PART III


“ Tom!”

Oh no. Just who he didn't want to see.

Eyes alight, Harry Kim bounded after him, just slipping through the turbolift doors before they slid shut. He looked at Paris expectantly, and inquired cheerfully, “So?”

“ So, what?” Paris snapped, voice surly. His temples throbbed relentlessly, and his face was lined with exhaustion.

“ You *know* what,” Harry prompted expectantly, dark eyes glittering with mirth. He waved a hand quickly, a grin splitting his lips. “ You know? The enhancer?”

Tom sighed, his eyes sinking closed. “ Yeah. I know.”

“ So, what happened?”

There was a long moment of silence, penetrated only by the hum of the turbolift.

Voice grave, Kim said quietly, “ It didn't work, did it? She caught you.”

The turbolift doors opened, and Paris walked out, Harry trailing at his heels.

“ No, Harry,” Paris said quietly, barely above a whisper, “ It worked out.”

Relief washed over Kim's face. “ Well? What happened? Was she embarrassed?”

“ Yep. She was embarrassed.”

Kim's dark eyes flickered over him questioningly, and he said slowly, “ Well, that was the point, wasn't it? After all that's happened recently, we did want to poke a little fun at her.”

“ Yep.”

Kim gripped his arm firmly, pulling him to a stop. Black eyes bore into blue. “So *what* is wrong?”

Tom's eyes flickered away from Kim's. A sour laugh escaped his lips. “ We're idiots, Harry, that's what's wrong. Complete and utter idiots.”

Kim drew back in surprise, but before he could think of anything to say, Paris slid past him and disappeared down the corridor.

* * *

“ And he just left. Not that it's any of my business, but is something going on?”

B'Elanna gazed absently into her coffee. She shrugged noncommittally, and murmured, “ Not that I know of. He's been perfectly fine around me.”

“ But he's been acting so strange. He's been back for four days now, and it seems almost like he's avoiding me. If he's mad at me about something, I'm sure he'd have told me by now.” Harry leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly, stupefied. “ The way he's acting-- it's just not like Tom.”

B'Elanna stared into space for a long moment, then suddenly peered at him, eyes narrowed. “ Just what did you two talk about?”

“ Nothing,” Harry replied. His cheeks flushed.

B'Elanna sat up straight, glaring keenly at him. “ Harry, *what*?”

“ Nothing!”

A meditative silence passed as Torres tapped her fingers upon the table, scrutinizing Kim's expression carefully. Harry tried to school his features into nonchalance, but he wasn't Harry-Read-Me-Like-a-Book Kim for nothing. Torres leaned over the table, towards him. “ There's something you're trying to hide from me. Tell me.”

“ You're paranoid.” Kim snapped.

“ And you're a bad liar,” Torres rejoined. She leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers in a mock imitation of Tuvok. A wry little smirk tugged at her lips, and she informed him, “ We're in a calm region of space and we reloaded four days ago. Do you know what that means Harry?” Silence. “ It means that I have a lot of time on my hands. A lot. I could wait all day. Do you catch my meaning, Harry? All day.”

Kim gulped.

A satisfied smile ghosted her lips. Nope, definitely not Harry-Read-Me-Like-a- Book Kim for nothing. He would tell her everything she wanted to know.

He opened his mouth, then hesitated, battling his lingering reluctance. Torres raised her eyebrows, eyes challenging him to protest as she said coolly, “ I'm waiting, Harry.”

He was acutely aware of the ridges that marked the Klingon blood in her.

He gulped again.

* * *


“ Good morning, Tom,”

“ Good morning, Captain.”

She lingered by the conn a moment, gazing at the starscape displayed on the viewscreen. Paris glanced up at her curiously. Her posture was more relaxed than yesterday, and a good night's sleep had reduced the shadows under her eyes. He became acutely conscious of the shadows under his own eyes.

“ Quiet day,” She remarked, still gazing at the viewscreen.

“ Yeah. Kind of relaxing,” Paris replied.

