Title: Under The Waning Moon.

Author: Ki Slash.

Archive: Ask me first. 

Categories: angst, violence, h/c, crossover a/u, m/m sex.

Warning: blood, violence, dark stuff.

Pairing: C/P.

Rating: R.

Note: This is a crossover with Werewolf: The Apocalypse, White Wolf's RPG game. The terms were taken from the game itself. If I have confused anyone, please forgive me. 

Disclaimers: I pay my respects to Paramount Pictures and White Wolf. 

Summary: A sequel to "Shadow of the Red Moon". As the Maquis pack sleeps, Tom talks to Chakotay under the waning moon. Gritty details might put off some readers.

Terms to note before the story starts"

The werewolves in this universe are called Garou, after the French loup-garou.

The Garou have three breeds:

Homid: Garou born human.

Metis: Garou born (usually) deformed after a union between two Garou parents. Metis werewolves are looked down by Garou society because of their deformities. (The Litany: Garou are not supposed to mate with each other). 

Lupus: Garou born wolf. This breed is highly respected in certain Garou tribes. 

The character and personality of a Garou is determined by the moon under which he or she is born:

Ragabash (new moon): The trickster.

Theurge (crescent moon): The seer.

Philodox (half-moon): The leader, the mediator.

Galliard (gibbous moon, almost full moon): The singer, bard. Moondancer.

Ahroun (full moon): The warrior.

"Under The Waning Moon"

The fire crackled softly as the cloaked figure stirred the glowing embers with a thin branch. It held a metal mug in its pale hands, lifting it occasionally up to unseen lips. A pot of meat stew bubbled weakly; the fragrance of tender meat lingered in the night air, together with other scents.

There were soft coughs and curses as bundles of blankets shifted now and then. Faint voices complained about sore limbs and bleeding wounds, followed by gruff chuckles and reassurances of healing. They were afterall Garou and Garou were known to heal more quickly than ordinary humans. Right now, the pack needed only rest, having spent days running away from the Federation. Many of the pack-members slept soundly with full bellies. However, they would wake swiftly when danger was scented in the distance. They were at war and as warriors, they were not inclined to relax that easily. Too many foolish Garou had paid the price already. Their sentry paced up and down in their wolf forms, eyes glowing eerily green in the darkness. 

The cloaked figure sipped the contents of the metal mug, leaning against a tree. It sat apart from the rest of the pack, relishing the silence and the peace. 


The familiar scent, of masculine musk and authority, alerted the cloaked figure even before the Maquis leader stepped into the circle of light. The man walked with a deadly elegance, confident and self-assured of his authority as alpha.

"Chakotay…" Tom drew down the hood and smiled a little at his leader… his lover. He could smell the residual traces of lovemaking on the man and he hid his grin. Their lovemaking. Rich with the scents of the earth and the musk of bodily fluids. He gulped down the rest of the stew, feeling it slide down his throat. 

"Have you seen the moon?" Chakotay began, rubbing his right arm and flexing it experimentally. Tom glanced at it, quelling a spurt of anxiety. The leader had hurt himself fighting the accursed Federation; a modified phaser had done its nasty work, nearly severing vulnerable tendons. The wound drove Chakotay into full Rage and he impaled the woman with his left claw, pulling out soft innards. The woman died instantly, in her own pool of blood and Chakotay bled profusely. But, thanks to Gaia and Her bountiful goodness, he healed rather rapidly and was already using the injured arm a few days after the fateful incident. 

"The moon?" The question threw the younger man off-guard. "Oh…" He gazed up into the sky now covered by criss-crossing leaves and branches. The silver-white moon peered through, casting a weak light on his face. Tom recalled the full moon, the red moon and relished the feelings of pleasure seeping into his body. He felt like singing, expressing his joy via music. But the pack slept around him and he curbed down the desire to dance, folding his arms across his chest. 

"I have always loved the moon," Chakotay said, his face becoming distant, as if he was remembering something. "We used to have meetings under the full moon, singing and telling stories. I remember that the Galliards would sing and we would howl to the moon, to Gaia." He clenched his right hand and Tom watched the muscles ripple along the powerful arm. A memory of Chakotay, in full Rage mode and in his half-wolf form, came to the youth's mind. The Maquis leader was heavily muscled, covered with silver-fur; his teeth were fangs, glittering in the dark. 

