SMALL SACRIFICES

Title: Small Sacrifices, 4/5 
Author: Jaye (Copyright April 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 has m/m sex and implied violence.
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 to: 
Reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: The real reason Devore Inspector Kashyk didn't arrest 
Voyager's telepaths at the end of "Counterpoint."

Note: I'll admit I don't recall the episode too clearly, but I
wondered  how Voyager was able to leave Devore space without
being stopped for  hiding their *own* telepaths. Kashyk met
Tuvok, and probably the others,  while he was seeking asylum on
the ship. Even if he lost the shuttles  full of refugees,
wouldn't he have tried to save face by bringing in  Voyager? Why
was Voyager just able to go merrily on its way?

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

PART FOUR

PRIVATE LOG OF LT. B'ELANNA TORRES, FEDERATION STARSHIP VOYAGER

/Kahless, I hate these things. What goes on in my life is my
business.  I don't see why I should record thoughts that may end
up in the hands  of some nosy p'tahk of a 'Fleet Admiral who
couldn't find a clue if I  shoved it up his---/

/Hmph. But I *am* trying to make some sense of Tom and me. And
now, me  alone. Chakotay said this might help give me some
perspective. So here  goes./

/I knew Tom liked men. Our rooms on the Liberty---closer to
closets  than cabins---weren't that far apart, so I saw the
parade of young bucks  traveling in and out of Paris's revolving
door. When we were in space,  he hooked up with a few members of
the crew who liked his looks enough  to overlook his past. In
dock, he sometimes disappeared for hours or  even overnight,
since Chakotay kept the ship locked down pretty tight 
planetside./

/In any case, Tom Paris was definitely a man's man. When we met
up  again on Voyager, I was kind of shocked to see him chasing
skirts. I  wondered why, but never had the guts to ask. If the
reason was what I  thought, I really didn't want to know. But
the suspicion was enough for me to  cut the guy some slack./

/Harry and I were the only real friends Tom had at first. He had 
enemies aplenty, but Chakotay stepped in to deal with them. I
think we were  all a bit surprised when he took that "life debt"
business seriously.  People found out pretty quickly, and
painfully, to keep their hands off  Tom Paris./

/Then Tom started working that Flyboy charm. On the Delaney
sisters,  Sue Nicoletti, a couple of aliens. All women. He got
quite a rep. The  'Fleet crew gradually warmed up to him. And
after he'd pulled Voyager's  collective ass out of the fire a
few times, the Maquis started to come  around too./

/After some time being trusted, being liked, Tom began to
change. He  was still witty, but not so sharp. He let his soft
underbelly show every  once in a while. And he turned those baby
blues on me./

/I *knew* Tom liked men. But, he was so sweet. Wooing. Teasing. 
Flirting. And for years he had been with women exclusively.
Somewhere along  the line I began to ask myself if he could be
more than a friend. And  when I thought we were dead for sure, I
told him I loved him./

/We kind of fell into bed and into a relationship. The sex was
great,  but...after a while I began to wonder. If what we had
was really love,  or just lovemaking./

/He and I always had to *do*; we could never just *be*. We were
always  in motion, on duty, off duty. If we ever sat down to
talk, it was in  the Mess Hall with Harry sharing our space or
Neelix invading it.  Otherwise it was go to the holodeck to try
a new program or to Sandrine's to  shoot some pool or to the gym
to work out or to one of our cabins to hit  the sheets---*if* we
made it that far. The only calm we seemed to share  came after
our storms of passion. And, occasionally, of anger./

/Despite all that we were...comfortable. We had a built-in
friend,  companion, and bedmate. Being with each other kept the
loneliness at bay.  But it also kept us from having more in our
lives. He never told me he  loved me, and I never said the words
to him after that one time. Still,  who knows how long we would
have raced along going nowhere together if  we hadn't hit Devore
space./

/Talk about a mood-killer. The thought of that smiling white rat
Kashyk  walking through the door in the middle of---well, let's
just say it was  hands off for the duration. In fact, pretty
much everything was off:  the holodeck, Sandrine's. Things were
just too tense. And Tom and I, it  seemed, coped better alone
than with each other./

