Tom stood in the doorway, looking at his daughter. Holding his arms around his waist, for fear he might fall over, he leaned against the jamb. Martis was sleeping fitfully, occasionally twitching, making a small noise as her breath caught. After a momentary lull, her breathing would start again. He watched her small chest moving rhythmically up and down, and wondered if he himself were breathing at all.
Creeping silently to her bedside, he settled himself on the floor next to her and laid his arm on the covers by her head. Words of comfort played over and over in his mind. I'm sorry, Martis. It'll be okay. I love you. I'll do the best I can for you. .. But it was always with that final promise that his thinking got scrambled, and he ended up standing at the edge of the pit. Waiting for someone to push him over, and failure once again to be a part of his life.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. He held up his hand to reassure Chakotay that he was fine, that the man could go to bed and not worry about him. Knowing his lover would still worry, he could only make another promise. That he'd never let Chakotay know how he was feeling -- saying it would hurt him deeply. For Tom was feeling like a single parent.
Grief was what he couldn't let himself experience. Kes was gone. He had no idea why she would abandon their child. And no matter what she told him, or what she'd said a year and a half before when asking him to be Martis' father, she couldn't have really believed that he could do this. Not this. Not be the girl's father and mother. Not him.
He leaned his head against the bed and closed his eyes, listening to his daughter's breathing and willed the numbness to fill his heart again. Numbness he could cope with.
Chakotay waited an hour, then put his book down on the bedside table and got back out of bed. There was little chance he'd sleep without Tom there, and he wasn't about to let the man he loved more than his own life spend the night on the floor of Martis' room. Tom needed some serious sleep. Chakotay doubted he'd gotten more than one or two hours in the two days since Kes had left. He wasn't even sure what to call it. She didn't die, not exactly. She was simply gone. To something she said was bigger and more important than herself, something she was certain was her destiny.
That she'd gotten Voyager 30,000 light years further on their journey was completely irrelevant in his mind. He didn't care, and his captain was not pleased about that fact. Kathryn was sympathetic, of course, and grieving in her own way, of course. But she saw Kes' gift as something wonderful, and precious, and worthy of the young woman who'd brought so much to so many lives on the ship. Chakotay simply didn't care. He knew what her departure was going to mean to three lives in particular. Two of whom were wonderful, and precious, and worth everything to him.
He walked across the living area and into his daughter's room. Tom looked up.
"Come on, love," he said, approaching him, "come to bed. You need some sleep." He squatted slightly and pulled gently on Tom's elbow. The man didn't resist. They took a moment to make sure the girl was tucked in properly, then left.
"She's just a six year old, Chak," Tom said so quietly he almost didn't hear him.
It was the point his lover continued to repeat. He said what he always said. "We'll do the best we can for her, Tom. The very best we can."
Tom tensed at his side, but Chakotay had learned over the past two days not to ask why. He'd never get an answer.
No other words were exchanged as they got into bed. Tom rested in the circle of his arms, drifting to sleep, finally relaxing fully on his chest, breathing slowly and deeply. Minutes later, he allowed himself to follow. When he awoke again, some hours after that, Tom was curled on his side near the edge of the bed. Chakotay hesitated, then rolled toward him, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling himself against Tom's back and, once again, fell asleep.
Chakotay woke up earlier than normal that next morning, so he took advantage of the time and got his personal ablution out of the way. After dressing quietly and then making himself a cup of tea, he peeked in on Martis.
She was sleeping on her side, much like her Da, facing the doorway. Clutching her dog tightly to her chest. Tom had made her that stuffed toy, explaining to a disbelieving Kes that on Earth people kept animals as pets and therefore wanted toys to reflect this custom. Neelix was just as astounded. The child, however, had loved it from the second it was placed in her hands. And it looked to Chakotay like it was due for a cycle in the refresher. If she'd allow it.
Martis opened her eyes and stretched. Seeing him, she smiled and held out her arms. He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her into a gentle embrace, whispering a good morning, getting a sleepy reply as she rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled. After some minutes of this, he offered breakfast. She accepted, and they went to the dining area with her still in his arms, claiming she was too tired to walk. He acquiesced without argument.
"Want some karuli melon?" He said, standing at the replicator. He ordered juice for them both while he waited for an answer.
"Yes, please," she replied, yawning. "And toast."
He turned and smiled. "With peanut butter?" She nodded. Her father's own child, no doubt about it. But before he could place this order, Tom's voice broke into the quiet of the moment.
"Why didn't you wake me?" He asked sharply.
Chakotay was confused. Looking at his lover, he was even more confused. Tom looked irritated as he sat down next to Martis, taking her hands and studying them intently.
"She hasn't washed yet. She should have had her bath first." His tone was accusatory.
"She's hungry, Tom. She can wash after breakfast," he answered, trying to speak more calmly than he felt. "Would you like something to eat, too? We're having melon and toast." Martis' eyes were big, and she picked up her dog, looking from Tom to him and back again.
But rather than answering, Tom got up and left.
Chakotay told Martis he'd be right back and followed the man. He found him in the bathroom, wetting a cloth.
"Tom, what's going on?"
"I'm going to clean her hands before she eats," he said, in that same sharp tone, "and I'll fix her breakfast. Don't you have to start your shift or something?"
Chakotay told himself right then that he should stay loving, and calm, that Tom was grieving, and needed him to be the strong one. At the same time, a cold knife was sliding slowly through the wall of his chest and heading for his heart. Before he could think of something to say, Tom left the bathroom without a backward glance. The knife hit home. He'd failed to stop it.
Martis sat on a stool in the mess hall kitchen, enjoying the activity surrounding her as Neelix prepared dinner. This was the place where she knew she could always find comfort and familiarity. Peace, and contentment.
"Sweetie," said Neelix as he stirred a large pot, "hand me the grummone, it's the third bottle from the left on the second shelf."
She hopped off her perch to comply, climbing the step stool Neelix kept there for her and Naomi. The bottle contained brown powder, and as she walked it to him she opened the top and sniffed. She wasn't sure she liked what she smelled.
"Maybe when you're grown up it'll be more appealing to you." Neelix smiled, taking the spice from her and putting a generous amount in the stew.
"I'm grown up enough," she stated firmly. "I don't like it." She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against him. The smell of the powder couldn't compare to the scent of this man, which she loved.
