietly entered the observation lounge—her eyes quickly fixing on the sight of his broad frame against the starlit viewport. Now he'd get a chance to explain his actions to her.
"It's a thrilling feeling, isn't it?" she said, her voice cold.
With a visible start, Chakotay turned around and the same innocently startled expression came on his face that she'd seen a thousand times. Oh yes, he loved doing the innocent routine, didn't he?
"Captain." He looked at her, his brown eyes wide. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I am sure you didn't, Chakotay." Kathryn tried to keep her voice normal but a strange bitterness still crept into it. "You have your eyes and ears glued elsewhere these days."
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
She scowled at his intrinsic stupefaction. "You didn't answer my question."
His eyes insolently narrowed. "Which was?"
"The thrill you must've felt," she chewed every word. "The utterly magnificent, undeniably sinful shiver your contemptuous conduct must've given you. Tell me, how does it feel?"
He stared at her in bafflement. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, don't be so naïve, Chakotay." She sneered, "The whole ship knows how you used your position of authority to force a subordinate into having sex with you."
His mouth dropped open in yet another parody of stupid disbelief. "Forced? This is a joke, right?"
"Oh, I've never been more serious." Kathryn felt contempt fill her bones. "Tell me how I'm supposed to enforce discipline on the ship when my First Officer sets such a crude and wholly reprehensible example."
"Reprehensible?" he spat, outraged. "You're out of your fucking mind. You KNOW what happened down there."
Kathryn felt her hackles rise. "That is no WAY to talk to your captain, Mister," she growled. "And I know EXACTLY what happened. You, with your insipid lack of intellect, created circumstances down there that brought Tom Paris into a situation where he was forced to perform sexual favors for you."
"I created the situation?" He shook his head, obviously still not ready to see the light. "I almost DIED down there. Tom saved my life."
"What else was he supposed to do?" she grated. "He remembered your life-debt to him, that antiquated tribal custom you'd bound him to six years ago." Her eyes narrowed as her brain aptly joined the dots of the puzzle. "How clever," she drawled. "How utterly ingenious of you. You had an epiphany six years ago and look at the situation NOW. How convenient, I must say."
Chakotay suddenly snorted, his manner disgustingly discourteous. "Kathryn, you're insane!"
"I am PERFECTLY sane," she snarled. "Don't you even know what you've DONE? You've used Tom Paris, and by doing so have destroyed a beautiful, flourishing relationship between him and the woman you dare to call your best friend."
A shadow passed over Chakotay's face and she knew she'd scored a point. This was the line of reasoning she had to pursue to bring him to his knees.
"What happened between Tom and B'Elanna is their private matter," he was saying, his voice shaking. "It has NOTHING to do with YOU." His face twisted in anger. "And what happened between Tom and I has got nothing to do with you either. It's none of your concern."
"What about what exists between you and ME, Chakotay?" Her voice shook. "Does it concern me, tell me this?"
"What are you talking about?" he frowned at her.
She let all her pain and agony show on her face. "How could you be so heartless, Chakotay?" Her brow creased. "You do this with all the women in your life, don't you? You make them fall in love with you and then you leave them. First Seska, then B'Elanna, and now me."
As she'd expected, hearing B'Elanna's name made him blank everything else out. His eyes widened.
"B'Elanna?" he started, his disbelief obvious. "B'Elanna is like a sister to me. She's never… I've never…"
She cut him off in the middle. "And of course YOU were BLIND to her devotion to you all these years. Everyone knows she only went with Tom because she couldn't have you. He was her second choice."
And it wasn't like she was making it all up. Years ago, during the Botha incident, Kathryn had recognized B'Elanna's… need for Chakotay. As a woman, Kathryn knew that his appeal, while not all that intellectually stimulating, was at the very least physically stirring. Those rugged good looks, that ever-present smile which he flashed at everyone and everything that moved, had stolen many a heart.
However, B'Elanna had never made a move on him and all these years, Kathryn had known Chakotay had never made a move on anyone else on the ship—which was the way she liked it. Like all men, he was much easier to control when he was lonely and pining after her as he was supposed to. This vision of an independent Chakotay, who actually had someone else wanting him back, did not appeal to her at all.
And like always, all she had to do was throw a new bone at him and he'd forget the last one. Hearing Tom's name threw him off track yet again.
"You've lost your mind," he said, his face tight. "Tom was not second choice to her. B'Elanna cared about him."
