GENTLEMEN'S AGREEMENT

Title: Gentlemen's Agreement, 12/16 
Author: Jaye (Copyright June 2002) 
Codes: C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager and all related characters and
concepts  are the property of Paramount. No infringement is
intended or profit  made. This is NC-17 for m/m sex. If you
aren't interested (or aren't old  enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please
keep  the text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: An alien royal makes Chakotay an offer he can't refuse.

Note: My first fight scene, so any advice for improvement is
welcomed.  Slightly AU, P/T never happened and I don't know how
canon Chakotay  dresses off duty. Also, Tom's 30, Chakotay 39.

***************

PART TWELVE

/He is hopeless. Absolutely hopeless./ Kathryn Janeway breathed
deeply  the aroma of her steaming coffee, the first of the day.
She leaned back  on her Ready Room sofa and regarded the man
tucked into the opposite  corner. "So what brings you to my
office this early on a day off,  Chakotay?" Her eyes narrowed,
watching her caftan-clad First Officer sip his  tea. "Shouldn't
you be preparing for your bout?" Kathryn could see  concern in
the dark brown eyes, sparking the same emotion in her own. The 
two looked like mismatched bookends; each one had a folded knee
on the  cushions.

"Sisryn told me something yesterday that worries me. It even has
the  potential to explode into a Prime Directive violation."
Chakotay stared  into his cup of chamomile and mint. The
normally soothing blend wasn't  working this morning. He sighed.
"According to the Rutali Chief Consul,  if Nedal loses this
combat there's a chance it will spark a civil war."

"But this is a non-lethal bout." Kathryn sat up in denial.
"Sisryn  reassured us that this was *not* all that serious."

"Physically, yes. But in terms of appearances...the Rutali may
not  consider me a worthy opponent. If the Regent is defeated by
a 'mere human',  it may weaken his position among his people.
That could lead to a  formal challenge to his rule."

"Voyager gets swept into the conflict. And you end up caught in
the  middle of it---literally." One small hand rose to stroke
across the pale  brow and short brown hair, then returned to
cradle the mug, actively  seeking the comfort of its warmth.
"Just what we needed. More  complications."

"Yes." Chakotay sighed and set down his cup. His expression
turned  grim. "Actually, I'm surprised I had to tell you. I sent
a brief note to  Tuvok last night, outlining the situation and
asking for his tactical  assessment." Brown eyes flicked to the
blue-gray of his listener's. "I  rejected his proposed course of
action the second I read it."

He continued, "I figured the moment he determined my response
was  confirmation of...a lack of objectivity, Tuvok would be
updating you. I  guess despite the logic, our Vulcan Chief of
Security was as appalled by  his idea as I was." He shook his
head. "Even if not for the same  reasons."

Kathryn relinquished her mug and turned back, her hands
accentuating  her flatly delivered statements. "Let me fill in
the blanks in *your*  report, Commander. Tuvok considered our
objective, which is to get as far  as possible through the
wormhole. He factored in the obvious  indications that the
Regent dislikes you and clearly prefers Lieutenant Paris;  the
negative impact of your defeating Nedal; the likely benefits of 
transferring that pretty piece of jewelry to our fair-haired
lad's neck. And  deduced that the logical thing to do is to have
you throw the fight."

"Yes." Chakotay's voice snapped out in a growl. He immediately 
recovered his composure, but his dark eyes still glittered
dangerously. "Make  no mistake, Kathryn, I am not a
disinterested party here. I'll help  however I can to minimize
the fallout from the Regent's defeat, but I will  *not* allow
Nedal to have Tom. Not while I am breathing."

"So it's like that, is it?" Kathryn's eyes had a hard, flinty
glint to  them.

"Yes. If you order me to do otherwise, you'll have to wait to 
court-martial me until after we get through the wormhole."

In a flash the Captain relaxed from her falsely rigid stance and
graced  her First Officer with a sly smile. "I thought you would
say that." She  picked up her coffee again. "Tuvok *did* send a
report, including your  reply. I think he was relieved to assume
I'd support your decision."

She gave her companion an exasperated look. "Of course I'm not
going to  force you to put Tom in danger, regardless of your
feelings towards  him. So...how long *have* you been in love
with our Chief Pilot?"

Chakotay sagged, relieved. He didn't think it was likely, but
there had  been a small chance the Captain would agree with
Tuvok. Of course, the  second he relaxed his control he started
blushing. /Spirits, you'd  think I'd be over this by now./ "I'm
not sure, exactly. I've been trying to  ignore any...emotional
entanglements. I only admitted it to myself  yesterday."

He looked at his friend with a grateful smile. "Thank you, by
the way,  for not prying. From the looks you've been giving Tom
and me on the  bridge, you must have gone to Sickbay at least
twice in the last few days.  To get your tongue repaired from
biting it so hard." That earned him a  laugh.

"You don't know the half of it. It's been driving me crazy,
knowing the  two of you were locked in together every night."
Kathryn shrugged. "But  I figured it was better not to stir up
any salacious rumors since the  ones we had were innocent
enough. And you'd already given up your  privacy by contacting
Ken." Her eyes softened as she whispered, "You'll never  know
how much that meant to me."

Chakotay reached over and laid a hand on her knee a moment with
a  smile. "You're welcome. I'm glad he could help."

"Yes he did. Ken exceeded all of my expectations." She grew
misty-eyed  for a moment. "And all of my hopes." She laid a
delicate hand on top of  the larger, darker one and squeezed
gently. "I'm guessing that it's not  the same for you?" she
asked sympathetically.

"No, Kathryn, it's not." Chakotay sighed. "I was pretty shocked
to find  myself in love with a man, especially because I *knew*
nothing could  come of it. But who can resist the siren's call?"