/When we finally left Kashyk's stalking ground I figured Tom and
I  would be back together in a snap. I wasn't even sure how I
felt about it,  but that's what I expected. It never happened.
He started forgetting to  spend time with me, or didn't notice
that he was *with* me. And I  stopped wanting to spend time with
him./

/Tom came to me then, his words tumbling over each other. My
gallant,  tarnished knight, so anxious not to hurt me. He
admitted that I could  never have all of his heart. The very
core of him craved masculine  angles, not feminine curves. Tom
had just let himself forget; it made life  easier. And he
pretended so well that he even convinced himself he could  be
happy with less./

/But no longer. I think we surprised ourselves with how easy it
was to  say good-bye to the idea of being lovers. Maybe we were
ready to part  ways, or knew that the ending was inevitable.
We're still friends. I'm  sure we always will be./

/Our breakup sent me to the door of another friend, Chakotay.
When Tom  and I first got together, I asked my former Captain
his opinion. I was  geared up for a fight, ready to defend my
new lover to my old comrade.  But Chakotay wouldn't spar with
me. Instead, he asked me how I felt.  And he listened, the way
he always does, to the words and the message  behind the words.
When I finished speaking he just smiled at me, kissed my 
forehead very softly and told me Tom Paris was a lucky man./

/Chakotay loves me like a sister. So I had to let him know about
the  end of the affair myself, to make sure he didn't do the
brotherly thing  and rush out to defend my honor. By knocking
Tom right out of the Delta  Quadrant. So I told him, full of
awkward half-explanations that  preserved Tom's privacy. I ended
by reminding Chakotay that I could knock  sense into Tom all by
myself, if I thought the situation called for it.  Which it
didn't. Chakotay left Tom alone./

/Now I notice that Tom isn't leaving *him* alone. I should have 
guessed. Tom likes men, and Chakotay is the best man either one
of us has ever  known. I can't even be angry at my ex; if there
had ever been the  slightest sign from the Mystic Warrior I
would have claimed him for myself  in a heartbeat./

/But I never had a chance. I wonder if Tom does. Chakotay has
been so  long alone. He has not been lucky in love these last
few years. That  scheming snake Seska. The Borg bitch Riley.
And, of course, the Captain. I  still haven't figured out
whether she didn't know, or just didn't care  about his
feelings. Either way after all this time she no longer  deserves
him./

/I've never seen Chakotay look at another man. Then again, I
never  really saw him looking at women, either. Even with
Janeway he played it  pretty close to the vest. He's always been
that way, still waters and  all./

/A few times I've seen Chakotay's calm surface disturbed, even
roiling  with fury. When we'd plan raids on Cardassian prisons
and get our first  look at what those bastards did to the old,
the young, women, children.  Then the Maquis warrior would
descend like a tsunami over the enemy's  camp, wreaking havoc
and destruction on those who would do such harm to  innocents.
Voyager's crew should thank their gods Chakotay chose to  reach
out to them as friends, for they would not have survived long as
his  enemies./

/But life is different here. He is different. The anger has
abated,  leaving true serenity. Chakotay's compassion, that
quiet, soul-deep  concern for those under his care, pours onto
us like rain, soaking in to  nurture and sustain. And it's about
damn time somebody noticed and returned  to the man even a
little of what he's always given so freely./

/Does Tom have what it takes to win Chakotay's love? He
certainly wants  to try. Now that I know who Tom's looking for
it's easy to catch him  sweeping a room until he sees a flash of
red and black or that too-sexy  tattoo. Most of the time he sits
and waits, keeping watch but not making  the first move. He
lights up, though, when Chakotay comes to him in the  Mess Hall
or Sandrine's or even on the bridge. They share a few words,  or
a short silence, and Tom just glows. In a way he never did when
he  was with me./

/I should be jealous. Of both of them. But instead I am filled
with  hope./

/I don't know how much help this has been, but I am clear on one
thing.  I *want* Chakotay and Tom to be together. Because I
think they will  prove to me that true love isn't just a dream.
And if they can find it, so  can I./

END LOG

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

Chakotay hesitantly stepped onto the holodeck. His boxing
program was  already running.