"Of course you are, even though you're only a year and a half you're very grown up." Leaving the spoon in the pot, he put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her gently. "So, did something in particular happen today, or were you just wanting my company? Missing your momma?"
How could she explain it to him so that he'd understand? If Momma were here, she would, and there really wasn't anyone else to talk to about it all.
"Martis, it's only been a week since she's been gone..."
She very clearly picked up his sadness, the catch in his voice, the shaky breath he was forced to take, the way he held her more tightly. But she couldn't talk about that, not about that, so she told him what was foremost on her mind. "It's not Momma, Neelix," she said quietly. "Something's wrong. With Da. And Tayo."
He moved her away from him and looked at her seriously. She got butterflies in her stomach. Then he lifted her easily back onto the stool so they were eye to eye. "What happened?"
"They're unhappy. They don't smile. They don't laugh. They're mad at each other."
Neelix's glance softened. "Well, adults sometimes have fights, and they miss Kes, too. I imagine they're just having a hard time. I know I've been feeling pretty mad at some people that I really like, for no reason. It's just part of grieving."
But she knew that wasn't it. She shook her head. "No, I can feel it. They hurt," she said, pointing to her chest, "in here. And Momma told me that I should try and help people if I can. I want to know if it's okay if I listen to what they're thinking, so I can help them. So they won't be mad..."
"Oh, sweetie, it's a good thing to want to help, but I don't think you should do that. I think your fathers just need a little time, that's all. Are they being mad with you?"
"No. But Tayo doesn't..." She wasn't sure if she should say anything.
"He doesn't what?"
She decided. "He doesn't give me my bath anymore, or make me breakfast. He's always working."
Neelix sighed. "I'm sorry, Martis, that he's so busy right now. But I'm sure that it's not because of you, you know what an important man he is to this ship."
"I know."
"And you and I haven't spent much time together this week either. Do you want to help me with the dinner -- serving, too? I'll talk to your father about it. I sure could use you around here. Nobody can help me make fruit salad like you can."
She wanted to, but she wasn't sure what Da would say. She had the feeling he wouldn't be very happy about it, but didn't know why. "Okay. I'd like to stay."
For the first time since she'd gotten there, she saw Neelix smile one of his really big smiles. It felt good to see it. She hoped Da would say 'yes.'
Chakotay sat in front of the captain's desk and tried to stay relaxed. It was at these times that he rued the fact that he was the ship's de facto counselor, and that his superior officer felt as though everyone's business was her business. By extension, therefore, the ship's business. By extension, therefore, open for discussion. He did not want to talk about Tom, and what was wrong with Tom, and what possibly was wrong with them.
He'd given up trying to talk to Tom days before. Whether it was the silent treatment or the barest minimum of communication the end result was the same. His lover was shutting him out and it hurt like hell. It hurt so much he could hardly stand it. It hurt so much he felt as if his chest were nothing but an empty, cold, shell. He'd tried to take vision quests and speak to his animal guide, but she'd been either elusive and hiding in the shadows or she'd done nothing but sit by his side. Giving him more silent treatment that frankly, he didn't need. He'd screamed at her for an explanation of Tom's withdrawal, to help him through this. Her golden eyes had been sad, but her voice had stayed quiet.
So here he sat with Kathryn asking him the very same thing. "Chakotay," she was saying, "I'm honestly concerned about Tom. I'm not trying to pry, but his behavior is extremely disturbing. He says absolutely nothing but answer us both with strict by the book responses. And the tension out there is so thick it's making everyone prickly."
"I can't tell you much, Captain, you'll have to talk to him about it." He unclenched his fist and rested his hands on his thighs.
"Look, I know that Kes leaving has been hard on your family, I'm not immune to the consequences of her decision. But it's been two weeks..."
He interrupted her. "I know very well how long it's been," he said sharply.
She looked at him with hard eyes that after a moment softened. "I'm sure you do. May I ask how he's been with Martis? How is she doing?"
His icy heart beat faster, echoing in his chest. If he were honest with her, he wouldn't know how to answer that question. He only tucked the girl in at night and by then she was so tired she didn't say much. She'd hug him tightly, and tears would well up in his eyes, he missed her so. But he'd breathe them away and tell her to have the sweetest of dreams...
"Chakotay?"
"She's fine, she's doing fine," he said, his jaw aching.
"Good, because Tom's idea for her schooling is, in my opinion, quite rigorous, and I want to be sure she's ready for it."
He didn't think anything more could hurt him, but he'd been wrong. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. His mind was racing. "She'll be ready, I'm sure. Now about the original matter you called me in to discuss?"
"Yes, the survey mission. But on second thought, you really shouldn't be the one to go. I understand it's not the best time."
"Well, Captain, my personal life should not interfere with the ship's needs. I'll let you know by the end of the evening. Was there anything else?" When she shook her head, he stood, willing his legs to support him. With a nod in deference to her, he turned and walked out of the ready room. Onto the bridge, where the stranger he lived with was at the helm, piloting them all through the DQ.
"Did you even consider talking this over with me?" Chakotay was trying to keep his voice level but knew it wasn't working. He watched Tom slowly putting dishes in the recycler. "Well, did you?"
"There really wasn't much to talk over," said Tom calmly.
He was glad, for once, that he was home for dinner and Martis was with Harry and Greg. He was desperate for some answers. "Not much to talk over?! The educational needs of our daughter wasn't much to talk over? Since when?!"
Tom's response was to walk away. Again. Like he'd been doing for two weeks. This time Chakotay followed him. Right into the bathroom, opening the door that had been closed in his face. Tom whirled, his blue eyes flashing.
"What, Tom? You don't like it that I'm following you? Well too bad! You're going to tell me, right now, what the hell is going on here!" Chakotay knew how loudly he was shouting, but he could no longer control himself.
"There's nothing going on here!" Tom shouted back.
"Nothing?! You don't talk to me - you won't touch me - you won't let me touch you - and it's nothing?"
Tom started to wash his hands, breathing rapidly. Chakotay yanked them out from under the water and held them by the wrists. Tom tried to pull away, but couldn't.