"Meetings…" Tom closed his eyes. Music whispered in his ears, drums beating a steady rhythm as men and women chanted. There was a bon-fire in his mind, breathing heat against his bare skin as he stood, singing with the aged Galliard Flint-Song. As he sung, the people stood up, unashamed of their nakedness. They began to dance to the drum-beat, their limbs glistening with sweat. They began to change too, their human forms disappearing under fur and animal muscle.

Flint-Song had brought him to a secret place, near the majestic Rocky Mountains. There, the old Garou introduced him to the rest of the pack, a mixture of Wendigo, Silverfang and Uktena. They were hesitant at first, even though they had scented the Garou in him. As the day waned to evening, they grew used to him and welcomed him to their meeting. 

It was five months after he had experienced the terrifying…

"Tom? You are quiet…" Chakotay placed a warm hand on the youth's shoulder. The leader was perplexed to see an expression of… sorrow on the younger man's face. The lips drooped downwards and the eyes were haunted. It unnerved Chakotay sometimes. On one hand, Tom could look the picture of sheer bliss as he was being pleasured, his eyes glowing and his lips made full by kisses. On the other hand, his mood would change to sadness and his own countenance readily followed.

"You know something? It has been almost two years…" Tom said, turning those blue eyes at him. "Two years after you had found me at Marseilles…"

"And you have grown to become a fine young man, a good warrior." Chakotay said, brushing his fingers on the cool cheek and felt Tom shiver. The older warrior knew that the young man was blushing with the praise and he smiled to himself. A dark shape prowled in the shadows, a sleek black wolf with fire-red eyes. B'Elanna, in her wolf-form. Chakotay acknowledged her with a wave of his hand. The wolf made a soft growl and slipped back into the darkness. 

Tom straightened and ran his fingers through his hair. "How was your First Change?" He glanced over at Chakotay who lifted his eyebrow. 

There was silence between the two men. First Change was not easy to explain. It was a private experience, too intimate to tell your pack-mates and strangers. Not many Garou found First Change comfortable to talk about, in a casual conversational manner. Most Garou experienced it in their adolescence, itself a time of turmoil and momentous change. First Change was a sign that the adolescent was different…very different. Life after it wasn't going to be the same again. 

Chakotay didn't speak for a while, looking into the fire. Tom waited patiently. The breeze brushed against their skins, rustling the leaves.

"My First Change…" The Maquis leader began, his tone half-rueful, half-amused. "The community I was brought up in had Wendigo Kinfolk, people whose relatives or friends were werewolves. These Kinfolk were not afraid of us, hunting and working side by side with us. So when I underwent Change, the rest of the community accepted it as a fact of life." Tom's eyes watched him steadily, unwaveringly. He continued, "How can I put my finger on the exact feelings of First Change. Scared, shocked as hell. But happy, exhilarated… I Changed when I was out fishing with my cousins. I remembered quarrelling with one of them… Santos… I think. Then, the next thing I knew was this inexplicable feeling of rage bubbling up like a geyser and everything became a blur. When I came to, I found myself next to the stream. My cousins were gone. My body felt as if it was encased in a separate…yet strangely familiar covering…"

"I saw something in the water. A reflection of a wolf-face and a furred body… It was me…"

Chakotay had gone quiet, his eyes closed now. 

"I hid my First Change from everyone…" 

The strained voice woke the Maquis leader from his reverie. It was Tom's voice and it was full of pain.

"I Changed alone, in my own room." Tom said. "I had argued with Dad about Mom. I had yelled at him to stop hitting Mom but that old bastard never listened. I ran up the stairs and shut myself in my room. I could still hear Mom sobbing downstairs. Fight that old bastard, Mom! I told her before. Fight him! Stand up for your own rights! But she was too stupid, too vulnerable… She loved him…"

The tone had gone bleak and Chakotay draped a comforting arm across the youth's shoulders. 

"I was so mad with Dad. Starfleet admiral. Yeah right… top accolades… He treated his wife like scum and my sisters never stopped him! I hated the name of Paris. Hated it with a passion that surprised me. It filled my body and I luxuriated in it. I began flinging all the models against the wall… I can never be as good as he is! "

"I Changed, right in the middle of my room. All I knew was blinding rage pumping through me. When I regained lucidity, I was standing in the midst of shredded clothing and bed-sheets. The walls had… deep gashes in them. Claw marks… My clothes were in tatters…" Tom buried his face into his hands and his body shook with suppressed sobs. "Of course, Dad blew his top when he saw the state of my room and he threatened to send me to the top psychiatric hospital. I grew frightened. Maybe, I was really mad as he had claimed. Like my mom. Like my grandfather… Barking mad, all of them! He reprimanded me…"

Tom sighed and leaned against Chakotay's shoulder. "I was only sixteen…" He said in a small voice. 

