Summary:  C/P,  KT's CPSG "Halloween" challenge  Part Six:  Who's investigating whom?
Copyright October 2001 Cassatt

"But Greg, I thought Chakotay said to stay away from the doorway until we meet again," Harry said. They were walking slowly down one of the hallways, trying to find their way back to the spot where Ayala had been injured.

"We'll stay away, don't worry.  I mean - we won't exactly touch the knob or anything."

Harry looked at him, and saw the determined set of his jaw and a gleam in his eyes he'd never noticed before. He grabbed Greg's arm to stop their progress.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"Wondering where the man is who would never consider going against a direct order from Commander Chakotay."

Greg folded his arms and exhaled. "Look. I'm not disobeying his order. We won't approach the door, okay?" He waited, watching Harry's reaction. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." He wasn't sure why, but he didn't feel reassured by Greg's promise.

"Old habits die hard," Tom muttered. He pulled the quilt down on his side of the bed.

"Hm-m?" Chakotay smoothed the top of the cover.

But Tom was momentarily entranced, watching Chakotay's bronze hands. They moved as gracefully as the rest of him did. He sighed. "Old habits," he responded, "we've actually given the top sheet Starfleet corners. Seems kind of ridiculous, really, considering we're just going to tear it off when we finally get in here." He grinned at the look on Chakotay's face. It was positively feral. He let himself have the pleasurable fantasy of going around the bed, pushing his commanding and ever so sexy officer firmly down and climbing on top of him...

"Tom. Are you still with me?"

He focused. "Always, Chak, always."

"Good, because we've got work to do," Chakotay said with a smile.

"I know, I'm on my way. So am I going to be able to reach you by com? I mean, will you hear it?" Tom felt slightly uncomfortable for the first time that day. Chakotay's vision quests were his most private activity and he was loathe to intrude.

"Maybe, it depends upon how deeply I'm involved." Chakotay paused. "It's okay for you to ask me questions, I don't mind. Honestly, I don't."

"But I thought you weren't supposed to tell people details, at least that's what B'Elanna said..."

"Not details about my animal guide, who she is, but I can show you my medicine bundle and I can tell you what the experience is like. And if you want to find your guide, I can help you with that."

Tom went from elation to trepidation in the short course of Chakotay's reply. That this man would trust him enough to share something so personal warmed his soul. But a guide for him? There was no point to that, he probably didn't have one. At least it wouldn't be possible to find out. By the time he formed his response, Chakotay had already placed the leather bundle on the bed and was settling himself down, cross-legged, in front of it. He patted the quilt next to him.

"Come on, Tom, sit. Let me show you, it's no big secret. Not even that exciting," he said, smiling fully.

So he joined the man he loved, watching every move he made as he untied the leather cord and unfolded the bundle. Chakotay explained the significance of what his contained, the blackbird's wing, the three engraved stones, and the small piece of carved wood.

Tom looked intently at the last item, his stomach fluttering as he searched for the nerve to ask. He kicked himself into action. "Why did you keep something from New Earth?"

Chakotay sighed. "Not for the reasons you might think, or what the rest of the crew would assume. It's been a reminder for me." He picked up the wood and absently caressed it's surface. "Kathryn and I had many arguments there about the meaning of life - when is acceptance actually giving up, how do you face a fate you never would have chosen. Yes, we became quite close and if we hadn't been rescued probably would've become lovers. I pledged myself to her. But," he paused and breathed deeply, "only I knew what dreams I gave up when I was left there. So this little piece of wood that I carved, alone, sitting on the banks of a beautiful river, was to help me remember them. Because, it hurt too much - I kept blocking them out. And the next time she'd get upset because I was too accepting of our situation, I'd meditate on this carving. I'd remember my dreams. I'd let myself...  I'd know how she felt."

"What were they?" Tom assumed they were dreams of a family he'd never find, of peace in the Federation. Of the Maquis freed and safe.

"You can't guess?"

Chakotay met his eyes and, even in the low light, Tom saw a spark of something deep in the dark brown. His heart leapt. "Me?" he asked quietly.

One nod of his head was all Tom allowed Chakotay before he wrapped his arms around him as best he could. Tom was back in those hellish twelve weeks, when he'd had to stand by and let the man he'd secretly loved be left behind. Forever. Only he knew the hours of depression he'd suffered, alone, in his quarters, the effort to put on a professional face outside them, until he'd finally confessed to Harry. Never again. Never again would he let him go. Never.

He eventually pulled away, released from the tight embrace he'd gotten in turn. "What's this, Chak," he said, pointing to the modern device sitting on the leather.