"Is it so hopeless, Chakotay?" The blue eyes were soft now with 
concern. "Doesn't Tom feel anything for you?"

The dark head shook in denial. "No, he told me plainly to my
face last  night that our...affair...couldn't mean anything to
him. He didn't  *want* it to." Chakotay's smile was sad but
accepting. "We won't even be a  nine days' wonder."

His thumb lifted to brush Kathryn's hand in reassurance. The
twinkling  of his eyes took the sting out of his words. "I'll be
all right. I'm  certainly no stranger to unrequited passions."
He shifted back, gently  breaking their connection. "Don't
worry, this...problem...of mine won't  disrupt anything on
board. Tom and I have already agreed to forget this  ever
happened when I get back from Ruta."

"I'm not worried about the ship, Chakotay. I'm worried about my 
friend." Kathryn's head tilted thoughtfully. "You should tell
Tom how you  feel."

"Why? So we can be awkward and uncomfortable with each other for
the  next few days? Besides, I still need his help. And Tom made
it pretty  clear he'd bolt at the first sign things were getting
serious."

Chakotay stood and restlessly moved around the landing. "What
exactly  are you suggesting I do, Kathryn? Tell him I love him
and then merrily  go off to another man's bed? One that I'm
being *paid* to inhabit? As  bad as Tom's reputation has been,
he was never a whore." He sat back down  and lifted his hands in
a gesture of futility. "How can anyone be  expected to just
write off such a fundamental betrayal?"

Kathryn's eyes were serious as she remembered Ken's words.
"People can  surprise you, Chakotay, and love grants you the
ability to forgive many  things."

"Maybe. But Tom *doesn't* love me. So there's no point in
spoiling the  little time I have left with him." Chakotay shook
his head and  dismissed all of his impossible dreams. Right now
he needed focus and clarity,  not the ambiguity of false hopes.
"I know you won't say anything to  him," he paused until he
received a defeated nod of agreement, "and I  don't really want
to discuss this anymore. Please."

"All right," Kathryn sighed and became the Captain once more,
putting  aside the ache she felt for her dear friend's pain and
her annoyance at  his stubbornness. "Back to business. How do we
keep that damn cat on  his throne?"

Chakotay signaled his appreciation of her tact with a quick
flash of  gratitude, then briskly replied, "The only thing I can
think of is to  make the victory seem like beginner's luck. That
it's so impossible that  *I* could defeat someone like the
Regent that it has to be a fluke. The  Chief Consul mentioned
that such things have happened in the quest to  become Regent."

His CO's agile, Starfleet-trained mind mused over the
possibilities.  "That could work, especially with a knockout.
You could make a few clumsy  swings, then bump him into a
bulkhead or something." She looked up at  the Commander. "Of
course, we can't have your cheering section talking  about 'the
bold bad Maquis Warrior' or shouting, 'Strut your stuff, Big 
Man'!" She nearly laughed as she caught more roses of
embarrassment  blooming on the bronzed cheeks.

"We also can't have anyone urging me to 'Rip his head off' or 
'Eviscerate the bastard'," Chakotay agreed. "We don't want this
turning into a  grudge match. Things are bound to be ugly
enough."

"Good point. Tuvok can give a quick refresher on proper
Starfleet  decorum. And *I'll* reinforce it. We'll present the
combat as something more  along the lines of a ritual to be
respected."

"I think we need a little insurance," Chakotay said slowly,
stroking  his chin. "Maybe a few hints dropped here and there
this morning that I'm  worried about the outcome of the fight.
Knowing Voyager's grapevine  everyone will have heard the news
by noon."

"Maybe. But you're the only one who can do that---people would
know  something was up if I wasn't supporting you one hundred
percent." She  quirked an eyebrow at him. "Have you said
anything to Tom?"

"Yes, but he also heard how certain I am that I *will* win." He 
shrugged sheepishly. "All I could think of at the time was how
sure I was that  Tom would be kept safe. That was practically a
shout, while my concerns  were a whisper."

"Gone all fierce protector already, hmmm? I'm surprised Tom
hasn't  figured you out."

"He seemed to accept it as part of my Commander persona, not
directed  toward him at all. And we shifted to a different
subject almost  immediately." Chakotay snapped his fingers.
"B'Elanna!"

"B'Elanna? Are you sure, Chakotay? You've never lied to her, and
she  may not believe that you're doubting your fighting skills.
After all,  don't you two run through Klingon combat scenarios
pretty regularly?"

"First off, I haven't lied to *anyone* on this ship, so far as I
know.  And B'Elanna's familiarity with my abilities will add the
stamp of  authenticity. If I can convince her I'm worried about
this match then she  will be too."

"And so will most of the ship as soon as she drops a word in
Harry's  ear." Kathryn nodded, then looked at Chakotay more
closely. "Just how far  from the truth will it be?"

"Not much. I *am* concerned about what will happen. After the
combat. I  already know I'm going to win. I don't have any other
choice."

"Then you'd best get going, because you don't have all that much
time  for gossip." As they rose and descended the few steps,
Kathryn stopped  her friend with a touch on his beige sleeve. "I
wish *I* had another  choice, Chakotay. I don't think I'm going
to draw an easy breath from now  until you get back from the
homeworld."

"Concern from a friend, even from my captain, I'll readily
accept." He  shook a warning finger at her with his free hand.
"But the first sign  of ADBUG and I'll sic Mr. Dalby on you."

"Understood." Kathryn released him with a grateful smile.
"You're  supposed to arrive separately, so I'll see you in the
arena."

Contemplative blue-gray eyes followed Chakotay as he left the
room.  /What a wonderful, noble man. It's a pity he can't have
the love he  deserves. Just the pain of falling for and losing
Tom, then this tawdry  business with Nedal./ Kathryn took a
moment to make a foolish, romantic wish  to the Fates, then
shook off all of her worries and went back to work.  Counting
the hours.

