Hey! I apologize for taking so long with this part. After exams I needed
some down time away from computers and typing and overall attempts at
thinking. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 4
The sun was hot, there was no breeze, and the uniform he had on was the most uncomfortable, irritating, suffocating material he had ever had the pleasure of wearing. Tom Paris wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and frowned slightly at the small amount of perspiration that came away. Sighing he paused in his harvesting work and slid the upper part of his black jumpsuit off his shoulders and tied it around his waist. The turtleneck he had on underneath did little to help cool down.
He went back to picking the red, coconut like fruit. Every now and then he would pull his sweat soaked shirt away from his equally drenched body and attempt to shake it, trying to create a draft to cool him down. He'd been at it for about four hours now, harvesting his quota of fruits, and he hadn't had a drink since he began. He pricked his index finger on a small thorn and cursed quietly to himself. Then for good measure he cursed the sun and certain members of Voyager that he was currently on the planet with.
Chakotay had contacted him about fifteen minutes before the mission had set off to the planet to inform him ensign Williams had fallen ill and Tom was replacing him as the field medic. That had been fine, he was always ready to get off the confines of the ship and breath some fresh air. However he hadn't had a lot of time to get ready, so when he'd been rushing to astrometrics to get a surface climate reading and Ensign Bristow had stopped him to say it was about fifteen degrees above freezing, he only paused a second. He distinctly remembered saying that was an odd temperature for a vegetable to grow in, and Bristow had shrugged and said it was a weird universe. Tom didn't know why he'd taken the ensigns word, especially considering his current status onboard the ship. People still hadn't forgiven him for acting so.inappropriately towards the Commander.
Things never changed, and on this ship the fact that he was a senior officer as well as a Lieutenant J.G. did not stop the petty jokes, or cruel words. He checked his wrist chronometer. Five hours he'd been working. He wiped his head again and frowned at the lack of sweat. He really needed to get a drink. He noticed Bristow coming towards him carrying a storage container. The man stopped and set it down about ten meters away, where he made a show of peeling off the layers of his summer weather Starfleet issue jumpsuit to a thin white tank top, followed by a long drink of water from a canteen.
Tom unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of water. Now, asking the ensign for some water would just be a joke on himself, so he took a breath and was about to call out to order the ensign to give him a drink when the slightly older man quickly dumped the water over his head, draining it too fast for Tom to stop the action. As the last drop fell the blond man looked at Tom and grinned slightly, shaking his dripping head before he turned and went to work at his selected tree.
Tom counted to ten and tried to ignore the immature man that was only a short distance away. 'I will not kill a fellow officer. I will not kill a fellow officer.I will not kill, maim, damage, threaten, or even pay attention to said fellow officer.' The pilot felt himself clamping his jaw together so tightly that it was beginning to ache. He'd been informed that it would only be a three-hour away mission, and he had therefore neglected to bring water. He swore that the sun was getting hotter and thanked the fact that it was behind him instead of on his face. He didn't want to think about the burn he could be getting right now.
He dropped another ten fruit into his storage container and then closed the full unit up. He looked at the heavy bin in disgust and could feel the pressure in his head mounting surprisingly fast. Well, this was the last bin he needed, he'd already taken nine to the beaming sight and on this trip he'd be able to return. With a longing sigh he bent and picked up the large container, wishing he had some cart to aid him. He stood tall with his burden and walked quickly past Bristow, hoping he didn't look as tired and frustrated as he felt. And after five minutes he was placing his fruit on the beaming site. He almost fell as he gently put it down, and for a brief moment darkness swam before his eyes. He recovered in time to see Chakotay march around a few yellow bushes and head toward him with his own unit. Tom automatically stood taller.
"Lieutenant. Finished for the day?"
"Yes sir." He waited in impatience as the darker skinned man took in his appearance, he noticed the man frown.
"I can't help but notice you're wearing a cold weather uniform."
"That's very perceptive of you sir." Tom replied professionally, hoping to annoy the man enough to get him to drop the subject. For some reason, unlike all the other times, it didn't work.
"Care to explain why? You've got to be roasting in that thing."
"The sauna in my room wasn't working sir, I felt this would be an efficient supplement." Chakotay looked at him strangely and Tom wanted to just tell him to let him get back to the ship before he passed out. God it was hot!
"Did you leave your canteen where you were last harvesting? All equipment must be removed from the surface with departure, as I know you are aware of."
"I am aware of it sir. I don't have a canteen with me."
"Why not?" The ex-Maquis captain sure was inquisitive today. Tom resisted the insubordinate act of glaring at the man. He was hot, dehydrated, dizzy, had a headache that rivalled his worst hangovers and was irritable. He really didn't need this conversation right now.
"I was in a rush to get to the transporter room on time and neglected to obtain one in the first place. May I beam back to the ship now Commander? I'm a little parched as I know you've guessed." Chakotay's frown finally broke into a mild look of annoyance.
"Next time you neglect such necessary items, Lieutenant, I suggest you inform me and we'll have one beamed down. Understood?" Now it was Tom's turn to frown, because that wasn't exactly the harsh reprimand he'd been expecting. "Now, beam back to the ship, and get a drink."
