Pairing: C/P C/others P/other
NC-17 ***WARNING*** This is NOT a nice story; there is rape and pain and psychological torture.
Set shortly after the Jonas incident.
Archive: Cha-club, TPDorm, and Paris Nights only.
Disclaimer: The boyz don't belong to me (all hail mighty paramount) but this story does!
Hostage by Morticia
Tom stood uncertainly in the bathroom of his quarters. The familiarity of the room astounded him and yet he knew in every atom of his body that he didnít belong here. The Tom Paris who had walked out of these quarters with such arrogance two months previously had died somewhere on an alien ship, alone and unmourned.
After the Captain had arranged a site-to-site transport for him and he had materialised here in the previous home of that ghost Tom Paris, he had gone into the tiny bathroom and stared for a long time at his face. He had gazed without recognition at the smooth pale skin and soft delicate lines of his features and finally had been lost in the wide blue gaze of his own eyes. They were no longer blank; instead they swirled with the deep desolate depths of an ocean. He drowned in his own alien reflection.
He was kítech now. It didnít matter that the burning in his veins had been quenched or that the heavy fog that had filled his brain for so long was finally lifting. Still, he WAS kítech.
Yet he was that most pathetic of all kítech. He was empty. They had stolen his only weapon and defence. He was kítech with no Bírechík. His body could no longer emit the siren song. He was alone. His Bírechík had never wanted him, and now he didnít even need him either.
He slowly unfastened the sickbay tunic that covered his chest and stared in desolation at his bare nipples. The Kítechínar had gone. He had been found wanting and the adornments had been cruelly ripped away from him.
Wiís words came back to him "You donít please the master," Wi had said "He has not given you the Kítechínar so you are still only meat."
Terror weakened Tomís knees and he folded himself down until he was curled on the cold tiled floor. He was meat, he was nothing, he had no Bírechík.
Youíre Lieutenant Tom Paris, the senior pilot of Voyager, you arenít kítech, a voice called to him desperately from within his own head, but it had no power over him because he knew the truth.
The Captain might mistake him for Tom Paris, he might even be able to live and play the role, but deep inside his heart he knew the truth. He was Tom the kítech, and his master no longer wanted him.
"I believe that both Mr Paris and the Commander are going to require extensive counselling before they can return to duty," the Doctor told the gathered officers.
Although Kathryn was still determined to protect the two men from public knowledge of their mutual sexual imperative, she still had to give SOME explanation of their long isolation in sickbay and the fact that they were physically so changed.
Tomís adaptation had, if anything, just made him cuter. He looked as harmless and pretty as a Risan playmate. Chakotay, on the other hand, was quite terrifying in appearance. It was not only his great size and harshly planed face that was intimidating; his midnight eyes now had basilisk sheen. To be honest, his black stare was oddly exciting. Stripped of his soft brown eyes, Chakotay was as imposing as a force of nature. He looked unstoppable.
To tell the truth, he now resembled the ruthless terrorist she had half-expected when she had been sent to catch the Crazy Horse. It wasnít that she had been disappointed to find that the Maquis Chakotay was actually a perfectly decent man, just surprised and bewildered. She had expected a black-eyed pirate, not a doe-eyed gentleman. The new Chakotay was far more interesting.
Over the past few weeks she had increasingly had to resist the urge to break her own quarantine restrictions and visit sickbay. She had lain in bed night after night, conjuring excuses for her visit only to wake the next morning ashamed and confused by her curiosity.
She wanted to watch, she wanted to see this stranger in Chakotayís body as he slaked his animal lust. She had found herself imagining Chakotay and Tom as they writhed together. She had wondered incessantly about the details. How did they do it? How did they achieve penetration without Chakotayís vast frame ripping Tomís delicate body apart?
She had felt pity for Tom, guilt over letting him be brought so low, and yet some part of her had envied him too. What would it be like to be able to give up all inhibitions and blindly seek sexual fulfilment without always being aware of rank and duty and consequence?
Yet she had resisted the urge, understanding it as being ill-conceived fantasy. She missed Mark, she missed the comfort and pleasure of sex, but she would never substitute it for the Captaincy of her own ship.
She would do everything in her power to help Chakotay and Tom get through this. Perhaps they would finally be brought together by the experience.
And if not, if Tom and Chakotayís chance of a normal relationship had been irrevocably destroyed by the experience, well then perhaps she would allow herself to give more thought to her fascination with Chakotayís black-eyed glare.
The insistent ringing of his door chime finally drove Tom to his feet. He had let the sound wash through and over him and yet it persisted until he couldnít pretend to ignore it anymore.
He reluctantly gave permission for entry.
A strange Bírechík entered and Tom dove to his knees, bowing his head in submission.
"Tom?" Harry asked, questioning both his appearance and his behaviour. The Captain had told them that the disease had physically changed Tom and that his experiences had undoubtedly left mental scars that would require counselling. However, she had refused to give any further details, saying that it would be Tomís choice whether to share the information.
