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"Shit."

Harry Kim came up behind Lt. Tom Paris in time to hear his disgruntled remark. "What's wrong?"

"This." Paris gestured irritably toward the computer display.

"What is it? Oh, are those the survival course assignments?"

"Yeah, damn it." Tuvok, in his role as Security Chief, had decided that the crew had grown soft from spending so many months in space, and had recommended that all personnel, regardless of rank, should take part in a series of team survival courses on the nearest Class-M planet. He had further decreed that the teams should consist of mixed senior and junior staff, and the crew assignments had just been posted.

Harry peered over his shoulder. "Who are you with?"

"Bateheart, Wilson from engineering and -- get this -- Chakotay," Paris said sourly. "Tuvok did this to me on purpose."

"I told you not to do that parody of Vulcan poetry at Talent Night," Harry reminded him.

"Who knew he'd show up?" Tom demanded. The corner of his mouth curved into a reluctant grin. "It was almost worth it though, to see the look on his face. Who'd you end up with?"

Harry pushed a few buttons, then tried to keep a straight face. "Uh, looks like it's me, B'Elanna, Megan Delaney and Sue Nicoletti."

"What?" Tom pushed forward to see for himself, then rocked back on his heels in disgust. "What a waste of talent. Don't ever tell me that Vulcans don't have a sense of humor."

"Thanks a lot!"

"No offense, Harry."

"I think Tuvok knew just what he was doing."

"So do I, and that's exactly my point."

***

An appropriate planet appeared within a few days. From a survival course standpoint, it was ideal. The air was breathable, the gravity near Earth standards and there were plenty of indigenous lifeforms but no intelligent life to interfere with. Best of all, because of its position relative to the large red sun, the geography showed an impressive variety. There were deserts and jungles, frozen wastelands and lush woodlands, mountains and seashores. And the weather was equally varied. The first scans indicated hurricanes, plasma storms, continent-wide blizzards and enormous sandstorms. Tuvok looked as pleased as it was possible for a Vulcan to look.

"You'd think he'd built the damn thing with his own two hands," groused Tom, after Tuvok had finished extolling the planet's perfections at a staff meeting.

Harry grinned. "I don't think you'd be so grouchy if you were going down with my team."

"Yeah, but I'm not, remember? Gods, Harry -- three days with Chakotay! It's going to seem like three months."

"I thought you two were getting along better."

"We were, I guess," he admitted as they stepped out of the turbolift and headed down the hall to the mess. "I mean, we play pool sometimes and he doesn't look at me like I was scum all the time."

"Just some of the time?"

"Something like that. Since that thing to smoke out Michael Jonas, we haven't exactly been buddies though."

"Cheer up. You could be going with Tuvok and Neelix."

Tom stopped in his tracks, a look of horror glazing his face. "Gods, I never thought of that. I guess it could be worse after all!"

***

The away missions began the next day. To keep from depleting the ship's company too much, the number of teams on the surface at any one time was limited to four. They were spread across the largest continent and were expected to remain for three days, with nothing but the basic supplies and equipment that they carried with them.

There was surprisingly little grumbling among the crew. After more than six weeks in space, without even a glimpse of another planet, most were treating the survival course as a kind of primitive shore leave. As the first teams returned, tanned and rested after their 'camping trips', morale rose. Even Paris found himself looking forward to the diversion. His team was among the last on the list.

Harry Kim had returned with a smug look on his face, and an absolute refusal to tell Tom anything about what had happened, which drove the pilot wild.

"C'mon, Harry," he cajoled as they sat in Sandrine's. "Just a hint?" Harry shook his head. "I promised the others I wouldn't say anything about... anything. You'll just have to find out for yourself."

"Right. Like I'm going to have any fun with the Commander and Bateheart."

"I understand that Wilson is a real wild one."

Tom choked on his synthale. Wilson was a shy, bespectacled little man from engineering, who lived and breathed warp core and neural gel packs. "Thanks a lot, Harry," he said when he could speak, as he mopped his shirt. "I'm going to send you my replicator bill."

"When do you go?"

"Tomorrow. You going to come see me off?"

"I'm supposed to play tennis on the holodeck with B'Elanna, Megan and Sue tomorrow. Sorry."

"The four of you have really become a hot item, haven't you."

A hint of a complacent smile crossed Harry's good-natured features. "We're just friends, Tom."

"And if I believe that, you have some Lobi crystals you've like to sell me cheap, right? Some people have all the luck." Tom drained his glass and pushed away from the table. "I guess I'd better go get ready. We're beaming down at 1100. See you when I get back." With a wave of his hand he was gone.

Harry settled back in his chair, more than satisfied with the impression he had created. B'Elanna dropped into the seat Paris had vacated.

"He didn't look too happy. What have you been telling him?"

"Nothing -- and it's driving him crazy." B'Elanna laughed.

"You're an evil man, Starfleet. You know there's nothing to tell."

"You know that and I know that -- but he doesn't know that!"

***

Paris showed up in the transporter room promptly at 1058 the next morning, wearing the silvery away-mission uniform and with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He dropped the pack and glanced around in surprise. Wilson and Chakotay were already waiting -- and the Captain, who looked very nice indeed in the skintight silver uniform, he noted appreciatively.

"What's up? Where's Bateheart?"

"He came down with the Andorian flu," Janeway answered. "I'm taking his place."

"You, Captain?"

"Certainly. Tuvok did say 'regardless of rank'."

"I guess he did at that. Glad to have you along, Captain. You can carry the heavy stuff."

"Thank you, Mister Paris." They exchanged grins.

Tuvok, standing at the transporter controls, looked disapproving at this unprofessional exchange, and Chakotay didn't seem any too happy either, Tom noticed with a smirk. Wilson just looked terrified at finding himself in such high-ranking company.

They took their positions on the transporter pad as Tuvok fiddled with the controls. He looked up with a frown.

"There is a massive plasma storm on the surface that is interfering with the transporter signals."

"Can you compensate?"

"I am attempting to do so now." More adjustments. They waited patiently. "Where are we going, Captain?" Tom asked curiously.

"To a desert region near the equator in the southeastern part of the continent."

He stifled a sigh. Wonderful. Blistering heat, sand, scorching sun... and Chakotay. Oh, it was going to be a fun trip all right.

"I believe that I have managed to compensate for the interference," Tuvok announced.

"Get on with it then," Janeway ordered.

"Energizing."

There was the familiar tingle, like a mild electric shock, then the transporter room shimmered and disappeared. But no new scene took its place. Tom had the uncomfortable sensation that his atoms were disconnecting and speeding off in all directions, and realized with a shock that something was very wrong.

Before he could do more than register the thought, his molecules began to reassemble and he felt ground beneath his feet. Reality flickered into being. But it was no hot desert landscape that appeared before his eyes. All he could see was white, and for a panicky instant he thought that something had gone wrong with his vision. Then the cold hit him and he knew that he had been beamed into the middle of a blizzard.

Blinking away the blowing snow, he turned to look for the others. His eyes were useless in the white-out condition and he reached out, blindly groping about him. His hand brushed against an arm, and he latched onto it and pulled it -- and its owner -- into view.

"Captain! Are you all right?"

Janeway hung onto Paris as a powerful gust of wind nearly knocked her off her feet. He put a strong arm around her waist and held her tightly.

"I'm fine, Tom," she said, shouting to be heard over the gale.

The wind whipped her hair across her face and she shook her head impatiently. "We have to look for the others."

"Wait a minute. I'll hook us together. If we get separated, we'll never find each other again." He dragged his pack around to the front and rummaged through it with one hand, breathing a sigh of relief when the coil of rope came to hand quickly. He tied it onto Janeway's belt and then onto his own, giving the knots an extra tug. As he did so, someone bumped into them and they both grabbed and held on. Wilson.

The little man looked up at them with pathetic relief.

"Captain! What happened? How did we get here?"

"I don't know yet. We need to find the Commander first."

Tom tried to shield his eyes from the snow as he peered around intently. These damned silver suits were almost invisible in this blizzard, he thought with a sinking feeling. The more familiar black uniforms would have been a hell of a lot easier to see. "Commander!" he yelled. His words were whisked away immediately.

"Chakotay!" Janeway echoed his calls, followed by Wilson's high-pitched yelp. "At the same time!" she commanded, and they all shouted together.

Miraculously, it worked. During a brief lull in the deafening wind, they heard an answering cry.

"Over here," Paris yelled. They redoubled their efforts. After a heart-stopping interval, a ghostly figure loomed out of the shifting whiteness. Eager hands reached out, grabbing the big man and pulling him to safety. Safety? It was a relative word right now.

Janeway was gripping both Chakotay's arms tightly and looking up into his face, her brow creased with worry.

"Are you all right?" she asked in concern.

"I'm fine, Captain," he managed to say. "And damned glad to see you all. Have you contacted Voyager?"

"Not yet. I'll try now."

She tapped the comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager. Do you read me?" There was a tiny crackle. Encouraged, she bent her head, trying to hear through the howling wind. The three men huddled closely around her to give her as much shelter as possible. She tried again.

"Janeway to Voyager. Do you read me?"

Tuvok's voice, faint and broken with static, came to them. "Ion surge... transporter malfunction."

"Can you get us back?" she shouted.

More static, then -- blessedly -- a moment of clear communication. "We have only enough power to take one person at a time, and I am uncertain as to how long the break in the storm will last."

"Take Ensign Wilson first," she ordered. Within seconds, Wilson began to dematerialize, his face locked into an expression of wide-eyed terror as he vanished.

"Ensign Wilson is safely aboard, Captain," came Tuvok's calm voice. "But the ion storm is intensifying. I doubt that we will be able to get more than one more out at this time."

"Understood. Take Lt. Paris."

"Captain, no!" Tom protested.

"That's an order," she said in steely tones, and he subsided.

But the instant that he felt the familiar tingle, he grabbed his comm badge and ripped it off, then slapped it onto the captain's shoulder and stepped back. Before she could open her mouth to object, she too had shimmered and vanished. The cut end of the rope that had connected them snapped straight out behind him as the gale increased. Tom staggered and was caught by a powerful hand grasping his arm. He looked up to see reluctant approval in Chakotay's enigmatic dark eyes.

"Good work, Paris," was all he said, but Tom felt an involuntary glow inside. The Commander's words of praise were few and far between, at least where he was concerned.

Chakotay tapped his comm badge, turning his back to the wind in an attempt to hear. "Chakotay to Voyager!"

There was a burst of static. Both men leaned in, straining to catch the words.

"Capt... safe. Storm worse... unable... try later." Then it went dead. Their eyes met. "Looks like we're on our own," Chakotay said grimly. "We have to find shelter or we'll freeze."

Paris pulled out his tricorder and slowly turned in a circle. He could feel Chakotay's hand on him at all times. To lose contact now would probably be fatal. He stopped and pointed.

"There's a rocky mass over there," he shouted. "Mountains."

"Let's go." They started their battle toward shelter. It was a brutal journey. They were not heading directly into the wind, which was some comfort, but it hit them from the side, knocking them off-balance and diverting them from their path. Tom, lighter in weight, was blown off his feet twice before Chakotay pulled him around to his other side, giving the pilot what shelter he could with his own larger body.

They staggered on, checking the tricorder frequently to make sure they stayed on course. Tom stumbled again and fell heavily. His feet had gone numb with the cold. The suits they wore were intended to reflect the heat of a desert sun. They would do little to insulate them from this arctic blast. He gritted his teeth and dragged himself up with Chakotay's help. He'd be damned if he'd give up one second before the Maquis did.

They were as blind as if they have been wearing hoods, completely dependant upon the tricorder readings to guide them to their destination. And when at last they did reach the mountains, the rocky cliffs loomed so suddenly out of the driving snow that they almost ran into them.

After the unprotected wasteland that they had been crossing, the jagged meter-high rocks at the base of the cliff were a welcome relief. They crouched in their small shelter, blowing on their frozen hands and trying to catch their breaths in the thin icy air. Chakotay pulled out his tricorder, swearing to himself when his cold-numbed fingers refused to work right. He aimed it toward the rocky face of the cliff and bent low against the snow to study the readout.

"W-w-well?" Tom asked impatiently, trying to control his chattering teeth.

There was silence for another long moment, then Chakotay pointed upward and to his left. "There's an opening of some kind up there. It could be a cave."

"What are we waiting for?" But they stayed where they were for a few more minutes, reluctant to leave even the illusion of shelter. At last Chakotay took a deep breath.

"Let's go."

The gale seemed worse after the brief respite. Breathing was difficult, if not impossible, as the relentless wind snatched the air from their lungs. They climbed by touch, stumbling and sliding on the icy rocks. Slowly, step by grueling step, they groped their way upward.

