Greg Ayala got settled on his bed, sitting against the headboard with his long legs stretched out. He rotated his ankles and sighed as the tension from a day of standing lessened, and blood flowed into his sore Achilles tendons. After taking a long drink of synthale, he pulled his console onto his lap and began.
Personal Log, Lt. Gregory Ayala - SD 49325.6
I had a long and boring day today, Harry. Spent my shift in the brig, just in case you were wondering why I wasn't on the bridge. Can't imagine you would've noticed. Lieutenant Tuvok was a little miffed with me, and don't let anyone convince you that man doesn't get angry. He may not show it, but he gets there. Anyway, he was not happy that I put in a request for more than two days off in a row - said that in Starfleet, a man always accepts what he's been handed and only asks for more when it's absolutely necessary. Like I don't already know that. Been on this ship for two years now. Was just needing a break, that's all.
So the day was spent in the brig, guarding no one. Staring at the empty cells. Did manage to break into your game file in the computer and you saved my sanity. You and Tom have got quite a collection started there. Spent some hours playing virtual hoverball and almost beat the house, too. Maybe some day I'll be able to thank you.
I spent a lot of time thinking about what I'd have done with you, if you'd been down there with me. We could have put a lock on the door that not many could've overridden. You'd have been able to take care of that for us. I sometimes think you can do anything, Harry. I don't believe the captain sees what I do. And are you wondering what exactly I would have done with you? Could you even guess how much I want from you? How much - hell, Harry, how much I want to give you?
First, I would have grabbed you as soon as the lock was secure, and held you, and felt your hard body close to me, and nibbled on your lips ... I keep wondering how you taste. If it's like that faintly spicy smell I catch when we're in the lift. I don't think that's any Starfleet issued soap. Don't know what it is ... Then I would have steered you over to one of those cots that I stared at most of today. Taken your uniform off, piece by piece, and mine, then peeled your briefs down, and mine. Pushed you onto the cot and eaten every inch of you until you called out my name as you came. Then I would have fucked you into oblivion, until you called my name again, and I called out yours. Then I would have kissed you and
Greg shook his head. "No, not 'kissed'...," he muttered. He'd want to do more than merely kiss him, though Harry's full lips were enticing enough on their own. "Shove my tongue down your throat's more like it." He tried to think of a good word. Consume. Feast. Relish. Devour. "Yes - devour."
Then I would have devoured your mouth, sucked on your tongue and held your naked body next to mine. END LOG.
He took a swig of his drink and smiled. This had been his first foray into writing something so explicit - he chalked up the urge to the hellish day he'd had. But he was proud of the end result. He wondered if he could get a job writing illegal soft-core porn if they ever made it back to the Alpha Quadrant.
"I can't believe I'm really hearing you say that, Harry." Tom leaned back and folded his arms, smiling.
Harry let his indignation show. "I'm not unwilling. I'd do it, for a good enough payoff."
Tom stared at him. "Good enough payoff? Okay. You do this and I'll let everyone see you beat me at pool."
"You'll let me beat you...," Harry said with disgust.
"Harry. Calm down. When have you won at pool?"
"Doesn't matter. I could the next time."
"You will the next time. And don't worry - no one will know the game is fixed."
Harry considered his options for only another moment. "Okay, deal. Whose shall we hack into?"
"The commander's," Tom said without hesitation.
Harry shook his head. "No way, Tom. First of all, I'd like to have a chance of keeping my position if we get caught and secondly, they might contain personal stuff. And stuff about crew members' counseling sessions. Nope. Not his."
It was precisely the personal stuff that Tom was wanting to read. He was almost desperate for some ammunition to use in his unending mission of getting through that kilometers-thick barrier that Commander Chakotay had erected around himself. But he'd miss Harry on the bridge. He compromised. "Okay - you've got a good point. How about Greg's? There can't be anything too earth shattering in 'em. We'll just use his as a test. To see if you can do it." Tom wanted to see if Greg, being the person closest to Chakotay, had anything to say about the man. Maybe a log entry from when they were first in the DQ. The early period of adjustment could prove interesting, possibly enlightening.
"Okay," said Harry, "Ayala's it is." He pulled his console closer to him and Tom moved his chair so they were side by side. Harry took a deep breath and, hiding the pathways in a series of encryptions, got to some serious hacking.