So Chakotay described the akoonah and its function, and Tom realized that perhaps finding an animal guide for himself wouldn't be quite as impossible as he'd originally thought.

They went down three more hallways, attempting to retrace what Harry remembered of the path taken, when they'd carried Greg back to the eating room. Standing at a juncture, with a choice of a right or left turn, Harry hesitated. He closed his eyes and put himself back in the scenario of the night before. It was happening in slow motion behind his eyelids, Tom was cleaning the blood off, large dark red stains on white fabric, then carrying Greg, unconscious, slowly, so slowly through the hallways, he was watching Greg's face for any movement, any movement at all, and when his mouth opened, he leaned forward to hear the words formed.... but he heard clarinet music.... a lone clarinet, playing a familiar piece of music.... his heart started to pound and he turned his head.... the music was coming from behind him.... he knew this piece.... it was his parents' favorite.... he'd last played it the night before he boarded the shuttle to take him to DS9 and his first posting - Voyager... the music was coming from the other hallway, he started to walk, he had to find the musician and ask him why....

Greg watched Harry's eyes glaze over as he turned around and began to walk back toward the main portion of the building. "Harry!" he called sharply. But the man kept walking. "Harry!" There was no response, but suddenly Harry and everything else in Greg's field of vision faded. His heart stopped, then started thudding loudly, reverberating in his ears. Blackness descended in front of his eyes so completely, that he could see absolutely nothing. He was blind.

"Tom," Chakotay said, approaching the door, "look, be careful."

"Don't worry."  Tom smiled.

But the older man did, and wasn't sure why. He let Tom kiss him and leave, not liking at all how he felt about it.

Tom closed the door behind him and had a moment's unexplained hesitation. It wasn't something conscious, he merely found himself immobile, in the hallway, with the door at his back. He shook his head in almost disgust and walked toward the staircase. As he descended, he saw Harry coming into the foyer from his left. Looking decidedly strange, though he couldn't put his finger on why.

"Hey, Har, where are you going? I was just on my way to find you two," Tom said as he reached the bottom.

Harry walked by him and said nothing.

Tom grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "Harry." One look in his eyes and he knew what was wrong. The man wasn't there. "Harry," he repeated, staring directly and deeply into his eyes.

"I have to go and find it. My parents always like hearing this one..." His voice petered out as he tried to move out of Tom's grasp.

"Find what, Harry?" Tom hoped he'd respond to his name being said repeatedly. "Harry?"

"The music... it's down there... have to find it..." He managed to wrestle away and immediately started down one of the hallways off the foyer.

Tom made a decision to go against the orders of his commanding officer. There was no way he was deserting his best friend. As he followed Harry, he tried contacting Greg, but got no response. Chakotay was probably already in his meditation. Tuvok probably wouldn't believe him and he didn't have the time to explain. He'd try and steer Harry toward where he thought Tuvok and Neelix might be. They could go and look for Greg. "Harry..."

"Akoochimoyah... I am far away from the bones of my grandfathers... from the place where their blood last flowed... "

Chakotay breathed and opened his eyes, seeing the dense forest of his home planet surrounding him. The soft grass he sat on was surprisingly dry and glowed with dappled sunlight. He heard the sound of birds somewhere in the dense canopy overhead. He waited for her, making every attempt to stay focused and patient. The noise of underbrush snapping under the weight of her arrival made his heart quicken. But rather than a wolf, his Father came into the clearing, followed by his Grandfather.

"You are surprised to see us, Chakotay," Kolopak stated as he sat in front of him. His Grandfather sat more gracefully than his years warranted.

"Yes. I have questions for her. I am surprised, but pleased. It's been a while since you've visited. And since I've seen Grandfather." He smiled in the old man's direction, but, as usual, the yellowing eyes were murky, showing no recognition. Chakotay's heart broke each time, though it had been so many many years since he'd been like this.

"Here we are, pleased as well. Your love radiates this day..."

Tom was at the bottom of the list of things Chakotay needed answers about. "Yes, I am very happy, thank you. But..."

His Father interrupted. "But though you believe he might be the love of your life you have reservations."

Chakotay studied his Father, seeing the lines of mirth that accentuated his eyes. "This topic isn't one that I really need to talk about."

His Grandfather muttered something with a nod to his Father. Kolopak smiled. "Yes, he's still contrary, isn't he?" He turned back to Chakotay. "Aren't you, Chakotay?"

"I am not still contrary, quite the opposite, and you know it, Father," he stated unequivocally. "You, too, Grandfather." His spirits lifted, however, to know the old man was following the conversation.

"Yet, you come here, deciding what the topic will be? So how do you feel about Tom?"

He slapped his hands on his knees in frustration. "Quite happy, thank you. I love him. He loves me."