Tom blushed and pulled himself to his feet. Itís Harry, he told himself, your friend.
Tom Parisís friend, the insidious voice replied. Heís Bírechík and youíre just a kítech. Then hope replaced his fear. Perhaps Harry wanted him now that Chakotay didnít.
"Am I yours now?" Tom asked quietly, trying to look as submissive and biddable as he could.
"Jeez, Tom, what the hell has happened to you?" Harry replied nervously.
Not only was Tom acting as though he barely recognised him but also he couldnít fail to notice that his friendís face, always enviably handsome anyway, had softened into a delicate almost ethereal beauty. Tomís eyes now seemed almost too large for his face, their blue depths staring at him with an odd mix of confusion, sadness and need.
Harry flushed uncomfortably. He had always found Tom nearly irresistible but had firmly hidden and controlled his feelings lest he ruin a friendship that meant more to him than he could ever explain.
He knew that Tom had a real problem with homosexuality. That had been evident enough from the way he had refused to accept his feelings for Chakotay. Harry wasnít as naïve as people thought. He had seen the definite sparks that had leapt between the two men. He had recognised in Chakotay the same love for Tom as he himself shared.
Only he had cloaked his desire with friendship and Chakotay had hidden his with indifference and occassional aggression.
He had seen the way Tom had reacted to Chakotay. As much as Tom might have denied his own feelings, still he had been as irresistibly drawn to the older man as a moth to a flame. He had constantly teased and taunted the Commander, throwing himself repeatedly in Chakotayís face, refusing to be ignored, preferring the aggression to the indifference and nurturing and feeding Chakotayís anger as though he fed off it.
It had broken Harryís heart to turn his back on Tom when the pilot had protested their apparent desertion of Chakotay. Only the Captainís direct order and his own knowledge that Tom was going after Chakotay anyway, had allowed him to deceive his best friend.
How unnecessarily frightened Tom must have been though, believing he was alone and abandoned. Surely the knowledge that Voyager would be waiting would have made his crazy rescue attempt that much easier to face.
Harry had comforted himself that at least Tom and Chakotay would have finally admitted their feelings to each other. He had expected to discover that they had left sickbay together and his own feelings of personal loss were nothing compared to his happiness that Tom had finally found someone who would love and appreciate him as much as he himself did.
Discovering that Chakotay had returned to his own quarters before Tom had even woken up and that Tom had then returned home alone, Harry had rushed to his friend and Tomís desolation seemed proof enough that his hopes for a happy returning couple had been wrong.
Tom was still looking at him with that little-boy-lost expression and it wrenched Harryís heart.
"Whereís Chakotay?" he asked Tom with deliberate lightness and scowled as he saw Tom flinch at the name.
"He doesnít want me anymore," Tom finally whispered and his eyes glistened with the threat of tears before he ducked his head in shame.
Fury rushed through Harry with volcanic force. Tom had risked his life for the bastard, had rescued him, been inflicted with some god-awful disease and then Chakotay had just shrugged and walked away? He couldnít believe it.
"Did you Ė did you and he - ?" Harry couldnít manage to say the words.
Tom began to tremble, nodded and then lost control of his tears. His delicate shoulders were suddenly wracked with convulsive sobbing.
Harry didnít stop to think, he threw his arms around Tom and hugged him tightly, his hands wrapping with ease around Tomís slight frame. Tom was no taller than him now and far more slender and he leant into the comfort of Harryís embrace as though he belonged there.
Harry was furious with Chakotay. He had obviously been mistaken about the Commander. Chakotayís passion hadnít been love, it had been lust. He had finally had what he wanted from Tom and had discarded him like a cheap whore.
Tom felt the strong Bírechík arms surrounding him and sank into the comfort. His hip brushed against Harryís groin and felt the unmistakable bulge of an erection. Relief nearly felled him. This Bírechík wanted him; this Bírechík would give him the Kítechínar.
He dove for Harryís lips and thrust his tongue eagerly inside. For a moment he stopped in confusion as the familiar tingle of essence failed to ignite on his tongue. Yet the Bírechík was holding him, comforting him, offering him salvation and so Tom responded in the only way he knew how and offered himself body and soul.
"Take me, make me yours," he pleaded through his tears.
Harry was a good man. He knew Tom was distraught and confused. He knew that Tom was only seeking a substitute for the Commander. He knew they would probably both bitterly regret this.
Yet, the illusive unobtainable man who had featured in all of Harryís wet dreams since the day they had first met on DS9 was finally begging him to take him.
Harry was only human, after all.
"It doesnít seem real," Chakotay said quietly.
"That you are back on Voyager?" Tuvok asked
"That it happened at all. I keep thinking itís just some crazy dream but then I see reflections of myself and they stagger me, or I pick something up and realise how large my hands are and it all floods back."