************************************************************

B'Elanna's brows were drawn together, her expression one of
fierce  concentration. Of course, her staff wasn't taking any
chances. They were  industriously performing their duties. In
case the scowl was just plain  fierce.

The Chief Engineer didn't notice, her full attention focused on
the  padd in her palm. One she knew shouldn't be at her duty
station,  especially not turned on during her shift. But she
couldn't resist. This puzzle  was driving her bonkers.

Suddenly a large bronzed hand appeared in her line of vision,
plucking  the object from her grip. A soft voice started
reading, "Painting, 4 to  25 hours, depending on canvas size,
style and method. Glassblowing, 2  to 14 hours. Pottery, 1 to 3
hours spinning, 8 to 24 hours baking,  additional time for
glazing. Woodcarving, 1 to 20 hours depending on size of 
product. Sculpting...Lieutenant, are you considering a new
hobby?"  Chakotay's expression was simply inquiring, but his
eyes told her that he  knew exactly what was going on.

B'Elanna decided to bluff anyway. "Yes, I was looking at
estimated time  requirements for a single project. To help me
decide on, um, which  one."

"Mmm-hmm. And you felt a deep compulsion to make this evaluation
at the  beginning of your workday?" Chakotay turned off the
padd. "Since you  don't seem to be particularly busy, could you
spare me a few minutes?"

B'Elanna looked more closely. The handsome face that had once
upon a  time haunted her dreams was carefully concealing
tension. "Sure, we can  go to my office."

The two didn't speak again until they had traveled to the second
floor  and closed the door behind them. B'Elanna quickly moved
to perch on a  corner of her desk. "So am I in trouble?" She
figured it was safe enough  to ask, since Chakotay was casually
dressed and obviously off-duty.

"Of course not." Chakotay laid the padd down. "But I'd
appreciate it if  you ended this particular investigation. Into
a new hobby."

"All right," she sighed in defeat, "but you should know that
there are  quite a few people mulling over the same information.
Trying to figure  out *what* exactly you and Tom are doing on
the holodeck. Every night.  *All* night. With a privacy lock
only the Captain can remove."

Chakotay winced. "I wasn't aware speculation was so rampant."

"It is. And the fact that Tom is doing his best clam impression
in  years doesn't help any." B'Elanna looked at her friend, her
eyes curious.  "What's really going on with the two of you?"

"You already know. Tom is helping me prepare a gift for the
Regent. For  when we reach Ruta. And that's all I'm going to say
on the matter." The  brown eyes were level. "I'm asking you to
leave this be."

"Okay." B'Elanna conceded. There was no arguing with Chakotay
when he  had *that* look. She doubted a tractor beam would be
able to shift him  from his decision. She crossed her arms. "So
what brings you to my neck  of the woods, off-duty and just
hours before your fight?"

Chakotay gave a rueful sigh. "More gossip. What's the
scuttlebutt on  the match?"

B'Elanna snorted. "Colorful, to say the least. Once people heard
what  happened to Tom, they began eagerly anticipating the main
event. They  can't wait for you to kick some royal ass."

Chakotay shook his head. "Why is everyone so damn *certain*
that's  going to happen?" His agitation was apparent as he
walked a circle around  B'Elanna's visitor chairs. "Hasn't
anybody even bothered to *look* at  this guy? He's taller than
me and built like a Klingon. Not to mention at  least a few
years younger."

"So what? You've taken out *Cardassians*. Including quite a few
that  were attacking me, as I recall."

"That was a long time ago."

"Not that long." Surprise washed across B'Elanna's face. "You're
really  worried, aren't you?" She got up off the desk and
stepped in front of  Chakotay, halting him. "Why? You're in
better shape than most everybody  on this ship. How many people
do you think can handle a bat'leth and  keep up with a
half-Klingon? And as for the age difference," she ran her  eyes
up and down his loosely-garbed figure, "you look damn good to
me.  You could crook your finger and have more than a few dozen
people eager  to stake a claim on the 'old man'."

Anxious brown eyes searched darker counterparts. "Since when did
you  start questioning your own abilities, Chakotay?"

"Since I got put in this bizarre situation." Chakotay moved to
one of  the visitor chairs and settled on an arm. "I'm fighting
the Regent to  prove I'm worthy of wearing this," he flipped the
Rutali seal, "but how  the hell am I supposed to seriously take
a swing at him? Assuming he  gives me the chance. I mean, Nedal
is going to be my host. It would be  very rude to beat him up,
to say the least."

"No matter how much he deserves it," B'Elanna said slowly,
realization  dawning, "or how much you'd enjoy it."

She moved nose-to-nose with her best friend and poked him in the
chest.  "You wily bastard. You were setting me up." Her eyes
narrowed. "You  were hoping I might mention your concerns in
passing to Harry, who might  discuss them with Neelix, who
couldn't help but share them with Tuvok.  Eventually the whole
ship would think you don't stand a chance."

Her voice became fierce. "Care to tell me why you would want
that to  happen? You have *never* lied to me, Chakotay."

Chakotay sighed. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. You're right, I was
hoping to  spread a little uncertainty. But I didn't want to put
*you* in the  position of having to lie to your friends." His
mouth quirked a bit.  "Unfortunately, you know me just a little
too well."

He tugged on an ear as he offered his explanation. "It's come to
light  that the Rutali will be watching this match carefully.
Maybe even  basing some political decisions on it." He looked at
his friend, his eyes  serious. "This isn't clear-cut, like
fighting a Cardie, B'El. And despite  Nedal's behavior I don't
think our crew should *enjoy* it quite so  much. It wouldn't be
good for diplomatic relations. We could come all this  way and
end up being denied the wormhole because the Rutali think we've 
insulted them."

