Warning: the following story contains m/m contents. If you are above 18, please go ahead and read. If you are not, feel free to go.
Disclaimer: Chakotay and Paris belong to Paramount Pictures. This story is only a figment of my imagination and creativity.
NC-17 ? (mention of sex?)
Alternative universe, prequel to "No Angel Ain't Gonna Meet Me". (Tom's POV)
Visions of Angels
I saw it.
Or I guess I saw it.
I kept this 'vision' to myself. Hey, I am not some Bajoran prophet! Or in this case, I am not Tuvok, so intuned to the airy-fairy world of meditation.
But it ...he ...she ...was standing there.
I was walking to the Messhall when I saw it. There were groups of officers walking in and out, laughing and talking amongst themselves. I was fresh out from the Bridge, tired after sitting at the CONN for a long shift and hungry as hell. The mention of food, even Neelix's grub, sounded fantastic.
Even leola root stew sounded good.
Then I thought I saw something golden at the corner of my eyes. I turned, thinking that one of the crewmembers might be playing a trick on me.
I saw it. He. She.
The figure stood near the doors of the Messhall. It practically shone. But the light seemed to be coming from *inside*. I couldn't describe the face except to say that it was beautiful, androgynous. It was clad in golden and it had wings. Golden wings.
It was *gone*
I rubbed my eyes. It was unbelievable.
So I kept this 'vision' to myself.
Chakotay and I made love after our date. We left the plates unwashed and went straight to the bedroom.
He rode me hard, so much so I saw stars exploding in front of me. It was wild passionate sex, extremely primal. Afterward, we both collapsed into bed, drained.
I guess we both fell asleep, Chakotay holding me. I slept, comforted by the purr in Chakotay's chest.
Around midnight, I woke up.
The golden figure was standing there again. This time, it stood right in front of the bed.
I sat right up.
This time, I could see the features more clearly, even though the room was pitch-dark.
The eyes were benevolent but sad. As if it bore bad news. They glimmered sapphire blue. The face was both masculine and feminine. Very beautiful. Long flowing golden hair drifted in some unseen unfelt breeze.
I wanted to shout out something. Yet I found my throat tight.
Chakotay slept on, blissfully unaware.
I gazed at the beautiful figure who smiled at me. There was an aura of purity, something holy. It flowed like a stream, touching me gently.
It was gone again.
I sat there in the dark, shaking. I thought I was seriously *losing* it.
I didn't tell anyone about the nightly visitation. Not even Chakotay whom I loved, adored, worshipped.
So I went about my way, pretending that nothing had really happened.
Then I saw it once more.
Oddly enough, I saw it when Ensign Fuller passed away.
I never knew what Ensign Fuller had contracted. Even 24th Century medicine seemed to fail in this matter. The day he came into Sickbay, sick and wan, I was helping the Doc.
He gasped and choked as the Doc tried to stabilize his degenerating immune system. The Doc looked vaguely pissed off with himself as he went through his entire repertoire of medical tools and stuff. I could only hold Fuller down, to prevent him from falling down the bio-bed.
"He's going into shock," the Doc said in his acerbic voice. "Mr Paris, please hand me that hypospray." He indicated the slim silver tool. I quickly took it and gave it to him.
Fuller gasped, his eyes glazed over.
There was nothing we could do.
The ensign was already in his death throes. I turned away. I am never comfortable with death. I guess nobody *is*. In the Maquis, I saw people die. For myself, I caused the deaths of friends. I should be comfortable, familiar with the idea of death. But frankly, I am afraid of it.
"He's dying," the Doc sounded pensive.
Then it appeared.
Still golden, still shimmering with the fluid light, it was holding the hand of Fuller who gazed up at the beautiful face with a soft smile. The wings fluttered. It smiled back, a glorious smile that was at once kind and sad.
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat.
The golden figure disappeared. Fuller died.
For the rest of the day, I was in a daze.
Chakotay met me after his shift.
We kissed and held hands.
"Tom," he rumbled comfortingly. "What's bothering you?"
I couldn't answer.
"Tom?" Chakotay smiled kindly and lifted my chin with his hand. "Baby?"
I looked at him. At his gentle mature face. At his dimples. His dark brown eyes were soft.
"Chakotay," I tentatively began. "Do you believe in angels?"
Chakotay regarded me with his kind smile. "When I was a child, yes."
"What do you mean?" I felt myself frowning. Chakotay hates me frowning but I did anyway.
"My mother used to tell me stories about angels but I outgrew those tales." Chakotay grinned. "Say, have you been seeing angels?" His voice was teasing.
I was quiet. If I told him, he might think I was only joking with him. Tom Paris --- practical joker. Nobody trusts Tom Paris. Whatever.
"No ..." I drew away from him.
"Tom?" Now he sounded worried. "What's wrong?"
"I am okay, Chak, okay?" I said.
And for the rest of the day, we didn't speak much.
It made another appearance again.
This time, it showed itself in my quarters.
I was dressing for the ballet recital in the Holodeck. Captain Janeway was performing 'the Dying Swan' from 'Swan Lake'.
There was a softness around the golden winged figure. The eyes shone but they seemed to be much sadder. But it was still beautiful.
I found my voice.
"Who are you?!" I demanded.
"I am Raphael." The voice that replied was musical. Gentle. Soothing. "I am here to ease your pain."
Pain? What pain?
"Who are you?!" I demanded once more, feeling the fury rise in my chest. Anger burned. I hated these visitations. They were scaring the hell out of me.
"Please. Thomas. Do not be afraid. I am here to help you."
"GO AWAY!" I yelled.
'Raphael' sighed. "Then I will leave. But you are never alone."
"GO AWAY!" I roared, furious.
When I finally turned around to check if the golden figure was still there, it had left.
I could swear I could see pity in its eyes.