"Yes sir." Chakotay then turned and headed towards Bristow's location, Tom watching him intently until the man disappeared around some trees. When he was gone Tom rolled his eyes towards the sky and made sure the units were in the right spot for transport. It seemed Chakotay was still trying to open up some kind of comradeship with him, and it wasn't that Tom would have normally been abject to seeing whether a friendship could be forged between them, but he knew the only reason Chakotay was making any effort was because he'd seen the burnt tattoo on his back. Tom was not going to accept anything, friendship or other, in these regards. Pity friends, or idealized friends were not something he appreciated. And right now that was what Chakotay was coming across as: he wanted to get to know Tom because of his possibly revealed past, not because of the man himself.
Frustrated and annoyed beyond his norm Tom slapped the commbadge and demanded a beam out. The ensign in the transporter room didn't look too happy with his curt nod hello and brisk exit. He didn't care. He immediately stormed to his room where he stripped on his way to the replicator.
"Computer, decrease temperature 10 degrees." He stopped at the replicator. "Two large glasses of water." They materialized side by side and he picked up one and chugged it ten seconds. He leaned his empty hand on the wall and took several deep gulps of air, steadying his vision, he replaced the first glass and picked up the other. He put it on the coffee table as he stormed by to his room where he slowly dressed into a pair of sweat pants. Foregoing a shirt he headed to the bathroom where he wiped down his neck, chest and arms with a cold, wet cloth. After re-soaking the cloth he went back into his living room and collapsed on his couch, taking his glass of water and draping the cool cloth over his forehead he closed his eyes.
He could feel his first glass of water swishing in his stomach every move and thought he just might throw it up. It was stupid to drink it all at once, but frankly Scarlet, he didn't give a damn. The second glass he sipped very slowly, and occasionally poured a bit to pool on his moulded stomach, and he played with it with his fingers. It was scary how fast his skin sucked the water into it. The pounding in his head was slowly beginning to dissipate when the chine of his door rang. He groaned but didn't move.
He'd forgotten that Harry had told him he'd stop by around six to grab dinner. He really didn't feel up to it, and frankly he probably wouldn't until the next day. He knew how long it would take for him to get his appetite back after dehydration and overheating. Now, should he go throw on a shirt and get up or just stay there like the sick man he was. He opted to stay there. If there was anyone to see him in misery it was Harry, besides, the kid was a good nursemaid on that one occasion when the doc had demanded he'd needed one. The man hadn't even hesitated to volunteer his evening off to watch Tom puke in a toilet and he'd always had a towel ready. He was possibly the best friend Tom had ever had.actually, he was certain of it. The chime rang again, reminding him that he actually had to let the kid in before he could see him. He quietly called out to the computer to allow access and waited with eyes closed for his friend to enter
He heard the door slide open and shut, and then there were footsteps that were heavier than Harry's entering the room. Immediately Tom swung his feet off the couch and sat up, almost ready to face whomever it was that was now in his quarters. However in the process he forgot about the glass balancing on his stomach and it fell, hitting the ground with a thick breaking sound. 'Shit.' He looked up and glared, only to find Chakotay staring at him with worry.
"Commander! I wasn't expecting you. Sorry about the mess." Tom was annoyed with his sluggish movements as the Commander approached slowly, almost cautiously. He went to place his feet down but the Commander stopped him mid-movement.
"Tom stay there! Put your feet up on the couch, I don't want you to cut them on the glass." Tom hesitated a moment before complying. He didn't want to bleed all over his floor. He watched in amazement as the Commander bent down and picked up the largest pieces of glass before Tom realized what he was actually doing.
"Commander, I can clean up my own mess. Is there something you wanted?" He felt awkward, sitting in the presence of a superior officer so he stood on the couch and stepped over its back, placing his feet solidly on the floor. He grabbed the back to stop from swaying as a sudden light- headedness over took him. Chakotay placed the shards of glass in his hands on the table and stood as well, looking at him. Tom was suddenly tense, realizing his half state of undress.
"I take it you weren't expecting it to be me at the door." The older man remarked and Tom's eyes narrowed.
"Chakotay, this is the first time you've ever even stopped at my quarters doors. I think it's safe to say I am surprised at the visit." Was his snappy reply. Tom took a deep breath and tried composed himself, despite his rolling stomach.
-()-
The first thing Chakotay noticed as he entered the pilot's quarters was the man himself. He was lying half naked on his couch with a half full glass of water on his stomach and a wet cloth over his brow. The man had seemed content to lie there and wait for him to approach until Chakotay had actually done so. Tom had sat up and knocked the glass to its fatal place on the floor before Chakotay had taken more than three steps. His speed was astounding, and it bothered Chakotay. But more so than the speed was the look of defensive anger in the mans eyes, until he'd noticed who it was. The anger had disappeared before Chakotay could blink and he ordered Tom to not move as he went to stand on the ground scattered with glass shards. Chakotay, not knowing what else to do, went to pick up the glass. He not been expecting the scene he received when he entered. Tom had pretty much told him to not pick up the glass and the pilot had stood and climbed over the back of his couch to stand on the floor behind. The action was made slightly awkward as the man made an effort to face Chakotay at all times, no doubt trying to hide his back. Chakotay said the first thing he could think of, and Tom's blatant reply hadn't done anything to ease the tension in the room.