B'Elanna smiled and laid a hand on Chakotay's shoulder. "You
could have  just told me that, you know."

"Probably," he admitted, "but I don't think we can just order
people to  stop being so bloodthirsty." He laid a hand on top of
B'Elanna's. "So  am I forgiven?"

"Yes, but only because I know this must be pretty damn important
for  you to pull a stunt like that." Her smile laid the matter
to rest. She  freed her hand and poked him once more. "Just
don't do it again."

"Understood."

B'Elanna's eyes grew speculative. "I'll pass the word to tone
things  down---say that you're concerned about the age thing and
all this talk  might make you overconfident." She rolled her
eyes at the ludicrousness  of the idea, but continued. "Or maybe
that you're applying some Maquis  strategy. You don't want to
tip our hand by being so obvious. It would  be better if Nedal
underestimated you."

Her expression became very serious, "But you can't ignore the
danger  you're in. You *have* to promise me that you're not
going to pull your  punches, Chakotay. You have to give this
your best. Nedal is certainly  not going to worry about hurt
feelings or political consequences, so  neither should you. From
what I've heard, all he's interested in is hurting  *you*. So
you can't be soft on him. It's too risky to do otherwise."  She
clenched her hands on his shoulders. "And honor demands no less. 
Don't let him win."

"He won't, B'Elanna. That much I promise you." /Failure is not
an  option./ Chakotay's expression was absolutely certain and
his eyes like  granite. B'Elanna shivered a little, seeing again
the Maquis warrior who  had once killed Cardassians with his
bare hands. She suddenly felt sorry  for Nedal. But only for a
second.

Then the chocolate eyes melted and Chakotay bestowed a light
kiss on  B'Elanna's forehead. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For seeing through the ruse but agreeing to pitch in anyway.
For  reminding me to get in touch with my inner Maquis."
Chakotay grinned and  gently moved his friend back a step so he
could stand. "See you later."

B'Elanna shook her head at his departing back. /And here I
figured this  would just be between Chakotay and Nedal. Damn
stupid politics. Why do  aliens always make things so
complicated?/ The Chief Engineer quickly  circled to her
terminal. She had some messages to send.

************************************************************

/Mr. Paris *enjoys* these sorts of things. He's qualified enough
for  this, and he's already here. Let him sit waiting to declare
the  victor---and patch up both victims of this barbaric ritual.
I have no desire to  see two men to strike each other into
unconsciousness. I'm a doctor,  not the Marquis of Queensberry./

While Voyager's EMH thought all these things, only a disgruntled
"Hmph"  passed his lips as he adjusted the medkit on his lap and
addressed his  neighbor. "Do you *really* think my services will
be needed?"

Sisryn turned and gave a diplomatic smile that hid her gritting
teeth  as she answered the question for the tenth time. "Yes,
Doctor. One  physician is usually all that is required, but our
medical staff is  unfamiliar with human physiology."

"Very well." The Doctor gave in grumpily and shifted in his
seat. "Are  they going to start soon? We've been here for twenty
minutes."

"I hope so, for I am also anxious for this issue to be decided
once and  for all." The Chief Consul's eyes swept the room. She
suddenly waved,  catching Milady's attention. She closed her
conversation with the EMH,  "Excuse me, but I have business to
attend to."

The hologram harrumphed again and turned to his other side,
wincing  when he ended up nose-to-nose with an excited Neelix.
He sighed. /This is  going to be a very long afternoon./

The elder Rutali approached and sank into the seat next to
Sisryn. "You  should be grateful Nedal gave you the liaison
job," she yawningly told  her fellow minister. "I think I've
been stopped by every Rutali on this  ship to discuss the
match."

"What are the reports from the prides? How do they and the
Rutali on  the ship view the combat, the Regent, and the Larat?
Is there a  prediction for the outcome?" The Chief Consul was
practically bouncing in her  seat. She'd been stuck cooling her
heels in the "arrival chamber" all  morning, since the
contingent from Voyager's crew had been brought over on  a
staggered schedule approved by the Regent. /As if I had nothing 
better to do than play tour guide to people who already know the
path  between that infamous conference room and this reception
hall./

"In order, very good, interesting, the sure winner, a plucky
contender,  a rather quick knockout." She laughed at the younger
woman's groan of  frustration. "To expound: the prides find the
idea of a Larat  challenging the Regent most titillating, though
they scoff at the lack of real  excitement a non-lethal combat
will likely provide. Our leader is  younger, stronger, bigger,
so he is favored for an easy victory. The Larat has  stirred
enough interest to gain some support of his own, but I believe 
it is more whimsical than serious. The consensus is that the
human will  make a valiant try, but ultimately be defeated by
superior Rutali  skill." The older woman gave a very feline
smile. "After all, we *are*  hunters."

The Chief Consul's eyes slitted in speculation. "But you,
Milady, have  always contended that Chakotay, too, knows the
predator's ways. Do  *you* doubt the worthiness of your choice
for Larat?"

"Of course not. I am simply answering your questions. You never 
inquired after my opinion." She leaned in with a knowing purr.
"And of course,  I don't need to ask who *you're* truly rooting
for."

Sisryn blushed and fell silent.

***************

Tom watched the Captain settle down next to Ken Dalby, still
holding  his hand. It was kind of Chakotay to make sure the
crewman's name was on  the list of Voyager personnel beaming
over to be the Commander's moral  support for the fight.

Tom was feeling rather unsettled. He of course had awakened
alone, his  companion already off on his mysterious errands.
Then there had been a  disturbing conversation with Harry before
the staff meeting. It seemed  that rumors were
circulating---pretty credible ones, considering  B'Elanna was
among the sources---that Chakotay was worried about the fight. 
Adding to the gossip was the report that the First Officer had 
disappeared into his cabin after visiting Engineering. He was
most notably  absent from the holodeck. People had expected the
Commander to take Tuvok up  on his offer to go a few rounds as a
warm-up for the combat.