About thirty minutes after starting, Harry finally made his way completely through the system, until they were looking at the data bank of Lt. Gregory Ayala's personal logs.
"Way to go Harry, my man," said Tom enthusiastically.
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Tom. So which one shall we read?" He didn't care, he was just itching to read one. He was deliberately not questioning his motives or why he wanted to break the rules sitting at Tom's side.
"Let's look at one from right after we joined crews. Maybe he'll say something good about Tuvok..."
Harry looked at his friend, trying to read him, catching some nuance behind the words he couldn't quite identify. After a moment, he gave up, nodded and picked an early entry.
Personal Log, Lt. Gregory Ayala - SD 48101.2
I'm trying hard to do what Cap said, and suck it in for Tuvok. But on days like
"Who's 'Cap' - the commander?" Harry asked. "Never heard Ayala use that."
"Yeah, he's talking about Chakotay. That's what he called him on the Liberty. He was the only one who could get away with it."
"Oh." Now that they were actually in, Harry wasn't quite as sure as he'd been that what they were doing was innocuous. However, he continued to read.
But on days like today it's not easy. I'm grateful that Tuvok asked for me specifically to be part of his department but I can't help still seeing the traitor and spy when I look at him. But I gave Cap my word. If only he'd listen to me in return. He's going to have to do something about Tom and talking about it would be a good start. Whenever I bring it up, he just gives me the look. Maybe I should try talking to Tom myself. And I sure would like to get to know Harry Kim better. END LOG.
Harry hit the interface quickly, more out of reflex than anything. He sincerely hoped the skip in his heart hadn't manifested on his face. The screen went blank.
"Hey, don't do that!" said Tom, grabbing his arm.
"Why not? We saw enough. I made it in. I win the wager. I am curious, though - did he ever talk to you? What did he mean by all that?"
Tom stood in one fluid motion and returned his chair to it's original spot. "No, not that I remember. Don't know what he meant. See you for dinner? An hour?"
Harry studied the man again, but decided to drop the topic. He agreed to meet Tom in the mess and walked him to the door. His heart beating a little erratically, he returned to his desk and console. Perhaps a later entry? He started to hack once more.
Personal Log, Lt. Gregory Ayala - SD 48506.1
I have a confession to make to you, Harry. I overheard you talking to Tom during your lunch today. I didn't mean to do it, I just didn't have a choice, there was only the table next to yours with an open seat. I'm sorry you're missing Earth so much. And I'm sorry that Tom wasn't all that sympathetic. I know a bit more about him than you do so I really wasn't surprised to hear him say what he did. Try not to hold it against him too much.
He's an okay guy, I agree with you on that one. I never thought he was as much of a screw-up as others did, and it's true he has a gift for flying. He saved our asses more than a few times. And I never did understand what happened between him and Chakotay, why things got to be as bad as they did. Just one day it went from wonderful to horrible. The captain would never talk about it. I tried, but I couldn't get anywhere.
And I know that people on this ship say that you and Tom are lovers. I don't think I believe that. No offense, but you're not his type. At least I hope you're not. But he's obviously a good friend to you. You're very lucky.
I wish I could tell you how sorry I am that you're homesick. I understand the feeling. I bet you don't know that I have two sons. Bernardo and Estevan. Bernie is nine, and a real handful. Steve is only six, he's the serious one. Even in the Maquis, I still managed to see them fairly regularly. They were living with their mother and her family when I last saw them. I used to be smuggled down to Earth on a transport, with fake identifiers each time. Chakotay made sure of it. Said I needed to stay in touch with my kids. That family was everything. He was right. But now it's been almost a year since I last saw them. They probably think I'm dead. END LOG.
Harry stared at the console. Which was more startling he had no idea. His best friend and some kind of relationship he'd had with the commander? Or the mere fact that Gregory Ayala was writing personal logs to him.
Harry was a Starfleet officer, trained extensively to solve problems, riddles, and conundrums, even. To gather all pertinent facts and make a logical, deductive conclusion. He'd only gotten so far in the logs, up to one year after they'd been stranded. Ayala had never made any overture of friendship toward him in the two years since they'd met. They were friendly, certainly. They worked together efficiently. Harry always felt comfortable when Ayala worked Tactical on the bridge. Comfortable when the man played pool with Tom, or hung out with the crowd in Sandrine's.