"Denial is an understandable and typical reaction to such trauma."
"I suppose I donít want to face what I did, let alone what happened to me. Itís not like me to run away from the truth but thatís what I keep doing."
"I greatly appreciate your permission for the mind-meld. I understand that it would have been almost impossible for you to verbally explain what happened to you. Allowing me to experience what happened to you in this way will not only speed our own counselling process but will help Tom also."
Chakotay flinched at Tomís name.
"You still have not spoken with him?" Tuvok asked mildly although he knew the answer. Still it was a way of making Chakotay face his largest problem.
"You know what I did to him, Tuvok. How can I ever apologise? There is nothing I can do or say that can possibly make anything right. Seeing me again is a slap in the face he doesnít need right now."
"You didnít do anything to him that he didnít agree to."
"Because of the disease, and he only caught it because he came to rescue me, so itís my fault."
"Why do you believe he did choose to rescue you?" Tuvok asked quietly.
"Some stupid sense of guilt," Chakotay replied.
"And was it guilt that made him risk his life to save you on Ocampa, too?" Tuvok queried
Chakotay frowned in thought. "He just wanted to have something to throw in my face. You saw the way he enjoyed the chance to rile me when he was flushing out Jonas. He hates me."
"He distinctly told you that he didnít. He said that he admired you. He said he hated the way you made him feel worthless." Tuvok reminded him.
"Then why has he always gone out of his way to piss me off?"
"Protective coloration perhaps, just as you have constantly held him at arms length with your attitude of indifference."
"Then you think that he does care about me?" Chakotay asked in disbelief.
"You yourself know that Tom had an extreme reaction to becoming a kítech. He became insanely jealous, terrified that you would be taken from him. This fear was so great that it infected you too. From what I have seen of the Bírechík they are not usually such slaves to their kítechís emotions. While your close confinement in the ship and then sickbay exacerbated the problem, I believe that it was not a natural Bírechík/kítech response at all.
"The disease removed your natural defences, made both of you give in to impulses that neither of you would have done so without its interference. The sexual imperative was physical, but I believe that Tomís emotional reaction was based on genuine feelings that were then blown out of proportion by the disease."
"So you are saying that even without the addiction, Tom may still have those feelings for me?"
"I believe it is probable. Your experiences have allowed those hidden feelings to emerge. Tom will find it more difficult to put them away again. You need to talk to each other. You both need closure and you also may find that there is now a chance for a new kind of relationship together."
Chakotay stared down at his overlarge hands. Could it be true? Was it possible that Tomís hurtful words had just been self-protection and denial? Had Tomís insane jealousy against Wi and Skan been due to genuine feelings of love rather than merely a symptom of the disease?
Was it possible that Tom would welcome his love, after all?
No, it was too much to hope for and the risk of rejection was too terrifying.
Then again, Tom had risked his life to save him. Surely he could risk his heart in return. The worst thing that could happen would be the confirmation of his fears. Was he too much of a coward to face Tomís possible hatred? Didnít he owe Tom some closure even if it ripped his own heart apart?
"Iíll go and talk to him," he finally told Tuvok.
Kathryn put another data padd on the pile of finished reports and sighed heavily as she realised that she was barely making a dent in the stack of unread ones. She hadnít truly been aware of how much work Chakotay did for her as First Officer. She had farmed out as many duties as possible but still a two-month backlog of reports glared at her accusingly from her desk.
It was late and she was too tired to carry on. She contemplated coffee but knew it would only give her a false buzz of energy and then prevent any true rest when she finally did go to bed.
Damn she missed Chakotay. Not only his work but also his support and companionship. He had probably been asleep for hours; there was little point in checking.
He was in the observation lounge, alone.
Genuine concern mingled with her own need for companionship and she made her way to find him. As she entered she was surprised to find the room unlit. His dark brooding presence loomed in the view port and she walked over to him quietly.
For a long time he ignored her, lost in his own contemplation of the passing stars, and then finally he turned and faced her. His black eyes glinted in the darkness with unshed tears.
Kathryn peered up at his face with difficulty; her chin barely reached his midriff now. His silent hulking body made her ache with sadness and shiver with a desire to be hugged into the comfort of his quiet strength.
"Whatís wrong, Chakotay?" she whispered softly.
Chakotay closed his eyes in pain. Kathrynís gentle query forced him to once again face the sight that had destroyed him.
He had gone to Tomís quarters and rung the chime with increasing impatience; sure that Tom was deliberately avoiding him. He had over-ridden the lock and entered. The lounge had been empty but he could hear the unmistakable sounds of passion from the bedroom.
He had wanted to run, to hide, but instead had found himself drawn to the closed door, less by curiosity than a need face the pain he knew awaited him.
He had pushed the door open and found Tom in bed with Harry Kim.