The Game By Morticia Part 14/16 "Is this an official reprimand?" Chakotay asked coldly. Kathryn rubbed her eyes tiredly. If she looked at Chakotay's granite face for one more second she had a feeling that she would slap him, if only to see shock on his face rather than the all too familiar camouflage of glacial indifference. She took a deep breath and then a steadying sip of her coffee, and she almost regretted that she had ever brought the subject up. "Chakotay, we're friends. I *thought* we were friends, at least. And while this most certainly is *not* an official reprimand, it probably should be. I have received numerous complaints about your attitude. "The comments range from aloof and reserved to downright cold-blooded and indifferent. Everyone is concerned about you, Chakotay. They care. *I* care, and I can't bear to see you doing this to yourself. You never smile any more. You are so unapproachable that the lower ranks are terrified to share the bridge with you. You're the First Officer, Chakotay. The crew have to feel comfortable around you." Chakotay stiffened, but if anything his expression only grew more remote, his eyes flat and dispassionate, his once generous lips frigid and harsh. "If you believe I have been derelict in the performance of my duties," he grated. "Not at all," she interrupted placatingly. "You are, and always have been, a perfect First Officer, Chakotay. I am not suggesting that you have done any less than your best professionally. You haven't missed a single shift and your command decisions have been impeccable. All I'm saying is that I already have a Vulcan senior officer, I don't need *another* one. Besides, as I have always maintained, out here we are alone. Voyager is not just a ship, it is a family and you were always its heart, Chakotay. The general morale is lower at the moment than it has ever been." "Then perhaps you should be discussing this with your Morale Officer, Captain. I was not aware that emotional welfare was my responsibility," Chakotay replied cuttingly. "The very fact that you just said that to me proves my point, Chakotay. You always cared. Your concern for each and every member of the crew was the one constant that everyone could rely on. You have, however, been cold and distant with everyone for months. Since you and Tom broke up, to be honest." Chakotay flinched minutely at the mention of the pilot's name, his composed guise wavering, and Kathryn felt guilty. Not so much that she was willing to drop the subject however. Enough was enough, she had decided. "My `relationship' with Tom Paris was a mistake," Chakotay snapped. "One I have considered at leisure and have concluded as being an incident I would rather not dwell on any longer. I would prefer it, Captain, if you would refrain from mentioning it again." "I agree that the relationship was a mistake, Chakotay. I just wish you could both move on and put it behind you," she replied. "I HAVE put it behind me," Chakotay growled. "Which no doubt is why you haven't left your quarters on an evening for over four months?" Kathryn challenged. "I prefer my own company," Chakotay replied quellingly. "I don't recall any Starfleet Regulation that requires me to spend my off-duty hours in pointless socialising. As a Senior Officer I am within my rights not to socialise with lower ranks." "Since that excludes everyone on Voyager except myself, I think you are taking the point too far," Kathryn retaliated. Chakotay just shrugged, his eyes as flat and cold as opaque glass. "Crewman Johnson came to see me yesterday," Kathryn said, watching Chakotay's face for a reaction. He merely raised an eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of Tuvok. "He said he came to you for counselling about whether he should continue to pursue a relationship with Crewman Harris, and you advised him it would be a better use of his time to learn a musical instrument." "So?" Chakotay asked dispassionately. "So he wanted an advance on his rations towards a cello," Kathryn laughed. Chakotay just shrugged again, unmoved. Kathryn's eyes narrowed. She had tried to keep the conversation light- hearted, but evidently it would take more than a bad joke to break through Chakotay's shell of indifference. "B'Elanna came to see me yesterday too. She was concerned about Tom," she said. At last she saw a flash of emotion deep within Chakotay's eyes. Granted it looked more like hate than concern, but still, it was an emotion. "To be honest, I'm rather concerned about him myself," Kathryn continued. "He's a shadow of his former self. He never socialises anymore. He never jokes or laughs. He's become almost as ghost-like as you have." "Well, as we both know, Paris doesn't respond well to being exclusive," Chakotay laughed coldly. "He doesn't respond well to being with Harry," Kathryn snapped. "It's as though the life has been sucked out of him since Harry moved in with him." "So?" Chakotay snapped. "What's this got to do with me? He made his choice. He chose Harry. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it." "Don't you ever wonder *why* he's staying with Harry when he obviously is unhappy?" Kathryn demanded. Although nobody had been surprised at first that Tom had decided to finally stop fighting Harry's undisguised adoration of him, as the weeks and months had progressed Tom's whole persona had changed. The pilot's demeanour virtually screamed misery and everyone was commenting on it, although, oddly enough, Harry still seemed ecstatic. "No, I don't," Chakotay hissed. "I prefer not to think about him at all. Paris and Kim deserve each other, believe me. Harry's got the `record' now, hasn't he? So he must be doing `something' right. As for Paris, he's obviously just run out of new people to screw." "You used to call him `Tom'," Kathryn said mildly. "The person I called `Tom' never existed except in my own imagination," Chakotay replied tonelessly. "I don't understand," Kathryn said helplessly, only to gasp in pity as Chakotay finally allowed his veil of indifference to slide enough for her to finally see the tortured man it concealed. "He's dead, Kathryn. Even if he never really existed except in my heart, that's how it feels. It is as though I loved someone and they died and I can't escape the grief and the pain of knowing that they have gone forever." "But he's not dead, Chakotay," Kathryn protested. "Oh yes he is," Chakotay replied firmly. "Lieutenant Paris may be alive and well, but my Tom is dead." ~~~ "What do you think you look like in that?" Harry demanded furiously. Tom looked helplessly down at his loose jeans and baggy t-shirt. "You told me casual," he said, chewing nervously on his lower lip. "You don't look casual, Tom, you look a fucking mess. I suggest we go out together, play some pool, and you can't even be bothered to wear clothes that fucking fit you," Harry growled. "I'm not going out with you like that. What the hell would people think of me, going out with a slob like you?" Tom flushed, his eyes flashing with angry confusion. "Last night you said we couldn't go out because my jeans were too tight," he reminded Harry. "You said I looked like a slut. Now, they are too loose? I can't please you, can I? There's always *something* wrong with my clothes." "Oh, that's right, blame me because you only have two dress modes, slut and slob," Harry purred nastily. "I'll change again," Tom offered desperately. If he had to spend another evening in his cabin alone with Harry he was going to start crawling the walls. "Don't bother, we're staying in," Harry snapped. "We *always* stay in," Tom complained petulantly. "Well, whose fault is that, Tom?" Harry replied smugly. "I said I'd get changed, Harry. *You* pick my damned clothes this time." "You're suddenly very keen to go out," Harry said suspiciously. "Hell, Harry, it's been months since we did anything together. I just want to go out for a change. I sit at the helm all day, then I sit here all night, it's driving me crazy Harry. I need some exercise, dammit." Harry tipped his head at the bedroom door. "I think you get lots of exercise, Tom, but if you want we can always fuck *before* dinner as well, for a change," he suggested, licking his lips. Tom shuddered, his skin crawling as usual at the thought of Harry touching him, using him. When Harry fucked him it wasn't rape, Tom knew. Harry never hurt him, never *physically* forced him, yet somehow it would be easier if he did. If Harry had ever just used his body, Tom would have been able to somehow find a way out of this nightmare. But Harry didn't. Harry didn't just fuck him. Harry worshipped him. Every touch of Harry's fingers on his skin was applied with an adoration that was impossible to refute and yet was terrifying. Harry was obsessed by him to the point of madness. Harry needed to own him, control him, dominate him. Sometimes, he wondered whether Harry was truly sane at all. "Why don't we go out first?" Tom wheedled. "It would be fun, Haz. Like the old days, huh?" "It's him, isn't it? He's going to be there tonight. That's why you want to go out?" Harry demanded, his eyes flashing with jealousy. "Don't be stupid, of course he won't be there. He's never there. He never leaves his quarters, so there's no reason for you to keep me in all the time," Tom soothed. "Who told you he always stays in his quarters?" Harry demanded. "What?" "Who the fuck have you been discussing him with, Tom?" "No one, Harry. Honest. It's just common knowledge, isn't it?" "So, you talk to other people about Chakotay?" "No," Tom denied tiredly. "Do they pass messages between you?" "WHAT?" "Thought you'd deny it," Harry spat. "SLUT!" "Fuck this crap, I'm going out," Tom growled, starting