He reread the log entry. Why would Ayala make that comment about Tom being Harry's lover? He wasn't offended, but he was definitely confused. Clearly more information was needed. He shut down the console and left for the mess hall - dinner, his best friend, and perhaps a gathering of facts.
Entering the mess, he was surprised to see Tom sitting with the man in question, talking to him jovially, though Ayala answered without many returned smiles. Maybe Tom was feeling guilty for invading the man's privacy. Harry was. But not enough to drop his inquiry. He picked up some food of a color no food should be, thanked Neelix, and joined them.
"... I heard it was Pablo," Tom was saying.
Ayala shook his head. "Wasn't him."
"Who did what?" Harry asked, looking from one to the other. Tom grinned, Ayala barely made eye contact. Harry stabbed a morsel of food.
Tom said, "Somebody tried to sabotage last night's dinner. Apparently dumped an entire bottle of spice in the dish, Neelix swears it wasn't him. He said the food was ruined."
"How could he tell?" Harry responded. This time Tom laughed out loud, and Ayala looked as if he was trying to stop a smile from creeping across his face.
"My thoughts, exactly, Harry," answered Tom. "And Greg here knows who did it - and won't say."
Ayala shrugged. "Not my place to say. I was privy to the investigation. The culprit has been suitably punished," said the man seriously.
Tom snorted. "Well, what's the punishment?"
"Can't tell you. Might give it away." Ayala finished his drink with one long swallow.
Harry watched him more closely than he ever had before, and without realizing it, was staring. Ayala's deep set eyes briefly met his, before moving away to look over Harry's shoulder. He decided to change the subject and see what happened. "So, Greg, how was your day off today?"
The dark eyes drifted slowly back to his. "I didn't have a day off today."
He was surprised. "I just assumed, I mean you weren't on the bridge and now you're out of uniform."
Ayala stared himself, for just a moment, then his face became a stony mask and he stood. Picking up his tray, he said quietly, "I was assigned duty somewhere else. See you both tomorrow." He left.
Tom looked at Harry. "That was weird."
Harry shrugged and ate more of the concoction on his plate. "What was?"
"Seemed like your question about his duty today made him uncomfortable. I wonder why...," answered Tom.
"I think sometimes that you wonder too much about this stuff," Harry said lightly. "If you're so curious about Greg's duty shift, why don't you ask the commander about it?"
"And why do you think he would tell me?"
"I don't know. You two do go way back."
Tom huffed. "What ship have you been inhabiting, Harry?"
"At the moment, Tom, I'm really not sure." Harry took a drink, and avoided his friend's glance altogether.
On his way out of the room, Greg stopped at Chakotay's table and after the superior officer nodded, he sat down with him.
"Chakotay," Greg said quietly, not wanted to draw too much attention to himself, "are you up for playing some pool tonight? I could really use the distraction."
The man smiled, one of his rare full dimpled smiles. "I saw. What happened - did he get too close?"
"Do you want to play some pool?" Greg repeated.
Chakotay, still smiling, stood up. "Sure. Let's stop at my cabin so I can change."
"Thank you," Greg said with a touch of sarcasm.
Walking the short distance to the quarters of the First Officer, Chakotay leaned closer to him. "You know, this is completely ridiculous. Completely."
Greg ignored the remark.
Inside, Chakotay went right to his bedroom, waving for Greg to follow, taking off his jacket on the way. He didn't think twice, and went with his former captain and closest friend. A man he would gladly die for.
Chakotay was at the closet, and Greg plopped on the bed. "I just have to say, Greg," the man removed the rest of his uniform and hung it up, "I don't understand. I haven't understood for almost two years now, and I still don't." He turned. "Why the hell don't you just ask him out?"
At that moment, Greg thought that perhaps he wouldn't gladly die for Chakotay, he might just gladly kill him. "Did you miss what I said? Distraction! I need distraction, not analysis."
Chakotay put on some pants. "You need a good fuck, that's what you need," he muttered.
"Not from him, I don't."
"Like hell." He pulled on a tunic and slipped on his shoes.
"What do you know about it..."
Chakotay put his hands on his hips and stared at him. "You're kidding, right? You have been mooning over Harry Kim ever since we got on board! And don't give me that shit about how he's not right for you. If he's not right, then find someone else." He turned and closed the closet.