Tom's restless gaze took in the changes to the hall. Banks of
seats had  been added to the shorter sides of the
rectangular-shaped room. Voyager  and Rutali representatives
were mixed evenly in both sections. The  torches still burned in
their wall mounts on the longer ends of the space,  and tape or
some other kind of boundary marked a large area in the  center,
a square that comprised the entire width of the hall, while its 
length ended a few meters from the first row of seats. The
lights were  brighter to approximate daylight.

Whispers slithered all around Tom, discussions of the challenge
and the  contenders. He didn't like eavesdropping on the Rutali;
they sounded  secure in their victory. The uncharacteristically
less-than-enthusiastic  defense by his colleagues seemed to
reinforce the expectation of a  quick, decisive bout.

The blond joggled Harry's arm to get his attention. When the
Ensign  turned from a chat with Seven, who was on his other
side, Tom asked,  "Harry, doesn't *anyone* still think Chakotay
has a chance? I mean,  yesterday they were all ready for him to
pound the Regent into the carpet."

"What can I tell you, Tom?" The front of Harry's body, brows,
shoulders  and hands, lifted in exasperation. "If the Commander
himself is feeling  uncertain, who are we to disagree?"

"But he's a boxer, a Maquis warrior---heck, he uses bat'leths
for  sparring practice! Shouldn't those things count for
something?"

Harry leaned back to give a quiet yell for the half-Klingon
sitting a  row behind. "Hey Maquis!"

"What!" B'Elanna said, breaking off her chat with Carey.

"Tom wants to know why Chakotay's so rattled by this fight."

B'Elanna leaned forward, bringing their three heads together.
She  seemed to pause a moment before answering. "Because he
thinks he's a little  old to brawl with the schoolyard bully."

"Chakotay's not old!" Tom almost leapt to his feet in defense of
the  Commander.

"Hey, back off, Helmboy. *I* didn't say he was. Chakotay did." 
B'Elanna's eyes shot toward him like sharp brown darts. "What's
it to you,  anyway?"

"Uh, nothing." Tom quickly settled back down and winged it. "I
just  figure if, um, if you call *him* old, I can't be too far
behind."

"Oh please, Tom. There may be four years between you and us, but 
there's nine between you and Chakotay." Harry rolled his eyes.
"You're not a  member of the geriatric brigade yet."

"Yeah, well, I'll keep that in mind." The blond slouched in his
seat,  trying to think of a way to change the subject.

"Whatever." B'Elanna snorted with impatience and began to
straighten.  "I wish they'd get this stupid thing started. It's
noon now."

There was a loud sound much like a gong. The Rutali immediately
fell  silent, and Voyager's crew followed suit. A sense of
excitement and  anticipation filled the air. Milady rose from
her seat and walked to the  center of the "arena," waiting.

The hidden panel opened and Nedal strode forth to murmurs of 
appreciation. His strength and bulk were emphasized by tight
bark-colored  trousers tucked into boots, and a sleeveless vest
that showed off his muscular  plush-covered arms and chest. His
brown gloves were matched with  leather forearm guards that
ended just below the elbow. His seal gleamed as  it lay against
his furred skin. He stood facing Milady, slightly off  center.

The official doorway parted and Chakotay entered to gasps of
surprise.  He was dressed in his Maquis leathers, the snug tan
fabric clinging to  his legs and torso. A long-sleeved, dark
brown shirt flowed down to his  wrists, meeting the gloves in a
single line of color. He swiftly moved  to stand beside Nedal,
completing the triangle of bodies.

***************

"Damn, I forgot just how good he looked as a Maquis rebel."
Kathryn  said without thinking.

"Hmmm...I guess I'd better dust off my own outfit and take a
stroll  around Sandrine's. I'm sure I'll find someone who'd
prefer to take a walk  on the wild side with a leather-clad
*me*." Ken's quiet voice was a  laughing challenge.

The Death Glare made its appearance as Kathryn leaned in to
deliver a  warning. "I catch you anywhere outside my quarters in
those clothes and  I'll have you for breakfast, Mister."

Brown brows rose, unimpressed by the threat and the expression.
"And  that's supposed to be a deterrent?" Said brows waggled
lasciviously as  hazel eyes twinkled.

Kathryn grinned and lightly punched his arm, then they both
sobered and  turned back to watch as Milady raised her hands.

***************

The Rutali's voice was strong, echoing in the hall. "Since the
time of  the Celestials, the ritual of combat has been part of
Rutali life. The  disagreements of prides distilled to a contest
between two fighters,  representatives of each group in
conflict. Hunter's blood flows through  our veins, blood that is
spilled in the pursuit of victory. Winner takes  all, even the
life of the defeated."

Milady lowered her hands and regarded the two men standing
before her,  light and dark. "But this is a new day, one that
blends centuries-old  traditions. For the seals of Larat and
Regent are ever twined, gifts  from the Celestials to their
chosen people. The keeper of the title of  Larat has never been
challenged, until this moment. Chakotay, you have  defied the
sovereign authority of the Regent. Nedal, you have questioned 
the worthiness of this Larat. The combat will decide whose will
is  stronger. So we begin." The men turned to face each other as
the regal  figure glided to her seat. The gong sounded once
more.

***************

Nedal immediately sprang into action, pacing back and forth in
front of  Chakotay, who stood still and simply watched him
approach. Until a  meaty hand swung toward his face. He
immediately raised a forearm to block  it, while his own fist
shot toward the Regent's stomach.

