STRONG MEDICINE

Title: Strong Medicine, 1/2
Author: Jaye (Copyright September 2003)
Codes: VOY P/T, C/Tu, C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for 
adult themes, language, sex and mild BDSM. 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: The consequences of Tom and B'Elanna's relationship.

Note: Angst. These characters are more flawed and gritty than usual. Set the 
evening after the last scene of "Scientific Method". Inspired by the question of 
why B'Elanna would stay with Tom when, in canon, they didn't really seem to be 
"together" until B'Elanna's pregnancy. (That is, Tom often ignored her in favor 
of other pursuits, and B'Elanna didn't seem to mind all that much.) Started out 
as a C/Tu a few months ago, but strangely enough circled back to C/P.

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

PART ONE

When did he start hating spaghetti? The limp pale strands on the plain dark 
plate were an unappetizing lump, impossibly tangled by his attempts to make it 
look like he'd eaten more than he had. 'Cause he wasn't about to swallow one 
more bite.

Maybe pasta wasn't really his problem.

Tom stared at his half-eaten meal. What a waste of good replicator rations. As a 
medic he could easily diagnose his condition. Nausea, specifically a stomach-
flopping unease brought on by unsettled thoughts. Therefore psychosomatic and 
thus untreatable. Prognosis: not good. His stomach gave another internal clench 
that made him catch his breath. In some odd little quirk of irony, it was about 
the only part of him that seemed alive at the moment.

A vague malaise had settled over him like a coating of dust, dry and musty, 
dulling the senses. Everything had gone gray, not just the bulkheads.

It felt like detox, that horrible phase of stumbling and fumbling in a funk of 
uncaring. Before the cure took hold and you showered away the stink of the drink 
or drug, before you shaved and brushed your teeth and washed your hair and 
declared yourself one of the shiny happy people.

In a way, that's exactly what this *was*. A kind of cold-turkey cut-off from a 
natural high.

He was coming down from the haze of hormones in his system---courtesy of some 
Srivani's twisted idea of a science-fair project---and it made him sick.

So did the utter fucking screw-up he'd made of things.

Tom looked up at his dining companion, his dark-haired, dark-eyed, tawny-skinned 
lover, and hoped his face didn't betray the horror he felt.

After all, B'Elanna didn't deserve to be humiliated just because Tom didn't love 
her.

The way she, by her own admission, loved him.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that at the time they jumped into bed 
together, Tom already *had* a dark-haired, dark-eyed, tawny-skinned lover.

Chakotay.

Tom's stomach heaved as the enormity of the betrayal once more made itself 
known. He stared at his hands, those hands that had caressed along and over and 
into B'Elanna's body so many times in the last few weeks. He hastily grabbed a 
glass and gulped wine, hoping the sharp flavor would knock his thoughts out of 
their horrified spiral.

B'Elanna looked at him, puzzlement probably on her face. But his guilt warped 
the expression into narrow-eyed accusation. As if she could see the turmoil of 
his soul. Instinct kicked in---defend, distract. Quick smile, a plastered-on air 
of reassurance that was so far from reality it was almost laughable. But he 
didn't risk making a sound.

Because it would flatten under the weight of bitterness, and warp at the edges 
with the fingernail-scrape keen of hysteria. In any case, the trademark Flyboy 
grin did the trick and she responded with a smile of her own.

Relief stilled the rumbling in his guts at the unaccustomed lack of lust in that 
glance. Maybe the end of the Srivani's manipulations had cooled her passions as 
well.

It would make dumping her a whole lot easier. But he was going to feel like an 
absolute heel anyway, when he got around to actually feeling again.

Because B'Elanna really was innocent in all this. *He* had insisted that 
Chakotay not say anything about their getting together. And sure as hell he 
hadn't told anyone. Private and low-key was the way to go. Why deal with the 
crew's reaction on top of all the other shit he and Chakotay had to work out?

Of course, everything had now blown up in his face. And, brutal, bitter honesty 
made him admit he was the one who set things off.

B'Elanna hadn't *wanted* to get involved with him. She had been perfectly 
willing to walk away and forget about her "deathbed confession"---delivered 
without a bed---when she told Tom she loved him as they gasped out their last 
breaths in EV suits floating in space, alone and hopeless.