"We've been told you are each other's destiny. By a friend," Kolopak said, motioning to the trees. Nothing happened. He sighed. "Son, do you think he is your destiny? Are you able to let him be as strong as he is - with you?"

He was surprised that he was surprised at the question. This was the issue with him and Tom. Why it wouldn't be brought up by his Father wasn't even worth thinking about. "I want him to believe in his strength. And yet, it's that strength that's frightened me. You're right. I can only promise to do my best."

"You will not be in control with this one, Chakotay."

He smiled fully. "Yes, Father, I know. Believe me, I know. But I love him."

A noise from the forest startled him. Who he saw approaching made his skipping heartbeat race. A small boy, with the grayish skin tone and black eyes of the Umbra but bright, almost white, blond hair. He guessed his age at somewhere between seven and eight in human years. The boy walked right up to Kolopak, sat down and focused his dark stare on Chakotay. He felt as if his soul were being stripped bare and examined. He was not afraid.

Greg put his hands in front of his face but couldn't see them. The sound of his heart was so loud the he almost wished he would die just to stop it. He hit his combadge and tried to contact Harry first, then each member of the group but could not get any response. Don't panic, Greggie, don't panic, you're Maquis, a Starfleet officer, you've seen everything, don't panic... He tried to think. He'd have to find his way back to the entrance foyer, then he could just yell and his friends would find him. Which direction had he been facing? The way Harry had gone. He knew, however, he'd have to locate a wall, so he could guide himself back. Moving slowly and carefully forward and somewhat to his right with his arms outstretched he took step after step. He went twenty steps and still hadn't touched anything. Not a stick of furniture, not a wall, not a doorway, not a light fixture. Twenty short steps was approximately ten or fifteen meters. The hallway was nowhere near that wide. Even given the angle he was trying to move in, he should have hit something by now. He made what he hoped was a ninety degree turn to the right and walked forward.

Tom settled for holding on to the sleeve of Harry's tunic. Each time he tried to hold on to him, Harry'd managed to twist out of it. For some reason, he didn't seem to mind Tom holding on to his tunic, or maybe he simply didn't notice it. Tom had been unsuccessful in steering him anywhere, and now was just tagging along. He tried to talk to Harry about the music but the most he could learn was that it was clarinet music. This didn't surprise him. He took some comfort in the fact that Harry actually did respond to his questions in some form or another. At least he heard him. He was also assuming that they'd stop at some point, so he tried to remember each turn they took, not forgetting for a minute what had happened to his friends the night before in the other wing of the building.

Harry was walking through the streets of his home town, following the music of the clarinetist. Running into Tom had been a very pleasant surprise, his best friend hadn't told him he was coming for a visit. He was looking forward to introducing Tom to his parents. They walked the darkened streets, the musician calling to them, as though they were in that small German town of Hamelin...

"You are Umbran? What's your name?" Chakotay asked the boy.

But rather than answer directly, the child whispered to Kolopak. "He says I can speak for him. His name is not important. Yes, he's Umbran. He is also part of your destiny, Son."

"You're the one, aren't you, the one I saw in the window, the one who was touching me this morning. Aren't you?" Chakotay asked, though he suddenly knew the question didn't need an answer. "Why did you contact me?"

"There is an ancient prophecy that states someone of the Sky Spirits will arrive on Umbra." Kolopak paused.

"But I'm only marginally of the Sky Spirits, Father."

"Perhaps you can look at it that way, nonetheless, you are of them. It was written." The boy whispered in his Father's ear again. "How is Tom?" Kolopak said.

"What? How's Tom? He's fine. With his friends. What is it I'm supposed to do to fulfill this destiny?"

"Does Tom fly?"

"Father," Chakotay said harshly, "why more questions about Tom? Yes, he flies. He is a pilot."

"The questions are not mine, Son," Kolopak replied. He looked at the child. "Does he soar?"

Chakotay sighed. "I don't understand the question. I suppose, yes, he soars. He loves to fly, so when he's doing it, his spirit soars. You can see it in his face, his hands, his eyes..."

"And he is beautiful when he does this?"

For the first time, Chakotay felt his cheeks flame at his father's question. "Yes," was all he could bring himself to say. "Now, about the destiny I am to fulfill, I have no idea what it could be, and we'll be leaving the planet tomorrow..."

"What does Tom fear?"

Chakotay studied the three people sitting in front of him. Studied them closely. Their faces were implacable. He actually yearned for the wolf, though he'd missed his father dearly. "Why is the child asking questions about Tom? I cannot speak for him. On this plane."

Kolopak smiled. "Perhaps that is the issue at hand."