They had ascended perhaps 25 feet, although it felt like miles, when Tom lost his footing entirely as the shelf of rock crumbled beneath him. His feet skidded out from under him and he threw up his hands as he felt himself beginning to hurtle down the steep jagged cliff. He had an instant to realize with a slight feeling of surprise that he was going to die when an iron hand clamped onto his outflung wrist and arrested his fall. He slammed full-length into the rockface below, driving all the breath from his body. For a second, he was too dazed to move and hung limply from the rescuing hand.

"Paris! Are you all right?"

He shook his head, trying to clear it, then reached for the rocks and clung, taking his weight from Chakotay's grasp.

"I'm okay -- just winded," he managed to gasp out. He began to struggle back up and with Chakotay's help finally stood on the narrow ledge again. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to regain his breath, aware of the other man's arm around him, steadying him. After a second he straightened.

"Thanks, Chakotay. I owe you one."

"Does this pay for the time in the Ocampan caves?"

Paris gave a faint grin. "It might at that. I'll have to think about it."

"Are you ready to go on?"

"Excelsior."

"I don't think it's much farther."

"No problem. I'm just getting my second wind."

"Uh huh."

Despite his cavalier words, Tom felt like he had been stomped by a herd of Targs. There was a sharp pain in his chest every time he took a breath, though whether it was from the fall or from the bitter cold he couldn't tell.

Chakotay had been right. The entrance to the opening was only a few yards further on. It proved to be a narrow vertical slit in the jagged cliff. Getting into it would mean stepping off the ledge they were on and going around a projecting spur of rock with a sheer thirty foot drop below. It would be tricky at the best of times and almost impossible under these conditions.

"I'm going to take a look," Chakotay shouted, gesturing toward the dark opening, and Paris nodded.

Chakotay pulled out his wrist light and fastened it in place, then tied a rope to his belt. Tom wound the end several times around a tooth of rock and gave a thumbs-up sign. Moving cautiously and with Paris playing out the rope, Chakotay reached around the spur, sliding his body over it, then following with his foot until he was hugging the rock. He groped for footing and found a toehold. Momentarily secure, he aimed the light into the entrance.

It was indeed a cave -- dry and narrow, with a drifting of snow at the entrance. No bones or other debris showed any signs of animal habitation. With difficulty, he turned his head.

"Looks good," he croaked. "Loosen the rope and I'll go on in, then give you a hand."

"Be careful." Paris unwound the rope from the rock, but tied the end to his own belt. Chakotay shook his head.

"Too dangerous," he shouted.

"Tough! Get moving," Tom yelled back.

Chakotay capitulated. There was no time to waste. Already his hands and feet were stiff with cold, making the climb much more dangerous. It would only get worse.

With infinite patience, he inched his way around the sharp ridge. The worst part came when he was forced to take his foot off of the ledge behind before he had a firm support in the cave ahead. He gritted his teeth, shot a brief prayer skyward, and let go, searching frantically for a toehold.

He found one and used it to propel himself forward, into the relative shelter of the cave. For a second he sprawled, eyes closed, out of the deafening wind.

"Chakotay!" He roused himself at the anxious voice.

"I'm in," he called back. "Come on. I'll help you."

"I hope you mean it." A hand, blue with cold, appeared followed by the toe of a boot. Chakotay kept a tight grip on the rope that ran between them, taking up the slack as Paris moved closer. A shoulder came into view and a leg, then a white face, the lashes matted with snow.

Seeing the exhaustion stamped there, Chakotay reached out and put a strong arm around the other's waist and dragged him bodily the rest of the way into the shelter. They collapsed in a heap, too drained to think or move. They were -- for the moment -- safe.

Chakotay regained his senses first, as he became aware of the dead weight on top of him, covering him. Dead weight. The thought shook him to instant consciousness.

"Paris? Tom, are you all right?"

To his heartfelt relief, there was movement in the limp form.

"Yeah, I'm okay," came the foggy reply. "But since I'm too tired to move, I've decided to spend the rest of my life just like this. So if you could just be still for a few years...?"

An incredulous smile flickered over the First Officer's face. Even half-frozen, Paris was a wise guy.

"Sorry, you'll have to get up. You make a lousy blanket. Besides, I thought I'd turn on the heat."

That got his attention. "Heat? How? There's no wood here."

Chakotay gave him a shove and he rolled away. "No, no wood, but plenty of boulders to heat with the phaser."

Paris groaned. "I forgot about that. I must be slipping."

"That's why you're still just a lieutenant. Now get out of the way." Chakotay stood, wincing as his strained muscles screamed in protest. He unsnapped the rope from his belt and looked around. The cave meandered back into the mountain for about fifteen meters before dwindling to nothing. The floor was littered with rocks and boulders of various sizes. He selected one about a meter high that was well back from the entrance and turned his phaser on it, on a low setting.

The rock began to glow, first just in the center, then all over as Chakotay moved the phaser to cover the entire surface. Paris stood swaying at his shoulder and he spared him an anxious glance. The pilot might have been joking, but he was obviously at the end of his strength. His face was paper-white and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

"Just another minute," Chakotay promised.

"Take your time, Commander."

Already the heat had begun to reach them. Tom took an involuntary step forward, unable to resist its call. The boulder was glowing an all-over dull orange, and the air around it shimmered with the radiant heat. Chakotay turned off the phaser and they huddled closer, soaking up the blessed warmth until feeling began to return to their limbs.

"Get out the packs and let's see what we have," Chakotay ordered when they could move again.

Each member of the team carried a phaser and a tricorder, a battery-operated lamp, a medkit, a pocketknife, a thermal blanket and a groundcover, plus a liter of water and three ration bars for emergencies. They were expected to live off the land as much as possible. No one had prepared for a situation like this.

Tom said as much as he pulled the blankets out. "We're going to be damned hungry if Voyager doesn't get us soon. Not a root or berry in sight."

Chakotay shook his head in disgust. "I forgot all about Voyager. Maybe they can get a lock on us now." He pressed his comm badge and Tom watched hopefully.

But repeated attempts brought only static, and at last he gave up. "I guess we're on our own for a while longer." He eyed Paris. "How are you doing?"

"I think I'll live."

"You're bleeding." Frowning, he reached out to touch a cut on the pilot's cheek. Tom jerked back, then grinned in embarrassment.

"Sorry. Reflex action." He hurriedly changed the subject.

"You're bleeding too, if it comes to that."

"I am?" Chakotay put his hand to his own face and looked down in astonishment as his hand came away smeared with blood.

"Yep, your face and your hands both. See?"

"So are you. We must have scraped them on the rocks, but not noticed it because the skin was numb. That's why the cuts didn't bleed before, too. The blood vessels were constricted with cold."

Paris winced. "I must be warming up then. I'm starting to hurt all over."

"I'm not surprised. That was some beating you took when you fell."

"Not half as bad as it could have been. Thanks for the assist."

"My pleasure." He examined the younger man. Color had begun to return to the pale face, but lines of pain had appeared. "When we get a little warmer, I want to see how badly you're hurt."

"I'm fine."

"That was an order."

"Yeah, yeah." He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.

Chakotay rummaged through his pack and pulled out the medkit.

He poked experimentally at a tube of antibiotic ointment. Frozen solid. He emptied the contents and lined them up on the ground near the glowing boulder. He picked up the hypospray and loaded a vial of pain killer that was intact and unfrozen.

"Hold still." He pressed the hypo against Paris' neck and pushed the plunger. There was a brief hiss. Tom looked up in annoyance.

"What the hell was that?"

"A painkiller."

"You might have asked."

"I didn't feel like arguing."

"And you assumed that I would argue?"

"You usually do."

"I do not!"

"Right." Chakotay stretched out on the ground with his arms crossed behind his head. Now that he was warming up, he felt an almost overpowering lethargy. Reaction, he supposed, from the cold and the exertion. He closed his eyes for a second.

Only to be shaken awake by Paris.

"Chakotay? Hey, Commander!"

He blinked his eyes open. "What is it?" he asked in irritation. "Can't I rest for a minute?"

"A minute? It's been more than an hour."

"It has?" Chakotay sat up. A quick check of his chronometer proved Paris' words, but he wasn't mollified. "Well, so what? Do you have a pressing engagement of some kind?"

Tom's face hardened almost imperceptibly. "It's getting pretty cold in here again. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't gone into a coma or something."

"So heat the damned rock up some more."

"I was going to," he said in carefully controlled tones. "That's why I woke you up. If I had tried it before, you'd have been cooked."

Chakotay glanced down. He had turned over in his sleep until his body was wrapped around the warm stone. He ran an embarrassed hand through his cropped hair.

"Sorry, Paris." He frowned. "It is getting colder in here again. At this rate the charge on the phasers won't last 48 hours."

"I had a thought," Paris said warily. "There are a lot of rocks in here. If we could block up the entrance with some of them, it would keep the wind out and make it easier to heat this place. I tried to start while you were asleep, but the biggest ones need to go at the bottom and I couldn't move them."

Chakotay nodded. "It's a good idea. And that would clear out some more floor space for us. But before we start any heavy lifting, I want to check to see how much damage you did to yourself in that fall. Lay down."

"I told you -- I'm fine."

"You could have broken a rib."

"I think I would have noticed," he said sarcastically.

"Do it, Lieutenant."

Paris' lips tightened. Without another word, he lay down on the rocky ground, arms crossed over his chest, face as stony as the ground.

Chakotay looked at him in exasperation. What the hell was wrong with the man? "If you wouldn't mind moving your arms," he suggested with scathing politeness. Tom uncrossed his arms and put them at his sides. "Can you put them behind your head please."

Paris started to raise his arms, then stopped with a grimace of pain. "No, sorry." His arms dropped to his sides again.

Chakotay slid the zipper down the front of the uniform to Paris' waist, then eased the undershirt up to expose his chest.

"Damn."

"You might want to work on that bedside manner," Paris jeered. "What's wrong?"

"You look like someone worked you over with a sledgehammer, that's what. You can't tell me that doesn't hurt."

Tom closed his eyes. "Fine. I won't tell you."

The irritation Chakotay felt was swallowed up by concern. Paris' chest was a nightmarish array of blue and purple, slashed with red where the skin had been scraped away through his clothing. The pilot must have hit the rockface with a great deal of force, he realized, and then skidded sideways before coming to a stop. If he hadn't broken a rib, it would be a miracle.

"I'm going to check for broken bones," he said. "Tell me if it hurts." He lay his hand on the younger man's chest, noticing the sudden intake of breath as he did so, and pressed. Paris winced.

"All right, tell me where it hurts the most," Chakotay amended. "Sorry, Paris."

"Just get it over with."

They proceeded in near silence. Chakotay moved methodically along each rib, probing firmly. Twice Paris stopped him when the pain sharpened. At last the Maquis finished his examination and rubbed antibiotic ointment into the raw scrapes. He pulled the undershirt down and sat back with a sigh.

"Well, it isn't as bad as it looks," he admitted. "I think you cracked two ribs, but nothing is broken outright."

"Told you," Tom muttered, sitting up with an effort and starting to zip up the uniform.

"Before you do that, I want to bandage those ribs to hold them in place."

Paris rolled his eyes, but amazingly made no protest. "What do I have to do now?"

"Just sit up straight and be still for a few minutes." He pulled the elastic bandages out of the two packs and unwrapped them. "You need to strip to the waist."

"Do you suppose we could turn the heat up first?" he asked with pointed irony. "It's a little chilly to be sitting around half-naked."

Chakotay kept his temper with difficulty. It wasn't the request so much as the tone of voice that raised his hackles. The sneering smart-ass was back and pressing all of his superior's buttons. Without replying, he pointed his phaser at the rock and fired. The rock began to glow again, and the air gradually warmed. He snapped the phaser off.

"Better, Lieutenant?" he asked solicitously.

Paris didn't answer. He unzipped the uniform again and struggled with gritted teeth to pull his arms free. When Chakotay came to his aid, his eyes flashed but he held his tongue and allowed him to peel the tight sleeves down and off.

Getting out of the undershirt was even worse. In the end, Chakotay had to undress him as though he were a child, drawing his hands carefully through the sleeves and pulling it off over his head. Tom knew his face was flaming by the time they were finished and avoided the older man's eyes. To be as helpless as an infant and to be forced to have Chakotay, of all people, take care of him! Humiliation threatened to choke him. Perversely, the embarrassment also made him angry.

"Raise your arms as much as you can," Chakotay ordered. "I'm going to strap those ribs."

"Save the play-by-play and just get on with it, Commander," he snapped. Chakotay fought the urge to slap that annoying face.