"Do you always react to Harry's entrance like you just did?" He asked, curious.
"Of course not. You startled me, I wasn't expecting anyone else to stop by."
"And that's why you reacted so violently?"
"Commander, I'm sorry but is there a purpose, other than small talk, to your presence?"
"Actually I was coming by to see how you were. You didn't look to good on the planet, and frankly you look worse now." Tom blinked in annoyance and for the first time since he could remember Chakotay wondered if Tom ever looked at him with any look other than surprise, annoyance or smugness. He couldn't recall.
"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine. Anything else?" He swayed ever so slightly on his feet.
"I don't believe you. I think we should get you to the doctor."
"Commander, if I thought I needed to put up with some probing, scanning and sarcastic comments I would have headed there immediately. I'm fine." This time his sway was obvious and he paled slightly. "Excuse me, you know where the door is Commander." The dismissal was almost choked out, as the pilot seemed to be fighting to hold onto his composure. Chakotay didn't move. Tom did. He paled a little more and then practically flew into the bathroom, where the sound of retching could be heard.
Chakotay followed him into his bedroom and then paused in the open doorway to the bathroom, seeing the younger man draped over his toilet breathing heavily, his face pale.
"You okay Paris?"
"Peachy." He croaked. "I thought I asked you to leave."
"I decided not to."
"Oh. Okay. You can leave now then." Tom wasn't looking at him, his well- defined back muscles occasionally flexing impressively, and the bubbled scar at the centre of his back was noticeable more than ever. Chakotay couldn't help but stare as he reached to grab a hand towel from its rack on the wall and pass it to the pilot, who took it with quite thanks. He didn't move away from the toilet yet though, seeming content to be in its close proximity. Chakotay then remembered that Tom had said something and a reply needed to be made.
"I think I'll hang around a bit."
"Chakotay, no offence, but I don't need you to watch over me. I've had years of practice in taking care of myself, I think I can handle a little heat stroke." Chakotay shrugged and moved behind Tom to sit on the bathtubs rim. One of the fortunes of being on the senior staff was the extra room space and bathtub. It seemed to come in handy this situation.
"Perhaps its time you let somebody help then." He offered, his eyes drawn back to the scar, so much like a tattoo, though Chakotay was sure it could only be made through intense heat. There was a stretch of silence before Tom moved to twist his back against the wall, between the toilet and the tub.
"Did you get a good look?" He asked flatly, and Chakotay suddenly felt bad for forcefully invading what was obviously very private to the man before him. However years of dealing with hardships and leadership he was not one to back down from confrontation.
"How long have you had it?"
"Chakotay, I honestly can't figure you out right now. What do you want? Do you get some sort of pleasure from seeing me sick like this? Because I don't know why you're here." Tom's face was carefully composed; Chakotay was becoming more familiar with this look than he had ever been in the previous year on Voyager. Now that he actually watched the pilot he was dismayed at how often he noticed this look of annoyed disassociation. The practiced mask that had fooled him into thinking the man was shallow and self-absorbed, was used so often and in so many different situations Chakotay no longer knew what to take at face value from him, he no longer knew what to believe, and that threw him off balance more than any other thing a person could do.
"I'm here because I was worried about you, and now that it appears I have reason to be worried I'm going to make sure you're okay."
"Yeah, well Harry will be by soon so you don't have to stay."
"When he comes I'll be happy to leave." They sat in silence and Chakotay finally stood and headed out of the bathroom. He could practically feel Tom's relief at his departure, and he saw the man visibly tense again when he re-entered the bathroom and handed him a glass of water.
"Thanks." He mumbled and rinsed his mouth, spitting into the toilet before taking a small sip and swallowing.
"So," Chakotay tried again, "you going to answer my question?"
"Why do you want to know? What does it matter?"
"It matters, because it appears that I really don't know anything about you."
"I've told you that many times Chakotay. Isn't it funny how it usually takes something like the proof of torture for someone to want to get to know you?" Chakotay looked hard at the man and Tom didn't even bat an eyelash in discomfort.
"Perhaps it takes a little truth before someone is willing to make the effort."
"Perhaps, but Harry never had to look for a reason to make the extra effort. Captain Janeway has always shown a little faith, Kes appears to think I'm a wonderful person and she knows less about me than anyone. You know what they saw Chakotay? They saw lies, and that made them care enough to get to know me." The blue in Tom's eyes seemed to flash before settling back into a dull, un-insightful shade. Chakotay frowned and they again fell into silence.
He though about what the sick man, slowly sipping on water, had just said to him. See through the lies to see the truth. Chakotay had never really thought about that before. All his life he'd been raised to tell the truth, to have the truth told in point blank. Honesty was a virtue that was always rewarded in the end, because lies meant you had something to hide. But he'd been brought up in such an honest environment that when he'd gone to the Academy, he hadn't been prepared for the amount of little lies that were tossed around as if it meant nothing. Every stretch of the truth or absolute denial of it had always bothered him.