Chakotay felt the rapid pulse beneath his fingers and locked eyes with the man he loved. It hurt too much. He realized he was unable to discern what Tom was thinking, or feeling, by looking into those blue irises. Blue he used to get lost in. He let go. "Maybe I should ask Martis to tell me what's going on with you," he said quietly. "At least she'd be honest."
Tom's eyes blazed. "Leave her out of this. And leave me alone."
He'd been wrong again. A new stab of pain hit him and fury was his only response. "You want me to leave you alone, Tom?! Fine. You've got it." He turned and stalked out of the bathroom right to his closet. Pulling his carryall off the top shelf, he began to pack, throwing things in haphazardly, his mind spinning. He was now concentrating what he'd need for the mission, ignoring the man standing against the wall with his arms folded.
"What are you doing," said Tom in a shaky voice.
He kept packing. "Giving you what you want. I'll be leaving the ship in the early morning. Mission." He went into the bathroom and grabbed his toiletries, then tossed them into the bag and closed it up. Slinging it over his shoulder he started to walk out of the bedroom, stopping a few meters away from Tom. "I'll say my good-byes to Martis at Harry's."
"But..." Tom faltered.
Chakotay didn't wait to find out what he was trying to say. He left, heading for the shuttle bay, where he was planning to spend the night. One of the advantages of being the First Officer was that no one could question his actions. Or where he slept.
Tom curled up in the big bed after having tucked Martis in. He got up again to shut the door to Chakotay's closet. Telling himself repeatedly that the man was only going on a mission - a mission he'd heard nothing about - he looked at the clothing still there. Chakotay's Maquis leathers hung in the back, and seeing them at that moment almost broke his composure wide open. His hand reached for the vest, but he stopped himself and crawled back into bed. Their bed. It was still their bed.
Again his hand reached for something and again he stopped it. He closed his eyes against the sight of his combadge sitting on the bedside table. He'd tried calling Chakotay earlier, but he'd gotten no response. The look of anger, and hurt, and something else indefinable on that tattooed face he loved so dearly was all he could see behind his eyelids. He pulled Chakotay's pillow to his chest, and smelling his scent, Tom tried to sleep.
The shuttle was responding smoothly to Chakotay's piloting, and he could feel himself relax for the first time in days. In weeks. His chest still hurt, the ache in it so profound it had kept him from sleeping well. He'd turned over at some point, disoriented, wondering why he was in a shuttle, on Voyager. Then he'd remembered, and had closed his eyes fighting tears. It had been a hellish night.
He studied the readouts in front of him, surveying the planet he was approaching. He contacted Voyager and gave Harry his status. But then he noticed something odd. Omicron particles in the planet's atmosphere. He opened another link back to the ship and passed along that information and the fact that he was going to investigate.
As he went into orbit, the tiny shuttle came under attack. He was going down, no longer in contact with home, now fighting to survive.
"Captain, I've lost contact with the Commander," Harry called out. "I cannot locate the shuttle."
Tom froze. He recognized the soft sound of the captain standing. It was all he could hear. She was standing and she'd somehow take care of the problem. The problem of Chakotay's shuttle disappearing... Tom froze again. More deeply this time. Find him, Harry, please find him.
Minutes passed, or perhaps it was hours. He wasn't sure. Then the captain's small hand was resting on his shoulder. No, please, don't touch me. His chest was tightening unbearably.
"Tom," he heard her say, "take us into orbit, but a higher orbit than Chakotay was attempting. Harry, continue your scans for the shuttle, and locate civilization so we can talk to someone."
"Yes, Captain," said Harry from very far away.
He moved his fingers across the helm automatically, his mind calculating and entering coordinates as he'd been trained to do. I should have stopped him from leaving.
"I'll be in the ready room," said the captain from right behind him. She squeezed his shoulder but he continued to stare straight ahead. She left. He breathed.
The briefing table had only four people around it. Tom was sitting with Harry by his side, and he suspected his friend was only there should he fall. His heart was so heavy in his chest he was surprised it was beating at all. The captain wouldn't have called him in here unless it was bad news. But looking at her, he saw no defeat or grief in her eyes, and he took comfort in that.
"Harry's located the shuttle," said the captain. "It has been destroyed on the surface. There are no life signs, but due to interference, no way to determine whether there are residual biosignatures or a combadge."
"Captain, it is logical to assume the commander did not survive. The shuttle is located in a war zone," intoned Tuvok.
Tom saw her give the Vulcan the death glare for his comment but that didn't help. This couldn't be happening. His hands began to shake. "I should have been with him!" he shouted, as Harry grabbed his forearm.
The captain, giving one last glare to Tuvok, shook her head. "Tom, there's no reason to believe he hasn't survived. We've made contact with an official, Ambassador Treen, who's agreed to help us locate Chakotay. He's assured us his government will do everything possible."
"The Vori and the Kradin are centuries old enemies," Tuvok interjected, "and the commander's shuttle was shot down from orbit. If he did survive the impact, the fighting on the surface would prove difficult to escape from."
She renewed her glare, but it was ignored. "I repeat, we will do everything possible to locate him." She locked eyes with Tom. "Everything. Now - return to your duty station and I'll let you know when I hear from the ambassador."
Everyone stood. Tom broke away from her gaze, but not before he clearly saw her compassion. That he could not deal with. Chakotay wasn't dead. He just wasn't. Tom wouldn't allow it to be true.
Tom was once again sitting at the briefing table. This time the Kradi ambassador was in the room as well. He was trying so hard to breathe, but between his head feeling as if it was about to explode and his hands continuing to shake, whatever control he had over his lungs was almost nonexistent.
He was introduced to the ambassador as the commander's mate, the implied 'next of kin' hanging heavily in the air. The man, however, was cordial and reassuring. He had no direct information, but there was a good chance, in his opinion, that Chakotay had survived. Tom kept picking up something behind the smooth words, something he couldn't put a name to. He hoped it was merely his emotional state clouding his perceptions.
Tuvok began to discuss a rescue plan, if they did manage to locate the commander. Tom jumped on it, insisting that he lead the away team, desperately needing to do something. Tuvok argued with him dispassionately, explaining why Tom was not the likely choice. Further explaining that this would have to be a one-man mission.