She shifted, and her gaze slipped from the viewscreen to him. She took a step closer. “ How are you, Tom?” Her voice was quiet enough to confine it to him.

“ I've been better,” Paris admitted honestly.

She gave him a characteristic half smirk, then her eyes softened. “ You look like hell. Go get some sleep.”

“ I can manage--” Paris began, but was silenced when her hand landed on his shoulder, her touch soft against uniform. He was surprised when his skin tingled.

“ I understand the... strain left over from the Riyalan negotiation.” She murmured. He nodded, understanding her meaning. She continued, with a soft smile, “ Let's just relax and recover for a while. Okay?”

At the look of understanding in her eyes, he felt a great weight lifted from his chest. No shame, no awkwardness. A mistake. Mistakes were forgivable. They were human. He smiled almost against his will, and whispered, “ Thank you, Captain.”

She grinned, and replied, “ Never say I didn't give you anything.”

He grinned back, lingering for a moment, her hand resting comfortably upon his shoulder. Kathryn gazed at him fondly, then realized herself and stepped away from him. He rose and swept past her. The soft patter of his footsteps retreated to the turbolift.

She heard the door swish open, and the soft murmur of, “ Chakotay,” “ Tom,” Heavy footsteps padded down to stand at her shoulder.

“ Good morning, Commander.”

He stood close enough that she could feel his breath lightly upon her neck. “ I trust you got some sleep?” He whispered.

“ Yes, I did. And,” She craned her neck to look at him, a genuine smile on her lips, “ Thank you.”

Chakotay smiled in return, and the two commanding officers retreated to their chairs. Chakotay flipped up a report he was reviewing, and Janeway started working on her console. Dark eyes intent upon the report, he inquired in a casual voice, “ Why is Tom leaving so soon?”

Her eyes didn't stray from the console. “ He looked tired. I did him a favor and sent him to bed.”

“ Sounds like those Riyalans really wore you two out.”

She did not reply. Her console chirped softly as she tapped in figures.

Chakotay looked up from the report at her silence, and noticed the glassy, faraway look in her eyes. She must have felt his gaze, because suddenly her eyes slinked up and locked with his. He quickly looked back down at the report. After a few minutes of reading the same sentence over and over again, the tangible silence became deafening. He let his gaze stray from the report, and he found himself watching her again. A vein pulsed in her forehead, and suddenly she swept to her feet.

“ You have the bridge, Commander. I'll be in my readyroom,” She announced.

Chakotay nodded almost imperceptibly, and pretended to look at the report until the readyroom doors closed. Almost simultaneously, the turbolift doors hissed open. Chakotay peered over his shoulder to see the new arrival, and nodded courteously.

“ Good morning, Tuvok.”

“ Good morning, Commander.” Ayala relinquished Tuvok's console and the Vulcan methodically began his morning diagnostics. He glanced up briefly from his console to note the staff members on the bridge. Janeway and Paris were absent. Curious. The Captain retreated to her readyroom within ten minutes of the start of her shift; she usually waited at least thirty minutes into her shift to exercise that option. The first security diagnostic completed. He scanned the data thoroughly and began the second.

Again, he surveyed the bridge, and noted the unusual quiet. Usually either Commander Chakotay, Ensign Paris, or Captain Janeway would strike up a dialogue which aided in amusing the junior officers and in passing the time. A comfortable bridge atmosphere, though normally inexpedient onboard a military vessel, had proved conducive to promote the efficiency and attentiveness of the officers on duty.

He glanced up mildly when the turbolift door slid open. Torres burst into the bridge, glancing around quickly. As far as Tuvok could recall, Torres manned engineering during the morning. She never came to the bridge until at least 1100 hours. He caulked a curious eyebrow at her, but she seemed oblivious.

“ B'Elanna?” Chakotay asked questioningly, on his feet.

Her scrutiny of the bridge complete, she said brusquely, “ It's nothing,” Then she disappeared back into the turbolift.

Chakotay stared after her, a frown twisted upon his lips. His eyes met Tuvok's, and the two men both understood that the other was as stupefied as he. They broke the eye contact. Chakotay's gaze shifted towards the readyroom, and lingered there for a long moment. An queer, unsettling smile pulled at his lips. His eyes were not smiling.