Now he was willing to think of it in another context, because he trusted the Captain, who he had just been reminded trusted Tom. He'd never been able to figure it out before. Now he wanted to really know why the man lied so much. Why did he hide the fact that he'd been at fault in his crash at Caldik prime? Why did he lie to the Maquis? Why did he lie about the Cardassian prison camp? Why was Chakotay finding it so difficult to believe that Tom could have actually been in the hands of those monsters? It was so difficult he didn't know what to feel. And Tom once again broke the silence. It was apparent that he didn't like the stillness of the room.
"Don't worry about the mark on my back Chakotay. It's nothing. Besides, if you actually think you know where it came from than you can forget it and go back to your original assumption that I put it there to once again fool the Maquis. My favourite past time, as you know."
"There's a problem with that Tom." Chakotay replied, surprised that the blonde had used his name to address him, and even more than surprised that he knew what Chakotay's original opinions on the scar were. Tom was apparently much more perceptive than he had guessed. "I think you're lying." And Tom actually chuckled, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes closed and Adam's apple bobbing slightly. Again they lapsed into silence, Chakotay not really knowing what to say. This was perhaps one of the most bizarre and awkward conversations he had ever had.
"I got it shortly after I was cashiered out of Starfleet and pretty much forced off the planet. Apparently the Cardassian's thought an Admirals son would know a thing or two about command codes."
"Does anyone know?"
"Chakotay, besides you, Ayala, though I doubt he believes it, and Sandrine I think Harry is the only other person. And I haven't actually told him, he's just picked up my drunken rambling and self-pity moments." Tom made a little joke out of it and Chakotay frowned. Any presumptions he had about the scar being fake were now erased. Tom was trying to make him think it was fake, and now the utter truth of his self-mocking words were the only other proof he needed. And in that moment his whole opinion of the arrogant, cocky, pain in the ass Lieutenant changed. It was amazing how differently one looked at a man when he knew him for the first time.
"I'm sorry Tom." And the blue eyes jumped open in anger, glaring at him. In honesty the look made him slightly nervous.
"If I'd wanted pity than I would have made sure the entire galaxy knew of my past. If you ever say something along the lines of pity again I will hit you." Chakotay didn't doubt it.
"It wasn't pity Tom. I'm apologizing for the way I've treated you. I've been blind, I failed where Harry succeeded. I promise I won't make that mistake again." He saw the eyes soften slightly but there was an unnerving sense of distrust between them. For the first time he knew what it felt like to have people not believe your words. It bothered him. Deeply.
"Hey Tom? You in here?" Both of their eyes snapped to the door and Chakotay stood from his spot on the Tub as he heard Harry softly walking around in the other room.
"I'm in here Harry, don't worry, I'm not naked. Well, almost not naked." The dark haired ensign appeared in the doorway and looked surprised to tee Chakotay. Immediately he stood at attention.
"Commander." He saluted and then looked at his pale friend on the floor beside the toilet, looking back at him with a slight twinkle in his eyes that put a pause to his sick pallor. "What's going on here?"
"I was just babysitting the Lieutenant until you came. Apparently he has a bit of heat stroke." Tom seemed content to watch Chakotay handle Harry, no doubt loving their awkward moment.
"I see." Harry replied, recovering remarkably quickly. It seemed anything involving Tom didn't faze the young man for too long. "I'll walk you to the door Commander." Chakotay nodded at the invitation and turned once to look at Tom, but the man was avoiding his eyes now, like he was suddenly uncomfortable with his presence.
"Get better Tom. If you need me to change the roster for tomorrow just let me know."
"Thank you Sir." And Chakotay followed Harry out of the room. They walked through the bedroom and Chakotay noticed that there wasn't very much decoration at all. The living room had some, but none of it was too nice. It didn't seem to fit the pilot's personality either. A light hand on his arm stopped him before he could leave.
"Commander. How did Tom get sick?"
"He wore the wrong uniform and didn't have water while working on the surface. Make sure he gets lots to drink and a good rest." Harry frowned.
"Permission to speak freely sir?"
"Granted." This was interesting.
"Tom is never ill prepared for any away mission unless there is some reason."
"What kind of reason are you speaking of?"
"Misinformation sir. It's happened a few times, usually when he's in a hurry and an individual on the team tells him what he needs to bring. He's never told me who does this but it usually results in him being sick." Harry ran a frustrated hand through this shaggy black hair.
"Don't worry Harry. I'm perfectly aware what happened this time around. I don't think the individual who was at fault will be giving Tom any more miss-guided information. And those that I don't know about will soon get the idea that it's not to happen again." Harry's dark eyes met Chakotay's and he was pleased to see such caring for the man in the bathroom. Tom needed more people like Harry, it was unfortunate that Chakotay had never figured it out until now.
"Thank you sir. Have a good night." Chakotay nodded and walked out the door and back into the well-lit corridor, only just noticing the temperature difference between the two rooms. He headed towards his office, thinking about everything he'd just learned when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and a small smile graced his lips before he continued on his way. He'd just remembered something that he thought was very important. Tom had accepted a drink from him. Maybe things would be okay in the end after all.
-()-
*Yeah, I guess you've figured out that I like confrontations that reveal personal things about Tom's past. I like more public confrontations as well, so we'll have to see what happens in future chapters! Hope you'll keep coming to read.