Listening to the Vulcan's emotionless discussion of the pros and cons of rescuing the man Tom loved was more than he could take. He snapped. He insisted that he was the one to rescue Chakotay, pleading with the captain, telling her it was his fault the commander had gone in the first place, it was up to him to save him. On some level, he knew his emotional control was shot to hell. On some level, he knew he was pushing the envelope. On some level, he knew he'd not survive himself if Chakotay wasn't found and brought home, and that only pushed him further.
He didn't see Tuvok coming up behind him. He felt the pinch in his neck the split second before everything went blank.
Kathryn apologized to the ambassador, then instructed Tuvok to show him back to the transporter room. Tom lay slumped over the table. She contacted Lieutenant Ayala, asking him to report to the briefing room. Harry was still needed to help with the search. Greg would transport with Tom to his quarters and stay with him.
While she waited for Tom's friend, she contacted Martis to find out where she was. She'd spent the afternoon with B'Elanna, she said, learning 'all about engines.' Kathryn then spoke with her baby-sitter, telling her that she'd be getting a message in a few minutes, asking her to keep the child through dinner. B'Elanna agreed, though the question in her voice was loud and clear.
After cutting the link, Kathryn sent her message, her heart heavy but determined. She was not going to give up, and didn't believe her First Officer and friend was dead. Too many people needed him. Including her.
B'Elanna turned off the console in her office and let her head fall into her hands for a moment. Her stomach was in knots. No, I don't believe it. He's not dead. He's not. Nothing could have happened to Chakotay - it was inconceivable. He was a survivor. Kah'les, no.
She wiped her eyes and took a steeling breath, called Ken and told him what had happened, asking him to meet her at her quarters. Then she went back out into engineering to pick up Martis. The girl looked at her strangely when B'Elanna took her hand, giving out some last minute orders for beta shift personnel. She couldn't even imagine what this child would go through if Chakotay was never found. Losing her mother and then just weeks later losing another parent?
They walked to the turbolift in silence. B'Elanna's mind and heart were in turmoil, filled with thoughts of her own father leaving and the pain that had caused. Martis held hands tightly. When they entered the cabin, the girl finally spoke.
"Bell, why are you sad?"
She admonished herself for not being more careful, but instantly decided to be only partially honest with her. It was Tom's job to tell her, if he even planned to do so. "Well, honey, for some reason I'm thinking about my father. That can make me sad. But let's talk about dinner, okay? What would you like to have tonight?"
Martis was looking at her again. "Why does that make you sad?"
B'Elanna sighed. She brought them to the couches and sat down. As usual, the girl curled up next to her, leaning into her shoulder. B'Elanna was still slightly surprised that this child had bonded so closely with her, she'd never considered herself child-friend material. Yet, she liked it. "Why does that make me sad? Because my father didn't live with me. Sometimes I still miss him."
"Did he die?"
"No, he didn't."
"Did he leave like Momma did?"
B'Elanna's heart started to flutter. She really did not want to talk about Kes with her daughter. "No, he didn't. He just moved away."
"Oh," Martis said seriously. "That's why, because he was gone."
She was confused by the child's response, but before she could ask her anything, her door chimed. She called for entrance and Ken walked in. Needing a hug, she extracted herself from Martis and wrapped her arms around the man, who embraced her and whispered a hello before kissing her cheek. The feel of his comfort, the smell of his skin, and her composure was beginning to fail. Her throat was closing as she suddenly thought of Tom, and what he must be going through.
Ken pulled away enough to meet her eyes. She saw reassurance and nodded, and tried to breathe. He then went to the couch, greeting Martis with a big smile and a hug, easing the tension in the room.
Greg checked on Tom one more time, and saw that he was still resting peacefully on the bed, or had the appearance of being peaceful anyway. Returning to the living area, he replicated a glass of water and sat on the couch, closing his eyes. It felt odd to be there, in Chakotay's silent and nearly empty cabin.
He hadn't been oblivious to his friend's state of mind over the past two weeks, or the strain between him and his lover. And the night before, when Chakotay had shown up to see Martis, he'd looked absolutely terrible. Much like he had long ago, on the Liberty. His eyes were flashing pure fire, though he'd tried to put on a smile for his daughter. Neither Greg nor Harry had been fooled, and Greg doubted the child had been either.
The door chimed so he got up to open it, relieved to see his own lover enter. They merely looked at each other and stepped into a strong embrace, sighing deeply. Holding Harry to him, he had the overwhelming urge to fuse himself permanently to this man.
"We haven't found him yet," said Harry softly in his ear.
"We will," he stated, more for his own benefit than Harry's.
The noise of a throat clearing pulled them apart. "Don't let me interrupt you," said Tom, giving them both his best version of a wry grin. He didn't succeed, however, sitting heavily on the couch. "From the look on your face, Har, I take it he hasn't been found?"
"I'm sorry, Tom." Harry sat down with him, putting his arm around Tom's shoulders, but the man shrugged him off and stood.
"Where's Martis?" His voice was quiet but steady.
"Still with B'Elanna," Greg said, "having dinner, probably just about done. Would you like something to eat?"
Tom ran a hand through his hair, then pressed fingers against his eyes, breathing deeply. When he looked at them finally, Greg could see the now familiar strain multiplied a thousand fold in his features. "Would you guys stay and eat with me?"
Harry smiled and said, "Of course. We'll even buy." He took Tom's arm and led him to the table, sitting him down, Greg following. Harry went to the replicator. "What'll you have - name anything, rations be damned." Greg got out place settings.
"Just some soup. Mushroom," said Tom.
Greg chuckled. "How did he manage that?"
"Lost a bet a couple of months ago - he made me try it. I like it. Hell - let's face it - he can get me to do just about anything. Show those damned dimples..." Tom's voice faltered.
The replicator finished and a hot bowl of mushroom soup was put down, along with some bread and some juice. Harry then made them their own version of comfort food - rice with ginger vegetables. The three of them ate in silence for a few minutes. Greg noticed that Tom was eating very, very slowly, then put his spoon down.
"Greg, can I ask you a question? Father to father?" Greg nodded. "If you were in my position, would you tell Martis that Chak's missing?"
He took a drink of water and thought about his sons at six years old. "Well, I think I would. At that age, kids are incredibly curious, and with her abilities she's bound to be wondering what the hell is going on around her with the adults acting strangely. She's too smart to be fooled."