Paris brought out the absolute worst in him, he knew. He wondered what had prompted this latest display. The pilot had been almost human after they had been marooned, right up until he had decided to check his injuries. The realization struck him. Until he had decided to check Paris' injuries. What was it about that that had set him off? He didn't seem like the shy type.

He studied him narrowly as he set the end of the bandage in place. It was hard to tell anything in front, because of the disfiguring scrapes and bruises, but he examined him closely as he slowly wrapped the bandage around the lean torso. His scrutiny was soon rewarded. Scars, so faint he would have missed them if he hadn't been looking, crossed his back and wrapped around his sides onto his chest. He said nothing as he wound the bandage into place and fastened it off, then put the shirt over the pilot's blonde head.

"Give me your hand." He pulled it through the armhole, then repeated the process with the other hand. He worked by rote, his brow creased with worry as he thought furiously.

The scars looked like the result of a beating -- too regular to be accidental, and criss-crossing over his entire back. They were obviously old. That let out the New Zealand penal colony. (Tuck the shirt in and guide one hand into the sleeve of the uniform.) The Maquis? No, he'd have known, and he thought the scars predated that by a long time anyway. Hazing at the academy? Impossible. That sort of thing had been wiped out a century ago. (Now the other hand and the other sleeve. Gently -- he knew how much it must hurt, although Paris hadn't made a sound.) That just left... childhood.

The thought stunned him. He worked automatically, pulling the uniform into place and zipping it up. He had always despised Paris for his 'easy' life -- a life that he had apparently thrown away with a casual deliberation that had filled Chakotay with disgust. Maybe it hadn't been so easy after all. Maybe...

"Commander!" The word was spoken loudly and with obvious irritation. He looked up guiltily.

"What?"

"I said, are you ready to start moving rocks?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He stood, brushing himself off. "I want you to take it easy though. Let me do most of the lifting. Don't risk causing any more damage."

Paris stared at him incredulously. "You're worried about me? I must be worse off than I thought." He struck a pose. "C'mon, Doc, you can give it to me straight. How long do I have?" The mocking tone snapped Chakotay out of his reverie.

"Too damned long," he said shortly. "Let's get to it."

But the Maquis made sure that he did the majority of the work, shouldering Paris aside and lifting the boulders himself when he could, and leaving the smaller rocks to the other. An hour's work had the narrow opening filled and they could tell a difference immediately.

"Just not having that wind blowing in here makes it seem warmer already," Tom noticed with satisfaction as he flipped on the emergency light to dispel the darkness that now filled the cave. Now that the danger of exposure had apparently passed, he had again reverted to the more likeable person that he had been earlier.

"And there's more clear floor space," Chakotay pointed out. "Fewer rocks to lie on." They seated themselves on the groundcovers beside their 'stove', wrapping themselves in the blankets, and Paris looked at his commanding officer expectantly.

"So what now, Chief? I mean Commander."

"Chief? Where did that come from?"

Tom grinned. "It's what some of the crew calls you."

"Who came up with it -- you?"

"How'd you guess?"

"It just figured somehow," he said resignedly.

"Do you mind?"

"No," he said honestly, after a moment's thought. "I don't suppose I do." He smiled, his lips curving up in genuine amusement. "Actually, it's a lot better than some of the things I assumed that you called me behind my back."

Paris laughed outright, leaning back against the cave wall. "You got that right. I'll spare you some of the others."

"Thanks a lot."

"The question still stands. What now?"

The First Officer made himself more comfortable and shrugged. "There aren't too many choices, are there? Until Voyager can get us out of here..." He paused to tap his comm badge, and sighed with regret but not much surprise when there was no answer. "...we're stuck. We don't have to worry about water, obviously, but food is going to get to be a problem in a couple of days. The power cells on the phasers and the lamps won't last forever either, so we're going to have to be as sparing of them as possible."

"Boy, you're a real bundle of joy, aren't you? I meant more along the lines of 'what can we do right now?' not day after tomorrow."

"Sleep? Sing camp songs? Play tic tac toe? If you have any other ideas, I'd be glad to hear them."

"Tell dirty jokes? Or I guess we could just talk," he suggested. Chakotay hid his surprise.

"I guess we could," he agreed. "It doesn't even take light, so we can save the batteries on the lamp." He switched it off, and the sudden darkness seemed thick and black at first. Then, as their eyes grew accustomed to it, they became aware of faint patches of lighter darkness, coming through the chinks in the wall they had built, and a dim orange glow from the heated boulder.

"Tell me something, Commander. How did you feel when you saw who was assigned to your team for this jolly little mission?"

Chakotay chuckled. "Just exactly the same way you did, I imagine. Like I was going to get Tuvok for this if it was the last thing I ever did."

There was a snort from beside him. "Ain't it the truth. And did you see who Harry Kim was assigned with? Gods, life just isn't fair."

"No, but I think Tuvok had the right idea there. It would hardly be fair to make Delaney and Nicoletti battle you as well as the elements."

"Hey, I can be nice." A reminiscent note crept into his voice. "Our team did get better though. Boy, the captain looked great in that outfit."

"Paris..."

"No offense intended -- but she did look good!" he insisted, unrepentant.

Chakotay cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I wanted to thank you for what you did -- putting your comm badge on her like that."

"I had to," he said simply, completely serious for once. "I knew she wouldn't leave until the very last, and I couldn't let her go through this. It would have been too hard on her -- she's so little! But she'd never admit it."

"She's stubborn, all right. Anyway, it was a courageous thing to do." Tom laughed, a small bell of sound in the darkness.

"You mean because she'll throw me in the brig when we get back?"

"She might at that. No, I just meant that I wouldn't have blamed you for taking the chance to get out of this frozen hell."

"And leave the captain?" There was real indignation in his voice, and Chakotay could feel him sit up straighter at his side. "Do you really think I'd have been that big a bastard?"

"No, I..."

Paris swept on, his voice growing louder and angrier as he spoke. "She got me out of prison, gave me a chance -- believed in me when no one else in the entire galaxy, including my own revered father, did. And you think that I'm such a coward that I would save myself and leave her here to maybe freeze to death? Shit, Commander, I knew you didn't like me but I thought you gave me more credit than that."

He was furious now, almost throwing off sparks. Chakotay hastened to calm him down.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, and I'm sorry if it sounded that way. I know that you'd do anything for her -- you've proved that again and again."

"I'd die for her," came the low passionate response.

"You may just get the chance," he said grimly. "Anyway, I apologize. It was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry."

He could feel the pilot subside slightly at his side. "It's all right. I haven't exactly given you any reason to think highly of me, but I thought maybe you knew that I'd do anything for her."

"I did know." He hesitated, then plunged on. It was a little easier to say in the dark somehow. "In fact, that was the only reason that I didn't write you off as a lost cause. She trusts you completely, and she is almost never wrong about people. And even I knew that your loyalty to her was beyond question."

"Even you," Tom echoed ironically. "That about sums it up, doesn't it?"

"I didn't mean it that way."

The younger man sighed. "I know you didn't. It's just the truth, that's all. You never did trust me."

Was he imagining a wistful note in that voice, Chakotay wondered. He felt his way forward in the conversation cautiously. "You didn't give me much reason to, did you?"

"No, not at first. But it's been almost two years. How many times do I have to prove myself to you anyway?" In the dim light, Chakotay could see him lean forward, hugging his knees and staring pensively at the faintly glowing rock.

***

"Nothing I ever did was good enough for you, was it? I saved your life on Ocampa, then damned near got myself killed going undercover and getting myself captured by the Kazon to smoke out the traitor. But it's like nothing I could ever do would be good enough to erase that preconceived idea you had about me."

"What idea was that?" Chakotay asked quietly, although he already knew the answer.

"What idea? The one that made you think that I was some sort of privileged brat that had it easy all his life, and then threw away a Starfleet career because I was a coward and a liar. The one that made it easy for you to believe that I could turn traitor on a whim when I joined the Maquis, and that I had turned traitor again when I agreed to help the captain find you in the Badlands. That preconceived idea, Commander. Am I wrong?"

Chakotay was so taken aback by the throb of self-hatred in that low voice that he couldn't answer for a moment. The silence lengthened between them. At last he let out a long sigh.

"No, you're not wrong, Paris. I did think those things. From the first time I heard about you -- the Admiral's son who had falsified records to save his own skin -- I... despised you." There. He had said it. He continued haltingly. "I couldn't understand how -- why you did it. And then when you admitted it..." He stopped, struck by his own words.

"You admitted it," he said slowly. "No one accused you. You came forward, didn't you? There wasn't anyone else left to say anything." He turned in the dark, his voice earnest. "You came forward and told the panel what you had done, about falsifying the records. Why? You were home free. Why did you tell them?"

"Because I'm a spoiled self-serving bastard, remember?" he sneered. Chakotay shook his head, too preoccupied to even hear the cynicism.

"It's because you couldn't live with yourself, isn't it?"

"Are you accusing me of having a conscience?" he asked, voice dripping with irony. "Watch it, Commander, you'll start thinking I'm almost human next."

Chakotay ignored him, intent on his own thoughts. "You turned yourself in. You weren't found out. Why didn't I see that before? But what made you falsify the records in the first place?" he demanded urgently, turning on Paris so suddenly that the pilot shied away. "If you couldn't live with yourself afterwards, why the hell did you do it to begin with?"

Tom stared at him. There was just enough light for Chakotay to see the wariness, the conflict and the uncertainty in his face, the indecision as he struggled for an answer. In the end, he settled for the simplest response -- the truth.

"I was scared," he said in a voice so low that Chakotay could barely make out the words. "That's the bottom line, Commander. I was scared. Happy now?"

"Tell me what happened," he said quietly, afraid to break the spell. "Please. I want to know."

"Why the hell does it matter?"

"Humor me, okay?" Then more gently, "I need to know the truth, Tom. Please."

Paris sighed, his eyes looking three years into the past. "Shit, I don't know. It all happened so fast. I misjudged the distance on a tricky maneuver and suddenly there was this huge fireball. I was lead ship and escaped. The others... didn't." A shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the cold.

"It was my fault, no doubt about it. My fault, but the others paid for my mistake. I think I must have been in shock for a while. I don't remember exactly what I said -- something about misjudging the distance. But when I woke up in the hospital, they'd thought I had meant that one of the other pilots had been the one to make the mistake. I... I just didn't correct them." He bowed his head and rested it on his knees, rocking back and forth slightly. Against his will, Chakotay felt sorry for the unhappy man.

"But you did correct them in the end, didn't you?" he asked gently. Paris raised his head, and the other could see the misery there. "I didn't want to," he whispered. "I didn't want to admit to them -- to myself -- that my mistake had killed three people. So when they brought the papers for me to fill out, all the questions and the forms and everything in triplicate, I just stuck to the same story. I was so scared. I knew what would happen if I told the truth. I knew what my father would do." He tried to laugh. "He already thought I was the world's biggest screwup. Guess he was right after all, huh?" He laid his forehead on his knees again. The rocking increased.

Chakotay frowned. This was getting into deep waters and he wasn't a counselor. But he had the sinking feeling that they had gone too far to turn back. He tried again.

"Paris -- Tom... You did tell the truth, didn't you? Even knowing what would happen. That's what counts."

He turned his head, seeming too exhausted to even lift it. "Is it? Virtue wasn't exactly its own reward, Commander. You know what happened. Dishonorable discharge, my career in ruins. I wasn't court martialled, thanks to my father's pull."

"So you joined the Maquis."

A tired nod. "I had to. I had to fly, Chakotay, and where else could I do it? I sure couldn't get a job as pilot anywhere else after that." Another sigh. "That didn't work out either though. Getting captured the first time out." There was a flash of spirit. "Those ships of yours were pieces of junk. Anyone else would have been killed."

"You just crashed and were captured."

"Yeah. Lucky me." A wry smile crossed his face. "Even my father couldn't get me out of that one -- not that he tried very hard. He came to see me while I was still in the hospital and announced that he didn't want to have anything more to do with me. Then he was conveniently out of the system when my trial came up. The only time that I've seen him since then was at the hearing when the captain asked for permission to take me on Voyager." He didn't speak for a long second. "He voted no," he finished quietly.

Chakotay was silent. There didn't seem to be much that he could say. They sat in silence as the moments lengthened. Chakotay, busy with his jumbled thoughts, stared at the dim red stone in front of him. Tom bumped against his arm, then moved away. A second later the same thing happened again. Curious, the big Maquis turned to his companion.

Tom was almost asleep sitting up, instinctively jerking himself back to near-consciousness whenever he felt himself falling. Chakotay mentally berated himself. It had been a hell of a day, and Paris was injured. He -- they -- needed sleep. He put a cautious hand on the pilot's shoulder.