“ Tuvok,” He spoke at last. He ripped his gaze from the readyroom to acknowledge the Vulcan. “ You have the bridge.”

Less than ten minutes into his shift. *Very curious.* Tuvok noted.

Chakotay was oblivious to the Vulcan's gaze as he rang the chime.

“ Come in!”

The doors swept aside. He caught sight of her at her desk, combing over an array of scattered padds. Her blue eyes darted up only briefly to catch sight of him, then she looked back down.

“ What can I do for you, Commander?”

He hesitated a few feet from her desk, fumbling for words, mildly embarrassed for disturbing her work for what seemed now a trivial matter. Finally, he came up with, “What's going on, Kathryn?”

She looked up sharply. “ Nothing. Why?” Her tone was casual. A bit too casual.

Chakotay shrugged, ambled over to stand directly in front of the desk. “ You've been acting strangely lately.”

“ It's been a long week.”

Chakotay accepted this with a nod. “ I understand that. But you're not the only one.”

“ Oh?” She leaned her chin upon her hand and peered up at him.

“ Paris.”

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “ I told you, the conference was draining.”

Chakotay nodded again, jaw clenched. “ B'Elanna Torres.”

Janeway flushed, and her eyes darted away from his. “ She must be stir crazy. There's not much going on in engineering.”

“ Harry Kim.”

She glanced up at him, brow furrowed. He could tell she was genuinely confused.

“ What's wrong with him?”

“ He's been distracted the past few days. Almost missed seeing a microfilament of orobenzite that registered in our flight path.” Janeway winced. Orobenzite was not something you wanted to run into.

“ I had no idea.”

Chakotay scrutinized her with eyes that seemed to see into her soul. Finally, he spoke quietly, “ You're lying to me, Kathryn.”

Janeway gaped at him incredulously. “ I'm not lying. I really have no idea what's happening with Harry Kim.”

“ But you know what's going on with Paris and Torres.”

“ I don't know what's going on with Paris and Torres,” She shot back.

“ But you think there is something going on,” He pressed.

She sighed, threw the padd she was clutching down onto her desk with a clatter. “You are an impossible man, Chakotay.”

“ You wouldn't have me any other way,” He replied, eyes crinkling with a smile.

She gazed at him for a long, silent moment.

As if making a decision, she sobered, and said quietly, “ This is not a matter for the first officer.”

“ Then it can be a matter for your friend.”

Her eyes flickered. “ I don't know if you're going to like this, Chakotay.”

“ You know you can tell me anything, Kathryn. Anything,” he assured her.

* * *

Warm breath tickled his jaw, and a long, wet kiss softened his lips. A few questions pierced his cloudy mind, but the ecstasy of sensation clouded them into a fading mist. The pad of a tickling finger trailed down the side of his neck and under his collar, tingling the skin beneath his shirt. Fingers tangled in his nest of chest hair. The lips brushed light kisses against his eyelids.

“ Hmmm, that feels good,” He slurred. He managed to force his eyes open against the heavy blackness, desiring to see the beautiful blue eyes, to bathe in their warmth.

The midnight eyes met his in the dimness, and a smile shadowed her lips. “ Sleeping when you're supposed to be on duty? Naughty boy.”

“ Captain's orders.” He swept an arm around her back to press her body to his, and his lips pressed up to meet hers. The two lovers lingered in a slow, hungry kiss. B'Elanna pushed away first.

“ We need to talk, Tom,” she said quietly.

Tom woke up completely at the statement--the classic statement for a woman about to dump a man. “ What is it?”

The bedsheets rustled as she slid off of him, plopping onto the mattress besides him. Her dark eyes held his gaze.

“ Tom, Harry told me about the prank.”

Paris reddened. “ Oh.”

“ You didn't get her too pissed off, did you?” Torres queried.

Paris hesitated momentarily, then murmured, “ I don't think she knows it was a prank yet.”