But resisting the pull between them had been unacceptable, unthinkable. He had 
pursued B'Elanna aggressively, haunting her, hunting her. Wanting her and 
determined to claim her. Visceral, animal need raged to mark her with his touch, 
his scent, his seed.

Chakotay had completely slipped from his mind. All he knew was B'Elanna: fire in 
the brain and in the blood until he *had* to have her.

And she had given in, sparking a torrid affair. Animal sex---abrupt, raw, 
incendiary. Trying to consume one another, live in each other's skins, desperate 
for physical connection. And no wonder, with those alien experiments keeping 
them in a biochemical frenzy.

So now Tom had B'Elanna. But with the Srivani influence gone from his body and 
mind, he no longer wanted her.

He wanted Chakotay. Strong body clad in soft bronze skin, dark eyes that shone 
with such a light, just for him. His body craved a touch surprisingly gentle 
from hands that had long ago proved their ruthless power to kill. Yearned for a 
tender, tender embrace that was more of a home than Earth had ever been.

And Tom felt another kind of compulsion: to reach out, to comfort, to cherish in 
return. To help Chakotay deal with that too-close brush with death those damn 
bastards had put him through when they aged him almost to the limit of his 
lifespan. How had Chakotay, turned old and feeble overnight, handled it all 
alone?

Which sparked an even more interesting question. Why *hadn't* Chakotay said or 
done anything to reclaim Tom weeks ago? He had to have known something was up 
when Tom suddenly disappeared from his life. And even the most ignorant bliss 
would have been dispelled by the gossip about Tom and B'Elanna. The news 
whispered all over the ship after the Captain's smackdown for their little on-
duty lustfest.

Determination rippled through him, shaking off some of the brain-dust. He had to 
find Chakotay, make things right again. He wanted his life back the way it was. 
The way he feared it would never be again.

But he also didn't want to hurt B'Elanna.

Damn the fucking Srivani and their meddling. He fought the overwhelming urge to 
put his head in his hands and groan. His entire life had been turned to shit in 
less than a month, and Tom had no idea how to start cleaning up the mess.

Except Chakotay was priority number one.

"Hey, B'El, I'm sorry to eat and run, but I've got something to do this 
evening." Glib tone to match the carefree expression hastily pasted on as he 
stood. Hating himself for not giving her some clue of the heartbreak to come, 
but unwilling to brave the emotional fallout just yet.

Once he had straightened things out with Chakotay, he'd be back. And then his 
fling with B'Elanna would be over. He refused to give a backward glance as he 
made his escape.

B'Elanna sighed as Tom's tense back disappeared through the closing panel. She 
picked up her wine, staring into the dark red liquid, lost in thought.

Tonight had been a disaster. Every dragging minute Tom fidgeting, broadcasting 
his eagerness to get away. To escape from *her*.

More disturbing was her own ambivalence: though she was angry and hurt, part of 
her truly didn't care if he left or stayed. In some ways he was a stranger, some 
guy she found in her bed this morning, smelly and sticky and banged-up as 
herself.

But for weeks until yesterday, Tom had been her entire universe. Her sole reason 
for being, while she was in the hazy re-acquaintance with the Klingon version of 
pon farr---courtesy of those phase-shifted bastards.

Her growl didn't startle her. She wanted to rip the aliens limb from limb for 
daring to mess with her body, making her lose control.

Yet Janeway had let them escape, no repercussions, no punishment for the agony 
and suffering, or even the loss of their crewmate. Some days it just didn't pay 
to be civilized.

Because now B'Elanna was dealing with the dregs of emotions that were as bitter 
as her most private truths.

The empty cabin seemed to mock her uncertainty. Did she share those secrets, or 
bury them forever?

Fruitless introspection always annoyed her. She just shrugged and tossed back 
the last of her wine.

And resolved to wait and see.

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

Chakotay hated the taste of hard liquor, but tonight he welcomed the burn at the 
back of his throat, stealing his breath.

Reminding him he was still alive.

His fingers ran through his hair of their own volition---unconscious 
confirmation that the strands weren't falling out again anytime soon.

He shouldn't have been bald. The Srivani added insult to injury, not even 
letting him age like a proper Dorvan, with the white hair that typically adorned 
the elders of both sexes.