He was here to beat up Kashyk. At least, a hologram of Kashyk.
In a  way, it was all Tom's idea. The younger man had mentioned
his unique spin  on therapy years ago, when he had come to
Chakotay for off-the-record  counseling. Chakotay figured it
couldn't hurt to try it; after all, Tom  had been right about
the teddy bear.

Chakotay sighed at the thought of Tom. It had been a week since
their  encounter on the beach. Tom had surprised him by finally
keeping his  distance as Chakotay asked. Still, those blue eyes
locked on him like a  target when he entered a room. He could
feel them waiting, beckoning,  even when he wasn't looking in
their direction.

Far too often Chakotay succumbed to their silent call. He would
be  irresistibly drawn to wherever Tom was, to sit together for
a time, in  conversation or a comfortable quiet. He always made
sure they were in  public, and never stayed too long. He was
doing his best to keep things on  the level of friends. But he
couldn't help being warmed by Tom's  unwavering concern and
continued support.

The older man had slowly let the fog dissipate. Small feelings
came  through first. Annoyance when Neelix wielded too heavy a
hand with the  spices; delight when Naomi presented him with a
new drawing; satisfaction  when the paperwork was finally
finished for the day.

But the emotions he should be feeling in the wake of his trauma
were as  yet beyond his grasp. It was as if the last piece of
his emotional  security blanket had turned into a shroud. Until
he could find a way to  throw it off, the aspects of his spirit
it covered would remain buried.

Chakotay wondered if the nightmares were part of this last
barrier, or  a result of it. With Alfred's comforting presence
he was managing to  ride out the vivid nightly re-creation of
his experiences with Kashyk.  But there was no decrease in the
frequency or intensity of the dreams.  And every morning the
memories seemed as fresh as if he'd just left  Sickbay.

He tried different methods to achieve a waking closure, both 
conventional and not. Nothing worked. Whenever he tried to
logically examine what  happened, the images and reactions
flooded him. He drowned in them. And  when they finally receded
he was left shaking and sure he would never  be truly healed.

"How's it going, son?"

Chakotay jumped at Boothby's greeting, then berated himself for
being  startled by the wizened old man. "Hello, Boothby."

Starfleet Academy's gardener---and Chakotay's boxing
coach---nodded and  noted that his question remained unanswered.
"Here for a couple rounds  with the Terellian?"

"No, I have a different opponent in mind," he replied awkwardly.
"It's  a special match." He didn't like the gleam in Boothby's
eyes; he was  beginning to regret leaving the holographic
character active.

"Well, that certainly sounds interesting." Boothby gestured to
the  ring. "Call him up, let's see the fellow before you get
ready for the  bout."

"All right." Chakotay ran damp palms down the sides of his
sweats, then  cleared his throat. "Computer, simulate Devore
Inspector Kashyk based  on surveillance images and sensor
readings."

An image of Kashyk appeared, features bland and dressed in his 
traditional garb. Chakotay stared at the figure in silence,
while Boothby  walked around the ring.

"I don't know, son, he doesn't look like he's in your class,"
the older  man mused, keeping one eye on his tense protégé.

"That isn't important." Chakotay's voice was tight as he
struggled to  control his breathing. He opened his clenched
hands and moved to the  edge of the ring.

"Whoa, there, wait a minute. Let's get some gloves on you."
Boothby  reached out a hand to Chakotay. His eyes narrowed when
he saw the big man  flinch. "What, exactly, is going on
here?---And don't you even *think*  about turning me off."

Chakotay gritted his teeth and swung between the ropes to enter
the  ring. "Payback. I won't need the gloves. This isn't going
to be a fair  fight."

"That doesn't sound like you, Chakotay. Are you sure this is
what you  want to do?" Boothby's brow wrinkled in concern.

"No. But I have to do something. I can't take this anymore." He
strode  up to the hologram standing in the middle of the mat.
"Computer,  incorporate all database information on Kashyk into
the hologram's  personality matrix."