"And that's why you took even HIM away from her." She glared at Chakotay. "Who would've known…" her voice dripped hatred, "…that such a mild-mannered man would play such cruel mind games?"
His mouth worked in utter unbelief. "Mind games?"
"Pulling everyone on a string," she huffed. "Playing with their deepest and most vulnerable emotions."
His mouth tightened. "You're irrational!"
She ignored the slur and marched on, her objective clear in her mind. "But I am not like everyone else, Chakotay," she softened her tone. This was the time to switch the game plan. "I can still give you a second chance."
He stared at her. "Second chance?"
"Yes," she said. "You just have to renew your promise to me. You have to make good on it once and for all."
"What promise are you talking about?"
"Your oath, Chakotay." She took a step closer. "Your noble, wretched oath to me." She felt her breath catch as the reality of his betrayal again clawed at her soul. "You said you'd stay by my side till the end of times, Chakotay. You said you'd share my burden. Did you forget that promise, that most intimate of vows that you made with your Kathryn?"
His face was strangely pale. "My… pledge to you was a PROFESSIONAL one. And I've fulfilled it completely." His brow wrinkled. "You never wanted a relationship, remember? You didn't want to alter the parameters. Kathryn, you made it clear years ago. You didn't want me."
"Is sex all you can think about?" she shouted, as disdain filled her heart. "I am the captain. I follow the hierarchy which all captains follow and that hierarchy entails strict adherence to protocols that divided the two of us from ever conceiving a bonding in flesh, Chakotay. But we did have a bonding of souls, of minds, didn't we? This beautiful… majestic… intimate fealty you molded for me."
"Bonding? Fealty?" He stared at her in incredulity. "We were friends, Kathryn, nothing more. We could never be anything beyond that. You showed it by your actions." His voice rose in volume. "What is WRONG with you?"
So now he was going to outright deny everything that had existed between them? Kathryn felt her body shaking in anger as tears flooded her eyes. "Nothing between us?" She felt a familiar twitch in her left cheek as pain filled her chest. "Have you been BLIND? I've wanted you, I've craved you with every inch of my soul…"
He shook his head, his face unbelieving. "NO! That's not true."
"…with every inch of my being…" She took another step forward.
He clenched his teeth. "Kathryn…"
And suddenly she couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take this denial, this betrayal, this lying, this pathetic unbelievable posturing. With an enraged shout, she jumped on the man she'd called her friend for six years.
"HOW DARE YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME?" she shouted, her fingers clawing at his shirt.
"Kathryn!" He staggered back at her forceful assault, his eyes wide. "STOP IT."
"HOW DARE YOU!" she snarled, her fingernails digging into his arm as she pinned him against the wall.
Her breath heaving, her eyes wide with disbelief, she watched as he rudely grabbed her slight shoulders and shook her violently—like an animal.
"STOP IT," he shouted.
She felt her nails cut into the cloth of his shirt and dig into the flesh of his arm and the sensation of blood spurting out made her shiver with an oddly triumphant feeling—fueling her rage even more.
But he was shaking her harder; his face contorted with fury as he grabbed her and turned her around, pushing her against the wall.
"STOP IT," he yelled in her face, his gleaming dark eyes suddenly hideous with anger. "STOP IT BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF, KATHRYN!"
Her throat tight with hatred, she raised her hand to slap his face but he caught her wrist in a death grip. "You bastard!" she growled.
"You've become unhinged, Captain." He pressed his lips together. "I suggest you check yourself into Sickbay. The events of the last few days have obviously affected your senses."
Such contemptible impertinence, Kathryn felt her mouth twist in repulsion. "You'll regret this, you sonofa—"
"This conversation is OVER!" he interrupted her with a tightening grip on her shoulders as he pressed her further into the wall.
And for one moment, he was implacable and dark and dangerous, and Kathryn felt the same disgust for him now that she'd felt for him when he'd appeared on Voyager's Bridge for the first time. That shameless Maquis traitor. "Stay the hell AWAY from me." He emphasized each word, his nostrils flaring.
And then he backed away, and without another word, turned around and walked out of the lounge.
She stared at the closed doors and felt a new wave of painful loathing simmering inside her.
She was going to make him pay, she promised herself.
With a heave, she pulled herself together, shrugged back into a semblance of normality, and stalked out of the lounge.