The shadow of the old man with his face lay upon him still. His bones ached; he 
couldn't seem to shake a soul-deep fatigue. The only reason he was in Sandrine's 
was to banish the crew's memory of his infirmity. They needed to see him alive, 
healthy, and at least as young as he used to be.

Even if he felt as old as he was ever going to get.

The Doc said the lingering side-effects would fade in another day or so. Just a 
little time needed to get back the bounce in his step. To cram the latest alien 
violation of his body and mind into its storage bin and forget.

He was getting damn sick and tired of being the Delta Quadrant's plaything.

Another sip of whiskey replaced the sour taste in his mouth with a slightly more 
palatable one. A leisurely look around the room revealed crewmembers bold and 
humble huddled together like frightened children, trying to find safety in 
numbers even though they were *almost* positive the danger was past.

Ironic, since the Srivani had demonstrated so effectively that there was no 
comfort---or protection---to be found.

His brief flirtation with the thought of scooping up a companion or two and 
privately celebrating a successful recovery was very brief indeed.

He'd never been much for casual sex. And he didn't care for the idea of further 
victimizing a victim. They had all been hurt by the Srivani, one way or another.

Besides, the person he might have preferred to spend time with was a little busy 
at the moment---shacking up with his best friend.

The last sip of his drink wasn't strong enough to chase away the bitter thoughts 
this time. He signaled the barkeep for another.

"It's on me."

Chakotay didn't need to turn to look at Tom. He could gauge the amount of self-
recrimination twisting the pale features just by the guilt wincing through the 
younger man's voice. "No thank you."

"Chakotay, we have to talk," Tom insisted as he slid sideways onto a stool and 
planted one elbow on the bar. He wrapped his other hand around Chakotay's wrist.

Chakotay shifted away, freeing himself to accept a fresh drink. He slowly 
rotated the glass between his hands, keeping his gaze on the amber liquid. And 
his emotions firmly in check.

After all, as far as anyone on Voyager knew, Tom and he were just friends. Just 
as everyone knew B'Elanna and Tom were lovers. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit." Tom's breath hissed sudden heat in his ear. Chakotay cursed the 
involuntary shiver of awareness that snaked down his spine. He had already made 
his choices. They would be hard enough to live with. He didn't need Tom 
hovering, close as a lover, playing havoc with his senses.

Time for evasive maneuvers. An abrupt shift to face temptation straight on, a 
casual shoulder bump on the way putting space between them, crossed arms 
creating a barrier. "Really. Well from where I sit, Tom, any 'conversation' 
between us finished the moment you took B'Elanna to bed."

"Fuck that, Chakotay. You know what happened---those aliens messed with my head, 
and my dick went along for the ride. It's not like there was a lot I could do 
about it." Tom thrust his face forward, an angry flush spreading along his 
cheeks. "Or are you telling me you were going to grow your hair back with the 
power of positive thinking?"

Keep cool. Keep calm. The only way to get through this was to stay in control. 
Chakotay replied, "I'm not saying that you had any control over your hormones---
just who you decided to indulge them with." He watched blue eyes widen, then 
narrow; this was obviously going to be a tough sell. Chakotay braced himself and 
said, "I checked with the Doc. The Srivani made you horny as hell, but they 
didn't force you to fuck B'Elanna."

Tom's protest was so perfect it was as if he'd read Chakotay's script. "But she 
had her libido stuck on high too. Of course we ended up together."

"No dice," Chakotay scoffed. "Gerron and Jenny Delaney were in the same 
situation, but they weren't *compelled* to do the horizontal mambo. Jenny just 
worked off her frustrations on the holodeck, and Gerron got frisky with Greg. 
*His lover*."

Chakotay clamped his lips on the rest of his tirade; he'd already decided he had 
no claim on Tom, so he had no right to complain about him either. Shrug it off, 
get it done. "Bottom line, your instincts were hyped up and they led you away 
from me and straight to B'Elanna. Who, if there's any truth to the rumor, is 
already head over heels in love with you. Congratulations." Chakotay turned back 
to his drink. "That's pretty much the end of it."