"She is that," Tom said wistfully. "Where the hell she got it is beyond me..."
Harry snorted softly. "Shit, Tom, how can you even ask that? You're one of the smartest men I've ever known."
But Tom just shook his head in response.
"Martis, honey," Tom said as he pulled the covers up, "there's something we need to talk about." His heart was beating so fast his ribs almost ached. The girl's eyes got very wide, she fiddled with her dog's ear. He knew that her telepathy would rarely give him the luxury of keeping secrets, at least not secrets of this emotional magnitude. He also knew Greg was right. Yet he still didn't know, even sitting here facing the inevitable, how to tell her. Blurt it out? Ease into it?
"Da?" Her voice was so small.
"Honey, it's about Tayo. You know how he went on the mission this morning? Well, something's happened. He's lost. We don't know where he is."
Her eyes filled quickly and tears were rolling out of them but she wasn't making a sound. Then she sat up, so he took her into his arms and she began to cry in earnest. His throat closed and he begged some anonymous power to help him keep his control. He held her and crooned meaningless words to her while she sobbed.
"Tayo," she choked out, "if he's lost, I won't feel him anymore..."
"We'll find him, Martis," he said without thinking.
"He won't be like Momma," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. Her sobbing started again.
"What do you mean?"
But she was crying too hard now, so he just continued to hold her and rock her like he had when she was younger. Not so many months ago. She hadn't cried this hard when Kes left, though Martis had been with her up until a couple of hours before she expanded into the universe. Tom had tried to ask his daughter what exactly Kes had said to her, but she couldn't seem to find words to explain it to him. And now she was sobbing uncontrollably at the thought that Chakotay might be permanently gone from her life. Her fear was palpable.
"We'll find him, honey, we'll find him. Someone from the planet is looking for him. He'll be fine..." He had a feeling it wasn't the best thing to say to her, in case they didn't find him, but this was tearing his heart apart. He couldn't stop himself.
Her crying slowed, she stayed in his arms. He wiped her face off with his thumb. "Why did he have to go?" she asked.
Tom's heart skipped. "It was a mission, the captain asked him to, it's part of his job."
"But he was so mad last night. And now he's lost and maybe he thinks that... that we don't love him anymore..."
He was right on the edge of breaking down in front of her. Somehow he didn't. "Oh no, honey, he knows that we love him, believe me. But just in case he's wondering, when he comes home, we'll show him, okay? I'm sorry, Martis, I'm so sorry. I promise, we'll show him."
She sniffed. "We'll take him on a picnic and feed him everything he likes. Even that icky tofu stuff."
"Yeah," he said with a smile, "even that icky tofu stuff."
Tom stared at the ceiling, then stared at the wall, then closed his eyes again and stared at the pictures playing out behind his eyelids. A destroyed shuttle. A broken body. A bloody tattoo. A child crying in his arms.
He got up and out of the bed, pacing around the room, needing something. Something. Something to help him keep it together. He couldn't fall apart. His daughter needed him to be the strong one, the solid one, the one who had all of the answers. The pressure in his head was almost unbearable and if could have had the luxury of simply screaming at the top of his lungs he would have taken it.
His eyes landed on Chakotay's medicine bundle. Sitting on a shelf, with the ceremonial candles next to it. The sage branches off to the side. He walked over to it and touched the soft leather surface. Chakotay periodically tried to convince him to take a vision quest, but Tom always declined. Spiritual matters and the Paris household did not go together. He believed in other things. He believed in the man he loved.
He picked up the medicine bundle and got back into bed, taking it only to feel some connection. After curling up on his side, he put the leather roll on the pillow next to his head, keeping his hand around it. His composure started to disintegrate.
"I need you, Chak. I can't do this without you. Martis needs you," he whispered to the leather. He could no longer hold onto the self-deception that he was the only parent in his daughter's life. He finally, finally lost control as the pain in his heart took over. He cried into his pillow, great, wracking sobs coming up from his gut. He cried from fear, he cried from guilt, he cried from grief. For Kes. For Martis. For himself. Most of all for Chakotay, and everything he had put the man through.
"That's right, honey, if you use this interface, the ship moves to the left," Tom said. He and Martis were on the holodeck, in one of his flight simulation programs. She was sitting on his lap at the helm, enthralled by the vast array of instruments in front of her.
He'd simply been forced to get them out of their cabin. No news still, and it was now afternoon. He'd been ordered off duty for the duration. Duration of what, he'd wanted to ask the captain, but he'd refrained. She'd promised him instant communication. He'd had no doubt of that.
"This is fun, Da," said Martis, her finger making Voyager virtually spin in a left-directional circle.
He stopped her. "Yes," he said, chuckling, "it is. Now, let's take her in the other direction. Engage this interface." He pointed to it. She tapped it and Voyager started another circular route.
"How do I make her go up and down?"
"Fast learner, are you? Okay, I'll show you, but it's a little trickier, you have to take it real slow and easy. Let's start with up. You use this one - see how it's shaped differently? The higher you hit, the higher she goes."
She tried it and even with the simulated inertial dampers, Tom's stomach dipped and he could see the stars tilt wildly outside the view screen. Martis squealed in delight. Laughing, Tom dropped the ship back down to horizontal. "Did Momma know how to do this?" said Martis, smiling broadly.
"Not really. I gave her a few lessons, but she never flew an actual ship."
"Will she like it that I'm learning?"
Tom's chest tightened. "Yes, I think she would. She and I talked about it. To see if you'd want to learn."
"Good. I'll tell her all about it then. Tonight," she said decisively.
Tom looked at his daughter, still studying everything in front of her. "Do you talk to her a lot?"
"Well, Da, I can't really talk to her. Out loud." Her voice held a note that implied he was extraordinarily dense. "I don't have to. She's almost everywhere. With me. But if I really want to feel her I go to the hydroponics bay. That's where she's strongest. What does this one do?"
At that moment, he did feel extraordinarily dense. "Do you feel her right now?"
She met his eyes for the first time. Blue to blue. "When I'm with you, or when I'm with Tayo, then I don't feel her very much at all. Then she comes back. Like water, in my bathtub."
Like the waves in the ocean, he thought. He kissed her head and squeezed her to his chest. She smiled. "I love you, Martis," he said softly.
