Disclaimer: I don't own them, I wish I did, but I don't. Go watch the show and thank the powers that be for a loveable series. Please don't sue me. I'm poor and have nothing better to do with my life.

Author's Notes: Profanity and drinking ahoy. I'm sorry they end up drunk in my stories so much. A lot of references to "Thirty Days" and Tom's Brig stay.

Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Cobwebs

"Best day of my life." Tom Paris beams widely and swallows a generous mouthful of cider. He looks like the cat that got the cream, smothered himself in it and rolled around in sprinkles.

Somehow, on this strange journey we're all undertaking, I have become friends with Tom Paris and have found myself regularly invited to his quarters for meals with B'Elanna and Harry.

Sometimes the mess-hall can be a bit overwhelming after a busy day and sometimes you just don't want fifty people overhearing the conversation, especially if it involves the Captain dressed like a gothic Christmas tree.

It's actually nice, something I don't think I could ever have imagined saying. Having people to talk to and unwind who aren't on their guard because you're the first officer. Torres has been a permanent fixture in my life for the last decade, it would seem strange to sever that tie just because we're Starfleet officers now.

Harry I've watched grow from an over excitable, annoying boy to a semi-annoying man. It's somewhat fulfilling to know that we've all had a part in Harry Kim's journey to manhood and he will be a fine Captain one day, he's also wickedly funny when he's had too much to drink so I can't say I mind spending time with him.

Tom however… has been a long game. I could quite honestly have punched him square in the face more times than I care to remember but his recent Brig stay after disobeying orders and standing up for what he believed in gave me a new-found respect for the once delinquent and troubled young man.

Today had been Tom's not so quiet revenge for the injustice he felt for being confined to the Brig for thirty days. A situation had presented itself and he had taken the opportunity to rejig the scales between him and the Captain while also recementing his role in her life as lovable miscreant that she sought out when few others would have. She had presented Tom with a redemption as she had done so to me, it's something in Kathryn's nature to save others, something I imagine stems from her difficult and troubling past of not being able to save others she cared for.

This had been the first major bump in the road in their relationship of surrogate mother and son, well if you don't count the time he kidnapped her and had lizard babies with her, but they have always maintained a friendship beneath their duty that had given Tom his life back and had given Kathryn someone to rely on when all things are going to shit.

His disobedience in the matter with the Moneans had been somewhat of a sore point with both Kathryn and Tom ever since it had happened, Tom considered his confinement as something akin to torture, denied his rank and privileges, denied all contact with the crew bar the bare minimum and with only a writing Padd for company, Tom stewed for thirty days on the incident, himself and Kathryn with little distraction from his demons and a bitterness has remained within him.

Kathryn tortured herself the entire time of his Brig stay, keeping her contact with the crew bare minimum herself and stewed in her Ready Room over more coffee than any Doctor would recommend and an already present guilt that surrounds her constantly. She felt she had been too harsh, she had perhaps gone too far and most of all, she was troubled by how ready she had been to fire a torpedo at him in the Delta Flyer because of the damned Prime Directive and its shackles around her every breath.

Today had fixed the distance between them and had also served to entertain the shit out of the rest of us, so all in all I couldn't be prouder of Tom Paris and his vengeance and can only hope that there is a next time, where I would quite like to be a part of the costume designing.

"I didn't think she'd actually agree to wearing it, I had a more toned-down version as backup ready because I was sure she was going to refuse." Tom shakes his head in disbelief, as though he can't believe it actually happened. Thank the Spirits it did.

"That woman surprises me every day." Torres admits, I can honestly say I agree and that's what makes Kathryn Janeway so damn intriguing, not only does she keep you guessing, you can never actually pin down who she is, she just gives out little breadcrumbs of information like she's feeding hungry ducks without giving the whole loaf away.

"Do you think she'll play Captain Proton with us again?" Kim asks hopefully.

"Not unless hell freezes over Harry." Paris replies bluntly.

"I think the Captain enjoys her holo-adventures to be a bit more sedate that death-ray wielding mad men." B'Elanna finishes her glass of cider and reaches for the bottle.

"You've got to be kidding me, have you ever played any of her holo-novels? The master of the house spent most of his time trying to bang me when I played the last one she recommended." Everyone turns to look at Tom with open mouths as he talks. "All those corsets and heaving bosoms, she might seem all prim and proper but I bet she's got one hell of a kinky streak in her."

What the hell does Kathryn do on the holodeck? I always was under the impression she was in classic literature and history, not… whatever Tom's implying…

"It's always the quiet ones you've got to look out for, they always turn out to be the freaky ones." Nods B'Elanna.

The three of them silently look at me and I realise that was a jab at both the Captain and myself.

"I haven't a clue what you're on about."

"Oh come off it, the Val Jean was a small ship Chakotay, I heard it all, regularly." Torres looks at me pointedly.

"Same goes for you." I reply and her look withers somewhat. I did hear it and at one point I would have been intrigued to discover for myself what all the noises were about but that has long since passed, Torres is like family now. For the record though it sounded like a pack of howler monkeys ripping apart a hyena.

"You can play the aloof and brooding card as much as you like, I've spent too much time with you to know it's bullshit." B'Elanna winks at me.