Tom gritted his teeth in frustration. He'd known Chakotay wouldn't want to hurt 
B'Elanna; hell, he wasn't looking forward to that himself. But why was Chakotay 
being so damn *stubborn*? Why couldn't he *see*? "Chakotay, B'Elanna and I joked 
about our fling being due to the Srivani. But it turns out to be true---I don't 
feel anything for her except friendship anymore. She's not going to be all that 
shocked if I end things. It's not like I told her I loved her or anything."

"For the record, you never said you loved *me*, either." Chakotay's voice was 
flat. "But then what we had was more of a liaison than a love affair. And I'd 
just as soon not start it all over again. You're a bit too high-maintenance for 
me, Tom---but apparently not for B'Elanna. So no thanks, not interested."

The cool air of dismissal as Chakotay raised his glass to his lips irked Tom 
into action. No way was he going to be brushed off like a piece of lint. This 
was too personal, too important. He stood up and grabbed blindly, ignoring the 
slosh of liquor onto their hands as he jerked Chakotay around to face him again, 
uncaring of who saw or heard them.

"What the hell is the matter with you? We had something good going and you just 
want to flush it away like a piece of shit. High-maintenance my ass." Tom's gut 
clenched again, this time in dread, as resignation settled over Chakotay's face. 
It made him look like he had just hours ago, old and tired.

"I tried to let you down easy, Tom, but you're forcing me to play hardball." 
Chakotay pulled free once more and set down his drink. "So here's the truth: I'm 
glad this happened. If you hadn't dumped me for B'Elanna I'd have dumped you 
soon enough."

Tom's mind went blank; utter silence. Shock held him upright a moment, swaying. 
Then he blindly fumbled around for his stool and fell onto it. "What?"

Chakotay fought his instinct to reach out and steady Tom. He couldn't risk 
showing any sign of weakening, too uncertain of his façade of determination. He 
firmed his jaw and his tone. "I mean it, Tom. Sure, we had a few good times, 
some laughs, and maybe I even convinced myself that I was in love with you for a 
little while." He cringed internally at Tom's shocked gasp. "But I just can't 
take the lies anymore."

"What do you mean---I never lied to you, Chakotay." So little force behind that 
denial.

"You think not? Maybe it wasn't intentional. But you know what they say: Actions 
speak louder than words." Chakotay dropped his gaze to his whiskey-soaked 
sleeve; this was harder than he'd hoped. "When we first batted around the idea 
of...exploring our mutual attraction, I was up front with you, Tom. I told you 
that if I wanted to be a top exclusively I'd be with a woman. You said you were 
okay with that."

Tom felt his body grow cold. Chakotay *knew*. Or suspected. Maybe not 
everything, but enough. He swallowed, silent, as Chakotay continued, "But you 
never took the lead in *anything*, Tom. You had me make all the moves, all the 
decisions, practically all the conversation. Hell, I've seen sacks of wheat with 
more spirit. Whoever that was sharing my life, my bed, it definitely *wasn't* 
Tom Paris." Tom gasped at the bleakness in the dark eyes that met his. "So you 
lied to me, Tom, right from the start."

"I didn't, I swear, Chakotay. It's just---" The words choked in Tom's throat. He 
couldn't explain; it was all too sordid, evoking memories of back alleys and 
darker days. "Please, can't we go back to the way things were? We were so right 
together." He reached out once more, laying his hand on Chakotay's. "I *like* 
who I am when I'm with you." And it was true. When he was in basking in the 
light of Chakotay's eyes, lying nestled in his embrace, he felt a different man: 
cherished, clean, perfect, whole.

Home.

Chakotay lifted Tom's hand from his own and placed it on the bar. He hated 
causing the shell-shocked look in those blue eyes, but he knew in his gut that 
he couldn't pretend everything was fine anymore. He thought with time and TLC 
Tom would open up to him, but instead Tom had gotten more and more entrenched in 
the strange, meek persona he used when they were alone.

He couldn't even begin to guess what that mask was hiding. He doubted he would 
ever know.

"But it's not who you *are*, Tom. You never let me in, not even close." Chakotay 
cursed the quiver in his fingers as he raised a hand to Tom's face, a hesitant 
but necessary caress. His heart lurched as Tom leaned into the touch, eyelids 
sliding shut. Chakotay murmured sadly, "You're a beautiful man, Tom, but that's 
not enough. Passion isn't enough. Not even love is enough. If nothing else, 
coming so close to death showed me that."