"I love you, too, Da."
The door to the simulated bridge opened. He spun the seat and his heart stopped. Captain Janeway was walking down the steps.
"Hello Tom, hello Martis," she said. She looked serious.
"Hi," said Martis quietly.
Again, Tom held her a little more tightly to him. "Hello, Captain."
"We have news. The ambassador just contacted me. Perhaps, Tom, you and I should speak outside?"
He was completely torn. It had to be bad news, but he just couldn't leave his daughter when she undoubtedly could sense that, too. He couldn't do that to her. "No, please," he said, willing his voice not to shake, "tell us. She'll be fine." Martis grabbed his hand.
"Very well. Chakotay's alive. There was no indication of him at the shuttle...site... And there's information that he's been...that he's with the Vori. We know where he is."
Tom almost fell off the chair as his body reacted, turning into rubber. Tears were threatening again, Martis was digging her fingers into his palm, but it was her quivering that caused him to come to. She was crying softly. He focused on his captain's face - she still looked far too serious. "What's the rest of it?"
"It's best we talk in private," she said.
He nodded and soothed his daughter, telling her that everything was going to be fine, that he'd be right back. She stopped her crying and slid off his lap, but wouldn't let go of his hand. Captain Janeway then suggested she sit in the command chair and practice for when she'd be a captain. Martis agreed, but as Tom left, he looked over his shoulder and she was still standing, watching them. He gave her a reassuring smile.
In the corridor outside the holodeck, he heard the rest of it. Chakotay was very likely involved in the war between the Vori and Kradin. The Vori had captured him. Their agenda was to brainwash off-worlders - to become like them. Fighting the Kradi. Killing without remorse. Tuvok was being taken to find him and bring him home.
Tom's legs turned back into rubber.
The transporter technician wasn't working fast enough in Tom's considered opinion. How long could it take to get two people back on this ship? He paced, glancing out of the corner of his eye periodically to see the captain standing with her arms crossed, in front of the console.
"I've got them, Captain," said Ensign Thomas.
He faced the pad. Blue shimmering transformed into two men, one of whom held Tom's heart in the palm of his hand. His stomach clenched to see Chakotay's condition - he was dirty, wearing torn and filthy clothing, and had visible injuries. But that didn't stop Tom. He was in front of him the moment Chakotay stepped down. Brown eyes looked into his but Tom couldn't quite tell what was behind them. That didn't stop him either. He threw his arms around Chakotay and pulled him gently, tightly, relieved beyond measure to feel his embrace returned. Weakly or strongly, he didn't care.
He couldn't think of anything to say to express as much as he wanted, and needed to. Captain Janeway interrupted them, ordering a sick bay visit. Chakotay didn't respond, looked into his eyes again, let Tom take his hand, and went along. Walking through the corridors, Tom kept looking at him, wanting to kiss him, and put him in the shower, and feed him, and just plain take him home. Chakotay continued to meet his eyes, but didn't say a word.
Chakotay sat on the biobed. The Doctor scanned, and regenerated him, and huffed, and injected him. Tom hovered closely. Kathryn hovered further away. Tuvok had just left.
He was still disoriented and somewhat confused - he'd wanted desperately to return to Voyager while he was on the planet, but at some point that had changed. Then he'd just wanted to help the Vori overpower and slay as many Kradi as possible. And now here he was. Home. With Tom hovering closely. That he hadn't expected - to have Tom act so intensely protective. He clearly remembered why he'd left in the first place, and how he'd been feeling - all of it. Now Tom looked at him with nothing but love and it almost hurt to see it.
"Well," the Doctor said to him, "they used a combination of mind control techniques, including photometric projections, heightened emotional stimuli and highly sophisticated psychotropic manipulation. From the condition of your hypothalamus, they had you so mixed up they could have convinced you your mother was a turnip."
Tom snorted loudly. "And so what are you going to do to fix him up?!"
"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. I'm sorry, Commander."
Tom threw his hands up in the air. "What do you mean, there's nothing?"
Chakotay felt the cold weight of dread settle in his chest. He barely heard the rest of the conversation. Hope that these terrible feelings of impotence, and hatred could be washed from him faded.
At that moment, the doors to sick bay opened and Neelix came in with a stranger. He took one look at the Kradi and was filled with rage. The captain attempted to introduce him as the ambassador who had helped locate him and bring him home. The overpowering urge to kill the man blinded him to everything. He shouted, ordered them to get the evil nemesis out of his sight. He was shaking and freezing cold.
He jumped off the biobed and stormed out.
Tom ran after Chakotay, grabbing his arm, bringing them both to a stop in the corridor. Chakotay spun around and the haunted look in his eyes tore at Tom's heart. "Chak," he said softly. He pulled the man he loved into his arms and Chakotay held him tightly, shaking on his shoulder. "Sh-h-h," he crooned, much as he had to their daughter the night before. He stroked his black hair until the shaking stopped. "Come on, let's go home..."
Chakotay pulled back, his eyes dark with pain. "I can't, Tom."
Tom let go, a searing ache filling his chest, realizing he'd expected too much to be forgiven so quickly. No matter what had happened. "I understand," he said with a voice too tight.
This time Chakotay grabbed his arm. "No, you don't. It's Martis. I... I can't be around her. I can't let her know what happened. She can't know hatred. Not from me..."
Tom started to cry, he couldn't stop himself. That he had believed this man couldn't love Martis as much as he and Kes did, that everything to do with his daughter, their daughter, needed to be borne by himself alone - he could hardly face it. He tried to pull himself together for Chakotay's sake. "She won't, I'll make her promise not to read you, we'll show her that everything is fine. Please, Chak. Martis needs you. I need you. Please. Let me take care of you."
Chakotay didn't hesitate. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He nodded and brought them together again.
Tom had to fight back his own tears. They held on to each other as he called for a site-to-site to their quarters. He didn't care if anyone complained about transporter resources - he wasn't about to let the crew see their First Officer in this condition. Not in this lifetime.
Chakotay leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. Martis, on his lap, was trying to feed him another piece of apple.
"Tayo, you need to finish your dinner," she said, grinning widely.
"I'm too full."
"You don't get dessert if you don't finish." Her small hand was poised a few centimeters from his mouth.
