The Edge By Morticia C/P 3/3 R for language. Warning: ** Typical Mort Angst ** "Tom," Chakotay said gently, after Tom had carried him back to the bunk. "I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?" Tom was sitting on the edge of the bunk, trembling with obvious fatigue, his head twisted towards the scattered piles of food. He didn't even react to Chakotay's words until Chakotay tapped him impatiently on his left arm. Tom spun in surprise, his face swiftly regaining its bright smile as he noticed Chakotay's attention on him. "Fud Tay?" he asked hopefully. "Not yet, Tom," Chakotay replied patiently. "I need to ask you something important, and I need you to try and concentrate." Tom tipped his head to one side, frowning slightly. "Eh?" he queried. It was obvious to Chakotay that he was trying to listen, but simply couldn't follow the complexity of Chakotay's words. Chakotay tried to imagine he was talking to Naomi. "Tom, does your head hurt?" Tom nodded, his face screwing up in misery. "That's because your brain is hurt, Tom," Chakotay explained slowly. "Your frontal lobe is hurt. That's why you can't remember things. But the real problem is your temporal lobe." "emfal obe," Tom repeated slowly, "Eashuh." Chakotay jumped with excitement. He had been right. Tom WAS able to think, at least in a limited capacity. He HAD made the connection. Well he had if "Eashuh" meant what Chakotay hoped it did. "That's right, Tom. Your temporal lobe is damaged," he agreed. "That means you are having seizures. I need your help, Tom. You have to tell me what I can do. How can I help you Tom?" Tom blinked slowly, his face screwed up in pain, as though the very attempt to think was agonising for him. "Eashuh?" he repeated slowly. "Yes, Tom. What will help?" Chakotay begged. "V- V- v-," Tom slurred, unable to get past the single letter. Chakotay's mouth filled with a bitter taste as he understood the word Tom was struggling with. "Voyager is still more than a week away, Tom. We're alone here. There's only us." Tom began to rock miserably, wrapping his arms around his chest, and he began to cry softly. "Tam gun day," he finally managed, a tear escaping his brimming eyes and slowing dripping down his cheek. `Tam gun day?" Chakotay repeated to himself desperately, and then realisation struck him, and he covered his own face in horror. Shit, what had he done? He had been trying to help, dammit. He had been praying that somewhere under Tom's confusion there was still enough spark of knowledge remaining to help him. Instead, all he had accomplished was to inform the already terrified pilot that his injury was fatal. He reached out and clutched Tom's hands in his own. "NO," he growled. "Tom is NOT going to die." But the blue eyes dipped away from him miserably, as though Tom couldn't bear to see him lie. "Tom. Listen to me. TOM," he squeezed Tom's fingers cruelly, forcing the younger man to flinch and pull back, but also to turn his head towards him once more. "Diazepam, Tom. What is it? What does it do?" he demanded. For a long moment, Tom's fear-filled eyes stared at him blankly, then the pilot frowned, his forehead wrinkling with thought. "eashuh," Tom whispered. "Diazepam prevents seizures?" Chakotay demanded excitedly. "Tam day," Tom just muttered miserably in reply and, wrenching his fingers out of Chakotay's hands, he staggered to his feet and headed to the far more interesting piles of foil packets. Watching Tom's retreating back, doubt assailed Chakotay. What if Tom had been trying to say that Diazepam CAUSED seizures? What if "eashuh" actually just meant, "Let me go. I'm hungry and I can see a pile of food in the corner?" Giving Tom the wrong treatment would surely be worse than doing nothing. The wrong drug could cause convulsions, perhaps even precipitate a coma. He had no idea how effective the regenerator had been, after all. What if the swelling HAD been reduced enough for him to survive until rescue, but Chakotay's `cure' killed him? He seemed happy enough, now Chakotay had left him alone. He was cheerfully sifting through the food packets, moving the piles into patterns that obviously held some meaning to him, judging by the broad grin on his face. ~~~ It was late the next evening before Chakotay became desperate enough to take the risk. Tom's behaviour had been rapidly changing, becoming increasingly erratic. The inane grin, the one that had irritated him so much, was soon interspersed with flashes of a temper so volatile that Chakotay desperate to regain the happy Tom of the day before. Tom would sit for hours, happily playing with the food packets, building intricate patterns, only to occasionally freeze for a few seconds, then bellow with rage and destroy his own carefully constructed fortresses. Then, as quickly as the tantrum came, it would leave and he would collapse in the midst of the chaos, weeping at the sight of his own destruction. Twice Chakotay had witnessed Tom's face during the seconds preceding his tantrum, and on both occasions, Tom's