Chapter 4
The sun was hot, there was no breeze, and the uniform he had on was the most uncomfortable, irritating, suffocating material he had ever had the pleasure of wearing. Tom Paris wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and frowned slightly at the small amount of perspiration that came away. Sighing he paused in his harvesting work and slid the upper part of his black jumpsuit off his shoulders and tied it around his waist. The turtleneck he had on underneath did little to help cool down.
He went back to picking the red, coconut like fruit. Every now and then he would pull his sweat soaked shirt away from his equally drenched body and attempt to shake it, trying to create a draft to cool him down. He'd been at it for about four hours now, harvesting his quota of fruits, and he hadn't had a drink since he began. He pricked his index finger on a small thorn and cursed quietly to himself. Then for good measure he cursed the sun and certain members of Voyager that he was currently on the planet with.
Chakotay had contacted him about fifteen minutes before the mission had set off to the planet to inform him ensign Williams had fallen ill and Tom was replacing him as the field medic. That had been fine, he was always ready to get off the confines of the ship and breath some fresh air. However he hadn't had a lot of time to get ready, so when he'd been rushing to astrometrics to get a surface climate reading and Ensign Bristow had stopped him to say it was about fifteen degrees above freezing, he only paused a second. He distinctly remembered saying that was an odd temperature for a vegetable to grow in, and Bristow had shrugged and said it was a weird universe. Tom didn't know why he'd taken the ensigns word, especially considering his current status onboard the ship. People still hadn't forgiven him for acting so.inappropriately towards the Commander.
Things never changed, and on this ship the fact that he was a senior officer as well as a Lieutenant J.G. did not stop the petty jokes, or cruel words. He checked his wrist chronometer. Five hours he'd been working. He wiped his head again and frowned at the lack of sweat. He really needed to get a drink. He noticed Bristow coming towards him carrying a storage container. The man stopped and set it down about ten meters away, where he made a show of peeling off the layers of his summer weather Starfleet issue jumpsuit to a thin white tank top, followed by a long drink of water from a canteen.
Tom unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of water. Now, asking the ensign for some water would just be a joke on himself, so he took a breath and was about to call out to order the ensign to give him a drink when the slightly older man quickly dumped the water over his head, draining it too fast for Tom to stop the action. As the last drop fell the blond man looked at Tom and grinned slightly, shaking his dripping head before he turned and went to work at his selected tree.
Tom counted to ten and tried to ignore the immature man that was only a short distance away. 'I will not kill a fellow officer. I will not kill a fellow officer.I will not kill, maim, damage, threaten, or even pay attention to said fellow officer.' The pilot felt himself clamping his jaw together so tightly that it was beginning to ache. He'd been informed that it would only be a three-hour away mission, and he had therefore neglected to bring water. He swore that the sun was getting hotter and thanked the fact that it was behind him instead of on his face. He didn't want to think about the burn he could be getting right now.
He dropped another ten fruit into his storage container and then closed the full unit up. He looked at the heavy bin in disgust and could feel the pressure in his head mounting surprisingly fast. Well, this was the last bin he needed, he'd already taken nine to the beaming sight and on this trip he'd be able to return. With a longing sigh he bent and picked up the large container, wishing he had some cart to aid him. He stood tall with his burden and walked quickly past Bristow, hoping he didn't look as tired and frustrated as he felt. And after five minutes he was placing his fruit on the beaming site. He almost fell as he gently put it down, and for a brief moment darkness swam before his eyes. He recovered in time to see Chakotay march around a few yellow bushes and head toward him with his own unit. Tom automatically stood taller.
"Lieutenant. Finished for the day?"
"Yes sir." He waited in impatience as the darker skinned man took in his appearance, he noticed the man frown.
"I can't help but notice you're wearing a cold weather uniform."
"That's very perceptive of you sir." Tom replied professionally, hoping to annoy the man enough to get him to drop the subject. For some reason, unlike all the other times, it didn't work.
"Care to explain why? You've got to be roasting in that thing."
"The sauna in my room wasn't working sir, I felt this would be an efficient supplement." Chakotay looked at him strangely and Tom wanted to just tell him to let him get back to the ship before he passed out. God it was hot!
"Did you leave your canteen where you were last harvesting? All equipment must be removed from the surface with departure, as I know you are aware of."
"I am aware of it sir. I don't have a canteen with me."
"Why not?" The ex-Maquis captain sure was inquisitive today. Tom resisted the insubordinate act of glaring at the man. He was hot, dehydrated, dizzy, had a headache that rivalled his worst hangovers and was irritable. He really didn't need this conversation right now.
"I was in a rush to get to the transporter room on time and neglected to obtain one in the first place. May I beam back to the ship now Commander? I'm a little parched as I know you've guessed." Chakotay's frown finally broke into a mild look of annoyance.
"Next time you neglect such necessary items, Lieutenant, I suggest you inform me and we'll have one beamed down. Understood?" Now it was Tom's turn to frown, because that wasn't exactly the harsh reprimand he'd been expecting. "Now, beam back to the ship, and get a drink."