He looked at Tom, who was trying not to laugh. "Who," he asked, "does she sound like?" She shoved the last bit of fruit past his lips as he finished the sentence.
Tom shrugged. "Kinda like my mother, actually."
"Exactly," he said.
Martis sighed happily and snuggled against his chest. He held her, and closed his eyes against the wave of emotion overwhelming him.
"Tayo," she said in a softer tone of voice, "will you make me breakfast in the morning?"
His heart clenched and he opened his eyes to meet gentle blue ones across the table. He wasn't sure, still, what to answer.
Tom jumped in. "I'd love to sleep in tomorrow," he said with a smile.
He swallowed the lump down his throat. "Sure," he answered the girl, "I'll make you breakfast."
"And give me my bath?"
Tom just kept smiling. A loving, beautiful smile. "Yes, and a bath," he said into her ear.
She turned in his lap and pulled herself into a hug, clutching his neck. "Thank you."
He wasn't sure he could keep himself steady. Tom cleared his throat and Martis let go, turning to look at her father. He winked. Chakotay had no idea what was going on.
"It's okay, honey - you tell him," Tom said to the girl.
Martis' big blue eyes met his. "We're going to take you on a picnic tomorrow, and you get to have all the things you like. Even that icky tofu. We'll go up in the mountains. Because you're home. And we love you."
"And..." Tom prompted.
"Oh yeah. And I'll tell you about how I was flying Voyager and everything," she finished, beaming.
He was overcome. "That sounds wonderful," he said not only to his daughter, but to Tom as well.
"We've got a lot to talk about - while she's off collecting things, as she always does, I'd like to discuss how in the world we're going to fill up this sponge brain of hers."
Chakotay saw everything in the look he was getting. A request for forgiveness. For understanding. For time. As if he could ever deny this man. "Of course, Tom."
Tom's eyes filled. "Thank you."
"Computer, night lights," Tom called out as he crawled under the covers. He lay on his side, studying Chakotay, who's eyes were closed with his hands behind his head. The man seemed relaxed, there was even a hint of a grin on his full lips.
Chakotay turned his head and met his stare. Smiled a gentle smile. "Get your ass over here," he said quietly.
Tom moved into his now open arms, sighing aloud at the feel of their bodies pressing together, his leg sliding in between Chakotay's, warm skin under his fingertips. He propped his head up and traced the tattoo. Chakotay caressed the back of Tom's neck, trailing his hand up, behind Tom's head, then pulled. He didn't resist. He kissed him, falling on his mouth, intending it to be a chaste but warm kiss. The touch of their lips was electric, and from mutual need the kiss quickly deepened. They tasted each other hungrily, thoroughly; Tom was ready to keep going, his cock was stiffening, his want for this man was overwhelming him. But something didn't feel quite right. He tore his mouth away and tried to catch his breath.
Chakotay's hands started to move, up and down his back, massaging his ass, making Tom's self control waver. "Chak, I have to say something." The hands slowed down and they focused on each other. His throat closed, looking into those deep dark eyes. It had been weeks since he'd seen them this way.
"If you're wanting to talk about what happened to me, on the planet," said Chakotay, "I don't think I'm ready. Not completely."
Tom stroked his cheek. "I need to hear what happened to you and I think my lover would tell me that you need to talk about it. But in your time frame. Will your animal guide be able to help you?"
"I hope so. I'd like to try, with her, tomorrow before the picnic. I'm better, Tom, just being home, and here with you, and Martis. I'm much better."
"Better enough to hear me out?" His heart started to thud in his chest.
Chakotay smiled. "Yes."
But what words should he start with? He had screwed up so completely... "Do you remember what Kes wanted when she asked me to be the father of her child?"
"Which part?"
"That if anything happened to her, she wanted the responsibility of Martis to be shared. With you." He took a deep breath. "I failed her, I failed you, and I failed our daughter, Chakotay. I pushed you away when I needed you the most. I thought..." His chest was tightening and he could feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes. "I thought I was all alone, that I was the only parent Martis had left. I'm sorry..." He could no longer speak.
Chakotay pulled him back down as his composure disintegrated, holding him tightly while he cried against his neck. "Oh, Tom...," the man said with a sigh.
"I'm an idiot, I know. I'm so sorry, Chak," he choked out.
"I disagree. But I'll accept your apology on one condition."
He tried to stop crying, eventually calming himself enough to ask what the condition was.
"On the condition that you do not refer to yourself as having failed. You made a mistake, out of grief at losing Kes, and facing your daughter without her mother. But you didn't fail Martis. She's fine," said Chakotay.
"Facing our daughter."
Chakotay didn't respond. Then Tom felt the man's breath hitch so he moved away from his neck. Chakotay's eyes were shut tightly and a tear was escaping from one, rolling to the pillow.
"She's our daughter, Chak, and she may be fine, but she missed you something awful. She needs you just as much as I do. She's your child, too." Tom caressed his face until brown eyes were once again meeting his. Clearly.
"I missed her," he said softly.
"Okay then. I'll accept your condition if you'll forgive me for being such an asshole. I love you, Chakotay - I never intended to hurt you."
"I forgive you, Tom. I promise. I love you too much, I've missed you too much not to." Chakotay ran his thumb over Tom's lips. "Now," he said with a deeper voice, "can we go back to making out?"
Tom's heart was soaring. He opened his mouth and sucked the thumb in, licking gently over the tip. Chakotay grinned. He pulled off the thumb, smiled in return, and dipped his head, and kissed the man he loved so deeply he imagined he could eat his tonsils. In the dim recesses of his mind he allowed amazement to settle in. He'd been forgiven. Truly forgiven for the first time in his life. I love you.
Chakotay rolled Tom, holding him tightly, kissing him, letting himself become completely and totally lost in all that they were together. When Tom landed on the pillow, their mouths unlocked. Dark blue eyes looked deeply into his.
"Thank you," said Tom.
What he wanted to say in return wasn't what came out. "You're welcome." Do you have any idea how much I need you? You are my lifeline, Tom. My life. He could no more hold on to his hurt and anger than he could not breathe. To not look into this face, flushed with desire, into those eyes, darkening with need. He would prefer to die. When he was able to tell this man he loved what he'd gone through with the Vori, he'd share that one essential truth. Death was nothing compared to living without love. "I love you, Tom." The words came out without him realizing it.