eyes had rolled back in his head and his body had been shaken by almost imperceptible spasms. But that evening, everything had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. He had finally managed to lure Tom away from the bright foil wrappers that so fascinated him. It had taken a long time to catch his attention because he had been sitting on Chakotay's right side at the time, and Chakotay had finally realised that Tom seemed to be completely deaf in his left ear. Chakotay was ashamed that it had taken so long for him to realise that the reason Tom alternated between responding to him and totally ignoring him, had very little to do with concentration. It simply depended which way Tom was facing at the time. Since the damage was in the left hemisphere of Tom's brain, so his hearing and movement in that side of his body was particularly affected. The truth was, that it had only been when Chakotay noticed Tom beginning to limp, favoring his left leg, that he had finally made the connection. No wonder Tom had rarely reacted to being shouted at for being inattentive. When his right ear was turned away, only a raised voice managed to register with him at all. So, because he couldn't catch Tom's attention with his voice without yelling loud enough to make his diaphragm spasm violently against his cracked ribs, Chakotay had crawled painfully off the bunk and had dragged himself towards the pilot. By the time he reached Tom's side, his biceps were trembling with exhaustion, knifing pains were shooting through his legs, and he had collapsed unwittingly against Tom's latest masterpiece. As the towering edifice of food packets tumbled to the floor, Tom had screamed in outraged panic, his arms flailing crazily to catch the falling food and only causing the foil to spin wildly in all directions. "BAA TAY!" Tom howled, his face flushing with rage, "BAA BAA TAY!" "I'm sorry Tom," Chakotay had apologised as Tom's face screwed up in an uncanny imitation of a thwarted three-year old's and then Tom began to bawl loudly, tears streaming down his furious face. "I'll help you build it again," Chakotay promised desperately. The tears stopped as abruptly as though a faucet had been turned off. Tom's furious expression was wiped away by a huge sunny smile, and Chakotay heaved a sigh of relief. And that was when Tom's body arched in a spasm, his spine contorting unnaturally, as his eyes rolled back until his orbs were horrifyingly white, and he began to convulse. It wasn't dramatic. He didn't thresh about, or foam at the mouth as Chakotay had expected. He simply sank to the ground and trembled silently, his skin twitching as though an army of ants was crawling under the surface. The very quietness of his fit was somehow the most terrifying thing for Chakotay. It only lasted a few minutes, although it felt like hours to Chakotay as he watched helplessly. And when it was over, and Tom's eyelids fluttered open to reveal his bewildered blue eyes, Chakotay took the opportunity to thrust two of the Diazepam tablets into Tom's slack mouth. Tom chewed the tablets dry, his face screwing up in disgust at the taste, and then turned on his side and fell instantly into a deep sleep. Chakotay had to fight the impulse to shake him awake again. What if this wasn't sleep? What if it was a coma? What if he had inadvertently poisoned Tom? Yet Tom's breathing was steady, his breath punctuated by his usual soft snores. So, exhausted by Tom's fit and overcome by the ceaseless waves of pain in his legs, Chakotay simply rolled over, pulled Tom against him in a hug and tried to fall asleep himself. ~~ "Tay?" The softly spoken word was enough to break into Chakotay's dreams. "Yes, Tom?" he murmured sleepily. "Hurt, Tay. Head hurt," Tom moaned with such misery that Chakotay had to choke back a sob, even as the clarity of Tom's words jolted him to full awareness. "I gave you the Diazepam, Tom. Did it help? Do you feel better?" "Seesurs," Tom nodded painfully. "Diaepam prevents seizures?" Chakotay demanded hopefully. "Seesures" Tom agreed, with a tired nod. Chakotay had a sudden urge to jump to his feet and dance. A jolt of pain through his legs sobered the impulse. "How long between doses, Tom?" Chakotay asked, praying that Tom was lucid enough to give him the correct reply. "How - how - " Tom struggled, then gave up. "How MANY doses?" Tom gave a tired nod. "There are six more, Tom." "V- V- Voy-" Tom demanded. "I don't know. Maybe five or six more days," Chakotay confessed. "Goan die Tay," Tom mumbled. "NO. I won't LET you die, Tom. We're going to make it, Tom. Both of us. You are NOT going to die," Chakotay snapped. For a moment Tom held his gaze, then as tears brimmed in their blue depths, Tom closed his eyes tightly. "Goan die Tay," he whispered again, the moisture beginning to trickle from beneath his wet lashes. Chakotay desperately gathered him in his arms. "You won't die, Tom. I promise. I promise you won't die," Chakotay choked, hugging Tom tightly. But Tom didn't reply. ~~~ Chakotay tried to make the Diazepam last, waiting until Tom actually began to have a fit before dosing him, yet the intervals between episodes shortened with each application of the drug. Less than 24 hours after Tom's first petit mal seizure, the medicine was gone. Then Tom's seizures began to increase in strength and rapidity, each one leaving him more confused and helpless. After each fit Tom would sink quickly into a state of unconsciousness. Each time he woke, his eyes were more glazed, his voice more slurred, his motor functions swiftly failing. Barely able to move himself, let alone drag Tom, Chakotay pulled the mattress from the bunk and made a nest on the floor next to the tiny bathroom. He dragged as many of the unopened food packets next to the mattress so that he only had to move himself the few meters from the head and back to both take care of his own bodily needs and to enable him to keep Tom as clean as possible. Tom lost control of his bodily functions at about the same time as he finally lost the ability to speak. Chakotay could only pray that Tom was unaware of his own body's betrayal. He surprised himself with how easily he adjusted to having to look after Tom in this fashion. Somewhere in the last few days, all his rage and anger had dissipated, his own selfish concerns about his own pains faded and he found comfort at least in being able to do something. He might not be able to save Tom's life, but he was sure as hell going to let Tom die with dignity. The days were the hardest, when the temperature in the shuttle rose to stifling levels, making it uncomfortable for him to lie with Tom in his arms, as perspiration stuck their bodies together and the heat of Tom's body against his own became almost unbearable. Yet, since Tom seemed unaware of the heat as he lapsed in and out of consciousness with increasing rapidity, Chakotay suffered in silence. He also stopped taking the painkillers. Without them, the dull pain in his legs blossomed into agony, yet they made him sleepy and he was terrified that he would fall asleep and somehow fail Tom. The thought of even releasing Tom from his arms terrified him. What if he let him go and Tom had a fit, without the comfort of Chakotay's arms to ease the terror? What if Chakotay released him and Tom chose that moment to die? That terrified Chakotay more than anything. That Tom would die alone. That he would take the opportunity of Chakotay sleeping, or even dragging himself to the head, to simply pass away. What if, in that last moment, Tom woke and was lucid? What if he passed into the spirit world in the belief that he had been abandoned and became one of the spirits who forever roamed the spirit plane in lonely, bitter madness because their passing had seemed to go unmourned? In the end, Chakotay designed a make-shift chamber pot and a bowl of clean water and rags for cleaning them both, and refused to leave Tom's side at all. Without the painkillers he could barely move anyway, so the mattress became their mutual prison. Chakotay simply lay on the narrow mattress and talked endlessly to the unresponsive man in his arms, knowing that Tom couldn't understand him, but sure that the sound of his voice would somehow ease Tom's fear. "And then the Captain told me what you did, and I had to literally bite my lips not to laugh out loud. I know that you find that hard to believe, considering the way I reamed you out over it, but the truth is, I DID see the funny side. "I OFTEN see the funny side of your behaviour, Tom. Just because I chose to sit alone in my cabin while you gallivant around the ship with your holoprograms and pool games and scams, doesn't mean I'm not aware of what you are up to." Chakotay chuckled ruefully. "To be honest, I love that part of you, Tom. The irrepressible mischief maker. Always at the centre of whatever scam is going down on the lower decks. I love the way you hustle at pool. The way that everyone KNOWS that you are hustling them, but they still can't resist letting you hook them in anyway. "And I love the other side of you, too. The way you are such a good friend to Harry. The way that you befriended Seven, when most of us couldn't see past the Borg to the vulnerable woman beneath. I love your protective nature, Tom, your unfailing need to be on the side of the underdog. "I guess, the bottom line is, I love you, Tom Paris," he confessed. "I never dared to tell you that. I let you think that I hated you because I just didn't have the courage to face the fact that you might reject me. "Hell, Tom. Of course you would have rejected me. Why wouldn't you? You're like something free and untamed, and I'm the foolish hunter who wanted to trap you and cage you and make you mine. "I know you'd never meet me on my terms, you see. You wouldn't have wanted to settle down with a middle-aged man who has seen too much, and experienced too much, to be able to just let go and relax. "I could never have settled for PART of you, Tom, and I knew you weren't willing, or able, to