However, in her distressed state, she never noticed the metal grate shifting back into place, once again covering the ventilation shaft in the ceiling—as her shocked audience came out of a trance and slowly crawled out of the Jeffries tube.
**Night**
Tom knew B'Elanna was right.
He had to go after Chakotay. He had to clear everything up with him, get everything out in the open.
That was his only choice, probably his only chance as well. If he had any hope in hell of making this thing work with Chakotay, he had to be completely honest with him. He knew what he wanted; his objective was clear in his heart and in his mind. Now he just had to work up the courage to lay it all out in front of Chakotay.
When B'Elanna left, he took a few moments to gather his thoughts, and then went looking for the man. However, the location check on Chakotay's position led him to an empty turbolift where he found a combadge lying on the floor.
And suddenly, Tom knew something was wrong.
Had Chakotay been so upset at what he'd seen—or rather what he thought he'd seen—in Tom's quarters that he had decided to go into hiding? Was he trying to avoid being found by Tom? That was so unlike Chakotay. It just didn't make sense.
Dammit, Tom shook his head—didn't Chakotay know he had other ways of zeroing in on locations?
However, Tom soon realized they didn't call Chakotay the Mystic Warrior just for fun. As he accessed the computer and discreetly ran search patterns for Chakotay's life signs, he found the subroutine ending in the middle of the loop, leaving the search incomplete and him exasperated. After several dozen tries, which took nearly an hour, the closest he could get was to discover Chakotay's vague location was somewhere in the lower five decks.
Tom resorted to manual searching—going through every public location, and a few private ones as well. Ignoring irritated Fleeters and Maquis whom he disturbed, he strategically went through all rooms, all quarters, apologizing for his intrusion but promising it was for the good of the ship.
He felt himself sag with relief when he finally found Chakotay, sitting on the floor of a tiny lounge just outside the Escape Pods access on Deck 14, staring out of the window.
For a moment, Tom stood quietly and watched the man's stance, noting the tension in his frame. Then he took a deep breath and carefully approached him.
"There you are," he said, keeping his voice soft and casual, even if his heart skidded relentlessly in his chest.
There was no answer and he saw no change in Chakotay's posture at the sound of his voice—undoubtedly he already knew Tom was there.
Doesn't matter, big guy, Tom thought, I'm not going anywhere without laying all my cards on the table.
He settled down next to Chakotay on the floor, pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. For a short while, he stared at the sight of the Zokaa'rian station outside the tiny porthole. Many security ships were presently docked at the station, for Voyager's sake—the events of the last few days had shaken up the whole Sovereignty.
With a sigh, he turned to his silent companion. "I've been looking for you all over the ship."
There was again no response. He saw the adam's apple bob in the strong throat.
"Here," he offered the combadge to Chakotay, "I think you left your combadge in the turbolift."
"Not a very smart move, I guess," Chakotay muttered, his tone grim, his voice strangely hoarse. "I should've chucked it out of an airlock." He sounded disgusted.
Tom felt his breathing quicken. "Chakotay?"
"No." Chakotay shook his head as he sighed. "It's all right. I'm not mad at you."
But he kept his eyes to the front, still not looking at him. Tom felt something turn inside him.
"Chakotay…"
"Tom, what the hell are you doing here?" Chakotay suddenly snapped, as if he had known an objection was coming and wanted to get on the offensive first. "You should be—"
"I should be what?" Tom interrupted him. "With B'Elanna?"
A frown appeared on Chakotay's face and keeping his eyes averted, he attempted to get up, his body rigid.
"Wait." Tom grabbed his arm and pulled him down again. "You're not going anywhere, Chak. Not until you've heard everything I have to say."
Now Chakotay looked at him and the anguish in his eyes staggered Tom. "What is there to say, Tom?"
Tom felt his throat tighten. Chakotay really had misunderstood everything. He bit his lips. "What you saw in my quarters meant nothing, Chakotay."
Chakotay closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he shook his head. "Tom…"
"B'Elanna came to tell me she'd broken up with me."
After an initial struggle, Tom watched as those eyes opened and Chakotay stared at him—a strange look on his face.
Tom looked into the brown eyes. "You… knew, didn't you?" Realization suddenly dawned. "That was what you didn't want to mention on the planet, when we were in the prison, wasn't it? She had told you." Tom gripped Chakotay's other arm, trying to turn him towards him. "What did you think, Chak, that after everything we'd been through together down there, I'd come back and patch things up with B'Elanna?"
