Notes: I am so sorry it took so long to get out! Life's been hectic! (it never ends ;) I hope this chapter satisfies you! Thank you for reading this story and also for taking the time to review! Also, I apologize for the big spaces between the paragraphs; I keep forgetting that I don't need to space between them.
Chapter 6
"When you're close to tears remember, someday, it'll all be over. One day we're going to go to far." –Lighthouse family "high" (slightly modified lyrics)
-()-
Sometimes he woke up to a scream, and he was disoriented, wondering who it was being tortured at that moment, until he realized that he was actually in his Lieutenants quarters aboard Voyager. Then he would lie back in his sweaty bed sheets and stare at the dark ceiling, afraid to check the time for fear of how soon he'd have to get up. He didn't remember what it was that had him screaming into consciousness. He didn't have these nightmares very often, but when he did he would usually remain where he was, lying awake in his bed, for the rest of the morning, until duty could take his mind off of it.
He was usually able to sleep all night, no pictures of past events plaguing his self-admittedly abused mind. The last three nights however, the nightmares had been relentlessly attacking him. He didn't know what to think, but if it didn't let up in two nights than he might ask for a sleeping aid…maybe.
What he did know was what the dreams had probably been about, and it sure as hell wasn't Caldick prime, his childhood, or prison. It was about pleading men and women of different species brought together for one singular purpose: for pain. A tortured end to lives that had meant something. He envied them sometimes. He envied them not having to deal with their memories of what happened. He envied them because if they had lived, they would have been deemed hero's, survivors, warrior's, strong individuals that would had been loved, helped, cherished…people that would have meant something to everyone else around them. But they hadn't survived, he had. Sometimes that was torture in it's self, but usually it was his reason to keep going.
Sighing he called out to check the time. Two hours and twenty-seven minutes until his shift started. He wiped a hand across his face and sat up slowly, tiredly swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and standing. He moved to the closet and brought out the Magtaur toy, carrying it into the living room with him. He sat it on the coffee table where it seemed to watch him and, for a few minutes, he stared back into its yellow eyes. Then, in the presence of the people he'd never met but had such a profound effect on his life, he pulled out a sketchbook and began sketching pictures from memory. An hour and a half later a Vulcan child's charcoaled eyes stared back at him, his face identifiable, depending if Tom's memory of him was correct. The smudged image was shut away in the book, along with the rest of them. Tom bent over, slipping the black leather cover into its home, which was a slit he'd made in the centre of the underside of his couch. Hidden, like himself.
-()-
The mess hall was cheery, and at the same time tired. Many people had been complaining of having recurring nightmares the past few nights and had therefore not gotten enough sleep. The Doctor had taken a look at the few that had gone to see him and declared them fit in every sense. Still the tiredness seemed to be having an affect. Chakotay would have a talk with the Doctor later to see if there was anything that could be done about it, but he suspected it was just the stress catching up to them now that they had a moment to breath. It was normal for this crew, living in the difficult conditions they were forced into.
Sitting with B'Elanna he quietly ate his meal, watching his crew casually. The nice thing about being with the half Klingon this early in the morning was that he never felt the need to talk and could enjoy the moments of just eating and not worrying about making conversation. They knew each other too well, and he knew that she didn't like the idea of communicating this early in the morning. She was too busy trying to sort out her schedule before she went to engineering. He smiled and she looked up, seeming to read his mind and returned a knowing grin, before ducking back into her padd and breakfast.
The assembly line, which consisted of hungry officers, was close to his seat and he noticed that Tom Paris was selectively filling his plate with…toast it looked like. Tirzri'wa was beside him, although he was selecting a rather large amount of fruit to go with his tea. And Chakotay would like to think that he wasn't eavesdropping on the conversation between the two, but seeing as they were so close and he could hear every word they said it was difficult not to pick up on the polite conversation.
"Eugene." Tirzri'wa greeted Tom and Chakotay could tell he was pleased by the annoyance that flittered across Tom's face.
"Warig" was the reply and Tirzri'wa laughed.