He dropped his hand and waited for Tom to open his eyes. Hoping his own conveyed 
his resolve, and hid the feelings that still raged so strongly in his soul, 
Chakotay said quietly, "I can't do it anymore, Tom. What we had together 
wasn't...wasn't *real*. I can't live every moment wondering what your secrets 
are. Why you don't---won't---trust me. When the axe is going to fall. Whether 
you're just the latest in a too-long line of people who have used and 
manipulated me."

There was a world of hurt in Chakotay's sigh. "I'm sorry, but I've been played 
for a fool too many times before. I've reached a point in my life where I'd 
rather live alone than live a lie." He stood.

Tom's eyes flashed---rage and hurt throwing shadows in stark relief---as anger 
sparked him back to life. "So you're just passing me off to B'Elanna like a vid 
you've gotten tired of?"

Chakotay's back stiffened; his own temper kindled. "I don't see any virgins 
being sacrificed here. *You* cheated on me, remember?"

But the anger was snuffed out just as abruptly by the lost expression on Tom's 
face as the younger man whispered, "Can't we try again, Chakotay?"

Tom could see the answer before Chakotay spoke. The light had dimmed in those 
earth-dark eyes, regret and sorrow deepening the lines on the handsome face. 
"No, Tom, I don't think so. As much as I wish otherwise, I honestly believe 
you're better off with B'Elanna. You seem...more yourself with her. And she 
loves you. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be." The sad smile that 
quirked Chakotay's mouth vividly reminded Tom of the first time they'd ever 
kissed. The softness, the wet sweet heat hidden within.

A sudden urge rose in him to just grab Chakotay, to capture those dismissive, 
denying lips with his own, press the solid body into the bar, grind his hips 
into the other man's. Force him to accept Tom back in his life. Shuddering, he 
quashed the instinct ruthlessly, and made himself accept the truth: it was over.

Tom didn't look at Chakotay again; he just stood and left the room.

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

Chakotay sat down again and asked for a glass of water, pushing away the dregs 
of whiskey. The liquor would curdle his stomach now, along with the stew of 
regret and resolve already churning his guts.

"May I join you?"

Great. Just what he needed. A visit from Tuvok. Sipping his water and suddenly 
wishing he *had* ordered whiskey instead, he nodded toward Tom's vacated stool. 
"Sure."

Tuvok's nostrils pinched at the alcohol overlaying the commander's usual scent. 
He knew his timing was...less than optimal, but he didn't have the luxury of 
waiting. "I overheard your conversation with Lieutenant Paris. A most 
unfortunate turn of events." Truth to tell, he'd deliberately eavesdropped, 
trying to ignore the flashes of relief and frustration at each turn of the 
conversation.

Chakotay's reply was a grunt. He wondered who else had listened in on the 
exchange, and now knew that he and Tom had made a private, personal connection.

That had just been very publicly severed.

He straightened his shoulders and dragged his attention from his own problems. 
Tuvok never sought him out without reason. And Chakotay suspected he already 
knew why the security officer had tracked him down off-duty. "So Tuvok, has the 
Doc managed to get you and Vorik back on an even keel?"

Chakotay had read the EMH's report. He felt sorry for both men. The Srivani, it 
seemed, had been fascinated by Vulcan physiology. They'd played havoc with the 
men's endocrine systems to try and trigger the pon farr. Since there was no 
obvious analogy in their own physical make-up, it seemed likely the only reason 
they did it was because they could.

Damn phase-shifting bastards.

He glanced over, then returned to scrutinize Tuvok more carefully. The Vulcan's 
rather stern features were more sharply drawn than usual, and his ebony skin 
held an odd greenish tinge. A vague sense of alarm turned him to fully face his 
companion as he awaited an answer.

Tuvok knew the moment Chakotay fully engaged. The younger man's dark brown eyes 
widened, then seemed to scan him with concentrated precision. The obvious 
concern in his expression was expected but still...reassuring.

