Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.
*****
"You've gotta help me! Please?" Tom pleaded with the Doctor. Even though his tone had been of mock, melodramatic staging to put on a little show of indifference for the Doc, there was a fundamental honesty in his appeal.
The Doctor was the only person who really knew, or at least could take an educated guess at Tom's situation. The evidence was there for him every time he examined the Ensign, even if for some contrived reason or another it hadn't been entered into his personal records at the time. Yet the Doctor, however blunt or unsubtle some believed him to be, knew his place and had never ventured to discuss the knowledge with Tom, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it, he would have to wait for Tom to approach him. He also knew that the likelihood of that ever happening with Tom would be very, very slim. Likewise, Tom would carry on with the act, under the pretence that there was nothing to know, and that the Doctor didn't know it.
However, Tom had decided that he had the need to try and ask for the Doctor's assistance, and although it was never mentioned, they both knew the underlying reason behind Tom's anxiousness.
"What on earth do you expect me to do?" the Doctor responded tersely.
"Tell him I'm okay. Tell him he can't stay in my quarters. Tell him I have some rare contagious disease, preventing him from sharing my living space - I really don't care! But please, Doc, there must be something you can do?"
"Mister Paris, have you ever tried to deter the Commander in the past, once he has his mind set on something?"
"Yes."
"Have you succeeded?"
"Sometimes."
"Well I have yet to experience such a triumph."
"Then you just don't understand his motivations." Tom answered with a suggestive smile.
The Doctor let out an irritable sigh. "And I think I should prefer that it stayed that way."
"Look, one word from you, and I can get him off my back."
"I'm sorry, Mister Paris, but there really isn't anything I can do." The Doctor stated impatiently. He wasn't going to add that, although he wasn't sure of the Commander's deliberate and hasty methods, he had no intention of preventing the Commander from following up on this; surely it could only be a good thing if maybe Chakotay could actually get through the masquerade and help the man.
*****
"You've gotta help me! Please?" Tom pleaded with the Doctor. Even though his tone had been of mock, melodramatic staging to put on a little show of indifference for the Doc, there was a fundamental honesty in his appeal.
The Doctor was the only person who really knew, or at least could take an educated guess at Tom's situation. The evidence was there for him every time he examined the Ensign, even if for some contrived reason or another it hadn't been entered into his personal records at the time. Yet the Doctor, however blunt or unsubtle some believed him to be, knew his place and had never ventured to discuss the knowledge with Tom, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it, he would have to wait for Tom to approach him. He also knew that the likelihood of that ever happening with Tom would be very, very slim. Likewise, Tom would carry on with the act, under the pretence that there was nothing to know, and that the Doctor didn't know it.
However, Tom had decided that he had the need to try and ask for the Doctor's assistance, and although it was never mentioned, they both knew the underlying reason behind Tom's anxiousness.
"What on earth do you expect me to do?" the Doctor responded tersely.
"Tell him I'm okay. Tell him he can't stay in my quarters. Tell him I have some rare contagious disease, preventing him from sharing my living space - I really don't care! But please, Doc, there must be something you can do?"
"Mister Paris, have you ever tried to deter the Commander in the past, once he has his mind set on something?"
"Yes."
"Have you succeeded?"
"Sometimes."
"Well I have yet to experience such a triumph."
"Then you just don't understand his motivations." Tom answered with a suggestive smile.
The Doctor let out an irritable sigh. "And I think I should prefer that it stayed that way."
"Look, one word from you, and I can get him off my back."
"I'm sorry, Mister Paris, but there really isn't anything I can do." The Doctor stated impatiently. He wasn't going to add that, although he wasn't sure of the Commander's deliberate and hasty methods, he had no intention of preventing the Commander from following up on this; surely it could only be a good thing if maybe Chakotay could actually get through the masquerade and help the man.