"I see you have been talking to my friends about me. Interesting that you should ask questions such as the part of my name which annoys me so." The feathered man grinned.
"I feel its necessary to know things about your company. But if you don't call me Eugene I won't call you Warig. At least not in public."
"Fair enough pilot. You had no nightmares last night I trust?" Chakotay noticed Tom's hand pause for a moment while buttering his bread.
"Why would you think I had nightmares?"
"I simply ask because I have heard complaints from several of your crew members. I was hoping you feel as awake as you look."
"What can I say, I'm a good morning person."
"You are a good person at any time of the day I think. Would you care to join me at our table?" Tom had readily agreed and followed the man back to his seat, where Tag/niek, Tel'ram and Sirn'kwa were also sat. Chakotay watched the pilot follow; he glanced at Sam Wildeman as he passed her and Joe Carey, both of who smiled in greeting before turning back to their conversation. Other than that no one else paid attention to the tall man, as usual. Chakotay sighed quietly, but B'Elanna's sensitive ears heard him.
"What's bothering you today?"
"I'm alright."
"Sure you are. Chakotay, don't take this the wrong way but you've been acting kind of odd lately." He looked at her and raised his eyebrows slightly.
"I have?"
"Yes, and if I'm correct it has something to do with our loud mouthed Pig."
"Why would you think that?" She looked at him carefully a moment and he allowed her to scrutinize, thankful that he had someone like her to notice when something was bothering him.
"It has to do with that tattoo he has doesn't it?" He looked at her sharply.
"What tattoo are you talking about?" He asked, or more like demanded. B'Elanna, who was about to fork a load of food into her mouth paused, and put the utensil back on the table.
"Chakotay, I know you know he has a tattoo, it's all over the ship. Do you know what it is?"
"How'd you find out about it?" He asked, not answering her question.
"Some fleet ensign mentioned it when Dalby asked him what had gone on in the gym the other week. He just said something about a tattoo that, apparently, meant something important to you and Ayala."
"Do you know what it is?" He interrogated her, and her eyes narrowed in warning at his tone. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, as if she were coming to a conclusion herself. Finally she leaned forward and spoke quietly.
"We had the ensign give us a sketch of what he could remember. It was rough, and didn't mean much at first, but Dalby worked on it and it began to look familiar. Actually, it looked a lot like the mark of CianKa Adasta, but we still can't really figure out what it is. Do you know?" She watched him intently and he only stared back at her for a moment, trying to figure out if he should tell her the truth, or skip over it like it didn't matter. The problem was that it did matter, but he didn't have the right to say anything about it. However, through his contemplation B'Elanna had come to her own conclusion.
"My god, it's true." She stared at him with intense brown eyes. "It is from CianKa Adasta." A burst of loud laughter rang clear through the mess hall and Chakotay turned his gaze away from B'Elanna's to the table occupied by their current subject. Tom's blue eyes seemed to glitter with amusement from that distance and he gripped Tirzri'wa's shoulder in the Widariats custom of acknowledgment. It was so easy to see the friendship that had apparently blossomed between Tom and Voyager's guests. The feather headed beings had been appearing to make an effort to have Tom spend time with them, and Tom was not showing any signs of discomfort with the friendly attention. It must be quite a change, he thought as he was pulled back into conversation with Torres.
"Chakotay, I know you are aware of this but I thought I want to point out that nobody" and she accented the nobody "has ever been seen alive with that scarring. So, what I want to know is if it's true, because frankly, Tom Paris does not look like someone who survived from a POW camp, let alone that one." Another laugh was heard from the group but B'Elanna did not allow him to break eye contact, but her glare deepened slightly.
Now he truly didn't know how to feel. Every day since he'd seen the marking on the pilot's back he'd been unsure of what to believe. Ever since their talk in the mans bathroom Chakotay had become dead certain that Tom Paris would never fake something that meant so much pain. Now, with B'Elanna blatantly stating that she didn't believe it was authentic made him want to spit the truth at her, how dare she question Tom's courage, his honour! And in his moment of silent rage at the accusation that Tom Paris was indeed the lying bastard he'd always come across as, Chakotay felt shame. He'd reacted the same way, and it had taken a lot more convincing than it should have to believe the man was a genuine human being that hid so much about himself. Chakotay and the rest of this crew really knew nothing about him, and they'd never even tried to be his friend.