They were not friends, truly. But Tuvok needed them to become much more. "Vorik 
had finished his cycle recently enough that the doctor was able to pull him out 
of the artificial induction, though not without difficulty." He paused.

"But it's been quite a few years for you, hasn't it?" Chakotay's brow knit. "The 
treatments didn't work?"

"Yes, to both questions." Tuvok paused again. He could already sense the heat 
rising in his core, in his veins, whispering through his mind in the primitive, 
primal sounds that came before words.

Chakotay's mouth thinned as he acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "So 
you're going to need to be relieved of duty for the duration. I'll adjust the 
schedule and alert Greg to your absence." He tilted his head. "Have you told 
Kathryn?"

"No, not as yet." Tuvok steeled himself to broach a delicate subject. "I am 
still making arrangements."

Chakotay nodded, but knew he couldn't truly fathom what Tuvok was going through. 
To be forced by a whim of fate into the pon farr, so far away from his beloved 
mate, must be devastating. "Will you need a holodeck for your meditations 
or...other measures?"

"I do not believe so. I have already concluded that a facsimile of T'Pel is 
ineffective." Tuvok looked straight at the human. "But I do have a question and 
a...personal request."

Chakotay suddenly felt pinned by dark, glittering eyes. He swallowed at the 
sudden sense of...awareness...that seemed to leap to life between them. He 
nodded again, shocked to silence.

Tuvok could already feel the attraction. Not the merging of opposites that was 
his mating bond, but the pull of like to like. A call of strength to strength, 
loss to loss, and a hunger for the passion that smoldered beneath Chakotay's 
cool exterior. "Is your relationship with Tom Paris truly finished?"

Chakotay blinked, Tom's memory breaking the spell that had held him entranced. 
He looked away, still too raw to casually chat about it. "Yes," he said curtly.

"Why?" The question---and its answer---were important to Tuvok, a test of 
motive, or character.

"Because I had to." Chakotay's anger at the intrusion of his privacy was muted 
by the sorrow of what he had lost. *Who* he never really had. "Tom was...strange 
when we were together. Quiet and overly submissive. Nothing like himself. I knew 
he was hiding something."

He shrugged. "I also know myself well enough that I'd have started to resent him 
for it. I could already feel the urge to push him, to test his limits to see 
what it would take to make him drop the façade. It just...it didn't seem like we 
would make it, long-term. But he has a real chance with B'Elanna, so I let him 
go. Tom deserves to be happy."

"And what about you?" Tuvok leaned closer unconsciously.

"I'll survive." Chakotay's mouth quirked as he noted wryly, "It's not like I 
haven't had plenty of practice."

Tuvok stared a moment, again reviewing the logic of his course of action. The 
decision was sound. There was no elegant preface he could think of, the heady 
swirl of hormones in his blood urging him to act fast, act now. "I would like 
your help with the pon farr."

He had anticipated Chakotay's startled look. "What?"

"I wish to mate with you---temporarily." Tuvok stressed the time frame. "If a 
light mental link is correctly established, then there should be no 
residual...obligation...when the mating cycle is completed."

Chakotay couldn't believe his ears. True, Tom had effectively dumped him weeks 
ago when the blond took up with B'Elanna. But Tuvok knew the official break-up 
was barely minutes old. "Why?"

His mouth tightened as he expected a bland Vulcan comment on his imprecision, 
but instead Tuvok simply answered, "Because you are the most logical choice."

Now his eyes narrowed; he could name half a dozen people Tuvok was closer to. 
"How so?"

"You are the fourth strongest person on the ship, excepting myself. Vorik has 
no...appetite for such a joining. Seven is too emotionally immature as yet to 
risk a mating bond, however insubstantial. And B'Elanna..."

"B'Elanna is currently engaged elsewhere."

"Yes." Tuvok nodded, aware that Chakotay showed no sign of distress at the 
statement other than a tightening around the eyes. His own attention was drawn 
to Chakotay's tattoo. It was curiously symbolic of the man: no one had guessed 
how much was hidden from view.

He shivered uncharacteristically as Chakotay's eyes suddenly bore into his, a 
hint of anger in their depths. "Bullshit. Don't throw up a smokescreen about 
'strength'. Sarek of Vulcan was married to slight human women most of his life. 
So there must be some measure of control---physical or mental---to prevent 
partners from being hurt. You just eavesdropped on me, Tuvok, ending things with 
Tom because he couldn't be honest with me. I'd have thought your logical mind 
would have calculated my reaction to being lied to."