Chakotay pulled out his arms out of Tom's grasp. "It doesn't matter what I think."
"But it does, Chak. What you think and how you feel does matter." Tom felt his voice shaking and tried to control it. "I want to know what you think. I need to."
"Why, Tom?" There was pain in those eyes and Tom wondered if he was still the cause of it. "What difference does it make?"
Tom felt despair closing in and sucked in a staggering breath. "You're still mad at me."
Chakotay bit his lip as he closed his eyes again, the anguish on his face apparent.
"What you said down there…" Tom continued. "About trusting me—was it true, Chak?"
The deep brown eyes opened. "Tom…"
"Chak, tell me this, was I really the biggest fucking fool in the galaxy?" Tom felt his throat closing. "Is it true that I had something right in front of me, and I didn't see it? Did I really misunderstand you so… fucking badly?"
Chakotay stared at him, his eyes sparkling and wide. "Tom…"
"Because… because I think I'm in love with you." Tom struggled to get the words out. "Are you listening to me, Chak? I am in love with you." His voice hoarse, he did as he'd planned to do—let it all out in the open. "I… want to be with you. I can't stop thinking about you, Chakotay. I just can't. And I need to know how you feel about that."
Chakotay's expression was tormented. "Oh… Tom."
Still no words. Nothing positive. Nothing hopeful.
"Don't you… have anything at all to say?" he felt his breath stop.
And suddenly, Chakotay was staring deeply into his eyes and hands were reaching out to grab his wrist. "Tom, oh God," he started. "I can't… not right now, I just can't… think about this right now."
"You…" Tom felt the walls closing in on him. "You don't want to…"
"NO!" Chakotay said forcefully and then struggled to lower his volume. "This has nothing—please, Tom…" Chakotay gripped Tom's wrist tightly. "Try to understand. This has NOTHING to do with you or B'Elanna. Nothing."
Tom felt his eyes narrow. "Chak…"
"What I want to say to you…" Chakotay said. "What I sincerely want to say… I can't right now." He grabbed Tom's shoulder. "KNOW THIS: I can't."
And all of a sudden, Tom knew Chakotay was telling the truth. This wasn't about him or B'Elanna. "What in the hell happened?" he asked. He'd seen Chakotay an hour or so ago. What could've happened between then and now?
Chakotay shook his head as he dropped his hands and pulled away. "I can't…"
"Chakotay—"
"I can't…"
"But Chak," Tom reached out and then his eyes widened at the sudden flush on Chakotay's face as the older man jumped up—his face twisted in anger and anguish—and screamed.
"I CAN'T TAKE THIS."
Stunned, Tom watched as the older man bent down and grabbed the stool right next to him, picked it up high in the air and brought it down on the glass table top, shattering it to pieces.
In alarm, Tom too jumped up.
Again, Chakotay raised the stool, "I CAN'T!" and brought it down a second time, this time hitting a chair.
"CHAK!" Tom shouted, feeling his spine turn cold at the display of fury and distress.
"I CAN'T!" Again, Chakotay raised the stool and banged it into a second chair. "I fucking CAN'T!"
"CHAKOTAY!"
The second shout seemed to rip through Chakotay's haze like a blast of phaser fire.
He froze in mid-movement, and stood there, shaking—as if woken from a nightmare, the stool gripped in his hands, his chest heaving with exertion. He stared at Tom as if seeing him for the first time and felt his face twist in torment. "Please Tom," he said. "Not right now. Don't ask me… any questions."
He heard Tom take a deep breath. "Okay," the younger man said, his voice soft, soothing. "All right." Chakotay saw Tom cautiously reach out, and tried not to jump when he felt the warm hand touch his arm. "Shh. It's all right. I won't ask you anything right now," Tom murmured. "I promise."
He felt overwhelmed by this dichotomy. On one hand was anger raging inside his heart that made him want to pound someone to a pulp and on the other there was the heartrending tenderness in Tom's words that made his breath stick in his throat. Feeling his body slackening, Chakotay slowly let the stool slip out of his hands and fall to the floor.
Tom gripped his arm. "You're coming with me now."
He felt himself tense. "Tom—"
The younger man's fingers linked through his. "I said I wouldn't ask anything. But that doesn't stop me from being worried sick about you."