Chakotay's gaze drifted to the table where his blonde mystery sat, surrounded by people that had held no judgement. And they were telepathic, they couldn't be wrong about his character. He watched and he noticed how relaxed Tom appeared around his friends. Friends he'd attained after only being around them for five days. Chakotay had never seen him genuinely smile so much in public, except when he was around Harry.
"So you believe it." He looked back at her, unable to read her own feelings about the situation.
"I believe him B'Elanna." She nodded and leaned back, once again attacking her meal. Tom got up and went to recycle his dishes. Chakotay checked his wrist chronometer; Tom still had ten minutes left until he had to report to the bridge, he was leaving rather early. As the man placed his dishes in the designated area two officers, one ex-maquis, one Starfleet, approached him at the same time. They stopped him, speaking quietly. Tom's pale face flushed a light shade of red and his eyes flashed angrily. For a moment he looked ready to kill, but the look slipped back behind an icy gaze and he said something back to the two men. They turned and walked away, but they looked smug. Tom left the mess hall with a straight back that spoke of his irritation. Chakotay had been noticing quite a few little scenes like that one, but he didn't know what to do about them.
2 days later
The crew was typically grumpy after several nights of interrupted sleep. Last night even Chakotay had had a nightmare, and when he'd first awoken he'd been terrified of his surroundings. He couldn't explain the images, the few that he remembered were too disjointed to understand. There were two blurred faces, the glimpse of a Starfleet uniform on a grown man as he'd quietly closed a door and locked it, and blood. Everywhere was dripping with the thick red liquid of human life but it had no path to follow, the gore and splatter simply was. Like a stain.
Chakotay had spoken with the captain, and she informed him that Tom and the Doctor were in sickbay, interviewing off duty individuals as to the contents of the dreams. Their reports so far had stated that all the nightmares were exactly the same. Chakotay asked her if she thought the Widariats might have anything to do with it and she'd nodded, answering in even quieter tones that she didn't think it was purposefully done, but they must be projecting the nightmare to the crew as they picked it up in their sleep. At least, that was her theory, and she was a very intelligent woman. Chakotay had requested to aid in the search for the nightmares source and at her approving nod he'd headed off to sickbay.
On his way there he passed two crewmen, the same that had bothered Tom in the mess hall only two hours before. They were walking with their heads tall and alert, and as he approached them they nodded in respectful greeting. He noticed that Cornick was carrying what looked like a stuffed toy, it was dressed in an odd assortment of patched cloth, jewellery, and a braid of hair. Odd, but he didn't comment. He often saw crewmembers carrying around personal things in their off duty time. Last week ensign Porter had been carrying a javelin to the holodeck, the week before had been Tom Paris with what appeared to look like a bat'leth, although he'd been tucking the weapon close to his leg to not appear threatening with it. Seeing as this Starfleet ship was their home, certain protocols, such as carrying personal items through the corridors, had become lax.
Chakotay stepped through the door of sickbay to be met with a tense atmosphere. The holodoctor was scanning ensign Wildman, who sat holding her two-year-old Naomi on a biobed. She looked tired, which was to be expected he supposed, if she had to deal with these current nightmares as well as a child during the night. Upon his entrance she had looked up and smiled kindly, alerting the doctor to his presence. The holograph closed his scanner and turned to face Chakotay.
"I see you have been having troubles sleeping as well." He stated grumpily. Chakotay noticed ensigns Barnaine and Assink sitting in chairs to the side, waiting their turn to be scanned. Their stony faces told Chakotay that it was them that were causing the strained atmosphere.
"Only last night Doctor. I came to offer my assistance in the search for the cause of these nightmares." He looked around the otherwise empty sickbay. "I was under the impression that Lieutenant Paris was aiding you."