When Chakotay stood to leave Tuvok leapt up as well. He wasn't about to let his 
prey escape. He grabbed the broader man's biceps and swung him in a half-circle, 
leaving Chakotay's back pressed against the bar and his front flattened by 
Tuvok's weight. Tuvok barely kept the growl from his voice as he grated, 
"Physical strength *was* part of the equation. But I'll admit it was ill-advised 
of me to omit the other reasons. I have wanted to fuck you since the day we met. 
You can at times exhibit an almost-Vulcan stoicism, but I remember how you were 
with Seska, all fire and blood."

Tuvok felt heat rising, his cock swelling at the thought of consummation. Soon, 
so soon. But first he knew that he needed consent. If he didn't have help to 
establish a light bond, his need could drive him into forcing one---deep, and 
permanent. His grip tightened as he struggled to contain himself. "There is also 
your obvious love for Tom Paris. You are the Voyager crewmember least likely to 
threaten my link with T'Pel. I do not wish to lose the life-bond to my beloved 
because of an unfortunate Delta Quadrant...necessity."

Chakotay didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. He felt the truth of 
Tuvok's arousal easily enough, but he hated the thought of being used again. 
Especially because he was considered *harmless*.

But he knew he'd agree to be Tuvok's bedmate. Tuvok wouldn't have asked if he 
had any other option. This was a desperate time, calling for desperate measures. 
Chakotay could already see the Vulcan's control fraying. But a surge of anger, 
whether at Tuvok or Tom or the Srivani or just the universe at large, made him 
flip their bodies so their positions were reversed. Now *he* pressed Tuvok into 
the bar, growling, "What the hell, I'll do it. But let me make one thing clear: 
I told Tom I wasn't interested in a bottom boy. I'm not looking to *be* one, 
either. You want this, you're going to go all the way."

Tuvok simply kissed him, hard, then drew back and hissed, "Yes."

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

B'Elanna considered her visitor as he walked into the room and slumped on her 
couch. Tom looked awful. Well, that was hardly surprising since it appeared he 
hadn't been to bed since he left her quarters hours earlier.

She hadn't been able to sleep, either. Waiting for him to arrive.

How this conversation would go, she had no clue. Especially in light of the 
messages she'd received regarding the other corner of their little triangle.

"I could have told you Chakotay wouldn't take you back," she said idly.

Tom's bewildered expression would have been funny under less painful 
circumstances. His jaw dropped and his eyes showed more white than blue. 
"What?!"

"It's not his way. He told me once that life had taught him never to look back, 
because there was nothing behind him." B'Elanna held his gaze. She was hiding 
her nervousness better than her lover, but it was there just the same. "You came 
here to break up with me, didn't you."

"I---yes." Tom rose and began to pace the small living space. He had spent the 
last few hours the same way, walking Voyager's decks, trying to decide what to 
do.

He'd finally made up his mind to end things with B'Elanna. He hadn't decided 
what to do about Chakotay.

But the news that B'Elanna *knew* about the men's affair floored him. He stalked 
back and seized her shoulders. "How long have you known," he snarled.

"Since the first night you spent together," B'Elanna spat back, slack in his 
hold, eyes glittering. "I smelled you on each other during the red alert. You 
obviously didn't have time for a real shower."

Tom dropped her, stunned. He sank down onto the sofa, horror filling him. "You 
knew. When you jumped into bed with me, you *knew* Chakotay and I were lovers?"

Without conscious deliberation, B'Elanna had obviously decided to come clean. 
She mentally shrugged; a good warrior trusts their instincts. And she could 
easily sense the vulnerability of her current combatant. "You came after *me*, 
Tom, let's not forget that. But yes, I knew about Chakotay when I slept with 
you. I was also sure I wasn't doing any harm. You and Chakotay weren't going to 
last for very long."