"I refuse to believe the Captain is…" Harry swallows hard and seems unable to finish the sentence, lost in a sea of imagination he wasn't planning on visiting. To think of Kathryn as anything other than the Captain is impossible for 99 percent of the crew and to be in a conversation where her kinky side is being discussed and theorised is causing Harry some awkward discomfort. Me too.

"She's a human Har, you can't expect her to live like a monk just because she's a Captain." Tom would have a valid point if it weren't for damned protocol and the fact she lives so rigidly by it that it leaves little room for her to be anything but a Captain.

"But it's like… Knowing your Mom… does… stuff…" Harry swallows hard again still unable to follow the train of thought to the station where his Captain has a sex life.

"Your Mom definitely does, little minx that she is." Tom grins and Harry pales, Torres nearly chokes on her cider and I bury a laugh behind my own glass off cider.

"Who can say what the Captain is like behind closed doors, she spends too much time with her head in padds drinking coffee." Torres shakes her head at what she considers probably to be a waste of time and life. I can actually agree with that.

"All that caffeine must make her go off like a rocket in bed." Muses Tom before B'Elanna unleashes an elbow into his ribs, Harry spit-chokes a mouthful of cider over himself and I pretend I've suddenly developed hearing loss to avoid any further awkwardness.

"Jeez Tom what the hell is wrong with you?!" she spits before rolling her eyes in disgust.

"What? I've got a healthy imagination, I'm sure I'm not the only one who imagines she's a firecracker in bed." Suddenly all eyes are on me again and suddenly I don't like where this is going.

I remain quiet and take another sip of cider and suddenly find the wall interesting enough to stare at until they stop staring at me.

Tom nods knowingly at Torres who smirks, as does Harry.

Oh Gods.

They know.

Do they know?

Oh Gods.

"You've spent the most time with the Captain, hell you were stranded with her for weeks on that bug planet, what is she really like?" B'Elanna asks, her face drowning in a smirk that is entirely too smug for my liking, she's enjoying this far too much.

"Private." I've got my best serious voice and face on, but I'm struggling to remain so, New Earth isn't a topic I like to discuss. Ever. The spark of memories is something I wish to avoid and the mere mention of the planet-of-the-cockblockers is making me nervous. I find myself fidgeting with my Comm-badge in an effort to distract my brain from going to places it really doesn't want to visit.

A table of visibly disappointed faces stare back at me but I remain silent. If Kathryn knew we were having this conversation she'd have us scrubbing Chell's toilet with a toothbrush all the way home. It's not the conversation I would like to find myself in but somehow, shit finds a way to me.

"Party-pooper." Tom sticks his tongue out and refills his glass. I'm starting to become concerned about the amount of my Antarian cider that has disappeared this evening. I only have a limited supply squirreled away and I'm not about to let this deviant drink all of it. Besides I've had more than enough of this conversation and I want out before Kathryn has all of our heads for trophies on the Ready room wall.

"I should really be going." I start to rise as a chorus of disapproval erupts from them all, like children denied one more fairy-tale before bed.

"Oh come on big man, the night's barely a puppy, lets rip the roof off!" Paris throws a generous amount of cider down his throat as B'Elanna reaches for his glass and confiscates it.

"I think someone's had enough to drink, wouldn't you say?" She levels a look of threat in his direction and he visually shrinks back into his seat.

"Thank you for a lovely evening." I pick up the bottle and head to the door, thankful to escape before things get too messy and before I get to a point where they might actually get something resembling the truth regarding Kathryn.

Not that I actually know what that truth is. I can't label or even explain Kathryn at the best of times, I do know however that it would not do her justice to attempt it whilst drunk.

B'Elanna follows me to the door and as it opens, she leans in close and whispers, out of range of Kim and Paris to hear.

"You can't pretend forever Chakotay, at least not to me." She eyes me suspiciously and I feel a warmth creep across my cheeks as the cider and embarrassment combine to betray me.

"I can try." I smile and leave.

With little else to do with the night, I begin the gentle, if not slightly drunker than I had anticipated, walk back to my quarters.

There is something incredibly calming about walking Voyager, something to do with the gentle hum of the ship itself and the squishy cushion of the carpet beneath my inebriated feet, it's like cloud walking home to a chorus of bees. The Val Jean had been too much of a metal bucket to ever feel homely, but Voyager could easily pass as a luxury liner given the opportunity. It's not exactly a dream but it's far more comfortable than the brig I would have been confined to, or the rusty tin can of a ship I was riding into my moral battles.

The thought of a rusty tin can reminds me, I forgot to tell Seven that the Transporter maintenance schedule for next week needs to happen tomorrow, Ensign Orbus reported a glitch in the pattern buffers that was giving him a headache to fix, just before I finished my Bridge duty. They'd be out of action until Seven can take a look.

As I reach for my badge, I realise it's not there.

Shit.

For a moment I consider if I'm waaaaaaaaaay drunker than first thought, or if I have indeed lost it, then I remember fiddling with it during the conversation with Torres, Paris and Kim. It must have fallen off, I was always told too much fiddling would make things fall off, I just didn't take it this literally.

Ah damnit.

The thought of going back isn't particularly a happy one but I need it none the less, reluctantly I turn around and trudge back to the cabin of the demented.