"He was." Snuffed the doctor. "And so was Kes, until those two came in and refused to let him look at them while I was scanning Samantha. He and Kes are in the back room going over the scans while I deal with this bunch."
"I see." Chakotay looked at the seated officers who squirmed under his glare. It was their right to turn down aid from an individual if they chose, but their attitudes, as well as the attitudes of the rest of this ship, were beginning to grate on Chakotay's nerves, and he wasn't even the recipient of their hostility. After he made his displeasure obviously known in a long and pointed glare he informed the doctor that he would go and see if he could aid the lieutenant and Kes. He didn't want to deal with the ensigns right now.
He walked purposefully to the back lab and entered through the open door, instantly spotting Tom and Kes at the side of the room huddled over tricorder readings. It was actually quite cute to see them next to each other, Tom being so tall and Kes having the petite build.
"Hello Commander." Tom greeted, never looking up from his Tricorder. Kes looked up and smiled kindly at him.
"Come to give us a hand Commander?" She asked politely, although she already seemed to know the answer. Chakotay nodded and frowned slightly at Tom; how had the man known it was him? Finally the pilot's blonde eyes looked up, and they seemed just as tired as everyone else onboard the ship. There was something in his gaze though, that caught Chakotay's attention, his blue eyes seemed to be weighted down, as if they portrayed the invisible burden this man carried on his shoulders. And then, as easy as snapping your fingers, the eyes emotion shifted and twinkled in slight amusement.
"Your footsteps." Tom said as he looked back at the tricorder and frowned slightly. Chakotay blinked and tried to understand the comment that seemed to come out of left field.
"What was that Lieutenant?" Tom looked distracted as he answered, his gaze briefly shifting to acknowledge Chakotay's question as he read the screens information.
"Your footsteps, that's how I knew it was you that entered the lab. After two years of listening to you on the bridge I'm pretty aware of the sound of your walk." He looked up and grinned, slightly cocky. "I also know the steps of the rest of the bridge crew. I find it helps when you can't see what's behind you."
"Maybe we should give you rear view mirrors." Chakotay said and was rewarded by a chuckle. The Commander had always suspected that the pilot paid close attention to his surroundings inside the ship as well as outside when flying, he'd just never realized it was that well honed. He was impressed. "Any luck?" He asked, turning the subject back to the medical task at hand. It was Kes who chose to answer.
"We haven't found anything conclusive yet. These reports are from the cortical monitors that the Doctor had Ensign Simonion and Ensign Dalby wear last night as they slept. Those two have been complaining about the nightmares since the first day."
"And there's no fluctuations in their wave patterns, which basically means that the problem is restricted to the precise moments that the crew is suffering from these dreams." Tom added.
"And the only possible answer we can come up with is displacement." Kes looked at the padd Paris held and reached forward pressing a button.
"Displacement meaning that the nightmare is being projected from its original source." Chakotay concluded. He frowned. "Do you think the Widariats have anything to do with this? They are very powerful telepaths and I doubt it would be difficult to project the images into the crew's minds while they slept. The problem is that I can't see them purposefully doing that."
"Neither can I. I've received nothing but positive emotions from them, and every time they've spoken to me about their abilities they express their respect for peoples privacy and do their best not to project anything." Kes added.
"The nightmares are obviously coming from somebody. I wonder why nobodies come forward with the information about them yet. You'd think they were aware that their nightmares were being transferred to others by now." Kes met Chakotay's questioning look with a thoughtful one of her own.
"Commander, you experienced one of these nightmares last night correct?"
"Yes."
"How severe was it?"
"I thought it was pretty terrifying, but I can only remember small glimpses. Things like blurred faces and a Starfleet Uniform. And blood, lots of it."
"That was fairly mild compared to some of the things people say they see when they sleep. Whoever is suffering from these nightmares must be dealing with them at a completely different level because the source is where all the memories are. I don't think they want everyone to know that what they are seeing is a part of their past." She paused to glance at Tom as he put the padd on the counter and turned to face them, politely listening. "This is very personal and deals with emotions on a deep level."