She felt a surge of compassion for Tom's confused hurt. He had brought this on 
himself, but it was painful to behold. She explained, "I know Chakotay pretty 
well. He can hide things like anyone else, but if you catch him at just the 
right moments his eyes give him away. I saw him happy, for a short time. But 
then he would look at you and I could tell he was disappointed, confused, hurt, 
maybe even angry. It was just like watching him with Seska, right before he 
ended things with her."

A pause brought nothing but flinching silence from Tom, so B'Elanna kept going. 
"I knew for certain it was over between you when Chakotay didn't come after you 
for sleeping with me. He didn't do anything at all---polite, tacit agreement." 
She snorted. "He always preferred subtlety."

Tom shook his head, trying to comprehend all that had happened this night. He 
now understood why Chakotay hated secrets, if this was the kind of scene he'd 
gone through with Seska, or Riley. Maybe even with Kathryn over the Jonas 
incident. It was humiliating to be so oblivious.

His whole worldview had lurched sickeningly at B'Elanna's revelations. "Why?" 
was the only thing he could ask. "Why did you fuck me? You knew it was a lie."

He cringed at the expression on B'Elanna's face. Anger, hurt, maybe even 
offense. She snapped at him, "Because I wanted to. I never lied to *you*, Tom. I 
told you I loved you and I meant it." Her voice roughened as she leaned forward, 
"By the time you seduced me, I had no choice."

"What do you mean?" Tom started when B'Elanna abruptly moved away to stare out 
the viewport. He had never seen her so still, so controlled as she began to 
speak.

"I had been in love with Chakotay for so long. I wanted him, needed him---but I 
knew I'd never have him. And Klingons aren't the type to pine after impossible 
dreams. Life's just too short."

She turned around and looked at Tom, carefully, clinically, as if cataloging the 
differences between the men as she listed them. "Chakotay was just my type. So I 
decided to set my sights on the very opposite of him. And there you were: fair 
not dark, bland instead of exotic. Slender rather than powerful. Affable as 
opposed to intense. Someone whose chatter always fills the silence. Someone 
who's safe."

Her mouth twisted. "So I made myself fall in love with you. With everything in 
me I convinced myself your irritating quirks were charming. That you weren't 
just another bratty Starfleet Flyboy." Her expression softened. "And the funny 
thing is, I was right. You *can* be charming. And sweet. And I started to think 
maybe I could really love you after all. When I believed I'd never get another 
chance, I told you so."

She shrugged and sat down again, eyes serious. "You aren't my first choice, Tom. 
You never were. But I *have* chosen you and I can build a life with you. So if 
you want to stay together and make this work, I'll do what I must to keep you."

Tom stayed motionless another moment, then exploded. "Just what the fuck am I 
supposed to do with that? Be grateful you saw the light and decided I wasn't 
such a bad consolation prize after all?" He surged to his feet, but there was 
nowhere to go. He turned to B'Elanna and stared at her, this woman he thought he 
knew. "Why the hell would you want to stay with me? What is this *thing* we're 
supposed to have?"

His nerves were jangling; he desperately wanted to flee but felt rooted to the 
spot, a strange sort of inertia keeping him in place. The dust, blown away by 
all the shocks, was settling on him again. A blanket---comforting and 
suffocating at once. A cold fear bloomed in his stomach, a sudden wild vision of 
himself trapped like a fly in a black widow's web.

But he knew B'Elanna wasn't deadly, or deluded. She was just...practical.

B'Elanna could read Tom's struggle in the changing expressions on his face. She 
answered him quietly, "A port in the storm. Safe harbor when you know you'll 
never make it home. You can dump me, Tom, if you want. Like you dumped Chakotay 
and he dumped you. But I know him: he'd never have given up on you without a 
reason, and he's not going to take you back. And I *do* love you. Enough that I 
don't care about your secrets. Any of them."

She waited as Tom just stared at her with unreadable eyes.

Finally he spoke. "I can't, B'Elanna. I didn't love you when we got together, 
and I'm not even sure I *like* you right now."

The decision was not unexpected. "Just think about it, Tom. Remember how hot, 
how good it was between us. It could be like that again, I know it." She 
shrugged and played her last card. "By the way, the duty roster's changed and 
the grapevine will give you the reason soon enough. Tuvok's gone into pon farr, 
and Chakotay's going to help him through it. As his mate."

TBC

****END OF PART ONE****