"Yes sir." Chakotay then turned and headed towards Bristow's location, Tom watching him intently until the man disappeared around some trees. When he was gone Tom rolled his eyes towards the sky and made sure the units were in the right spot for transport. It seemed Chakotay was still trying to open up some kind of comradeship with him, and it wasn't that Tom would have normally been abject to seeing whether a friendship could be forged between them, but he knew the only reason Chakotay was making any effort was because he'd seen the burnt tattoo on his back. Tom was not going to accept anything, friendship or other, in these regards. Pity friends, or idealized friends were not something he appreciated. And right now that was what Chakotay was coming across as: he wanted to get to know Tom because of his possibly revealed past, not because of the man himself.
Frustrated and annoyed beyond his norm Tom slapped the commbadge and demanded a beam out. The ensign in the transporter room didn't look too happy with his curt nod hello and brisk exit. He didn't care. He immediately stormed to his room where he stripped on his way to the replicator.
"Computer, decrease temperature 10 degrees." He stopped at the replicator. "Two large glasses of water." They materialized side by side and he picked up one and chugged it ten seconds. He leaned his empty hand on the wall and took several deep gulps of air, steadying his vision, he replaced the first glass and picked up the other. He put it on the coffee table as he stormed by to his room where he slowly dressed into a pair of sweat pants. Foregoing a shirt he headed to the bathroom where he wiped down his neck, chest and arms with a cold, wet cloth. After re-soaking the cloth he went back into his living room and collapsed on his couch, taking his glass of water and draping the cool cloth over his forehead he closed his eyes.
He could feel his first glass of water swishing in his stomach every move and thought he just might throw it up. It was stupid to drink it all at once, but frankly Scarlet, he didn't give a damn. The second glass he sipped very slowly, and occasionally poured a bit to pool on his moulded stomach, and he played with it with his fingers. It was scary how fast his skin sucked the water into it. The pounding in his head was slowly beginning to dissipate when the chine of his door rang. He groaned but didn't move.
He'd forgotten that Harry had told him he'd stop by around six to grab dinner. He really didn't feel up to it, and frankly he probably wouldn't until the next day. He knew how long it would take for him to get his appetite back after dehydration and overheating. Now, should he go throw on a shirt and get up or just stay there like the sick man he was. He opted to stay there. If there was anyone to see him in misery it was Harry, besides, the kid was a good nursemaid on that one occasion when the doc had demanded he'd needed one. The man hadn't even hesitated to volunteer his evening off to watch Tom puke in a toilet and he'd always had a towel ready. He was possibly the best friend Tom had ever had.actually, he was certain of it. The chime rang again, reminding him that he actually had to let the kid in before he could see him. He quietly called out to the computer to allow access and waited with eyes closed for his friend to enter
He heard the door slide open and shut, and then there were footsteps that were heavier than Harry's entering the room. Immediately Tom swung his feet off the couch and sat up, almost ready to face whomever it was that was now in his quarters. However in the process he forgot about the glass balancing on his stomach and it fell, hitting the ground with a thick breaking sound. 'Shit.' He looked up and glared, only to find Chakotay staring at him with worry.
"Commander! I wasn't expecting you. Sorry about the mess." Tom was annoyed with his sluggish movements as the Commander approached slowly, almost cautiously. He went to place his feet down but the Commander stopped him mid-movement.
"Tom stay there! Put your feet up on the couch, I don't want you to cut them on the glass." Tom hesitated a moment before complying. He didn't want to bleed all over his floor. He watched in amazement as the Commander bent down and picked up the largest pieces of glass before Tom realized what he was actually doing.
"Commander, I can clean up my own mess. Is there something you wanted?" He felt awkward, sitting in the presence of a superior officer so he stood on the couch and stepped over its back, placing his feet solidly on the floor. He grabbed the back to stop from swaying as a sudden light- headedness over took him. Chakotay placed the shards of glass in his hands on the table and stood as well, looking at him. Tom was suddenly tense, realizing his half state of undress.
"I take it you weren't expecting it to be me at the door." The older man remarked and Tom's eyes narrowed.
"Chakotay, this is the first time you've ever even stopped at my quarters doors. I think it's safe to say I am surprised at the visit." Was his snappy reply. Tom took a deep breath and tried composed himself, despite his rolling stomach.
-()-
The first thing Chakotay noticed as he entered the pilot's quarters was the man himself. He was lying half naked on his couch with a half full glass of water on his stomach and a wet cloth over his brow. The man had seemed content to lie there and wait for him to approach until Chakotay had actually done so. Tom had sat up and knocked the glass to its fatal place on the floor before Chakotay had taken more than three steps. His speed was astounding, and it bothered Chakotay. But more so than the speed was the look of defensive anger in the mans eyes, until he'd noticed who it was. The anger had disappeared before Chakotay could blink and he ordered Tom to not move as he went to stand on the ground scattered with glass shards. Chakotay, not knowing what else to do, went to pick up the glass. He not been expecting the scene he received when he entered. Tom had pretty much told him to not pick up the glass and the pilot had stood and climbed over the back of his couch to stand on the floor behind. The action was made slightly awkward as the man made an effort to face Chakotay at all times, no doubt trying to hide his back. Chakotay said the first thing he could think of, and Tom's blatant reply hadn't done anything to ease the tension in the room.