"How're you sleeping Tom?" Chakotay asked and the pilot shrugged as though the answer didn't really matter, though he suddenly seemed defensive.
"I'm well within working requirements sir." He replied, but before Chakotay could reply the younger man continued. "I'll talk to Tirzri'wa and see if maybe they can figure out what's going on. They're meditating on the holodeck right now and should be until dinner. Today's the end of a five day religious holiday, something called the awakening which basically gives thanks for being telepathic."
"You seem very interested in these people Tom. I don't think I've seen you not eat a meal with them when Harry's absent." Tom shifted slightly on his feet and grinned at Kes, thinking of how to answer her comment.
"They've got a fascinating culture, and great personalities. There's something appealing about how honest they are with each other, being telepathic."
"They've been good for you." Kes commented again and Tom shrugged.
"Yeah, well, friendly faces are hard to come by. We've met too many hostiles in this quadrant, it's a nice change." He said and looked over to the door just as the Doc appeared. Chakotay turned as well, but he had been all to aware of the fact that the alien species Voyager had been encountering were not the only hostiles Tom had to deal with.
"Any luck gentlemen?" The man asked he took the padd Tom handed him, however once the padd had been transferred he hadn't taken his gaze from Tom's Hand. "Lieutenant, may I see your hand please?"
"It's just a bruise Doc, it'll be fine."
"I'm sure. Let me see it." Tom rolled his eyes and held out his right arm, displaying the vivid purple and yellow bruise that covered the back of his hand and part of his wrist. Chakotay winced in empathy, it must hurt. "How did you manage this?" The doctor asked as he pulled out his always-present dermal regenerator and began to mend it.
"I smacked it off a piece of furniture." The pilot replied and took his hand back once it was fixed.
"I see. I suppose your quarters were fully lit as well." The doctor sarcastically commented, and as he'd expected Tom took immediate offence.
"Actually, it was the middle of the night and pretty dark."
"And to think it only takes the simple annunciation of "lights" to change that. Besides that though I would like you to go over Wildman's scans on the main counsel. There isn't anything there, but maybe that's what we need to be looking at."
"Sure thing Doc." Tom took his leave to the main room and Kes sighed.
"Doctor, I don't know why you insist on baiting Tom like that. It doesn't help either of your tempers."
"I'm a hologram, I don't have a temper." The balding man retorted. "Besides, I just needed some information from him."
"And you somehow managed to get it just now?" Chakotay said, not understanding the image at all.
"I'm sure you're aware that obtaining any information about Tom from the man himself is worse than pulling teeth from an alligator and requires much more finesse. Fortunately I understand the man…somewhat."
"So what did he tell you?" Chakotay urged, not sure why the doctor needed information about Tom.
"He told me that he was awake at midnight, which is approximately the time of last nights ship wide rude awakening." The doctor seemed smugly pleased with himself.
"And…"
"And the Doctor feels that Tom has something to do with the nightmares." Kes helped him understand.
"I don't feel Kes, I know. I also know Tom will never admit to it, so I simply have to figure it out without his help."
"Why don't you just ask him?" Chakotay wondered out loud.
"Obviously I've spent more time getting to know our chief pilot than you Commander, otherwise you'd understand that to outright ask Tom something like that would immediately have him double his efforts to hide it."
"Watch the tone Doctor." Chakotay warned, irritated. He respected the hologram, but the man was damned arrogant at times. "And I'm perfectly aware that Tom isn't very vocal about his problems…"
"You have no idea." The doctor muttered.
"…But I doubt he'd lie about it if approached."
"What a great idea, then the whole crew can know that their lack of sleep is his fault and have another ridiculous reason to dislike him."
"Gentlemen" Kes cut in, effectively blocking off Chakotay's automatic defence of the crew. "Why don't we continue with a solution instead of making things worse." And Chakotay frowned, realizing how petty their actions had just been.