The Rutali countered the move, surprised there was so little
power  behind the blow. He flexed his hands as he withdrew
slightly and felt his  claws push against the leather binding
them. He growled and tried a  sweep kick, which was nimbly
avoided by the human. Nedal kept up his  advance, forcing
Chakotay back step by step. His eyes began to gleam as they 
approached a flickering torch.

The Commander felt the heat radiating nearby. The next blow
shifted to  a push so he ducked and slid to the left, taking a
step away from the  fiery trap. His eyes narrowed and he
acknowledged the failed strategy  with a slight nod. Chakotay
was still playing a purely defensive game,  remembering the
plan. He appeared just good enough to avoid his  opponent's
continual rain of blows, but kept missing the opportunities for 
counterattack by the merest breath.

Nedal became more bold and aggressive, aiming a complex series
of jabs  at the shorter man's head while attacking his lower
body with kicks.  Each move was met by a forearm or shin against
his own. He kept trying to  pierce the gloves each time the two
fighters paused before breaking a  stance and trying another
assault.

Chakotay lifted an arm to stop a double-handed overhead blow and
spun  into the curve of Nedal's exposed body, so his back was to
the Rutali's  front. His free elbow quickly made its way into a
leather-covered  belly, rewarding him with a harsh grunt of pain
bursting from Nedal's lips.  A heartbeat later the Commander
broke completely away, standing in the  center of the room,
waiting.

***************

Tom didn't realize how tightly he was wound until he relaxed a
little  at the sight of space between Chakotay and the looming
alien. He shook  his hands, tingling from being clenched into
anxious fists. The blond  wriggled his shoulders as well, trying
to ease the ache of being  stretched taut. He'd vaguely felt
himself flinching each time the Regent  struck. That Chakotay
had held his own so far was nothing more than expected,  but
something was off with his Titan. /There's definitely more here 
than meets the eye. Chakotay is holding back, I know it. But
why?/

***************

Only the harsh breaths of the fighters and the snap-hiss of the
torches  broke the silence as the Regent approached once more.
He felt the claws  of his right hand break through and quickly
retracted them before  anyone noticed. It would take care and
precision to use this new weapon  against the surprisingly wily
human. He dove in, punching and chopping,  trying to force
Chakotay back against the bulkhead once more.

The Commander held his ground this time, his feet firmly planted
as he  continued to defend himself and land the occasional
strike against the  solid muscle and sinew of his opponent.
Chakotay kept his eyes glued to  Nedal's; he knew something was
up but had no clue where the danger now  lay. They were both
sweaty and winded, for there were no breaks in this  combat.
They closed again.

***************

In the stands, Sisryn watched the battle carefully. She suddenly 
blurted, "I may have neutralized the Regent's claws, but I lamed
the Larat as  well."

"How?" Milady asked, startled at her companion's admission.

"I warned Chakotay that his defeating Nedal could spark a civil
war."  She watched the fighters clinch briefly and part. "The
Commander told me  he wouldn't throw the fight, but now I see he
*is* holding back."

"Maybe not for much longer," Milady said mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" The Chief Consul clutched the other woman's
arm.  "If Chakotay *does* knock out Nedal, we're doomed,"
Sisryn's voice was a  soft wail.

"That's not the only possible ending, my dear. We still have
Rutali law  and tradition to consider. I should know, I stayed
up late enough  researching it."

"Wha---?"

"Enough, Sisryn. The hunter waits in silence for the moment to
strike."

***************

Chakotay never knew what instinct or premonition guided his
actions,  but he freely admitted the stroke of luck saved his
place in the ring,  and possibly more. The men had just finished
another round of thrust and  parry, and Nedal was coming at him
from a new, odd angle, slashing  downward. Perhaps it was the
catlike familiarity of the gesture that  alerted Chakotay on
some unconscious level, but instead of simply leaning his  head
back slightly as he had done to avoid previous swipes, he lifted 
his arm to cover his face.

And immediately gasped from the searing pain. He felt the warmth
of his  own blood trickling onto his sleeve. The Commander
caught the flash of  red-tipped claws out of the corner of his
eye just before they were  re-sheathed. Chakotay felt his temper
finally snap at the Regent's smug  grin. He growled low in his
throat in warning as his body language  changed. The Maquis
veteran relaxed into a slight predatory crouch, his  weight
shifting onto slightly bent knees, one foot moving forward half
a  step as his body turned to present a more narrow target. His
dark eyes  glittered as they reassessed Nedal, marking his
points of weakness in a  lazy trek from ankle to eyebrow.

***************

"Oh shit." B'Elanna sat forward with a groan, realizing all her
efforts  to make Chakotay appear weak and worried had just been
blown away in a  single instant.

"What, B'El," Harry called vaguely, eyes still riveted on the
arena.

"The Mystic Warrior just woke up."

***************

The two men circled each other once more, but this time as
equals,  large golden lion versus sleek dark panther. Chakotay
now moved in a light  glide, all coiled power and hard-won
experience. His body language gave  away no clues as to where
and how he would strike.

Nedal paused in his own attacks, catching his breath and
brushing the  sweat from his brow. He knew they wouldn't last
much longer, they were  both getting tired and that's when
mistakes were made. His eyes narrowed  as he leapt without
warning, again aiming for the human's vulnerable  spots. The
blocks to his moves had weight behind them now, and the 
counterstrikes were designed to disable. He was barely able to
hold his own.  The Regent felt anger surging at this open show
of defiance and the  claws on both hands---one set already
bloodied and the other newly  freed---were poised to rend and
maim in the Rutali way.

Chakotay saw the claws reach out again for his face and decided
he had  enough. He grabbed one meaty wrist and darted behind the
Regent,  pulling the Rutali's left hand toward his right
shoulder. The Commander  reached around swiftly and grabbed the
other wrist, effectively crossing  Nedal's arms and pinning
them. He forced the hands up around the golden  neck, hearing
the claws snick back into the gloves as they came into  contact
with the short fur of the Regent's throat.