Chakotay shook his head. "There's no need to…"
"Oh no?" His words dripping with disbelief, Tom moved to stand in front of him and suddenly Chakotay found himself looking into knowing blue eyes. Tom had such beautiful, thoughtful eyes, thought Chakotay, eyes he simply couldn't hide his pain from anymore. As in the Xaoln prison, his desperation found a cohort in Tom's need to care. "Well, I disagree," Tom said, his face resolute. "And don't you dare complain. Come on."
Chakotay's hand was gripped firmly as he was tugged out of the lounge and he found that he couldn't complain, couldn't stop Tom. His mind numb, he felt his chest constricted with pain at the memory of all that Kathryn had said to him, and after his furious eruption of moments ago, he felt depleted, empty.
What did Tom really see in this shell of a man? Why was he being so nice to him? Was it true that Tom loved him? Chakotay felt his insides brim with a fusion of arrant longing and utter anguish. But why would he love him? What was the purpose? What could Chakotay, who wasn't even trusted by his own damn captain, possibly give him in return? Chakotay felt himself stiffen with another wave of anger, as the scurrilous words Kathryn had thrown at him came back to stab him in the heart. It was all bullshit, he thought, such unbelievable crap. Why had she said all that to him? Where had he stumbled, what mistake had he made?
Then they were in the turbolift, and within moments, the car had deposited them at Tom's deck and he found himself led out into the corridor and to the front of Tom's door. He watched as Tom keyed in his code and pulled Chakotay inside.
He had a distant memory of being in Tom's quarters once or twice in the past, but the details of the living room and the rooms beyond held no significance to Chakotay right now. Without warning, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he felt himself staggering back to the wall, as he closed his eyes. He breathed slowly, his stiff body feeling sore.
He felt Tom's hand on his arm again; one warm hand touched his cheek. "Come on, you're going to bed."
With a sigh, he opened his eyes. "Tom…" He wondered if Tom could see the struggle within him through his eyes.
And it seemed that he could.
"You need to rest, Chak," Tom insisted, his own brow creased with concern. "You look like hell…"
And as if that was all the declaration needed, Tom took his hand and guided him into the bedroom—his manner almost clinical. Chakotay was led to the side of the bed and then Tom turned towards him. "Take off your shirt." Chakotay stared blankly at him as if he couldn't understand the language being spoken, and then he felt the gentle tug as his shirttails were pulled out of his trousers. "Here, let me help you."
Within moments, he was stripped to the waist and deposited on top of the bed. He stumbled between the sheets, barely noticing the hardness of the mattress and sank down into the pillows, closing his eyes. Tom was right, he sighed. He was absolutely exhausted. Sleep would be bitter but welcome.
He stirred when he felt the sheets pulled down to his waist but it was the sensation of something warm and silky dribbling down his back which made him want to sit up.
"What the hell…" He tried to look back.
"It's just oil, Chak." He felt gentle hands push him down again. "I'm gonna give you a little massage."
"But Tom…"
"You NEED it…"
And the pads of the warm fingers were tracing the tense tissues of his back, the callused thumbs swiping down his shoulder blades, and he felt his face sink further into the pillows. Oh God, yes, it did feel so good.
But then he felt Tom stop. "SHIT. What's this, Chakotay?"
"What?" he murmured in the pillow.
"There's… there's a deep scratch on your left arm." Tom's voice was shaking.
"And it's BLEEDING."
"Fuck," Chakotay muttered as he felt his body tense once more.
"Who did this?"
Chakotay sighed. "You said you weren't going to ask me any questions."
"Dammit." He heard Tom swear and then those fingers were touching Chakotay's hair, slowly running through the short strands, massaging his scalp. Chakotay swallowed his groan as they reached his neck, gently rubbing the sore muscles. "What the hell happened, Chakotay?"
He just sank his face into his arms.
"Yeah, I know…" He heard Tom mutter, almost bitterly. "I can't ask." There was a pause and then he said. "Here… let me clean this at least."
And those were the only words Tom spoke for a long time.
The scratch was cleaned and regenerated, and soon Tom returned to the task of giving him a massage.
Chakotay felt the strokes begin from the base of his neck, making him sigh, as Tom's hands moved along both sides of his spine. With gentle pressure and constant linear motion, the hands rubbed down his length and then up the sides of his back. Chakotay felt the lightly scented oil spread over his back, rubbed into his tense muscles, as he felt himself unwind like never before. There was nothing overt in Tom's touch, just a gentle stroking of strong hands over stiff muscles—a friend helping another relax, helping him let everything go.