"Tom? Lay down and go to sleep. Paris?"

"Hmmm?" came the sleepy murmur. Chakotay sighed and moved out of the way, then guided Paris down onto the groundcovers they were sitting on. He looked at the sleeping man ruefully. They had put the two groundcovers one on top of the other for added protection against the frozen ground, and now there seemed no way to separate them. Oh well, they could use the extra heat that would come from huddling together.

Moving gingerly, he positioned himself behind Paris, fitting himself loosely against the curve of his back, then pulled the two blankets over them both. He overcame a feeling of unease at the pilot's closeness. They didn't dare waste the phaser to heat the boulder again so soon, so this was the only alternative. It wouldn't kill him.

He raised his head and looked down at the pilot as though for the first time. Sleeping, Paris was completely different. Younger. Defenseless. The smart-ass was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a lonely looking man with an unhappy twist to his mouth. He remembered the scars, and wondered with a pang if they were responsible for both the cynicism and the sorrow. Gods, he had been wrong about him -- been wrong for two years. There was a lot of making up that he had to do.

He moved closer to the still form, drawn by the warmth. He carefully draped an arm over him, more to get it out of the way than anything else. To his surprise, Paris stirred in his sleep and he felt a warm hand slipped into his. He stifled his first urge to pull away and slowly threaded his fingers through the pilot's. It didn't feel too bad, he admitted to himself. Almost nice, really. And the slim muscular body nestled up against his felt surprisingly good too.

Suddenly, he was so sleepy that he could hardly keep his eyes open. His last drowsy thought was that he'd probably be able to sleep even if he was in bed with a Kazon.

***

He awoke hours later to find himself with Tom Paris curled up against his side, head resting on the hollow of his shoulder, arm crooked across his chest -- and his own arm around the other man, holding him loosely. For a second he was too taken aback to move, then an unaccustomed and completely astonishing feeling of pleasure and desire crept over him.

Hesitantly, he rubbed his cheek against the tousled hair. It was as soft and fine as a baby's, he thought with a smile. His arm tightened just a little around the pilot, holding him closer and feeling the slow regular rise and fall of each breath.

For a few minutes he simply lay there and allowed himself to enjoy the warmth and the contact before his stern sensible side kicked in. What the hell was he doing? This was Paris, for gods' sake. He didn't even like the man. But a small teasing voice in the back of his mind whispered, //You don't dislike him as much as all that, do you? Not any more.//

He shoved the voice away, but it refused to stay quiet.

//Admit it. You want him, don't you? You always did. You want Tom Paris.//

//No!// He rejected the voice vehemently, and waited for the flood of unwanted emotions to subside. When his breathing had slowed to near-normal, he began to disengage himself. He sat up slowly, not wanting to wake Tom, who still slept heavily. He winced as he moved. Damn, he was stiff. He was too old for this sort of thing.

He tucked the blankets around the sleeping man, looking down at him with confused and disturbed eyes for a long moment, then mentally shook his head. It was too much for him to think about now.

He stood and stretched, grimacing as he did so. He could swear that he could actually hear the creaking from his stiff joints. He made a mental note to strangle Tuvok when and if they made it back to Voyager. Him and his damned survival courses.

He moved away and tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to Voyager." Static. Oh well, he hadn't really expected anything else. If anything, the storm outside seemed worse than before.

There was a groan from the floor and Tom sat up groggily.

"Shit, I'm sore," he complained. "And freezing. What the fuck happened to the stove?"

Chakotay gave him a jaundiced look. "Good morning to you too, Lieutenant."

"You try sleeping on a bed of rocks with two cracked ribs and tell me if you sound any more cheerful."

He had a point. Without a word, Chakotay fitted another painkiller into the hypospray. "Here. This will help." He administered it and was pleased to see some of the tension ease from the younger man.

"Thanks." He put a hand on the 'stove'. It was icy. He cocked an inquisitive head at his superior. "Can we turn this thing on for a while? There's no point in saving the phasers if we freeze to death in the process."

Chakotay nodded. "But only for a second," he warned. "Just enough to take the edge off the cold." He took the phaser and directed it at the boulder. When it was glowing a dull orange again, he turned the phaser off and checked the charge. Damn. Half gone. He turned on the lamp and sat down on the groundcover next to Paris with a sigh. His breath showed in the still-frigid air.

"We need to work out a plan. The charge on my phaser is half gone. That means that it will be good for only about three more times of heating this thing, then five more for yours, more or less. If we only heat it twice a day, they should last for another four days."

Tom snorted. "Then we turn into icicles. What about exercising to get warm?"

Chakotay had thought of that. He shook his head reluctantly. "That would work if we had enough food to replenish the calories we'd burn. But we only have six ration bars between us. No, we are going to need to stay still and conserve body heat as much as possible."

"And how do we do that?" he asked warily.

"By huddling together."

"I was afraid that you were going to say something like that," Tom sighed. "You sure you wouldn't rather just freeze?"

"I can stand it if you can." Chakotay's voice grew somber. "Seriously, it's the only chance we've got. I'd rather not make it an order though."

Tom shook his head. "You won't have to. I'm not stupid." He squirmed, embarrassed. "So how do you want to do this?"

Chakotay held out an arm. "Come here, Lieutenant."

Awkwardly, Tom moved into the circle of his arm, half-turning toward him as he did so. As they shifted into the unaccustomed position, he found his head resting on his superior officer's shoulder. He snapped it away, only to feel a hand urging him down again.

"Quit fighting it and get comfortable, Paris."

Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath and complied, laying his head gingerly on the broad shoulder. It seemed to fit naturally into the hollow just below the column of his neck, he realized. Oh geez. He slid a reluctant arm around the Commander's chest, then with a what-the-hell feeling, he bent one knee and drew it up across Chakotay's legs and waited with trepidation for the reaction.

"Comfortable?"

"I guess so," he admitted. "It just seems a little weird."

"Don't think about it." He gave a short laugh. "That might be hard to do, under the circumstances."

He could hear the grin in Chakotay's voice. "Give it a try. Just close your eyes and think of Starfleet."

"Swell. I don't remember agreeing to this when the captain asked me to sign on."

"I think this was included in the 'to boldly go where no man has gone before' part."

Tom raised his head, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Oh yeah? Well, that tells me something about you, doesn't it, Commander?"

"I think that you could probably call me 'Chakotay'," he said dryly. "This isn't exactly command protocol."

"Now you're trying to change the subject."

"That's right."

"Chicken."

"Don't push it."

He grinned. "Yes, sir!" He settled back down against the big Maquis. Time lengthened. He readjusted his position and found to his surprise that it didn't feel quite as 'weird' as it had at first. Almost comfortable, in fact. He might even get to like it in a month or two. Of course, by then they'd be dead. He had a sudden mental image of a Voyager search party finding their frozen corpses, lovingly entwined, and shook with suppressed laughter.

"What?"

Tom snickered. "Just imagining Tuvok finding our bodies like this. He'd have a fit."

"That's cheerful."

"Promise me that if I die first, you'll lay me out wa-a-ay across the room from you. With my back turned, please."

Chakotay shook his head in amusement. "I promise, but they'll probably think that I couldn't stand the smart-ass comments any more and murdered you."

Tom continued gleefully with his train of thought. "Gods, can you imagine the look on Harry's face?"

"Not to mention Megan Delaney's."

"It would almost be worth dying just to see it all," he chortled.

"If you were dead, you could hardly see anything," he was reminded.

"I plan to come back as a ghost and haunt the ship."

"I should have known."

Tom grinned. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Chief."

//I don't want to get rid of you at all. Ever.// The thought hit him like a thunderbolt, leaving him stunned. Where the hell had that come from?

Paris sensed the change. "What's wrong? Chakotay?"

He shook himself back to reality. "Uh, nothing. Just thinking."

"Felt like you'd had a stroke."

That roused him. "I'm not that old, Lieutenant."

"You do have a few grey hairs, you know."

"Most of them put there by you. And your hairline is receding, if I'm not mistaken, so I'd watch the smug comments. At least I have hair."

"You win!" he said, laughing.

Chakotay's arm tightened involuntarily, pulling the pilot closer. Dear god, he wanted to take that beautiful irritating face between his hands and kiss him until neither one of them could breath any more. And then he wanted to rip his clothes off and...

"Chakotay!"

"What?" He looked down to see Tom's worried blue eyes fixed on his face.

"You did it again. Are you sure you're all right?" In his concern, he raised a hand and laid it gently against the bronzed cheek. It was too much. With a groan, Chakotay twisted around and grabbed Tom's face between his hands, pulling him in for a hard kiss.

It was over in an instant and Chakotay sat back against the wall, breathing quickly, eyes closed. Gods, what had he done? He waited for the laugh of derision, the jeers and mockery. When they didn't appear, he opened his eyes cautiously.

Tom was looking at him, blue eyes filled with an astonishing mix of sympathy, wonder and something that made him catch his breath in disbelief. Desire. For several heartbeats, they just stared at each other wordlessly. Then Tom cleared his throat.

"Next time, you might try taking it a little slower," he offered diffidently.

//Next time?// Chakotay couldn't keep the question from his eyes. Paris colored slightly.

"If you want to, I mean," he hedged.

"If I want to?" Chakotay asked in a low rumble. He reached out and took the pilot's face between his hands again. Slowly and deliberately, giving him ample time to pull free, he drew him to him.

Tom made no attempt to escape.

Their lips met, tentatively at first, then with a growing assurance. A shock like a phaser blast passed between them and Chakotay's mind reeled. Gods, what an exciting mouth! Yielding and firm, responsive and hesitant all at once. With a growl, he leaned in, forcing those beautiful lips apart, desperate to be within.

There was the barest hint of a sound from Tom, almost a whimper. With a supreme effort, Chakotay pulled back. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

"Do you want me to stop? Just tell me." His eyes wide with mingled apprehension and desire, Paris slowly shook his head.

"No," he whispered.

It was all Chakotay needed to hear. He dragged Tom fiercely into his arms, searching for his mouth and forcing it open. His fingers raked through the golden curls, holding the younger man's head in place while his other arm held him clamped against his chest. He felt Tom gasp at the suddenness of the assault, then his tongue was in the pilot's mouth and neither one of them was doing much breathing.

Impatiently he turned them around so that Tom's back was to the wall, kneeling over him and never releasing his lips for an instant. He felt hesitant hands sliding around his torso, stroking his back and hugging him close. A surge of exhilaration tore through him. His tongue stabbed deeper into that responsive mouth, exploring, searching, desperate for more.

Tom, held in place by the heavy body, was overwhelmed and more than a little bewildered, even as he recognized that he was more aroused than he had been in a long time.

//What the hell is going on here?// one part of his mind was shouting. And the bemused answer came back, //I don't have any idea.// With a mental shrug, he gave up trying to make sense of it and abandoned himself to the most exciting and demanding lips that he'd ever felt.

Gradually the first feverish intensity faded. Chakotay's lips grew more gentle, more... loving? He traced the shape of the younger man's upper lip with his tongue, then bit lightly at the lower. He smiled with satisfaction as he heard the soft moan that this caused.

His hands were roaming unceasingly over Tom's body, stroking his hair, his face, running down along his side then back up over the flat abdomen. He was careful not to press on the injured chest, letting his hand brush only lightly over the bruised area before sliding gently up the long neck and cupping his chin briefly.

His fingertips explored the pale unturned face, moving over the hollow of his temple to touch his eyelid and run experimentally across the thick gold lashes and down the curve of his cheek. His lips were not far behind, marking each new discovery with a lingering kiss. At last he sat back with one final regretful kiss, breathing heavily.

Tom's hand dropped to his side and he eyed him dazedly.

"Chakotay? What was all that?"

The big man shook his head ruefully. "I'm not really sure. I just know that I wanted to kiss you."

"I didn't think you even liked me much."

He reached out to touch the fair hair, his eyes tender. "I think a lot of that changed last night, when I realized how wrong I had been about you." He hesitated, color flooding his face. "This morning, when I woke up with you in my arms, it felt wonderful. I wanted you so badly then."

"Wanted me? You mean like for sex?"

Chakotay looked at him curiously. "Why do you sound so surprised? After what I just did, you must have guessed that I wanted you."

Tom shook his head in confusion. "I haven't exactly had time to think about much of anything, if you remember. I just sort of gave up and went along with you."

Chakotay chuckled. "I guess it must have come as a surprise, at that," he acknowledged.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"But you didn't mind?"

A smile crossed his face. "The kisses? No, I didn't mind. You felt good."

"But the other...?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. I... hell, I just don't know. That's all."

"I won't force you into anything that you don't want," he promised.

"Thanks."

Chakotay studied the averted face and frowned. "Tom, have you ever been with a man before?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," he said tightly.

