Tom absently rocked his glass back and forth, listening to the ice clink against the sides. Lots of people showed up to Neelix' potluck, but you'd think it was a wake. Maybe it was. Just an excuse to drink up and get some real food.
Tom was trying to hold a conversation with the Equinox crewmen. Emphasis on the 'trying'. He'd figured, what the hell, have a little chat; show 'em that someone would give them a second chance. He should pass on the favor. Trouble was, favors usually bit him in the end. He was bored stiff, stuck watching for an excuse to leave.
The small talk was easy. He'd learned how to do that by age five, playing the proper "Little Man" at his father's 'Fleet socials. He'd also learned to pretend that he gave a damn. But like always, he couldn't wait for it to end.
Still pretending to listen, he looked around. People were clustered here and there. A bunch of engineers were bitching about B'Elanna. A few couples stared vacantly out the viewports. He heard a chuckle from the lower decks Maquis near the buffet. Tuvok sat in the corner, staring at a PADD. Neelix fussed over everyone.
The captain had showed up at the start of the little gathering. She did the standard 'Fleet diplomat routine, giving a robotic little spiel about family unity, thanking everyone for their hard work and dedication. But by the hushed whispers around him after the speech, he could tell that people mostly noticed what she didn't say: she didn't mention the Equinox crewmen or welcome them into the ranks of Voyager's crew.
Maybe she thought she'd already done it. She welcomed them the first day they set foot on Voyager, when they were still Ransom's crew. But Tom had to agree, her silence and their identical demotions announced that they weren't wanted anymore.
After her little moment was over, she stood there, scanning the crowd. Chakotay was there, which meant she was expected to go chat with him. Instead, she grabbed Tuvok and began grilling him for status reports. Even without knowing the gossip of the past few days, anyone could see that the captain's problems centered around Chakotay. It was almost funny, watching those two dance around each other, pretending that everything was fine while Janeway glued herself to Tuvok's side. But the tension was thick.
"Captain!" Neelix hollered. "I'm so glad you could make it. I have several wonderful dishes I can't wait for you to try…"
The corners of her eyes betrayed the wince she'd tried to hide. She held up her hand and said, "Sorry, Neelix, but I'm exhausted. I'll look forward to what's left tomorrow." She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and scanned the hall again, then she nodded to Tuvok, turned on her heel and left.
Something was very, very wrong with her. Most people would shrug and say she was just being human, but Tom knew better. Appearances were everything to the captain. A lot of 'Fleet brats were like that. They'd rather destroy themselves than let their image falter. So if she let her crew see her that way, it was because she couldn't hide it any more.
Tom looked back at the Equinox crewmen. If Harry had been there, he'd have been the first to offer friendship. But Harry was busy welding engineering back together. And really, someone should make an effort. What with the captain treating them like Cardassian refugees and Chakotay too busy glowering, it was up to him. Those were the kinds of thoughts that got him in this mess. And now Tom was stuck smiling politely, sipping at his drink, bored out of his mind.
When the conversation stalled yet again, Tom set down his drink and invited them to the holodecks. On nights when Neelix went all-out for the crew, the holodecks were always set to public access, running the two most popular programs. Lately, that meant the Paxau resort and Sandrine's.
The dull, depressing crewmen seemed to be hoping for a dull, depressing bar. He walked with them, got them settled at a table, and introduced them to Sandrine. To Tom's relief, none of them took him up on an invitation to play pool. Safety in numbers, he guessed, as he said goodnight. He went to the pool table and settled into the familiar routine of a solitary practice game.
He sighed at the drama between the command team. He saw Chakotay sitting alone in a corner of Sandrine's, pondering a glass of iced tea. The man looked haggard, and Tom wondered why he hadn't gone to his quarters by now. But if Chakotay wanted to brood, who was he to stop him?
Balls cracked together as he settled into an easy rhythm, and he was drawn into challenge of the game.
Some time later, the atmosphere of the room quieted for a brief moment. Tom looked up to see who had entered.
Greg Ayala stood near the doorway, doing his tall, dark, and intimidating bit. He took a moment to case the place.
Tom walked over and asked, "You looking for someone in particular?"
"Hey, Paris," Greg said, as if that was an answer.
"What's going on, Greg?"
"I wonder if you could clear something up for me."
Tom knew what Greg was going to say before he said it, but he waited anyway.
"I heard that the Cap is furious. Any truth to it?"
Tom smiled at the old Maquis nickname for Chakotay. No one said it around the 'Fleeters, which is what the Maquis figured Tom was. But things had slowly changed. Since Harry and B'Elanna started finding excuses to be anywhere but where he was, he'd started hanging around with Greg and Chakotay. The three had formed a solid friendship -- even if it was a bit low-key for Tom's tastes. And Greg had started to see him as a compatriot.
"Lots. What are the rumors?"