Torres smiled indulgently, shaking her head. “ You two have got to be the biggest idiots I've ever met. Who came up with that hairball idea?”

“ Uh... Harry.”

She laughed. “ Sure, sure, Helmboy. This has you written all over it.”

“ You shouldn't have asked if you'd already decided on your own,” Paris muttered, trying to hide his frazzled nerves from her. This subject was too close for comfort.

“ Okay, so maybe it was Harry,” Torres abjured. “ It's still incredibly stupid. It sounds like something I would've expected from a highschooler.”

“ Well, it's over now.”

She nodded thoughtfully. She hadn't quite forgiven Janeway for forcing that unwanted surgical procedure from the Cardassian murderer upon her, or her callous attitude afterwards. She remembered Janeway's dispassionate words, “ I'm the captain, you're my crewman. Understood?” She remembered Janeway's supercilious attitude during Tom's time in the brig.

An iniquitous gleam sparked her eyes. “ So, what happened?”

Paris felt sick.

B'Elanna watched his expression wilt, and genuine concern washed through her. She was distinctly uncomfortable, unaccustomed to dealing with this kind of behavior from him. Finally, she asked, “ What's wrong?” She laid her hand upon his shoulder.

Tom looked down at her hand, and his eyes were large and sad. “ B'Ela, you'd better take your hand away. You're not going to want to touch me after what I tell you.”

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.

Paris sighed raggedly. “ It worked. I substituted the enhancer into her alcohol booster, then I took the alcohol booster myself. You know the safety plan-- if a crisis came up, I'd simply administer the antidote, everyone back to normal. In the meantime, give her a night to live in infamy. Just a prank. Maybe she would've done nothing when she was drunk-- no dancing on tables or bellowing bawdy tunes, in which case I could hint at a few things that would make her wonder.

“ Well, this is where my idiocy truly plays in. Somehow or other, the alcohol booster and enhancer were mixed up, and later, when I took mine, it turned out to be hers. We both got very drunk, very quickly.” His eyes shot to hers to gauge her expression. She remained carefully impassive.

“ Go on,” she urged.

Paris closed his eyes. “ Well, at some point or another, we ended up leaving, going to my chamber. I don't remember much, neither of us do, but--” He stopped, his voice choking. “ We had sex, B'Elanna.”

He didn't dare look at her. Her hand was suddenly very cold and stiff against his shoulder, but she did not remove it.

The room was penetrated by silence.

The lights hadn't been turned on when she entered his quarters. The only illumination was provided by the bright stars streaking by the viewport, and the soft glow of the room's various computer consoles. The quiet hum of the ships engines grew loud.

The silence lasted too long, and the unresponsiveness alarmed Tom more than if she had yelled and screamed at him. He finally dared to look at her, and even in the darkness knew she had paled.

“ B'Elanna?” He inquired softly.

Her only response was to remove her hand from his shoulder and slide off of the bed. Her feet landed on the carpet with a soft plunk.

“ B'Elanna--” His voice was ragged, and tears made his eyes glisten.

“ Don't talk to me.” She rasped, voice choked with emotion. “ Just don't talk to me.”

Paris was relieved momentarily at her response-- the passionate B'Elanna he knew.

“ Listen, I'm not going to make excuses for what I did--” He grasped her arm lightly.

“ That's good, because there's no way in hell I would listen to them.” She hissed, ripping away from his hand and tearing across the quarters towards the door. She stopped before she exited, whirling around to glare at him, her eyes blazing, lips twisted into a snarl.

“ How could you be such an idiot, Tom? My God!” She laughed harshly. “ You are such a fucking... cad!” She darted out the doors into the bright corridor.

The splinters of light faded when the door hissed shut. Paris stared after her desolately for a few moments, silent and unmoving in the darkness, breath coming stertorously. He had no split lip, no black eye, nothing as physically painful as he expected.

But no physical ailment could be as terrible as the pain ripping him up inside.