"Do you always react to Harry's entrance like you just did?" He asked, curious.
"Of course not. You startled me, I wasn't expecting anyone else to stop by."
"And that's why you reacted so violently?"
"Commander, I'm sorry but is there a purpose, other than small talk, to your presence?"
"Actually I was coming by to see how you were. You didn't look to good on the planet, and frankly you look worse now." Tom blinked in annoyance and for the first time since he could remember Chakotay wondered if Tom ever looked at him with any look other than surprise, annoyance or smugness. He couldn't recall.
"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine. Anything else?" He swayed ever so slightly on his feet.
"I don't believe you. I think we should get you to the doctor."
"Commander, if I thought I needed to put up with some probing, scanning and sarcastic comments I would have headed there immediately. I'm fine." This time his sway was obvious and he paled slightly. "Excuse me, you know where the door is Commander." The dismissal was almost choked out, as the pilot seemed to be fighting to hold onto his composure. Chakotay didn't move. Tom did. He paled a little more and then practically flew into the bathroom, where the sound of retching could be heard.
Chakotay followed him into his bedroom and then paused in the open doorway to the bathroom, seeing the younger man draped over his toilet breathing heavily, his face pale.
"You okay Paris?"
"Peachy." He croaked. "I thought I asked you to leave."
"I decided not to."
"Oh. Okay. You can leave now then." Tom wasn't looking at him, his well- defined back muscles occasionally flexing impressively, and the bubbled scar at the centre of his back was noticeable more than ever. Chakotay couldn't help but stare as he reached to grab a hand towel from its rack on the wall and pass it to the pilot, who took it with quite thanks. He didn't move away from the toilet yet though, seeming content to be in its close proximity. Chakotay then remembered that Tom had said something and a reply needed to be made.
"I think I'll hang around a bit."
"Chakotay, no offence, but I don't need you to watch over me. I've had years of practice in taking care of myself, I think I can handle a little heat stroke." Chakotay shrugged and moved behind Tom to sit on the bathtubs rim. One of the fortunes of being on the senior staff was the extra room space and bathtub. It seemed to come in handy this situation.
"Perhaps its time you let somebody help then." He offered, his eyes drawn back to the scar, so much like a tattoo, though Chakotay was sure it could only be made through intense heat. There was a stretch of silence before Tom moved to twist his back against the wall, between the toilet and the tub.
"Did you get a good look?" He asked flatly, and Chakotay suddenly felt bad for forcefully invading what was obviously very private to the man before him. However years of dealing with hardships and leadership he was not one to back down from confrontation.
"How long have you had it?"
"Chakotay, I honestly can't figure you out right now. What do you want? Do you get some sort of pleasure from seeing me sick like this? Because I don't know why you're here." Tom's face was carefully composed; Chakotay was becoming more familiar with this look than he had ever been in the previous year on Voyager. Now that he actually watched the pilot he was dismayed at how often he noticed this look of annoyed disassociation. The practiced mask that had fooled him into thinking the man was shallow and self-absorbed, was used so often and in so many different situations Chakotay no longer knew what to take at face value from him, he no longer knew what to believe, and that threw him off balance more than any other thing a person could do.
"I'm here because I was worried about you, and now that it appears I have reason to be worried I'm going to make sure you're okay."
"Yeah, well Harry will be by soon so you don't have to stay."
"When he comes I'll be happy to leave." They sat in silence and Chakotay finally stood and headed out of the bathroom. He could practically feel Tom's relief at his departure, and he saw the man visibly tense again when he re-entered the bathroom and handed him a glass of water.
"Thanks." He mumbled and rinsed his mouth, spitting into the toilet before taking a small sip and swallowing.
"So," Chakotay tried again, "you going to answer my question?"
"Why do you want to know? What does it matter?"
"It matters, because it appears that I really don't know anything about you."
"I've told you that many times Chakotay. Isn't it funny how it usually takes something like the proof of torture for someone to want to get to know you?" Chakotay looked hard at the man and Tom didn't even bat an eyelash in discomfort.
"Perhaps it takes a little truth before someone is willing to make the effort."
"Perhaps, but Harry never had to look for a reason to make the extra effort. Captain Janeway has always shown a little faith, Kes appears to think I'm a wonderful person and she knows less about me than anyone. You know what they saw Chakotay? They saw lies, and that made them care enough to get to know me." The blue in Tom's eyes seemed to flash before settling back into a dull, un-insightful shade. Chakotay frowned and they again fell into silence.
He though about what the sick man, slowly sipping on water, had just said to him. See through the lies to see the truth. Chakotay had never really thought about that before. All his life he'd been raised to tell the truth, to have the truth told in point blank. Honesty was a virtue that was always rewarded in the end, because lies meant you had something to hide. But he'd been brought up in such an honest environment that when he'd gone to the Academy, he hadn't been prepared for the amount of little lies that were tossed around as if it meant nothing. Every stretch of the truth or absolute denial of it had always bothered him.