"I just wondered..." Paris turned away, flushing. "I don't want to talk about it," he said in suffocated tones.

His frown deepened. "Tom?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" he shouted, then turned away again, fists clenching. "Shit."

Treading warily, Chakotay laid a hesitant hand on the pilot's shoulder, feeling with a shock the tremors that were shaking him. What could have caused this?

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said quietly. "But if you do decide that you can trust me, I'll be here."

There was a spark of the old Paris as he gave a short sardonic laugh. "Yeah, I guess you will be, won't you? Not that you have much choice in the matter." Then he bit his lip and looked half-ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I appreciate the offer, Chakotay, really I do. But I don't know if it's anything that I can talk about, okay?"

"It sounds like it was pretty traumatic for you." There was no answer. He gave up and tried another tack. "Tom, come here."

He slid his arm around the slim shoulders and pulled him gently toward him. After a second of resistance, he came, fitting himself back into the curve of the older man's body. With a sigh, he relaxed slightly.

"I'm sorry, Chief. It's just something I don't want to talk about -- to anyone."

"Then we won't. Is there something you would like to talk about? Looks like we have plenty of time on our hands."

"Well, I wouldn't mind trying to figure out what the hell just happened here," he admitted. "I'm not complaining, you understand, just confused."

Chakotay laughed. "What is there to be confused about? A man who has hated you for the last two years suddenly kisses you and tries to seduce you. Which part don't you understand?"

Tom snorted, and with satisfaction Chakotay felt him relax even more. "I guess I must be slow or something. Explain it in very small words, would you?"

"I'll give it a try," he replied, suddenly serious again. "But I'm not sure I understand it all myself."

"I always thought you wanted the captain."

Chakotay looked down in surprise. "You could tell?"

"Oh for gods' sake, Chief, everyone knew! You looked like a lovesick puppy sometimes watching her."

The Maquis winced. "Great. And here I thought I was being so inscrutable."

The pilot grinned. "You have pretty expressive eyes, Chief. But this is getting off the subject."

"You're the one who brought the captain up," he was reminded.

"Well, now I'm going back to the original question. What happened here? I didn't think you liked men. Like that, I mean."

Chakotay shrugged. "I've been with a few. I never discriminated on the basis of sex," he said with a flash of humor. "But I usually seem to find myself attracted to women more than to men."

"You never seemed to be too attracted to me," Tom said dryly.

"Well, you were such a brat."

"Thanks!"

"Actually, when I first saw you, I thought you were gorgeous."

Tom raised his head to look at his CO, stunned. "You did? You sure never acted like it."

Chakotay smiled shamefacedly. "When I first saw you, I said. Before I knew who you were."

"Oh." Tom subsided into his arms.

"I had already made up my mind about you from what I had heard. I'm sorry, Tom. It wasn't fair to you."

"You weren't the only one," he said cynically. "You should have seen a room empty out when I came into it in those days. I couldn't have done a better job with a photon torpedo."

"It must have been tough."

He shrugged. "I got used to it. Anyway, back to today..."

Chakotay accepted the change in direction. "I think it really started last night. It came as quite a shock to find out what a damned fool I had been about you all this time." He stared into space for a moment and Paris didn't interrupt his thoughts. "But I guess when I realized that everything I had hated you for had been untrue, then I could go back to my first impression -- which was that you were one of the most beautiful and sexy men I had ever seen."

Tom looked dazed. "You'll have to forgive me if all this seems a little sudden."

"Quite all right," Chakotay said politely, then grinned. "You did miss most of the middle part of this saga, didn't you?"

"Yep, went straight from 'Once upon a time' to 'The end' for me, with nothing in between."

"I'm sorry if I rushed things."

"That's okay. Just give me a few minutes to catch my breath."

"Go ahead." They sat quietly. The cave was growing colder again, as the rock began to cool, and Chakotay pulled the blankets more securely around them both. He could feel Tom's warm body nestled against his, could even feel each heartbeat in the chest pressed so close to his own. He dropped a light kiss on the tumbled hair, and felt the younger man smile.

"I'm glad you don't hate me any more," Tom said softly. "I've wished for a long time that we could be friends."

"I'll tell you the truth. It's been hard to hate you lately," Chakotay admitted. "I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn't supposed to like you."

"Why did you try?" Tom asked curiously. "To keep disliking me, I mean."

Chakotay grimaced. "Would you believe because I was a self-righteous idiot?"

"Yeah, I don't have any trouble believing that. No, seriously..."

"I think I was starting to feel attracted to you and couldn't stand the idea of being attracted to a traitor and a coward."

The harsh words made Tom flinch, and Chakotay's arms tightened apologetically. "I know now that I was wrong," he said quietly. "I was just trying to explain why I fought it so hard."

"I know."

More long moments of silence, with only the faint lonely wailing of the wind outside and the occasional sharp crack from the cooling boulder. Then just as Chakotay had decided that Paris had fallen asleep again, he felt him take a deep breath.

"Chakotay? What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I guess I want to know what you expect from me now. I mean, I didn't exactly fight you off when you kissed me and I admitted that I liked it."

"So?"

"So... so what next?"

Chakotay chuckled. "Well, right now I'd say that we can do whatever you want. If you just want to sit here, we can. Or if you're bored, I'd be glad to kiss you some more."

Tom sighed in exasperation. "You're deliberately being obtuse, aren't you? That isn't what I mean and you know it."

Chakotay dropped the pretense. "Yes, I know. I just don't have an answer yet, that's all."

"Then maybe we'd better just drop it for now, okay?"

Chakotay felt his heart sink. "If that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want!" he burst out. "Just time maybe, to think about everything."

"All right, then -- you can have all the time you want. How far back do you want to turn things? Do I have to pretend to hate you again?"

Tom relaxed with a grin. "No, I like this better. Thanks for not pushing me, Chakotay."

He glanced at him curiously. "Did you really think I would?"

He looked away uncomfortably. "Uh, no, of course not. Never mind." He changed the subject with determination. "Gods, I'm hungry! I can hear my stomach rumbling. When do we get to eat, Chief?"

"Whenever you want. We only have three ration bars each. Normally I'd say to space them out as far as possible, but we only have enough phaser reserves to last about four days anyway. We won't survive long after that, so you might as well ration the food out accordingly."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're a cheerful son of a bitch to be stranded with. Remind me not to vote for you as morale officer."

"You planning to kill Neelix?"

"I've thought about it," he admitted. "No, he's not such a bad guy -- just a little too perky. I'm going to have some lunch. Care to join me?"

They ate the meager rations slowly. Tom licked the last crumbs from his fingers with regret.

"I never thought those things would actually taste good."

"Hunger is the best spice."

"Old Indian proverb?"

"I think it was from an ad for breakfast cereal." That got a laugh, as he had intended.

"You know, you do have a sense of humor after all," Paris said encouragingly.

"You didn't think so before?"

"Well, let's just say that you usually kept it pretty well hidden. I'd see it sometimes when we were playing pool or something. I thought you were the strong silent type."

"Half the time, I was biting my tongue to keep from telling ou exactly what I thought about you. Sometimes it seemed like you were deliberately trying to make my life miserable. Were you?"

"Yep," he said simply.

"Why, for gods' sake?"

"You were such an easy target! I could count on being able to make you mad."

"And then what?"

"And then people laughed," he said in a low voice.

"You wanted that?" But he knew the answer already.

"It sure beat having them all treat me like I had the phage or something."

"So baiting me made them like you?"

He shook his head. "No, they never liked me. But at least they stopped disliking me for a few minutes."

"I'm glad I could help," was all that an appalled Chakotay could trust himself to say.

Silence fell between them once more and the minutes lengthened. Tom moved restlessly.

"Damn, I'm stiff as a board! I'll be crippled by the time we get back to Voyager."

"Get up and move around some."

"I thought you said we had to stay still."

"I said that we shouldn't do a lot of vigorous exercising," Chakotay said patiently. "I never said we couldn't move. By all means, get up and stretch. Get the kinks out and start the blood flowing."

"Great!" Tom shoved the blankets aside and stood up with alacrity, making a face as his abused muscles protested the sudden movement. He stretched as much as was possible with his still-sore injuries, then began to move around, inspecting the small cave curiously.

Chakotay watched with an appreciative smile. Gods, but he was beautiful -- almost cat-like in his lean muscular grace. Tom felt his gaze.

"What are you staring at?"

"You. Do you mind?"

"Nope. There isn't a lot else to look at in here, is there?"

"Not really. You and the rock -- that's about it."

"I suppose I should be flattered that you picked me over a rock." He finished his exploration and sat down again at Chakotay's side.

"Feel better?"

"I guess so." He looked at Chakotay expectantly. "You going to let me back under those blankets or not?"

With a laugh, Chakotay held out his arm and the pilot moved into its circle with a contented sigh.

"You don't seem to mind being here quite so much."

Tom considered. "No, I don't think I do. Maybe I'm getting used to the idea. Or maybe it's just that you're warm."

"Come here, Lieutenant." Chakotay put a hand beneath his chin and tilted it up. For a long moment he looked into the mischievous blue eyes, his own dark eyes rueful. "I have a feeling I'm going to live to regret this," he said, then bent to capture those exciting lips again.

Tom came to him readily, with only a slight touch of hesitation that the older man found endearing. It was a novelty to see the cocksure pilot at a loss for anything.

He kissed him gently, thoroughly, exploring every inch of the willing mouth. He traced the shape of those enticing lips with the tip of his tongue, smiling to himself when Tom gasped with pleasure. And then Tom was kissing him back, pulling him closer, pressing himself into the embrace until their bodies meshed and clung.

Chakotay groaned, his breath coming faster. His arms tightened; his lips grew more insistent, more demanding. He could feel his arousal growing and his control slipping away. Taking the slim shoulders in his hands, he forced the younger man down onto the ground, barely aware of an involuntary shock of resistance as he did so. He ignored it, too caught up in the passion of the moment.

He lay on top of the pilot, imprisoning his head with both big hands as he plundered his mouth, brutal now with desire. He was fully erect, so hard that he ached. The thick ridge lay between them, pressing into his groin, driving him wild. He ground his hips against Paris'. Beneath him, Tom was moving, clawing at him with frantic hands. He easily held him captive with his heavier body and powerful arms.

Impatiently, he tore one hand away from the blonde head and thrust it down between them, rubbing Tom's groin, grabbing, searching for his erection. Thus partially freed, Tom was able to twist his head away, gasping for breath.

"No!"

The terrified sob got through to his superior. He jerked back, eyes dark with arousal, only to have Tom, flailing wildly in the dark, roll instantly out of his grasp and scramble away to huddle in the farthest recess of the cave. He was panting with fear, eyes dilated and almost black with panic. He tried to push himself further back into the shelter of the rocks, looking like a trapped animal at bay.

Chakotay stared at him with horror as the enormity of what he had almost done suddenly struck him.

"Oh my god! Tom, I'm sorry!" He struggled to his feet and started forward, stopping helplessly when Tom threw his hands over his face, and began to whimper.

"Nononononono... oh god, please no..." He was rocking himself back and forth again, as he had done the night before, but with a convulsive desperation now, almost sobbing in his fear.

"Dear god! Tom! Listen to me! I won't hurt you, I swear." He took two careful steps forward and knelt before the terrified man, wanting to reach out to him but afraid to. His apprehension was growing with every second. This was more than simple fear. This was panic, near-hysteria. He had seen this sort of thing occasionally in the Maquis, when hardened fighters would suddenly crack and flash back to an earlier trauma.

An earlier trauma. Oh dear god. Fireworks shot off in his brain, memories surfaced, conversations replayed themselves. He covered his face with his hands and sank down onto the hard ground as belated realization overcame him. Oh gods, how could he have been so blind. Tom...

He forced himself to fight down the rising nausea and self-loathing that threatened to choke him. There would be time for that later. His hands dropped and he took a deep breath before raising his eyes in trepidation.

The anguished sobs had died down, leaving only a low moaning whimper. The rocking had slowed as well. Now Tom had his arms wrapped tightly around himself, his face buried against his up-drawn knees, lost in his nightmares.

"Tom?" Chakotay put out a tentative hand, the faintest touch on the silvery shoulder. A shudder shook the tormented figure, but he didn't pull away. Encouraged, the older man let his hand slide down the arm in a gentle caress.

"Nonononono..." The agonized whispers were almost worse than the louder cries had been. They were being torn from deep within his soul. Chakotay gritted his teeth to keep from throwing caution to the winds and pulling the young pilot into his arms to protect and comfort him. He had seldom felt so powerless. He tried again.

"Tom? Tom, can you hear me?"