give ALL of yourself to anyone, let alone me. "So I couldn't take the risk. I couldn't even meet you half way when you tried to offer me your friendship. I always felt like I was teetering on the edge of a precipice whenever I was near you and that if I took a single step towards you, I would fall off the edge." Tom stirred restlessly in his arms, and Chakotay stiffened, his body tensing as he waited for the inevitable seizure to begin. It was worse this time, lasting almost ten minutes, and by the end of it, Chakotay was trembling with the exhaustion of trying to keep Tom still. "I'm so sorry, Tom. Sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you how I felt when there was still time. I know it wouldn't have changed anything. I know you would still have said no. But, at least, if I had had the nerve to step off that cliff and confess my feelings, then at least you would know that your death DOES matter. "At least you would understand that someone DID love you and you wouldn't be feeling so frightened and alone." "Shit, if we'd gotten along better, if we'd been friends, we probably wouldn't have even been sent to this god-forsaken place together. So, it's all my fault, Tom. All of it," Chakotay confessed and then he silently began to cry. A little later, while Tom was sleeping, Chakotay dragged himself to the edge of the mattress and stacked the food packets into a new, intricate tower. Although he had no idea what Tom thought he was seeing when he looked at the bright foil wrappers, it obviously comforted him in some way. Perhaps a new structure would break through his haze, spark a little interest in him, remind him to keep breathing. But Tom never woke to see Chakotay's offering. The last fit had ruptured too many blood vessels. He lapsed into a coma and his body began to silently shut down, perhaps relieved to at last be free of pain. Chakotay felt Tom's life slowly ebbing away, as the heart beat slowed against his own chest, and Tom's breathing began to hitch and grow ragged, until with a final rattle of breath, Tom's heart finally stopped. As he realised that the Shuttle was going to become Tom's tomb, Chakotay simply reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, retrieved the remaining painkillers and injected them one after another into his own thigh. ~~ "Why the hell didn't we get here sooner?" Kathryn Janeway demanded furiously. "The doctor said it was eight minutes, just EIGHT minutes. We didn't have to stay with the Betlanni for so long. We had the supplies we needed. Why didn't I come back for them earlier?" Tuvok merely raised his brow at the Captain's self-recrimination. "There was no logical reason to suppose that the Shuttle had crashed, Captain. You responded as soon as we received the automatic emergency signal from the shuttle. Consequently, we arrived three days earlier than scheduled. Had we returned at the pre-arranged time, then both the Commander and Lieutenant Paris would have died," he reminded her. "The Doctor assured me that Chakotay would make a full recovery," Kathryn admitted. "He's already walking, but I think it will take a long time for him to get over what happened to Tom." "Commander Chakotay did an admirable job, under the circumstances. The Doctor says that Tom's injuries should have proved fatal within three days. The Commander should be commended for managing to keep him alive for as long as he did," Tuvok stated. "I need you to talk to him Tuvok. The Doctor says that the overdose was probably accidental, given Chakotay's physical debilitation and state of mind, but I don't want to take any chances," Kathryn said. "It is `possible' that the Commander did attempt suicide," Tuvok confirmed reluctantly. "However, the Commander was in considerable physical pain, believed that Voyager was still several days away and that he would be incarcerated for several days with Lieutenant Paris's corpse. It is not surprising, therefore, that he made a mistake when administering his own medicine." Kathryn smiled gratefully. "For a Vulcan, you have a remarkable habit of using `logic' to justify illogical behaviour, Tuvok. But, I thank you, for it. The official logs will mirror your opinion that Chakotay simply made a mistake. However, I still would appreciate you taking the time to talk to Chakotay, as a friend." "I DO consider the Commander to be my friend, Captain, and I will do as you ask. I believe it will be unnecessary though. The person whom Chakotay needs to confide in is Lieutenant Paris." "Well, the Doctor said he would be up to having visitors today, although it will be a couple of weeks before he is fit for duty again. Knowing Tom, he'll decide to spend his recuperation in the Resort." Kathryn chuckled affectionately. "Since the desire to procreate is a natural reaction to the threat of death, Captain, it is more logical to assume that the Lieutenant will spend his recuperation in bed," Tuvok said dryly. Kathryn's mouth gaped open and then she gave a bark of laughter. "The next time someone