"Download complete."

"Animate hologram."

The pseudo-Kashyk came to life with a delighted smile.
"Commander---"

"Computer, freeze simulation." Chakotay shook his head. Of
course the  hologram would be *pleasant*. The man's true nature
never made it into  the official logs. As far as they were
concerned he was duplicitous and  rather sinister, but charming.

"I suppose you could just gag him."

Chakotay rounded on the old man, who had clambered up on the
platform  to lean against a post. "You don't have to stay," he
hissed.

"Of course I do, son." Boothby's expression had softened along
with his  tone. "It's pretty obvious something's upset you. Why
don't you tell me  about it."

"I don't want to discuss it. I just want to get this over with." 
Chakotay's breathing had quickened; he was starting to feel
overwhelmed. He  swiftly turned back to the frozen figure.
"Computer, make simulation  visual only. Resume animation."

As soon as Kashyk blinked Chakotay walloped him, delivering a
quick  series of blows and jabs. After a moment or two he
stopped and dropped his  hands to his sides. "Computer, delete
Kashyk."

His shoulders slumped. His voice was a defeated whisper. "It's
not  going to work. I *chose* not to fight him. I don't want
revenge. I want  peace." He dropped to the mat, his head in his
hands.

Boothby quickly made his way over to Chakotay, careful not to
touch  him. "What happened to you?" His voice was sharp with
anxiety. "Please  talk to me, son."

Chakotay just shook his head.

Boothby settled himself, joints creaking, on the mat in front of 
Chakotay. "You know," he said reflectively, "I've been a
gardener for a long  time. People assume that's all I ever was,
or am. Just somebody who  plays in the dirt. They forget that
I'm also a man, and I've seen my share  of troubles. And lived
them."

Chakotay looked up at the replica of his mentor and friend. "I'm
sorry.  You're right, it's easy to forget." He sighed and rose,
and gave the  old man a hand up. "You might want to get
comfortable."

"At my age, 'comfortable' is relative," Boothby grumbled 
good-naturedly, but went back to lean on the ropes. Then he
waited, watching Chakotay  pace the confines of the ring.

"Voyager was forced to travel through the territory of a people
called  the Devore. They had such a great fear of telepaths that
a branch of  their government actually hunted them. The man you
saw, Kashyk, was an  Inspector in charge of those hunters. At
first we hid our telepaths, as  well as some refugees who
crossed our path."

Chakotay ran his hand along the rope as he walked. "Eventually,
Kashyk  came aboard requesting asylum. We all thought it was a
trap. The  Captain had a plan that would save the refugees, but
didn't realize it left  our own people vulnerable. I came up
with a way to keep Kashyk quiet  about the crew."

He stopped, watching his hand run slowly back and forth along
the rope.  "I went to his cabin one night to make him an offer.
From his records,  I suspected Kashyk enjoyed...hurting...the
people under him. So I told  him that if he gave Voyager---and
everyone aboard her---clear sailing  out of Devore space, he
could do whatever he wanted to me, until we left  his territory.
And no one would know."

Boothby had gone still, hardly breathing, not wanting any noise
or  motion to stop the flow of words.

Chakotay continued, "His pleasure came from subjugating others,
forcing  them to his will. But his wife, his aides, his
prisoners, they were  weak. They *couldn't* stand up to him."

He looked at Boothby. "But I could, if I chose to. I was a lot
stronger  than him. I figured he wouldn't be able to resist the
temptation. If  Kashyk agreed to my terms he would have the
opportunity to command me."  He looked away and his voice
dropped. "To break me."

"And he agreed," Boothby said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. And he used me to his pleasure, and my pain." Chakotay
started  moving again. "But he wasn't aware that the only reason
I had gone to him  was to get a sample of DNA," he swallowed,
"the only way I could."

He rubbed his wrists. "Unfortunately, we couldn't use the
materials I  collected. They were too contaminated. So I went to
Kashyk again. He  thought I was simply fulfilling the terms of
our agreement."