* * *


Chakotay stood before her, stiff and at attention. His face was impassive, but she could see his temples throbbing with his anger, and the blazing of his cold eyes. She felt a twisting, agonized shame deep inside of her, but, curiously, not about the act itself. She was ashamed about lying to him, and that she had put off relations with him for so long and then undermined herself by just having sex with her attached helmsman, but not actually about breaking her five years of celibacy.

She glanced back up at him, at his hardness, and she realized she couldn't confront him. She wasn't up to it. She couldn't give him a formal, commanding officer don't-mess-with-my-authority speech. No, not right now. It would be out of place. It would be hypocritical. She let out a weary breath and her shoulders slumped lifelessly.

Kathryn wasn't aware she had turned away from him until she noticed his movement reflected in the viewport. He was stepping to the side, slightly, to try to see her face, which she had carefully averted away from him. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, but made no move to shield herself from him. He might take it the wrong way.

“ I just don't understand.” His voice was neutral, level in the unnaturally quiet atmosphere. It was as smooth as velvet, and masked the underlying turbulence of his emotion. It was deceptively kind, and Kathryn's arms hugged across her chest tighter. “I don't understand why you put off our relationship because you can't afford to compromise the command structure; you string me along--” He paused to adjust his tone, which had become too harsh on the last three words, back to the neutral voice he had been using. “--You string me along, for four years, and then you...” He couldn't say it. “ You compromise your own command structure.” He paused, and then his words stung her, “With Tom Paris, of all people!”

Kathryn involuntarily flinched, and he noticed, but he wasn't in any mood to be charitable. He felt his own wounds aching, and he was out for blood.

“ It wasn't like that, Chakotay. I... It wasn't like that,” she replied hesitantly, unable to respond.

“ Then what was it like?” That neutral tone again. Damn him.

“ It wasn't like *that*. It wasn't something I just did...”

He laughed harshly and replied. “ You *fucked* him, Kathryn! If that's not something you just did...”

She paled, mortified at his casual reference to her mistake, and at the anger in his voice. She spun her back to him to hide her expression.

“ We were drunk, Chakotay.” She began carefully, “ That doesn't excuse us, but--”

“ Damn right it doesn't excuse you!” He snapped angrily.

She whirled on him angrily, fists clenched and eyes blazing. She was at her wits end. “ And who are you to judge our actions! For Christ's sake, Chakotay, I can *fuck* whoever the hell I want to and you have no say in it, whatsoever. Who appointed you moral authority on this ship? And what the hell kind of a hypocrite are you to berate me for this? You fucked Riley, you say you fucked 'Kellin', or whatever the hell her name was, and god knows how many other alien women on the way!”

“ Those were different...” He began angrily.

“ How the hell was it any different?” She demanded harshly. “ It was different because you were consensual in all of it. Paris and I were drunk, our judgment was impaired. We didn't get drunk because of our own actions. It was because our alcohol boosters failed that one night. My God, Chakotay... You have no *right* whatsoever to lecture me on the proper conduct of a starfleet captain--”

“ When it comes to the safety of this ship, as first officer, it is exactly my duty to inform you of your mistakes!--”

“ But this isn't about the ship, is it Chakotay? Don't even say it is. Even your hypocrisy has to have its limits.” She cut him off angrily.

“ So I'm a hypocrite now?” He demanded angrily. “ And no, this isn't about ship's safety. This is about you, and me. I have waited. I haven't been involved with any other woman on this ship. I have waited because I thought one day you might find room for me in that busy life of yours, that I might one day penetrate that armed fortress you call a heart, only to have some cocky, hot shot asshole pilot end up on one night undermining everything I've worked for!”

“ So that's what I am now? I'm a reward for hard work? Is that all I am to you? Something you get after you expend enough effort?” She demanded angrily.

He glared at her, drew in a sharp breath for his retort, but let it out slowly as his shoulders slowly drooped. “ No, you're not.”

That was all he said before he turned away from her and left. He walked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, or like a fatigued soldier walking away from a lost war. Kathryn felt her eyes stinging with unshed tears as the doors slid closed behind him. She turned back to the window and glanced at the darkness of space. She, too, felt like she had just lost her war.

Part IV

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