Harry received another surprise when they arrived at his home, for the music was drifting out of an open window. Perhaps his parents had found him a practice partner, or a new teacher who could give him private lessons. He brought Tom to the front door and, after opening it, motioned him inside.

"Tom, I'd like you to meet my parents," he said, smiling.

At that very moment the music stopped. Harry looked into the living area and his heart stopped just as abruptly. He was staring at himself, holding a clarinet to the side, looking back at him with wide eyes. Harry's eyes drifted and he saw his parents. His father jumped to his feet, shouting.

"Get out of our house, or I'll contact the authorities! Get OUT!"

Harry took one look at that cold face and his chest imploded from the pain.

Tom and Harry reached what was, apparently to Tom, the end of their journey. They'd stepped into a room.  But rather than Harry being pleased, as Tom thought he would be, the man stopped inside the doorway then sank to his knees and began to wail. A soul shattering keen. Tom knew that sound - and he wondered who'd died, who Harry was seeing, and mourning. The younger man put his face in his hands, gulping air. Tom dropped down next to him and threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, murmuring words of comfort to him. He was about to hit his combadge when Harry began to mumble in his native language and rock himself back and forth.

"Harry, Harry, wake up, come on, it's Tom. Look, we've got to get out of here, and back to everyone else..."

But his friend didn't seem to hear him. At all. The staccato, sing-song language continued.

Tom moved in front of him and took him by the shoulders. "HARRY!" He shook him and for too brief a moment, their eyes locked together and the brown ones focused clearly. Only to glaze over once more. The talking stopped, however. Tom hit his combadge and tried everyone, Chakotay first, but there was no response. He decided he'd have to somehow get them to move back through the building, or leave Harry and go alone. That's when he realized the door was closed, though he had absolutely no memory of that happening. He stood and tried the doorknob. It didn't turn.

"Father, please. I have questions. There are things that are happening here, that I think can be answered by those of the other side. I'm responsible for my crew's safety..." Chakotay held out his hands.

"Chakotay, I love you as part of my very heart and soul. My Father and I are only here to help you. Conditions are not right. That's all I can say. There is one question that we can answer for you, if you can find it."

He let himself breathe and think about other questions he'd been considering since he'd come to this planet. The breeze that brushed his cheeks confirmed his choice. "I had a lapse of memory and did something I wouldn't have consciously decided to do," he said, trying to calm his stomach, "and my doctor says the gene is still dormant. Is that true?"

To his surprise, his Grandfather moved closer to him and clasped his left hand. The boy did the same, clasping his other hand. Neither said a word. He looked from them to his Father, the man he trusted above any other.

"Yes, Chakotay, my Son, it is true. You are not losing your mind. All will be made clear. When the conditions are right."

The relief he felt was overpowering. Tears pricked his eyelids and his head drooped. He wasn't certain how long he stayed like that, but when he opened his eyes and raised his head, the candle and lamp lit room surrounded him. He was sitting on the quilt, on the four poster, the contents of his bundle in front of his knees. Picking up the carved piece of wood, he ran his thumb over the two intertwined rings and the leaves that adorned them.

Greg had walked in the direction he thought would bring him, without a doubt, to the wall. Again he had taken more than enough steps to find it. All he found was empty space. This time he'd made a one hundred and eighty degree turn and walked but found nothing. Serious panic was setting in. He'd hoped that thinking of things more frightening than this situation, like the Borg, or species 8472, would make this experience seem not so bad. Just the opposite happened, however, and he began to imagine being blind on a cube, not knowing where the drones were, not being able to tell when the probe was going to hit his neck. You're a strong man, Greg. The protector. He choked on the word as he sank down to the floor, crying for a stronger man. Help me, Chakotay...

He'd just finished closing his medicine bundle when the captain called in for her routine check. Chakotay told her that as far as he knew everything was fine, but that they had decided to do some quiet investigating to see if they could find out why the sun was darkened. He told her nothing of the other occurrences, knowing he'd pay for that omission once they were home, but he was willing to face those consequences. They needed time. She didn't need to worry. And the bottom line was, still, they needed this deuterium - no matter what the hell else was going on. He tried to convince her to skip at least the next check in, if not the next two. She would only say that she'd think about it. He didn't prolong the discussion, as he was anxious to talk to Tom. More than anxious, truth be told. He felt a deep longing.

So when he commed him and got no response, his heart fell to his knees. He couldn't make contact with Greg or Harry either. He was out the door within a nanosecond, hitting his combadge for the fourth time, this time with success. He ordered Tuvok and Neelix to meet him in the foyer. They'd start the search from there. He would find the three men. He would find the one who mattered the most, or die trying.
 
 
 

On to Part Seven

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