"Right, well, there's really nothing that you can help us with right now commander, except by speaking with the Widariats and seeing if they have a part to play in this mess. However two or three more nights of this won't hurt the crew."
"Okay, then I'll see you two later. If you do need my help I'll be on the bridge."
"Thank you Commander." Kes smiled and he left, passing Tom on the way out. They nodded briefly and he was in the corridor. It seemed everyday he was being given a glimpse at a small paragraph that built the story of Tom. He shook his head and started for the bridge. It would be lunch soon and he wanted to get the next month's roster completed.
-()-
Tom's head ached, and he was sure that it was a mixture of little sleep and dehydration. To top it off the Doctor seemed to have some theory about the crew's nightmare and Tom had no idea whether the hologram was heading in the right direction as to the nightmares source. Tom knew he should tell the man about his own nightmares, but he was afraid that the information would spread among the crew and he'd have to deal with the extra hostility.
After two years of being the chief pilot of this ship he'd felt that he'd put up with the animosity very well. He hadn't started any fights, he'd kept his emotions at bay, doing his best to be the model officer he knew he was capable of being…well, maybe not a 'model' officer, but a good one none the less. Every time some crewmember pulled a 'joke,' every time their elbows met his gut in mess hall line up, when shoulders knocked into him in corridors, when glares of disgust hit him and a room silenced when he appeared, and words that cut deeply and made him so angry inside he just wanted to scream at all of them, but he didn't. These people were his best option of living right now.
Sure he could easily find a place in some nice alien society, fly their ships for them (he had been offered a few times) and just forget about these people who seemed bent on making his life a living hell. But there were people that held him back. Harry, his best friend and usually his only real friend. There was Janeway, he respected her. The Doctor, despite his attitude was always there for Tom. Tuvok, who'd never been anything but Vulcan, Neelix and Kes, the Wildmans and a few others who occasionally spoke to him. But now, Tirzri'wa and the other Widariats, they had shown him that things didn't have to be so painful. They'd been nothing but friends to him, and he couldn't understand why. But it was making him question exactly why he stayed on onboard Voyager to have his life slowly beaten out of him.
Tom visibly shrugged himself out of his depressing thoughts. He wasn't ready to leave Harry yet anyway. He'd made a promise that he would keep his friend safe, and that meant sticking around.
His stomach grumbled in annoyance. He'd had a big breakfast, but as usual his bottomless pit was demanding food by the time lunch rolled around. The doctor had held him back looking at scans so no doubt the mess hall would be packed with people rushing to get a meal before their shift resumed. He rounded a corner and went through the mess hall doors as they slid open on his approach. His eyes automatically did a quick scan of the room, packed with laughing or silent individuals, but before he could finish his scan his eyes were drawn to the centre of the room. He froze to the spot, his mind actually taking a moment to figure out exactly what he was looking at.
Hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the mess, was the Magtaur stuffed animal he had left on his table that morning. Its neck was enveloped in a rough noose, it swung slightly from side to side, as if it had been hurriedly tossed up, its beady black eyes seemed to stare directly at him. Tom swallowed, he felt his breaths coming deeply as he fought for control. His face turned a shade of red that nobody on the crew of Voyager had seen on him yet. Sitting below the symbol that meant so much, were a smugly smiling Cornick and Bathet, but their gazes seemed to battle with sudden wariness as Tom's eyes hones in on them. His face was so livid that his orbs had turned almost black in anger.
The mess hall had suddenly seemed to shut down, eyes focusing on Tom and for the first time that Tom could remember they didn't look at him with disgust; they looked at him in fear. But his sights were only set on Cornick and Bathet, and he cursed them for desecrating, for mocking the people that had been killed so brutally Tom still cried at night about it. Feeling each breath he took and exhaling it in such slow fury, Tom took a step towards his enemy, and felt his control snap.
END
…and everyone was killed in a mad fury and the ship crashed into the a nearby sun.
Kidding…kidding….maybe…I guess you'll have to wait and see. Thanks again for all the wonderful comments! Criticism of any kind is always welcome.