Chakotay stopped again. "The second night...he took things even 
further. And worse, he got into my head, my mind. Kashyk turned
out to have  some kind of telepathic power himself." He sighed.
"But I got through it.  After we had untainted proof of the
Inspector's abilities, we  blackmailed him to keep him quiet.
Finally he left."

"And now you're trying to find your way back," Boothby quietly 
surmised.

"Yes. I've had some help and I thought I was getting better,
but...I  can't seem to let the memories go. I keep dreaming
about it, over and  over. And every time I try to think about
the experience, get some  distance from it, I start reliving it
again. The feelings are so overwhelming  I can't fight them."

"Like an undertow," Boothby said, thinking aloud.

"What?"

"An undertow, they used to warn swimmers about them. When a wave 
crashes into the shore, an undertow pulls the water back out to
sea. You  can't fight it; if you try you just wear yourself out
and get sucked  under."

"So what can you do?" Chakotay had crossed the mat to peer into
the  wise old eyes.

"You surrender to it, Chakotay, and let it carry you where it
will."  Boothby tilted his head, pondering. "Or you go at it
sideways. You can't  fight the undertow directly, but if you
move on a diagonal you can beat  it, make it back to shore."

"I don't understand, Boothby. How does this help me?"

"You said that this man---this Kashyk---had some kind of
telepathic  abilities himself, right?"

"Yes."

"And he used them while he was hurting you." Boothby held out
his  hands. "Don't you see, son, he wants to *keep* hurting you.
It's the only  way he could win."

The old man swiped a knuckle under his nose, considering. "It's
like he  set your memories in a loop, so you'd never forget your
experience---or  him. And every time you try to interfere with
that mental programming,  it strikes back by making it all crash
down on you at once."

Chakotay moved, his quick steps beating a tattoo of frustration.
"But  even if that's true, how do I break the cycle? *How* can I
come at it  sideways?"

"There's only one way I see, but it won't be easy. You have to
go  through the experience again. But this time, with someone
you trust...?"  Boothby's voice rose hopefully.

Chakotay looked at him in horror. "I can't ask Tom to do that."

"Why not?"

Chakotay was insistent. "Because I love him. I've been trying to 
protect him from all this. He's a good, good man, who has
experienced too  much darkness in his own life."

"But he wants to help you, yes?" Boothby caught the shift of
upset  brown eyes. "He loves you too, doesn't he?"

"He says he does. But he shouldn't have to prove it this way."
The soft  voice was forlorn. "I wanted to be able to do this on
my own."

Boothby's serious tone drew the younger man's attention.
"Chakotay,  even when you were a cadet I knew you were one of
the strongest men I'd  ever met. And I don't mean physically."
He leaned forward. "And sometimes  the greatest test of strength
is whether you can lift your hand, and  hold it out, asking for
help."

Boothby regarded the silent man a moment, then lowered himself
to the  floor. He crossed to the door to the locker rooms, then
turned and said,  "I don't know him, but Kashyk probably counted
on you being alone.  Because he couldn't imagine your trust, or
anyone's love, to be more  powerful than his brutality. Only you
can decide if he was right." He exited.

Chakotay stood alone in the boxing ring.

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

Tom Paris walked into his cabin, unzipping his jacket to toss it
on the  back of a chair. He flopped onto the couch and wondered
what Chakotay  was doing.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, to stay away from the
Big  Man. Tom wanted to *know*. How Chak was feeling, what he
was thinking, if  things were getting better. He wanted to help.
But all he could do was  sit and wait.

At least there was hope. It seemed Tom wasn't the only one aware
of the  pull of their connection. Chakotay seemed to sense his
need for  reassurance, and would spend small blocks of time with
him. Being together  soothed Tom's spirit. He'd never been so
content just to sit and bask in  the presence of another person.

He also noticed Chakotay's reactions becoming more real, more
himself.  He'd even caught glimpses of genuine amusement in
those dark eyes, like  the silver flash of a fish rising for an
instant to the surface of a  lake.

Tom's reverie was interrupted by the chime of his door. "Enter,"
he  called, standing.