And strangely, in this moment—lying in Tom's bed, breathing deep the familiar masculine scent permeating the sheets and pillows—he could almost let everything go. As if they belonged in another time, in another universe, he could even put Kathryn's words out of his mind. Feeling Tom's hands on his body, those events could be ignored for a short while. For tonight.
He heard himself sigh as the strokes became gentler, felt his eyelids fluttering as a euphoric lethargy filled his bones.
"Better?" Tom whispered in his ear, his hands on Chakotay's shoulder.
"Mmm…" he murmured.
That seemed to be answer enough, for he felt Tom climb in behind him and sighed as he was pulled back into the strong—still fully-clothed—body. The sheets were pulled around them, and he felt Tom spoon behind him, his lean arms wrapping around Chakotay's chest.
"Thank you…" Chakotay mumbled as he felt blessed—not bitter—sleep approaching fast.
Tom's warm breath tickled the back of his neck, as a soft kiss was placed on his skin. "You're welcome…"
And then he was asleep.
Her face calm and her breathing much under control now, Kathryn Janeway walked out into her living room and approached the large viewport.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a green light blinking on her computer console. A message was waiting for her. She frowned. She didn't have time to waste on answering messages right now. Instead, she focused on the ships docked into the station, and as expected, didn't find the black royal vessel that belonged to Kel'kar'vheel there. As the ministers she'd spoken to had told her, the Chieftain was no longer on the station. He was meeting with the System Kings on Asteroid Cluster 5 in the Deb'rar sector.
That was where she would be looking for him.
Her hands on her hips, she stood back and pondered her situation.
Her years long command experience had taught her many things. One was the decree that you should never trust anyone blindly in your professional life. The only person you could truly rely on was yourself. As a captain, your own judgment and abilities were more important than anyone else's opinion. A captain—as a rule—always stood alone.
Her six years in the Delta Quadrant had shown her how true those words had been. Especially in her unique situation where she'd been with a crew that was comprised either of freshly minted Starfleet ensigns or hardened and ruthless Maquis criminals.
She knew the dangers she worked with, knew anything could go wrong at anytime and that it was important to be prepared for any untoward incidents.
The wayward First Officer, for example, could go berserk due to some hidden mental deformities. After all, she had seen signs of it within months of their being in the Delta Quadrant. How could she forget the time Chakotay had stolen a shuttle to go after Seska because she had supposedly humiliated him in front of the whole crew? Or the time he'd let himself get captured and brainwashed by the Vori, creating a diplomatic incident of calamitous proportions with their kind Kradin hosts. Or the incident with the Mars orbiter when he had slovenly put the lives of his entire away team at risk by stranding them within the eclipse.
All of the above incidents could undoubtedly be explained by the recent episode in chaotic space, when medical evidence of Chakotay's true mental illness had finally been laid bare. That supposedly 'dormant' crazy gene—that had nearly driven him out of his mind, when due to his ineffectiveness he had almost caused Voyager's destruction.
This was the reason why Kathryn had made special arrangements to counter the effect of any unforeseen circumstances. From the time she'd joined Starfleet, she had always been cautious about the people she found herself surrounded by. And the incidents of the last few days —though heartbreakingly painful— had proven all her suspicions of years ago.
Chakotay's insolent actions had told her only one thing: Voyager's Maquis crew was irredeemable. Obviously, no amount of leniency and positive experience could housetrain rabid animals.
She turned from the window and again the blinking light caught her attention. What could it be? She hated leaving her work unfinished—another lesson taught by her command experience. Deciding it couldn't take more than a few minutes, she sat down on the chair and clicked the console.
Her eyes widened.
It was a datastream from Starfleet. God, she'd completely forgotten that they had in fact downloaded the latest one a few days ago. Seven must've realized how busy she was and had sent her messages directly to her own console. Kathryn skimmed the long list of messages and suddenly her eyes caught one name.
Admiral Houston.
She frowned. This was a name she hadn't heard in decades. Her heart suddenly beating very fast, she hastily opened the message and started to read.
By the time she was halfway through, dismay had replaced the speculation in her mind and Kathryn Janeway had simply forgotten how to breathe.
Continued in Chap 7