"Kiss me," answered the beautiful man under him.
Yes, and then... He fell back onto the lips below his, taking his mouth, reveling in their combined taste, in the feel of Tom's soft and sensual tongue against his own. Tom ran his hands down Chakotay's back, pulling his ass more tightly to him, squeezing their rapidly hardening erections. Yes. Tom rocked their pelvises together, and they both groaned as their tongues stilled. Yes. Tom moved his legs apart, settling Chakotay in between his knees and started to shift his feet. Onto Chakotay's ass. Then up his back. They were getting harder and harder, straining against each other. Yes, Tom. Chakotay took over, reaching in between them, coating his fingers with precum and sliding them down below Tom's scrotum. Then inside him, first one, then two, then three, stretching him quickly and easily with well lubricated and practiced fingers.
Their urgency was borne of the need to be connected, a need too long ignored. Tom was moaning into his mouth and each noise made Chakotay's erection throb, and weep even more. He had to break the kisses to make the final preparation. He slicked himself with the copious liquid seeping out of him, then pushed into Tom, feeling the tight heat surround him, hold him, caress him. Tom groaned and moved to pull him in even more deeply. Oh yes, Tom.
He started to thrust, thinking he would go slow, to prolong it, but they were soon thrusting hard together, and he could feel his climax building quickly, so he attacked Tom's mouth... they devoured each other while their bodies were driving together, rapidly, with strength, and passion, they moved on, and on. He was unable to control it, needing to come with Tom so badly that he was at the edge before he knew it, then heading over it, thrusting hard into him, letting his orgasm take him flying, feeling Tom's hit, contracting around him, both of them hitting the stars...together...
Harry looked up into his lover's eyes, an involuntary moan rising up from his belly at the sensations of being filled by him, sensations pulsing throughout his body, focusing swiftly in his erection. He wrapped his legs around Greg, his lips aching for contact. The man above him lowered himself enough so their mouths could merge, and Harry kissed him deeply, thrusting his tongue against Greg's. He was far away from this ship, very, very far away. He never wanted to let go of this man, he couldn't imagine his life without him.
They moved with the rhythm of long time lovers, in and out, faster, then slower, then faster again. Teasing each other to the brink than back away from it again. Prolonging the ecstasy, Harry trailing fingers lightly up and down Greg's sides, tickling him, making him squirm, feeling the movements inside his ass, sending a thrill down his spine. Greg pulled off his mouth, latched onto his neck and grasped his erection, fondling it more than stroking it, thrusting into him harder now. Harry groaned, feeling a climax start again. He was going to come, Greg was stroking him now, harder and harder.
"Come, Harry," Greg whispered in his ear.
Those words, they always did it. His climax hit so intensely that everything contracted at once. He shot all over them, his back arched, his legs writhed, his hands gripped the sheets. Somewhere in the midst of it Greg lunged into him and he felt the warm stream filling him up, just before Greg collapsed, pressing him wonderfully into the bed. He held him tightly, waves moving through them both, Greg still pulsating inside of him.
Greg turned his head and kissed his neck where he'd sucked it. "Marry me," he said clearly.
That made no sense. "What?"
"Marry me, please, Harry." The words were just as clear, but softer. "Let's not waste any more time. What if something happened to either one of us, like you got stranded again, or some alien shot me. I want to marry you."
"But..."
"But what?"
Harry had to admit, he couldn't think of any reason not to. "Okay."
Greg pulled away enough to look at him, beaming broadly. "You mean it?"
Harry laughed gently. "Yes, I do."
He was kissed so completely that he felt the man doing it harden again, still inside of him. He moaned.
B'Elanna looked down on the man she was straddling, really, really looked at him. His eyes were burning, for her - and that thrilled her. It empowered her to her core, and left her weak with need for him. Ken rubbed his hands up her thighs, across her belly and up over her breasts, giving her nipples a squeeze. She could see what he was about to do and though she was desperate for it, she put her hand on his chest to stop him.
"I've been thinking," she said huskily.
Ken growled. "Now's not the time for thinking, 'Lanna." He thrust his hips, driving himself into her again.
She could still taste the saltiness of his skin where she'd bit it. She licked her lips. "Well, I have anyway. I think you should move in here with me..."
That stopped him. Momentarily. He made an incoherent noise and flipped her, sending chills down her spine and heat inside her where they were joined. He held her shoulders to the bed, towering over her. "You want me to move in with you?" He thrust again.
"Yes."
"Tell me why." His thrust was harder. Her insides were quivering in excitement.
"Because I want you to be here with me every night, and every morning..." He slammed against her cervix.
He lowered his head and kissed her, hard. "Tell me," he said in a deep voice.
"Because, because...," she faltered as he thrust into her again. She looked deeply into his eyes. "Because I love you. Because I'm yours. Because you're mine."
He growled again, resumed his thrusting and bit down on her neck. Her orgasm was approaching steadily. "You're mine, 'Lanna," he said into her ear.
"Yes," she grunted. "So will you move in here?" Words would soon be impossible.
"I'll do anything for you," he answered. "Yes."
He let go of her shoulders and she grabbed him with both arms and legs as they moved together. She screamed into his neck when her climax hit.
Tom woke up to the incredibly blissful feeling of the man he loved in his arms. He knew it was still night, as readily as he knew the sounds of the ship that carried them. Shifting slightly to relieve some pressure off his dead leg, he increased the strength of his hold. Chakotay moved and let out a shaky breath. So he was awake, too.
They'd fallen asleep after a long, hard cry together. Tom's hadn't been as intense as his lover's had, however. The man had fallen apart, and he was glad for it. A cleansing cry, very much needed.
Without warning, Chakotay lifted his head. "Sweetness piloted Voyager?" he asked.
Tom laughed. "Yes, she did. A flight sim. We went in circles."
He snuggled back into the embrace. "Oh," he mumbled against Tom's neck. "Good for her."
"Yes," Tom said softly. "Good for her." He rubbed the strong,
bronze back under his hands. Soon, Chakotay was asleep, heavier against
his chest, breathing deeply. Before Tom let himself follow, he gave thanks,
thinking perhaps he did believe in something a little bigger than the two
of them. Something that had returned to him that which was most precious.
His life.