Now he was willing to think of it in another context, because he trusted the Captain, who he had just been reminded trusted Tom. He'd never been able to figure it out before. Now he wanted to really know why the man lied so much. Why did he hide the fact that he'd been at fault in his crash at Caldik prime? Why did he lie to the Maquis? Why did he lie about the Cardassian prison camp? Why was Chakotay finding it so difficult to believe that Tom could have actually been in the hands of those monsters? It was so difficult he didn't know what to feel. And Tom once again broke the silence. It was apparent that he didn't like the stillness of the room.
"Don't worry about the mark on my back Chakotay. It's nothing. Besides, if you actually think you know where it came from than you can forget it and go back to your original assumption that I put it there to once again fool the Maquis. My favourite past time, as you know."
"There's a problem with that Tom." Chakotay replied, surprised that the blonde had used his name to address him, and even more than surprised that he knew what Chakotay's original opinions on the scar were. Tom was apparently much more perceptive than he had guessed. "I think you're lying." And Tom actually chuckled, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes closed and Adam's apple bobbing slightly. Again they lapsed into silence, Chakotay not really knowing what to say. This was perhaps one of the most bizarre and awkward conversations he had ever had.
"I got it shortly after I was cashiered out of Starfleet and pretty much forced off the planet. Apparently the Cardassian's thought an Admirals son would know a thing or two about command codes."
"Does anyone know?"
"Chakotay, besides you, Ayala, though I doubt he believes it, and Sandrine I think Harry is the only other person. And I haven't actually told him, he's just picked up my drunken rambling and self-pity moments." Tom made a little joke out of it and Chakotay frowned. Any presumptions he had about the scar being fake were now erased. Tom was trying to make him think it was fake, and now the utter truth of his self-mocking words were the only other proof he needed. And in that moment his whole opinion of the arrogant, cocky, pain in the ass Lieutenant changed. It was amazing how differently one looked at a man when he knew him for the first time.
"I'm sorry Tom." And the blue eyes jumped open in anger, glaring at him. In honesty the look made him slightly nervous.
"If I'd wanted pity than I would have made sure the entire galaxy knew of my past. If you ever say something along the lines of pity again I will hit you." Chakotay didn't doubt it.
"It wasn't pity Tom. I'm apologizing for the way I've treated you. I've been blind, I failed where Harry succeeded. I promise I won't make that mistake again." He saw the eyes soften slightly but there was an unnerving sense of distrust between them. For the first time he knew what it felt like to have people not believe your words. It bothered him. Deeply.
"Hey Tom? You in here?" Both of their eyes snapped to the door and Chakotay stood from his spot on the Tub as he heard Harry softly walking around in the other room.
"I'm in here Harry, don't worry, I'm not naked. Well, almost not naked." The dark haired ensign appeared in the doorway and looked surprised to tee Chakotay. Immediately he stood at attention.
"Commander." He saluted and then looked at his pale friend on the floor beside the toilet, looking back at him with a slight twinkle in his eyes that put a pause to his sick pallor. "What's going on here?"
"I was just babysitting the Lieutenant until you came. Apparently he has a bit of heat stroke." Tom seemed content to watch Chakotay handle Harry, no doubt loving their awkward moment.
"I see." Harry replied, recovering remarkably quickly. It seemed anything involving Tom didn't faze the young man for too long. "I'll walk you to the door Commander." Chakotay nodded at the invitation and turned once to look at Tom, but the man was avoiding his eyes now, like he was suddenly uncomfortable with his presence.
"Get better Tom. If you need me to change the roster for tomorrow just let me know."
"Thank you Sir." And Chakotay followed Harry out of the room. They walked through the bedroom and Chakotay noticed that there wasn't very much decoration at all. The living room had some, but none of it was too nice. It didn't seem to fit the pilot's personality either. A light hand on his arm stopped him before he could leave.
"Commander. How did Tom get sick?"
"He wore the wrong uniform and didn't have water while working on the surface. Make sure he gets lots to drink and a good rest." Harry frowned.
"Permission to speak freely sir?"
"Granted." This was interesting.
"Tom is never ill prepared for any away mission unless there is some reason."
"What kind of reason are you speaking of?"
"Misinformation sir. It's happened a few times, usually when he's in a hurry and an individual on the team tells him what he needs to bring. He's never told me who does this but it usually results in him being sick." Harry ran a frustrated hand through this shaggy black hair.
"Don't worry Harry. I'm perfectly aware what happened this time around. I don't think the individual who was at fault will be giving Tom any more miss-guided information. And those that I don't know about will soon get the idea that it's not to happen again." Harry's dark eyes met Chakotay's and he was pleased to see such caring for the man in the bathroom. Tom needed more people like Harry, it was unfortunate that Chakotay had never figured it out until now.
"Thank you sir. Have a good night." Chakotay nodded and walked out the door and back into the well-lit corridor, only just noticing the temperature difference between the two rooms. He headed towards his office, thinking about everything he'd just learned when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and a small smile graced his lips before he continued on his way. He'd just remembered something that he thought was very important. Tom had accepted a drink from him. Maybe things would be okay in the end after all.
-()-
*Yeah, I guess you've figured out that I like confrontations that reveal personal things about Tom's past. I like more public confrontations as well, so we'll have to see what happens in future chapters! Hope you'll keep coming to read.