Tom had spent entire evenings counting just how many questions Greg could dodge in a night. At first he had thought Greg was just trying to get to him. Then he realized that Greg was like that with almost everyone.
"What, you don't already know?" Greg asked, giving the room another once-over.
Tom grinned. Greg must have been checking for Voyager's biggest gossip. "Harry's still in engineering."
"Ah, that explains it," Greg said.
Tom shook his head, wondering what exactly that had explained.
Lots of people had been after Tom for the latest gossip that night. After all, he had been in a perfect position to watch everything as it happened. But Tom couldn't really make heads or tails of it himself, and hadn't seen any use in adding his speculation. Gossiping about the command team could be a really bad idea for one of the senior staff.
Greg was different. Greg listened to rumors, but he didn't repeat them. Not to anyone. ...well, Tom had some doubts when it came to Chakotay. The two were as close as brothers, so Greg's questions weren't just idle curiosity. And if Greg wanted to know the latest details about his 'Cap,' he could have 'em.
"Chakotay's been pissed off at Captain Janeway all night," Tom said. "Which shocked the shit out of me. He was fine when he came back on duty. I swear, I'll never understand that man. Put him under house arrest for no good reason, and he just shrugs it off. Then out of nowhere, he's pissed. They must have had a spectacular argument or something, but no one saw it happen."
"I see," Greg said. He nodded toward Chakotay, who hadn't moved a millimeter since Tom had entered. "I'll go get him. Rack 'em up."
Playing pool with Greg was a relative phrase. The man was strictly an observer. So, if Chakotay could be separated from his glass, Greg would stand nearby, nursing a beer and baiting Chakotay.
When the pyramid of balls was set exactly as Tom liked it, he took a moment to look across the room. Greg was sitting across from Chakotay, and their heads were bowed in quiet discussion.
Tom shook his head in wonder. Chakotay would have given him a quick brush off and sent him on his way.
Then they both stood and headed toward the door. That was quick. Too quick. Chakotay didn't even give Greg a chance. Chakotay paused at the table of Equinox crewmen, cordially acknowledging them as a good XO should. But wait, they were heading for the pool table. Tom hid his surprise as he beckoned to Sandrine.
"Hello, Tom," Chakotay said softly. He looked weary, but the coiled tension and anger was gone.
"Hey, Chakotay," Tom answered with a small flyboy smile. He handed over his cue stick and pulled another from the rack.
Sandrine came over to take their drink order -- gin and tonic with a twist for Tom, beer for Greg, and iced tea for Chakotay.
Chakotay broke, then stood back, examining the set-up. As expected, Greg took the moment to start the conversation.
Quietly enough that no one but Tom and Chakotay could hear him, Greg asked, "So, anyone checked out the fresh meat?" He gazed meaningfully at the table of Equinox crewmen.
Tom held his breath to keep from laughing. Fresh meat? More like dead fish. Not that anyone could blame them. They were still huddled together, a textbook example of paranoia and apprehension. But at least it seemed they had finally found something to talk about.
Chakotay was still eying the pool table. He shrugged and suggested, "I guess Marla Gilmore isn't bad looking."
It was a joke worthy of Tuvok.
...it was a joke. Right?
Greg grinned at Chakotay, his eyes sparkling. "...if you like blonds."
Tom was stunned when he saw Chakotay's reaction. He turned and fixed Greg with his command glare -- not as frightening as Janeway's, but still -- and the slightest hint of a blush crept up his cheeks.
Well, well. The commander was embarrassed.
Tom unsuccessfully tried to hide his smirk. It didn't matter; Chakotay was too focused on Greg to notice. Tom ran through the list of blonds on board, dying to know who had caught his eye. His mind spun out at the idea of Chakotay and Seven.
"Actually," Greg continued, not bothering to notice Chakotay's ire, "I was thinking more of two meters or so of pure milk chocolate."
Tom took a good look at Noah Lessing. The man wasn't hard on the eyes, even if he was a bit on the thin side. And young. He must have been fresh from the Academy when he started out on Equinox. But then, everyone knew Greg liked younger men.
By the time Tom looked back, Chakotay was perfectly calm and composed. The silent conversation between the two must have been intense. He was sorry he'd missed it.
"Greg," Chakotay sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why do you have to go after *him*?"
"Hmm?" Greg asked, staring in earnest at the crewman.
"All I'm saying is, Lessing strikes me as a ladies' man."
"Yeah," Tom agreed, surprised that Chakotay had said it.
"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying," Greg said, unfazed.
"Yes I can," Chakotay groused. "I get to hear all the gory details when he turns you down." He punctuated the comment by a smooth shot that sent two solids to their pockets. The game was on.
---
Disclaimer: Yes, I know Paramount owns Star Trek and its characters. I'm jealous, so I'm playing with their old toys. Everything will be back in the sandbox by morning.
All hail JJ, the almighty beta!
Please feed the author! Critical, nitpicky feedback is always adored!