"You know, Chakotay, I could say something right about now," Greg stated. "Something about how you might not be the best person in the world to be giving me advice about men." The "look" was beginning, gearing up to be sent full blast. He paid it no attention. "So before you give me directives about how to handle my feelings, look in the mirror and tell yourself you're not in love with him any more. And then say it again. And then say it to me, and maybe I'll believe you. I doubt it, but maybe I will."
But rather than the look continuing, Chakotay sighed. "I'm not in love with him any more."
Greg shook his head. "Sorry. Don't believe it. And I won't go out with Harry on principle. He's Starfleet."
Chakotay shook his head. "That's a crock of shit."
"Yeah, well, then I guess we're both full of it. Let's go play pool and beat those balls into submission. Come on."
They went out into the corridor, heading for the turbolift. Chakotay, in a rare show of normalcy in public, put his arm around Greg's shoulders. "Maybe we are full of it," he said in a low voice, sighing again.
Greg was about to respond when the man tensed, dropped his arm and pulled away. Ahead of them, also at the turbolift, were Tom and Harry. His heartbeat increased. They all shared greetings and the others made small talk as the lift carried them to their destinations. It was a relief when Harry got off on deck four. The tension did not decrease, however, as it was now obvious that Tom was heading for Sandrine's as well. Greg glanced to his right. Chakotay was looking straight ahead with a firm jaw, but still keeping up the pretense of their little world being just fine, and right, and in alignment as he continued to chat. He silently promised his friend as much distraction as he could give him.
Harry had made a decision in the mess hall. He was going to forget his feelings of guilt over what he and Tom had done earlier. Not to mention what he'd done after the man had left. But Tom wanted to see more and was pushing hard for it. Harry had convinced his friend that he would no longer read any of Greg's personal logs, so that Tom would leave him alone - to do just that. Harry wanted to understand the strange reaction his comment had elicited. Greg Ayala had clearly been thrown by what Harry thought was an innocent remark. A friendly remark. He thought the man wanted to be friends.
He sat down at the console and began to work his way through the system. Getting to his goal took much less time now that he'd done it twice already. Within a few minutes, he was again looking at the data bank of log entries. He found that day's, and opened it.
After reading the first two lines, he understood why Greg had been shocked by what he'd said. The man actually thought Harry wouldn't have noticed that he was off the bridge. Harry couldn't believe it - did Greg really think that he was that unremarkable? His physical presence alone was something to notice; his height, his strength, his quiet confidence.
He kept going. Reading Greg's assessment of Tuvok and the fact that he'd found the illicit computer games made Harry laugh. He hadn't known the man had such a sense of fun, and felt badly about that. He read the next few lines and his heart began to thunder in his chest. Greg thought he was, apparently, brilliant and under-appreciated. But before he could fully comprehend how he'd engendered such deep feelings in Greg...
And are you wondering what exactly I would have done with you? Could you even guess how much I want from you? How much - hell, Harry, how much I want to give you? First, I would have grabbed you as soon as the lock was secure, and held you, and felt your hard body close to me, and nibbled on your lips ...
The words swam in front of his eyes. He read them again. And again. "fuck you into oblivion..." Those imprinted themselves permanently onto his brain. His body was reacting in all kinds of ways to Greg's thoughts, and wishes. Blood was surging into his groin so fast that he felt light headed. His skin was hot. His lips tingled. He read it again. Greg?
He woke up some hours later, from a dream that was too vivid. The brig. He was in the brig, but he wasn't in the brig. It kept shifting to some unidentifiable quarters. Greg was guarding him, then it was someone else. Greg was lying on top of him and kissing him deeply, then he was back to guarding him. Greg was kneeling in front of him and holding his hips while someone else guarded them both. That's when Harry had woken up, and tried to remember what was real and what wasn't.
He had the very distinct feeling that he was not going to be able to sleep, at least for a little while. Rather than staring at the walls and ceiling, he got up, replicated himself some warm milk and sat at his console.
Personal Log. Ensign Harry Kim. SD 49326.1
I can't sleep, Greg. I need to make a confession to you and I can never tell you. So I'm screwed. That's not a word that should be in a log, personal or not. But neither is the word fuck, and it's that word that's keeping me up. Why haven't you said anything to me? Why haven't you even asked me out? Acted like you wanted to be friends with me? What are you thinking? Maybe I'll go pound on your door and ask you. But then I'll have to confess. END LOG.
Finishing the milk, he made what he thought might be a rash decision, but he really felt he had no choice. He planned no confession. He sent a message to Greg, asking him to dinner.