"Nononono..." The whispers were fainter. He sounded exhausted, beyond hope or caring. A new fear struck Chakotay. Tom was slipping away, retreating into his own world and on the verge of shutting out everything -- and everyone -- else. He didn't dare let that happen. He laid his hand on the bowed head, stroking the tumbled hair, trying to get through to him.

"Tom? Answer me. Tom!" His voice took on a new insistence. He thought he heard a tiny break in the incessant moaning and felt a small surge of hope. Taking a deep breath, he slid his arm around the pilot's shaking shoulders and gave him a careful squeeze.

"No!" Wild-eyed, Tom threw himself sideways. There was new fear in his voice, new terror in his unseeing eyes.

"Tom, listen to me!" He was almost frantic now, afraid of losing that precarious thread of connection. He had to try to shock him back to reality. He took a deep breath.

"Damn it, Lieutenant -- listen to me. Now!" he thundered.

That got through. Tom gave a sudden gulp and the low sobs ceased abruptly. Huddled on the floor, he stared up at Chakotay in frightened confusion. The commander moved over until he was directly in front of him again, crouching down to his level and being careful not to touch him.

"Tom, can you hear me?"

For a second, there was no reaction. Then a quick jerky nod.

Chakotay relaxed somewhat. The link was still there. Chakotay kept his voice firm, commanding. "Come with me now, Lieutenant. That's an order."

Tom just stared at him with enormous dark eyes, the pupils so dilated that no blue showed. Chakotay bit his lip in frustration. Making his tone lower and more soothing, he tried again.

"I won't hurt you, I swear it. You need to come back over where it's warmer. Please, Tom." He held out an expectant hand.

For a long moment, he thought he had failed. Then, slowly, awkwardly, Paris forced one tightly clenched hand to open and reached out. The hand he offered was trembling violently but Chakotay grasped it with a fervent prayer of thanks. He helped him to his feet.

"Come over here and get warm." He led Tom stumblingly back to the stone. Regardless of the drain on the phaser, he pulled it out and heated the cooling boulder until it glowed red hot again. Then he pulled the dazed man down onto the ground beside him and wrapped him in the blankets. A tremor ran through the young pilot.

Chakotay poured some water into a cup and pressed it into the slack hands.

"Drink this," he ordered quietly, wishing he had something stronger. The long fingers that closed obediently around the cup were shaking so badly that Chakotay immediately reached up to help steady them and to guide the cup to his lips. Tom managed to swallow a little of the water and let out a long shuddering breath as the tension drained from his body, leaving him limp and broken.

"I'm sorry," he said dully.

"Sorry? Oh dear god."

Unable to help himself, Chakotay pulled the unhappy figure into his arms and held him close. At first there was no response at all, then gradually life returned.

A face, hesitantly turned against his shoulder. A still-shaking hand sliding around his neck and clinging desperately. A ragged breath caught, then let out along with a sudden torrent of tears. He held him, murmuring meaningless words of comfort, stroked him -- and cursed himself to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

It was a short storm, finished almost before it had begun. When it was over, Tom remained quietly in his arms, too drained to move for the moment. Chakotay didn't disturb him, content to stay for as long as he was needed. At last Tom sighed and pushed away, sitting back against the wall, worn but in control of himself once more.

"I'm sorry, Commander," he said again, his voice quiet. "I didn't mean to do that."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Chakotay said fiercely. "It was entirely my fault. My fault -- gods, how could I have done that to you!"

A faint smile played over the tired white face. "I don't suppose you could have known that it would get that reaction. I didn't know it myself."

"That's no excuse. Nothing I can say or do will ever make up for my actions. All I can do is beg your forgiveness."

"It's all right, Chakotay -- really."

Chakotay bowed his head for a second, then raised it, eyes level. "Tom, what happened to you to cause this?

He forced a laugh. "I guess there's no point any more in saying that I don't want to talk about it."

"No."

"I didn't think so." He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"You were raped," Chakotay said softly.

A nod.

"In prison?"

Another nod.

"More than once?" Gods, this was hard.

A slight tightening of the lips and another nod.

"Did you tell anyone?"

A mirthless smile. "No, for some reason I preferred to live."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"There isn't much to tell. You pretty much have the whole story."

"When did it start?"

"The day after I got there."

"When did it end?"

"The night before I left." Chakotay closed his eyes for an instant. Tom had been there for almost a year.

He started to ask another question, then took in the exhausted ashen face, creased with pain. He bit back his words and reached instead for the medkit. He fitted another painkiller into the hypospray with hands that were not entirely steady.

"Hang on." A quick hiss and some of the lines of pain eased from the rigid features. "Tom, I want you to try to rest for a while. Sleep if you can."

"Is it night again?"

"Who knows? It doesn't matter. You've had a shock. Just lay down and get some rest."

"All right." He slid down onto the groundcovers and lay on his back, trying to get comfortable on the unyielding ground. Chakotay lay beside him.

"Come here." Once more he opened his arms to the young pilot.

Blue eyes searched black, uncertain and apprehensive. Then a tiny smile flickered across the tired face and he turned over and laid his head on his commander's shoulder, fitting himself into the warm embrace.

"Thanks, Chakotay."

"Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." And with a sigh, he obeyed.

Chakotay tucked the blankets securely around them both, resisted the urge to rain kisses on the golden head, and lay back with his head pillowed on his crooked arm. His mind was in an uproar as the truth of what had just happened smote him.

What had just happened was that he had come within a hairsbreadth of raping Tom Paris. He had, thank the gods, had just enough to control to stop in time, but his actions had awakened horrifying memories in the pilot -- and in the process had probably destroyed any chance that he, Chakotay, might ever have had with someone he now realized that he cared about very much indeed.

//Is that all that matters to you?// the grating little voice in the back of his mind sneered. //You traumatize that poor man and all you can think about is that now you'll never get him in bed? You're a real bastard, you know that?//

He squirmed. Gods, it was true. How could he be so selfish?

"No more," he said softly, looking down at the man sleeping in his arms. "You're the only thing that matters. My hormones can take a cold shower."

Things were going to be very different now -- to go back to the way they had been before all this craziness began. No more putting Tom on the spot. No more pulling him into unwanted embraces. No more fraternization, in fact -- other than that which would be necessary to save their lives in this icy purgatory. His eyes were bleak as he saw only too clearly what he had to do. The Starfleet regulations were right, he realized with a jolt. They were there for a reason. He had resented them when they seemed to keep Kathryn at an arms-length, but now he understood their importance.

But all that was at an end. He would never allow his personal desires to get the better of him again. //So you'd better savor this now,// the smug voice warned. //This may be the last chance you get.// His heart ached as he pulled Tom closer, feeling him snuggle down at his side. He would enjoy it while he could.

Tom slept deeply for a couple of hours while his CO lay awake and watched over him. When at last he began to stir, Chakotay gave him one final yearning glance and then composed his features into more suitable lines.

The blue eyes blinked open and fell on his companion. A warm and genuine smile lit his face.

"Hi," he said sleepily.

Chakotay got a firm grip on his emotions. "Are you feeling better, Lieutenant?" he asked formally.

Tom nodded. "I think so. A little more stable anyway." He sat up, yawning, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Chakotay, I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to go off the deep end like that."

The Maquis stopped him. "You have nothing to apologize for. It was entirely my fault."

"If I had known that something like that might happen, I could have warned you or something. But that was the first time."

Great. Chakotay stopped him again, more firmly. "I don't think we ought to discuss it. When we get back to Voyager, you can talk it over with the doctor or Kes."

Tom looked bewildered. "But..."

"That's an order, Lieutenant. I don't want to discuss it any more." Tom stared at him for the space of several heartbeats as the light slowly faded from his eyes and the barriers sprang into place. His jaw tightened slightly and he nodded.

"Aye aye, Commander," he drawled. "You're the boss." He turned deliberately away and began to study the boulder as though it were a Van Gogh painting.

The next six hours were as cold emotionally as physically. Tom, confused and mortified at the unexpected reversal of his Commander's behavior, withdrew behind his defenses completely, speaking only when spoken to and then only with the briefest of replies.

Chakotay, for his part, ached to see the change in the young pilot, but reassured himself repeatedly that it was for the best. When he saw the pain that could not quite be hidden behind the blue eyes, he almost relented and saved himself only by sternly quoting Starfleet regulations to himself.

The hours passed with agonizing slowness. Determined to stick to a schedule for phaser use, Chakotay allowed the boulder to cool completely. The cave grew heavy with cold. Their breaths made steamy puffs that hung like clouds in the frigid air. Hands and feet grew numb. The blankets were of little use, because their bodies were too chilled to generate heat.

After four hours, he was forced to admit that they needed to huddle closer for survival, but the closeness was purely physical. Tom refused to look at him and his lean body was as tightly wound as spring steel.

There was still no response from Voyager. Chakotay tried every half hour, but with no real hope. The blizzard outside had not diminished in the slightest and he suspected that it was tied to the plasma storm that had knocked out the communicators and transporters. They were on their own.

Breathing grew difficult in the thin icy air. A frightening lethargy stole over them both, the prelude to hypothermia. Paris recognized it first.

"Shit, we're going to freeze to death," he accused. "Use the fucking phaser and heat the rock!"

"It's too soon," Chakotay grated. "We're going to stick to the schedule."

"You'd rather die than break your fucking regulations, wouldn't you?" Chakotay didn't answer. His mouth was set in a hard line. Paris snapped.

"Fine! Stick to your precious damned schedule! But I want to know one thing before I die here in this fucking icebox listening to you quote rules and regulations at me. What the hell happened to you?"

"You're out of line, Lieutenant."

"So what? Who the fuck are you going to report me to? I want to know what happened?" He swallowed with difficulty, then forced himself to continue. "Why you went from... from kissing me to acting like I'm shit? Answer me, damn it!"

Chakotay looked away, his face set and impassive. Infuriated, Tom redoubled his efforts.

"Is it me?" he shouted, scrambling to his feet and standing with his fists knotted at his sides. "What's the matter, Commander? Did you decide that I wasn't good enough for you after all? What was it -- finding out that I was 'used' merchandise? That there had been a few others there before you? A few dozen others? Well, screw you, you fucking hypocrite." He turned away, shaking with emotion.

Chakotay slowly rose, jaw clenching and unclenching. "You little bastard," he said in a low throbbing voice. "How dare you think that I would be so shallow? Or that something like that would ever make any difference to me?"

Paris whirled, his voice loud and desperate. "Then what? Why the hell did you make me think that you... you cared about me and then turn me off like an old holovid? Why, damn you???" His eyes, angry and unhappy, challenged the First Officer.

"I did it for you!" he roared. "Don't you see that?"

"For me? You slap me in the face and claim it's for my own good? Where the hell do you get that crap from?"

"My god! I nearly raped you! I sent you into some sort of flashback nightmare that almost had you out of your mind. And you wonder why I don't think that I'm the best person for you to be with? Think about it!"

Taken aback, Tom could only stare open-mouthed. "Is that what you think? That's why you're doing this Jekyll and Hyde routine?"

Chakotay turned away, holding onto his temper with the last shreds of self-control. "I don't want to talk about it."

Paris grabbed his shoulder and swung him back around. "Well, I do! Damn it, Chakotay, you can't do this." He slammed his shocked superior against the wall, holding him in place with surprisingly strong hands. "You listen to me, damn it. What happened had nothing to do with you! It was me that was the problem. Do you think that I didn't want you? I did! Shit."

He released Chakotay and turned away, embarrassed. "I thought that you... liked me," he finished in a low voice.

It was more than the big Maquis could stand. He caught the wiry arm in his hand and spun him back around. "Like?" he whispered. "Dear god, Tom, I think I love you. And that's why I can't bear to hurt you. Don't you see that?"

"Then why are you doing this to me?" The cry came from the depths of his soul. "Why are you pushing me away when all I want..." He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to control the emotions that threatened to run away with him. "...when all I want is for you to hold me and kiss me and make me feel... wanted again. Oh hell." His cheeks flushed with humiliation at the admission.

Common sense, reason and Starfleet regulations flew out the window. Chakotay lurched forward, pulling the unhappy man into his arms and holding him close. "I'm sorry, Tom," he whispered. "Dear gods, I'm so sorry. I thought it would be best for you. I didn't want to hurt you any more."

And then they were clinging together, arms clutching tightly, heartbeats in unison. Tom's eyes closed as he strove to memorize the feelings. "It's been so long," he groaned.

"Long?"

"Since I've been close to anyone. Oh gods, I've missed this!"

Chakotay's heart twisted within him and he hugged him fiercely. How lonely the pilot must have been. And he had never guessed...