The Commander leaned up to pant in the Regent's ear. "One of the
first  rules of combat is that any weapon can be turned against
its owner.  This is just poetic justice for your cheating." He
pulled the crossed arms  tighter around the royal's windpipe,
intending to choke him into  unconsciousness.

As he heard the Regent wheezing, Chakotay happened to glance
toward the  stands. He caught sight of Sisryn's horrified
expression. He suddenly  remembered the price the Rutali would
have to pay for his victory.  /Damn! You are such a soft touch,/
he berated himself as he sighed and  loosened his grip a little,
letting the taller man breathe more easily.

He shoved a knee into the backs of Nedal's legs, causing the
Regent to  sink in reflex. The bronzed hands shifted slightly as
Chakotay prepared  for his next move. Using the Rutali's
shoulders and chest as a  springboard, the older man launched
himself over his opponent, making it look  like Nedal had thrown
him off.

Chakotay landed in a shoulder roll and gracefully rose to his
feet. He  felt blood dripping from the slashes on his arm, but
dismissed the pain  to the back of his mind. Sharp brown eyes
watched Nedal stand as well  and they started circling again.

***************

"Enough!" The volume of the roar from Milady shocked everyone
into  silence and the combatants into immobility. The woman took
advantage,  striding grandly into the ring. She walked up to the
fighters and spoke to  Nedal quietly. "It appears your equipment
has failed you, Regent. This  provides us with an opportunity to
end the match equitably. The Larat  retains his title," her eyes
glowered with intent, "and you keep your own  without
challenge."

"No," Nedal replied, in a growl whose volume was as low as its 
register, "the fight will continue."

"Fair warning, the combat will not *continue*, but begin anew.
This  time with brand new gloves for both parties. So think
carefully before you  toss aside this chance. I won't grant you
another."

Chakotay stayed silent. He suspected that he was a victim of
sabotage,  but there was little he could do to prove it. He
simply waited, like  Milady, for the Regent to decide. He drew
himself up and sent a level  stare to his opponent, trying to
convey his determination to win. Whatever  the cost.

The Regent gritted his teeth and slitted his eyes. He could tell
that  the fighter revealed in the last moments was the true
Chakotay, all  smooth strength and swift strikes. He was,
indeed, a hunter among Voyager's  pride of prey. At the
beginning of their clash the human had been  holding back for
reasons unknown. But those inhibitions had been shredded by  the
Rutali's own claws. Nedal's victory was now not so certain.

The words were bitter with the unfamiliar flavor of defeat, but
he  spoke them. "You are ever wise, Milady. Do what you will."

The woman nodded and her voice rose once more to fill the hall.
"By  Rutali law, when a weapon breaks in a full blood rite the
match is voided  and begins again within three days."

She turned slightly, letting her eyes sweep one bank of seats
and then  the other. "But this is not a battle to the death,
merely a  confirmation of the Larat's right to wear the seal. So
there are new standards for  a new tradition. By the power
vested in me by the Celestials, I declare  the combat concluded
and the challenge satisfied." She smiled and  graciously
indicated Nedal. "The Regent has been generous indeed. He will 
allow the Larat to retain his title without further proof."

***************

The gong sounded again, releasing the audience from their spell.
Rutali  voices were raised in excitement, dissecting the
unexpectedly exciting  match and anticipating the Larat's
arrival on Ruta as they began filing  out of the room. Nedal
threw Chakotay one last glare and disappeared,  alone, into the
hidden passageway.

The Voyager crew flowed down from the stands. They swirled
around  Chakotay, congratulating him on the bout. Until the
Doctor waved his medkit  and announced, "Unless you'd like to
have the Commander continue  bleeding onto the carpet, you'll
leave and let me get to my work."

Echoes of good-natured grumbles remained behind a moment as the
crowd  dissipated, leaving the Captain, the Doctor and Tom with
Chakotay. The  EMH promptly flipped open his tricorder and began
scanning. "These are  fairly deep but should be quickly taken
care of with a level 3  regeneration. Not much blood lost, vital
signs are good...." Suddenly the  Doctor's eyebrows rose in
shock at his readings. He turned a startled glance  on his
patient. "Commander, there are indications of---"

"---of the necessity of your leaving your field medic to finish
this  job." The Captain snatched the tricorder and medkit from
the hologram's  hands and gave them to a surprised Tom. He
immediately caught on and  unbuttoned the ripped and bloodied
sleeve as he began cleaning and closing  Chakotay's wounds.

Kathryn nodded, then turned back to her ship's doctor. Her voice 
reflected the gravity of the situation. "So now you know the
nature of the  'gift' that's being offered to the Regent. I am
ordering you, and asking  you, to keep this to yourself and out
of the official records. Anything  you saw here, stays here."
Her expression softened. "Please."

The EMH took a few moments to reflect on how much damage rumors
would  inflict on his patient---and friend---if word leaked out.
"Of course.  Doctor-patient confidentiality clearly applies." He
looked at Chakotay.  "Rest assured, Commander, that no
information about  your...'preparations'...will be forthcoming
from me. I'll respect your privacy."

"Thanks, Doc. I appreciate your discretion." Chakotay gave him a
smile  and nod of thanks as the EMH and the Captain left to
return to the  ship.

Tom was just finishing up, admiring the restored sheen of the
coppery  skin. He stroked a finger along the area a moment,
unable to resist  confirming that the damage was fully repaired.
"Any pain?"

"No. You do nice work."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have needed to if you'd just done as I
asked.  Remember, *you* weren't supposed to get hurt."