accuses Vulcans of having no sense of humor, I shall quote you, Tuvok," she chuckled. Tuvok merely raised his eyebrow in response. "Thank you, old friend," Kathryn murmured. "Talking to you has helped. Now I can walk back out on the Bridge, at least, without constantly wondering how it felt for Chakotay to hold Tom in his arms and watch him die." "While I do not deny that it was a traumatic experience for the Commander, since they were transported to the sickbay only eight minutes later, and the sub-zero temperature of the shuttle prevented the Lieutenant's brain from being further damaged during that time, I believe the human saying is "all's well that ends well."" "But will it?" Kathryn asked, and was rather pleased to see Tuvok's look of bewilderment. It was good to know that Tuvok's wisdom was not omniscient. Her attempt to make Chakotay and Tom face their obvious attraction to each other, rather than continue to spat like a couple of angry alley cats, had tragically backfired, admittedly. Yet, who knew what might still happen? ~~~ Chakotay approached the bio-bed nervously. The Doctor had taken great pains to advise him that not only was it highly unlikely that Tom would have more than vague memories of what had happened down on the planet, but that Tom would probably not have heard, let alone understood, anything that Chakotay had said while he was comatose. It didn't stop Chakotay from flushing with embarrassment though, when Tom's eyes flickered open. "How are you feeling?" he asked awkwardly. "Not bad for a dead guy," Tom replied flippantly, only to be stunned by the look of grief that flashed over Chakotay's face before he managed to control his features back into a mask of calmness. "I'm sorry, Comm-, Chakotay. I know it must have been pretty bad down there, but I can't remember that much of it. Just bits and pieces. It just feels weird that I actually died, you know?" Tom said in a softer voice. "The Doc says you saved my life, that I should have died days earlier." "You saved your own life, Tom. If you hadn't looked after me those first few days, giving me a chance to heal a little, I wouldn't have been able to look after you when you got really ill," Chakotay replied. "Besides, it was you who told me that the Diazepam would help." "Really?" Tom grinned. "It's good to know that all the shifts I have had to pull in Sickbay, were worthwhile after all. And all the time, I thought you only assigned me here because you know how much I hate it." Chakotay flinched. What the hell was he doing here? This was Tom Paris, remember? The cocky, smart-ass who hated him. This wasn't the man who had curled up in his arms for comfort. This wasn't the man who had scuttled around the shuttle, with a beaming smile, doing his best to help Chakotay even as the pressure in his brain was slowly dragging the life out of him. That Tom had died, had died in his arms, down on that lonely planet. He had come here to face Tom, to finally say face to face what he had only been able to whisper as Tom had died in his arms. Yet, the mocking glare of those blue eyes drained his courage, turned his intended words of love into dry ashes in his mouth. "I'm glad you're feeling better," was all he managed to choke before he turned around and hurried towards the door, both hating himself for his cowardice and grateful that he hadn't just blurted out his confession of love. Tears stung his eyes as he cursed himself for a fool. "Tay?" The plaintive word stopped him in his tracks. For a moment he hesitated, unwilling to turn around because he suddenly couldn't control the expression of pain that ravaged his features. If he turned around, if Tom saw him like this, then his pretence would be over. He would never be able to face the pilot again without knowing that the other man knew him for the middle-aged fool that he was. He took another resolute step towards the door. "TAY!" The panic in Tom's voice was too much. He couldn't refuse it, couldn't escape the siren call of Tom's voice, whatever the price his pride would have to pay. His whole body stiff, he slowly turned, allowing Tom to see his tear- stained face, only to see that Tom's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears too. "What do you want, Tom?" he asked, his voice gruff with emotion. "You were just planning to leave, huh? Just like that? Without saying anything else?" Tom demanded. "What did you want me to say?" Chakotay challenged warily. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I was just kind of hoping that you might want to find out what would happen if you DID step off that edge," Tom replied. Chakotay flushed, his heart beginning to beat a rapid tattoo in his chest. "You remember?" he gasped. "Enough," Tom admitted with a shrug. "What WOULD happen if I stepped off, Tom?" Chakotay asked, feeling a ridiculous urge to close his eyes, in case Tom's face twisted into that familiar mocking smirk. But instead, Tom's face blazed into a huge, sunny smile. "I'd catch you," Tom promised. The End