to push past the furious Ensign. "So you *are* meeting him," Harry accused. "You're fucking crazy, Harry. I am NOT MEETING HIM! Now get the fuck out of my way." "Take one foot out of that door, and I'll comm the Captain," Harry hissed. "I'll tell her what you're doing." "What exactly *am* I doing, Harry?" Tom demanded. "Dropping your lover in one shit-load of trouble," Harry hissed. "HE'S NOT MY LOVER," Tom yelled. "Well he won't be when he's in the brig for assaulting you," Harry agreed. Tom froze in the doorway. "That's old news, Harry," he said quietly. "Not to the Captain it isn't. I saved the tricorder logs, remember?" Harry reminded him yet again. "Oddly enough, she came to see me today, wanted to talk to me about you. She wanted to know why you're being so unsociable these days. "I told her that Chakotay had really hurt you. Of course, I didn't tell her the details because you asked me not to and I trusted you to stay away from him. If you go out, though, I think for your own sake I'm going to have to tell her the rest of the story." "You bastard," Tom hissed in defeat. Harry shrugged. With someone like Tom, you sometimes had to be cruel to be kind. He was rather pissed off with Tom to be truthful. After almost five months of experiencing true love, Tom should have learnt to appreciate him. Instead they wasted a good ten minutes every evening having variations of this same argument. Perhaps it was just one of Tom's games, testing him like this to be sure that Harry was still completely under his spell. Yeah, that was it. Tom just needed to know that Harry would never give him up. "So, since we're staying in, what do you want for dinner, honey?" he asked with a triumphant smile. ~~~ "I don't like it," Kathryn announced to the silent room. Judging by the expressions on the faces of most of the Senior Staff, they didn't like the idea of someone going alone to the surface either. "We can't turn our back on this opportunity, Captain," B'Elanna insisted. "We need the dilithium. I'll go." "You can't," Chakotay stated bluntly. "Our observation of the natives clearly indicates that females are considered inferior and can't trade for goods." "Primitive savages," B'Elanna hissed. "Which is why the Prime Directive applies here, Lieutenant Torres," Tuvok added. "It appears from our observations that a single "male" trader would not cause undue suspicion or fear. These people appear to have a rigid system of caste and tribe. The only interaction between the scattered settlements happens when lone merchants cross the deserts that separate the villages. From what we have seen the merchants never travel in pairs and the initial hostility that they encounter when they approach the settlements indicates a high level of paranoia." "I still don't see why Tom has to go," Harry griped, just this side of insubordination. "Physically he and Seven are the closest to the norm for the natives. Tom is the only suitable male candidate. He will require only minor surgical adaptation to blend in," the Doctor replied. "Nobody *has* to go," Kathryn interrupted. "This is not an order, Tom. I am uncomfortable with the idea that you will be alone down there and will fully understand if you would rather not volunteer." Tom shifted uncomfortably on his seat, trying to ignore the way Chakotay was glowering at him. There was no way in hell he was refusing in front of him. Chakotay already thought he was lying scum, he didn't want to add `coward' to Chakotay's list of adjectives. "Of course I volunteer, Captain," Tom said nonchalantly, even as his stomach churned a little. He'd seen the vids of the planet below and it was hardly his nomination for holiday destination of the year. On the other hand, it would be a chance to escape Harry's cloying affection for a few days, which had to be a good thing. "Thank you, Tom," Kathryn said sincerely. She had never before questioned whether Tom would put himself on the line for the good of the ship but he had been so subdued recently that his reactions had been as unpredictable as Chakotay's of late. "I will keep a transporter lock on you at all times," Tuvok stated. "However, it would be preferable if you avoided any situation which would require its use. The natives would undoubtedly question your disappearance in front of their eyes." Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of the Prime Directive, Tuvok. My cover story is sound. I'll be in and out of there in no time," he assured the Vulcan. "I'm sure your acting abilities will be to their usual impeccable standards, Lieutenant," Chakotay drawled. Tom flinched but to his relief no one else seemed to notice the barb in Chakotay's words. ~~~ "He's doing it deliberately. It was his idea that you went," Harry hissed when they returned to Tom's quarters. "It wasn't his idea," Tom argued. "I'm the logical choice. Anyway, it's no big deal." "No big deal?" Harry demanded furiously. "You're going to be alone on a hostile planet, with natives so paranoid that they only allow single visitors, and then only after giving them a full body search. It's a damned suicide mission. It's Chakotay's doing, I swear. He's trying to get you killed." "For god's sake, Harry. Yesterday you said I was having an affair with him behind your back. Now you think he's trying to kill me. I wish you'd at least be consistent in your fantasies," Tom complained. Harry's face fell. "I'm only concerned about you because I love you," he moaned. "You're so damned ungrateful, Tom. Here I am, the only person who gives a shit about you and you act as if it's a crime to care about you. I didn't see your precious Chakotay trying to talk the Captain out of sending you down into a death trap." "It's not a death trap, Harry. It's a mission," Tom snapped, but Harry could see the first traces of uncertainty in Tom's eyes. Harry rammed the point home. "It was so mean of him to say that you were ideal for the mission because you're such a natural liar," he said sympathetically. "He did *not* call me a liar," Tom protested. "Actor, Liar, whatever," Harry shrugged. "It was obvious what he meant." "Was it?" Tom asked, his eyes suddenly sparkling with unshed tears. "Of course it was," Harry commiserated. "Everyone noticed. Tell you what. Why don't you go tell the Captain you've changed your mind? Like she said, it's a voluntary thing." "I am not changing my mind," Tom hissed. Harry just smiled enigmatically. ~~~ Tom took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and stepped forward into the Captain's ready room. He was so busy rehearsing what he was going to say that it took him a moment to realise that it was Chakotay sitting in the Captain's usual chair. "Lieutenant?" Chakotay spat. "I, um, I was looking for the Captain," Tom muttered, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the carpet under his feet. "She's not here," Chakotay clarified unnecessarily. "What do you want, Paris?" "I, um," Tom stuttered. A cold smirk played on Chakotay's lips. "Oh, don't tell me. You've decided you *don't* want to do it after all," Chakotay mocked. "What happened, Paris? You discovered there wasn't any bonus pay on offer?" he mocked. Anger flared through Tom. He'd just spent two hours arguing with Harry over the away mission. He had finally given in to Harry's threats, only to find himself derided by the man he had sold his soul to protect. Fuck it. Guilt was guilt, but he had taken reparation too far already. He was sick and tired of trying to protect a man who evidently would never see him as anything but scum. Maybe he *was* scum, but if so then why the hell was he even trying to be anything else? He would go to the surface, he decided. It was the least he could do for the rest of the crew, and if Harry finally made good on his threats, then so be it. He couldn't live like this any longer. He stiffened his shoulders proudly and looked Chakotay straight in the face for the first time since the day Chakotay had broken his wrist. "I came to discuss a personal matter. That is all, Commander. It can wait until I return from the planet," he said proudly, then turned on his heel and left the room without waiting to be dismissed. Chakotay narrowed his eyes as he watched the door close. He wasn't fooled. Paris *had* come to decline the mission, he was sure. Fortunately for the rest of the crew, he had obviously shamed Paris to his senses. It was surprising, but satisfying, that Paris still cared at least *that* much about his own opinion, he decided. ~~~ Tom didn't risk returning to his quarters. He hoped that if Harry didn't find out he had gone until it was too late, then he wouldn't bother going through with his threat. After all, why would he waste his only lever over Tom? Harry wasn't his friend. Tom understood that now. He'd understood that since the first night that Harry had blackmailed him into having sex with him. Harry *did* love him. But it wasn't any cause for celebration. Harry's version of love was a selfish, possessive obsession. Harry's love was an albatross around Tom's neck, choking him, weighing him down, draining him of strength and eating away at Tom's soul. If he had one, of course. Chakotay hadn't seemed to think so and Tom was beginning to believe he was right. Harry's love, as injurious and oppressive as it was, was probably the best that he deserved. Hell, with any luck Harry would turn out to be right about this being a suicide mission, he decided as he left Sickbay with his new facial ridges and headed for the transporter room. Maybe this *was* a plot by Chakotay to finally claim his vengeance. Perhaps he would die on the planet below. To tell the truth, the thought was oddly appealing to him. TBC