"That was my fault, I'm afraid." Sisryn hastened to Chakotay's
side and  laid a hand on his healed arm. "I'm so very sorry,
Chakotay. I was sure  the gloves would be enough---"

"Don't worry about it." The reassurance was delivered with a
fond  smile. "You did the best you could. Tests in a peaceful
environment don't  take into account the rush of adrenaline."

"Maybe. But I also think I need to keep a closer eye on things
next  time." It would be disloyal for Sisryn to voice her
suspicions, so she  simply left the statement hang in the air a
moment without elaborating.  Then she hastily retrieved her hand
and bowed. "Congratulations on the  outcome." Her voice lowered.
"And thank you for what you did. I saw the  restraint in your
fighting; Nedal's reputation is intact."

Chakotay simply nodded. "What happens now?" he asked.

"Well for one thing, I go back to the lab with these gloves."
She  waited while Chakotay pulled off his pair and handed them
over. "I'd like to  see if we can institute non-lethal bouts for
other disputes."

"I wish you luck, Sisryn. It's a noble endeavor," Chakotay said.

"Thank you. As for you, there will be no more challenges. *You*
are the  Larat for your people. Tomorrow I'll send information
for the final  arrangements, and the day after that we'll be on
Ruta." She touched  Chakotay once more. "See you then." She
smiled and nodded at Tom, then moved  to a small knot of Rutali
flagship crewmen to ensure the reception hall  was returned to
its usual appearance.

Tom was about to open his mouth to speak when another voice
intruded.

"Well done, Larat. You held your own, as I suspected you would."
Milady  approached the night-haired human and Nedal's now-lost
golden one,  noting the way their bodies had moved, closer in
intimacy, then jerked back  subtly to re-establish proper
boundaries as they registered her  presence. /No wonder the
Regent is so very angry with the Larat. His  imagination must be
running wild, picturing these two together./

She flicked a curious glance up and down the pilot's lanky form,
then  turned to address the man wearing the glittering Rutali
seal. "I give  you fair warning, Larat. The Regent will be as
harsh a judge as he was  fierce a competitor. You'd best be
prepared for all that will be expected  of you." With a last
speaking look and quick squeeze of a broad  shoulder she left.

"What did that mean?" Tom asked, not liking the ominous tone.

"It means we have to stop playing games and face reality."
Chakotay  regarded his companion solemnly. "It means you have to
decide whether you  can handle the intensity of what I need you
to do to help me."

Now Tom was getting really nervous. "And what is that?"

Chakotay sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Ironically,
the  opposite of what you did yesterday. I think Milady has been
told or figured  out that you're the one who's been helping me.
And that our  relationship is...rather personal. So she was
reminding me that Nedal *isn't* you.  He's not going to be
concerned with my comfort, or pleasure. He'll  slake his
passions as he wills and I have to...accommodate him as best I 
can."

Chakotay restlessly took a few steps, then those serious brown
eyes  were searching anxious counterparts. "Are you capable of
that, Tom? Of  finishing out the book's remaining chapters with
no thought save your own  fulfillment?" His face softened. "If
you're not, I understand. You're a  very caring person. We could
just part company now."

Tom's brows furrowed as he considered his answer. It *was*
ironic:  right after he proved that he was attracted to
Chakotay, the person, he now  had to treat the man as purely an
object of lust. Passion without real  connection.

It shouldn't be that hard a decision. This was what he signed on
for,  fucking without complications or commitments. But...could
he spend his  lust on his Titan and not get drawn into the
passionate man's flame? Or  maybe that didn't matter...Tom could
be affected, he simply couldn't  *show* it. And since he'd
already hidden so much during this brief  affair, one more
evasion shouldn't make any difference.

"Yes," Tom said, lifting his head and returning the waiting
stare,  "with a few conditions."

"Name them."

"First, I refuse to fuck *anyone* without prep, so you'll have
to do  that yourself. Do you think you can?" Tom was powerless
to prevent the  diversion of blood to his nether regions as he
imagined a naked Chakotay  reaching around to stretch his own
ass, slick bronzed fingers parting  perfect full globes....

"Yes, I'll figure it out." /It's probably something I'll need to
know  anyway. Nedal doesn't seem like he's much into foreplay./

"You'll also have to insert a plug of some kind, to keep you
open and  ready for me." Tom shivered with the fantasies *that*
idea generated.  /Jumping my Titan in a corridor, dragging him
to an empty storeroom for a  hard, fast fuck on the way to the
bridge...oh yeah.../ He shook himself  back to reality when the
velvet voice caught his attention.

"I'm going to be wearing one of the Larat outfits. It will be
real, not  holographic, so go easy on the clothes, okay?"
Chakotay added more time  to his mental estimates when he
recalled that he needed to practice how  to put the darn thing
on, and keep it on while in motion.

"All right. Also make sure to have all of the remaining toys
ready. As  you suspected, they'll help me with
my...objectivity." Tom was glad he  had the day off; with his
mind on the remaining chapters in the Rutali  book he was pretty
sure there weren't enough unengaged brain cells to  fly the ship
this afternoon.

"We'll also be in the Regent's suite. It's set up a little
differently.  I'll see you at 2000 hours, then?"

"No, 1900." /Actually, I'm ready to go right now./

"1900. But not a moment before." Chakotay flashed his own
warning  before laying a hand lightly on a slender shoulder.
"And thanks."

"Yeah." Tom wasn't all that coherent anymore. He felt the warmth 
seeping through the cloth barrier and seriously considered
jumping Chakotay  in the hallway. Then he took a deep breath and
found some small bit of  calm in the storm of anticipation.
"Until tonight."

Tom barely refrained from licking his lips as he watched that
snug  leather-clad ass lead the way to the departure chamber.
/250 minutes to go,  and counting./

TBC