They stayed like that without speaking until a sharp report from the cooling boulder returned them to reality. Tom raised his head from the sheltering embrace and looked steadily into the dark eyes. "Don't you think you might have talked to me about this decision? It involves me too -- remember?"

The Maquis' arms tightened. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "You're right -- I should have told you what I had decided. I... well, I didn't know that it would matter to you."

A ghost of a smile. "Yes, it matters. God know why, but it does."

Chakotay ran an unsteady hand over the younger man's head and managed an answering smile. "All right, no more executive decisions without discussing it with you. Okay?"

"Thanks."

Chakotay let out a long breath. "So are we friends again? Or whatever we are?"

"Or whatever," Tom agreed. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. This has been a hell of a day."

"It sure has. At least now I can freeze happy."

"We're going to have to use the phaser ahead of schedule. It's getting too cold in here."

"Nah, I'm fine. We can tough it out a while longer."

Chakotay eyed him, noting the blue tinge to his skin and the bouts of uncontrollable shivering. "Liar," he said dispassionately.

"Hey, leave me a few shreds of dignity! If you can take it, so can I."

"Well, I can't. Don't try to be a hero, Lieutenant. Move over." He pointed his phaser at the boulder and soon had it glowing again. There was a click from his phaser as the beam died and he set it down with a sigh. "Empty."

"We still have mine," Tom pointed out. Then, seeing the look of worry on his companion's dark face, he gave his arm a shake. "We're going to be fine. Stop worrying -- there's not a damned thing you can do about it anyway."

"I'm senior officer. I'm supposed to worry."

"You aren't thinking that it's your fault that we're in this fix, are you?" At Chakotay's guilty start, he put his hands on his hips in exasperation. "What exactly could you have done that would have been any different? You've done everything you could -- found us shelter, got us both here in one piece, kept me from running naked into the blizzard the way senior officers always expect their juniors to do..."

Chakotay gave a reluctant chuckle. "Maybe you're right. Thanks. Just keep saying it occasionally, okay?"

"I will. And don't worry. They'll get us out of here."

"Maybe a shuttle..."

Tom shook his head. "No, I'm the only one that could get a shuttle down in this storm."

Chakotay looked up sharply to see if he were kidding, but for once his face was entirely serious. He was simply stating a fact.

He continued, "No, the captain will find some way to get us back. Hell, she couldn't do without us. We're indispensable!"

"How do you figure that?" he asked ironically.

"Well, if you weren't there, who would she flirt with on the bridge?" Tom asked, then grinned and ducked as Chakotay took a mock swing at him.

"And you, hotshot?"

"Hey, I've done more to unite that crew than anything else! Tom Paris, hated by Starfleet and Maquis alike! They'd have to find a new common enemy if I wasn't there, and poor Neelix isn't up to it." He was laughing as he said it, inviting Chakotay to join in the joke, but there was too much truth in his words for the Commander to see the humor. And for the first time, he recognized the injustice in it all.

"You've had a rough time the last couple of years, haven't you?"

Paris looked startled. "I wasn't fishing for sympathy, Chief. Just trying to get you to lighten up a little."

"I know you weren't. But you made me see a few things that I never had before, and I'm not too proud of the part I played."

"Well, it's all over and done with now. Can we get under the blankets again? Even with the heat going, it's damned chilly in here."

When they were settled in each other's arms, wrapped in the blankets, Chakotay spoke. "Tom, can we talk about that flashback of yours? I gather it had never happened before."

"Do we have to?"

"No," he said honestly. "But you need to talk to someone sooner or later."

"And you're here and there isn't much else to do anyway," Tom agreed. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"You've never had one before?"

"Nope. But then I've never been that close to a man since prison."

"You think that's what triggered it? But you didn't have any problem earlier, when I kissed you."

He gave a little shiver. "I know exactly what caused it. It was when you... you pushed me down and held me down and wouldn't let me up and I couldn't get away and..."

With a frown of concern, Chakotay could feel the pilot's heart rate and breathing beginning to quicken. He hastened to intervene.

"Shhh. That's enough. I understand." He dropped an apologetic kiss on the high forehead and rubbed his cheek against the soft curls. After a minute, Tom let out a long breath and relaxed again.

"Damn."

"We don't have to talk about it any more right now. You're right -- let it go for a while."

"Thanks, Chakotay."

"Could I ask you one other question?"

He could feel a smile cross Paris' face. "Sure, Chief. What?"

This one was harder. He hesitated, then asked bluntly, "Had you ever been with a man before you were raped?"

Tom was very still. Then, "No. That was... the first."

Dear god. Chakotay closed his eyes briefly against the stab of pain in his heart. "But you didn't shove me away when I kissed you?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "They weren't big on foreplay in prison. I don't have any bad memories associated with being kissed."

"Even by a man?"

"Well, it was a new experience," he conceded. "But you felt good."

"So you don't have a problem with that part of it?"

"No," he said softly. "I don't have a problem with that." He burrowed closer into the big man's embrace, silent for a moment. "Chakotay?" He sounded uncharacteristically diffident, even shy.

"Hmmm?"

"Would you make love to me?"

Time stood still. An eternity later, when Chakotay remember to breathe again, he let out a long shuddering sigh. A hundred questions jostled for position in his mind, but in the end, he said simply, "Yes, if you're sure you want me to."

A blindingly sweet smile. "I'm sure." He colored slightly. "I guess I want to see if it can be... good too."

"It can, I swear it."

He rolled Tom over and propped himself up on one elbow to look down at him. The face that returned his gaze was as trusting as a child's, with only the faintest trace of apprehension flickering behind the deep-sea blue eyes -- an apprehension that he immediately set himself to quiet. He bent and brushed the waiting lips with his own.

"If you ever need me to slow down or to stop, all you have to do is say so. Understand? I won't be angry or upset."

Tom nodded. He slipped his arms around his commander's neck and pulled him down. "I don't think I'll have to say anything," he whispered, then surrendered his lips.

Chakotay groaned as he took the beautiful mouth, holding himself severely in check. He kissed him gently, completely, savoring each new discovery. Their tongues met, twined. Tom bit lightly at his lower lip, then nibbled and licked at it until Chakotay felt his bones turn to water. He was hard already -- uncomfortably so.

He kissed his way along the jawline, nuzzling into the hollow of the throat. He could feel lips, whisper soft, playing over the tattoo on his forehead, then the tiniest breath of laughter.

"You don't know how many times I've wanted to do this," Tom confessed. The tip of a warm tongue, outlining the design. "And this..."

Chakotay's fingers, strangely unsteady, searched for the zipper and slowly drew it down. He slid his hand beneath the undershirt, releasing the bandage and pulling its coils out of the way. He caressed Tom's chest with his open palm, exploring each curve and valley. His hand brushed across a tight nipple, and he took it between his fingers, rolling it teasingly until he felt the younger man arch with arousal.

He found the midline of the chest and stroked down until he found the hollow of his navel. He slid beneath the blankets and buried his face against the warm belly, feeling for the first time the tickle of short golden hair that dusted the pilot's body. He nuzzled the navel, then let his tongue swirl around and into it, hearing with pleasure Tom's sudden gasp.

He pushed the shirt up farther and kissed his way carefully up the bruised chest. His lips latched onto one taut nipple and he sucked it into his mouth, nipping and licking until Tom was twisting beneath him, hands plucking futilely at his superior's clothes.

"That's so good!" he gasped, his eyes round with surprise. Chakotay smiled.

"Haven't you ever felt this before?" At the helpless shake of the golden head, he laughed softly. "Then enjoy, Lieutenant." And bent to continue, almost purring in his pleasure as he suckled the hard nubs, switching contentedly from one to the other.

Tom's hands came together on the Maquis' head, fingers lacing through the short hair, unconsciously holding him in place. His eyes were closed as he was enveloped by the unfamiliar sensations. So good. Dear god -- so good!

Gradually, he became aware that the older man was taking great pains not to make him feel captured or imprisoned by his body. An affectionate smile crossed his face. His hands curled around the bronzed face and tipped it up.

"I'm all right," he insisted gently. "You don't need to be so careful. I won't break, you know."

"I don't want to frighten you, to trigger another flashback."

"You won't. I want this, Chakotay." He hesitated, blue eyes searching brown, then finished in a breathless rush. "And I want you."

Chakotay groaned, and the pilot could feel a tremor pulse through the rigid body. "Gods, you make it hard for me to take this slowly," he whispered, lips against the smooth cheek.

"Why do you have to take it slow?" Tom managed to gasp out.

Chakotay was licking at his ear now, exploring the intricate folds curiously, driving him to distraction.

"Because I want to give you all the pleasure that you can stand. I want you to know how wonderful this can be."

"Chakotay -- why? Two days ago you could barely stand the sight of me. Why does this matter to you so much?" There was a soft catch in his voice that his companion did not miss. He raised his head.

"I don't know exactly, but it does. It matters more than anything. You matter to me now." His voice and his eyes were tender.

"But..."

Chakotay shook his head with a rueful smile. "Hush! You always did talk too much."

"Yes, sir..." Then his mouth was covered by those exciting curved lips and he couldn't say anything at all for a long time.

When at last he came up for air, Chakotay took the opportunity to begin removing some of the inconvenient clothing. As he had the day before, he undressed the pilot like a child. But today the results were intoxicating, driving Tom to the brink of madness as the First Officer took his time, licking and nibbling at every inch of skin that he uncovered.

He started with one hand, pressing the palm against his lips and following the fate line with his tongue. Another kiss, then a tiny bite at the base of the thumb, sliding down to the wrist to feel the thready pulse against his open mouth. He drew the sleeve carefully down and off, before repeating the process on the other side. Tom shivered in the chill air and he hastened to cover him with both the blanket and his own body.

"I don't want you to get cold," he murmured as his hands and mouth moved busily over the furred chest.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Good..." He eased the shirt off over Tom's head and looked down at the pale golden torso in awe. "You really are beautiful."

A gentle fingertip, outlining his tattoo then dropping down to trace the sensual curve of his lips. "So are you, Chief. Ohhh...!" He gasped as the big hand moved purposefully down over his belly to his groin, kneading the stiff swelling through the fabric of his uniform.

Chakotay, watching his features closely, felt a cautious relief. So far there were no signs that his movements were leading to a repeat of what had happened before. He found the waistband and slid his hand underneath until his fingers brushed across the erection hidden there. His eyes never left the other man's face.

Blue eyes flashed to his, faintly anxious. He leaned down with a reassuring kiss.

"Are you all right?"

A uncertain nod. "I... yes, it's all right."

"We'll take it slow," he promised. Obviously, this was starting to bring back the memories, of being grabbed against his will, he suspected. He'd just have to be careful that he didn't duplicate the rough actions.

It wouldn't be easy, he acknowledged ruefully. He was so aroused that the blood was pounding in his head -- among other places -- and he had to fight to keep from tearing the rest of the uniform away and sucking that alluring shaft into his mouth.

Tom saw the expressions that flitted over the bronzed face, and read them accurately. He felt a warm glow inside, suddenly no longer apprehensive. Somebody cared about him, was worried about him. Wanted him. And in that instant he knew that he wanted everything that his commander did -- wanted it very badly.

"Chakotay?"

"What is it?"

"It's getting awfully warm in here," he said demurely. "Almost hot."

Dark eyes flickered appreciatively. "Maybe we ought to get some of these clothes out of the way," he suggested with a slow smile that unexpectedly made Tom's heart skip a beat.

"Oh, that's a good idea."

In seconds, Chakotay had removed his partner's boots then stripped off uniform and shorts with an alacrity that left Tom breathless.

"You've done this before," he accused.

He chuckled. "No, just inspired." He looked down at the nude figure beneath him and caught his breath at the sight. Dear gods, but he was exciting!

He wasn't aware that he had moved, but somehow his hand was grasping the golden erection, stroking slowly, tantalizingly along its length. It filled his hand, fitting perfectly, seeming to belong there. He let out a long sigh, letting the pleasure wash over him. He had forgotten how good another man felt. His fingers caressed the flared head, searching for the tiny slit at the tip, probing gently, teasingly.

Tom's eyes closed and his back arched as he thrust his hips helplessly into that provocative grip. So different from the brutal gropings he had experienced before. He hadn't known... how could he have guessed?

Then something new, even more overwhelming. Soft lips, a silky tongue, and before he had managed to assimilate that -- a hot wet mouth coming down purposefully, sucking him into a passionate embrace.

"Gods -- Chakotay!" he gasped, and the big man instantly pulled away.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No!"

A low puff of laughter, then that electrifying mouth had engulfed him again, sucking and licking until his mind reeled and he forgot everything else.