He was completely shocked to see the object of his thoughts walk
in. A  dozen emotions, and questions, rushed into his mind at
once, but he  limited himself to, "Hey Chak."

Chakotay gave a small smile in response to his new moniker. "Hey 
yourself, hotshot," he replied softly.

"Hotshot?" Tom was puzzled, but pleased. Chakotay wanted a name
for Tom  that was all his own. It was a good sign.

"Yes. Bold, brave, try-anything, all-or-nothing,
lead-with-your-heart,  hotshot." Chakotay fell silent, his brief
good mood evaporating. "Can  we talk a minute?"

"Of course." Tom looked at his clearly uneasy visitor. "Do you
want to  sit down?"

"No, no, but please---" he gestured, and Tom nodded and took his 
earlier seat. "What is it, Chakotay?"

Chakotay felt the urge to pace again, but resisted. He was
through  running away from this man. He nervously rubbed his
hands together a  moment, then looked straight at Tom. "This
isn't the way I wanted things to  be. I wanted to be whole and
healed when I came to you. To tell you I  love you."

Tom's joy was tempered by the anguish he could see in the deep
brown  eyes. "And I love you. So nothing else you say will make
any difference."

Chakotay's brows drew together in concern. "Please believe me,
Tom,  that I mean it. I *do* love you. For yourself, not as
someone to hide  behind so I don't need to face my fears."

Tom gave the older man a tender smile. "You were the only one
who ever  worried about that, Chak."

Chakotay nodded, reassured, and took a deep breath. "I went to
the  holodeck today. I thought if I could hurt an image of
Kashyk, maybe it  would help me deal with what happened with the
real man."

"It didn't?"

"No, but I talked to Boothby. He thinks---he thinks that Kashyk
did  something to my mind that is causing the nightmares. That
Kashyk didn't  want me to forget that..." Chakotay dropped his
eyes, "that he broke me."

"No!" Tom leaped up, insistent and intense. "He hurt you,
Chakotay,  deeply. And he's still hurting you. But trust me,
Kashyk *didn't* break  you. He never even came close."

Chakotay looked into blue pools blazing with conviction; tried
to see  himself through Tom's eyes. "Maybe," he said softly. He
hesitated, then  walked to sit next to Tom as the blond sank
down again.

"Maybe you're right," he repeated. "But even so, Kashyk still
has a  hold on me. I can't seem to...feel what I must to put the
experience in  the past. Every time I try it gets to be too
much."

"Please, Chak, tell me how I can help you." Tom yearned to put
his arms  around the older man, but settled for laying his hand,
palm up, between  them.

"To break the cycle of my memories, my nightmares, I want...I
would  like you to...make love with me." Chakotay was looking at
that open,  offered hand, then at his own, shaking and clenched
with tension. "To go  through the motions of what Kashyk did,
and what he had me do, but with a  fundamental difference." He
looked into Tom's eyes. "This time, it will  be about love and
desire. Not power, and pain."

Tom was stunned to silence. He'd read the report, knew what
Chakotay  was asking. That Chakotay would be willing to take
such a risk, to trust  himself to Tom so completely, was
uplifting and humbling. Tom marveled  again that this man could
ever think of himself as broken. He looked at  Chakotay, his
eyes calm and clear. "Yes."

"It's not going to be easy, or pretty." Chakotay said, then
opened his  hands, suddenly assailed by doubts. "It's probably
too much to ask, so  soon---"

"No, it's not too much to ask, I swear," Tom shushed him. Then
his  expression turned serious, anxious. "But there is one thing
I have to know,  Chak. If this doesn't work, what happens to
us?"

"I'll wait a day or two and try again, or think of something
else. But  what I won't do is give up, or push you away again."
He reached out to  clasp that slim hand as he vowed, "We'll
figure it out together...as  long as you're willing."

"Then there's no problem. 'Cause this," Tom said, eyes glowing
as he  lifted their joined hands, "is forever."

"Forever," Chakotay echoed, "starting tonight." It was a
promise, and a  prayer.

TBC