A mournful howl disturbed the peace: a wolf stating his place. It sounded haunting in the nightscape. 

"Later in the week, when I felt I was at least sane enough, I went for a walk. Then, this gardener guy approached me. He told me that his name was Boothby and that he was going to teach me certain important lessons in life…"

"Boothby… Flint-Song…" Chakotay smiled, nodding. The irascible grounds-keeper was a familiar sight at Starfleet Academy. The old Garou had made it his life-duty to look out for members of his own kind. Easily irritable but warm-hearted, Boothby/Flint-Song had taught many young Garou their heritage.

"I didn't know that he was called Flint-Song then. I thought that he was a nut and I ignored me. But he persisted…even bit my throat in a fit of pique…" Tom's blue eyes twinkled with amusement. " 'You are a cocky one, Paris! You have the fine heart of a warrior… if only you'd listen to me!' He growled at me. "

"We went on a camping trip. I had to run away from home. Dad would never agree anyway… Booth…Flint-Song brought me to one of the nature reserves and he transformed into his Crinos form, forcing me to run after him…"

Chakotay chuckled and shifted over to the pot where he scooped some into Tom's mug. He handed it over to the young man who took it gratefully. 

"He taught me how to shape-shift that day. 'Crash course,' he told me. 'We haven't have that much time, young cub!' Then while we ate dinner, he taught me the Litany, told me about the tribes and the fight against the Wyrm." Tom continued and drank the stew. "He also taught me how to hunt…" The young man examined his right hand in the light of the dwindling fire. The nails lengthened effortlessly and Tom grinned, his face suddenly feral. 

"Perhaps… when everything is over, we will go on a hunt, you and me…" Chakotay said and leaned over, claiming those lips. Tom tasted of meat stew and his musk was sweet, turning his blood to fire. Chakotay groaned deep in his throat, his desire throbbing between his legs. He was thrilled to find Tom responding eagerly. Of course, he was taught that Garou weren't supposed to mate and homosexual relationships were frowned upon. There were a few in the Maquis pack who showed their displeasure. They didn't dare to express their doubts though; Chakotay was quick to enforce his authority. 

And times were changing. The younger Garou in the pack were pairing off. It used to be a great deal when it came to breed. The metis Garou used to be outcasts. Homids were more or less accepted. Yet, with the changing times, the Garou had to change their perceptions…

A black wolf padded in, transforming into a half-Klingon woman. She placed her hands on her slim hips, her disquiet apparent in her stance. 

'I hate to disturb you," her voice was light. "But Tom has guard duty to do…" She met Chakotay's stare defiantly. The air throbbed between the two. 

She was the first to turn away. 

"I will go…" Tom smiled and stroked Chakotay's cheek, noting the woman's glare. B'Elanna was a Black Fury metis, acutely aware of her Klingon background and her werewolf heritage. He had seen her in combat. Her aggression made up for her brittle claws. "Relax, B'Elanna…" He said calmly and stood up, stretching himself. He shifted easily, into the shape of a silver-furred wolf. With a twinkle in the blue eyes, the wolf walked into the darkness. 

"You are spending a lot of time with Starfleet boy," B'Elanna said sharply, her frown making the ridges on her forehead more prominent. 

"You jealous?" Chakotay said, his voice a soft growl. He stared at her and she snarled, lifting her lips to bare her incisor teeth. The Maquis leader felt himself bristling and he curbed down automatic Rage. B'Elanna stood her ground, her growling growing louder.

"I am merely stating my point," her voice was thick now, with suppressed anger.

"What I am doing is not your business," Chakotay said firmly. 

B'Elanna calmed down, her face smoothing visibly. She shrugged and shook her head. "Just be careful, Chakotay…"

The Maquis leader had to smile. B'Elanna was his sister, of sorts. They had been fighting together for quite some time now and a bond had been forged. "I will," he nodded and she left, her boots rustling on the leaf-covered ground. 

With a smile, Chakotay knelt down and prayed to his ancestors. A new day would soon arrive.