Chakotay too found himself lost in the experience of having Tom in his mouth. He nibbled up the ridge of the stiff shaft before enveloping the head with a low growl of pleasure, sucking it eagerly to the back of his throat. Then he was sliding slowly off, with small tantalizing sucks on the way. He could feel Tom writhing beneath him, hear the low whimpers of desire.

He continued his exhilarating exploration, tasting, touching, experimenting to see what would give the greatest pleasure. Tom's hands wound in his hair, clutching spasmodically. Chakotay felt him growing harder, more erect, swelling in his mouth, and regretfully pulled away. There was a low moan of dismay from the pilot.

"Shh, I don't want you to come too soon," he soothed. "There's so much more that I want you to feel." He began to strip off his own uniform.

Tom's eyes fastened on him beseechingly. "More?" he whispered.

"So much more..." Nude now, Chakotay lay himself carefully on top of the younger man, rubbing their erections together, feeling the heat and the tiny electric shocks that the touch generated. His heart was pounding and he took a long deep breath to try to retain control of himself. He couldn't remember ever being so hard or so aroused.

He propped himself up on his elbows, his face barely an inch above Tom's. There was a burning light in his dark eyes. He bent and captured the willing lips with his own.

"I want to take you," he breathed into the open mouth. "Turn you over, spread your legs and drive into your beautiful body."

Tom went very still, scarcely breathing, eyes searching his companion's face. Then he gave a very small nod.

"Take me," he whispered.

Overcome, Chakotay bent to kiss him again. Tom's hands were running up and down his back, following his spine down to the depression at the base, then caressing his buttocks with the flat of his palm. One fingertip slid along the cleft, and an uncontrollable shiver shook the big man. The hand stopped immediately. He blinked his eyes open, questioning.

"Is that all right?" Tom asked almost shyly, and he remembered that touching another man was new to him.

"Yes," he said gently. "It's wonderful." The worry fled, leaving eyes as clear and unclouded as a summer sky.

"I'm glad," he said simply. "Because you feel so incredibly good I don't know if I could stop." And as if to prove it, he took the muscular buttocks in his hands once more and kneaded them with strong fingers.

Chakotay drew in a sharp ragged breath. He covered Tom's mouth with his own again, probing fiercely. He had the blonde head gripped tightly in his hands, dragging him closer. He ground his hips against Tom's erection, felt him gasp in his mouth. He was going to lose all control if he wasn't careful.

He sat back and grabbed a shoulder, flipping the younger man roughly over onto his stomach. Tom gasped sharply at the sudden stab of pain through his injured ribs.

"Damn! I'm sorry, Tom. I forgot." Chakotay's lips brushed apologetically over the livid bruises.

"It's okay," he managed to say with a ghost of a smile. "I forgot about it too. I'm all right now." As if to prove his words, he moved into position, lying quietly below the Maquis, with only his increasingly rapid breathing to betray his feelings.

Chakotay hovered over him, pushing his legs apart so that he knelt between them. He froze, mesmerized by the sight of the beautiful golden body lying submissively under him. He put his hands on the firm buttocks and spread them open, groaning as he saw the small opening between them. He ran an unsteady finger over it, feeling the shockwave that it set off. With a tremendous effort of will, he pulled his hand away.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked hoarsely. "Do you want me to stop?"

"The next time you ask that, I swear I'm going to say 'yes'," Tom managed to whisper through gritted teeth. "Shut up and take me!"

With his last shred of rational thought, Chakotay grabbed the medkit, rummaging impatiently through it for something to use as lubricant. His fingers closed triumphantly on the tube of antibiotic ointment. Perfect.

He tossed the medkit aside and unscrewed the cap with shaking hands, squeezing a large dollop of the ointment onto his fingers. He reached down, finding the tiny opening. Tom trembled at the touch of the cold gel. Gently, forcing himself to go slowly, Chakotay lubricated the opening, then slid one finger completely inside.

Tom was panting now and the other man remained still, giving him time to become used to the new sensation. After a second, he gave a convulsive nod and Chakotay began again, twisting his finger within the tight hot passage, sliding in and out until he felt him began to relax. Then, very carefully, he added a second finger, starting the slow stretching process.

Tom moaned, pushing back against the invading fingers, and Chakotay closed his eyes for an instant with relief. No flashbacks, no terrors, thank god. With infinite care, he added another finger, hearing a quick catch of surprise in Tom's throat.

"Relax," he said in a low rumble. "Just relax and enjoy the feeling."

"Yes, sir!" came the gasping reply, and a fond grin crossed Chakotay's face. It was apparently impossible to keep the smart-ass down for long, though god knows he was trying.

Then he was ready. Chakotay slowly withdrew his fingers, reaching for the lubricant to coat his own erection. He took Tom by the hips and pulled him up, not missing the anxious glance that he threw over his shoulder.

He covered the pale buttocks with his big hands and spread them wide, leaving the young pilot exposed and vulnerable. He positioned himself at the opening, hearing Tom catch his breath. Then, slowly, holding onto his control desperately, he began to push inside.

Tom gave a low whimper, his hands knotting into hard fists.

Chakotay stopped, breathing hard. After a minute, he could feel the tension ebb slightly. Tom's clenched hands gradually opened, then were laid flat on the blanket. Chakotay pressed forward. The tight muscle reluctantly opened to the invader and with a last surge, he was within.

Fireworks shot off in his brain again, whirling and soaring in an riot of color and light. All his senses were concentrated on the incredible sensation. Unbelievably hot. So tight that he was afraid he was going to come on the spot. And erotic. The most erotic experience of his life -- being deep within Tom Paris' golden body. He groaned, grabbing onto the hips and pulling the other man back onto him, burying himself completely.

Tom was sobbing with pleasure and pain, his hands grabbing mindlessly at the blankets. As the first sharp stab passed, he became aware of a warm glow growing within him. Then Chakotay thrust himself in more deeply and suddenly he was frantic for more. He pushed back, impaling himself on the massive shaft, crying out in disbelief at the rush of pleasure.

"So good!" he cried. "Oh god, Chakotay -- you're so big in me! So good..." Then he was instinctively rocking back and forth, caught up in the passionate rhythm. Their bodies meshed, became one.

He felt Chakotay's big hand reaching around and grabbing his erection, holding on tightly and stroking him fiercely in time to their movements. Pumping harder. Faster. He was beyond thinking, beyond rational thought. Everything centered on the ecstasy caused by their actions. Chakotay! Chakotay was taking him -- was thrusting in him, pulsing in him. Chakotay! His mind exploded and he screamed incoherently as he came in his lover's hand, spurting and throbbing.

The convulsive waves that shook his body sent Chakotay over the edge into climax as well. With a roar and one final thrust that tore a scream from Tom's throat, he came deep within him, exploding and spasming seemingly forever. For a dozen heartbeats, they were rigid, scarcely breathing as the paroxysms played out. Then with a groan, both collapsed, gasping for breath.

Limp and drained, they lay entwined in each other's arms as their breathing slowly slowed to normal. With a great effort, Chakotay rolled over and pulled Tom into his embrace, kissing his hair exhaustedly and murmuring something, he wasn't sure what, against his ear. Tom managed to raise his head long enough to kiss him in return then dropped his head back onto the broad chest, dazed and limp.

A long time later, Chakotay stirred. "Tom?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Barely." He groaned and rolled over. A slow smile creased his face. "That was... unbelievable. I never knew, never guessed..." He hesitated. "Chakotay? Thanks. For slaying the dragons for me."

Chakotay dropped a light kiss on his head, unaccountably moved. "You're welcome. Do you think you're okay with this now?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I can't promise that someday, something won't trigger another flashback like the one yesterday. But I know that I'm not afraid any more."

"That's a good start." He settled the slim form closer. "Do you think that you can get some sleep now?"

Tom gave a huge yawn. "Oh yeah. That's one thing I think I could do." He grinned. "You wore me out, Chief. How about you?"

"No problem here either. Do you want to get dressed first?"

Tom snuggled down against the broad chest. "No, I like feeling you. And it's just as warm anyway."

"Good night then."

"Night." Within minutes, his deep breathing told the Maquis that he was asleep.

Chakotay lay awake for a few minutes longer, marveling over the events of the last forty eight hours. If anyone had told him two days ago that he would be lying naked with Tom Paris, having just experienced the most intense, mind-expanding sex he'd ever known, he'd have sent for the holodoc immediately -- or a security team. But here he was. Here they were. Unbelievable.

Still musing on the unlikeliness of the whole thing, he fell asleep.

***

He awoke slowly hours later. He lay curled against Tom's back, arms hugging him close. The heat where their bodies met was a small oasis of warmth. The temperature in the cave had dropped drastically in the intervening time. Raising his head reluctantly, he decided that it must be near zero. Damn.

Tom stirred. "Wha's the matter?" he murmured.

"It's getting too cold in here."

Tom blinked sleepily. "Did you think it wouldn't?"

"I mean it's getting cold faster than I had anticipated."

"And you're starting to worry about having to use the phasers sooner than you had intended to again," he guessed accurately.

"Something like that."

Tom turned over toward his CO, his own face sympathetic. "Listen to me, Chief. There's nothing you can do about any of this. We can't freeze to death just to save the charge on the phasers."

"I know."

"All we can do is try to make them last as long as possible. If Voyager gets through in time, then we're okay. If not..." he shrugged. "Well, then we can die in each other's arms." A sudden smile lit his face. "I don't mind if you don't."

"I thought you wanted me to put you across the room," he was reminded.

"That was then. Now... well, I've changed my mind. There are worse places to die."

Chakotay's arms tightened involuntarily. He was right -- there were worse places.

"Chakotay?" Tom broke the long silence.

"What is it?" There was a mischievous gleam in the blue eyes that made him smile in spite of himself.

"I think maybe a little exercise might help us warm up."

Chakotay felt a hand sliding down over his abdomen to grasp at his soft organ. It immediately began to stiffen and Tom chuckled. "Feels like you wouldn't mind too much."

"No, not too much..." He arched into that tantalizing touch.

For a few moments, Tom continued his stroking, bringing his lover to a hard erection with his hand while he kissed his lips thoroughly. Then, with a teasing grin, he ducked beneath the blankets and curled up into a tight ball with his head resting on Chakotay's belly. The Maquis groaned when a warm wet mouth fastened itself onto his now rock-hard shaft and immediately sucked it deep into his throat.

He licked and sucked on the massive organ, exploring and memorizing. At last he pulled back with a last kiss on the tip and came up for air.

"I've never done this before," he said a little shyly. "Tell me what you want."

Chakotay bent his head and captured his lips ferociously. "I want you to keep doing just what you're doing. You're incredible."

"Yessir," he said with a grin, and disappeared beneath the blankets again.

The intoxicating assault continued and in less time than Chakotay would have believed possible, he felt the climax starting to build inside him. He grabbed the blonde head, stopping him.

"I'm close," he gasped. "So close..."

"And that's bad? I want you to come."

"But what about you?"

An affectionate smile. "We'll worry about that later. Now hush and just let yourself go. I want to feel you come in my mouth, Chakotay."

Chakotay almost climaxed at his words. Gods! Then the hot talented mouth had enveloped him again and he let all rational thought flee from his mind.

It began. The tingling in his groin, the tightening of his balls. The monumental climax that started deep within his body and then exploded into Tom's mouth with shooting stars and whirling suns. There was sound echoing from the cavern walls -- the sound of someone bellowing in exultation. It took a minute before he realized it was him.

Then he lay back, chest heaving and eyes closed. He was dimly aware of Tom sliding into his arms, fitting himself into the once- awkward position that now seemed as natural and right as if they'd been doing it all their lives. He automatically curved his arm around the slender body, drawing him closer.

"Are you sure you've never done that before?" he gasped when he was able to speak again.

"Nope, never."

"Then you have an amazing natural talent." He bent to kiss him slowly, lingeringly. "Amazing." He blinked, trying to focus on the smiling face. "And now it's your turn."

He reached down to grasp the stiff erection in turn. "Tom? Do you want to take me?"

"You mean...?" He flushed. "I don't think I could, Chakotay. Not yet anyway."

Chakotay didn't press him. "Then maybe this will do." With a last kiss, he slid down to take that beautiful shaft into his mouth.

He had never enjoyed the act more. Tom was hypernaturally responsive, moaning and whimpering at each touch, arching and shuddering with the exquisite pleasure. And when he finally came, screaming, Chakotay almost came again himself. He had never known a more exciting lover.

Afterwards, they talked quietly in the dark. Chakotay told Tom about his childhood, the father whose adherence to the old ways had alienated his son and driven him away to Starfleet, until his death at the hands of the Cardassians had done what all his admonitions could not.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, Tom talked about his own childhood.

His voice dropped so low that his companion could scarcely make out the words as he remembered the fights with his father, the constant insul